The North Temple Pagoda has a long history. It was originally an eleven-storeyed pagoda built by Zhanghui, a monk in the Liang Dynasty. Then it was destroyed by the flames of war and the base of the North Temple Pagoda today was built by Dayuan, a monk in the Southern Song Dynasty.

The North Temple Pagoda is a brick and wooden Buddhist pagoda of the style of building and has nine storeys with eight sides each. With the height of 76 meters, it is the highest of the pagodas in Suzhou . It is famous for double eaves and flying corners and is a building in the same type as the Liuhe Pagoda in Hangzhou . The base of the pagoda covers 1.3 mu (= 0.0667 hectares), whose eaves are extraordinarily long. Its body consists of the outer corridors, the inner corridors and the square rooms in the center. Visitors can walk up along the wooden stairs in the internal corridors and by leaning on the railings look down at the panorama of the city as well as look at hills, waters, and rural scenery of Suzhou in the distance.

]]> Tue, 22 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2995 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24843 0 31.3113889 120.6180556 Rode the tourist train. Sat on the roof which got scary at times as wires skimmed your head and plants and telegraph poles came within millimetres of your face. Went over narrow rickety wooden bridges and through long dark tunnels.

For photos - http://picasaweb.google.com/trevallion/Ibarra

For videos - coming soon]]> Sat, 19 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2345 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24799 0 0.35 -78.1166667 For photos - http://picasaweb.google.com/trevallion74/Otavalo]]> Fri, 18 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2345 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24798 0 0.2333333 -78.2666667 We adopted the hostal's dog, Gringa, and took her for several walks into the mountains and up to the various viewpoints to look out onto the town and the huge volcano that looms over it. We were only partially able to see the volcano though as it was permanently shrouded in mist.

One of the baths we visited is illuminated at night to show the waterfall next to it.

The 21km bike ride consisted of cycling through the surrounding countryside to Rio Verde, the site of the 'Pailon del Diablo', a massive waterfall. We saw several waterfalls on the way. As well as getting used to riding a bike again (Sophie) we had to negotiate two long dark tunnels with lorries and buses passing us. Saw people bungee-jumping of a bridge and also travelling across a gorge by way of a flimsy high speed cable car. On arrival at the Rio Verde we hiked to the biggest waterfall. We got so close to the waterfall we were soaked. We then crawled through a cave so that we could stand directly behind the 'Pailon del Diablo'.

For photos - http://picasaweb.google.com/trevallion74/Banos

For video - http://www.dailymotion.com/trevallion/video/x65wu6_in-front-of-the-pailon-del-diablo-w_travel and http://www.dailymotion.com/trevallion/video/x65wvv_behind-the-pailon-del-diablo-waterf_travel ]]> Sun, 13 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2345 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24796 0 -2.2166667 -80.7 Tue, 22 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=3137 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24792 0 40.79889 -81.37861 hugs* Love you and miss you too--

Mel]]> Tue, 22 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2200 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24782 0 40.85583 -73.20111 Because instead I get to tell you all about my trip to the Spanish ER, how exciting!!

James and I were working on unburying some brush piles and trimming the field grasses so when harvest comes Anne and Simon can actually get to their fruit trees and maize. He had the weed trimmer, which has three metal blades that look somewhat similar to a boat propeller. We'll here this thing...

Brush trimmer... AKA hand chopper

I was working along the other side of the fence around the maize clearing some of the larger brush piles once they were trimmed. He hatched a diabolical plan to disembowel me and...just kidding...turned to toss some grasses out if the way. When he did the trimmer shifted and the blades came up catching me on the side of my left hand. I looked down at my hand to see fleshy bits and blood before coming to the conclusion if I didn't want to add vomit to the mix I shouldn't look, and made James do the looking. My glove was still on obstructing his view and there was a lot of blood so he was freaking out figuring he'd managed to lop off a few fingers or something. He shouted to Simon and we got in the car to go find medical help.

