Monday, May 30

Soon to be, or perhaps already, totally uncool

We spent yesterday afternoon in Kadikoy, the hipster suburb of Istanbul, hoping to get a random glimpse of Turkish life before we meet up with Amy Dickie (T-minus 30 minutes, yes!) and hit the road again. We ended up on the second floor of a four-story bar playing Turkish scrabble, drinking dark beer (finally) and smoking apple tobacco out of a houka while two local guys wailed on their acoustic guitars and waiters clapped in the background. As we looked around the room we realized that we were by far the oldest people in the place. Yikes. When did I start being the fogey in the bar? All the guys around me had hair gelled up into a faux-mohawk and wore black. Is this cool in America nowadays? I used to know the answer to this, but one day last year I looked at the Billboard Top 40 list and some chick named Chingy was at the top. Who the hell is Chingy? I always said I'd never be one of those parents who was out of touch with their kid's music, but here I am just short of 30 (T-minus 5 months, yes!) and I'm already hopelessly far from hip. I take solace only in the fact that Meg's even less aware of pop culture than I am, and thus even lamer than me.

---rahul

Saturday, May 28

Bahraın - The New New Jersey?

After spending the last 5 months exploring the height of Hindu and Buddhist civilization, you might think that we've peaked already in our search for culture. But you're wrong. Because in the sultanate of Bahrain (where we passed through on our flight from Kathmandu to Istanbul), amidst a sea of nouveau riche construction and fancy desert landscape, we found a Cinnabon outlet. Sweet jesus, the best part of my Jersey childhood (besides you, Mom and Dad, love you guys! you too, sis) doesn't exist in San Francisco anymore, but can now be found in the heart of the Middle East. Have I already mentioned how much I love globalization? Anyway, our 11 hour layover allowed me to have a midnight snack Cinnabon and a 2nd breakfast Cinnabon. I am happy.

We spent our last night in Kathmandu singing karaoke with my sister. Finally, after a search that began in January in Bali, we were finally able to get our mics (and swerve) on. The song selection was sparse, but there was just enough Scorpions to get us through the evening. Which reminds me, mark it down on your calendars - Aug. 27, we're hosting a huge-ass karaoke rager in New York City. If you're in the same time zone, you gotta come. We've already begun planning our setlist (and international costume selection). Details to come.

Now we're in Turkey, reeling from sticker shock after getting used to living on the cheap in Asia, but rockin' on. Today we sat down for a couple hours at an outdoor cafe to drink tea and play backgammon amidst a score of Turkish old men. They mocked me as Meg (gasp, a woman!) trounced me. We've already learned that no one here drinks Turkish coffee; we hope to soon discover whether the reputations of Turkish delight and Turkish prisons are similarly overblown.

rahul

Sunday, May 22

But alas, not Constantinople

Here's our itinerary for the week:

Lhasa - Kathmandu - Abu Dhabi - Bahrain - Istanbul

Don't that just sound cool?!

Friday, May 20

The Force is With Us

Like many kids who grew up in the late 70s and 80s, the Star Wars movies have held a special place in my heart. This place has shrunk a little bit in the last few years due to the complete suckiness of the first two prequels. So I knew that when the final movie came out, I'd have to find a way to reconcile my Star Wars love with the atrocious dialogue and acting that my slightly grown-up mind can no longer tolerate.

Thank God we're in Tibet. As Meg and I wandered the streets of Lhasa yesterday, we came upon a theater selling tickets for the opening night of Revenge of the Sith, and we realized, the perfect way to watch the last Star Wars movie was in dubbed Chinese! YES! Gone are the lovey-dovey, yet unromantic, lines in stilted English; in their place is incomprehensible Mandarin (or Cantonese, like we know the difference). Political complexities that bored us in previous movies faded away and we were able to focus on the rockin' action and sweet computer effects. Plus, if you haven't heard Yoda speak Chinese, you haven't lived. Of course, we suspect we may have missed some of the plot subtleties due to the lack of English, but we think we got a pretty decent hold on the storyline. Here goes:

[spoiler alert]

