tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59548392114463771182024-03-19T00:47:27.638-03:00Stepping Out"I'm hittin' the road. Maybe I'll drop you a line some day from wherever I wind up in this crazy old world." ~ Homer Simpson Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.comBlogger189125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-7655916397835956342013-12-30T23:00:00.000-03:002014-08-22T15:50:55.557-04:00Thirty Second Finale RecapAnd then I went back to Korea, then went to Japan to visit some friends, then back to Korea, then flew home to the US on December 22. Doh! Why does my blog always fizzle out at the end of a trip?Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-9606565734319946732013-12-13T18:19:00.000-03:002014-08-18T10:05:42.838-04:00Ubud: My New All-Time Favorite Place<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkfATurNZTLzFEJMK-S_6lBoUfrvgRxlLCu-sBw4Wo7D6RAyzu3dayLnRlNp0nfb1V5IYmPi1KrOE9gRziA39f6YEePNrZ8KkyhMl05dclOx_t4jV0KkoBvMzpIKZArm6oay0PbmymIWr/s1600/P1090089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkfATurNZTLzFEJMK-S_6lBoUfrvgRxlLCu-sBw4Wo7D6RAyzu3dayLnRlNp0nfb1V5IYmPi1KrOE9gRziA39f6YEePNrZ8KkyhMl05dclOx_t4jV0KkoBvMzpIKZArm6oay0PbmymIWr/s320/P1090089.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The door to my hotel. Note the lack of key card</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Last night I fell asleep to the sound of bullfrogs and this morning I woke
up to the sound of roosters crowing. Does it get more relaxing than that? <br />
<br />
The tentative plans I had for yesterday were all soundly quashed by the
unrelenting rain (I guess it IS monsoon season, after all) aided by the fact
that I had been unable to sleep for some reason (as in, just one sketchy hour
all night). So while some rain wouldn’t normally stop me my extreme exhaustion
didn’t help much in the motivation department to keep on pressing on. Also, as
I had had a minor AC issue in my room, which I insisted was no big deal at all,
the hotel insisted on upgrading me to one of the suites so, just when I thought
this place couldn’t get any better, I was now in an even more amazing room! So
I decided to just give in to the tiredness and have a bit of a “chill day”, to
just soak in the place I was, the calming and relaxing vibe of the place…. and
to, of course, get an extra-long massage! <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMXzJvysQvF-LpsCknefAkirQahgtW1EwzSskyLZzjaL86_m4YAxxcQLz_7u9lPDJqfUQgdoU1wCZRbHMcdG2WiWb2JFC5E9pMo7oIaQDY1YBs8MerulIHJDd3FtyovJLNd1KTtaRe2cmX/s1600/P1090132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMXzJvysQvF-LpsCknefAkirQahgtW1EwzSskyLZzjaL86_m4YAxxcQLz_7u9lPDJqfUQgdoU1wCZRbHMcdG2WiWb2JFC5E9pMo7oIaQDY1YBs8MerulIHJDd3FtyovJLNd1KTtaRe2cmX/s320/P1090132.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The view of the rice paddies off of my veranda</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I did, however, pry myself away in the evening long enough to attend a
traditional Kecak dance (the fire dance). While the Legong dance last night was
beautiful and artistic, this one was a completely different style. It did have
some of the same dance elements, but the main feature is an enormous group of
traditionally dressed men who sit in a circle and sing/chant throughout the
whole show. From minute one, I was mesmerized by it. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hyReJOGj9wWG1TW1R58K2Cw7mCyI0cxiPmbYpPTR1o0UevCPWmaJq5dFM7gxgH2dqyYGtjXx1CiXZwH4QVLZbC-WwZ1Lfrl5mylLo1lA5vwUmuprfShB-YTS3yxF-HG7VHuSljgOh31y/s1600/P1090133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hyReJOGj9wWG1TW1R58K2Cw7mCyI0cxiPmbYpPTR1o0UevCPWmaJq5dFM7gxgH2dqyYGtjXx1CiXZwH4QVLZbC-WwZ1Lfrl5mylLo1lA5vwUmuprfShB-YTS3yxF-HG7VHuSljgOh31y/s320/P1090133.JPG" height="240" unselectable="on" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Yeah, I could wake up to this view every day</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Today was my last day here, sadly, and only a partial one at that as I had
to leave the hotel by 4pm so I knew I had better get to it. After my last
amazing breakfast in the open-air restaurant by the stream, I hopped on a bike
and took off to check out the surrounding area. Rice paddies upon rice paddies.
And small little village streets lined with local little vendors and
restaurants and temples and traditional homes. Beyond charming. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxhzw1BHbu-_-g9M_BWi_jL1WbRTkdP24rmmPgQ1jGdT-VwomFoTt5_dBs5PQEGg76FmC36XopjHXXD4VnMg7u_j8WwmwkHMOgK7EyEhEEkQhklbCv6IExug288QEv_QAvBs0Z45OsT6W/s1600/P1090076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxhzw1BHbu-_-g9M_BWi_jL1WbRTkdP24rmmPgQ1jGdT-VwomFoTt5_dBs5PQEGg76FmC36XopjHXXD4VnMg7u_j8WwmwkHMOgK7EyEhEEkQhklbCv6IExug288QEv_QAvBs0Z45OsT6W/s320/P1090076.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>You know you're in Asia when the mirrors only</em><br />
<em>come up this high.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I came back in time to shower and check out, then headed out once more to….
The Monkey Forest! Yep, if there’s a monkey-themed amusement around, you can
pretty much bet I’m going to find it! More temples, more monkeys (a couple even
jumped on me!), more enchantment. I don’t know what it is about those little
guys that completely fascinates me. Just watching how they care for each other,
groom each other, interact, move around and, well, pretty much everything, just
never gets old for me to watch. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74Kg-Jw1_6gyEjh9H5L-1vZ7AyPwulQ9nr5hbX4onx62LOm6pknQg85d9T0PeBoClxPzMYOyu_Kj7Vs_BUub5AQneJDzV6FwuQtqc112rJFP4yR5layp2zW0HOapHB1XYD-tpzMCZVOPQ/s1600/P1090137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74Kg-Jw1_6gyEjh9H5L-1vZ7AyPwulQ9nr5hbX4onx62LOm6pknQg85d9T0PeBoClxPzMYOyu_Kj7Vs_BUub5AQneJDzV6FwuQtqc112rJFP4yR5layp2zW0HOapHB1XYD-tpzMCZVOPQ/s320/P1090137.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>What does get old, however, is the sweating and the mosquito bites. The bath
I took before checking out was rendered completely useless within about 5
minutes of walking around when I was COVERED yet again in sweat. And to say the
mosquito bites have increased exponentially would be the grossest
understatement of the year. Everywhere I go now, people are constantly staring
right at them (I think maybe everyone is afraid I have the measles or
something). I know I should cover them up but it’s just so freaking hot that
the idea of putting on something with sleeves makes<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>me ill. The sweet ladies
at the hotel saw me scratching furiously one morning over breakfast and returned promptly to give me some ointment to put on them but, while it takes some of
the itch away, it doesn’t seem to do much else. An Australian lady saw me at
the monkey forest today and came up to me and insisted on giving me some pills
that she swears will work. She warned me, however, that they’ll knock me out
hard so I’d better be careful when I take them. So it looks like on tonight’s
flight I won’t need a Xanax after all. And hopefully they’ll actually help
somewhat with the bites as well as, gotta say, the looking like a freak thing
is getting pretty old.<o:p></o:p><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCy0huP0kw-G5G7uG4m8WCQr7llA1tzT55aCohldoNgz14mpAqnOn7U-5EmpExt4QSdJRuZjwqrwA8Y4IhzPiFchqaQ-r3e0ATM7uEIqoffWJ27au0puoVefwX7z0ga-6HyP0huY1Nk8rU/s1600/P1090138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCy0huP0kw-G5G7uG4m8WCQr7llA1tzT55aCohldoNgz14mpAqnOn7U-5EmpExt4QSdJRuZjwqrwA8Y4IhzPiFchqaQ-r3e0ATM7uEIqoffWJ27au0puoVefwX7z0ga-6HyP0huY1Nk8rU/s320/P1090138.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
Tonight I take an overnight flight back to Seoul and I am genuinely sorry to
leave here. I don’t often go back to the same place twice as I’m all about
going new places and seeing different things whenever possible. But this is a
place that I WILL be back to someday and for a much longer period of time the
next time around. Fo shizz. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<br />Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-6074935236059121922013-12-11T23:25:00.000-03:002013-12-21T04:17:37.586-03:00Correcting My Mistake<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3qEKQSFdOsIIGbTdkhrH6zL5ghi92xsUKKFRdwsjS2xxilDO-3eI6ueKyP0vfy4dNAp1gFEQFKhbxhISs4iXzAi-A4ovsa_9vMyCEhDFv_GSejvI3cqVG-7G8x8IkSmJ6A-Os4CtkOS4/s1600/P1090038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3qEKQSFdOsIIGbTdkhrH6zL5ghi92xsUKKFRdwsjS2xxilDO-3eI6ueKyP0vfy4dNAp1gFEQFKhbxhISs4iXzAi-A4ovsa_9vMyCEhDFv_GSejvI3cqVG-7G8x8IkSmJ6A-Os4CtkOS4/s320/P1090038.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>My sweet, very traditional Balinese hotel room in Ubud</em></td></tr>
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So yesterday I made a decision and the moment I made it, I felt instantly
better and more relaxed. I knew that if I stayed where I was, I would spend my
brief time in Bali being absolutely miserable here. Fortunately, my well-traveled
cousin has been here himself and wisely counseled me to check out a place
called Ubud, widely considered the "cultural capital" of Bali. At first I thought maybe I could just do a day trip from where I was but once I started reading about it, I understood that it was a place worth committing to and spending some time in. They were oh-so-right. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT78t70v9O-SQqxulKYMpYLQ2GDPmlv3FO_kkvwFlAVsf9WqRu1qF9u1E7UzAcppGov0_yE84M4QttrF1sLBgPaCuSyToGyYMXFCRnVHPTHbQq9ElSSMHGQ2MrIKIH-FjogT9aZKwYMdn3/s1600/P1090045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT78t70v9O-SQqxulKYMpYLQ2GDPmlv3FO_kkvwFlAVsf9WqRu1qF9u1E7UzAcppGov0_yE84M4QttrF1sLBgPaCuSyToGyYMXFCRnVHPTHbQq9ElSSMHGQ2MrIKIH-FjogT9aZKwYMdn3/s320/P1090045.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwHb_hKGFPx40klWv5b9nC_0iwjNOkTVafxJbiJnHMmORCqEXwzArq7Xu_82ZcrvrzIOKM8tLgC3GnMZ3DS41bGw1pdcOhXwwCBAcBT8W9WKFViYeQzJkc__17Bz27nxJHKWamKyvWmaR3/s1600/P1090041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwHb_hKGFPx40klWv5b9nC_0iwjNOkTVafxJbiJnHMmORCqEXwzArq7Xu_82ZcrvrzIOKM8tLgC3GnMZ3DS41bGw1pdcOhXwwCBAcBT8W9WKFViYeQzJkc__17Bz27nxJHKWamKyvWmaR3/s320/P1090041.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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I hightailed it out of my hotel down south (at a great expense of checking out early, but I didn’t even care. At some point, money becomes irrelevant) and hired a car to take me the 90 minutes inland to Ubud. Almost as soon as we pulled out of the chaos that was the tourist trap I’d been in, I felt myself begin to relax. By the time we got near Ubud, I was back to my old, normal self and could just TELL that I was going to love it here. It was green and lush and jungle-esque and calm and peaceful and…. real. Instead of being catered to tourists, this place was true Indonesia, people living their lives and going about their business and living in charming, traditional Indonesian houses. Aaaaaaah. <o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTHLbS9cK4SCKcZAIYyZR0CwLi5UESQOFfV-9tpFA4OFAtt_XzK7gA4Nsz86aGcaEnPaOCKrkPK0MU_DBl1q3WtNP0TIR29ySzmWE_AswlXe2qrCsp0SHNjGdpFBroTzkNeW2qWu5Mmua/s1600/P1090052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTHLbS9cK4SCKcZAIYyZR0CwLi5UESQOFfV-9tpFA4OFAtt_XzK7gA4Nsz86aGcaEnPaOCKrkPK0MU_DBl1q3WtNP0TIR29ySzmWE_AswlXe2qrCsp0SHNjGdpFBroTzkNeW2qWu5Mmua/s320/P1090052.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Ubud Palace</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFoIauhnR5M1lXrhD0-w4Mg7o-YHdHM1AvbhgUtC7HmxbM4qgCSoiv7GJhUaB13i_wxRZUFZvlgg-XX-oDNPXC47ApeuWoXEZdXVMF_lXaa_r5KGBT4bdyMpNB96QbpQvu7SaWXlySytAN/s1600/P1090051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFoIauhnR5M1lXrhD0-w4Mg7o-YHdHM1AvbhgUtC7HmxbM4qgCSoiv7GJhUaB13i_wxRZUFZvlgg-XX-oDNPXC47ApeuWoXEZdXVMF_lXaa_r5KGBT4bdyMpNB96QbpQvu7SaWXlySytAN/s320/P1090051.JPG" width="320" /></a>And it only got better from there: the second I pulled up to my hotel, I was in love. Completely, totally in love. It was small and built into a grove of trees and everything is open-air (although, to be fair, almost everything in Indonesia is) and there is a stream that runs right through the middle of it. The workers could not have been more genuinely nice and welcoming and, as if that wasn’t enough, the room was incredible. Huge and traditional Balinese style with a veranda that overlooked rice paddies being worked by local farmers. There’s a bamboo cathedral ceiling that is, I swear, at least 40 feet high (I know I may exaggerate sometimes, but this time I really, really, literally mean it!) and a gorgeous stone bathtub that could fit four people and where I can lay the whole way out flat and neither my head nor my feet hit the ends. Oh my. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jU5HgT7kAUAZbFC3RCRh-kgZQuEhyphenhyphenSj8ZdyV-qX-lvWSDOPGLvobaVScuY6t_fVH5gj1qcOM_w5lj2AsBfKqVgBWPDnnT6FbCc8fjhr__68mgSWpn4DdC3PdYD52pOssjULVuoWiDhut/s1600/P1090053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jU5HgT7kAUAZbFC3RCRh-kgZQuEhyphenhyphenSj8ZdyV-qX-lvWSDOPGLvobaVScuY6t_fVH5gj1qcOM_w5lj2AsBfKqVgBWPDnnT6FbCc8fjhr__68mgSWpn4DdC3PdYD52pOssjULVuoWiDhut/s320/P1090053.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFkXFS5ocBj0Bzfp_avCwQ4P6rNDdh4F0WLLVVoChz08uOgetSgG-6KZy_y-Wra2EBb1d9fIGOXCUHxBOTKdnojRqGtWHcUiH8thxHwQS6bgoTKaBMicAW-cyjT8cihY_r0LD9bJbHihx/s1600/P1090049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFkXFS5ocBj0Bzfp_avCwQ4P6rNDdh4F0WLLVVoChz08uOgetSgG-6KZy_y-Wra2EBb1d9fIGOXCUHxBOTKdnojRqGtWHcUiH8thxHwQS6bgoTKaBMicAW-cyjT8cihY_r0LD9bJbHihx/s320/P1090049.JPG" width="240" /></a>I was tempted to just stay in and soak it all in but my time here is limited (less than 3 full days) so I wanted to get out and see some things. I headed into town and walked around, checking out the palace (not palace like you’re thinking, but a really small, traditional Balinese palace where descendants of the royal family still live) and making my way over to the big market (lest I forget Christmas is coming, even if I am currently in a tank top and still sweating my buns off). Made it back to the hotel for tea time, enjoyed a fabulous bath to clean/cool off, and then headed back out to see a traditional Legong dance. This was another recommendation from my cuz and I’m so glad I went. While I'm sure much of the symbolism was lost on me, it was such a beautiful thing to watch while sitting in an open-air temple and listening to the sound of the rain outside. I love being in places with such a long history and so much culture (it’s times like these when you realize we have nothing even remotely comparable in the US). <o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HIIz_eoyGWq_s0T4RdfKZiRc76hZyynmupaO8nUqfrpQxgc62DzaJ-E6aQ9TdnFG-l8FaxngF0F3aOJu7PIxqQj2UqUFpEEdZQxfwgQkRjeujK9thaW4lrc9PzPD9m9vKq_FvftWvDN6/s1600/P1090061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-HIIz_eoyGWq_s0T4RdfKZiRc76hZyynmupaO8nUqfrpQxgc62DzaJ-E6aQ9TdnFG-l8FaxngF0F3aOJu7PIxqQj2UqUFpEEdZQxfwgQkRjeujK9thaW4lrc9PzPD9m9vKq_FvftWvDN6/s320/P1090061.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Not only the best coffee I've had in Indonesia, not only the</em><br />
<em>best coffee I've had on my whole trip, but possibly</em><br />
<em>the best coffee I've EVER had. </em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So, I love, love, LOOOVE Ubud. Now my only complaint in life is that I don’t have a LOT more time to spend here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJa9fW12CPxRUZP91oJSVRFoAg6aVL-rTiZdERI8OPZFmoGlknrPhf3D12hA2_T-OBKxXsIXmdEZpac_E0IzfeLl617UfotKDuL4jfZXjxvBtkhlMoc2-ch2aC9i3NOhC-u8s1liyali2A/s1600/P1090063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJa9fW12CPxRUZP91oJSVRFoAg6aVL-rTiZdERI8OPZFmoGlknrPhf3D12hA2_T-OBKxXsIXmdEZpac_E0IzfeLl617UfotKDuL4jfZXjxvBtkhlMoc2-ch2aC9i3NOhC-u8s1liyali2A/s320/P1090063.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Legong dance musicians</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qvEEN0a3lbmq2mDIJ3KSLMOrYjAGTrxXBoYEey3PwLTK3o8oxGtQ7Ww-NcKpYuOIw4P4o92QZOTKZ4g8PdiSmjvmhqQcD6hu8cN7pr5LAj6i5sbDQvWCyWD7AswF2sUoUzp0wSuHMzRQ/s1600/P1090064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qvEEN0a3lbmq2mDIJ3KSLMOrYjAGTrxXBoYEey3PwLTK3o8oxGtQ7Ww-NcKpYuOIw4P4o92QZOTKZ4g8PdiSmjvmhqQcD6hu8cN7pr5LAj6i5sbDQvWCyWD7AswF2sUoUzp0wSuHMzRQ/s320/P1090064.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Legong dance... sadly, the pics didn't come out well</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8GVsgv9MEpakEZBaHvVRSwraClCrp-W9LJR7OQlznHl17Y7F0zR97QBWvZSvvSaGkX-69-ShVe_Z2lR9oerluV466CY9cngxLVJ2Ssfb41GZIhnpzbYbaayvXLrNFPVbISFmlvNaSH1Ul/s1600/P1090067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8GVsgv9MEpakEZBaHvVRSwraClCrp-W9LJR7OQlznHl17Y7F0zR97QBWvZSvvSaGkX-69-ShVe_Z2lR9oerluV466CY9cngxLVJ2Ssfb41GZIhnpzbYbaayvXLrNFPVbISFmlvNaSH1Ul/s320/P1090067.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzU2CxZm0S6qsjlorZ1FNREvgkMq6dBSLNrL0NsrLtcKIro1-YyJ0_wrMhMLYrPCe1B_ETThDTg08QuQXQeebJ8vp9Fo1aMMGhuSo1BgBcrrRQYDP7bet1rXclZ9wonArfU2LZr3sCRcr/s1600/P1090068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzU2CxZm0S6qsjlorZ1FNREvgkMq6dBSLNrL0NsrLtcKIro1-YyJ0_wrMhMLYrPCe1B_ETThDTg08QuQXQeebJ8vp9Fo1aMMGhuSo1BgBcrrRQYDP7bet1rXclZ9wonArfU2LZr3sCRcr/s320/P1090068.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-84070066409547966032013-12-10T23:53:00.000-03:002013-12-21T03:19:57.247-03:00Uh Oh<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3NGM-yFLFrn2_toSSd52oDqSETVSFWFiCCk6tQ_THN5c1V6n59da_XtNrsuZluRrsh_r5WSc1WmyRzjCa1s7lyrpegeWcMk17ZQl0YjFIxCZGg_duLS5nIrAbO9tgM8e7v0FiM994SCB/s1600/P1080928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3NGM-yFLFrn2_toSSd52oDqSETVSFWFiCCk6tQ_THN5c1V6n59da_XtNrsuZluRrsh_r5WSc1WmyRzjCa1s7lyrpegeWcMk17ZQl0YjFIxCZGg_duLS5nIrAbO9tgM8e7v0FiM994SCB/s320/P1080928.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Uluwatu Temple</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Uh, I’ve made a big, big mistake. I had heard that Bali was touristy and I
came prepared for that (or so I thought) but I had no idea it would be THIS
touristy, full of nothing but white people and Western brand stores/restaurants
and hotel after hotel after hotel. My first clue came the moment I exited
customs yesterday when the very first things I saw at the airport were, no lie,
Burger King, Starbucks and Coldstone Creamery. I should have just turned around
right then. But I had a hotel reservation so I forged ahead. Plus, I figured,
this is just the airport and I’m sure the whole place can’t be this bad, right?
Turns out it can. <o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_T93uWjRIJBUPReLymnulGcCM2DiLejtTb-hihMXG3k26-KcQrFr03yJOUTVKQap_Mb8AFHQlK6_zJ4Zye8UPkEX6GYGY41GkKMvywnDd1jv5mhOeGRYfqcceXCy2xMIvVjNARqMTvxx2/s1600/P1080930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_T93uWjRIJBUPReLymnulGcCM2DiLejtTb-hihMXG3k26-KcQrFr03yJOUTVKQap_Mb8AFHQlK6_zJ4Zye8UPkEX6GYGY41GkKMvywnDd1jv5mhOeGRYfqcceXCy2xMIvVjNARqMTvxx2/s320/P1080930.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>At one point he even tried on my glasses!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZF5jchD4MaYGPsieZUim29XS0LpA8GmBspgl7lZs1NhYlw4MxlCcxj6GYCP9w895CnNgGTGaoFyyyGqX6aBgz55kMqYsaKkINhbKt_A-mjKqWIAY6G6eKKwGjkC1ufQVvmpCTHpSu6Hia/s1600/P1080931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZF5jchD4MaYGPsieZUim29XS0LpA8GmBspgl7lZs1NhYlw4MxlCcxj6GYCP9w895CnNgGTGaoFyyyGqX6aBgz55kMqYsaKkINhbKt_A-mjKqWIAY6G6eKKwGjkC1ufQVvmpCTHpSu6Hia/s320/P1080931.JPG" width="240" /></a>I had mistakenly thought that Bali was a beach haven so I specifically chose
a hotel right ON the beach. Not having been here before, I did some quick
research about the best beaches in Bali and one kept coming up over and over. I
booked it, sure that ALL those people couldn’t be wrong. Turns out they could.
Turns out that that beach is the one SATIATED with tourists, in the most
touristy of all the touristy places, full of nothing but westerners. Okay, I
still think after arriving, I’m sure the beach will make up for it all. I put
on my suit and headed out to dive right in. It didn’t make up for anything. In
fact, it only made things worse. There was a narrow strip of beach filled with
lounge chairs all occupied by white people. And instead of the quiet beaches in
Lombok, where the only sound you hear is the crashing of waves, here you can’t
hear the waves for all of the jetskis and motorboats and parasailers. And, as a
final insult, there was repair work happening on the deck by the pool so even
more beach was sacrificed AND there was loud construction hammering and
drilling happening not ten feet from my beach chair. I could have cried. <o:p></o:p><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH37tSEAC20feYdfY4Igrs6bUUULuXSrB7J1_nnOQrNIZiqTdiGW0s1WA_RAbrmaeDUSjRf7IkHrc9KdCgxJZ6kLbvBT2ZuRIPCN0uoS8IKO3eYVGIhlxTvneLpy1fEs4xZQuL5LFb8Ua0/s1600/P1080938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH37tSEAC20feYdfY4Igrs6bUUULuXSrB7J1_nnOQrNIZiqTdiGW0s1WA_RAbrmaeDUSjRf7IkHrc9KdCgxJZ6kLbvBT2ZuRIPCN0uoS8IKO3eYVGIhlxTvneLpy1fEs4xZQuL5LFb8Ua0/s320/P1080938.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
Very rarely, if ever, have I so instantly despised a place and been
immediately, intensely desperate to get out. ASAP. I went back to my hotel room
to check out what was to do in this area, still trying to be optimistic about
the things that may be around to experience. I mean, there has to be SOME
reason this place is so world-renowned, right? I found one thing that
interested me. One. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhvYgjqcCWBQpxj0cwv84mNvvPlOZxDuc9s6wPpbfhi6E5Z0hvrIx4V65hjE-TWMuA_PKneMDVy-cx14QmfZwh3w4cp7kD2XgvPf0k8Fih3JF_wU7Yuvn7OHoYd1-xk_J1VRNjfCKMk35/s1600/P1080952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizhvYgjqcCWBQpxj0cwv84mNvvPlOZxDuc9s6wPpbfhi6E5Z0hvrIx4V65hjE-TWMuA_PKneMDVy-cx14QmfZwh3w4cp7kD2XgvPf0k8Fih3JF_wU7Yuvn7OHoYd1-xk_J1VRNjfCKMk35/s320/P1080952.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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So today I went to the Uluwatu Temple (aka the Monkey Temple). I learned
that while Lombok is predominately Muslim, Bali is largely Hindu and there are
LOTS of temples here. Uluwatu Temple sits on the very top/edge of a sheer cliff
overlooking the sea. Pretty stunning. And it just so happens that the forest
around it is infested with monkeys. Anyone who knows me, knows I’m oddly
obsessed with monkeys so I was all over it. <o:p></o:p><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocsiwUytAeLPF_9AxxH6rIcDsP2WQS0d5UCZ0VWSMqoHVwYZ-hH33_ibXdzAHnafWsfFIO60FbT3_RZtTUUMuatRy7Yu3-QEHu3JKMPxVxY7C1yqs3aw91g94X8pI3JcJxiMl7zUthZq8/s1600/P1080953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocsiwUytAeLPF_9AxxH6rIcDsP2WQS0d5UCZ0VWSMqoHVwYZ-hH33_ibXdzAHnafWsfFIO60FbT3_RZtTUUMuatRy7Yu3-QEHu3JKMPxVxY7C1yqs3aw91g94X8pI3JcJxiMl7zUthZq8/s320/P1080953.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
I would conservatively estimate that 10 different people told me not to wear
sunglasses when I was walking around. The monkeys will steal them, they said.
But do I listen? Of course not. I wasn’t there 3 minutes before I stopped at a
fence and set down my water bottle so I could get something out of my bag… and
suddenly out of the blue, in a literal flash, my sunglasses were swiped right
off of my face and the water bottle was no longer mine. It was all so fast, it
took me a moment to realize what had even happened. And then I saw the little
guy just sitting there, holding my glasses and, amazingly, unscrewing the cap
of my water bottle and drinking it. My instinct was to reach out and try to
take them back but he bared his teeth at me as if to say “These are mine now, white
lady.” Cheeky little bugger!<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIL7U7nsycUTpZzlzekMRMY5tkHZr9EXwGKn9oSGx5pzGyfWZjBRtOo7NQ8QucV-gJkKRUOmUZ-zRudWVtnUiouWhyEEMVrkMtn4XAotuRSc4J_yjFXqV0Ymz8TVRbFVvWfw5lngHw8Wux/s1600/P1080955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIL7U7nsycUTpZzlzekMRMY5tkHZr9EXwGKn9oSGx5pzGyfWZjBRtOo7NQ8QucV-gJkKRUOmUZ-zRudWVtnUiouWhyEEMVrkMtn4XAotuRSc4J_yjFXqV0Ymz8TVRbFVvWfw5lngHw8Wux/s320/P1080955.JPG" width="320" /></a>It was SO hot and SO humid and the sun was SO intense that I bought another
bottle of water. But this time I thought I’d be really smart and hide it in my
pocket, pulling my shirt over it so it was totally out of sight. Yeah, I guess
monkeys are pretty attuned to the sound of water sloshing around a bottle and I
wasn’t 50 feet down the path when a really big one came up to me, lifted up my
shirt and tried to pull the bottle out of my pocket. We played tug of war for a
while but, ultimately, he won (I have a feeling they always win). <o:p></o:p><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQJ63R1zHsYJBN2jM_YnlPF-ZTqmYaN74AzhVhxptw1pGAhyphenhyphenjC459YtSsPgSNLNexoSGF1W9e-CslaKE3yGLaJ8c7aAleMFMO5tlkZzjpL-OKV9SGgvU6XRP0Rn_rf2inUQU90e_tiZ2y/s1600/P1080961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQJ63R1zHsYJBN2jM_YnlPF-ZTqmYaN74AzhVhxptw1pGAhyphenhyphenjC459YtSsPgSNLNexoSGF1W9e-CslaKE3yGLaJ8c7aAleMFMO5tlkZzjpL-OKV9SGgvU6XRP0Rn_rf2inUQU90e_tiZ2y/s320/P1080961.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrF1XeaRUdNtHKpcl0Xps9xpacN4QCh743QZHBgRFsbc_TQvLiuio2EhbBd0Ydj4Ynqq7V8sUPqmP-6ljA-ymA0M4uIgYFChNdHGHmDTmEGs1BbpyjBoTUvrXmoWw-PetLKzNM034kSlf/s1600/P1080975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrF1XeaRUdNtHKpcl0Xps9xpacN4QCh743QZHBgRFsbc_TQvLiuio2EhbBd0Ydj4Ynqq7V8sUPqmP-6ljA-ymA0M4uIgYFChNdHGHmDTmEGs1BbpyjBoTUvrXmoWw-PetLKzNM034kSlf/s320/P1080975.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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I stayed long enough to watch the sunset over the temple, which was lovely.