Now I've said before we're staying in Lugo, but were really a good 30 min drive outside Lugo. Think Liberty Hill or Leander to Austin but with a lot less people. We tried first in the small village closest to their house but being siesta time there was no one around. Next we stopped in Corgo which is another village on the way to Lugo thats big enough to have a 24 hr emergency clinic, which luckily stays open during siesta. Not so luckily the doctor wasn't in. The nurse on staff was awesome though and cleaned the wound off, which was a boat load of fun. I recommend having your shredded flesh scrubbed to everyone. She looked at it and thought it was best we go to the hospital in Lugo rather then waiting for the Doctor the come back. She wrapped my hand up and away we went. James bless his heart was trying to distract me from the pain this whole time by being his cute silly self (and trying not to eat himself alive for trying to turn my hand into ground meat), but I deal with pain differently though. Not by not thinking of it but by well meditating I guess...just control my breath and concentrate on nothing.

By the time we got to Lugo I was in better shape as the nurse in Corgo had apparently washed my hand with something that had a bit of topical pain reliever in it. We checked into the ER and the next hour was probably the most hassle free efficient medical service i've ever had. There was a few wait periods, to be checked out by the nurses initially, for the x-rays, and then to get stitched up but never did I wait more then 10 min. Heh getting stitches was interesting this being my first experience with them. I'm not sure there is any sensation quite like having thread pulled through your flesh.

Anyhow, there was definitely a method to the apparent madness of the ER. Now mind you during this whole process I didn't understand a damn thing anyone said to me. Simon was a great help in translating, but not being a native of Spain still has some trouble with the language. I think he totally passed his Spanish field test during this whole ordeal though hehe.

When I was stitched up one of the nurses brought some prescriptions in and gave Simon a sheet with some directions for me and sent us on our merry way. Never did they make me sign or pay anything, just took my travellers insurance info when first booking us and that was that. I didn't even have any Id on me, having left the house as fast as we did.

We stopped in the village by Anne and Simon's to get my prescriptions filled, and I was really confused when she told us the price of everything. 480...four hundred and eighty, forty eight and 0 change? No, 4.80....four euros and 80 cents. Pardon my language moms, but you've got to be fucking kidding me. An antibiotic and two pain relievers for 4 euros and 80 cents, and this was just the standard price. They didn't even ask for insurance information at the pharmacy. Now the meds I got were pretty basic, your standard stuff, but still without insurance I would have been paying at least a hundred dollars for that in the states. This just totally reaffirmed my suspicions that the medical lobby in America is disgustingly powerful and the drug makers are raping the American public to line their pockets.

Spain anyone? I hear there's a few 2000 year old villas in the area for sale for 2k, though I imagine they might need a little work ;p

wave

My hand all wrapped up after the brush trimmer incident

I really enjoyed Budapest. It was a beautiful city and I go back again if the opportunity came up. But it seems that the Hungarians’ taxes are wasted on employing 10,000 people doing the same job. Every time I entered the metro station I purchased a ticket for 270 Forint. Then you walk five feet to a machine that stamps your ticket or sometimes even punches a hole in it. Then you get on the metro. Next to every machine there would be anywhere from 2-10 guards next to each machine to make sure you don’t sneak by without paying. The guards can see you the entire time and you are no more than ten feet away from them at all times yet sometimes they still persisted to check my ticket anyways. Even though they watched me purchase it, then validate it. Once I had my metro ticket checked four times! One guard right after the other…
Metro tickets are a pain in the ass. That is why I’m still bitter about Prague. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time in Prague, it was a gorgeous city. On my last day there I was cutting it really close to catching my bus. I hopped on the tram and was about to hop off when a man with a badge approached me asking for my ticket. I presented it to him but he wasn’t satisfied. Apparently the tickets are only good for 72 minutes at a time. Meaning the one I had would have expired about 5 minutes before he approached me. He demanded 700 koruns or he would call the police. All I had on me was 150 koruns. I pleaded with him telling him I have no money, I’m going to miss my bus. He asked if I had a credit card and I said yes and he took me to an ATM. I told him I don’t have enough money and that I won’t be able to eat for several days, but he was a heartless bastard. Before I handed over the cash to him I called the police over and had them check his ID and badge to make sure he wasn’t trying to scam me. The police said it was real but I can tell this embarrassed him. Serves him right, I barley caught my bus.