Apparently, this movie is about bad hair and its effect on man's ability to raise children. At the beginning of the film, a guy named Ana-tse with really bad hair is teamed up with the dude from Trainspotting, who apparently has kicked his heroin habit and now has really good hair (and beard). They're trying to rescue some old senator guy who has really bad hair. They manage to do it after killing some robots and after Ana-tse wins a lightsaber duel with another old guy with pretty good hair for his age (it sounded like his name was something Dooku, but we figure that must just be a bad Chinese translation). There seems to be a key moment where Ana-tse wants to spare the old Dooku guy, but the evil Senator tells him to give in to his jealousy for the Dooku hair and kill him, which he does.

Later on, Ana-tse starts having bad dreams about his girlfriend giving birth and screaming in agony at the thought that her baby might end up having Ana-tse's hair (as opposed to his sexy dark brooding eyes). Ana-tse realizes that his hair is presenting a barrier to his relationship and to his future effectiveness as a father, and thus seeks out advice from the Jedi Council. Unfortunately, he is given a lot of unhelpful advice from Yoda and the bad-ass motherfucker from Pulp Fiction. They apparently tell him to just shave his head, as they once faced similar problems in their youth, but found that getting rid of all earthly attachments of hirsuteness led to peace and serenity in their lives. Meanwhile, the guy from Trainspotting tries to sell Ana-tse on the benefits of meditation and discipline to improve the quality of his hair growth, but Ana-tse remains skeptical.

Ana-tse ends up seeking council from the bad-hair senator guy, who seems to tell him that if he masters the powers of the dark side of the Force, he'll be able to have even better hair than the guy from Trainspotting. (It wasn't clear to us why Ana-tse believed the guy given his ugly coif, but we don't want to nit-pick). Ana-tse ends up buying into the dark side-good hair theory and starts killing everyone in sight, starting with the bad-ass bald motherfucker from Pulp Fiction and eventually progressing to a bunch of kids with pretty good hair. Up until now, I had a lot of empathy for Ana-tse and his bad-hair plight, but c'mon man, you can't be killing the kids! Geez.

Anyways, there's a climactic scene where Ana-tse's girlfriend flies out to try to tell him that even though he has bad hair that might get passed on to their children, she's willing to forgive him and let him help raise the kids if he just stops killing everyone. But then the dude from Trainspotting shows up again and his hair is so excellent that Ana-tse just can't take it and flips out all over again. Ana-Tse says something along the lines of "Either you're with my hair or you're against it", but the dude from Trainspotting is definitely NOT with Ana-Tse's hair. They fight and Ana-tse tries some radical experiment where he burns all his follicles with hot lava, but that doesn't end up working out too well.

The movie ends with Ana-tse reconciling himself to his bad-hair fate and deciding to wear a black helmet for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, a nasty custody battle over the fate of the kids (plural, twins it turns out) is averted when the Latino guy from LA Law shows up. Yoda advises everyone involved to not mess with the lawyers and to chill out for a few decades to see if the kids end up having the good hair that will enable them to fight the bad guys someday! LA Law guy (who has great hair, by the way) takes one kid, and the Trainspotting guy takes the other, though eventually decides he might want to return to his smack habit and thus leaves the kid in the desert for a random couple (with pretty decent hair) to raise him.

The End

Overall, we thought it was a pretty good flick. We hear that some conservatives in America are mad because they feel like the movie takes some swipes at our President, but honestly, we wonder what movie they were watching?! W's got good hair, certainly better than Kerry's, so we think he'd support the deeper messages of this film. Maybe he just didn't like it because the trial lawyer and the former smack addict get the kids in the end.

--rahul

Tuesday, May 17

Seven Days in Tibet

We had to say goodbye to Rahul's father John and his wife Kathleen last night, as they took off for the airport this morning to continue their four-month sabbatical into India, Australia and New Zealand. But we celebrated in style last night by partying for John's 62nd birthday (okay, it's not till June 25, but when you only get to hang once a year, you gotta take every chance you get). We went to one of Lhasa's finest backpacker restaurants and had chicken sizzler, Tibetan noodles, a spinach patty, a potato pancake with applesauce, local wine and four pieces of baked cheesecake. We even convinced the ladies running the restaurant to sing a heavily-accented Happy Birthday, ending with them collapsing into a fit of giggles. Awwright!!