Not as lovely are the insane number of mosquito bites that I have gotten in the
past two days. Nearly a week in Lombok, not one single bite. Two days here and
my arms and shoulders are covered in them. Oh yes, one more thing to love about
Bali!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIPypyJdEHSFS08u7kcQgbM7Gf4fZ5uZxmcJtzeH4g6IpTlGeTHyZ9mYVQROOPWCj-fuRBtn60ek2q3MQo29K6ppkKScR_Boj-0bMtfmZ7xCZcPlXR942if5cwkCw-mIvJ6xZZ7ZB6SQS/s1600/P1090005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIPypyJdEHSFS08u7kcQgbM7Gf4fZ5uZxmcJtzeH4g6IpTlGeTHyZ9mYVQROOPWCj-fuRBtn60ek2q3MQo29K6ppkKScR_Boj-0bMtfmZ7xCZcPlXR942if5cwkCw-mIvJ6xZZ7ZB6SQS/s320/P1090005.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgEGf9DSnPLrZ2DuCMwx7sP6gauIlyKlKWnQhRjqgmD5zK_6QIIzgnu8phrLMoebWhezshY2tLCBh5zPLWJOydyRiIknJJL6IqrlZMjje4uYmjOR1_bu2n9lGmeGHWZprE3Jy-lFQ062Wr/s1600/P1080994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgEGf9DSnPLrZ2DuCMwx7sP6gauIlyKlKWnQhRjqgmD5zK_6QIIzgnu8phrLMoebWhezshY2tLCBh5zPLWJOydyRiIknJJL6IqrlZMjje4uYmjOR1_bu2n9lGmeGHWZprE3Jy-lFQ062Wr/s320/P1080994.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-717882841939867272013-12-08T23:54:00.000-03:002013-12-21T04:22:53.400-03:00A (nearly) Perfect Day<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uZR1AbefoFeqIsguXUMlszspJCgDNVnmGUUIOBSnyL59IsbDxXz4vNBwj-1QDC-99eSU-PSzI7cKF8GPcdl4cqHePZmZvd5KD3tbFoR5tZ8jB9YXT_Lds_2TVnBrQS4dy_dJjU6rIeb1/s1600/P1080866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uZR1AbefoFeqIsguXUMlszspJCgDNVnmGUUIOBSnyL59IsbDxXz4vNBwj-1QDC-99eSU-PSzI7cKF8GPcdl4cqHePZmZvd5KD3tbFoR5tZ8jB9YXT_Lds_2TVnBrQS4dy_dJjU6rIeb1/s320/P1080866.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The selfie is back! (Kuta Beach)</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As it was my last full day in Lombok, I decided I should finally pry my butt
out of the hut and go check out some other things. In my gut I knew that if I
didn’t, I would seriously regret it later. As it turns out, I regret it now
that I didn’t do it sooner. While sitting on the beach here was exactly what I
wanted to do this week, it turns out that perhaps I should have saved that for
upcoming Bali (which I hear is way touristy and I have a feeling may annoy me)
and done my exploring on this island, which is still natural and pure. But
better late than never, eh?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRuxUWcMLS82Zyswn2thcPKshweWHpEAzGmrOmkn8AKAQp7PcMQQrSrsWzGcyq7i3lmzqHmn7pXlfvRXEw5_QABdmDBJVuMFuF87r1gihC4IBAqNQ5PadPwMo5KzG89tCfx2H1emgT1GFS/s1600/P1080867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRuxUWcMLS82Zyswn2thcPKshweWHpEAzGmrOmkn8AKAQp7PcMQQrSrsWzGcyq7i3lmzqHmn7pXlfvRXEw5_QABdmDBJVuMFuF87r1gihC4IBAqNQ5PadPwMo5KzG89tCfx2H1emgT1GFS/s320/P1080867.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Downtown Kuta</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlG94LNByYAqvE8IU8g18fT_dY_a1AvXb7mh2h2YWAv9d3SLkqCIZvMHCsPUl3ehFNyP7CcHqryDYZp2Pe9xDmXk5aVSfhqevgjufPicERAnjpCL1s99ZK3lGD4mntcgm23_HBLHqXoDYI/s1600/P1080868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlG94LNByYAqvE8IU8g18fT_dY_a1AvXb7mh2h2YWAv9d3SLkqCIZvMHCsPUl3ehFNyP7CcHqryDYZp2Pe9xDmXk5aVSfhqevgjufPicERAnjpCL1s99ZK3lGD4mntcgm23_HBLHqXoDYI/s320/P1080868.JPG" width="320" /></a>Part of the issue was that I had been told that renting motorbikes from the
hotel was super expensive so I hadn’t bothered checking into it sooner. But I
figured I’d at least ask and was shocked to learn that I could take one out for
the whole day for only 90,000 Rupiah (about $8). For the whole day! So, yeah, I
jumped all over it and took off in the morning. The second I rode it out of the
gate of the hotel, I just started smiling broadly to myself. I love that
feeling, total independence and being on my own and figuring things out by
instinct. The hotel had given me a map but, frankly, it was pretty useless. It
showed the whole island and did point out the different beaches and villages,
but it only showed one road. For the whole island. So I immediately knew I was going to have to wing
it. Fortunately, winging it is one of my better life skills.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9R8sF9UsZoQmumwkN12_oMIAnH6SnSgZPQ8vfqS7MixIcyu_GKY5Y374-tgRAFSfeILMCSBr4vSXcbP44NklwQqojwfHGoN5L9zqKDUrqqFomNEA_5vA4xyl06X9LWdZezcgoUyxR18zv/s1600/P1080871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9R8sF9UsZoQmumwkN12_oMIAnH6SnSgZPQ8vfqS7MixIcyu_GKY5Y374-tgRAFSfeILMCSBr4vSXcbP44NklwQqojwfHGoN5L9zqKDUrqqFomNEA_5vA4xyl06X9LWdZezcgoUyxR18zv/s320/P1080871.JPG" width="320" /></a>As soon as I got on the road, I started seeing the REAL Lombok, and I fell
in love. I went by beaches and through tiny little villages and up and down
mountains. Everywhere I turned was another breathtaking view. I had no idea
where I was going or how I would get back, but I didn’t care in the slightest.
I saw groups of schoolchildren in their sweet little school uniforms and locals
selling their wares and farmers working the fields and little kids playing
soccer on muddy fields and chickens crossing the road and, more than once,
traffic had to stop to allow a slowly meandering herd of cows to cross the
road.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_6SX3zzQjCJFDBh9WJc6gHOvklhZ98_r-a0m6c7eV44FDgG9HT3PLIx2sP3rngeJakventnYSA877Uu_p2wAJBvf694cm35N1-h5sV_9xRGH9haDu6T7hsBzu8xncVdc68Qy-4DTai5c/s1600/P1080872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_6SX3zzQjCJFDBh9WJc6gHOvklhZ98_r-a0m6c7eV44FDgG9HT3PLIx2sP3rngeJakventnYSA877Uu_p2wAJBvf694cm35N1-h5sV_9xRGH9haDu6T7hsBzu8xncVdc68Qy-4DTai5c/s320/P1080872.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The "gas station". Here you buy gas by the</em><br />
<em>bottle, and it may just be a vodka bottle!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I saw some different beaches off in the distance, the color of the water
beyond belief, but I finally stopped at one called Mawun Beach. As soon as I
walked onto it, I literally just stood there in awe. Never in my life have I
seen water so green/blue and brilliant. Once I came out of my stupor, I
realized that I didn’t have my bathing suit with me (I hadn’t planned to park
myself on a beach today) and could have cried. I decided I would just have to settle
for a walk along its shores but I didn’t get too far before I realized that that
wouldn’t do. I walked a little farther to a part where there were no people too
close (it was shockingly empty) and took advantage of the fact that I had a
pretty long tank top on which, come on, is practically just like wearing a
bathing suit. It was divine, truly divine. A nearly empty beach, the bluest
water I’d ever seen, bathwater warm and a brilliant blue sky. Why, WHY didn’t I
find this place earlier?<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiau_CTNE3Di2oUEuVtmj_dE19vQJ30ZMTp49V_q6Yh1KeBVFAUjVz6v7b9UnmYTtpYfY9zxbnXPIb90fYKksPcK3UpH9CLd8rKprsPILwEWBXwVIS9xHB8eR_ho_1BaQZSC2IsaLMviWwY/s1600/P1080878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiau_CTNE3Di2oUEuVtmj_dE19vQJ30ZMTp49V_q6Yh1KeBVFAUjVz6v7b9UnmYTtpYfY9zxbnXPIb90fYKksPcK3UpH9CLd8rKprsPILwEWBXwVIS9xHB8eR_ho_1BaQZSC2IsaLMviWwY/s320/P1080878.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>I almost killed myself for this picture; when I tried to pull over</em><br />
<em>I ran off the road and flipped off the bike!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After quite some time, I was about to get out of the water when I noticed a
group of 4 boys on the shore, looking at me and laughing and taking pictures. So
I hung out in the water a bit longer. I finally got out, got redressed and
started walking back the long stretch when I saw a perfectly lovely tree
offering some shade and decided to plunk myself down and enjoy the view for a
while. What I loved most about this beach, in addition to simply how
unbelievably gorgeous it was, was that it was just a regular beach frequented
by locals. No hotels, no restaurants, no one trying to sell you anything, just
real locals hanging out and enjoying the day. <o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalBRL6tZuqkuAOeF3hASpVC98L7yU2KISpe52riT20YUhpT2YrW2aHYGTMNH6OtYA-_FSFjNNmbQkkda5Y-REe3UBGB8PyT-t9WklLn9MRsOpR9fpyGTdPOWLkEfYho0Cm9oCktTBeacu/s1600/P1080879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalBRL6tZuqkuAOeF3hASpVC98L7yU2KISpe52riT20YUhpT2YrW2aHYGTMNH6OtYA-_FSFjNNmbQkkda5Y-REe3UBGB8PyT-t9WklLn9MRsOpR9fpyGTdPOWLkEfYho0Cm9oCktTBeacu/s320/P1080879.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>This picture from a mountaintop does the blue/green-ness </em><br />
<em>of the water absolutely NO justice.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbWTwPJ8-u9LGq177ptklWOfnR51z1WTUYJ1co-GwamyckFVh2n_3BEtiCzF7KKnjdlkZTOboo8C8oVVoWMe03EyTTFoQd6QhJ175OoEQZd4L2URgcdtwVh_Xx2cQP5x-djqNp_xu8Np5F/s1600/P1080882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbWTwPJ8-u9LGq177ptklWOfnR51z1WTUYJ1co-GwamyckFVh2n_3BEtiCzF7KKnjdlkZTOboo8C8oVVoWMe03EyTTFoQd6QhJ175OoEQZd4L2URgcdtwVh_Xx2cQP5x-djqNp_xu8Np5F/s320/P1080882.JPG" width="320" /></a>But, as is common here, the locals take a keen interest in white people.
Although, I do think perhaps it’s more extreme in my case since I’m by myself.
That seems to be some sort of inconceivable fact here as every single person
I’ve had more than a passing chat with has asked me about it. Every single one.
So it didn’t take long (less than 2 minutes) before a youngish boy came up and
asked me what I was doing here by myself. He plunked himself down and sat and
talked with me for a long time, inviting me to go with he and his friends to
another beach down the road. I declined very politely as I really just wanted
to hang there for a bit. Not another 5 minutes went by before the 4 boys who
had been taking pictures of me in the water came up and plunked themselves
down. The funny part was that between the 4 of them, they spoke about 10 words
of English so the conversation was preeeetty limited, to say the least, but
they were happy just to sit by me and talk and laugh. And shamelessly take
picture after picture of me, as if I weren’t sitting just 3 feet from them and
didn’t notice. But they were cute and good-natured so I didn’t mind.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68GrL-YcM37-uVPCx9J_gQoOAzlosHQ4bClHvJbyesmb1VcKAx6S1ge93se8HR9IUKYf6lrXG42I6ceio8MnFk98shYkythVIlPMdddi5ujM-BdhZ4Y2eR-p4mZkoZ89CijhQ41LS9ooI/s1600/P1080883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj68GrL-YcM37-uVPCx9J_gQoOAzlosHQ4bClHvJbyesmb1VcKAx6S1ge93se8HR9IUKYf6lrXG42I6ceio8MnFk98shYkythVIlPMdddi5ujM-BdhZ4Y2eR-p4mZkoZ89CijhQ41LS9ooI/s320/P1080883.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Mawun Beach... heaven on earth</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Not another 5 minutes later, yet another group approached, one boy who spoke
English and some of his friends who did not. The girls just kept covering their
mouths and giggling any time I would try to say something to them. The boy is
studying English in university and was SUPER excited to get to speak to me so
they were around quite a while. At one point they had left and gone back to their
tree but then asked me to join them, which I did. I think here, somehow, the
idea of someone being on their own is some sort of tragedy so when they see
someone by themself, it’s inherent in them to want to include them. It’s
extremely nice, actually.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lpSmdxJVPG7r0RlFLu5vpx0I7VtB5b6Xze9MfyHcegl4ORQ8CY1atkpf3Voul-Bp5i8Vno1wf89iirSjbNkD4YFnKf68_Z3sdQofACG7AE6xODrvvr8lri7KkIWN0esi-_q7iC68x7nf/s1600/P1080887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lpSmdxJVPG7r0RlFLu5vpx0I7VtB5b6Xze9MfyHcegl4ORQ8CY1atkpf3Voul-Bp5i8Vno1wf89iirSjbNkD4YFnKf68_Z3sdQofACG7AE6xODrvvr8lri7KkIWN0esi-_q7iC68x7nf/s320/P1080887.JPG" width="320" /></a>I finally tore myself away from there, ready to head to another beach they
had recommended but I wasn’t on the road a full minute before it started to
rain. And then it started to pour. As in hard, pelting rain, which is only
amplified when riding a motorbike in a tank top. It got so bad I couldn’t see
and had to pull over and hang out under a tree for a while. I decided to keep trying to
motor on but after about 20 minutes, I started to realize that, even if I did
make it to the next beach, what was the point in the pouring rain? Dejected and
defeated, I turned back. Sad, sad times.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDF1oJmmyeyOOBCNnGp7AsWwuKRCtumElBXYxMrAoaVelYhRrjuHvFugTb6RAiYatnJje_YPGakN9hYj21H8RvJQL3nNby0l-IlZIPADJOd_Rj72sGyqmF06hXCb4NbE_XQJaRCoeillw/s1600/P1080888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDF1oJmmyeyOOBCNnGp7AsWwuKRCtumElBXYxMrAoaVelYhRrjuHvFugTb6RAiYatnJje_YPGakN9hYj21H8RvJQL3nNby0l-IlZIPADJOd_Rj72sGyqmF06hXCb4NbE_XQJaRCoeillw/s320/P1080888.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Group Two of random boys that came and sat down with me</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But at least the day up until that point had been glorious and will leave me
with the best memories of Lombok possible. I love this little island. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uZR1AbefoFeqIsguXUMlszspJCgDNVnmGUUIOBSnyL59IsbDxXz4vNBwj-1QDC-99eSU-PSzI7cKF8GPcdl4cqHePZmZvd5KD3tbFoR5tZ8jB9YXT_Lds_2TVnBrQS4dy_dJjU6rIeb1/s1600/P1080866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uZR1AbefoFeqIsguXUMlszspJCgDNVnmGUUIOBSnyL59IsbDxXz4vNBwj-1QDC-99eSU-PSzI7cKF8GPcdl4cqHePZmZvd5KD3tbFoR5tZ8jB9YXT_Lds_2TVnBrQS4dy_dJjU6rIeb1/s1600/P1080866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlG94LNByYAqvE8IU8g18fT_dY_a1AvXb7mh2h2YWAv9d3SLkqCIZvMHCsPUl3ehFNyP7CcHqryDYZp2Pe9xDmXk5aVSfhqevgjufPicERAnjpCL1s99ZK3lGD4mntcgm23_HBLHqXoDYI/s1600/P1080868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlG94LNByYAqvE8IU8g18fT_dY_a1AvXb7mh2h2YWAv9d3SLkqCIZvMHCsPUl3ehFNyP7CcHqryDYZp2Pe9xDmXk5aVSfhqevgjufPicERAnjpCL1s99ZK3lGD4mntcgm23_HBLHqXoDYI/s1600/P1080868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlG94LNByYAqvE8IU8g18fT_dY_a1AvXb7mh2h2YWAv9d3SLkqCIZvMHCsPUl3ehFNyP7CcHqryDYZp2Pe9xDmXk5aVSfhqevgjufPicERAnjpCL1s99ZK3lGD4mntcgm23_HBLHqXoDYI/s1600/P1080868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlG94LNByYAqvE8IU8g18fT_dY_a1AvXb7mh2h2YWAv9d3SLkqCIZvMHCsPUl3ehFNyP7CcHqryDYZp2Pe9xDmXk5aVSfhqevgjufPicERAnjpCL1s99ZK3lGD4mntcgm23_HBLHqXoDYI/s1600/P1080868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Group Three of random people... at least this guy spoke English!</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Just ignore the raindrop in the middle of the picture; take </em><br />
<em>note of the little boys playing soccer naked. When it rains,</em><br />
<em>apparently all of the little boys get naked... I saw them </em><br />
<em>running around all over the place, happy as clams.</em></td></tr>
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<br />Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-12147327147228949552013-12-07T23:59:00.000-03:002013-12-21T02:54:31.830-03:00This Sunset Deserves Its Very Own Post<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYZR_8G3QcfX98DrjFTDPY3y-v1VYeJDk_y48QxbjYJFY8AA6HxCXrgCmI22M3D3BWr3T6iTag2u5kpdOCs2rKNpns7-RTfPKgSSfOENFRvH8GqA_KnVrG5d2PnpFYYdXdmV1n6UY7LK7/s1600/P1080802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsYZR_8G3QcfX98DrjFTDPY3y-v1VYeJDk_y48QxbjYJFY8AA6HxCXrgCmI22M3D3BWr3T6iTag2u5kpdOCs2rKNpns7-RTfPKgSSfOENFRvH8GqA_KnVrG5d2PnpFYYdXdmV1n6UY7LK7/s320/P1080802.JPG" width="240" /></a>Best. Sunset. Ever. For realz.<br />
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And, yes, this is actually how it looked, no touch-ups or edits. And, yes, it was all just one sunset but it kept changing and became so many different things with so many colors. Just when you would think it was over and I would start walking away, it would change again. It was truly, truly stunning.<br />
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Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-36341520408063886612013-12-07T23:48:00.000-03:002013-12-08T11:32:24.974-03:00I Think I'm Stayin'<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-4ANCrpp6a-jWsLu2pNUsblNF12kNsc-fqDI_rKaYqdkcB7WMuHL-B1fhrcfuDFUgu9cqRDO_UZkV594v26Q5vjHsqoMrxY52Zt61WIaT8SQYdJS4nB6K6ccyOJGuICJ5Per6VN3sehay/s1600/P1080749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-4ANCrpp6a-jWsLu2pNUsblNF12kNsc-fqDI_rKaYqdkcB7WMuHL-B1fhrcfuDFUgu9cqRDO_UZkV594v26Q5vjHsqoMrxY52Zt61WIaT8SQYdJS4nB6K6ccyOJGuICJ5Per6VN3sehay/s320/P1080749.JPG" width="320" /></a>My week on the beach has been exactly what I wanted it to be. Me. On the
beach. The End. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I’m sure there are other things I should be doing while here but somehow I
just don’t care. This is exactly what I wanted to do when I envisioned coming
to a beach in Indonesia: spend all day in a bathing suit and sarong, never
venturing farther than the walk from my swanky room to my favorite thatched
roof hut, listening to the waves, reading, swimming, drinking fresh fruit
juices, walking along the beach, reading some more and watching the sun set. It
has been glorious.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENaXMGV_PewCECeVEy8FbkIk3j7TKIZlaTQNqWQl8cujpGqDUKf3zeslCceJGjkJqp84dhnhUtYQQimYElGjpsKfrUXmVRRDBVweuZ83A-wMsYvZZkfr7RQVpVLIz1R50ine_1mMw5uf1/s1600/P1080760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENaXMGV_PewCECeVEy8FbkIk3j7TKIZlaTQNqWQl8cujpGqDUKf3zeslCceJGjkJqp84dhnhUtYQQimYElGjpsKfrUXmVRRDBVweuZ83A-wMsYvZZkfr7RQVpVLIz1R50ine_1mMw5uf1/s320/P1080760.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>This is pretty much how my whole week has looked. Thatched </em><br />
<em>roof hut, fresh fruit juice, Kindle, beach. What else </em><br />
<em>could you possibly need?</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiff9m78yuBSC3JW030ajx_lCHOpDBeFTfdWE2KglnMy8f2NZha68ARtt5JSD871Pwk4iw9VjG0xGFPyQX8g8FrqnZZickfsj_lZQTOCKeil0ZXxJ3nhCPZ_6fnk_It6nOx__2_UFGILxBS/s1600/P1080762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiff9m78yuBSC3JW030ajx_lCHOpDBeFTfdWE2KglnMy8f2NZha68ARtt5JSD871Pwk4iw9VjG0xGFPyQX8g8FrqnZZickfsj_lZQTOCKeil0ZXxJ3nhCPZ_6fnk_It6nOx__2_UFGILxBS/s320/P1080762.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Sweet little Ana</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I recently saw a list of the friendliest places in the world to travel and
Indonesia ranked among the very highest. From the little experience I’ve had
here so far, I would have to agree. I’ve noticed that everyone you pass, every
single one, says “Good morning/afternoon/evening” to you. Here you don’t just
walk on by someone like in the US, you look them in the eye and smile and greet
them. I dig that. At first I thought it may just be something the workers here
at the hotel are required to do but throughout the week I’ve seen the same
thing from everyone I’ve encountered along the way. It’s often followed up by a
“How are you?” or “Where are you from?”. It’s amazing to me how such small
gestures, knowing that you’re seen by the people around you and that they’re
curious about you, can make you feel so welcome and not so alone in a place. I
love that. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2E3R0EYs4BsLeBnoImvUqL4-sjWFSEMl6srXnJmviyrpOBz494wpT8kCXaPtlIcmqsDeC99fSh2q5q5gF370yUTPHq8_y-i8ebOQupbVgGLHkDd8H32Ky9bCTu2_-boDynqOHeqMLGFR/s1600/P1080768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2E3R0EYs4BsLeBnoImvUqL4-sjWFSEMl6srXnJmviyrpOBz494wpT8kCXaPtlIcmqsDeC99fSh2q5q5gF370yUTPHq8_y-i8ebOQupbVgGLHkDd8H32Ky9bCTu2_-boDynqOHeqMLGFR/s320/P1080768.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
I’ve also noticed that it extends beyond basic courtesies, that exchanging
names and using them often in a conversation is common. Almost everyone gives
you their name and asks for yours in return and then they use them often. Even
if it’s just someone walking along side you on the path for a minute or two.
And, more remarkable to me, they remember them. People that work here, people
I’ve met on the beach, everyone remembers your name and when they see you
again, call out an enthusiastic “Hello, Katy!” (although more often than not,
mine gets turned into Kelly or Kitty… seems Katy is a toughie for them). Again,
I love it. It’s such a small thing, really, but once you’re around it, you
realize that it’s actually quite a big thing. It makes things personal and
tells you that you’re seen and valued as a fellow human being. I never really
thought about how little we do that in the US until I started noticing how much
they do it here. Love, love it. <o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhvq7GyyFm_uLTvbd_0Lxvb9jv5T_rOzDcN6x7c8I3ZG3QI01WvpQAXm-HPffvtY5KPb2pXmAs1WiWjlMGVisVdrayEzPrMhyphenhyphenFWXjhSx1TOj75wZdcBUI0sLFMWxBA_Hsw_pqc2h41hsX/s1600/P1080770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhvq7GyyFm_uLTvbd_0Lxvb9jv5T_rOzDcN6x7c8I3ZG3QI01WvpQAXm-HPffvtY5KPb2pXmAs1WiWjlMGVisVdrayEzPrMhyphenhyphenFWXjhSx1TOj75wZdcBUI0sLFMWxBA_Hsw_pqc2h41hsX/s320/P1080770.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>This is my view over my morning coffee every day.</em><br />
<em>Not too shabby, eh?</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While I was here, I expected to have the occasional local come up and try to
sell me things. What I did not expect was the complete and utter inundation
that would be from the first minute I set foot on the beach (literally). I had
no sooner stuck my big toe in the water than I had two little girls on top of
me, trying to sell me bracelets. I thought I would politely decline and that would
be that. But no. And while in some places it could be utterly exhausting and
annoying, here it is mixed with genuine kindness so it’s hard to get too
ruffled by it. What gets tricky is how, based on their seemingly inherent
tendency to make friends with everyone, they just start asking you questions
(“Where are you from?”, “How long are you here?”, etc, etc) and you don’t want
to be rude and not respond, so you do. But once you do, you’ve now begun a
conversation that will not end. And once names are exchanged, look out! It’s a
tough balance because I really do just want to sit and read and not be bothered
every 10 minutes (and I’m speaking literally) but on the other hand you don’t
want to be dismissive or rude, but as soon as you start talking to one, five
more materialize from out of nowhere. <o:p></o:p><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTHbgliOO-gGi9nte1jMVcIAWSCbBRrnMX6FI0V-KF6ZazdQF96aGnBCd4SMUF0RBPw-Un7zrrbLtY3yv3HnIcwrREzCzFbMvRhKi7I2tOw89gqUB-ASqC7BbT4l6BaCg14KooNmrcLzD/s1600/P1080772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTHbgliOO-gGi9nte1jMVcIAWSCbBRrnMX6FI0V-KF6ZazdQF96aGnBCd4SMUF0RBPw-Un7zrrbLtY3yv3HnIcwrREzCzFbMvRhKi7I2tOw89gqUB-ASqC7BbT4l6BaCg14KooNmrcLzD/s320/P1080772.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
And if you show even the SLIGHTEST bit of interest in what they’re selling,
oh my. Suddenly there are whole groups of them, all trying to sell you whatever
it is they have. And they make themselves comfortable. They plunk themselves down
and settle in and suddenly you’re sitting there trying to read while you have
10 people sitting around you, staring at you. Literally. And they have no
qualms about it (apparently, I’M the only one who finds it awkward) and will just
sit and stare at you for long, long periods of time. But I just want to read my
book, dangit!<o:p></o:p><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPVckb06Lua5PfFcTtMhgewRWBH2pBk9wHUEqwBa64ZOEC-_0vNuB72q8_TdjAdQCCW-0-OMW1kYUsrkilXp6GP7K57NZhInLIG-QRW1aow4-p73z1fEmKXTb3plcAYKZiWPsARG4QnOFQ/s1600/P1080773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPVckb06Lua5PfFcTtMhgewRWBH2pBk9wHUEqwBa64ZOEC-_0vNuB72q8_TdjAdQCCW-0-OMW1kYUsrkilXp6GP7K57NZhInLIG-QRW1aow4-p73z1fEmKXTb3plcAYKZiWPsARG4QnOFQ/s320/P1080773.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
I quickly got used to it and learned to navigate around it… until the guilt
trips started. I’m okay with and understand their wanting to sell me things,
but I don’t respond well to guilt. So when I started hearing things like
“You’re rich, you should buy from me” or “If you buy something, we’ll leave you
alone” or “I have no business, you need to give me business” or “I have no
business, you rich so you need to buy something from me”, that is when I’m done
with the situation. Even more so when two tiny little girls started rolling
around on the ground, whining “But it’s not faaair”. Sigh. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7qEhOMN1g1HU1veL8_CjK-u9FZh54TCVopO5IjVNxd8X4F0tH5vX_yQo6ABOcs6doHsCfQFspFnHfDKjaF9GtMjQIHRqawxnlsQrD-tVdyhEZrVJzoOAecMC9oH3IY6IwRgufKNK2OdGA/s1600/P1080781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7qEhOMN1g1HU1veL8_CjK-u9FZh54TCVopO5IjVNxd8X4F0tH5vX_yQo6ABOcs6doHsCfQFspFnHfDKjaF9GtMjQIHRqawxnlsQrD-tVdyhEZrVJzoOAecMC9oH3IY6IwRgufKNK2OdGA/s320/P1080781.JPG" width="320" /></a>There was, however, one little girl whose smile melted my heart: Ana. She
was the very first person to approach me and she came back several times a day,
just to chat. She quickly knew I wasn’t going to buy anything but still she
came back, just to say hello and to chat. We talked about her life, she asked
me questions about the US, she looked through my pictures (she was pretty
fascinated by them) and, above all, she flashed that smile at me. She
told me how nice I was, that I smiled a lot and, even though I didn’t want to
buy anything, I was nice to her and didn’t yell at her like so many other
people do. She was interested in my white skin and regularly would touch it and
say “You very white”. She said she loves white skin and wishes she were white.
I told her I thought her skin was beautiful. She said “Really? You really think
my skin is beautiful?”. It was heartbreaking. It also makes me sad that kids
her age are in a situation where they have to be out all day, every day selling
wares to foreigners to help their families get by. It made me even sadder when
she said that girls starting at 14 or so (and even some her age, 12) are
regularly married off and have several children by the time they’re 20 (she was
stunned that at my age I am not married and have no children). Beautiful little
Ana.<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyr_Phbq82_lrIF1qGyScxuMVioNdl5F4wgY5jR6dKjVSfSxsUAxslMQLrzfXn66jW-OeGpUW-o-r7N95TSWeoNcejhHu_0ESuHwJF8KCq7R1n7QklojFCnrrC6Uw5VD7-1yMCLpxCuLJZ/s1600/P1080782.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyr_Phbq82_lrIF1qGyScxuMVioNdl5F4wgY5jR6dKjVSfSxsUAxslMQLrzfXn66jW-OeGpUW-o-r7N95TSWeoNcejhHu_0ESuHwJF8KCq7R1n7QklojFCnrrC6Uw5VD7-1yMCLpxCuLJZ/s320/P1080782.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>How DO they do that??</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My biggest "excitement" thus far surrounded buying my next ticket, to Bali. I
found a local little airline that does the flight several times daily for the
incredibly low price of $20. Twenty dollars! I was beyond excited and went to
book it online. After repeated attempts, and MUCH wasted time, the system kept
coming back saying my card could not be verified. I tried to call the airline,
no answer. No big, I think, just a glitch and I’ll try again in the morning.