Anyways, back to Budapest. I had arranged to couch surf with someone when I arrived but they bailed on me at the last minute. So I arrived at late at night and was about to go sleep in a park but of course I got off at the wrong metro stop. I was out of money and there was not an ATM in sight so I started to walk to the park when I came across this little hole in the wall hostel named “Home Made Hostel”. They didn’t have a bed available that night but Jimmy, the Dutch guy at the front desk/living room, said I could have the employee bed because he had to stay up and let people in all night anyways.

Home Made Hostel was one of the coolest hostels I’ve stayed at. It was basically a large flat or apartment. There were several rooms and a kitchen and kitchen. I don’t believe this place could host more than 20 people at a time. It was great, small hostels mean small groups of people. Right away I got along with this English guy named Robbie Lang who ended up in Budapest by himself as well. We are the same age and were very similar so we went for a night on the town. This particular night ended around 5:00am after we checked out some local pubs and then gorged ourselves on McDonalds on the way back. Ironically Robbie looks uncannily like my friend in San Antonio, Tyler Bravin. I showed Robbie a picture of Tyler and he freaked out. He immediately called his dad to make sure he didn’t have some long lost twin or anything.
Separated at birth? You be the judge.

Right: Robbie Lang Left: Tyler Bravin

I explored the city for a bit my first day there. Later in the afternoon I went to go check out St. Steven’s Basilica. I was standing in the square in front of it when all of a sudden 200 people of all ages sprang out of every nook and cranny, every street, every building, little kids seemed to popping out of the cracks between the coble stones and before I knew it, I was in the center of a massive water fight. Water balloons whizzed overhead and people acted as though they were hit by a hand grenade. Everyone had water pistols and water guns of all sizes. One kid who couldn’t have been older than 10 had a portable pressure washer strapped to his back. Before I knew it I was soaked from head to toe. Luckily a girl gave me one of her back up water pistols so I could defend myself. Whenever we ran out of ammunition we sprang for the numerous fountains and reloaded. This free for all lasted for about an hour before the Police showed up. There were only 2 of them and they tried to assert their authority, but they just ended up getting drenched by countless water balloons and buckets of slimy green fountain water. Then just as quickly as it had started, everyone disappeared. All that was left were a few people staying back to help clean up the broken balloon bits. I was talking to a group of Hungarians afterwards and they said there is this organization that organizes this kind of stuff every month. For example, they told me that last month they had a massive pillow fight.

Later the Hungarians I was with took me on a tour of the city.

They next day was pretty lazy and I woke up late. I didn’t want to do anything too extravagant because I had to catch the bus later that night. So I decided to hit up the Hungarian spa. It was this huge castle like building where you go in and there are hot tubs from warm to boiling hot. There were even pools with water so cold that your bones started to ache after being in them for 10 seconds. Some corridors led to saunas and therapeutic steam rooms. Outside in the courtyard there were largest pools I’ve ever seen. One was a normal pool and the other was just as large but it was a huge communal hot tub. There were crowds of old men dawning the most revealing Speedos playing some of the most intense games of chess I’ve ever witnessed. I made a couple friends while I was there. One American girl who was couch surfing and backpacking around Europe by herself as well and 2 Australian sisters doing the same.