We have to give major props to J & K. We made them change their plans so that they could accompany us on a week-long pilgrimage to Tibet, forcing them to endure 5 days of bumpy jeep rides, altitude-induced light-headedness, dormitory accommodations with rat infestations and no showers, and squat toilets that make your eyes water. For anyone out there looking for a way to grow closer to their family, we highly recommend signing up for this trip, though we don't know many other 60 year-olds out there who can hack it. There was plenty of goodness to go with the travails. Here are some highlights:

  • Blockades and Border Crossings: On our way to the Nepal-Tibet border, our bus suddenly stopped and didn't move for an hour. After futilely trying to get an explanation for the halt, we unloaded our bags, walked about 200m and found a bus parked horizontally across the road. Not seeing the owner of the bus anywhere, we walked a little further and found a big pile of rocks blocking the road. Not seeing the owner of the rocks anywhere, we walked a little further, found a nice Nepali family driving a jeep who let us pile 12 white people into the back and onto the roof, and drove us 30 minutes to the border for $2 a head. We think that this was our first encounter with the Maoist insurgency, but we don't quite understand what anyone stood to gain from the blockade. Silly Maoists. At the border, a Chinese soldier sprayed our bags with a bizarre chlorine-scented mist, pressed an inexplicable laser to our foreheads, and allowed us to walk into Tibet. China is wack.
  • Nectar of the Gods: Within minutes of clearing customs, we went to the local Chinese market and discovered with delight cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon. America's worst beer tastes reallll nice on the road to Tibet. As Rahul's draw group would say, F$&k that Sh#$.
  • Nobu-King of the Road: Our jeep driver Nobu didn't speak a word of English, sported a sweet black leather fedora, slammed the doors on us whenever he was ready to go and tortured us with one tape of bad Chinese pop that he put on endless repeat for five days. By the end of the trip, we knew every note but not a single word. We grew to love Nobu's brusque manner, and we gradually won his affection by giving him Pringles and biscuits.
  • The Invasion of the Personal Space: Tibetans are aggressively touchy-feely, without the feely. Beggars "ask" for money by standing in front of you, pushing your shoulders, stopping you from walking forward, and smiling sweetly while saying "money, money, money." A souvenir vendor grabbed Meg by the arm, tried to sell her some trinkets, and slapped her on the ass when she declined. Even the monks get in on the action - one older lama used Meg's butt to steady himself as he tottered down a monastery staircase. Cheeky monk. Tibet's physicality takes a little getting used to, but since it usually comes with huge Tibetan smiles, it's actually not so bad.
  • The Ecstasy and the Agony - Though the food on the drive up was pretty bleak, Lhasa's a culinary goldmine by our standards. We've been feasting on pineapple-chocolate chip cheesecake, momos (dumplings) of every variety, and the ubiquitous Yak meat (vegetarianism takes another beating). However, we can report that Tibet is home to the absolute worst beverage on the planet - yak butter tea, described accurately by one traveler as "a cross between brewed old socks and sump oil." Tibetans drink forty cups of it a day, but we will never ever let it touch our lips again.
  • Prostrating Pilgrims - Most of the key sights in Lhasa are connected by a series of koras - circumambulations traveled clockwise by Tibetan buddhists spinning prayer wheels, chanting, and in some cases, falling to the ground every couple steps to prostrate themselves and pray. We saw people who apparently have spent a year prostrating their way for 5000 km from Beijing, and they've got the forehead calluses to show for it. It's hard to explain how cool it feels to be swept along surrrounded by happy, devout pilgrims. It's easy to feel that China has obliterated the Tibetan way of life, but the daily sight of tens of thousands of Tibetan Buddhists continuing their ancient traditions makes us believe that the culture will continue to survive.
  • The Beauty - Tibet is stark and barren and harsh and ugly and absolutely beautiful. Somehow you see desert mixed with mountains, sand dunes with snow caps, and turquoise lakes with rock formations. It's cool to see the Himalayas from our third country now, and it's worth every bone-jarring minute in a rickety jeep to get here.