Same thing all over again. Slight panic sets in as my flight back to Seoul is
from Bali so I HAVE to get there. I finally reach a person only to find out,
long story short, that the system doesn’t accept credit cards online (despite
having a whole process for paying by credit card). Okay, no problem, I’ll book
over the phone, I say. We go through the whole deal, get all the details and,
at the end, when I’m ready to pay, she tells me they don’t process credit cards
over the phone either. Um, I don’t understand the system then. She informed me
that I would have to go to the airport to pay as if, duh, this is the way it’s
done everywhere. So I can just pay when I get to the airport to take the
flight, I ask? No, you have to go by 8 pm tonight. Awesome. I check at the
hotel desk and find out it will cost me not only precious beach time to make
the trip to/from the airport (2 hours or so) but will also cost me even more
than the actual ticket in taxi fares! Sigh. I was just about to have her call
the car (why fight the system?) when she says “Or you could just ask the
transportation person here and they’ll book it for you and you can pay them
back”. Just like that. So some random dude makes my reservation and pays for it
for me within 5 minutes. Done. He did, however, charge a “service fee” of
approximately $3, which he apologized profusely for. Uh, no problem Random Guy
Who Just Bought Me a Plane Ticket. Hands down the best $3 I’ve spent on my whole trip!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc6ne6FxkZyPtJM7uhOV4Ra2VwsOO0iTHbE16bNIg6LLLHnHxJDZ8WOI8sqNt3r1tsZR7hB3Zx0UXCNAyeo554WVaFl09fq6glqy09_ZO9oGTttxhk_xLDsQTYdQVrb72AafW0SzPkF_am/s1600/P1080795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc6ne6FxkZyPtJM7uhOV4Ra2VwsOO0iTHbE16bNIg6LLLHnHxJDZ8WOI8sqNt3r1tsZR7hB3Zx0UXCNAyeo554WVaFl09fq6glqy09_ZO9oGTttxhk_xLDsQTYdQVrb72AafW0SzPkF_am/s320/P1080795.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>This guy made the mistake of showing interest in something </em><br />
<em>and soon half the village was all over him. <br />Rookie mistake.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7_2t7CiDRJdkHCW7aKCGNMT4bQcq-icoQWc0ZfhhJmGHvxDGaQDBwSvr_xHdiBx-aA7nu4bWGudMLySAsh5lMDAQXr8MKNpkJpoXDU98MWCMgc13C-HW1MYzc21gUHpfDJBYt_IkESvc/s1600/P1080796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7_2t7CiDRJdkHCW7aKCGNMT4bQcq-icoQWc0ZfhhJmGHvxDGaQDBwSvr_xHdiBx-aA7nu4bWGudMLySAsh5lMDAQXr8MKNpkJpoXDU98MWCMgc13C-HW1MYzc21gUHpfDJBYt_IkESvc/s320/P1080796.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-26868577183095374482013-12-03T23:19:00.000-03:002013-12-07T11:22:40.630-03:00Lovin' Lombok<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixweQFGYih_cTbXE9yorrJ0hgvJQdwHHqRsDwVLwUVCQtqtoKCNeeQGM2DB7Y225xjJBGWiSJkZKAI9Ve79U509Uc5KXKUaDLR5JD0ca7TVK3xQKCD5gjAyKR9O_5qjv3JATOZIYmmepWh/s1600/P1080729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixweQFGYih_cTbXE9yorrJ0hgvJQdwHHqRsDwVLwUVCQtqtoKCNeeQGM2DB7Y225xjJBGWiSJkZKAI9Ve79U509Uc5KXKUaDLR5JD0ca7TVK3xQKCD5gjAyKR9O_5qjv3JATOZIYmmepWh/s320/P1080729.JPG" width="320" /></a>Here I am, the one place I was determined to come to in Asia. When the idea
of the trip presented itself back in the fall, I only had two set objectives in
mind: 1. spend time with my friend in Korea and 2. spend a week on an
Indonesian beach. That was it… and here I am!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlunhiMws3pz4-FggF88WLSjGG6Ka-EEYpeE5bg4JaR5FuNmv6dtW_V7ZlgpgBhC8mA0W04M6S64x4h5hCB4uxEOYUKrcE4PdY6gnsdQshE9Fhc8U1GTWJaSxD-EMzHB8UwM5ImY16IoAR/s1600/P1080724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlunhiMws3pz4-FggF88WLSjGG6Ka-EEYpeE5bg4JaR5FuNmv6dtW_V7ZlgpgBhC8mA0W04M6S64x4h5hCB4uxEOYUKrcE4PdY6gnsdQshE9Fhc8U1GTWJaSxD-EMzHB8UwM5ImY16IoAR/s320/P1080724.JPG" width="320" /></a>I didn’t know much about Indonesian beaches but I did know that I did not
want to end up on a super touristy one. So it was worth some of my time last
week to do some minor research to find out which one was still the most “pure”.
Combine that piece of information with the options of the affordable flights I
could get from Kuala Lumpur and I ended up with the island of Lombok. And thus
far it seems like a great choice!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwlZG_Vpul2TyWVt2P7IEMaMUyPJ7oQr062IDl-K6XfdHp8wtjCw1QuuQ29KgXVt3zd-xN7dtoYny2NhHpbR8wkM8PRHtg6MMYWzT7l1Tcvzb3FtA4BF0XcyDA2a0RHBdHwNquTZI_swyZ/s1600/P1080731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwlZG_Vpul2TyWVt2P7IEMaMUyPJ7oQr062IDl-K6XfdHp8wtjCw1QuuQ29KgXVt3zd-xN7dtoYny2NhHpbR8wkM8PRHtg6MMYWzT7l1Tcvzb3FtA4BF0XcyDA2a0RHBdHwNquTZI_swyZ/s320/P1080731.JPG" width="320" /></a>Because this was the part of my trip I was determined to do, and the one place I had set out to come to and had my heart set on for months ahead of time, I decided this would be my one big “splurge” in the hotel department. As money goes so much farther here, it was still not a relatively huge amount (by US standards) but, as it turns out, money really DOES go farther here. I figured it would be nice but when the porter walked me into my room, I literally had to fight to keep myself from gasping and/or giggling like a total nerd. It was huge and immaculate and luxurious and had a private terrace with doors that open to the sound of waves crashing. To die for.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9XhTR8JCrN_RzZIcO-maOYcztUuGIR1WezL8KEbat3eJFRIMZWyaQO5hZX_6x6-XHScwbufRF-C5hq-cEsJyPRTf4tQSQQCX3yh8kTs7dspcY8OsN2wkzTUfPJty1EMfD91vUk95IPEex/s1600/P1080735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9XhTR8JCrN_RzZIcO-maOYcztUuGIR1WezL8KEbat3eJFRIMZWyaQO5hZX_6x6-XHScwbufRF-C5hq-cEsJyPRTf4tQSQQCX3yh8kTs7dspcY8OsN2wkzTUfPJty1EMfD91vUk95IPEex/s320/P1080735.JPG" width="320" /></a>I headed pretty immediately to the beach to check it out and it did not disappoint. My visions of my week on an Indonesian beach most definitely included thatched roof huts so walking onto the beach and seeing a whole row of such huts lining the water almost pushed me over the edge. I plunked myself right down and didn’t move a muscle until the sun set. Yep, I’m gonna LOVE it here!<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrJDODzry_2nUlrTBq1_Y5UAfTx16RUjwsGpFexag5xp9ylXBVISfOLZIXWN7ktV51WMiVM9TW1pMIaU0j6cJgGEv1JklsgsFujFsc1ZaLzhyphenhyphenchtT3_wILmV0gEtgMcLhz2JdJFNzzSio/s1600/P1080738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrJDODzry_2nUlrTBq1_Y5UAfTx16RUjwsGpFexag5xp9ylXBVISfOLZIXWN7ktV51WMiVM9TW1pMIaU0j6cJgGEv1JklsgsFujFsc1ZaLzhyphenhyphenchtT3_wILmV0gEtgMcLhz2JdJFNzzSio/s320/P1080738.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-32252721958104294512013-12-02T23:26:00.000-03:002013-12-07T11:11:24.963-03:00Planz, Schmanz<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VzIFdaE_AC1JosUc6i4AAxDHSnkZg-War5B21nladzWwgdxJcDOvXImj2XX74s8bApIyT0R0KhSl2GAJd2YC5acLuZsaYunFlJqJYWp3B1Q3hDjA7l6OwBeZ-zVib-OxrpnBmHV6KXDg/s1600/P1080715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VzIFdaE_AC1JosUc6i4AAxDHSnkZg-War5B21nladzWwgdxJcDOvXImj2XX74s8bApIyT0R0KhSl2GAJd2YC5acLuZsaYunFlJqJYWp3B1Q3hDjA7l6OwBeZ-zVib-OxrpnBmHV6KXDg/s320/P1080715.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The Petronas Towers can be seen from </em><br />
<em>almost anywhere in the city</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Even more evidence to negate the need to make plans, as if I needed any
more. As today is my last day here, I actually had some plans in mind. Shocker!
I was going to play super tourist and check off three biggies in one day:
Istana Negara (the former royal palace, which is now a museum), The National Mosque of Malaysia and, finally,
scaling the Kuala Lumpur Tower to end my trip with a great overall view of the
city. A perfect plan! <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhRW35v9CGAG6YN0KnbAkTa763vYcfuyxG0KZm1VvaSO-S9EcFnKu-IJxRL2fGOuYULECJWSmxCAEI_QM8zXXqSbKlEbFgOZi8JWVAUD2JbFUTz7QmTS_UChC4sRaMzGajo8tOPBSME42/s1600/P1080716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhRW35v9CGAG6YN0KnbAkTa763vYcfuyxG0KZm1VvaSO-S9EcFnKu-IJxRL2fGOuYULECJWSmxCAEI_QM8zXXqSbKlEbFgOZi8JWVAUD2JbFUTz7QmTS_UChC4sRaMzGajo8tOPBSME42/s320/P1080716.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Christmas decorations are pretty </em><br />
<em>over-the-top here</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And then I woke up and it was raining. No problem, I thought. It has rained
here every morning and it usually clears up by lunchtime. I went and had my
morning coffee, figuring I’d head out after that but, nope, still raining. A
lot. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_lA_ysOLoKSFAQPIKBOTjJfiOb35OHcYpHgmTaTyTG632F5leJ8H1rtwT3sSp9L7K_dpX7zPm3ZwuH9MgTnFW0CzT4NzCa3scDTOqTuiLLxbsbhttX7e3lo3SlBdtz8fNk5Lpb2Xff1x/s1600/P1080717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_lA_ysOLoKSFAQPIKBOTjJfiOb35OHcYpHgmTaTyTG632F5leJ8H1rtwT3sSp9L7K_dpX7zPm3ZwuH9MgTnFW0CzT4NzCa3scDTOqTuiLLxbsbhttX7e3lo3SlBdtz8fNk5Lpb2Xff1x/s320/P1080717.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Now rain is survivable and normally not something that would deter me from
being out and about, but somehow it just sapped ALL of my motivation to forge
ahead. Probably the fact that I have been walking and sweating profusely since
landing in Manila a week ago didn’t help. Maybe my energy has just finally worn
out and the rain was all the push I needed to just take a day to chill. So
that’s exactly what I did.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lSbuePllvT7Zh0g_afPFjM7KHUpy0HV0laNEaYSv4nKDWYiYLzV6yc1V5XlLoo4y6wghsKs0sjqQCrk2KK6YlG0OGS8og8va5CThCF6xx1eVZQJKz5kl5wopOPb1LP1nLrmb-Yqg2i24/s1600/P1080719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lSbuePllvT7Zh0g_afPFjM7KHUpy0HV0laNEaYSv4nKDWYiYLzV6yc1V5XlLoo4y6wghsKs0sjqQCrk2KK6YlG0OGS8og8va5CThCF6xx1eVZQJKz5kl5wopOPb1LP1nLrmb-Yqg2i24/s320/P1080719.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Does anyone else find it amusing that Asian stick figures</em><br />
<em>are fat while American stick figures are, well, sticks?</em><br />
<em>Kind of backwards, isn't it?</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I still had a lot of trip planning to do (airline tickets to buy, hotels to
book… still didn’t have one for tomorrow!) so I figured this would be the day
to get it done. I hunkered down for a while and made an impressive amount of
progress, if I do say so myself. (Have I mentioned just how much I despise,
abhor, loathe making plans??) At which point I thought I would reward myself
with getting a much-needed pedicure. A little more planning and then off for a
final Malaysian massage, this one a full body number. It was glorious. <o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGS1NHyT7GweWExGQk-Co7Y1Qya-wHzqa_v1if1L8d77RRhVKLZd4Am7z3Rj4sgU_F5Y5uk96Jv873WUWGTZoCHykT5Wd-nGYju7jebR9vIH8M3tHaVgHP78NnhMjS35d4fCU-9FRhT2nL/s1600/P1080721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGS1NHyT7GweWExGQk-Co7Y1Qya-wHzqa_v1if1L8d77RRhVKLZd4Am7z3Rj4sgU_F5Y5uk96Jv873WUWGTZoCHykT5Wd-nGYju7jebR9vIH8M3tHaVgHP78NnhMjS35d4fCU-9FRhT2nL/s320/P1080721.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>So this seems like a cool, minimalist concept...</em><br />
<em>until you actually take a shower and then the</em><br />
<em>entire bathroom is soaked. You better just </em><br />
<em>hope you don't have to use the john for a</em><br />
<em>few hours after showering</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And that was my day. <br />
<br />
It was a shame I didn’t get to see the things I’d
wanted to and I’m sure some day I’ll regret not having done it while I was
here, but for today it felt like the exact right decision. Tonight I pack up
(getting pretty sick of packing, gotta say) and then up tomorrow for yet
another obscenely early wake-up call. Cheap airlines are awesome but why, WHY
are all of their flights at such ungodly hours?!? I certainly hope there’s a
suggestion box at the airport.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-18475187082734586282013-12-01T23:12:00.000-03:002013-12-06T12:37:15.797-03:00An Unexpectedly Delightful Day<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwfUNU0LCdxnPFmWhyphenhyphenCX747RtM_xtEfxnnYQYHASRJifAldwXHwXJJR__d8HWTkqaXaBSbJ2U0xorL1EUI-3v6nQKjU0Dc7EWAU4MeKwRLCyEbTPlwkPxUCOA32ZpSzNsnE7QfeOSjpeq/s1600/P1080685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwwfUNU0LCdxnPFmWhyphenhyphenCX747RtM_xtEfxnnYQYHASRJifAldwXHwXJJR__d8HWTkqaXaBSbJ2U0xorL1EUI-3v6nQKjU0Dc7EWAU4MeKwRLCyEbTPlwkPxUCOA32ZpSzNsnE7QfeOSjpeq/s320/P1080685.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Chinatown</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sometimes in life it really DOES pay to not have plans. See? I knew it!<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyUpcraaNGLARrFKJbZ-FDCvUFmQfz28R-lbHKeZkDwPUgy9BN8TQClQIn3tEL0dhczMrLJyXW3A20OS7G-PF28U-vt65yNRC_HFuwOEa7g-Wb4YFWx-HLD_c3FJZtzixVpK7cC-UjoQEv/s1600/P1080688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyUpcraaNGLARrFKJbZ-FDCvUFmQfz28R-lbHKeZkDwPUgy9BN8TQClQIn3tEL0dhczMrLJyXW3A20OS7G-PF28U-vt65yNRC_HFuwOEa7g-Wb4YFWx-HLD_c3FJZtzixVpK7cC-UjoQEv/s320/P1080688.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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Today my one and only plan was to make my way to Central Market. It has
recently occurred to me that Christmas is around the corner and, as I'll be
home only a few days before it, I figured I might as well get on top of it
while here. As usual, the plan was to walk. Despite the oppressive (and I don’t
use the term lightly) humidity here, I haven't let it stop me from exploring by
foot, I've just learned to a) not even bother showering in the morning before
heading out and b) carry lots of napkins with me. Guh-ross.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOFD97HQNsxXqZ_SST9Ps63RAPBWffISG_aKNNgHxbavQD5qcdE3deeOFacPLIIWEtTdk_CC-Dd8R1IFB45lKx0_8BRBvMTPlpN-xFDQYyKwoSEgMZfnlrgnbXmz56awS12y2cZ6K_5A9/s1600/P1080689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOFD97HQNsxXqZ_SST9Ps63RAPBWffISG_aKNNgHxbavQD5qcdE3deeOFacPLIIWEtTdk_CC-Dd8R1IFB45lKx0_8BRBvMTPlpN-xFDQYyKwoSEgMZfnlrgnbXmz56awS12y2cZ6K_5A9/s320/P1080689.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Central Market</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For the first time ever on my international travels, I coughed up the money
to have an international data plan because I knew it would be helpful to have
GPS enabled while walking around. I have to say it has been the best money I've
ever spent! The only part of traveling that ever, ever stresses me out is
getting lost. I suck at maps. A lot. So when I'm on my own and I get lost (as
my tendency to wander aimlessly tends to result in) and know I have almost zero
ability to get back on my own it really annoys me. So this time when my
friend back in Korea suggested just paying for data and using GPS while walking
around, a lightbulb went off. It seemed like such a simple, glorious solution.
And it has been.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCmIlnsyPCu8FZW_1budKgHobTjIjz9cPzzcLV6F9SBjq4AJViygBb66wL52fuA8VzUuU2DA5UdnaYfok26jQwDqFSU09uDWIC-HYZ2mDsYxPFOOnhkULRqCPdw2aZ0IzZCaENld8zEzY/s1600/P1080690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCmIlnsyPCu8FZW_1budKgHobTjIjz9cPzzcLV6F9SBjq4AJViygBb66wL52fuA8VzUuU2DA5UdnaYfok26jQwDqFSU09uDWIC-HYZ2mDsYxPFOOnhkULRqCPdw2aZ0IzZCaENld8zEzY/s320/P1080690.JPG" width="320" /></a>So I headed out with my ultimate destination of the market, assuming I'd
just take it slow and enjoy the view along the way. As it turns out, I also
just so happened to pass Chinatown on the way. I had read about their Chinatown
and considered visiting but didn't think it was worth my time to go out of my
way to get there (Chinatown is Chinatown is Chinatown, no?) but, since it was
literally right here in front of me, no reason to not go in. This one was
nicer/cleaner/less smelly than most I've been to but, as it turns out, I'm
pretty sure they do all indeed sell exactly the same things. It's amazing, no
matter what country you're in or what continent you're on, every single
Chinatown has the same chintzy, cheesy stuff. There must be some global
Chinatown wholesaler out there that they're all required by law to buy their
items from. Either way, I was very glad I stumbled on it.<o:p></o:p><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZBgTTkzMItWmMP3bZZoPRLZo6XQtEXBTHWxN-2ibG3A79oRfV8AwQ09Buwj9TPq40K8g-_orhlB7VHWF38TcuNHNzyppIHd7VHAmNz8Otuls3MqJd8cbMcfqpJoq1GOC42ovOTK4jsGpE/s1600/P1080695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZBgTTkzMItWmMP3bZZoPRLZo6XQtEXBTHWxN-2ibG3A79oRfV8AwQ09Buwj9TPq40K8g-_orhlB7VHWF38TcuNHNzyppIHd7VHAmNz8Otuls3MqJd8cbMcfqpJoq1GOC42ovOTK4jsGpE/s320/P1080695.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
I eventually found my way to the market, and it didn’t disappoint. I had
planned to (hopefully) get all of my Christmas shopping done while there but,
as it turned out, I just wasn’t in the mood. I’m not a shopper and, in fact, I
despise shopping. So it’s something that I can only muster the energy to do
when absolutely necessary and, even then, I have to really be in the mood, to
wait for the ever elusive motivation to strike. It did not strike today. But I
managed to knock two gifts off my list, so that was something. The market was
cool and had some neat, locally made things in it but I started to notice that
many of the stands had the same things and, more than that, they were way overpriced
as this was defintely a tourist market and not a local market. It was time to
move on. (As a bonus, I overheard a father and daughter from Spain talking in
the market area and just couldn’t stop myself from striking up a conversation
with them. An unexpectedly cool conversation in Spanish with peeps from my
favorite place in the world. Score!)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNQM1NB3w8H1hecs068GhOBZfPGrTvEhxteJPvfiYaMfEhK3gzlNBLPp8qVll8ao6JumD-z9CRhdKy0Bjt9u2IQ6sDwIhtPAgiFs2QgMqMMdFo4V-OsCWDPKR2rZA3XfZZvNYYY-9DxsY/s1600/P1080694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNQM1NB3w8H1hecs068GhOBZfPGrTvEhxteJPvfiYaMfEhK3gzlNBLPp8qVll8ao6JumD-z9CRhdKy0Bjt9u2IQ6sDwIhtPAgiFs2QgMqMMdFo4V-OsCWDPKR2rZA3XfZZvNYYY-9DxsY/s320/P1080694.JPG" width="240" /></a><o:p></o:p><br />
More wandering. I turned off my GPS and decided to do what I do best: wander
aimlessly. It didn’t take long until it paid off. I had noticed that on a lot
of the pictures of Kuala Lumpur I’d seen there was always a massive, beautiful
Middle Eastern looking building among them. I didn’t bother to investigate it
but then, suddenly, there it was in front of me. Aimless wandering score! Turns
out it is the Sultan Abdul Samad Building, built in 1897 and which now houses the federal and the high courts of Malaysia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it
was, in fact, beautiful. <o:p></o:p><br />
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Kuala Lumpur is a really interesting city in that it houses so many
different cultures. It’s almost a bit bizarre as it’s easy to sometimes have to
remind yourself exactly which continent it is you’re on. One minute you’d swear
you’re in Asia, the next you’re sure it’s the Middle East and then another few
steps away you have no doubt you’re in India. I dig it. Turns out that 50% of
the population is Malay, …. Chinese, …. Indian, ….. Muslim. I dig it. Not only
do I love the cultural diversity, but it’s like getting three trips in one!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTJLORQRMRN9E86unx071KcAW89kGzYte-V9TysuZZwoHVNLPOVIRQtCZBv5FI6gXlb6yFzpqB3R3pBISynwCA8y0IEVxdNp3N3ohYz-NnsUsbKHdm9OoKMzGwoeGh4KMzMqFZ_UagCVi/s1600/P1080693.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTJLORQRMRN9E86unx071KcAW89kGzYte-V9TysuZZwoHVNLPOVIRQtCZBv5FI6gXlb6yFzpqB3R3pBISynwCA8y0IEVxdNp3N3ohYz-NnsUsbKHdm9OoKMzGwoeGh4KMzMqFZ_UagCVi/s320/P1080693.JPG" width="320" /></a>My wanderings continued for a while through the Arabic section I was in and
then I slowly (always slowly) started making my way back to the hotel. It was,
as has become my pattern, time for my evening shower/cool-off/recharge. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-IRu8Lj_kA3uc50a_sWDHTUWmvZ672Yp8S9n1wmvmLWIfBe6Ym82l7Zl_KpQFGPkNXb2wfblqS6dztV6CVA59wNYXM2zOgXZkrrX3G8lOoKO6uw4OXA-Eygq-DJL_QpkeBvsBSBZQ_4B/s1600/P1080698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-IRu8Lj_kA3uc50a_sWDHTUWmvZ672Yp8S9n1wmvmLWIfBe6Ym82l7Zl_KpQFGPkNXb2wfblqS6dztV6CVA59wNYXM2zOgXZkrrX3G8lOoKO6uw4OXA-Eygq-DJL_QpkeBvsBSBZQ_4B/s320/P1080698.JPG" width="320" /></a>Freshly clean and cool, I headed over to the section of town I’d stumbled
upon yesterday where I’d seen a whole street lined with inexpensive Chinese massage
parlors. This is one of my favorite things about traveling. If I were rich,
massage would be something I would spend obscene amounts of money on. Not only
does it feel amazing, but I really believe it’s just super good for you
overall. So the fact that I can get 10-15 massages here for what I would pay
for one back home makes it a no-brainer. Tonight I opted for the foot
reflexology. I was never a believer until Singapore a few years ago but I’m now
devout. This one didn’t hold a candle to that one (to this day I could still
find that guy’s exact little shop in Singapore as it burned such an indelible
memory in my brain) but it was good nonetheless. A young guy in the chair next
to me was super eager to practice his English so we chatted it up the whole
time. So it didn’t end up being one of those shut-out-the-world relaxing massages but, hey, someone
was rubbing my feet for a whole hour so who am I to complain?<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNsmiOuWoFdC0SFfKtGkxKqfOV8eGWvSdtd7vsaSe8O15rURBKdwh2zywzE5os0bcLI28szC9dsEff6OlxS8K4F0KirrAgWtVY48ok0TqybMk1wqByBrbp6lcCx7WBPD-b8oyXvRk0Wic/s1600/P1080701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNsmiOuWoFdC0SFfKtGkxKqfOV8eGWvSdtd7vsaSe8O15rURBKdwh2zywzE5os0bcLI28szC9dsEff6OlxS8K4F0KirrAgWtVY48ok0TqybMk1wqByBrbp6lcCx7WBPD-b8oyXvRk0Wic/s320/P1080701.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The Sultan Abdul Samad Building</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>I really wanted to know just what a Prosperity</em><br />
<em>Meal entails, but not enough to</em><br />
<em>actually try one.</em></td></tr>
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Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-10432855980346462792013-11-30T23:29:00.000-03:002013-12-04T07:42:45.529-03:00I Heart Kuala Lumpur<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_-U3kL6Uv6_wSTSYMy8a2J4LYiMpwQAB93Sw9Wo72ktX03YITfzHWkfA4qj6rggzzuLmV5uBj7Z0C6saMIu50fjuk8_I2VD36EWgcHSSzSaUAJl43zC0NQsNFrtxAya9q4ij_4pLGohL/s1600/P1080668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_-U3kL6Uv6_wSTSYMy8a2J4LYiMpwQAB93Sw9Wo72ktX03YITfzHWkfA4qj6rggzzuLmV5uBj7Z0C6saMIu50fjuk8_I2VD36EWgcHSSzSaUAJl43zC0NQsNFrtxAya9q4ij_4pLGohL/s320/P1080668.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The infamous Petronas Towers</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So it turns out that my initial impression of Kuala Lumpur wasn't just a knee-jerk reaction to being relieved to be out of Manila but that I really DO love this city. Whew!<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKuo2_p_8X08coGZ5bZDl3s5SPXDpgQlBQ7NVuqqb4KeszEl_JJfo4mA8c49bPRrRPnu1r86W5I8Y-jBU8-a4fJkouLk60_mOvIMPZq1GMOpv5DqbQWIPxj9ZFb0vlEKZD_Rzxjhr_Tfa/s1600/P1080661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKuo2_p_8X08coGZ5bZDl3s5SPXDpgQlBQ7NVuqqb4KeszEl_JJfo4mA8c49bPRrRPnu1r86W5I8Y-jBU8-a4fJkouLk60_mOvIMPZq1GMOpv5DqbQWIPxj9ZFb0vlEKZD_Rzxjhr_Tfa/s320/P1080661.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Inside the luxury mall at the base of the towers.</em><br />
<em>And this is just a TINY little part of the</em><br />
<em>structure. It's pretty incredible.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The first thing I noticed upon arriving yesterday was that I saw more white people within five minutes here than I did in five days in Manila. Literally. So I could immediately tell I would blend in more and could make my way around less conspicuously, which was a nice reprieve. So today I took full advantage of my total anonymity and did what I do best while in a new place: I walked. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMfdPnT8hdUZymcpw5odPJaV2-ojyz1caT7NJ9eEUS5hyjw_N0xyaLtEcNMJyvw9-idYVHdko08MkCPLxwvEU5NrYuBVt4ovQPjjUIzPNVvvsiQ-_E46aDOdRD4TejxVBXXrSTe3jlbLS/s1600/P1080663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMfdPnT8hdUZymcpw5odPJaV2-ojyz1caT7NJ9eEUS5hyjw_N0xyaLtEcNMJyvw9-idYVHdko08MkCPLxwvEU5NrYuBVt4ovQPjjUIzPNVvvsiQ-_E46aDOdRD4TejxVBXXrSTe3jlbLS/s320/P1080663.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Cold Drink of the Day #1. I don't actually </em><br />
<em>know what it was, and it wasn't very good,</em><br />
<em>but it was cold and cold is good here.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My first destination was, you guessed it, Petronas Towers. You've surely seen the images of it, the two enormous twin towers that are joined by a walkway about halfway up. At the time they were built, they were the world's tallest building, a record they held for 6 years (until Taiwan totally showed them up). They're still the world's tallest twin building but, let's be honest, that's not nearly as impressive. Either way, they ARE impressive both in height and sheer overall magnitude. <br />
<br />
By the time I got there (only about a 15-20 minute walk), I was, as is usual for me now, dripping with sweat. So, despite me not being even a little bit of a shopper, I was super grateful for the very upscale mall that is situated at the base of the towers. Mostly, I was glad for the AC and the cold drinks in the mall. I drink a lot of cold drinks these days. It is amazing just how much sweat one gal can produce in a single day, as it turns out. I've been hot places before, I've been humid places before, I have NEVER been to such a stiflingly hot and humid place before. It's kicking my butt. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ErKx9fz-vgwImVQMIxORkxzXEcMzA4JrugWHWtrYaXEnaVcHsXuD_Vaugr1Ey_3NN3kqMyqxyI30rjtNiYuiIvwrsfETBeS9pqhYR5KwG44G-Xey1cHdt_4Eyth1kG3sHpWGVCyvpgqu/s1600/P1080667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ErKx9fz-vgwImVQMIxORkxzXEcMzA4JrugWHWtrYaXEnaVcHsXuD_Vaugr1Ey_3NN3kqMyqxyI30rjtNiYuiIvwrsfETBeS9pqhYR5KwG44G-Xey1cHdt_4Eyth1kG3sHpWGVCyvpgqu/s320/P1080667.JPG" width="320" /></a>But I refuse to let it keep me from doing what I want to do so I keep pressing on. I have, however, figured out a pretty good system. I don't even bother taking a shower in the am before leaving (gross, I know, but there really is NO point) and I head out to do what I want to do. Then I head back to the hotel around dinner time to cool off/refresh/shower/change before heading back out in the evening to enjoy the "cooler" temps. Pretty genius, I have to say.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmo-uqmUNC67_cL8MeKNhgMunOUYxEcGOLHpwVdR_OmxLuIulOe73sdhpmYVg6muALjY0kE0hr81_WrJZEZ-7hqYVCs1r4ri9oZM-T1mJjqbZhrFQGlCa3WoOVC9U7Tr7XwYGn-Iu9TpOT/s1600/P1080669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmo-uqmUNC67_cL8MeKNhgMunOUYxEcGOLHpwVdR_OmxLuIulOe73sdhpmYVg6muALjY0kE0hr81_WrJZEZ-7hqYVCs1r4ri9oZM-T1mJjqbZhrFQGlCa3WoOVC9U7Tr7XwYGn-Iu9TpOT/s320/P1080669.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The Bukit Bintang district, my home in </em><br />