I caught the bus and 12 hours later I was in Bologna, Italy where I had to wait a couple hours for the next bus to Ancona. Italy is an interesting country so far. It is home to the world’s worst drivers. It is next to impossible to cross the street without killed. You may have the green light to walk across but Italian drivers won’t stop. Not because they want to hit you, but because they’re all too busy honking at gesturing wildly at each other. It’s the most contagious form of road rage I’ve ever witnessed so heaven forbid a car switch lanes and pull out in front of another Italian driver even though there is more than enough room. We’re driving on an open country road and I’ve heard the bus driver honk about 30 times already. Italian’s seem to have a very short temper. I saw a man walking earlier and I could have sworn he was about to explode. He had ones of those pulsing veins on his forehead that grew larger with each step. I was afraid to actually walk in to the station because I could see people at the check in counters flailing their arms and arguing with the people behind the desk and then the attendants replying in the same manner, so I just chilled outside in the terminal. Oh, and Italians have no concept of waiting in line. We took a 30-minute break and I was standing in line to get a sandwich and I was bumped all the way to the back of the line. It’s like being back at my school cafeteria. Everyone is constantly screwing each other over. One man even cut in front of me twice. It took so long that I was unable to get anything to eat because it was time for the bus to leave. Aside from all the hostility, the Italian is everything I imagined it to be. There are these green and yellow rolling hills littered with Tuscan and Mediterranean style homes all with they’re own vineyards. It’s just like the movies.

“When I told my friends in London that I was going to travel around Europe and write a book about it, they said, “Oh, you must speak a lot of languages.”
“Why, no” I would reply with a certain pride, “only English,” and they would look at me as if I were foolish or crazy. But that’s the glory of foreign travel, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want to know what people are talking about. I can’t think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Suddenly you are five years old again. You can’t read anything, you only have the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross the street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.”

I also love talking to people from the different countries and hearing they’re opinion on Americans. It dawned on me that most people back home have no idea what’s going on outside the country. In fact most people don’t even have a passport. It’s sad really. Everyone in Europe has a passport. It seems as if everyone likes to travel here. So I encourage anyone who actually reads this to go get a passport (if you don’t already have one) and go see the world.

I’m out for now, I’m about ten minutes from the bus station and by the time I get around to actually posting this blog on the internet I will be in Split, Croatia.
Peace,
Patrick

Quick update: The bus dropped me off in Ancona, well near Ancona. It seems that I was the only passenger to Ancona so the closest they took me was about 18 km outside the city. I wandered around a little bit and asked strangers if they spoke English or Spanish. I had no luck. I ended up interrupting my dad’s beauty sleep in Hawaii to see if he could get on the internet and try and help me find the nearest bus station, but I wasn’t sure where I was in the first place. I ended up going to finding a small office across the street and asking for directions but no one there was able to help me either. Then the rain came. I was in this parking lot off a highway huddled up under my umbrella when a man pulled up and offered a ride. I was very grateful, but he was heading the opposite direction. Several minutes later an Italian woman who looked like she should be on the cover of Vogue magazine pulled up and asked me if I was all right. She spoke a few words of English and Spanish so our conversation was a mixture of the three. Her boyfriend came to meet her there and he spoke very good English and they were very helpful. They said that they would love to give me a ride but they were heading the opposite direction.

I walked a few kilometers to the town of Callefearete and found a bus that would take me to the port in Ancona. I was snug as can be in the bus when I noticed everyone else was paying and somehow I managed to walk by the driver without paying him. I didn’t have (and still don’t) have any money on me and I was not prepared to pay him. He kept eyeing me to make sure I didn’t get off the bus, and I couldn’t afford another stupid fine like in Prague. So I offered my seat to this older woman and when she got off I dashed off the train with her. I didn’t even bother trying to get on another bus. I was in Ancona though, so I just walked to the port from there (a good 5km). As I got closer there were two ports about 1 km apart. I obviously looked like I didn’t know what to do, and southern Italy is that last place you want to look like a helpless tourist. Then this shady looking fellow approached me. He looked like a gypsy so I started clenching my pockets. He had this big goofy grin on his face when he said, “Eh boi!” I was expecting him to beg for money but he didn’t. “You lookin’ for la fiera righ? It dat one.” He turned out to be a really nice guy and we shook hands and went our separate ways. So the moral of this update is that you just can’t judge a book by its cover. Italians aren’t as ruthless as I portrayed them to be earlier. Except one thing’s for certain, they still don’t know what the hell a line is.