Monday, May 9

Everest Base Camp (or not)


Maybe it's the fact that in 12 hours we leave for two weeks in Tibet, but once again, we're gonna try to resist the urge to wax too rhapsodic about our 17-day trek through the Himalayas. But all the pictures are up! Click on the Photos link on the side and you'll see our albums on Everest, the Nepali MS150, and our trip through Kathmandu and Royal Chitwan National Park. As for the trek, here's some highlights:

The Beginning - Twenty minutes into our 16-day trek, after reading extensively about the perils of altitude sickness, we passed a group coming down led by a twentysomething woman being led on a horse. She was sheet white and clearly was riding because she wasn't able to walk. As we gave her what we thought were understanding smiles, she glared at us and said "In two weeks, you'll understand."

The Israelis - Israelis probably have the worst reputation of any nationality on the traveller's circuit (even worse than Americans, gasp!). According to the lore, they're loud, obnoxious, cheap, and only hang out with each other. There are also tons of them everywhere. They usually take a year (or two, or ten) off after their mandatory military service and travel to the most remote parts of the world. On day five of our trek, we met six Israeli guys who killed all the stereotypes (okay, almost, they are loud, but we loved it). When we came upon them on the
trail, one had just eaten a yak poop patty on a dare for a prize of 10 Snickers bars from his buddies. He also got a bonus of explosive diarrhea two days later. Later that day, we watched two of the guys carry a Frenchwoman suffering from altitude sickness who had been deserted by her tour group back down the trail for hours till they got her to safety. They taught us card games, helped hone our bargaining skills, and made us laugh over and over again.

Dirk - Around the same time, we met Dirk, a 38 year-old Belgian father of two, the happiest house-husband we've ever met, completely committed to never having a job for the rest of his life. He and his wife have hitchhiked their way through Mongolia, Tibet, Alaska, and Southeast Asia. On the first night they met, she moved into his house and never left. He's been up and down every trail in the Himalayas, and guided us around, putting up with our smelly farts, our weird American jokes, and our constantly changing hiking plans. He even fed us Nutella sandwiches and hot lemonade on the trail. We miss him already.

The Blizzard - We carefully planned our schedule so that for our hardest climb over a huge, steep, slippery pass, we'd hike to the nearest village the afternoon before. Unfortunately, at 2pm when we started our hike, a massive blizzard hit and after 20 minutes, we had to turn around and go back because we couldn't see the trail, each other, or the crevasses in
the glacier that we shouldn't fall into. We cursed the weather gods because we knew it would mean a killer climb over the pass the next day, but we soon changed our tune when the storm passed and we climbed up a nearby hill and took another look at the longest glacier in the world,
covered in snow, surrounded by mountains. It was one of the most beautiful things we've ever seen in our lives.

The Porters - They are freaking unbelievable. Most days we saw over a hundred guys, carrying stuff up and down the mountains. There's no roads into any of these villages, so anything that comes up, comes up on either yaks or backs (with the occasional exception of a helicopter drop). This includes cases of beer, sheets of plywood, 2X4s, meat carcasses, dairy whitener, Pringles, and of course, chocolate. As we were making our way up switchback after switchback, we watched a 5'5" guy walk by in flip-flops carring two 50kg bags of rice up. That's 100 kgs (220 lbs). Stunning.

The Climbs - The first few days of trekking were pretty chill. In order to avoid altitude sickness, you only want to gain about 1000 feet a day, which in the straight-up Himalayas usually means an hour (or two) of hiking. But once we hit 15,000 feet, we got more hardcore, climbing up to between 17,500 and 19,000 feet on four consecutive days. We got little headaches, we got little everything-aches, but we saw some absolutely gorgeous views, at least when the clouds didn't come in and wipe out all our visibility. After the final climb (over the Cho-La pass), our legs were completely worked and even the tiniest little uphill stretch along our descent back to home base made us whince.