<em>Kuala Lumpur</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Tonight my outing was to simply enjoy the area my hotel is in. Turns out I scored big-time and am located in an excellent spot, right in the heart of one of the most popular areas of the city: Bukit Bintang. It's known for being the shopping and entertainment district of the city and when you walk out at night, it's slightly reminiscent of NY's Times Square. It was really nice to be in a place where I felt so safe and totally comfortable walking around outside in a place bustling with people and activity. I love that, I love being in places that thrive at night. That being said, it also helps that there is a bubble tea stand located there. Because, as we all know, you can never go wrong if bubble tea is involved.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDlJdZfjHfI6K7zl9FtZrv9Mmzg43opoP_3QqgwgYelpegCHxRd6Np8aaQkahYnutuJWAn7tOhTnpSUaMKz7ElRvdklyVw6cCZ0CHOwSwaAmkbABx0z7VriMko8aejj4CnvEsJKRpoAJH/s1600/P1080674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDlJdZfjHfI6K7zl9FtZrv9Mmzg43opoP_3QqgwgYelpegCHxRd6Np8aaQkahYnutuJWAn7tOhTnpSUaMKz7ElRvdklyVw6cCZ0CHOwSwaAmkbABx0z7VriMko8aejj4CnvEsJKRpoAJH/s320/P1080674.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHdo1_INWlcvvItVN9WUJYeo9E62Cs6mx-vcDF-wXKZRrblIGFRvmwG2InOmc2_2ylgDhElxqOvYpdsw2mbr5RyK_7LkpLH8Lyt3cFOwWswhswDaq24qjzcZEOuiWoOyXtHAUfhdSusnwd/s1600/P1080675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHdo1_INWlcvvItVN9WUJYeo9E62Cs6mx-vcDF-wXKZRrblIGFRvmwG2InOmc2_2ylgDhElxqOvYpdsw2mbr5RyK_7LkpLH8Lyt3cFOwWswhswDaq24qjzcZEOuiWoOyXtHAUfhdSusnwd/s320/P1080675.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWbUIS9V4MdtLhaLJVSGdWU7ME3vybL9aGZyklnWPA9pKGRKpODDDyDS_aWgUZoOkXKBc6MjRMzT4lWLwP9gIPKjusA1ADRLd5YbpeuDjhMPtBghWMULtQp-c2z7C2RoJGnWDAUGvPM-I/s1600/P1080679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWbUIS9V4MdtLhaLJVSGdWU7ME3vybL9aGZyklnWPA9pKGRKpODDDyDS_aWgUZoOkXKBc6MjRMzT4lWLwP9gIPKjusA1ADRLd5YbpeuDjhMPtBghWMULtQp-c2z7C2RoJGnWDAUGvPM-I/s320/P1080679.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Best shoes I've seen so far on this whole trip. Oh, how I </em><br />
<em>wish this picture did them even a little bit of justice.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-60139291460112266402013-11-29T23:35:00.000-03:002013-12-01T00:36:06.143-03:00Kuala Lumpur, Baby!I have to confess, by the time my departure from Manila was approaching, I could not get out of there fast enough. While I loved the people, I just did not like much about the city and was ready to beat it out of there. So the fact that getting out became such a hassle in and of itself didn't help me to leave it with the fondest of memories.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVguxgFaCYpWd2fG9ToavTwGADo5tVgDSqhq7I_VcGX762V4OrbRBg0f_yMdFKmz8uywn_YcC87izXA7PbmiPuRlbIh3WWvAfTNvG7VUOQ69g8lYdp_2-0txVj2VLnGIct_8MrlPpqRD7/s1600/P1080659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVguxgFaCYpWd2fG9ToavTwGADo5tVgDSqhq7I_VcGX762V4OrbRBg0f_yMdFKmz8uywn_YcC87izXA7PbmiPuRlbIh3WWvAfTNvG7VUOQ69g8lYdp_2-0txVj2VLnGIct_8MrlPpqRD7/s320/P1080659.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>This picture doesn't even begin to do justice to the chaotic</em><br />
<em>scene that was leaving Manila. You can see the check-in sign</em><br />
<em>in the front, kind of make out the blue little booth on the left</em><br />
<em>where you pay your exit tax and see the Immigration sign</em><br />
<em>on the far end. This was right before I'd finally made it to </em><br />
<em>check-in so there weren't many people in front of me and</em><br />
<em>you unfortunately lose the sense of "people crush".</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I don't know why I should have been surprised but the airport departure procedure was one of the most chaotic I have ever seen. I've traveled to a lot of countries, I've been to a lot of airports and I've passed through an awful lot of immigration desks but never anything like this. <br />
<br />
The first thing I noticed was when the taxi pulled up to the airport, I was SURE he had taken me to the wrong place. This was not the airport I had arrived in. Turns out they have different terminals for different things, but not terminals like we think of, terminals as in each is essentially its own little airport. And apparently the flight I was on flew out of this tiny little one seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Okay, no biggie, I thought. <br />
<br />
Until I walked in the front door. It was one long room, approximately 100-150 feet in length and no more than 25 across. The first thing you do is put your bag through "security", which technically has both a luggage belt and a metal detector although I can't see that either serves any real purpose. When I walked through the metal detector, it went off immediately but the guy just gave me an unconcerned look and waved me through anyhow. Now I felt really safe. Okay, no biggie, I thought.<br />
<br />
Until I really started paying attention to what lay ahead of me. I realized that EVERYTHING was in this one small, hot, oppressively crowded room. Everything: "security", check-in, airport tax station and immigration. For all the airlines. For all the passengers. Here, in this one room. Okay, no biggie, I thought.<br />
<br />
Until I got through "security" and realize that the mass of people I was standing in was actually the check-in line. No different lines for different airlines or different flights but one big, massive, jumbled line. And it wasn't moving. At all. I stood there for about 15 minutes, unmoving (and unable to move) when I started getting nervous. I had arrived a solid 2 hours early but now, as I was really taking in the non-moving scene around me, I was starting to get nervous. There were about 75 people in line and TWO people working at checking them in. And they were working very, veeery slowly. I struck up a conversation with an Australian girl near me and she was as staggered by what she was witnessing as I was. It took at least 45 minutes just to move the 20 or so feet that the check-in line covered. By the time I got there, the oppressive heat was starting to hit. Okay, no biggie, I thought.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsjzBLEmTPJUW2pco2y_tgYg4pZcW9MK1-sA26SiLUNHquYot0aBSJdZP7CRj4L1gA8OQJeisFPGjJUDvpcuF_dId3eNwv_9V_l9DD5-8cf0sUEFbIadm4t0E42MQwssf3NmH6CU1zlCH2/s1600/KL2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsjzBLEmTPJUW2pco2y_tgYg4pZcW9MK1-sA26SiLUNHquYot0aBSJdZP7CRj4L1gA8OQJeisFPGjJUDvpcuF_dId3eNwv_9V_l9DD5-8cf0sUEFbIadm4t0E42MQwssf3NmH6CU1zlCH2/s1600/KL2.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Kuala Lumpur, my home for the next 4 days</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Until I finally got checked in. And then I saw that there was a little booth off to one side where you had to pay your "exit tax". Awesome, hadn't planned on that and had spent down to my LAST peso with the cab (up until that point I had actually been pretty impressed with just how well I had planned it out!). I didn't have a peso to my name and I suddenly need 550 of them. Gulp. But that worry almost came second to the concern over how I was ever going to even get to the ONE window to pay it (or attempt to beg/plead/cry my way out of it). I hadn't thought it possible, but the section after check-in and before immigration, the place where you pay the exit fee was even more cramped and congested and chaotic and hot than the other. There wasn't even a hint of a line and all you could do was push against everyone else to get up to the little booth to pay your money. Chaos, pure and total chaos. And it didn't help that it was 4:30 in the morning and it was hot and humid and at any given point about 5 people were touching me. My patience was running out. But I fought my way to the window and, miracle of miracles, they accepted credit cards. Whew! Great, making progress, I thought! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVLKQUawyNA4Hz_p68ZTY9LYhtdpUWERE4DSjcxf2PGW-IOE_Lgj7wOf70aBtc9g8BPTdMwtkbHpX92LGpa_pIkwLacbYeiow1klevpe2tq5TCn2V4hbp6raZHXOGymrTGIYrW719OrhI/s1600/KL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVLKQUawyNA4Hz_p68ZTY9LYhtdpUWERE4DSjcxf2PGW-IOE_Lgj7wOf70aBtc9g8BPTdMwtkbHpX92LGpa_pIkwLacbYeiow1klevpe2tq5TCn2V4hbp6raZHXOGymrTGIYrW719OrhI/s1600/KL.jpg" /></a>And then I realize that, contrary to logical belief, things started going even SLOWER after that. Once you paid, there was literally nowhere to go, nowhere to move as the crush of people was just so insane. There were two lanes for immigration and they inconceivably moved even slower than anything previous. By this point me and the Aussie girl were fast friends and it helped to have at least one other person there who I could commiserate with. You reached a point where it was just SO insane that all you could do was laugh. Another 45 minutes waiting there, the whole time with the girl behind me either actively pressed up against me or bumping into me. My patience was definitely wearing thin. But... I made it! Okay, I made it, I thought! And then.<br />
<br />
I had to pass through another bag inspection when I got to the "gate" (which was one big sealed-off room that everyone for all flights was corralled into, kind of like trapped animals) and they started taking some of my things. At this point, I was so aggravated and so hot and so tired that I didn't care and couldn't even muster up much more than a head nod when they told me what they wouldn't allow to pass. All told, to move approximately 150 feet from check-in to immigration took me nearly an hour and 45 minutes. But okay, I made it, I thought! <br />
<br />
And then my flight was delayed. Sigh. And then I gave up. <br />
<br />
All that to say that getting to Kuala Lumpur this morning was a sweet relief and I instantly loved it. Maybe it was just such a relief to be out of Manila that anything would seem like paradise in comparison. Or maybe, just maybe, this city really is as cool as I anticipate it will be and I will love it here. Yeah, I think that's it.Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-23523471085958982632013-11-28T22:55:00.000-03:002013-11-29T23:21:01.382-03:00Chilla in Manila<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3S9t9TdW3eb5Bf8_tg_L4d4Fo-ML30wOOAThckSaI0zxlJLUBop4Hf1fE7a88-iThM4vK28qeLUzVBzKMXekTB3G7E5vlRDuxBSuvzoj_PmcCArFXrSEqr9PLDQXI8gLnNKXmSivd-Ab/s1600/P1080625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3S9t9TdW3eb5Bf8_tg_L4d4Fo-ML30wOOAThckSaI0zxlJLUBop4Hf1fE7a88-iThM4vK28qeLUzVBzKMXekTB3G7E5vlRDuxBSuvzoj_PmcCArFXrSEqr9PLDQXI8gLnNKXmSivd-Ab/s320/P1080625.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Manila Bay fishermen</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Haven't written much the past few days because, well, there hasn't been much to write. Manila is humid, humid, humid and I can't walk more than 5 minutes before being covered in sweat, which tends to sap one's motivation to be out conquering a place. I've kind of just gotten used to it, frankly, and hardly even notice anymore when I'm glistening head to toe, but twice I have walked into coffee shops to get a cold drink and when I got up to the register, before even saying a word, the worker just handed me a bunch of paper towels. Oh yes, it's very attractive. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawDIOHXQSu71_S6f_cOAmtBk5FV6lKq7xEA_ZFUafH9PjJJVLL6HAUHhOfwFWk1AYkaVXbJo70NUw8kpkmIlj8ERL3qPgE-KzKRvYX8qi0S6TOfP4jSy8hMf9jKo1it6OLv6CSf6QJngZ/s1600/P1080622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawDIOHXQSu71_S6f_cOAmtBk5FV6lKq7xEA_ZFUafH9PjJJVLL6HAUHhOfwFWk1AYkaVXbJo70NUw8kpkmIlj8ERL3qPgE-KzKRvYX8qi0S6TOfP4jSy8hMf9jKo1it6OLv6CSf6QJngZ/s320/P1080622.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>This guy was washing his laundry.</em></td></tr>
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So I've been going slow and taking it easy. I walk slowly and I take lots of drink breaks and I don't try to cram in as much as I would normally. One whole day consisted of me sauntering along the bay walk and meandering down around the pier area, about a mile in each direction. It was nice and I got to talk to lots of people and I got to drink lots of iced coffees along the way. And that was that day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzlWVW-3XeeqMjZz5qeUFhbEFpVYOWaFcdLdBkGVGjN1XPUuKPVuzNGfxhmc2L6yBMK4qWnmcpl0jKLvatKnQ9Rv7lBBJt983vUuu28ZNpMF5f20_0OxvIwwukXsukF_dWeBboNtqr0aA8/s1600/P1080628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzlWVW-3XeeqMjZz5qeUFhbEFpVYOWaFcdLdBkGVGjN1XPUuKPVuzNGfxhmc2L6yBMK4qWnmcpl0jKLvatKnQ9Rv7lBBJt983vUuu28ZNpMF5f20_0OxvIwwukXsukF_dWeBboNtqr0aA8/s320/P1080628.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>One of the nicer views of Manila that I saw. Hard to reconcile</em><br />
<em>that if you walk one block into town, it is a completely </em><br />
<em>different world.</em></td></tr>
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Another day consisted of me going to the big market area, Divisoria. It's a street market that covers about 50 blocks (I'm totally guessing) and goes up and down streets and in and out of tiny alleys and seems never-ending and as if it's totally impossible to see it all. The nice thing about it is that it's a market for the locals, not a tourist thing (although I don't really think this city has any tourist things), so the merchants don't bother you, no one is harassing you to buy things as they're seemingly not really that interested in your business. Which was quite nice to just be able to walk around and look at things and not feel pressured constantly as has happened in other countries, which left me feeling like I couldn't look at anything. Of course, it didn't stop people from staring as I think I may have stood out there even more than anywhere else in the city as the market is set in a particularly dodgy and run-down end of town and clearly doesn't attract outsiders (I saw exactly one other white person my whole time there). It's one of the most chaotic market scenes I've ever been witness to and, having been to India, that's saying something. The filth and trash and noise and foul air and car fumes and people peeing in the street and raw meat/fish laying out in the baking sun and tens of thousands of people crushed together and cars/trucks running through the middle of the whole thing all made for quite the assault on every one of the 5 senses. It was actually one of the cooler things I did in Manila!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjm402Eq7dpBrl2sUlLUleAwHdA3jwIuLll6lWuy4pvT7Zd2RMOvRJ56nWmcRofsgIK2DO5JgJCKJvXVCQa8-ZGH8T9buao7gyzbbRIrMQuPq5JQQ31cpUurMAeGfTtGfh3IS_HkI_qY9L/s1600/P1080629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjm402Eq7dpBrl2sUlLUleAwHdA3jwIuLll6lWuy4pvT7Zd2RMOvRJ56nWmcRofsgIK2DO5JgJCKJvXVCQa8-ZGH8T9buao7gyzbbRIrMQuPq5JQQ31cpUurMAeGfTtGfh3IS_HkI_qY9L/s320/P1080629.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The funny part of this picture is that, even though you can't</em><br />
<em>make it out, the sign posted on that fence reads </em><br />
<em>"No Fishing </em><em>This Area". Yep, the sign in the middle </em><br />
<em>of </em><em>all of those </em><em>guys fishing. </em></td></tr>
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Other than that, not much to report. Manila has not been a favorite and I'm ready to leave tomorrow (three days here would have been more than sufficient). But I'll leave you with a few random items/experiences I've garnered along the way:<br />
<br />
1. They use paper straws here. Which, if you think about it, makes no sense. Roll up a piece of paper and then suck something wet up through it and tell me what happens. Yep.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE8BYC3HErbjb9ub87rIBFB_sy3IdLPIWWk7PLOL9-5cgaAmFF8FqMtnkJATCPkOCE3HZN276QKMc48jJk08VyKB_WPXUWm1hryHZ-1-o85LKxboe5zekdBwCQkVSdnLCOpFmiDcbS41pa/s1600/P1080631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE8BYC3HErbjb9ub87rIBFB_sy3IdLPIWWk7PLOL9-5cgaAmFF8FqMtnkJATCPkOCE3HZN276QKMc48jJk08VyKB_WPXUWm1hryHZ-1-o85LKxboe5zekdBwCQkVSdnLCOpFmiDcbS41pa/s320/P1080631.JPG" width="320" /></a>2. I noticed immediately that Manila seemingly has no crossing signs at intersections (I did see one but it was broken... of course). There is no system, you just go for it. On my first day, still playing the good American and waiting for some sort of obvious sign as to when I could cross a multi-lane road, an old guy saw me, came over and grabbed my arm and led me right out into the middle of the street, him holding up his hand to cars and them stopping along the way until we reached the other side. And that is the way it's done here. You wait for the tiniest of pauses in traffic, hold your breath, close your eyes and go for it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUz1ZV_a5raePazbzuTyGdp9pQxZMf-shuaTECPM6FgWVlQtYABCuT_JbVDhPkVn3z0YqX2yCy5aJjUHLAwB1wZfhTSX5C_wRr0h8igenlUleOmmAUpJcTGLN3Czszq4Rvt75Zc9iGhSsJ/s1600/P1080632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUz1ZV_a5raePazbzuTyGdp9pQxZMf-shuaTECPM6FgWVlQtYABCuT_JbVDhPkVn3z0YqX2yCy5aJjUHLAwB1wZfhTSX5C_wRr0h8igenlUleOmmAUpJcTGLN3Czszq4Rvt75Zc9iGhSsJ/s320/P1080632.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The baywalk </em></td></tr>
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3. Poverty is rampant here and I'm sure not many people can afford to buy a whole pack of cigarettes. Which is why it's brilliant that the street vendors will allow you to buy just one at a time. They also keep a lighter on a string on the cart that the customers can use. Genius!<br />
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4. I was sitting outside my hotel one day and saw some boys across the street picking on a much littler kid who was crying. A guy who had been sitting near me got up and crossed the street and yelled at the older boys. I didn't understand what he said but it must have worked and they suddenly seemed very ashamed and helped the little kid up. I love that stuff, how adults in other countries still totally rule and, even when it's a complete stranger, the younger people totally respect them and do as they're told. America, take note.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xG2VWpdLZEyF8XOtCB4bgPwzHLdbIT-2EQxAxHb5RaCnWdXjf9Kh8WPAdGbi_XJ29IgntmxQTw3J9Ri2PMfaI5gAjUY8bGMu9wzNIAPkslFjPBJQPsIAEdD-aaaIXMR-Dji6UmuxJw-5/s1600/P1080638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xG2VWpdLZEyF8XOtCB4bgPwzHLdbIT-2EQxAxHb5RaCnWdXjf9Kh8WPAdGbi_XJ29IgntmxQTw3J9Ri2PMfaI5gAjUY8bGMu9wzNIAPkslFjPBJQPsIAEdD-aaaIXMR-Dji6UmuxJw-5/s320/P1080638.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>And just one block in from the bay area, this is what </em><br />
<em>Manila </em><em>really looks like.</em></td></tr>
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5. On my last day I stopped into a tiny little café to have some dinner. As it was totally packed, I was shown to a random chair that was open at someone's table. I said that was alright, I would just take the food with me but they insisted so I got plunked down with a whole group of strangers, whether they liked it or not. I ate fast. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZwJ5-FerrXHMZB6Rb4aLiLQQwrNTMZvkv96M0bWIbz-jHC07Z7gJQXtQhpwZ0IHnbbcwTHQhB8dVt8qiGdTz32W0rVATEcxQ-eHl4hWzLERb93WPuWSRtymGT9YPe36sXMamOThMxHwzB/s1600/P1080639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZwJ5-FerrXHMZB6Rb4aLiLQQwrNTMZvkv96M0bWIbz-jHC07Z7gJQXtQhpwZ0IHnbbcwTHQhB8dVt8qiGdTz32W0rVATEcxQ-eHl4hWzLERb93WPuWSRtymGT9YPe36sXMamOThMxHwzB/s320/P1080639.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
6. Normally in other countries, there always seems to be an over-abundance of stray dogs roaming the streets. Always, without fail. But here there are cats. And lots of them. I didn't see one stray dog but I saw hundreds of stray cats. Odd.<br />
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7. I have seen VERY few other white people here, as in less than 20 total in 5 whole days here. However, the majority of the ones I saw were white guys who are with Filipino women. And my sense is that these aren't the kind of men who are real popular with the ladies back home. But I guess that here they're pretty big stuff (someone told me that on $1,000 a month you can live like a "princess" in the Philippines). Guess money can replace good looks, eh?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuwcbSFbjVduWpDlTe46TmtMKete9L23I4e6brjQ4zglDEnxV2qIqeRvwfHu8Q4tkCaQFHB81lX0D0ItWqjXm0GRWq8GR2J6aUAkDmcxhz_TmxUxdU4QPCMF-GNoDV1vp_RAUTX_v4Pn5/s1600/P1080640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuwcbSFbjVduWpDlTe46TmtMKete9L23I4e6brjQ4zglDEnxV2qIqeRvwfHu8Q4tkCaQFHB81lX0D0ItWqjXm0GRWq8GR2J6aUAkDmcxhz_TmxUxdU4QPCMF-GNoDV1vp_RAUTX_v4Pn5/s320/P1080640.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xE4RvMF0GgW3YjhXlcegKpzatSuhwQHtw98_SEWU3JUAJG_qfZeblcKpEX3tu4rA2bn_ZccI9p7LwzseiE6cHy9dlDxeGRJArl8s1l9qBsiXVZQctt1ll0W8Wq9znzstOscZ4GHEDOnh/s1600/P1080644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xE4RvMF0GgW3YjhXlcegKpzatSuhwQHtw98_SEWU3JUAJG_qfZeblcKpEX3tu4rA2bn_ZccI9p7LwzseiE6cHy9dlDxeGRJArl8s1l9qBsiXVZQctt1ll0W8Wq9znzstOscZ4GHEDOnh/s320/P1080644.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The beginnings of Divisoria Market</em></td></tr>
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8. The day I went to the market, I got in a cab (the first I took while here but, having heard what a rough part of town it was in and that it was difficult to find, I thought it a good idea), knowing that it should cost about 100 pesos (a little more than $2 USD) for the trip. I asked the guy to turn on his meter and he assured me he would (with foreigners they'll often claim it doesn't work or try to charge you a flat fee that is exorbitantly higher than what they would charge a local). Fortunately, by this point I was acclimated enough to the city to know where I was and which way I should be heading as, when we left I noticed he was going south when we should have been going north. I pointed this out to him, assuming he was just trying to take the "long way around" to get more money out of me and wanting him to know that I knew what he was up to when he informed me he was taking me to a different market. Me: "I don't want to go to another market, I want to go to Divisoria.". Him: "But you'll like it better". Me: "But I don't want to go there." Him: "But it's better". Me: "But I don't want to go, I want you to turn around and go to Divisoria.". Him: "But I'll only charge you 300 pesos to get there!". When I insisted that I was going to Divisoria and would pay him no more than what the meter read, he kicked me out of the cab! So, yeah, that was a first.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtk_qG6P786WcEwOa0GQVIjVFQMz3P43d9JPffOkgttXWYY_MTHOaYu5jY9Wy6o634xYbK09tLqz0H-N1L4DQQwF_ceOwBW-5_9P3QCoDrNrb0en4iK7ZMUwd-tR__3PaIQjhAB_zy_3H/s1600/P1080649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtk_qG6P786WcEwOa0GQVIjVFQMz3P43d9JPffOkgttXWYY_MTHOaYu5jY9Wy6o634xYbK09tLqz0H-N1L4DQQwF_ceOwBW-5_9P3QCoDrNrb0en4iK7ZMUwd-tR__3PaIQjhAB_zy_3H/s320/P1080649.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJR5meuiKHSyODSKPnprZbdF8D-jeFFjNkWwhLAaMW2QGziDjkcVKOXZ1IlFbSS2Hsy1FDTsbu5NAxw-UP8mX5wllllU1Er_7bs7pzRIfjXLDQzaF_2Z7vTk6LO9hzRBdXSF3D0_Gbeo8Y/s1600/P1080650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJR5meuiKHSyODSKPnprZbdF8D-jeFFjNkWwhLAaMW2QGziDjkcVKOXZ1IlFbSS2Hsy1FDTsbu5NAxw-UP8mX5wllllU1Er_7bs7pzRIfjXLDQzaF_2Z7vTk6LO9hzRBdXSF3D0_Gbeo8Y/s320/P1080650.JPG" width="320" /></a>9. Speaking of cabs, when leaving the market, it was nearly impossible to find one that was free (considering it was a very poor section of town, not many cabs go there, I suppose). Some little boys asked me if I needed a cab, that they would get me one. I initially said no as I was sure I could get my own. But the longer I stood there (and the sweatier I got) and none would stop when they asked again I said yes and told them where I was going. I've gotta say, those littler buggers earned their tip! They ran and hailed and yelled and fought with cabbies and other people who were trying to jump in ahead of them and physically attached themselves to cars and jumped into the front seat and refused to get out and did a LOT of work to finally get one to pull over to pick me up. Not only did I tip them but I noticed the cab driver gives them a cut as well. Interesting system. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINIAdLWKU6pEhgBmebtfVKEvrziy2Vdl7aT5CSjybiMSFWmg2xT9YAZ9LJp8gluPuvmDlCJKgN_MWACQoSUqogzOdPZS8cD4FM2njO59fasDWmXdrWQTyCvDPQ9kLPW4J3QsU7RE5-_nR/s1600/P1080653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINIAdLWKU6pEhgBmebtfVKEvrziy2Vdl7aT5CSjybiMSFWmg2xT9YAZ9LJp8gluPuvmDlCJKgN_MWACQoSUqogzOdPZS8cD4FM2njO59fasDWmXdrWQTyCvDPQ9kLPW4J3QsU7RE5-_nR/s320/P1080653.JPG" width="320" /></a>10. I had read that Filipinos are very non-confrontational and will avoid using the word 'no' at all costs (it's not uncommon for them to shake their head 'no' but still say 'yes', just say they don't actually have to say the word). So I arrived expecting a meek culture and yet in other ways they're super bold. They'll stare without shame. They'll come up and take pictures of you without asking (although, really, I take pictures of them so I guess fair is fair). And with no lead-in, no 'hello' or anything else, they'll open conversations with what we would consider to be bold questions like "Why are you alone?", "Where is your husband?" and "Where are you going? Can I go with you?". But in the end, their smiles win you over. Pure, genuine smiles that exude warmth. You can't beat that.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiARcVFr88Ryh8u19Q00e4JU5rAS1V6q5WGiUkbBpZBjXtsAae5KLQiyuJsCsn_vi87Og0Z0DOjJGNdykgpiyp_UAr7P5n0V12GNRkTpNJIAPAAo7_flMsWfCO3dhyphenhyphenMfYQyRe1sm8EKbOAI/s1600/P1080654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiARcVFr88Ryh8u19Q00e4JU5rAS1V6q5WGiUkbBpZBjXtsAae5KLQiyuJsCsn_vi87Og0Z0DOjJGNdykgpiyp_UAr7P5n0V12GNRkTpNJIAPAAo7_flMsWfCO3dhyphenhyphenMfYQyRe1sm8EKbOAI/s320/P1080654.JPG" width="320" /></a>And with that, bed. I have yet another obscenely early wake-up call tomorrow (4 am!) to catch my next flight. Why, WHY, do discount airlines have such ungodly early flights?? Sigh. And zzzzzzz.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRECtPZwstFD2UtKngDcPkHTLqSqs6UzEGrcCGuRHJ02jCz85qpcS_l4mG77j4go4pYfzLgbzAarZTMy5S-gM78AP9BCzgjUk33QbyEOj5RqQt06p_OzGbYiDCDA_5P3VMZd7TceFsqX-/s1600/P1080655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRECtPZwstFD2UtKngDcPkHTLqSqs6UzEGrcCGuRHJ02jCz85qpcS_l4mG77j4go4pYfzLgbzAarZTMy5S-gM78AP9BCzgjUk33QbyEOj5RqQt06p_OzGbYiDCDA_5P3VMZd7TceFsqX-/s320/P1080655.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Why, yes, that IS a woman getting a pedicure on the </em><br />
<em>street in the middle of the market.</em></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FKLsROajpJluvSuZuCGELn5V_IDmqMdmA1TIbWb-cDRvmULfKl4fbOAMTpLU4bBz0NNQPGjfs8zNeP6tFJmeP_lPJCf8NWgLl9rqLj_sjXkoqdLcdEaKsYdURV3Xav23NyTZUo5z4hvq/s1600/P1080634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FKLsROajpJluvSuZuCGELn5V_IDmqMdmA1TIbWb-cDRvmULfKl4fbOAMTpLU4bBz0NNQPGjfs8zNeP6tFJmeP_lPJCf8NWgLl9rqLj_sjXkoqdLcdEaKsYdURV3Xav23NyTZUo5z4hvq/s320/P1080634.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>I don't think there is a bigger bubble tea fan</em><br />
<em>out there than me but rock salt and cheese</em><br />
<em>flavor bubble tea? Really?</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXG0BELMvQ6uXZT-wpaB-pLrqEMaJE3IP_o_YB8Yu_yCDA-5noDtZ5fGE61LIuQElwWD5FLXWhDdKWnrruF8lqFOE5eckV9vMwVSTCQwI2fI-rGI0ez6EFlQqc0fxvwr7GpWTyhNhiaIh/s1600/P1080658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXG0BELMvQ6uXZT-wpaB-pLrqEMaJE3IP_o_YB8Yu_yCDA-5noDtZ5fGE61LIuQElwWD5FLXWhDdKWnrruF8lqFOE5eckV9vMwVSTCQwI2fI-rGI0ez6EFlQqc0fxvwr7GpWTyhNhiaIh/s320/P1080658.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Naked little boys beating the heat in the fountain. Ah, the</em><br />
<em>simple joys of life.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-39944581021737840712013-11-25T23:13:00.000-03:002013-11-26T11:29:02.709-03:00What A Difference A Day Makes<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7fOLSD_BLWKob0Ons0WBl-BOFdWrlFeC2ziquoZxU7wYFeNGh2IB-YhG5OG8-3uDSUuPfDkVYUpmajjV1OgF75ARsGLqqCl49gwL2GglQ9ogjH-6IJ04KUKkY4kTrpQheDT2Qsxdw-3H/s1600/P1080589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7fOLSD_BLWKob0Ons0WBl-BOFdWrlFeC2ziquoZxU7wYFeNGh2IB-YhG5OG8-3uDSUuPfDkVYUpmajjV1OgF75ARsGLqqCl49gwL2GglQ9ogjH-6IJ04KUKkY4kTrpQheDT2Qsxdw-3H/s320/P1080589.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>One of the gates to the walled city</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Today I returned to my traveling roots: walking. And, in this case, walking and sweating. And lots of both. I've always felt that the best way to learn about a place is to hoof it - to see it, hear it, smell it, experience it from street level. And that I did.<br />