So now I’m on the ferry to Split, which I’ll arrive to at 6:00 in the morning. I took a couple pictures but the weather was bad.

The route to the checkin point was less than well signposted and the queue was quite long when we got there – of course, our line had to be the one with the difficult family with oversize and overweight baggage which took a long time to sort out. Our main concern was that we may not get two seats together but we were OK. The passage through security was thorough but one of the easiest passages we have had. Into the departure lounge quite unstressed, where we had a drink and a bacon bap. We got on board the Transat Airbus 310 in good time but had to wait 30 mins for a clubclass passenger who was late. Someone who obviously was more important than the rest of us put together. The seats were very comfortable and there was more legroom than we had on the jumbo with BA last year – all in all a pleasant experience.

We arrived about 30 mins late, had a relatively easy passage through airport controls apart from a mercifully brief encounter with a fairly miserable immigration officer who'd had a charisma bypass. I thought of asking him if he was having problems with his piles but decided that I should hold my tongue. We emerged to see Ollie and Ang waiting for us at the arrivals gate.

The rain had followed us to Toronto and a heavy mist shrouded the city but we managed to see some of the landmarks on the way to the hotel.

After a nice meal served by a very attentive waitress who really understood customer service, we went on a walk through Chinatown in the rain – at least it was not cold! Back at the hotel, Sue & I had an early night (well it was 03:00 our time).
]]> Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=3125 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24750 0 43.6666667 -79.4166667 But, as Im sitting here in the middle of the night, trying to rewrite old papers (ill explain) and write new ones, theres this feeling of uneasiness that Im not ashamed to talk about. A week ago, someone climbed through our apartment window and into my room, creeping all over the place I am living. They came in and spray drugged us (a common thing in Italy I was told by the polizia), and took every valuable thing I own. Dont get me wrong, thank GOD my apartment mates and I are safe.

Seriously. Someone sneaking around in the place where I live and sleep. It just gives me the shivers.

So they came in and stole all of my belongings. My cool volcom backpack, with all of my school books, notes, and notebooks in it; my laptop with all three essays I had finished, that I now have to rewrite, all the music and pictures Ive had for the past 3 years, with a few of them backed up but practically gone; my ipod, that i conveniently put in my backpack pocket the day before; my razr phone with an american number on it that I fell asleep with In My Hand!; my wallet.....basically everything.

So waking up the next morning to find the window open and our stuff gone, was unsettling to say the least. At first it seemed so utterly ridiculous that anyone would have stolen our stuff in the few hours we had been asleep..but, nope..I guess I can say Ive gotten the total Italian experience now hahaha...

The police station took hours, and they sent us away and we had to come back. Then when we got back everything had to be interpreted and for some reason the police man didnt ask Rhianon or I any questions about the theft except what was stolen, when most of it happened to us, and he asked Karla everything when she was in the other room. I dont know, I mentioned something about it but I think he just wanted to get home.

After that I had to find a way to get money, because I had absolutely no cash and no card. So Accent lent me a mean 100 euro to get me through the next week until I could get a new card and PIN number. Also, I had to fill out all this paper work and try to get it in to LoJack for my computer, on the slight chance that it can be recovered...but who knows. I doubt it. Its time to budget even more to replace all the electronics that were stolen. And the sad thing is all the memories that are now gone. All of my Rome pictures, and there were over 500--some of them really good too!! All of my pictures from the last few years and the music that Ive had since forever! Gah!