The Change in Plans - We started out fixin' to go to Everest Base Camp. We ended doing everything but that. We decided that instead of spending our trip trying to see the world's hightest mountain, we'd rather search for frozen alpine lakes, uninhabited and uninhibited views, and the, ahem, road less travelled. Just about every day we changed our plans somehow, and that was good. But someday, we're just gonna have to come back and make it to Base Camp.

The Deep-Fried Snickers- On what we thought was our last night of hiking (until a storm came in and grounded all the planes the next day), we ordered up a "Khumbu Glacier Melt" from our local lodge. It turned out to be a Snickers bar deep-fried in pastry. It was so good that we had to have another one the next night. Luckily the clouds parted and we flew back to Kathmandu before we were able to make it a threepeat.

The Yak Bells - Every once in a while, you think there's really no other being left on earth around you. You're dwarfed by the mountains around you and you feel absolutely isolated from everything. Then you hear a strange little tinkling sound and see a big hairy yak looking down at you, slowly loping up the trail, with a well-worn bell dangling from its neck, cutting through the harsh wind and telling you you're not alone. We love the yak. And the nak (its female counterpart).

The End - And then, after seventeen days, no showers, a couple pounds of chocolate, 20 helpings of chow mein and dal, and a whole lot of smelly, dirty underwear, we were done. After a day's delay because of grounded aircraft, we boarded our 10-seater plane and made our way back to Kathmandu, exhausted, exhilirated, ecstatic. Life in the Himalayas...is good.

Nepali MS150 - Director's Cut


When trying to recount a two-day bike ride, it's far too easy to degenerate into mind-numbing descriptions of bucolic scenery and bitter physical agony. And because the names Meg and Rahul will never be confused with Whitman and Tolstoy, we've resisted the urge to wax too poetic about our 150 km "achievement". I mean, who really wants to read "And at KM 20, we went up a really steep hill. Boy did our quads burn on that one. It was only bearable because of the dulcet tones of Himalayan winds whoosing through the soft pines of the Nepali forest." Not us. The truth is, as incredible as the ride was for us, we still wish we could have teleported ourselves to Texas to join the Pearsons and 10,000 other riders for the real MS150. So, we're gonna leave the blow-by-blow narration to the photos and highlight the key differences between the real MS150 and the Nepali MS150.

*The Team Captain* - On the MS150, your leader is Johnny Pearson (aka "Daderoo", "the Chairmanator"), a relatively recent convert to the sport of biking who thinks nothing of throwing his rippling 61 year-old, fluorescent yellow spandex-clad body into the peloton with thousands of novice riders. In the Nepali MS150, our guide was Tilak, a 27 year-old Nepali with a wife and six month-old baby at home who regularly leads two-week rides to Tibet over fifteen thousand foot passes, where the headwinds are so strong that even when you're dropping 3000 feet you have to pedal downhill. Tilak loves his job but is trying to decide whether to take a job in Qatar as an auto mechanic, where he can quadruple his pay, but will only see his family once a year and won't get to sherpa out-of-shape whities like us up the hill on bikes all the time.

*Rest stops* - On the MS150, you are tempted to dismount every 15 miles by well-stocked rest stops, where you can suck down orange slices and Gatorade, pose for pictures with your team, and even smear some Icy-Hot on your aching muscles if you need it. On the Nepali MS150, our first stop was at a military checkpoint where we had to prove that there were no Maoists hiding in our spandex. Our second stop was at a Buddhist monastery where we tried not to offend the monks with our immodest display of flesh. Somehow their saffron-colored robes did not find transcendent synergy with our irridescent jerseys. There were no orange slices or coolers of Gatorade to be found, but we did have a few packages of GU to fuel our journey, thanks to our friend and personal courier Courtney.

*Lunch* - On the MS150, it's PB&J, bananas, and Oreos. On the Nepali MS150, it was all-you-can-eat dal bhat (lentil soup, rice and a mystery vegetable) and chowmein. It's quite tasty really, but tends to sit in your stomach for the next two hours of uphill riding. Meg found no enjoyment in this on Day 1.