<br />
It's been quite a shock to go right from modern, clean, organized Seoul to chaotic, dirty, run-down Manila. Not to mention going from cold weather to tropical heat and humidity in the blink of an eye. As Manila came up pretty last minute (as almost everything does for me), I didn't really have any set expectations of it. But I somehow didn't expect it to be what it is. It was a day full of surprises.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8xujOURZF_EssLlJd2azNWbcLxzq1k0jJJToORZbyRgjOXmiNsGcoq4l7AizNZuQqNo3er2pnynXiZ7WlUt41tHbJpf9D6TUhV_bGld_U7bRPONvNp2h2p_I0lM9-_I3EFkpMfGE1u4W/s1600/P1080591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8xujOURZF_EssLlJd2azNWbcLxzq1k0jJJToORZbyRgjOXmiNsGcoq4l7AizNZuQqNo3er2pnynXiZ7WlUt41tHbJpf9D6TUhV_bGld_U7bRPONvNp2h2p_I0lM9-_I3EFkpMfGE1u4W/s320/P1080591.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
The first thing I noticed was how much people smile here. Having read up on Manila, I'd read much about the crime here and how cautious foreigners need to be so on my first outing I was, admittedly (and prudently), proceeding with caution. So many times I find when in a third world country that I struggle to find a balance between wanting to get involved with the locals, to trust them and talk to them, while at the same time wanting to remain leery and careful of not being taken advantage of. So when I started walking down the street and person after person after person was calling out to me ("Hello, Mama!"), I assumed they were just trying to sell me something. But then I noticed that all of the calls were accompanied by the most genuine smiles and enthusiastic waves. No way to resist that. The rest of the day the better part of my time was spent responding to them all with an equally genuine smile and a wave. The most amusing call of the day was "Hello, White Lady!". <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-F_P_wRcGvR4tcTL1Y3OSG-Dgy3yZINRmq4lmKo6yRZBhz8r6IPFvOfAm-26lvdRCIluJcB8ozr18nTMBr0iftJ74WJE6yaBqFAfZ48yN3TWl4NsvSS794J-cqKoFdUKYywnWfc7Yvmtu/s1600/P1080592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-F_P_wRcGvR4tcTL1Y3OSG-Dgy3yZINRmq4lmKo6yRZBhz8r6IPFvOfAm-26lvdRCIluJcB8ozr18nTMBr0iftJ74WJE6yaBqFAfZ48yN3TWl4NsvSS794J-cqKoFdUKYywnWfc7Yvmtu/s320/P1080592.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The famous Manila Cathedral... closed, grrr.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It's been a while since I've been somewhere that I stand out SO much (yep, I'm super white... and blonde, to boot) and it took an hour or two until I got back in that groove and got used to being blatantly stared at all the time, remembering that there's nothing I can do without being watched. But I quickly got the feeling that it was like back in India, where for the most part it was completely harmless and just genuine curiosity. And while I could recognize that it was harmless, I was also quickly reminded of the downsides to standing out as an oh-so-obvious foreigner: nearly every cab driver and/or carriage driver stopped and tried to get me to take a ride. And while they're pleasant about it, they can be relentless, following slowly alongside me as I walked for a block or two. Yeah, that gets a tad awkward. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeMjXFkMh1g8TVlYUXzOQwFpi1lO1B4FE9a_ZYyGJ402U61QkEV5EiRHXGsO3bYf2n1xcdikLY6WJkF2I9QvFTYi4NR9kzgq5Kjc0aLKpfp8Lp7057BGKaLluCKEPzTzXaHJtkZ2eZe3T/s1600/P1080593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeMjXFkMh1g8TVlYUXzOQwFpi1lO1B4FE9a_ZYyGJ402U61QkEV5EiRHXGsO3bYf2n1xcdikLY6WJkF2I9QvFTYi4NR9kzgq5Kjc0aLKpfp8Lp7057BGKaLluCKEPzTzXaHJtkZ2eZe3T/s320/P1080593.JPG" width="320" /></a>Just about the time I really started to let my guard down and decided the people were open and friendly and helpful and curious about the stranger among them, a guy started following me and asking me if I would give him my necklace. It was the only part of the day I felt at all uncomfortable. A reminder to maintain that balance of openness versus caution. Always such a struggle for me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7D6CXGxywVIfTeUEH1Eza2ImGiPg0Hu3IvZnaL67Su-Ne3WlUMHHZPVpc38h60S2SVDsDWs0SESt-X1Ae3xWtpogSOjRcgLqn9DXbGNeihsBJtn_gdhQLwNh-fDBJoWdPlSPh5EiMptxI/s1600/P1080595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7D6CXGxywVIfTeUEH1Eza2ImGiPg0Hu3IvZnaL67Su-Ne3WlUMHHZPVpc38h60S2SVDsDWs0SESt-X1Ae3xWtpogSOjRcgLqn9DXbGNeihsBJtn_gdhQLwNh-fDBJoWdPlSPh5EiMptxI/s320/P1080595.JPG" width="320" /></a>I made my way to Intramuros, the oldest and most historic part of the city, a "city within a city", a walled citadel built by the Spanish in 1571. Inside the ancient walls are plazas, monuments, public buildings, museums, ruins and, of course, famous churches. My primary destination and first stop was the Manila Cathedral... which was closed for renovations. Awesome. My second was Fort Santiago which is, you guessed it, an ancient fort. Since this part of the city was ruled by the Spanish for so many years, many of the Spanish names remain, which made me feel right at home. Truth be told, many times throughout the day, I actually had to remind myself that I was in Asia and not South America. Bizarro.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_3kJORQh9CKDDOzUijw27LQV1_DwZqBrAk3_Y6Vv0Qb0Vd72ZTB19w6UjlP06E4yiG1x1gU_k2_9DasVYLz4_nQv10zexcH0VcNTMoy5q74sHwpIt-y2jFfQaCL_hn78RrqiJm26BZCe/s1600/P1080597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_3kJORQh9CKDDOzUijw27LQV1_DwZqBrAk3_Y6Vv0Qb0Vd72ZTB19w6UjlP06E4yiG1x1gU_k2_9DasVYLz4_nQv10zexcH0VcNTMoy5q74sHwpIt-y2jFfQaCL_hn78RrqiJm26BZCe/s320/P1080597.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Fort Santiago's main gate</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
By this point in the day, I was sweating buckets and had to sit and chill over some fruit juice. While sitting there I was surrounded by tinny Christmas music and, once again, realized that when you grow up in a cold climate, it just does NOT add up to think about anything related to Christmas while sitting in a hot, steamy climate. Especially when actively dripping sweat. I also realized that there is no point at all in showering at the <strong><em>beginning</em></strong> of my day while here.<br />
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At the end of the day I decided I had just enough energy to walk to the bay and watch the sun go down. I found the one spot where no one else was around and plunked myself down for the show. Within 30 seconds a guy comes up to me and opens the conversation by asking "Why are you alone?". In the US, his question may have irked me; here it made me laugh as it was instantly obvious that he asked out of genuine curiosity as, really, why would a white girl be sitting there watching the sunset alone? We chatted for a few and then his son came over... and then some other people came over... and then some other people came over.... soon it was a regular old Filipino gathering.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjF3bVl7UdhTNyutMtbwd9X5AbjB4Uoz0Yjrh7STKNRuC-J3QX6dAQUytyuBphiqRuTZO7t5CdDUBwTJVUpbxwZErzI7v6g6AK-iE2hubAgwlAMtY4ZetzLKU6-63cuj5conBOIdCA4KF/s1600/P1080604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjF3bVl7UdhTNyutMtbwd9X5AbjB4Uoz0Yjrh7STKNRuC-J3QX6dAQUytyuBphiqRuTZO7t5CdDUBwTJVUpbxwZErzI7v6g6AK-iE2hubAgwlAMtY4ZetzLKU6-63cuj5conBOIdCA4KF/s320/P1080604.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqpYuofn64d-HqjJPQ3nNWzAIycUc6FeYxLLbkCLLmtCuRQHyAtxiCqrUbGZIlG9t1ovXjcddTXqF-382Tty41hUIMnnQITbm1z1AbubFwJGnqhAiic52u8e8F_BrMjplbbAcJ1ebqRbsh/s1600/P1080620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqpYuofn64d-HqjJPQ3nNWzAIycUc6FeYxLLbkCLLmtCuRQHyAtxiCqrUbGZIlG9t1ovXjcddTXqF-382Tty41hUIMnnQITbm1z1AbubFwJGnqhAiic52u8e8F_BrMjplbbAcJ1ebqRbsh/s320/P1080620.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Christopher and Diana. I swear they smiled the whole time</em><br />
<em>were talking!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was the most unexpected part of my day and yet the most enjoyable, the purest and most true. The two who sat the longest were Christopher and Diana, a down-on-their-luck couple who live on the streets (in fact, while I was there, I saw some members of a local church come around and give out sandwiches to them and the other homeless people in the area) but who couldn't have been nicer and, in true Filipino form, couldn't have had kinder or more ready smiles. <br />
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They told me a bit about their life, asked me a bit about mine and sat and watched the sunset with me. They couldn't get over my "bravery" in traveling by myself as a woman but also offered up their services to be my guides/bodyguards on any future trips I took in the area (they didn't want to be paid for it, just for me to buy their meals). They also told me about some scams to watch out for and told me to not trust anyone, even them. They said there are good people and bad people in the Philippines and that they themselves were a mix of good and bad, but that any bad they do is just for survival. It was both a heartbreaking conversation and an uplifting one. They didn't ask for anything from me, they didn't try to get me to give them money, they just shared a moment of their lives with me out of genuine kindness. It was the best moment of my whole trip so far. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FLnEHNMo46W_lmZNkmF3NyJaH6d4x4rJYzOHNRR3cMOEQnx8_Ysd_RA-EouQC981A4JGQpsAq6mLzT2EB-qpHoCRuRit8Qy9xTTWk9_vLitlWOCDYCXeTfIBEwEJZCrEAPnn9Wab4Ert/s1600/P1080602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FLnEHNMo46W_lmZNkmF3NyJaH6d4x4rJYzOHNRR3cMOEQnx8_Ysd_RA-EouQC981A4JGQpsAq6mLzT2EB-qpHoCRuRit8Qy9xTTWk9_vLitlWOCDYCXeTfIBEwEJZCrEAPnn9Wab4Ert/s320/P1080602.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Inside Fort Santiago</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd45m1IKniyttp3b-Wve62ZL3kcAYcxTyN5k6BCwpTfWnBJUvXrcNWOV-IVTTFtFklUgtDd8O0rFswUs0LCeXjgORegGME0njapS4-HAhnl6w0BVfDaSqnYzI0zUPHeFst9CgIf4QyDTJ/s1600/P1080603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd45m1IKniyttp3b-Wve62ZL3kcAYcxTyN5k6BCwpTfWnBJUvXrcNWOV-IVTTFtFklUgtDd8O0rFswUs0LCeXjgORegGME0njapS4-HAhnl6w0BVfDaSqnYzI0zUPHeFst9CgIf4QyDTJ/s320/P1080603.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Wait, which continent am I on again?</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNxnEAt6zSEKM_xrvGl1SeAakOXXAcjMW7rUE2_prMx7Lv8ygzhdnOLT8sg76KazohUpD37toBh1QDjBrUGUm4SkSlEwugkGiorGkvKx6ZxGBeKWpqYL8jdz_ZuVtSNKn9791JbbEoTVb/s1600/P1080610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNxnEAt6zSEKM_xrvGl1SeAakOXXAcjMW7rUE2_prMx7Lv8ygzhdnOLT8sg76KazohUpD37toBh1QDjBrUGUm4SkSlEwugkGiorGkvKx6ZxGBeKWpqYL8jdz_ZuVtSNKn9791JbbEoTVb/s320/P1080610.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>This picture made me sad as on one side of the fence is an</em><br />
<em>executive golf course while the whole other side is lined</em><br />
<em>with homeless people and their children.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBG2rT24zDjnqacrzqSm1kb_KZZSUwK5lKNi5LsyK2UCBvupkYfluuzJdmZTqzUuRf6sMVXeogv2uheLHDf1aRMf-cgY4-CsuZnSAMv4QGwwZ3yUZoSXtUQPqcmTRJbdXmytsyIg8uZH7n/s1600/P1080608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBG2rT24zDjnqacrzqSm1kb_KZZSUwK5lKNi5LsyK2UCBvupkYfluuzJdmZTqzUuRf6sMVXeogv2uheLHDf1aRMf-cgY4-CsuZnSAMv4QGwwZ3yUZoSXtUQPqcmTRJbdXmytsyIg8uZH7n/s320/P1080608.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>It was, indeed, pulpy.</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxP-CfB7x01F33kk87qWMnI3-YVJ5UDYbFGU_GKwNxYMmnlCZ_YYbTNPfLvUS3Q4nW17PZuA0HIJ8e0sa89msh3WWnFL-uyYOpkEqEV8hYH0lUtpARCaWY6A_0Yp0b6L1o0PAdZU5TppZV/s1600/P1080618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxP-CfB7x01F33kk87qWMnI3-YVJ5UDYbFGU_GKwNxYMmnlCZ_YYbTNPfLvUS3Q4nW17PZuA0HIJ8e0sa89msh3WWnFL-uyYOpkEqEV8hYH0lUtpARCaWY6A_0Yp0b6L1o0PAdZU5TppZV/s320/P1080618.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Sunset over Manila Bay</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-56677177466822998232013-11-24T22:06:00.000-03:002013-11-25T22:14:49.274-03:00Lone RangerI am officially on my own. My friend had to jet off yesterday for work, which left me with some work of my own to do. Work that I've been putting off all week, with unparalleled avoidance. Those of you that know me know that I'm a ridiculous procrastinator, as in I could win world-level prizes for the skill. This trait, combined with an intense dislike for planning of any kind combine to make me the WORST at travel planning. Love travel, hate the planning. Makes for quite the conundrum.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaA4bgTNr_Gzm0-ELzJnSxuqQktYyEzTsxvpgLutOeSAMK1X0uO9kmnNRip4-W2ozpCfOtSqWWCwRNL3kkLcEatBBBYFWsA49seuY-4fXkXfAA-GyKIesRBGcghoegM7CbbUeHD5tiwdMd/s1600/P1080580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaA4bgTNr_Gzm0-ELzJnSxuqQktYyEzTsxvpgLutOeSAMK1X0uO9kmnNRip4-W2ozpCfOtSqWWCwRNL3kkLcEatBBBYFWsA49seuY-4fXkXfAA-GyKIesRBGcghoegM7CbbUeHD5tiwdMd/s320/P1080580.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>It seems the reason the flights are so cheap is because you get</em><br />
<em>so little space. Had I not had an empty seat next to me and </em><br />
<em>been </em><em>able to sit sideways, I'm pretty sure my knees would </em><br />
<em>have been permanently indented</em><em> from being jammed so tightly </em><br />
<em>into the </em><em>seat in front of </em><em>me. For realz. </em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And as this whole trip had been so up in the air until the very last moment, I arrived with even less plans than I normally would have, which was quite a feat in and of itself. Upon landing in Seoul, I knew that I was spending about a week in Seoul and I had an approximation of a date that I will be heading back to the US. And that was it. The rest was wide open to, well, whim. Which is usually how I travel anyhow, so that part didn't concern me too much. I should have started to get concerned as the week progressed, but no. I should have been concerned once I realize that J was leaving Saturday and I had to be out of the hotel by Sunday and had no plans after that, but no. Pleeenty of time to figure such things out.<br />
<br />
But finally, after J took off Saturday, I could put it off no longer. I headed up to the lounge I'd come to think of as a second home and hunkered down to get serious. I decided that my future destinations would be decided by two factors: 1) places that I haven't already been and 2) places where I could fly to the cheapest. Asia has started up some 'discount' airlines so it's feasible to fly from place to place rather inexpensively. Kind of like EasyJet or RyanAir in Europe but slightly nicer and slightly more expensive. But still a pretty great bargain overall.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhEH1hyphenhyphenQa6e5XGT96scxFKbNimmTo3OH45EHuYWpQ4rw8jw2VvhBkqCQ5NxPKVq-ieCWC4NHykfMN3ZMmWqrwu1LMi2eKE0trS6nDaFKMRHfa6s1foKnnfpeEsB5B53e3ZuwhDsrxhe2L/s1600/P1080581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhEH1hyphenhyphenQa6e5XGT96scxFKbNimmTo3OH45EHuYWpQ4rw8jw2VvhBkqCQ5NxPKVq-ieCWC4NHykfMN3ZMmWqrwu1LMi2eKE0trS6nDaFKMRHfa6s1foKnnfpeEsB5B53e3ZuwhDsrxhe2L/s320/P1080581.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Asian airline food. So different and, yet, still so bad.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Based on the above criteria, my first post-Seoul destination is...... Manila, Philippines! I booked the flight and the hotel, feeling rather proud of myself. Booking the hotel was a bit of a challenge as, having never been there, I didn't know how much time I would want/need, but I'm also in the mode of not wanting to move around too much, preferring to be 'rooted' in a place at least long enough to unpack a little. <br />
<br />
After booking the Manila part, I decided I may as well ride the wave of motivation while it lasted and book the next flight. I found a super cheap flight ($89!) from Manila to Kuala Lumpur so figured I might as well grab it while it lasted. I have rarely gone to a place with a flight already in hand to the next place but, in this case, it turned out to be a tremendous stroke of good luck that I'd done so. When I got to the airport in Seoul, I was informed that I wouldn't be allowed to fly to the Philippines if I couldn't show a departure ticket. Amazing that I had booked one just 12 or so hours before and could whip it out as if, yes of course, I'm a totally informed traveler and knew that and came prepared. Whew!<br />
<br />
So here I am in Manila. I had to set my alarm for an obscenely early hour (4:30 am) and stumbled my way through the morning, but here I am. I have a feeling the adventure has just begun.<br />
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-33243307740771513502013-11-23T23:59:00.000-03:002013-11-25T23:50:44.390-03:00Worst. Tourist. Ever.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOqElQ6RJD1d0YbmjBSbl-WbkFO3Mk-dqKKO21c2vwtOMXYeKw2zKPdsL29Y2pPS3YKAitsHJtvDf8Kfs99hyphenhyphenkeIldtWzk5mF_A4Wv9QKh4SNac24HrVqV6D3vvZzqD2Ca_qeSwfiET9V/s1600/conrad3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOqElQ6RJD1d0YbmjBSbl-WbkFO3Mk-dqKKO21c2vwtOMXYeKw2zKPdsL29Y2pPS3YKAitsHJtvDf8Kfs99hyphenhyphenkeIldtWzk5mF_A4Wv9QKh4SNac24HrVqV6D3vvZzqD2Ca_qeSwfiET9V/s320/conrad3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
My complete lack of posts this whole week wasn't without reason. That reason
being that I had nothing to write about as I have been the lamest traveler
ever this week. All week. From start to finish. Oh yes, I have. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCb-4TJATtmaOPh3IjxUtPrL-tvMHpkf2kryue5nE-G0GRBiJZWA8-GSSs3M5gy4a7DnM8HwUfo_ROfoKB2E7oJcKXQaYwZ3F5WBjbbmxAqiV-bFBVBvmYS18ZKNYkdUBu-EK16pzpbdJ/s1600/conrad7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCb-4TJATtmaOPh3IjxUtPrL-tvMHpkf2kryue5nE-G0GRBiJZWA8-GSSs3M5gy4a7DnM8HwUfo_ROfoKB2E7oJcKXQaYwZ3F5WBjbbmxAqiV-bFBVBvmYS18ZKNYkdUBu-EK16pzpbdJ/s320/conrad7.jpg" width="320" /></a>To be fair, Seoul has never been super high on my list of "must see places" (okay, it wasn't on the list at all) and my sole purpose in coming here was to hang out with my friend who is working here. Which I did, so at least I accomplished <strong><i>something</i></strong> this week. But not much else. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSIA7Tlb2FXU1eLmTXPzmOPPRFv422twoSQ5CEB-bqQR6obw1rxSTY8CZR5K761BKyqvj27i1UAAU80_Ws_gzmvRqIduO67Dg3sZUW0AdZFW8CUIp5wWaeXy_qDd69lz5LTGzGjyIpAqk/s1600/conrad6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSIA7Tlb2FXU1eLmTXPzmOPPRFv422twoSQ5CEB-bqQR6obw1rxSTY8CZR5K761BKyqvj27i1UAAU80_Ws_gzmvRqIduO67Dg3sZUW0AdZFW8CUIp5wWaeXy_qDd69lz5LTGzGjyIpAqk/s320/conrad6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Note the TV built right into the bathroom mirror. </em><br />
<em>Because, really, who doesn't need to watch</em><br />
<em>TV while brushing their teeth?</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have to admit that jetlag kicked my butt on this trip. Which it pains me
to say as I must confess that I've always taken a bizarre pride in my ability
to defy jetlag. I scoffed at people that suffered from it, those who needed
two or three days to adjust to a place, who couldn't make it through the
first week without naps. Those who were bleary-eyed and foggy-minded for
days and unable to adjust instantaneously to the local time. I scoffed.
And now I am one of them. Doh! <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWkEhwjALWlDodWvk694aOIq418Hu2hR9zR-lPwvfcXDF1Gh-7nBG_r7lLi39yTDyIk29YL0q5WgvIpfT7OFF260Rrf9GHrYSMJCA-QDmvFrWUw1emnrJYo5LLuK8Mtq_INjGSl5eybVIl/s1600/conrad4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWkEhwjALWlDodWvk694aOIq418Hu2hR9zR-lPwvfcXDF1Gh-7nBG_r7lLi39yTDyIk29YL0q5WgvIpfT7OFF260Rrf9GHrYSMJCA-QDmvFrWUw1emnrJYo5LLuK8Mtq_INjGSl5eybVIl/s320/conrad4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The cushy lounge where we spent so much time, we might as </em><br />
<em>well have just paid to stay here instead.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I think the fatal combination this time was being up the entire night before
I left (more than 24 hours by the time I took off) mixed with the knock-out
punch of losing my cushy seat in first class and ending up in coach, where I
have always found it impossible to sleep. Not sleeping one whole night and then
only sleeping a sketchy 1 or 2 hours here and there over the next took a toll.
No worries, I thought, I'll get one great night's sleep upon arrival and that
will be that, just like I always do. But no, no. Instead I spent the first few
nights never sleeping more than 3 hours at a shot, spending hours laying in
bed, infuriatingly wide awake, cursing under my breath about not being
able to sleep and finally waking up for good at obscene hours like 4:30 am (seriously,
what does one DO at 4:30 am??). Oh yeah, I was lots of fun to be around those
first couple of days.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL6pSI4UadKTMlskYhWd8usVDe570yetpyScGxp9iB9m7xDBheLeO0SnzcQ1k4g7Ffaox4lxaryUY1R1kwfp7SYC_2k_rmdd-Zfh7PmVLYy2anDA0pRp-m0K2v5W9cT-uJnF0J4KT81RH/s1600/conradpool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL6pSI4UadKTMlskYhWd8usVDe570yetpyScGxp9iB9m7xDBheLeO0SnzcQ1k4g7Ffaox4lxaryUY1R1kwfp7SYC_2k_rmdd-Zfh7PmVLYy2anDA0pRp-m0K2v5W9cT-uJnF0J4KT81RH/s320/conradpool.jpg" width="320" /></a>After an oh-so-sketchy night of "sleep" upon arriving Friday, I
had to be out of my hotel by 1:00 on Saturday, expecting to meet up with my friend
at that time. But instead unexpected work delays happened and I ended up
homeless while between hotels and having to expend a herculean effort to
stay awake all afternoon while killing time in various coffee shops, waiting.
And waiting. And waiting some more. By the time we met up in the evening, I was
pretty useless. And that was as exciting as Day One got. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQN7qE8ucxilpsDWb-h_6A97br-3GMyj7ezz4vE1erO2QjIJpCAadqV0sCR4JUWSZr6Dt73umfO8Q88_uOXnobhrUjqHrPEVV59SZHhV8o41XWB7qmLoYk02LbGg6KCyYfR1mzWV7CkPpc/s1600/conrad8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQN7qE8ucxilpsDWb-h_6A97br-3GMyj7ezz4vE1erO2QjIJpCAadqV0sCR4JUWSZr6Dt73umfO8Q88_uOXnobhrUjqHrPEVV59SZHhV8o41XWB7qmLoYk02LbGg6KCyYfR1mzWV7CkPpc/s320/conrad8.jpg" width="320" /></a>Day Two and Day Three weren't much more exciting. But we stayed this week at
the Conrad Seoul which, if you have to be jetlagged and want to just hang out
and enjoy the good life while adjusting, is just about as good as any place to
do it. And as I won't see another hotel like it while traveling on my own, I
decided to enjoy it for all it was worth: a fat corner room overlooking the river, a cushy bed with mountains of pillows,
access to the Executive Lounge (read: free food and drinks), a fancy schmancy
swimming pool, an indoor driving range, and service that is so over-the-top
it's almost embarrassing. So, yeah, mix hanging out in a luxury hotel with a
week spent chilling with an old friend I haven’t seen in a while and it made me
one unmotivated tourist indeed. <br />
.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj67ydL5OFxqh1bIxlsV1n9ao6pyh7D6hkgIBgRihODTSFQC-JN91DqtamSZlci5C1fKc1D9sGk6guRq4phgYLUgh5SDL5NUyjnKGZqWVnEFD6AxcSlmw21NkuvSntkds27A0foDhWVLRva/s1600/P1080557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj67ydL5OFxqh1bIxlsV1n9ao6pyh7D6hkgIBgRihODTSFQC-JN91DqtamSZlci5C1fKc1D9sGk6guRq4phgYLUgh5SDL5NUyjnKGZqWVnEFD6AxcSlmw21NkuvSntkds27A0foDhWVLRva/s320/P1080557.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Changdeokgung Palace. See? I DID leave the hotel!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We talked, we laughed, we ate, we swam, we napped, we lollygagged over
breakfast (one day until, I exaggerate not, 3 pm), we caught up on the minutiae
of each others' lives, we solved all of the world's problems and we talked
about things we should do but never got around to. It was delightful.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdfI-1WUDErVArk15XFhDya836uRVkooLpY0AC15e16B-wpruCTtUn7gNdyi9ugd51Dw0Xhak8EN5_ochoGX3-pTY9fTJtRX5g1SvNjFVshYnL9lBQ1olnShurGNKegybdgOQk4vogQuq/s1600/P1080554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdfI-1WUDErVArk15XFhDya836uRVkooLpY0AC15e16B-wpruCTtUn7gNdyi9ugd51Dw0Xhak8EN5_ochoGX3-pTY9fTJtRX5g1SvNjFVshYnL9lBQ1olnShurGNKegybdgOQk4vogQuq/s320/P1080554.JPG" width="320" /></a>But, alas, all good things must come to an end. Wednesday J had work that
could no longer be avoided so I tore myself away from my cushy surroundings,
bundled up, and headed out on my own to navigate the Seoul metro system. I went
to see the Changdeokgung Palace, completed in the year 1412 and used as one of the primary palaces of the princes of the Joseon Dynasty, and then wandered around the Bukchon Hanok Village, one of
the older parts of the city, filled with traditional Korean style
homes and buildings. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Thursday was J's birthday so we yet again braved the outside world (two days
in a row!) and went to a really nice, traditional Korean barbecue restaurant.
Despite what I already knew to be a distaste for kimchee, I decided to give it
another try as, really, when will I ever get more authentic kimchee than while
in Korea? Turns out that, yep, I still dislike it. A lot. Ate all sorts of other
stuff I couldn't identify, which was made easier by washing it all down with
soju, Korea's equivalent of saki. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUC37e8pDCzg4Scq2_95dmyI27EXrnl5-8qBhbF3Mc4CXZqahbxx8IGLAzpB8NJ593y65EOqwyBVG8hqKhKgJOxODexhGFdnUxvMT04HuKqEuI8CIcjKcYHNtoI51lN8V-omxfqlG82ctV/s1600/P1080556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUC37e8pDCzg4Scq2_95dmyI27EXrnl5-8qBhbF3Mc4CXZqahbxx8IGLAzpB8NJ593y65EOqwyBVG8hqKhKgJOxODexhGFdnUxvMT04HuKqEuI8CIcjKcYHNtoI51lN8V-omxfqlG82ctV/s320/P1080556.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
A sidenote: we walked to dinner and, once we were in the general
vicinity, were having trouble finding the actual restaurant so I popped into a
coffee shop to ask for help. It created a buzz of activity among all of the
workers and eventually one sweet, giggling little girl guided me to the door,
me assuming she was just going to point out the general direction. But she
ended up walking about 5-6 blocks with us, taking us right up to the door of
the restaurant. And as if that wasn’t enough, she kept apologizing the whole
time for not being able to speak English. As if she needed to apologize to me
for not speaking MY language while I was in HER country as opposed to the other
way around. It made me feel even worse for my complete and utter lack of Korean
language ability. That kind of kindness that I encounter regularly overseas
never ceases to amaze me. If a foreigner in Lancaster asked me for directions,
would I drop what I was doing and walk them the whole way to their destination?
All I can say is that I will from now on.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6QDsNly5J17OEd1gZS1MA5NuFqNDPz-JD735n2eH4cg4mhrAfWuvOy7yeoVeVX8yPeaxTPznyZhamNfEEN9ZYXpXRCtnbF56XdJJt7ZvphhQexip4pNQ1xO8BKX8zE51uoL38YIOYJUq/s1600/P1080559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6QDsNly5J17OEd1gZS1MA5NuFqNDPz-JD735n2eH4cg4mhrAfWuvOy7yeoVeVX8yPeaxTPznyZhamNfEEN9ZYXpXRCtnbF56XdJJt7ZvphhQexip4pNQ1xO8BKX8zE51uoL38YIOYJUq/s320/P1080559.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Traditional style buildings in Bukchon Village</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmIfb4NrKDJnwmfdhoSaGlW-zJL-nrsYFHkEmv-jlPzqrtbZXT3QyrC7hsgn9im_feGh98AOxOPWblYJEnt4tx8wndCaG-tD-AaOSUupYR1Rq8PCHrSfJoylBpiZhaacLY2nAAP12d3o2B/s1600/P1080564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmIfb4NrKDJnwmfdhoSaGlW-zJL-nrsYFHkEmv-jlPzqrtbZXT3QyrC7hsgn9im_feGh98AOxOPWblYJEnt4tx8wndCaG-tD-AaOSUupYR1Rq8PCHrSfJoylBpiZhaacLY2nAAP12d3o2B/s320/P1080564.JPG" width="320" /></a>Yesterday on the subway (I know, out in public again!) I happened to catch
the eye of an older Korean gentleman who had the kindest looking face. I smiled
at him, presuming a man his age likely didn't speak English. Shows what I know.