Also theres this huge insecurity in our apartment. Its like at all times you just know its not safe. Living a floor above the main street is just unsettling, especially when you know someone has been inside the apartment already, and there really was nothing that could have been done to prevent it. Its really hard to get any work done either, since our apartment is basically a toilet, two rooms with four beds, and a tiny kitchen...its difficult to get stuff done when you're surrounded. But nevertheless I continue, theres only two weeks left, and I have three papers to write in the next few days, and one after that for Monday, and then its finals. I still want to have an enjoyable time, but with the stress, insecurity, and worry..we all feel thats its very difficult to concentrate. Its not that Im not learning, and its not that Im not absorbing the information and culture and everything I came here to do. Its just at a point where its very...difficult]]> Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=3023 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24748 0 41.9 12.4833333
the aquarium
For some reason, I thought it was an acceptable plan to drive twelve hours straight from Albuquerque to Austin by myself. I meant to leave around 6 or 7 in the morning, but didn't wake up until that time and left around 8. Driving through Eastern New Mexico (I took a variety of US highways instead of the interstate to get in on the shortest distance between two places is a straight line and learned there is a reason people take interstates) was a fascinating and at times nerve-racking experience. There were large birds, possibly vultures or maybe hawks, eating roadkill all the way through NM, and every time I passed them they would swoop up and almost collide with my car, at one point forcing me to swerve into the thankfully empty opposite lane. But it was deserted except for some trucks, and a few other roadtrippers with bike racks or roof racks. It was beautiful countryside and slowly turned from sparse desert landscape into lush, humid landscape as NM gave way to West Texas gave way to Central Texas.

West Texas is a collection of near-abandoned towns with faded gas stations displaying prices not seen for years and shuttered roadside restaurants where I gladly would have stopped for a meal had they been open. The speed limit slows through these towns, forcing you to look around and notice the desolation in anticipation of the next generation of ghost towns. Many of the towns had one or two houses with new trucks and tv satellites in the yard, most likely owners of the farms that lined the highway. Then thirty miles before Austin, you hit dense suburbs which carry you into the city.

After going a little too far down a street, I made it to my CS host's house north of UT Austin. That night I was too tired to do much. My time in Austin consisted of Cafe Epoch down the street, the Austin Museum of Art (showing Lewittx2), The Mexic-Arte Museum, downtown and yummy tex-mex.

I went out that Tuesday night with Haley (my host) and some of her friends (they were celebrating one of them turning 21), first checking out some blues at Antone's, then doing a pub-crawl including the Aquarium (free birthday shot and t-shirt on your 21st), the Library (more free b-day shots), Cheers (which has crazy flaming shots), and finally Rain, a cheesy gay bar with a great patio, a stripper pole and a light up dance floor.

I was tired when I reached Austin and spent a good amount of time just vegging and recharging my batteries, but I also go to see a lot of the best the town has to offer. My favorite place was probably the Mexic-Arte Museum, which had an amazing exhibit on Aztec-Maya revival art the was very historically contextualized and which included everything from Mayan and Aztec artifacts to pulp mummy film paraphernalia from the 40's and 50's, including an actual clip of a film.]]> Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2878 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24747 0 30.26694 -97.74278 I left Tucson Thursday morning and headed to Holbrook, AZ where I spent the night amongst half-dead crickets in a cheap motel. I watched tv and spent some downtime by myself, something I take for granted when I am home. It was only about 5 hours to Holbrook, but I saw some beautiful sights in the two native american reservations which US-77 cuts through.

The next day I drove about 5 more hours to Albuquerque, part of the way through some bad thunderstorms. All along I-40 through the Eastern side of Arizona and Western New Mexico are stores "run" by Navajo people, though most of them are by now corporatized or have multiple locations. I stopped at one that was not a chain and appeared to be more authentic. I bought some fry bread with cinnamon and sugar and looked at the hand crafted pottery, beaded belts, jewelry, mocassins and dream catchers.

When I got into Albuquerque, or 'Burque as its known by many locals, for the old Spanish spelling AlbuRquerque, my couchsurfing (CS) host's previous couch surfer was still there. We chatted a bit and I gave her a ride to the airport and we made plans to meet up in New Orleans when we were both there.

tropical treat

The rest of the weekend, I explored cafe's and local shops on my own, went out more with Miriam, Matie and Dawn and soaked up the town. Miriam told me about 'The Flea Mart' which is a large indoor flea market with several vendors displaying their wares. They have already cheap prices and crazy discounts. I got vintage postcards for less than a dollar each, a set of coasters with my grandmother's initials on them and some vintage ties from an estate sale to give to a friend.