*Interaction with the locals* - MS150 -People park themselves in their lawnchairs all along the route, shouting encouragement, sporting laudatory signs (e.g. "Go Dunagan"), ringing bells, and grilling on the Q. Nepali MS150 - Villagers laughed at our spandex and our inability to keep up with our guide, but the children yelling "Namaste" and "Hallo, hallo" at the top of their lungs as we rode by made it fun to be out-of-place tourists for a few days. Except for one particularly cheeky kid who took advantage of our snail pace and ran up behind to grab onto our tires to slow us down even more. In the spirit of multinational friendship, we decided not to beat him. But we were not amused when he asked us for chocolate.

*The 1st night* - MS150- Cheering family greets you with Shiner's and massages, whisks you off to a local ranch and pampers you while you think despairingly about the day to come. Nepali MS150- After a final quad-busting climb ameliorated only by the dulcet tones of Himalayan winds swirling through the pine forests, we rolled into Nagarkhot, a cute little village nestled in the the hills. There, cheering family greeted us with Everest beers and hugs and pampered us while we thought despairingly about the next day to come.

*SAG wagons* - In the MS 150, maroon vans with hokey shoe-polished messages on their windows cruise the route offering free lifts to weary riders. In the Nepali MS150, the "roads" were not suitable for automobiles of any kind, which is probably for the best since we would have found it nearly impossible to resist an escape route from the pain. Pave the world, we say!! Pave it! Pave it!

*The end* - MS150 - Austin state capitol, banners, live music, beer and food everywhere, and a teary Cathy Pearson waiting to hug us all senseless as soon as we cross the finish line. Nepali MS150 - The last ten kilometers are through the streets of Kathmandu, a Darwinian place where bicyclists are somewhere between cow babies and caterpillars on the food chain. If a truck should approach, we were expected to swerve ten feet out of the way to allow its mighty load to pass. No love was shown for our charitable goals or our Western biking rights. But once we made it through gridlock traffic, around five roundabouts, down a couple alleys, and back to the bike shed, it was suhweeet to be done. We would have given anything to have the Pearson gang with us, but we did our best to make do with a cab ride home, a loooong hot shower, and mediocre pizza for dinner.

So, all in all, the Nepali MS150 kicked ass, both the literal asses of both of us, and the proverbial-cum-metaphysical ass that is kicked by awesomeness everywhere. Meg missed her family more than any other time this trip. Rahul missed bike lanes, clip-in pedals and Gatorade deeply, but dug his family for taking a long car ride out to meet us for the first night. We had a freakin' blast, and we hope to never do the Nepali MS150 again, but come April 2006, we shall return triumphantly to Houston to soak in the food, the festivity, the fun, and all the Peason amazingness that comes with the real MS150.

Thanks for everyone out there who's donated to the cause so far. We're still short of our $2000 goal, but we know we can make it there with this one last fundraising push. So, if you're still tempted to give us some money, here's how:

Click on:
http://nepalims150.blogspot.com and follow the Donate link

Adios everyone!

Thursday, May 5

We're Baaa-aaaaack!!!

And we're nearly as slimy and smelly as a Gremlin too, or at least we were before we showered and put on new clothes. For the first time in 17 days. Yuck.

Trekking in Sagarmatha National Park (home of Everest and lots of other really tall and really spectacular mountains) was phenomenal. Meg celebrated her 28th birthday in one of the most beautiful places on earth, complete with a chocolate cake made in a rice cooker and a bottle of wine schlepped all the way from Kathmandu, thanks to Rahul and the friendliest teahouse owner in the world. We can't wait to tell you all about it, but due to the snow and clouds that trapped us in a Himalayan teahouse for an extra 30 hours (it was rough), we will have to postpone the show-and-tell a few more days. Tomorrow we head to the Royal Chitwan National Park to play with elephants and spy on tigers with Rahul's family. When we get back, we will commence a frenzy of MS150 and Everest photo uploading and storytelling before we take off for Tibet the next day. Adios!