He struck up a conversation, starting off by chiding the both of us for
not wearing coats (the heat in the subway car was blasting and we were stripped down to the bare
minimum socially acceptable amount of clothing and
were still sweating bullets while everyone else was all bundled up to the
hilt - big, fat coats zipped the whole way up with gloves, scarves and hats - as
if it wasn't 5,000 degrees in the subway car). And then he tapped the shoulder
of the stranger standing next to him and shamelessly started pointing
out to him my toe rings (yes, I am still wearing sandals in wintery Seoul),
talking and laughing. They seemed to be having a rather amusing conversation at
the expense of my feet but then switched back to English just long enough to
tell me that "Koreans don't wear rings on feet. We think weird. Very
weird". Fortunately, I'm not the sensitive type. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6IVtsXkbvFAHp2mx9qy7DROx1MmYueL12kBUOhAP4R1cX0S64Ez9zHZDrB7YjtKegTAbpUxE8hzMAkFbcq4qwH2X11wehK1NbrM8VLPv588f8cEW4PeRAWNZWxGn-qfhNAgc0tRdZag0l/s1600/P1080563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6IVtsXkbvFAHp2mx9qy7DROx1MmYueL12kBUOhAP4R1cX0S64Ez9zHZDrB7YjtKegTAbpUxE8hzMAkFbcq4qwH2X11wehK1NbrM8VLPv588f8cEW4PeRAWNZWxGn-qfhNAgc0tRdZag0l/s320/P1080563.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
So this is my last day in Seoul… for now. Tomorrow I head off to begin what
will be a few weeks of journeying through other foreign lands before coming
back here for another few days on my way back to the States. Warm weather, here
I come!Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-31323480354991878332013-11-16T03:03:00.000-03:002013-11-20T07:39:52.439-03:00"The Journey Is The Destination". Lies, All Lies!And so I find myself back at it. But this time, just getting here was probably a bigger adventure than anything else I'll experience on this whole trip. They say that the journey is the destination; if that's the case, I want a new destination! <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9_BLPbRuhTAYqnKyeyWBhHlomE-xL_sDnHxcNe6q1XZKaqLEvd3-g6wM7wDjUni3bvKaF3uULU0HH-6ruskNfhrC4XAXnmHOubz9v4gcuV7PHn-UFf1u0TLN4O_q-2alo76Amqh8MHoT/s1600/Seoul2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9_BLPbRuhTAYqnKyeyWBhHlomE-xL_sDnHxcNe6q1XZKaqLEvd3-g6wM7wDjUni3bvKaF3uULU0HH-6ruskNfhrC4XAXnmHOubz9v4gcuV7PHn-UFf1u0TLN4O_q-2alo76Amqh8MHoT/s320/Seoul2.jpg" width="320" /></a>The plans were simple enough, I booked a ticket way back in August (a record in pre-planning for me, by the way) to be in Asia from 11/1 to 12/22. Sounds simple enough, right? And then a few days before I was scheduled to leave I found out that my nephew got last-minute leave from the Marines and would be home.... you guessed it.... the very day I was set to take off. As I hadn't seen him in about a year and the idea of not getting to see him at all while he was home was just too cruel to bear, I decided to push back my departure date to 11/5 so I could at least spend the weekend with him. Still sounds simple, right? And it should have been. The change was made, I received my confirmation email with my new flight info. and I was genuinely pleased with just how perfectly it had all worked out. And then.<br />
<br />
And then it all crumbled around me and there was nothing I could do about it. It's a long, grueling story and I shall spare you all of the gory details (you're welcome) but it involved an employee at the airline who had made a mistake when she rebooked me and, rather than admit it, she just cancelled the whole itinerary instead to cover her tracks. Without ever notifying me. I found out completely by chance a day before I was set to go to the airport that my ticket no longer existed. (Let me suffice it to say that Jill White of American Airlines had better never cross my path!) The details of the ensuing panic, chaos, anger, disappointment, begging, pleading, screaming, waiting, calling and hoping defy explanation. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXHdqjBTr0OlVop7mK2DbA-UnEvydc8ZuSdDawqjkj_2ynfpyuHhK7tLLSfZK6ihLP-vMnpEIW_l17REl_weVniqUna_52ZLwTZIPl8biLRh5uKhzR14rczhvcCu_QhmNTL6PiDSIKf0V/s1600/Seoul.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXHdqjBTr0OlVop7mK2DbA-UnEvydc8ZuSdDawqjkj_2ynfpyuHhK7tLLSfZK6ihLP-vMnpEIW_l17REl_weVniqUna_52ZLwTZIPl8biLRh5uKhzR14rczhvcCu_QhmNTL6PiDSIKf0V/s320/Seoul.png" width="320" /></a><br />
Nearly two weeks after my original departure date (including a couple of days I allowed myself to have a pity party), I finally and fully accepted that the trip wasn't going to happen and I was prepared to let it go. I started making other plans, starting seeing the positives as to why this had happened, even came up with a few things I thought were benefits of the trip being cancelled. I came to complete peace with it. And then.<br />
<br />
And then I got a message saying things had been sorted out with the airlines and I should start looking around for another ticket. Sigh. As I was working with an award ticket and it was so close to the date of departure, it was easier said than done. But I found one, albeit a far inferior one to the original. I put it on hold but still had to wait to hear if it would work out or not. Yet another long story short, I finally booked it for good with about 18 hours to spare before take-off. Cue me packing furiously, racing to get last-minute arrangements done and figuring out transport to the airport as well as a place to stay upon landing.<br />
<br />
My new flight left at 6:30 am from Dulles Airport on Thursday morning, which meant heading down on the late train the night before, getting in at 1:30 am. Not enough time to be worth getting a hotel, so I decided I could suck it up and just stay up all night. Awesome plan. In case you've ever wondered if you were missing out on anything by hanging out alone at Dulles Airport between the hours of 2 and 5 am, allow me to set your mind at ease... you are not.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cECoXpaK5MM7Zc8aTc83Ggdg1-u_033WXKRugfvUr6Gn14gji2-XqX90VKmlyoewoeAd-m9_CzP6ZIPi7FQzatppGNIVEayNyCgaMcAdxvYv0jMeqndMCtfQwLVuvqJrJResg8xHgG7E/s1600/seoul3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cECoXpaK5MM7Zc8aTc83Ggdg1-u_033WXKRugfvUr6Gn14gji2-XqX90VKmlyoewoeAd-m9_CzP6ZIPi7FQzatppGNIVEayNyCgaMcAdxvYv0jMeqndMCtfQwLVuvqJrJResg8xHgG7E/s320/seoul3.jpg" width="320" /></a>Now missing out on a night of sleep before a long flight wouldn't have really been a big deal had I been able to keep my original flight, my glorious, cushy, huge, bed-like seat in first class. When I arrived in Dallas, I would have been able to take a shower and eat some food in the fancy schmancy lounge so I would feel refreshed and clean and ready for the long haul flight. I would have been able to stretch out in my seat 3J under my cushy blanket in my lie-flat seat and effortlessly sleep the equivalent of a full night's sleep, waking up only for purposes of eating genuinely good food served on real dishes, drinking fabulous drinks and watching my own seemingly limitless on-demand entertainment system. But no. <br />
<br />
Instead, because I bought my new ticket at the very last minute (and, lest we forget, because Jill White screwed me!), I got stuck back in coach, cramped seats, crappy food and even crappier entertainment system and all (everyone and everything looked red on my screen although it didn't matter much as there was only ONE movie worth watching anyhow). The only saving grace to my fall from grace was that I was able to charm (that, or he took extreme pity on my horribly and obviously exhausted self) the ticket agent in Dallas into moving me to a seat with two empties next to it. Had that not been the case, had I not been able to stretch out some of the time, I just may not have made it. God bless the kindness of southern airline workers!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1myL0fiFNVycFc2Dr9oBw8NN44zVKXD9xpTS8P0WeTEom3Q1WQpwftRguXkDNzEDS0rY9tC95z8LGflcLVye8d1xo-2lkzpPWx9KOSR2kyACgQ6y_7-dUdmNiNkDNh_O8YIJdTU9XxgM/s1600/seoul4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1myL0fiFNVycFc2Dr9oBw8NN44zVKXD9xpTS8P0WeTEom3Q1WQpwftRguXkDNzEDS0rY9tC95z8LGflcLVye8d1xo-2lkzpPWx9KOSR2kyACgQ6y_7-dUdmNiNkDNh_O8YIJdTU9XxgM/s320/seoul4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
So, I made it to Seoul. My friend that I'm going to be hanging out with while here was working in another area yesterday so we're meeting up today. It worked out just fine. By the time I arrived last night, having slept only about 6-7 hours cumulatively (never more than 2 at a time, mind you) over the course of the past 48, unshowered, unkempt and wiped out, I was more than happy to just head to my hotel and spend the night on my own. My big plan for the night was to lay low, take the longest, hottest shower in recorded history, and to treat myself to room service and get some much-needed rest. That was until I saw the room service menu in my room. Some of the highlights, in USD: <br />
<br />
Latte: $13<br />
Lemonade: $17<br />
Orange juice: $18<br />
Selection of fruits: $35<br />
French fries: $40<br />
<br />
And, yes, you did read that right, an order of french fries was indeed $40! Suffice it to say that a smooshed granola bar from the bottom of my suitcase has never tasted so good. The dinner of champions!<br />
<br />
Zzzzzzzzz.Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-999630747710131152012-11-14T05:16:00.000-03:002013-11-16T05:16:33.205-03:00Las Chiquitas (The Little Girls)Text to follow.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirgMt0UDl6xw77RJiDOb4toUE4iQIhScaKsPHGgDjzUEg2GxZoIyOV5iPqOy0mgzoShxhKCXKD1dzXcMd85MUybW_Qei8MxZ2hyK4YN4JRMHE2bWGhavEF0Bam2HxnREFPqBcWlSgmvDi_/s1600/P1070435-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirgMt0UDl6xw77RJiDOb4toUE4iQIhScaKsPHGgDjzUEg2GxZoIyOV5iPqOy0mgzoShxhKCXKD1dzXcMd85MUybW_Qei8MxZ2hyK4YN4JRMHE2bWGhavEF0Bam2HxnREFPqBcWlSgmvDi_/s320/P1070435-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Dulce y Diana... these two are inseparable!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5h7Bn9Lu4bnK5Lq87CGYHuv4kukJzt_HzWfTV9kNMG-kFLcBtp6PFoEZNjlFOSwA0SFcdL5hDYvZLj7zFHISXQaZAiQqay8286JrBHzKy31U0qedX2QgF35nVhLA9fRAc8KaRUeTLxuM/s1600/P1070440-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5h7Bn9Lu4bnK5Lq87CGYHuv4kukJzt_HzWfTV9kNMG-kFLcBtp6PFoEZNjlFOSwA0SFcdL5hDYvZLj7zFHISXQaZAiQqay8286JrBHzKy31U0qedX2QgF35nVhLA9fRAc8KaRUeTLxuM/s320/P1070440-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Leydi y Nilda doing cross-stitch which then gets sold to help</em><br />
<em>raise money for the home</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR6ewneoglkVpIYQICrxuCl_yjJv4cOgKPYmLtQQsOB9d8SgTuRIlnvsLSKF4nrW1oNDspV6WhXNZ2t5cc6j9rT35KlkhgK1Xe_COSv07mTxV3KjO5fS-dKADx07oL2aOWGb1BCON55_cz/s1600/P1070442-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR6ewneoglkVpIYQICrxuCl_yjJv4cOgKPYmLtQQsOB9d8SgTuRIlnvsLSKF4nrW1oNDspV6WhXNZ2t5cc6j9rT35KlkhgK1Xe_COSv07mTxV3KjO5fS-dKADx07oL2aOWGb1BCON55_cz/s320/P1070442-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>And despite the fact that I have not a crafty bone in my body, </em><br />
<em>they wanted me to pose as if I were contributing</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPlTal2WpLfrkTAFI46TbYDQjKFyQ_d-n4bw_nlI6cb9D_r1kc4W6vOBEvoRju1nLUNEn0uE3CISQsVa_hi9XH1gfOk8VBIdxNRTeKUHfYdgiU4-OMMNbtlbVj66HBo_s9lfqlFNMLizH/s1600/P1070450+(2)-+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPlTal2WpLfrkTAFI46TbYDQjKFyQ_d-n4bw_nlI6cb9D_r1kc4W6vOBEvoRju1nLUNEn0uE3CISQsVa_hi9XH1gfOk8VBIdxNRTeKUHfYdgiU4-OMMNbtlbVj66HBo_s9lfqlFNMLizH/s320/P1070450+(2)-+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>With Nilda, the sweetest girl ever</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxR23gECJpLRG60AdIFbeDfzzABR-DrKEzbrm57NPIPRuyQq1kLlx31eSgFqmGDkPChAbTL5Dqiac-bz8Rdfqijmbw4STuJRczPE158TVik1mV6cRqvJsu4ZXtOnU2AYzwD3_ojAvJ7ZbE/s1600/P1070459-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxR23gECJpLRG60AdIFbeDfzzABR-DrKEzbrm57NPIPRuyQq1kLlx31eSgFqmGDkPChAbTL5Dqiac-bz8Rdfqijmbw4STuJRczPE158TVik1mV6cRqvJsu4ZXtOnU2AYzwD3_ojAvJ7ZbE/s320/P1070459-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The blonde hair was a bit of a fascination for the kids. They</em><br />
<em>spent hours brushing and doing up my "Barbie" hair</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_o7f_4tS2pcwiOyQTx1E24xQr1RKCokigZJMM1u7vhTAoWPULTGNOuJxXTafajfatFCr4whgE4v79SM8yqGZJDqhfqu2lK8R_hBuX1-OZNn2-BQ8nTmhUxaS-yA0iRDkruT8TtQiECBvF/s1600/P1070471-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_o7f_4tS2pcwiOyQTx1E24xQr1RKCokigZJMM1u7vhTAoWPULTGNOuJxXTafajfatFCr4whgE4v79SM8yqGZJDqhfqu2lK8R_hBuX1-OZNn2-BQ8nTmhUxaS-yA0iRDkruT8TtQiECBvF/s320/P1070471-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Judith y yo. She loved that she had the same name as my mother</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWU_HXUUsqanl1ucvwpfP2jSsFOfu3VcntA53PlgAWB7_eJnGvyuRCF6YKf_vCMk5NquMmGa_FurYSYzMlBcB_JxRWJiY0dcG-NQUm9OgM1WLEXTaCuplPw9agv5TpuJdWVYfqoEwRBqb/s1600/P1070473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWU_HXUUsqanl1ucvwpfP2jSsFOfu3VcntA53PlgAWB7_eJnGvyuRCF6YKf_vCMk5NquMmGa_FurYSYzMlBcB_JxRWJiY0dcG-NQUm9OgM1WLEXTaCuplPw9agv5TpuJdWVYfqoEwRBqb/s320/P1070473.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Judith y Nilda being cool</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkS4BH5ECbQZPMJsKT5H-ovaAQPDQL81GErNiwJWVtqFBXIg7CJxzgQO62X7p56R-OwtUzL93P1swuyjzpZsYv40qoCZQoieFCRGD4JjNJ2x_k9Qr5Tdiy6Gj58TLdXZMNZm1Q5P0XBXLo/s1600/P1070478-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkS4BH5ECbQZPMJsKT5H-ovaAQPDQL81GErNiwJWVtqFBXIg7CJxzgQO62X7p56R-OwtUzL93P1swuyjzpZsYv40qoCZQoieFCRGD4JjNJ2x_k9Qr5Tdiy6Gj58TLdXZMNZm1Q5P0XBXLo/s320/P1070478-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Early morning breakfast before everyone</em><br />
<em>heads off to school</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNiOyo3XALesybYovO6Xb77s4Zg4DBqGaDpnQDNJajz-Bfgv7tXseUS9cFcRbUOjp7BtFF8yish7XVJvoF4gwuRYA9qRGOsNDadEOJi5nZwx901SCWcFmDdae3pyVGZkb0rZeuheVNCCTs/s1600/P1070475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNiOyo3XALesybYovO6Xb77s4Zg4DBqGaDpnQDNJajz-Bfgv7tXseUS9cFcRbUOjp7BtFF8yish7XVJvoF4gwuRYA9qRGOsNDadEOJi5nZwx901SCWcFmDdae3pyVGZkb0rZeuheVNCCTs/s320/P1070475.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Dulce, Leydi, Diana, Nilda y yo</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-60361778858973083492012-11-13T23:59:00.000-03:002012-11-19T13:25:35.543-03:00Take That, Grand Canyon!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWElMSq4eXx2vopK85Lmimiw1GrKLFnLaMdod0ahRK-ULYtDqFz6NnaxYcxayTOv6P78uLe5rHlDZTvWwSb4rjepy6uUHxbUSpr5aMTkyLeuAeRfh3G-MB2kT0SoH5Je7_vYA2ytkxGF3r/s1600/P1070406-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWElMSq4eXx2vopK85Lmimiw1GrKLFnLaMdod0ahRK-ULYtDqFz6NnaxYcxayTOv6P78uLe5rHlDZTvWwSb4rjepy6uUHxbUSpr5aMTkyLeuAeRfh3G-MB2kT0SoH5Je7_vYA2ytkxGF3r/s320/P1070406-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Twice as deep as the Grand Canyon... suck it, AZ!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ugh. Our last truly official touristy act and was it ever a
doozie. Turns out that the world’s deepest canyons are in Peru, just about 3
hours outside of Arequipa. So, yeah, we had to go. And unfortunately you have
to go with a tour company and, even more unfortunately, you have to leave at 3
am. Why you have to leave at 3 am, we have yet to come up with one logical
answer to, but there it was anyhow. So at 2 am we dragged our sorry butts out
of bed and took a cab into town where we were to meet the bus at 3.
Three-thirty and still no bus. Now, I understand and am very patient with the
time system (or lack thereof) down here but somehow it’s not quite so endearing
at 3 am when you’re sitting in a cold plaza by yourself, ready to fall over
from exhaustion. They finally showed up, which was such a relief as we assumed
we could then spend the whole 3 hours sleeping but, no no, we weren’t counting
on the blaring Latin music playing the whole way there. It was awesome!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcjPs58oqft1kdePVcD_sDtEiBx6tW9WofqHpStj3buH0GtNWnqYb6cQ7zCBzvJDqZPZRj8NpOchn7qZg-E7G5_5ZS-azBbvb72E6wZlN5bmdvT3-KVxOdpPcJecH0xA4OX-BjsstURKFW/s1600/P1070413-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcjPs58oqft1kdePVcD_sDtEiBx6tW9WofqHpStj3buH0GtNWnqYb6cQ7zCBzvJDqZPZRj8NpOchn7qZg-E7G5_5ZS-azBbvb72E6wZlN5bmdvT3-KVxOdpPcJecH0xA4OX-BjsstURKFW/s320/P1070413-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>La Cruz del Condor (Cross of the Condor). And</em><br />
<em>that would be condor, singular.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We finally made it around 8, exhausted as we were. Colca
Canyons are twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, although not nearly as expansive
and the walls of Colca are far more sloped so it doesn’t give the impression of
being as deep, oddly. The canyons were always known to locals, of course, but
weren’t discovered by the outside until the 1980s and not opened to visitors
until the 1990’s. Turns out that a big draw to the canyons is the condors that
live there and can regularly be seen soaring effortlessly in the vast expanse.
Except when we’re there, of course. We sat for an hour waiting for them to show
and…. a big, fat zero. Defeated, we finally turned to go… and a condor
appeared! One lone, solo condor. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhae1IDYmvcv9FrCwKt82_DT7jGoeuLsUfFuSa8Mf-iVpbwoSg62vwIFNAOTXMu3CcXsqHFk-m2BNLvNcc03nro0ARbtrRJAG7sRtIPOzY5Nptn4RizjBFUnWmYLnlQNbH0wrevE-0tUpVO/s1600/P1070419-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhae1IDYmvcv9FrCwKt82_DT7jGoeuLsUfFuSa8Mf-iVpbwoSg62vwIFNAOTXMu3CcXsqHFk-m2BNLvNcc03nro0ARbtrRJAG7sRtIPOzY5Nptn4RizjBFUnWmYLnlQNbH0wrevE-0tUpVO/s320/P1070419-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Look closely, there it is!THE condor of the hour, literally.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDE7xQBE4sHHUm4ZajNif4Qto0f2L-QBrTvQcBCyP1crSR2IdXOlv6xxd4Plm4F4a6IZ25QQZCFevnaW9x0tSVFf5LdvJGg6KAoSxYIXMlzgF81ZSfp1RC2lBLOc9NU5cqgPlype0Nmfe/s1600/P1070423-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDE7xQBE4sHHUm4ZajNif4Qto0f2L-QBrTvQcBCyP1crSR2IdXOlv6xxd4Plm4F4a6IZ25QQZCFevnaW9x0tSVFf5LdvJGg6KAoSxYIXMlzgF81ZSfp1RC2lBLOc9NU5cqgPlype0Nmfe/s320/P1070423-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Hard to see but there are lots of the 'levels' of agricultural</em><br />
<em>farming that the Incas did here, too.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<o:p>The coolest part of the day, oddly, was when we wandered off with a Dutch couple we'd met this morning into the tiny little town set in the canyons to have lunch. It was one of those places where the locals eat, and you walk in and order "one, please". You don't have to bother asking what they have because you don't choose, you eat whatever they've made that day. This day it was caldo, a broth-based soup with lots of veggies, some pumpkin shell, and a few big, grisly pieces of unidentifiable meat. The restaurant was a true hole-in-the-wall, open air with stray dogs running in and out. The meal for the 4 of us cost 12 soles, or about $4.50US. I love that stuff!</o:p></div>
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So, yes, we spent lots of dough to get up at 2 am and see a
big hole in the ground with a bird flying through it. Can’t win ‘em all, eh? But,
hey, still beats a day at the office!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwWPaD-GlL_GifZ7P6IMvDKZRZy1UoLZspKErAVrsdnNRpkVXmJwW08UAui484eIIofJiQDXggMsdkfHTHYKmrDg8S8aQDFkm4oKzh2Ek3t2cqssV9D22l6hOXuM1ntFeIcRdii8KsRA0/s1600/P1070426-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwWPaD-GlL_GifZ7P6IMvDKZRZy1UoLZspKErAVrsdnNRpkVXmJwW08UAui484eIIofJiQDXggMsdkfHTHYKmrDg8S8aQDFkm4oKzh2Ek3t2cqssV9D22l6hOXuM1ntFeIcRdii8KsRA0/s320/P1070426-2.jpg" width="320" /></a>We had a great evening, spent simply spending time with the
girls at the home. We played UNO, we talked, the girls did my hair and we
laughed. The evening redeemed the whole day, hands down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrnKTcrMel9TNiMiVY5rLvG9mIFDGtAPrse2FGb15n5hv4lZKrijCMQ8B-u_FT1GYWzupVOOXLgpGy2UrAsUq6CYfiy8To5sdI7JQgJVNfo_L7NCmWYY6lchkdnNM-O-Y-Ut4CiWeoHMQ/s1600/P1070428-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrnKTcrMel9TNiMiVY5rLvG9mIFDGtAPrse2FGb15n5hv4lZKrijCMQ8B-u_FT1GYWzupVOOXLgpGy2UrAsUq6CYfiy8To5sdI7JQgJVNfo_L7NCmWYY6lchkdnNM-O-Y-Ut4CiWeoHMQ/s320/P1070428-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>A local church in one of the communities of people that </em><br />
<em>still </em><em>live in the canyon region</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKHVbt9xDbIgHfysX4nImy6EfqIcPKUacMwymZ8Q12fd_uBSBI8JXA5nuqmqLC8susw2tVafdBL_ah4ycX3bwhJFO7ZioVzqB9N5fkNv-nkY2TIQjgPfG4bXcAiQnllpU8R75g0GGEhdSV/s1600/P1070429-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKHVbt9xDbIgHfysX4nImy6EfqIcPKUacMwymZ8Q12fd_uBSBI8JXA5nuqmqLC8susw2tVafdBL_ah4ycX3bwhJFO7ZioVzqB9N5fkNv-nkY2TIQjgPfG4bXcAiQnllpU8R75g0GGEhdSV/s320/P1070429-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Not too concerned about oncoming</em><br />
<em>traffic, obviously</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-43552915617928361572012-11-12T23:59:00.000-03:002012-11-15T23:53:20.006-03:00Unexpected Awesomeness<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJw1xIvR_g3qqEjwDt7B7K7dvwHPQm5Sm0fr_iv7tf8ccf1IRt-CpgPCP-TK5ml73-kBvkeCAu4GGwW7FKx-8KHoWCFCg-kdLUYSGOL8VN08Q-O5UjBB6ujHqgkm0mC0aqhiDyn1ZW2a5/s1600/P1070372-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJw1xIvR_g3qqEjwDt7B7K7dvwHPQm5Sm0fr_iv7tf8ccf1IRt-CpgPCP-TK5ml73-kBvkeCAu4GGwW7FKx-8KHoWCFCg-kdLUYSGOL8VN08Q-O5UjBB6ujHqgkm0mC0aqhiDyn1ZW2a5/s320/P1070372-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Snow-covered mountains surround Arequipa</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As Fernando could only host us part of the time, last night
we moved to a hostel. I believe I can now assuredly say that I have officially
reached the age where I am over hostels. WAY over them. I’ve done lots of
hostels in my day, I’ve done lots of things way worse than hostels in my day,
and I have survived all of them. I’ve survived bathrooms that make me want to
gag (and I mean literally gag), beds where I’ve slept on a towel on top of the
covers as I didn’t want to touch any part of the actual bed, sharing rooms with
2-10 strangers, spiders, rats, odors, filth and rooms where I have opted not to
shower versus using the bathroom as I figured I would actually come out cleaner
that way. I’ve survived it all. And I know that I can do it. And now I’m over
it. Now I want clean, crisp sheets and hot water and a shower where I don’t
feel that I will contract an untreatable disease if I don’t wear flip flops
into it. I want natural light and wifi that doesn’t shut off and on every 3
minutes (again, I’m being literal) and to not have to turn the lights off at 11
and tiptoe and grope around in the dark after that so I don’t wake up my stranger
roommates. I don’t need 5-star luxury, but I also don’t want to contract
hepatitis by using a bathroom, either, so let it be known that my hostel days are
behind me! <o:p></o:p><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxeVxbWDtMyQn8tIAEc719dF03xvoTjZc1F3cYwPoLLSgsZ7-nfNFW1oZZJB0pk2IPq5BScLeV76Rgtw_qK4lOLz2LFYQKGbHohOk7L7YYZXxVWcgvnCVOU1jklTngqGZOW2P1uT9TpDb/s1600/P1070375-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxeVxbWDtMyQn8tIAEc719dF03xvoTjZc1F3cYwPoLLSgsZ7-nfNFW1oZZJB0pk2IPq5BScLeV76Rgtw_qK4lOLz2LFYQKGbHohOk7L7YYZXxVWcgvnCVOU1jklTngqGZOW2P1uT9TpDb/s320/P1070375-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>With good ol' Ekeko who, if you leave him a</em><br />
<em>small token, will grant your wish</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wmP9YuwEL1rz5gSGN65XRp-cetigli-oeiCCqSMPIH0pWaW81i40U9ozLG-AIMcBfUJR2fJg5xIYiuPhBfK6KonAF3yCMW9J4XMjaa1Av3JlQIFPF9EvUGgRGmPZT3itf60b5izKBLQl/s1600/P1070385-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wmP9YuwEL1rz5gSGN65XRp-cetigli-oeiCCqSMPIH0pWaW81i40U9ozLG-AIMcBfUJR2fJg5xIYiuPhBfK6KonAF3yCMW9J4XMjaa1Av3JlQIFPF9EvUGgRGmPZT3itf60b5izKBLQl/s320/P1070385-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Baby llamas. Say it together now: aaaaaahhh.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We went to see Juanita, a frozen Inca girl who was
discovered in the nearby mountains in 1995. She was offered as a sacrifice
to the mountain in hopes that it would appease it (the Incas considered mountains
gods) and it wouldn’t erupt and destroy their city. Since the discovery of
Juanita, there have been four other sacrificed children found, but not in such
freakishly good condition. It seems so barbaric, obviously, the idea of
sacrificing one’s own children but the children to be sacrificed were selected
at birth and spent their short lives knowing their destiny. But it was
considered an honor for the family, as well as for the child as it was believed
that they were essentially just being ushered in sooner to the afterlife, where
they would live with the gods. Today we think of it as barbaric and archaic and
yet I’ve been told that it still happens here in Peru, in remote tribes that
remain separated from modern society and over which the government has no
control. So perhaps not quite as archaic as we think…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzl6BOr7QIroc4l9h0ekAndPMaGFeOIx_CQUYM_D5Gfw6X7z6fyi9VqJ6Vx-5a2tyaQ3RZNh-ePoG7x0-nrXGfug2rgXOTapxAKHTSrheYaZeX6_u_ljjg6teF_ojfmnyPT0EvcxSrmDm/s1600/IMG_3019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzl6BOr7QIroc4l9h0ekAndPMaGFeOIx_CQUYM_D5Gfw6X7z6fyi9VqJ6Vx-5a2tyaQ3RZNh-ePoG7x0-nrXGfug2rgXOTapxAKHTSrheYaZeX6_u_ljjg6teF_ojfmnyPT0EvcxSrmDm/s320/IMG_3019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The Peruvian version of the clown car. I lost count </em><br />
<em>around 20 or so...</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Laura and I are both pretty committed to eating the local
food while in a place (Laura even more than me… she is the one who tried guinea
pig, after all) and we try to go the “real” venues such as local restaurants,
markets and street vendors. But we had heard about ChiCha, a 5-star restaurant
here run by a famous chef that we were told we just HAD to try, so we caved and
went all luxurious over lunch. Not only was everything totally scrumptious but
it turns out that you can get a 5-star meal here for about $20USD… double
score!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCOULKfbgZRHjTUUrkcA_OilqtQucrM6MkJsXoC8onKDvP33k7Gryf1M5Yf8uIlruGIlYMc_u0Mndhi0Czfh4KjexqBIkBjn3bnieN38FOPHPDgXmYcgzzGhHnPUVb0hsBCBkzoruNKmlK/s1600/P1070392-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCOULKfbgZRHjTUUrkcA_OilqtQucrM6MkJsXoC8onKDvP33k7Gryf1M5Yf8uIlruGIlYMc_u0Mndhi0Czfh4KjexqBIkBjn3bnieN38FOPHPDgXmYcgzzGhHnPUVb0hsBCBkzoruNKmlK/s320/P1070392-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Typical hillside neighborhood outside of the city</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
With (very) full bellies, we braved a tour of the city for
the afternoon. Arequipa is pretty big and there was a lot we hadn't seen yet so this was nice as it gave us a more complete picture of the place. It also got us out of the heart of the city, which I really liked. I'm good with cities for about a day or two but then, if on my own, always prefer to get out of them to see the outlying areas as I feel like that's where you see what a country is REALLY like, how the people actually live and what their lives really look like. And today we got to see some of that, how I think the majority of Peruvians actually live. I dig that. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO25ys7dq2SNiS3dAaP2Qmuko7UEzQCE01SuidGW4vwoEmNN76iAYddWEhgZof9BbxlAb5XBbyxRMg7755ujX2AHv8gzPUON67D0dldOOSe7b44pJJW_V7VJoW50qAzDANdJeC40vu139q/s1600/IMG_3044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO25ys7dq2SNiS3dAaP2Qmuko7UEzQCE01SuidGW4vwoEmNN76iAYddWEhgZof9BbxlAb5XBbyxRMg7755ujX2AHv8gzPUON67D0dldOOSe7b44pJJW_V7VJoW50qAzDANdJeC40vu139q/s320/IMG_3044.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>A man and his donkey</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And in the evening, the coolest (and for me the most unexpected) part of our whole trip began.
Laura’s friend Diana, who we met up with last night, has connections at the orphanage (her mom works there) that sends the children’s choir to the States
every year so she talked to them and they graciously welcomed Laura and I to stay with
them and share a bit in their daily lives here. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFM0XMecX2St72cTXClxhQlJAgE8EwbLgXh3qmDoCf60rrm2cQ_k2Oa5CvYsFVCgrP5oxVTmD8DKhnTbNfsFLsOUbeAlDK3Abfx3EDuCG-g2Wd4NSzyy7M2e6-gFlyf1c7xMiEvg-TOGS/s1600/IMG_3095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFM0XMecX2St72cTXClxhQlJAgE8EwbLgXh3qmDoCf60rrm2cQ_k2Oa5CvYsFVCgrP5oxVTmD8DKhnTbNfsFLsOUbeAlDK3Abfx3EDuCG-g2Wd4NSzyy7M2e6-gFlyf1c7xMiEvg-TOGS/s320/IMG_3095.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Typical houses on the outskirts of Arequipa. An interesting</em><br />
<em>note is that a LOT of buildings here never get around to </em><br />
<em>finishing the top floor. </em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There are 14 girls ranging in age from 4 to 22 and one
13-month old baby boy that live in the home and we had been told to expect a
non-stop “beehive of activity”. But we had no idea. The second we walked in the door, the girls
started coming up to us giving us besos (kisses) and hugs, jumping into our arms and all talking super
animatedly at the same time to us. And yet somehow it wasn’t even a little bit
overwhelming. I immediately loved being there and found the whole scene to be completely endearing and it made me want to do nothing but
sit and talk to each of them. Which is pretty much how the rest of the evening
went. It is these moments where I am most glad to be able to speak Spanish.