I even got to go to the gym with Matie and her friend Naomi, who I later met out for dinner and jazz in Old Albuquerque, which is not that old looking anymore....]]> Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2878 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24746 0 35.08444 -106.65056 Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2816 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24744 0 59.8944444 30.2641667 This morning there where 3 explosions on buses near my work. Not my apartment I was nowhere near. 3 people have been killed, unsure of the motives etc.

Quite a good report on it here www.gokunming.com/en it should be on th emain page.

Just thought i'd let you all know/

Strange atmosphere is town today and my bus to work was very quiet!

PLEASE DONT WORRY TOO MUCH :)

Dan
]]> Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2288 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24728 0 25.0388889 102.7183333 This is a test]]> Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=3119 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24680 0 41.3833333 2.1833333 This is a test]]> Mon, 21 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=3119 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24679 0 41.3833333 2.1833333 Adrianita, lo primero que me encuentro es tu nombre en este blog y no sabes la alegria que me das, yo pensaba que ya te habias olvidado de mi, y eso si que no te lo perdonaria en la vida! jajajaja Agradezco muchisimo que con expreses tus sentimientos y pensares, eso me anima mucho a seguir adelante con esta aventurota.

Luisilla. Como que andas de boda? Y ahora quien se murio? Digo quien se caso? Y luego se les ocurre casarse en Madrid con el caloron ese que mas bien parece que te metes a un horno en lugar de una iglesia y te cocinas en tu propio jugo jajajajajajaj Que asco!