That I had the ability to sit and really talk to the girls, to laugh with them and
express genuine interest in their lives and to be able to answer their
questions about mine brings me unspeakable happiness. These are the moments I travel for.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRA6G9HoXymOLaRN8YR6aEGQ6C6mHq-Ijanwdue74RxL0ZYXTgeBQZ4psWaaqDb3sVSVaXdeJrDmcIwH46Y3WPBfva2gxds6bflObP0GU9WqBTnRj_AO-i8ejbod0Fufj7pdB6SUTfbEWR/s1600/IMG_3197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRA6G9HoXymOLaRN8YR6aEGQ6C6mHq-Ijanwdue74RxL0ZYXTgeBQZ4psWaaqDb3sVSVaXdeJrDmcIwH46Y3WPBfva2gxds6bflObP0GU9WqBTnRj_AO-i8ejbod0Fufj7pdB6SUTfbEWR/s320/IMG_3197.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Some of the sweet girls at the orphanage where we're</em><br />
<em>now staying</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyE2Ac1tglW5E1O7IZ-zWsqqoA-ytANxpzNjdKCoIJbqUS0BwYxqVSLmdmhRYJSwjAKczl-Yiqlc9-t87Z5SjCSX74ncru_SvQlZmtxPyfhZyF0OK_y93Ov1kRuGnU53Gp1INsBi3Ak5W/s1600/IMG_3200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyE2Ac1tglW5E1O7IZ-zWsqqoA-ytANxpzNjdKCoIJbqUS0BwYxqVSLmdmhRYJSwjAKczl-Yiqlc9-t87Z5SjCSX74ncru_SvQlZmtxPyfhZyF0OK_y93Ov1kRuGnU53Gp1INsBi3Ak5W/s320/IMG_3200.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>LtoR: Heidi, MariLuz, Papi Rick, Maria, Mama Sandra</em><br />
<em>y Elizabeth</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<em></em><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3z-TK2ffYXVOGb81SlBxRKwMONONJwumRPk43_bxEsH3fGRs7z0NVpnwjgMQJv9OwMNHE_TnbyBUYAiv4AW0AHU-9Y4dAimsxRzrC5uZYI6QNjA5EGQ3eGcW-EvF0AVVcjnwPRO-XuRrb/s1600/IMG_3201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><em><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3z-TK2ffYXVOGb81SlBxRKwMONONJwumRPk43_bxEsH3fGRs7z0NVpnwjgMQJv9OwMNHE_TnbyBUYAiv4AW0AHU-9Y4dAimsxRzrC5uZYI6QNjA5EGQ3eGcW-EvF0AVVcjnwPRO-XuRrb/s320/IMG_3201.JPG" width="320" /></em></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Maria, Mama Rosa y Dulce</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-10418042428770094222012-11-11T23:59:00.000-03:002012-11-15T23:41:43.755-03:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQc2cn1FFr1m4Nl_bYcVcYg6p2RvJbU6DzxLK-wc5cgUEtyqbBAuSorytbZUp8wNkjiXJEahfZ120hRoD49cIBIp6PrNj1Lcld-rjLGXymgJqeCATC1Q5ZZ0acsaWct8f5kKMObrtMWTbT/s1600/P1070339-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQc2cn1FFr1m4Nl_bYcVcYg6p2RvJbU6DzxLK-wc5cgUEtyqbBAuSorytbZUp8wNkjiXJEahfZ120hRoD49cIBIp6PrNj1Lcld-rjLGXymgJqeCATC1Q5ZZ0acsaWct8f5kKMObrtMWTbT/s320/P1070339-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>One of the streets within the monastery</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We continue our chill ways in Arequipa. This morning we had
a leisurely, and very late breakfast, in one of the most charming alleys I’ve
ever stumbled upon in South America. We walked to the local market, the truest
place to find out what and how the locals eat and to get a sense of the “real”
Arequipa (always make the local market your first stop as discovering the real
foods of a place gives you a lot insight to the culture). <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJ1cDYHApfeVKvQtOT1pnKPMH1wuO9ymm3Iv2gf-7jvKLmQOVlH7QkzUOKTvkSyVpVN_K5StzjlUa0senM0HrPIrBnCcUrf_lS1kozUEgSHgTeF3_ww8uP7c1cHsdmG_FlX6RKQEh6Dxx/s1600/P1070314-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJ1cDYHApfeVKvQtOT1pnKPMH1wuO9ymm3Iv2gf-7jvKLmQOVlH7QkzUOKTvkSyVpVN_K5StzjlUa0senM0HrPIrBnCcUrf_lS1kozUEgSHgTeF3_ww8uP7c1cHsdmG_FlX6RKQEh6Dxx/s320/P1070314-2.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
In the afternoon we checked out the Santa Catalina Monastery, which was
described as a “city within a city”. Have to admit, my first thought
when considering touring a monastery was a big, fat “Yawn”. But it was a
remarkably interesting thing to see the labyrinths of streets and alleys and
tiny passageways that really did make up a… wait for it…. city within a city. The
architecture and the colors they used were really beautiful and calming. But it
also never fails to defy my comprehension of just what about that life appealed
to the women of that day, the idea of giving up everything you know and
everyone you love and leaving them behind, knowing that you would never see
them again (as is how it was back in the day) so you could spend your days
living alone in a cold, stone “cell”. To me it seems like voluntarily admitting
yourself to prison but Laura said she could kind of understand it, craving that
sort of simplicity and uncomplicatedness (I know, that’s not a word) and
knowing that THIS thing is all you have to think about and set your focus on
for the rest of your days. Yeah, yeah. It remains a big, fat “No, gracias” from
me. (Even though it doesn’t seem quite so stringent these days as, no lie,
today we saw of group of 6 nuns walking around a place taking pictures with
their iPads. Uh, what was that about a vow of poverty?)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8GEEcmRNXC30WkswJUlUxZGijyOTSHadtTZKoBo4_in8QkNFadc1Os1Aeu5S6_1lKJUOBP63DmCppkxf0DJVk9aK3u8GJgZQCSqEg7pLiFt7R4XN7VqlVBfFi_FSyBxF7stI4rL79KU9/s1600/P1070344-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8GEEcmRNXC30WkswJUlUxZGijyOTSHadtTZKoBo4_in8QkNFadc1Os1Aeu5S6_1lKJUOBP63DmCppkxf0DJVk9aK3u8GJgZQCSqEg7pLiFt7R4XN7VqlVBfFi_FSyBxF7stI4rL79KU9/s320/P1070344-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>"A city within a city"... just as claimed!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />In the evening we finally met up with Laura’s friend, Diana.
Last year a group of orphans from Peru and Africa were formed into a choir and
toured the US for nearly a year. Laura volunteered as a chaperone for a few
months of their time in the States and Diana was the one who escorted the kids
from Peru. How nice for Laura to see a familiar face down here, especially one
she had shared such an intense experience with. We caught up over coffee and a
late dinner of traditional Peruvian food. So we have a local connection in
Arequipa… <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>¡</span>que bi<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span>n! <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpsD5LFfuiVM29mNLkhXosNVJNy0AtcJ6fJUp0D13gc42MtvY5DdxuLvsq5W9R30O4b7N1WrmZleTUm7vkfNtsY6pDl_HvpP2Uvj_z8cM0dSbmAnIBJmG1QoE1bSHedxbijlSwFPC5zIW/s1600/P1070345-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpsD5LFfuiVM29mNLkhXosNVJNy0AtcJ6fJUp0D13gc42MtvY5DdxuLvsq5W9R30O4b7N1WrmZleTUm7vkfNtsY6pDl_HvpP2Uvj_z8cM0dSbmAnIBJmG1QoE1bSHedxbijlSwFPC5zIW/s320/P1070345-2.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASbg22RofEJD4RD4P8GBNAAP-avKz_nNGcNI0dRAmGpP8nF6nkxEccvKyLoK6m7NG6JvfSqXYw6f56e7R9xTEfva41Qz9RpTY5hUFbiW5reNTZUzME7efYCMyKyzOi6Z7k0HGn9_9FNyI/s1600/IMG_2826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASbg22RofEJD4RD4P8GBNAAP-avKz_nNGcNI0dRAmGpP8nF6nkxEccvKyLoK6m7NG6JvfSqXYw6f56e7R9xTEfva41Qz9RpTY5hUFbiW5reNTZUzME7efYCMyKyzOi6Z7k0HGn9_9FNyI/s320/IMG_2826.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_cpq-obXwU9HwNK1NFFeOgIit0nE0-vjDGHCeJzUB7LTXQlhj7qRxI6Z633qBEia_b937IWSZvGeJQ5a5Jx_BF1mqpi6orhXluFzAFfl4NPZLgujsj6ZLa7huAMj5vazEoTE89yg_bG_L/s1600/P1070331-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_cpq-obXwU9HwNK1NFFeOgIit0nE0-vjDGHCeJzUB7LTXQlhj7qRxI6Z633qBEia_b937IWSZvGeJQ5a5Jx_BF1mqpi6orhXluFzAFfl4NPZLgujsj6ZLa7huAMj5vazEoTE89yg_bG_L/s320/P1070331-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>One of the nun's "cells", although I think they're preeetty </em><br />
<em>nice, as cells go</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJ3b3X-WRibs8PRWrcCY55xlzpuDN0m-YgzmaVJIMR3m5QwI71nhfhT7d3teMtv3-Uj8AwEnyuT5hcGnnQ8kHUQV_BjhmCIWbiJGHVpI62LgOhdOI4BcxU6QRlrftvC_43Sj8X31ouG0r/s1600/P1070351-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJ3b3X-WRibs8PRWrcCY55xlzpuDN0m-YgzmaVJIMR3m5QwI71nhfhT7d3teMtv3-Uj8AwEnyuT5hcGnnQ8kHUQV_BjhmCIWbiJGHVpI62LgOhdOI4BcxU6QRlrftvC_43Sj8X31ouG0r/s320/P1070351-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Steps to nowhere</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Z6KChU2fO5RCwMpeSIgzwDkW15WtjKXBfFSGhb7reJyapbci48p7b4Jxo93kFgTUSTklzgsPAceVOpbhBkP0KMVOzzOWZhpan5d9hD6xLxx1Uoo5bpigHbH9yCtKQpZ5UHPrPKiXDO2J/s1600/P1070363-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Z6KChU2fO5RCwMpeSIgzwDkW15WtjKXBfFSGhb7reJyapbci48p7b4Jxo93kFgTUSTklzgsPAceVOpbhBkP0KMVOzzOWZhpan5d9hD6xLxx1Uoo5bpigHbH9yCtKQpZ5UHPrPKiXDO2J/s320/P1070363-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Laura and her Peruvian friend, Diana</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-69016319765409080182012-11-10T23:53:00.000-03:002012-11-12T02:32:51.749-03:00La Ciudad Blanca (The White City)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrIb5S7SMSYrb67kTx-rhj8GUSdHtoDiZeqgYxnaGpOnMj6lIMsn4cipuYinMZP9zv-GSF8igrQ7CUDWEYAyM3LtexmRa_Y_ypm70-LRk8sQSsCw457oCvbOAjouR4b38-c3lhsTZcaFk/s1600/P1070283-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrIb5S7SMSYrb67kTx-rhj8GUSdHtoDiZeqgYxnaGpOnMj6lIMsn4cipuYinMZP9zv-GSF8igrQ7CUDWEYAyM3LtexmRa_Y_ypm70-LRk8sQSsCw457oCvbOAjouR4b38-c3lhsTZcaFk/s320/P1070283-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Two ladies came up to us and asked if they could take</em><br />
<em>pictures with us, giggling all the while. It was India all over!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Cusco is officially a thing of the past. After one last
chill morning there yesterday, Laura and I boarded a plane headed farther south
to Peru’s second largest city, Arequipa. We arrived in the evening and headed
to the house of our latest couchsurfer: Fernando. Somehow, no matter how many
times I do it, it never quite ceases to amaze that you just show up at some
total stranger’s house and they just let you in to crash in their place.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpDmmhy51elYvMp8XKEHKw1B_0_81SYCMU1hf-6B0IFcqAT5yNCnjpBG3vbxKYiMsbUM7dEvfRbOhKiWb-SPK8Vm7qDqVxcFeVuaucORPkmO_fi1enYN-U3pvEwJ4wWQEXrCaYxugBaBS/s1600/P1070284-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpDmmhy51elYvMp8XKEHKw1B_0_81SYCMU1hf-6B0IFcqAT5yNCnjpBG3vbxKYiMsbUM7dEvfRbOhKiWb-SPK8Vm7qDqVxcFeVuaucORPkmO_fi1enYN-U3pvEwJ4wWQEXrCaYxugBaBS/s320/P1070284-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>So not only does Peru have its own beer, so do several of the</em><br />
<em>cities here. And, always the good tourist, I am committed</em><br />
<em>to trying each and every one!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Even though Cusco had a population of around 325,000 people,
it somehow still felt small and cozy. Arriving in Arequipa, the second largest
city in Peru with a population 900,000, was a momentary shock. I like small and
cozy when in other countries as I think that’s where you get the truest sense
of what a place is really like. Just think, if someone were to come to the US
and only visit New York City, would they really know what “real” life in
America is like, how the average family really lives? Either way, Arequipa seems
to be a lovely city so far and well deserving of its nickname “La Cuidad Blanca”
(The White City) because most of the buildings are, well, white. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGIlmPphghil-_sFIbWrN7bR7muKa6WUEaPgCk5bwLV-1UYmp6QPIC_NxscAoX7CqR1Dmdz1XCPNAuW0hm2osfCulePLdrsDwaAIl5N4OnLg3WRlTwO6XGk8GE1bTACWZHh9fGEs7PdRW/s1600/P1070289-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGIlmPphghil-_sFIbWrN7bR7muKa6WUEaPgCk5bwLV-1UYmp6QPIC_NxscAoX7CqR1Dmdz1XCPNAuW0hm2osfCulePLdrsDwaAIl5N4OnLg3WRlTwO6XGk8GE1bTACWZHh9fGEs7PdRW/s320/P1070289-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The cathedral in the main plaza in Arequipa</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Today we did a bit of exploration while acclimating
ourselves to our new surroundings. We were supposed to meet a friend of Laura’s
in the morning but that fell through so we were left to our own devices to
figure things out. Cue lots of coffee, a lunch overlooking the main plaza, a
tour of the main cathedral in town and some more coffee, and that was about it.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIJa933nJng-NRecAvdSyted0Cuo8sYP813kfTc_tMJ-hQA2V95U_Jypgv1SB0imjVylE8R6ExtJJan9PCc1-tgHSizAktbfBkOn651n80p5r3ek8DiOyay3-o7VdBHuOG3eTK0qRZkXm/s1600/P1070292-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIJa933nJng-NRecAvdSyted0Cuo8sYP813kfTc_tMJ-hQA2V95U_Jypgv1SB0imjVylE8R6ExtJJan9PCc1-tgHSizAktbfBkOn651n80p5r3ek8DiOyay3-o7VdBHuOG3eTK0qRZkXm/s320/P1070292-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Inside said cathedral</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We headed back to Fernando’s for a little nappie-poo with
plans of heading out again later in the evening. And then two more couchsurfers
from France showed up so we ended up spending time hanging out with them,
shooting the breeze. Turns out there was a street party going on to celebrate the
anniversary of the neighborhood plaza so we all headed over. The music was
pretty terrible (some sort of bizarre Japanese rock, which left the Peruvian
crowd standing pretty stone cold) but it did provide one our coolest and most
authentic Peruvian experiences to date: <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61PvVVn7V9dxNpwQiZC-a10_lFRFKGlQNbThOcjObafDRoNUi7klrFJfdRzL2K3S58FRgTReXcYlvhKHVhrSwlkFr5lWELv0YobhSb1qYEN4lHx7SwYJx3V03qWSvTCmPVoYr7ogo0V4a/s1600/IMG_2744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61PvVVn7V9dxNpwQiZC-a10_lFRFKGlQNbThOcjObafDRoNUi7klrFJfdRzL2K3S58FRgTReXcYlvhKHVhrSwlkFr5lWELv0YobhSb1qYEN4lHx7SwYJx3V03qWSvTCmPVoYr7ogo0V4a/s320/IMG_2744.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The bell atop the cathedral</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In one of the buildings on the plaza, we noticed what looked
like some kind of abandoned space that was filled with several “street vendors”
selling various kinds of homemade foods, mostly meat and potatoes on sticks. At
another table was a lady selling some sort of “spiked” hot tea. There was a
long row of picnic tables and you just squeezed in wherever you could fit,
squeezed in among a big crowd of locals, many of whom took interest in us and
struck up casual conversations. In true South American style, there was some
chaos to it all (the good kind of chaos) but the food was real and cheap, the
drinks were hot and spiked and the company and the experience were both as
authentically Peruvian as it gets. And THAT is the stuff I travel for. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CS3kq_cBsr6bS_pPybpKTeTvNH-a3L2uAeHzIVzzY0CNzyGbN_LPpr-k_I-CTj5-SNXa-AOr0aNAUcEL3Bv9LkBBSMVyhUMhTzHBWKnma1RW6Lwv8hRTog_KWXGtvrdcuGuVTOXTQtnc/s1600/P1070295-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CS3kq_cBsr6bS_pPybpKTeTvNH-a3L2uAeHzIVzzY0CNzyGbN_LPpr-k_I-CTj5-SNXa-AOr0aNAUcEL3Bv9LkBBSMVyhUMhTzHBWKnma1RW6Lwv8hRTog_KWXGtvrdcuGuVTOXTQtnc/s320/P1070295-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The view from atop the cathedral</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi35KJQp58On8l8y8H-yXq7o03ehGgTCis1SB6DLK3TyrrpKX-iN5nXGVJf2Dgm48jcqL2V_RDRtzebwgfEZU0jRE1ytsBEZT2DJ8SggI4QzwAp_XrqCbsLAg9sHSw6CSuvWTuX6LFRZ9r9/s1600/P1070298-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi35KJQp58On8l8y8H-yXq7o03ehGgTCis1SB6DLK3TyrrpKX-iN5nXGVJf2Dgm48jcqL2V_RDRtzebwgfEZU0jRE1ytsBEZT2DJ8SggI4QzwAp_XrqCbsLAg9sHSw6CSuvWTuX6LFRZ9r9/s320/P1070298-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Me in front of the cathedral door.... you get </em><br />
<em>the idea.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguVB_LIihejnXbYlCDC1KFEfN_cPBv7TkWAztNtt53UzALl6t9DzZBwo_2lpWnmPTEznnOQgi_DKl-J9OLfa4TH2zFnZRXxa6OdmbRzLxKZvezI6OfygObcqLTcspALOZgm0KFd1noaNH/s1600/IMG_2767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguVB_LIihejnXbYlCDC1KFEfN_cPBv7TkWAztNtt53UzALl6t9DzZBwo_2lpWnmPTEznnOQgi_DKl-J9OLfa4TH2zFnZRXxa6OdmbRzLxKZvezI6OfygObcqLTcspALOZgm0KFd1noaNH/s320/IMG_2767.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Coolest Peruvian dinner ever, with our fellow couchsurfers, </em><br />
<em>Olivier and Elisse</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-13560270336564068082012-11-08T23:58:00.000-03:002012-11-11T02:24:16.635-03:00Chillin' in Cusco <div style="text-align: left;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucyTgB76Nb8-DoWsG1Pxcu3RJCxzkMWykaw9p0FxCkRs5mIh0szht0OtQnm5YW63onhbx_BCF4lR_tPfslORLRIeNG9K-qmmm7idcd1IJe7hOBI3KfqtfAvx-AadtJXDb8MX1zZigb8Sf/s1600/P1070271-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucyTgB76Nb8-DoWsG1Pxcu3RJCxzkMWykaw9p0FxCkRs5mIh0szht0OtQnm5YW63onhbx_BCF4lR_tPfslORLRIeNG9K-qmmm7idcd1IJe7hOBI3KfqtfAvx-AadtJXDb8MX1zZigb8Sf/s320/P1070271-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Scenes like this abound. I only wish there were</em><br />
<em>some way to </em><em>capture them all.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Gotta be honest, there hasn’t been very much exciting stuff
going on these past couple of days. After all the excitement and action and
movement that was Machu Picchu, we decided we would spend our remaining days in
Cusco taking it easy. And take it easy we did. </div>
<br />
Wednesday I slept in a bit while Lili and Laura toured some
churches, then we found a great little mom-and-pop restaurant for lunch, we
meandered a bit, did some shopping, hit up a chocolate factory, more meandering
and then a very nice dinner for Lili’s last night in Peru. And that was
literally all we did. Literally.<br />
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQuFG_8FyXUokZljJ_I9lT2uSl9C5RTX_OSgS0hT_CfQ4Onq0dgt_A-Uh5JtMWL2eaFMqbO2n2Dug5MgZwWslZIldOtXq6Xvty4KR4sFSWYuaJxYuSlJNR_f7aY7WpH3RI3AVEUfxyB5h/s1600/P1070273-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQuFG_8FyXUokZljJ_I9lT2uSl9C5RTX_OSgS0hT_CfQ4Onq0dgt_A-Uh5JtMWL2eaFMqbO2n2Dug5MgZwWslZIldOtXq6Xvty4KR4sFSWYuaJxYuSlJNR_f7aY7WpH3RI3AVEUfxyB5h/s320/P1070273-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Sometimes it's the little things that amuse</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thursday we did a little more shopping so Lili could make
sure to have all of her gift bases covered, and then we escorted her to the
airport. Turns out that one of us has a “real” job and had to be back in the
US. So instead of being the Three Amigas, we are now back to being the dynamic
duo. <br />
<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgK5yApUBbRTcu_oLSjxr-jWaMNpPO5InJcFT4BYMPajwJLyQp0th8uewYtPp8IKwNvotuliGZnbF12ThP_lDO8kzTQw1-Zgv5QVnQsNMcp6CT1SmPBH43zXUeV2rIgGYUVnziGZrIAvD/s1600/P1070276-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgK5yApUBbRTcu_oLSjxr-jWaMNpPO5InJcFT4BYMPajwJLyQp0th8uewYtPp8IKwNvotuliGZnbF12ThP_lDO8kzTQw1-Zgv5QVnQsNMcp6CT1SmPBH43zXUeV2rIgGYUVnziGZrIAvD/s320/P1070276-2.jpg" width="240" /></a>After dropping Lili off at the airport, Laura and I decided the
best use of the afternoon would be to get massages. This was my second of the
trip and, while not the best massage I’ve ever had, at $8 a pop, who can
complain? Indian food for dinner (go figure) and back to the hotel for the
night.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
And that is exactly how lame we are. But I guess it’s okay
to have some down time while traveling (despite my inner voice screaming that I
MUST use every minute of a vacation to the fullest). These past couple of days I’ve
hardly taken any pictures as we haven’t done much and yet I somehow feel that’s
a good sign, in a strange way. It means I’ve started to connect to this place,
to feel like less of a tourist (even though I obviously still totally am) and
to just BE here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFc8_xLKlA5BrUOb8zkzBjqvM3RsHkFvUtlu-9ytfzlqupzGAFoDMpwU7GUvmZkd5MCNaTcDMbwWdI3I1JoYJ48JFjOlLopr74_lZUSWaBpPBo4B4lI50XTVpuhWiR39FQr3gSfJG9UmOY/s1600/P1070278-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFc8_xLKlA5BrUOb8zkzBjqvM3RsHkFvUtlu-9ytfzlqupzGAFoDMpwU7GUvmZkd5MCNaTcDMbwWdI3I1JoYJ48JFjOlLopr74_lZUSWaBpPBo4B4lI50XTVpuhWiR39FQr3gSfJG9UmOY/s320/P1070278-2.jpg" width="320" /></a>Since I’ve been the one of the three of us who can speak
Spanish, I always end up in the front seat of the taxis we regularly take (you
take taxis absolutely everywhere here). And more often than not, I end up
having conversations with the drivers. In a cab in the US, you mostly sit in
the back and there’s no conversation with the cabbie. But here, where it’s such
a relational culture, you sit in the front seat (you also do this even if you
are the only one in the cab, which took my American mind a moment to adjust to)
and 95% of the time the cab drivers strike up conversations about where you’re
from, what you’re doing here, etc. <o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKx2I7CdC0n8ChtoHe8_qbctVP680gg-_SRKoSGuDNmqfwa6AzVCxmHENsUo863AteeXBNVk-o64hYOZridcIN7J-4ZSY2AhqzEt-lnyqt12uC5xuwt4Zw0hnXaQJdm5dxx9gQ9SMIfZk/s1600/P1070281-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKx2I7CdC0n8ChtoHe8_qbctVP680gg-_SRKoSGuDNmqfwa6AzVCxmHENsUo863AteeXBNVk-o64hYOZridcIN7J-4ZSY2AhqzEt-lnyqt12uC5xuwt4Zw0hnXaQJdm5dxx9gQ9SMIfZk/s320/P1070281-2.jpg" width="320" /></a>And in this way I have learned a lot about life in Peru. I’ve
learned facts and figures, I’ve learned about what we should and shouldn’t do
while here, I’ve learned cultural tidbits and I’ve learned lots of history
about the country. But the coolest thing I’ve learned is that I love the people
of Peru. I love that they genuinely take an interest in the people visiting
their towns and that they love their country and can speak about it with such
pride. And mostly I love how, not only are they just doing their job and
getting me from place to place, they show such interest in their fellow man and
in being so genuinely kind and helpful and friendly while doing so. I love how obvious
it is that relationships come first here and how, even from such a simple thing
as sharing a cab with a stranger, I am growing to love this country.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVmFQW_ypg2Ib59mE7SkNxxdDkIljPgdaliDEsqCdcpoODel5nPQrXE11xiOqUgKPAF5uFf_7xSirjiwVwyLAUmebRQL_jSYkM51BPmYdhutCwfjh9vKAVVzHlgA_Us_WF_SphCvujsu3/s1600/P1070282-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVmFQW_ypg2Ib59mE7SkNxxdDkIljPgdaliDEsqCdcpoODel5nPQrXE11xiOqUgKPAF5uFf_7xSirjiwVwyLAUmebRQL_jSYkM51BPmYdhutCwfjh9vKAVVzHlgA_Us_WF_SphCvujsu3/s320/P1070282-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br />
And now, on a completely different note, in honor of our
friend Lili who sadly had to leave us today, I give you a couple of my favorite
expressions of hers. She is idiomatically challenged and we laughed an awful
lot about both the ones she botched and the ones she just plain made up. Sure
wish I could remember them all as there were some definite classics along the
way. But these ones stuck with me: <o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“You can give a horse water but it still won’t drink”<br />
“It’s as blurry as a cat’s eye!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
“It was as scratchy as a cat’s ass"<br />
<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrVCjkGVj3MgNfBpLQuDdGqs0_gLXqvxaXRNfzJ-RmMioWBtc1To-u9RCBjsR1V8gZ5zW20uzCkslmGrT414MZqrJP1O3A3Hz-IS0XIkYje5dTBFHM12QGotz5ZX_hUUpd72jfObwWaJs/s1600/IMG_2724+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrVCjkGVj3MgNfBpLQuDdGqs0_gLXqvxaXRNfzJ-RmMioWBtc1To-u9RCBjsR1V8gZ5zW20uzCkslmGrT414MZqrJP1O3A3Hz-IS0XIkYje5dTBFHM12QGotz5ZX_hUUpd72jfObwWaJs/s320/IMG_2724+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Lili's last dinner in Cusco</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We also enjoyed the lightbulb moment when we cleared up what
“Hindsight is 20/20” actually means (even though she’d been using it for years)
as well applauding when, on top of Machu Picchu, she properly used the
expression “It’s a sight for sore eyes”. We shall miss you and your endearing lack of
ability to properly use idioms, Lili von B!</div>
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-71071788611228879432012-11-06T23:59:00.000-03:002012-11-15T22:09:34.422-03:00Machu Picchu or Bust!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis10GxsxTBfzFHtMxQrBR_rR3n9cVQFGEeNRSWFYf2eCVa3WuN-EaDpsTMWdNKUa2XZjbXWM5YIxZVhcuLI8YVAn1y3hlyVoi_cQISkxNFr60DlVWBDKc3Bchp7p0tmBHlYzyUF7FYLetd/s1600/P1070072-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis10GxsxTBfzFHtMxQrBR_rR3n9cVQFGEeNRSWFYf2eCVa3WuN-EaDpsTMWdNKUa2XZjbXWM5YIxZVhcuLI8YVAn1y3hlyVoi_cQISkxNFr60DlVWBDKc3Bchp7p0tmBHlYzyUF7FYLetd/s320/P1070072-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Typical street in Ollantaytambu</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Laura came to Peru to visit friends. Lili came to Peru for a
fun week with friends in a new place. I came to Peru to go to Machu Picchu. And
today was the day! I’ve been wanting to get there for years and it was one of
those experiences that after seeing so many pictures of it and thinking about
it and reading up on it for so long, it almost seemed surreal once I was
actually standing there. <br />
<br />
Considering that Machu Picchu is THE thing to do in Peru,
and what brings most tourists (as well as their money) to the country, you
would think that there would be some simple, logical way to get there. And yet,
not so much. After talking to lots of people and getting lots of conflicting information
about both prices and modes of travel, we decided to figure it out ourselves.
Think you could just go to one place to make all the reservations? Nooo, no,
no. That would be far too easy and this is South America, after all! We spent
Monday morning running around Cusco buying our actual park tickets in one
place, our train tickets in another, our bus in yet another…. but we figured it
all out and were out of Cusco and on our way by lunchtime. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvBv-972SRVUtUOBB3p5jGrgmGx0DAYtO2GSnIbhPPky1-kUDMralGNzMFWitRGAhokcWDyq68dL4lB0nBBH-PNzK1nwVB44jAmRmQzpPnIzXjA72i3saYZ786zsRanZGEIuI8sKk3Er-/s1600/DSCN0519-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvBv-972SRVUtUOBB3p5jGrgmGx0DAYtO2GSnIbhPPky1-kUDMralGNzMFWitRGAhokcWDyq68dL4lB0nBBH-PNzK1nwVB44jAmRmQzpPnIzXjA72i3saYZ786zsRanZGEIuI8sKk3Er-/s320/DSCN0519-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>For not being a kid person, I do seem to find kids in other</em><br />
<em>countries pretty darn cute </em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
We took a bus to a town about halfway between Cusco and
Machu Picchu that we had been told was definitely worth the stop. The bus in
and of itself was an adventure where it was one of those things where you go to
the actual bus station to buy your ticket but then some random guy with a van
approaches you and offers you a shared ride with others (which seems a tad iffy
but I knew was legit from previous experience). So before we knew it we were
crammed into a van with 11 other strangers, bouncing along through really lovely
countryside. Another amusing sidenote about the buses here: they don’t leave at
a set time (nothing here happens at a set time) but they leave when they’re
full. So you can get in and leave in 5 minutes, or you could get in one and
leave in 45 minutes. Always good to keep a book handy in South America….</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD0FyWf-ciu1JP8fo5LHmaiOkZW40Px4iI00gAolvVsxOPV0FMBuBEnt704c59kcOFDXV0IcuFkpWSvxZYSNgPqYtr3Ava5V2b3U5Z9K2phOkS9QfyUh5aWFMu5NoL3vO63Y1Zi3zM1ZHV/s1600/P1070094-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD0FyWf-ciu1JP8fo5LHmaiOkZW40Px4iI00gAolvVsxOPV0FMBuBEnt704c59kcOFDXV0IcuFkpWSvxZYSNgPqYtr3Ava5V2b3U5Z9K2phOkS9QfyUh5aWFMu5NoL3vO63Y1Zi3zM1ZHV/s320/P1070094-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>My frustration at not being able to pronounce</em><br />
<em>the town name of Ollantaytambo</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
We arrived to Ollantaytambo (a town name I STILL cannot
pronounce properly, no matter how many times Lili quizzes me on it) and spent
the afternoon poking around along the cobblestone streets and small aqueducts
running through the city. There are also some famous Inca ruins there, which we
thought we would just quickly check out since we had some extra time on our
hands, only to find out the admission price was MORE than that of Machu Picchu.