Bueno, nosotros hemos llegado a Chiang Mai ayer, despues de 2 dias de treking; aunque a decir verdad no se si fue treking o tortura china.
Todo comenzo muy bonito. Vinieron a buscarnos en un transporte chachi, luego de 20 paradas en no se donde y para que, por fin llegamos a un lugar por alla, perdido en la montaña, y nos dieron nuestro lung, una cajita con arroz (siempre arroz por aqui) frito y comenzamos a caminar. Los primero 10 minutos estuvieron bien, pero al cabo de 15 yo ya no podia ni respirar, vamos que no se ni como llegue a la cima de la pequeñisima primera colina que pisamos. Claro que me bañe con repelente de antimosquitos por eso tampoco se me hizo tan duro, pero ahora que lo pienso no se ni siquiera si tuve tiempo de pensar que estaba en el bosque rodeada de bichos, creo que mi cerebro dejo de funcionar, era como Mafalda: concentrarse y no pensar.
Bueno, y asi pasaron unas cuantas horas, hicimos 3 paradas de 10 minutos cada una y llegamos al pequeño "pueblito" hacia las 5 de la tarde. Llegamos al Village de la gente "long neck" se llama asi porque las chicas se ponen desde los 5 años unos aros de bronce en el cuello, y no dejan de enredarse esas cosas hasta que se casan (que suertudas, no?!!) y total, que el cuello se les va alargando y los hombros cayendo, y ni que contarles de los aros que se ponen por debajo de las rodillas. Fui muy ingenua al preguntar si eso se lo quitan para dormir, la respuesta fue: No,nunca.
Y si no tienes dinero para comprar bronce? Ah, pues entonces, te perforan el lobulo de la oreja como de 5 centimetros o mas y te ponen una cosa redonda dentro.
Que lindos! No? Yo pensaba que tendria que darles un par de bofetones para que despertaran de su pesadilla. Pero no pude, Carlos no me dejo.
Luego cenamos un monton de arroz blanco con una ensalada cocida (guuuuuuuuuuua) que estaba muy buena y un poco de no se que caldo verde con unos trozos (que nunca vi) de pollo, Carlos fue muy suertudo, encontro algun pedazo nadando por arriba del caldo.
Yo tuve que coger mi plato para poder comer, antes de que las hormigas se lo llevaran todo, y como encima no habia mas luz que 3 velas a medio morir, pues a ves lo que yo veia: nada.
Y bueno, al baño???? Como la cancion mexicana dice: Me aguante hasta donde pude...y acabe llorando a mares...donde no me vieras tuuuuuuuuuuu....
Lo use hasta la mañana siguiente. No veia ni mi la palma de mi mano, como voy a encontrar el baño?
Dormimos en una cabaña de bambu: 2 chicas inglesas, una china, una sueca (que por cierto con ella hicimos muy buenas migas desde el principio porque nos conto que habia vivido en Mexico 4 años y le encantaba Mexico y los mexicanos. No estoy muy segura de que le gustara una como yo, pero bueno, hemos hecho el intento y ahora somos amigas, bueno y Carlos tambien, haciendo relaciones humanas para España), el Carlitos y yo.
Como no podiamos ver ni donde nos acostabamos la chica sueca, Maria, se encontro que habia tenido como almohada a un gato, y yo, que aunque habia tenido mosquitera, tenia 2 moscos dentro.
El desayuno no estuvo mal, y aunque la mermelada no parecia mermelada, ni la mantequilla, mantequilla. Yo me eche mis dos tostadas, comi sandia y me tome un cafe, de esos que a Carlos le producen arcadas. jajajajajaja
Volvimos a caminar durante 2 horas, y cuando al fin llegamos al rio, todas las chicas se volvieron locas porque por fin llegaban al lugar preciado del treking: Manejar elefantes.
Al principio, debo confesar, me encanto la idea a mi tambien. Pero sinceramente, despues de ver lo que vi, me he arrepentido mil veces de haberme subido al pobre animal.
Yo creo que los animales sufren junto a nosotros, los seres humanos; pienso que un dia tomaran conciencia de lo mal que los tratamos y entonces nos mandaran a la chingada y se rebelaran. Como tiene que ser coño!! Que malos somos, que mal nos portamos con la naturaleza y con los animales. Dios no existe, porque si existiera no permitiria que actuaramos con tal maldad, hipocresia y descaro de esa manera. No permitiria que se maltratara a la madre tierra como lo hacemos. No lo permitiria.
Un dia se nos va acabar lo que tenemos, lo que la tierra, tan buenamente, nos provee; y entonces nos va a llevar la chigada. Os lo digo de verdad.
Ahora si que no me vuelvo a montar en ningun animal y menos sacarme una foto, ni a disfrutar con el sufrimiento ajeno, ni por todos los trekings del mundo, ni por todo el dinero.
Despues del mal sabor de boca, nos dieron el lunch, os lo digo en serio, no podia ni tragar la comida, tenia un nudo en la garganta. Aun asi, pude echar un vistazo y me parece que habia arroz (oootra vez) verdura, tomate (mmmmm), pepino, etc.
Despues vino lo bueno, nos llevaron hacer rafting, creo que nunca me he reido mas en mi vida, claro que despues no aguantaba el dolor de estomago de reirme, pero de los demas, porque nos subieron a una balsa de bambu, y creo que mi juguete preferido fue la chica china, la sueca le gritaba enfadada: SIENTATE!!! porque ella se levantaba cada 2 por 3 porque se ponia nerviosa. Claro que si una sueca de 1.80mts me dice que me siente, yo tranquilita, me siento tambien. jajajajajaja

Ya Carlos les dara su version de los hechos, esta ha sido mi experiencia, podria contarles muchas cosas, pero mejor quedamos cuando volvamos a vernos y entonces, los que me conocen, sabran que hasta se los dramatizare y todo, no puedo evitar manotear y gesticular mucho cuando hablo, y ni que decir cuando me rio...me escucha todo dios! jajaja

Le mando un beso a todos y seguimos en contacto!

Noemi]]> Sun, 20 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=2664 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=24677 0 18.7902778 98.9816667