So, yeah, we’ll hold off til the main event, thank you. We had the worst
restaurant experience of our time thus far in Peru, but it was balanced out by
offering the best view we’ve had so far. We also had the BEST coffee in Peru
and took an unexpected tuk-tuk ride to the train station. Less than 2 hours later
and we were in… </div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_4L9k3UY6XRjmZg5ywuRGc5Wgcvfo6afJLnuRP7CGwUtzj7_BKTYX3em_zBj0Jh89qGS7VsuHs2YsPibKiKDuLIhw5dW1B63RYr_WtfysFEBL1ZNSCNqdzsYih9w4GkSerh_c9Tu607i/s1600/P1070105-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_4L9k3UY6XRjmZg5ywuRGc5Wgcvfo6afJLnuRP7CGwUtzj7_BKTYX3em_zBj0Jh89qGS7VsuHs2YsPibKiKDuLIhw5dW1B63RYr_WtfysFEBL1ZNSCNqdzsYih9w4GkSerh_c9Tu607i/s320/P1070105-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Look how perky we are at 4 am!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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… Aguas Calientes, the town at the base of Machu Picchu and
the jumping off point for about a million tourists to get up the mountain. Once
Machu Picchu became a huge tourist destination, the town of Aguas Calientes was
created specifically to house tourists on their way to the site. So it’s only
the train station, hostels, restaurants and shops. And tons o’ tourists. But
the second you walk out of the train station, you realize you are entombed on
every side with massive mountains that don’t slope, but rather jet STRAIGHT up
all around you. We arrived at night and it was momentarily creepy to feel to
closed in but it provides a really incredible scene during the day, a tiny
little town set in the valley and completely surrounded by such majestic
mountains. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqA6hnyjVG1bWY8u4BY1zrI-bdYvvkluHDpc_-NIGjemAzSXj6jcg1oADxhtozCzMJJf6eV1HPYK-n7st5aY6yYymhpJdAhqvyuAtalpnX_A_W5lfUlPMXzFz4huZhp70rIyz5nQaei01T/s1600/P1070110-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqA6hnyjVG1bWY8u4BY1zrI-bdYvvkluHDpc_-NIGjemAzSXj6jcg1oADxhtozCzMJJf6eV1HPYK-n7st5aY6yYymhpJdAhqvyuAtalpnX_A_W5lfUlPMXzFz4huZhp70rIyz5nQaei01T/s320/P1070110-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Just chillin' with a 6-day-old llama at Machu Picchu.</em><br />
<em>You know.</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Since I’d been waiting so long to get there and since it was
my one and only shot, I wanted to be on the first bus of the day to the top,
hoping we would be able to see the sun rise while we were up there, and to beat
the crowds. So we dragged our sorry butts out of bed at 3:45 am, had breakfast
(all hotels there offer breakfast starting at 4:30 as so many tourists do the
exact same thing), bought our bus tickets and made the first bus as planned!
And we did beat the crowds… but we did not see the sun rise. Doh! The day was
super hazy and there was no official sunrise to speak of, it just got kind of
gradually light. But, hey, we were in Machu Picchu so all was well!</div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoiTh0fpx0iP9qWvA5V3ZBc1KBsFhr4ByPSafLk8pOV0453R9MIADl6iuESYFLsilx5EQaVzZcejKcDA_6dwmPvW4uyITXogFHERYNc7HUYQUi_gg7sNbPIFs9kIf5KbJSNrd8_a32Wx61/s1600/P1070126-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoiTh0fpx0iP9qWvA5V3ZBc1KBsFhr4ByPSafLk8pOV0453R9MIADl6iuESYFLsilx5EQaVzZcejKcDA_6dwmPvW4uyITXogFHERYNc7HUYQUi_gg7sNbPIFs9kIf5KbJSNrd8_a32Wx61/s320/P1070126-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The levels where the Incas grew their crops</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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There are several theories as to why the city of Machu
Picchu was built: for the Incan emporer, as a residence for the noble families
in the area, as a place to keep the most beautiful women of the time, or as a
religious site. However, most agree that it might have been some combination of
all of them: built for Emporer Pachacuti while having religious parts to it, as
well as being a residential city and a farming community that supported about
150 or so upper echelon families. It was incredible to walk through the ruins
and try to imagine real families living there, not just caricatures of people.
To think of couples making homes there, children running around playing in the
grassy areas, friends gathering, people working the fields and the community
gathering for religious ceremonies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TFOMxcs9RrwDe4Y8iPeWsztqBExqrhHNOz_mF_gjRJFWWVD6wwzi_BTPG5szpBX4FfIbq4LgQogwrC-DMkOzhf2nDhIE5VXqILziXxSPUBA_6fZrnHDZDNZfvMDqZbmQJOJ0DjJjXKGi/s1600/P1070139-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TFOMxcs9RrwDe4Y8iPeWsztqBExqrhHNOz_mF_gjRJFWWVD6wwzi_BTPG5szpBX4FfIbq4LgQogwrC-DMkOzhf2nDhIE5VXqILziXxSPUBA_6fZrnHDZDNZfvMDqZbmQJOJ0DjJjXKGi/s320/P1070139-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Construction is thought to have started around 1400, but the
city was abandoned about 100 years later as a result of the Spanish Conquest.
They say that the only reason it still remains is because the Spanish never
found the city and so were unable to destroy it, as they did so many other things
at the time. In fact, ever since that time it has always been known to locals
but only came to global recognition in 1911, when an American historian
discovered it and published about it. </div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8u2aNCFCGnGmc3kSQ3cydcb44ZUeyKGeXapOl5vRI16wDDShQdH5Y0knIkBAHB0OKjY6jJ42Sp8SduLtp1rtSZW-Mb2tmTXdxvmdvXKVisEwKzx3-uPSR0sWKOhk3tj8evrAN-Cve_GDR/s1600/P1070141-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8u2aNCFCGnGmc3kSQ3cydcb44ZUeyKGeXapOl5vRI16wDDShQdH5Y0knIkBAHB0OKjY6jJ42Sp8SduLtp1rtSZW-Mb2tmTXdxvmdvXKVisEwKzx3-uPSR0sWKOhk3tj8evrAN-Cve_GDR/s320/P1070141-2.jpg" width="240" /></a>We hiked up, we hiked down, we hiked through it, we sat for
long periods and soaked it all in. We took a coffee break and then hiked up and
down some more. We saw houses, religious sites, the fields where they grew the
food that kept them alive and the place where they figured out astronomy and
how the seasons worked. While I think it’s easy to assume that people from way
back when were less smart than people today, I’m pretty sure it’s actually the
other way around. To see what they created, the ingenuity they showed with such
basic means is actually mind-blowing.</div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPM_Bzi8ceA8ZqU-moJA19J62CAvcMF6VmKi3dbHy-i_PB2POfbwvvjsKV_3FMUOuM4yNh9Ls8S1iI34rGsp1k4INVENrWktmhbK_nbKjNtk3kJvmiDCXj9WNvxP8vEowaI_pshbD3aWH/s1600/P1070144-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPM_Bzi8ceA8ZqU-moJA19J62CAvcMF6VmKi3dbHy-i_PB2POfbwvvjsKV_3FMUOuM4yNh9Ls8S1iI34rGsp1k4INVENrWktmhbK_nbKjNtk3kJvmiDCXj9WNvxP8vEowaI_pshbD3aWH/s320/P1070144-2.jpg" width="320" /></a>We figured that while it was hazy, we would go around and learn
things about the different areas and then by the time we were done with that,
it would have cleared up and we could take our magnificent, postcard-worthy
pictures we had come here for. We waited all morning… and then the haze finally
lifted and we could see such amazing things!…. and then it started to rain. A
lot. We tried to wait it out over coffee, but no. The ONE day that it has
rained steadily here… doh!! But I decided that I was soldiering on and was
going to get the most out of my one day at Machu Picchu. So we walked around in
the rain and took pictures in the rain and never really got THAT amazing view
of Machu Picchu that I had hoped for. And yet I can’t complain because I was
still standing in one of the most awesome places that I have ever been in my
whole life.</div>
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlujyhknXAYf13ahUzvjGNZezHvTPouRBpydXQKov_rtkle2MJXBrDDvKn5d9XMjn0eejDBKQl20YG0HHzpB5O2kOn9G8CnakI0ugvii1pF1ujCqejhiI7eQXaRU_A8uOBJiNzXs__qEQ/s1600/P1070157-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlujyhknXAYf13ahUzvjGNZezHvTPouRBpydXQKov_rtkle2MJXBrDDvKn5d9XMjn0eejDBKQl20YG0HHzpB5O2kOn9G8CnakI0ugvii1pF1ujCqejhiI7eQXaRU_A8uOBJiNzXs__qEQ/s320/P1070157-2.jpg" width="320" /></a>We decided that on the way back, we were going to hike down
instead of take the bus. So we walked down 2,000 feet and thousands of stairs
through the jungle path back down to Aguas Calientes. Despite the points where
my legs actually felt like Jello, it was an awesome way to descend from the
mountain and something I’m so glad we did.<br />
<br />
So while our fellow Americans were back home electing a
president, we were hiking Inca trails and exploring the ruins of their amazing
ancient city. If you have to miss an election, can’t think of a much better
reason to do so!<o:p></o:p></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdZcbl330QLd5OILb-Nyk2V_d5Tqq5Wmxy3zgSi0CHq-1P1HdH3mxo10p9WXVq4PC5VXBKXeVsGJgpQ08PNk6Y3oP83w_J1_JagO4uCRb0pg_VGX1j7k12qMFbYYl1XA86o5ZLypF6aFg/s1600/P1070165-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdZcbl330QLd5OILb-Nyk2V_d5Tqq5Wmxy3zgSi0CHq-1P1HdH3mxo10p9WXVq4PC5VXBKXeVsGJgpQ08PNk6Y3oP83w_J1_JagO4uCRb0pg_VGX1j7k12qMFbYYl1XA86o5ZLypF6aFg/s320/P1070165-2.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BObDvMukk4jZNZJgx6uJ2WO5eTpHOoe-TXOsmsB0BrSs0Nj-bYhpQk74xKth0qPBrNQbhvSur-RrWZlOhM-k70DBDMxBhnrt_kHO8snA4CFo9g_ZkXQ3C73XiMvlgm_bakL9lD0DWt5A/s1600/P1070215-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BObDvMukk4jZNZJgx6uJ2WO5eTpHOoe-TXOsmsB0BrSs0Nj-bYhpQk74xKth0qPBrNQbhvSur-RrWZlOhM-k70DBDMxBhnrt_kHO8snA4CFo9g_ZkXQ3C73XiMvlgm_bakL9lD0DWt5A/s320/P1070215-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>On the long, beautiful hike down</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoA_fap4YKHgpXtmDzw8N_9T0jS9MO9tgDBe2chLYTsKeaPjJ47LKnsbpMkSy2hoEdEjy47lIg42NvzyMHi3XDREjx7cY7IvUevEU8tGHnwFeG1NMpyc97OxV6FpniBC2MULBMIGYzzeS/s1600/P1070257-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoA_fap4YKHgpXtmDzw8N_9T0jS9MO9tgDBe2chLYTsKeaPjJ47LKnsbpMkSy2hoEdEjy47lIg42NvzyMHi3XDREjx7cY7IvUevEU8tGHnwFeG1NMpyc97OxV6FpniBC2MULBMIGYzzeS/s320/P1070257-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>It's preeeetty hard to see, but on the </em><br />
<em>bottom left, you can just make out the little</em><br />
<em>town of Aguas Calientes set right smack in the</em><br />
<em>middle of gigantic and supremely towering mountains</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954839211446377118.post-88707868680668717272012-11-04T23:59:00.000-03:002012-11-05T04:34:02.050-03:00Next Adventure: Peru, Baby!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjEITqPJGlojG90oBzKygtl6Lun_822v565HTTldPoK0AuWETYJeb_Mpxt2WTe4xjJNV3K31TMTNpNbXLypc1pdFyC1KkiNz2YbEg1e3SD6vAsXucN3VBoUsTY51p7Av9TuZqKVA4DQVD/s1600/P1060986-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCjEITqPJGlojG90oBzKygtl6Lun_822v565HTTldPoK0AuWETYJeb_Mpxt2WTe4xjJNV3K31TMTNpNbXLypc1pdFyC1KkiNz2YbEg1e3SD6vAsXucN3VBoUsTY51p7Av9TuZqKVA4DQVD/s320/P1060986-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Viva El Peru, indeed!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We made it to Peru! Our first destination here is Cusco, the
starting point for travelers ultimately headed to Macchu Picchu. Our flight
from Quito had a stopover in Lima and with truly perfectly timed flights,
another friend from the States met us in the international arrivals terminal,
so we are now officially a group of three. The meeting up part was easy; the
6-hour layover that resulted in spending the night in the airport waiting for
our 5 am flight to Cusco, not so much. Obviously, there isn’t much sleep that
happens in an airport but since so many flights to Cusco leave so ridiculously
early, the airport is fully open 24 hours a day, so even at 3 in the morning
you can get a bite to eat or do some shopping to kill some time if you’re so
inclined. We were not so inclined, but at least still having some hustle and
bustle around us made it feel much less like a graveyard. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnwv1bauNPGGZFznAi1hn-kYDIo38eb4q2epIsBPL_UcnQvE27LUgaNYvFv3gRj-PMYT40m46dUq7eZR6EalyUqtejXQeeitT2k_63UdaKxDflr0cYiKnqwAUNQptsyEIdfY1YwJIPT8a/s1600/P1060989-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnwv1bauNPGGZFznAi1hn-kYDIo38eb4q2epIsBPL_UcnQvE27LUgaNYvFv3gRj-PMYT40m46dUq7eZR6EalyUqtejXQeeitT2k_63UdaKxDflr0cYiKnqwAUNQptsyEIdfY1YwJIPT8a/s320/P1060989-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The main plaza in Cusco</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Either way, we arrived in Cusco yesterday morning pretty
unavoidably wiped out after getting only about an hour of sleep in the airport.
Hence our plan for it to simply be a day to chill, nap and get acclimated to
the city. We had a great lunch then spent the afternoon slowly wandering around
the old part of the city. We chilled over coffee and dessert, we napped, we had
dinner. About as low-key as a day gets. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRvd1Vgjwq815StavrypYkEuLoFbt1n6h50ErSHLbAb3Xgwe1iPOsZcO2aNnRJAi-0Uw6fVm28kzIsNnmt_Uort15vvUfpeQGryNokeIfZIR4PebvcYEXRzF09hef0nGusVuwsTp38iwQ/s1600/P1060992-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRvd1Vgjwq815StavrypYkEuLoFbt1n6h50ErSHLbAb3Xgwe1iPOsZcO2aNnRJAi-0Uw6fVm28kzIsNnmt_Uort15vvUfpeQGryNokeIfZIR4PebvcYEXRzF09hef0nGusVuwsTp38iwQ/s320/P1060992-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Coffee and decadent desserts overlooking the plaza...</em><br />
<em>not too shabby!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In addition to acclimating to the city, we are also
acclimating to the high altitude here. Laura and I had a head start in Ecuador
as Quito is the world’s highest capital (at an elevation of 9,750 feet above
sea level!) but since it was Lili’s first day, we were extra careful to take it
slow. I actually haven’t had any issues with it since arriving, other than
occasionally feeling out of breath from what would otherwise be a non-issue, such
as walking fast or climbing stairs or walking up an incline. Laura’s had a bit
more trouble, having more of the traditional symptoms off and on like
headaches, nausea, dizziness, tingling in her arms and hands, as well as the
shortness of breath. It’s the first time I’ve been in a place where altitude is
an issue, and I find it an oddly interesting topic. It seems to be even worse
here for her as the elevation of Cusco is a whopping 11,200 feet. She might
start to get some relief tomorrow as we start to make our way closer to Macchu
Picchu, which is “only” 7,970 feet. Pfft, that’s nothin’!</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuibV6Sol998stiVk6vSX76-CGfLfJznpEAwzOkr4j6QbCCpG9AGnWr67HScuxigdRCgEpkz_m6yudFC_rPp5Ce6D1s2w8o1pPAUeWmLTtKwNaNuO8ldRQRCu7v_gXO_RLdTh2NMBVeX-E/s1600/P1060996-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuibV6Sol998stiVk6vSX76-CGfLfJznpEAwzOkr4j6QbCCpG9AGnWr67HScuxigdRCgEpkz_m6yudFC_rPp5Ce6D1s2w8o1pPAUeWmLTtKwNaNuO8ldRQRCu7v_gXO_RLdTh2NMBVeX-E/s320/P1060996-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The "ticket window" at the soccer stadium</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
After receiving all sorts of varying information (as well as
what we knew were outrageous price quotes) from everyone we asked about it, we
decided to spend some time this morning at the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">official</i></b> tourism office,
getting the real low-down on the best way to get there on our own so we could
start formulating a plan. Done.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WV_W4QOpA7sePL0tmLgbDqwra1yJc_TtvmP8-5_AFychQ658fN-ZLih0-UzB96midO2iiAOGmINHnFWHFXcOTHLPKK8FCRtpFOTINtjYv4olL2RxHs41dcpDtVujyk8WuGBkfpG-T_wA/s1600/P1070012-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WV_W4QOpA7sePL0tmLgbDqwra1yJc_TtvmP8-5_AFychQ658fN-ZLih0-UzB96midO2iiAOGmINHnFWHFXcOTHLPKK8FCRtpFOTINtjYv4olL2RxHs41dcpDtVujyk8WuGBkfpG-T_wA/s320/P1070012-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The rabid, and very entertaining, Cusco fans</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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On a lark yesterday, we asked someone about soccer in Cusco
and found out that they actually have two teams (one of which one the South
American cup a few years ago) and that there just so happened to be a game
today. If you want a truly South American experience, go to a soccer game here!
For starters, we were wandering around looking for the ticket sales office and
then noticed lines of people at various points along random spots on the outer
wall. It took a minute to figure out that the “ticket office” is nothing more
than hole just a few inches square in the wall where you hand your money
through to a pair of eyes and suddenly a hand sticks the tickets back out at
you. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto! You walk into the stadium and instead
of pricey vendors selling Coke and hot dogs for 10 bucks a pop, there are
tables set up with everything from fresh juices to pinchos (kabobs) to ice
creams for prices that are mostly less than 50 cents. Inside the stadium you
just sit wherever you like on the cement rows. I also found it amusing to
observe what the vendors who came through the stands were selling: instead of
beer, you could buy chicha (a juice made from sugar cane) in a little plastic
bag. Forget hot dogs, here it’s kabobs. It was an awesome experience! </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAu19vahyEH_-2FX1xzboZAEADR1AIBprZnBteW2Z6k1hFQZzcvHg0hj1BLcwG6EovZXAGmdirzJwiUmcrh0iIPMVbfz00hsxfM0M1SS_OJk6nOlGpdL8j-MScBmleDOZgLOvqc1QstTLb/s1600/P1070007-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAu19vahyEH_-2FX1xzboZAEADR1AIBprZnBteW2Z6k1hFQZzcvHg0hj1BLcwG6EovZXAGmdirzJwiUmcrh0iIPMVbfz00hsxfM0M1SS_OJk6nOlGpdL8j-MScBmleDOZgLOvqc1QstTLb/s320/P1070007-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Drinking chicha from a bag at a soccer game, typical Sunday</em><br />
<em>afternoon for me, you know....</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
And what was most awesome was that we were the only gringos
in the crowd. Just us and ten thousand screaming Peruvians, hurling insults at
the players when they messed up and going berserk when they got a goal. Being
able to speak Spanish, it was particularly amusing for me to be able to hear
the things the fans were screaming at the players…. oh my! Even without knowing
much about the game, much less this team or its players, it was impossible not
to get caught up in the enthusiasm of the crowd. An interesting note was the
very large police presence (and I’m not talking rent-a-cops, I’m talking suited
to the hilt with shields and guns) to make sure the crowds didn’t get too
unruly. South Americans do have a reputation for being rather rowdy fans and
there have been some really tragic incidents at soccer games here involving rioting
crowds. But at least for today, I only saw the police have to push back a few
people who were standing at the fence yelling at the players… one being a
woman, no less! <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioG7RKsSclX9TTY5XGLhRNf14gULTLut-SMl4cQvb4wntf9tKwBkkwSMQllW6-InqprRA1Odoxan-xna8h0D_PW0zyHgPkxunMR_mAMFvqoWmzlKRnWCkhiX54EvOKscbubeQiZQ3p5AOI/s1600/P1070019-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioG7RKsSclX9TTY5XGLhRNf14gULTLut-SMl4cQvb4wntf9tKwBkkwSMQllW6-InqprRA1Odoxan-xna8h0D_PW0zyHgPkxunMR_mAMFvqoWmzlKRnWCkhiX54EvOKscbubeQiZQ3p5AOI/s320/P1070019-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Cusco Market</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In the afternoon we went to a big market and tried out all
sorts of local delicacies. It’s hard to get over just how good you can eat here…
and how ridiculously inexpensively you can do it. Today we honed in on fresh
squeezed juice made right before your eyes, yogurt with fresh tropical fruit on
top, homemade artisanal breads and pastries… and most of it costing less than
$1. I’m going to go through serious withdrawal when I get home and can no
longer get fresh, pure juice every morning! <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5OuQQs-FVUxUzP3ehKs-XBXEJJ9y07wXyA9bfuqcsM9HmgmGn-aKYIFGwYAfDqI0543bslTLJ6OJ4dpAwb9bKL6UH6WEwDIOBLcADsaEu1n4czWatIyhPH-xk1wKVBZtrBwZKYFqUbsjz/s1600/P1070021-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5OuQQs-FVUxUzP3ehKs-XBXEJJ9y07wXyA9bfuqcsM9HmgmGn-aKYIFGwYAfDqI0543bslTLJ6OJ4dpAwb9bKL6UH6WEwDIOBLcADsaEu1n4czWatIyhPH-xk1wKVBZtrBwZKYFqUbsjz/s320/P1070021-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Their loaves of bread have all sorts of things in them: coins,</em><br />
<em>candies, horse heads, doll faces.... hmm</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Laura and Lili were not feeling well by late afternoon so
they headed back to the hotel to rest and I ventured off on my own. And what
better thing to do in a foreign country when you have some time on your own
than…. why, a massage, of course! Especially when you can get one for less than
$10. Follow that up with a yummy meal on the plaza and it doesn’t get much
better. Until….<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9Ye-iCuUIMyCVoBPCn0mC01EpZGsv31LuHI0cQgWGHKrSIOb98bRyqOBfdZz_2Q2Kr4oxXDqQl1KyhPSgJyNOCAVwsAHNn_JrCjb9MZHmdHRnA90faEWLehyphenhypheni4Z45ayztU8BUuBckUm6/s1600/IMG_2315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9Ye-iCuUIMyCVoBPCn0mC01EpZGsv31LuHI0cQgWGHKrSIOb98bRyqOBfdZz_2Q2Kr4oxXDqQl1KyhPSgJyNOCAVwsAHNn_JrCjb9MZHmdHRnA90faEWLehyphenhypheni4Z45ayztU8BUuBckUm6/s320/IMG_2315.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>I watched this lady make me some super yummy pineapple juice</em><br />
<em>for realz... and then she served it to me in a bag!</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
… you walk outside to head back for the night and randomly find
a group of traditional Peruvian musicians playing their instruments and dancing
in the square, a large crowd starting to form around them. And then another
shows up on the other side of the plaza. And then another comes down an alley.
And then suddenly the whole plaza is teeming with different music groups, each
in different types of traditional dress, each playing a different kind of music
and doing their own dance. They finally all converged in the center, still all
playing at the same time, none of the music being the same so the result was
essentially complete chaos, and yet oh-so-South American and culturally rich
and fascinating all at the same time. Gotta love an unexpected cultural
experience that you just so happen to stumble upon while walking home!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><em>The nighttime Peruvian musicathon I happened on tonight</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xCgfFyEfY7wtg2WMyd28vRm-n8bDahGFjqtg9BPvOrCIEqS1yRwDJKeZJJjXH1OPhIs1VwlXYTt9gB4pXzk8tTjroaVEi43ZJKhDV9ZHQlRz8zXzKMGuz_-qb7E-LFdPVcnmaATMGBpK/s1600/P1070040-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xCgfFyEfY7wtg2WMyd28vRm-n8bDahGFjqtg9BPvOrCIEqS1yRwDJKeZJJjXH1OPhIs1VwlXYTt9gB4pXzk8tTjroaVEi43ZJKhDV9ZHQlRz8zXzKMGuz_-qb7E-LFdPVcnmaATMGBpK/s320/P1070040-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu1ujrWPkavIuTkHwgiVcNswVF8r5WtpDkm6BFQASaBSwyB1Ntyvj3tzSNATOh525BY4QIHjGzlk2uoAve3ZQ15xzCPBw6tppuRGnUWq9_bo2lTnHncuCRPII53kTALs58ClelaB4c1gM/s1600/P1070045-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu1ujrWPkavIuTkHwgiVcNswVF8r5WtpDkm6BFQASaBSwyB1Ntyvj3tzSNATOh525BY4QIHjGzlk2uoAve3ZQ15xzCPBw6tppuRGnUWq9_bo2lTnHncuCRPII53kTALs58ClelaB4c1gM/s320/P1070045-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHoCebxgtHE9AZ9tu9NmSLuo94CkNXfKQ2iuzEozqiXH54XmVKwS-mJl0M1Wy5ULZN77rgGxlNfsXA-13X9VJkosRtDqqHCF3o5j0GeBLMyw-h_biFz2oluRmhs9-IvuO35suWXBxFO42/s1600/P1070065-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHoCebxgtHE9AZ9tu9NmSLuo94CkNXfKQ2iuzEozqiXH54XmVKwS-mJl0M1Wy5ULZN77rgGxlNfsXA-13X9VJkosRtDqqHCF3o5j0GeBLMyw-h_biFz2oluRmhs9-IvuO35suWXBxFO42/s320/P1070065-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">And some of my favorite random people shots thus far....</span></em></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7BLgQMuLB5o_3UisSfEp7mIZ6yn89uNtW88wJy53qdvPSuvH-L5qEtgUJZFpPM2I9gT2imFprgug4lyEmNn4IBVgA5UDj6wiwDMB6bqDW64mFZ4tSkf5U-h8K0qJqSlKsk62_vlmWk6x/s1600/IMG_2333+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7BLgQMuLB5o_3UisSfEp7mIZ6yn89uNtW88wJy53qdvPSuvH-L5qEtgUJZFpPM2I9gT2imFprgug4lyEmNn4IBVgA5UDj6wiwDMB6bqDW64mFZ4tSkf5U-h8K0qJqSlKsk62_vlmWk6x/s320/IMG_2333+%25283%2529.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The mother and her laughing child</em></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTmF1PV8QB1gUGuQ6-xwMtqxcckrzZibLrN28MIKXkSsP_6E5KRJ2us5200s3MLYkEiZkpHrjXSZGpF3Xt1Nn59sv_WKqCSsTe2JHPRS3tLMP2Mk7B7UJIhYZf6PfwLZnzk2dgJLO3l9ZE/s1600/P1070018-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTmF1PV8QB1gUGuQ6-xwMtqxcckrzZibLrN28MIKXkSsP_6E5KRJ2us5200s3MLYkEiZkpHrjXSZGpF3Xt1Nn59sv_WKqCSsTe2JHPRS3tLMP2Mk7B7UJIhYZf6PfwLZnzk2dgJLO3l9ZE/s320/P1070018-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The old lady sleeping in the market...</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewbJvSu1FvIO5I6WvTbfGBMSUrEFe4IhfNyVKQz2Qoe2zeaHspit4CCXQH3GTXwVc3LLTI807KRZO_0knLJz_MtJioK15m9eISvG4ehccgHus9-Bqd4-ymql9XKZ2rLB-8-ULRp69lPU4/s1600/IMG_2304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewbJvSu1FvIO5I6WvTbfGBMSUrEFe4IhfNyVKQz2Qoe2zeaHspit4CCXQH3GTXwVc3LLTI807KRZO_0knLJz_MtJioK15m9eISvG4ehccgHus9-Bqd4-ymql9XKZ2rLB-8-ULRp69lPU4/s320/IMG_2304.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>... and the other old lady sleeping in the market...</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9ajRp_CU6AsEX1m_qPdmXJLo49xItZAQqgt5KpqYrPeOVItzQ0Ey3_kbxHuuoQ77RMTURYFTnv3znyNAdsSMa3ikayBQFh9yXVWcDvzr0FwuA-ekwZj-4ePFol1Dw5N_a3u6KDbUIh_l/s1600/P1070022-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9ajRp_CU6AsEX1m_qPdmXJLo49xItZAQqgt5KpqYrPeOVItzQ0Ey3_kbxHuuoQ77RMTURYFTnv3znyNAdsSMa3ikayBQFh9yXVWcDvzr0FwuA-ekwZj-4ePFol1Dw5N_a3u6KDbUIh_l/s320/P1070022-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>.... and their friend, the old lady sleeping outside.</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9BTHRRWggB4h-K0cfH66rkdiOrEBrcqrhAn0TpgIwuUsOmyVUkKvpnYl4ig5SQz-qEWPBtElCLe8DBPSaMj-GRVZtcdxae3uO9ZyeYOtBRcka7Yvmc69kZLYv8A7qHbnX0Iu-WCz8cDP/s1600/IMG_2205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9BTHRRWggB4h-K0cfH66rkdiOrEBrcqrhAn0TpgIwuUsOmyVUkKvpnYl4ig5SQz-qEWPBtElCLe8DBPSaMj-GRVZtcdxae3uO9ZyeYOtBRcka7Yvmc69kZLYv8A7qHbnX0Iu-WCz8cDP/s320/IMG_2205.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The lady selling pineapple out of a wheelbarrow</em></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsG2PMhCMdeuRDdZVj2tvwILO4e6itvyC8q-Vmzxu_C4oRORmN-WB0yVMDZ70zu8LKI72t2Z0HWfBc8QlzwRldlvmR0gZkjVlF0bK0fEih3gbQWJnEAXhsQrigNNgrOGrTYVckVT7VSjLe/s1600/P1070023-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsG2PMhCMdeuRDdZVj2tvwILO4e6itvyC8q-Vmzxu_C4oRORmN-WB0yVMDZ70zu8LKI72t2Z0HWfBc8QlzwRldlvmR0gZkjVlF0bK0fEih3gbQWJnEAXhsQrigNNgrOGrTYVckVT7VSjLe/s320/P1070023-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The two old guys selling portraits who apparently haven't</em><br />
<em>gotten the memo about digital cameras yet</em></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibLuYyyIaKdFyzaPxwC9pZ7RVFLuEfRxMfFLSxWR2718TmgknOkGHHtYnCPh21ou8OAVYk2czM61syUrX0PJULwvmNvneJWy0YlmcQ1ABeOf4pyuKKBIMRTah2Zuu9JSiKIcCK2a0X8Ouc/s1600/IMG_2338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibLuYyyIaKdFyzaPxwC9pZ7RVFLuEfRxMfFLSxWR2718TmgknOkGHHtYnCPh21ou8OAVYk2czM61syUrX0PJULwvmNvneJWy0YlmcQ1ABeOf4pyuKKBIMRTah2Zuu9JSiKIcCK2a0X8Ouc/s320/IMG_2338.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>And no caption needed</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Katy Shieldshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14312049090019795735noreply@blogger.com0