“Yo-od,” I hear myself stammer out as my elephant steadily lumbers towards the river--one step throws me back and threatens to upset my balance. I repeat the command to stop--but it is more of a request or a plea even. “Yood,” I say again in my most confident voice. ‘Please, please stop’ I think to myself and I hold tighter to the top of her head--pressing myself into her coarse black bristly hair and wrapping my legs tighter around her neck. She rapidly fans her pink-speckled ears--a cooling method for the elephant--and, in turn, lightly slaps my ankles. As [View Full Entry]

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We sort of get stuck in Chiang Mai. After a month in India, we are tired and we quickly succumb to the charms of Chiang Mai--both it’s easy access to all things Thai (e.g., great Thai food, Muay Thai boxing matches, inexpensive Thai massages, lots of tourist attractions) and it’s easy access to all things comfortable (I.e. wifi, coffee, and a modern mall). On our first day in Chiang Mai, we discover an excellent hole-in-the-wall restaurant near our hotel and quickly become regulars. “Oh, no thanks,” we will say to the hostess when she offers us a menu as we head [View Full Entry]

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Thailand is fantastic. That’s simply a fact. If you are a foodie, a nature lover, a history buff, an adventure seeker, or a bargain hunter--Thailand is the place for you. Pierce and I fall into a little of each category, but we openly admit that we mostly travel for food. Amid bouts of chai withdraw (I have inexplicable headaches for the first two days in Thailand), I think more and more that we went to India simply because we love Indian food--and I am ok with that. I also think that life in Seattle has prepared us well for this trip. [View Full Entry]

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In one word, India is “wacky.” Every day, I feel as if I have stumbled down the rabbit hole and awakened in a wonderland of strange sights, sounds, and characters. What’s that over there? Why, it’s a man on a camel dressed as the Hindu God Krishna (his face and torso painted in electric blue and his hair dyed black), monkeys fighting over a discarded cigarette carton, cows nonchalantly playing chicken with the on-coming tuk-tuks, and a chorus of men burping and spitting into the running gutter water. You know, typical ten minute period in India. It’s hard to b [View Full Entry]

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We have a new driver. His name is Deepa…or so I thought for the first 5 days. One day he points to a sign that reads “Deepak” and says “See? That is my small name.” He explains and slowly annunciates the two parts of his name, “Dee-pak, Dee-pak is a boy name and Deepa is a girl name.” I nod and resolve to never say his name again. Deepak is totally different than Avtar, who begins to resemble a robot in my recollection. Avtar would drive for hours without a break, we never saw him eat or drink, and he hardly [View Full Entry]

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“Does he arrive in a car or in a tuk-tuk?,” I ask the lady next to me. She is a western-looking lady with a French accent, but her native Tibetan dress and her Tibetan friends (one of whom they refer to as her “new husband”) tells me that she has been in Mcleod Ganj for a while and, therefore, I suppose this qualifies her to be my unofficial guide to the Dalai Lama’s homecoming. “A car,” she answers. I inquire further, “Does the Dalai Lama drive?” This question makes her smile a little and she replies, “Oh, no, he have a [View Full Entry]

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Three young Tibetan monks and one woman sat in a semi-circle around me--warmly smiling and contorted into various positions to fill the small floor space between us. They had ushered me here--gesturing with their arms and saying, “Please, come, come” and I had sat--succumbing their welcoming smiles and eager energy. In the absence of language, they stared at me with great anticipation--as if I might magically light on fire or begin to distill great wisdom. Now what? Minutes before, we had signed up to volunteer for the one-hour English conversation course, where newly-arrived T [View Full Entry]

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Even the cows in Jaisalmer seem happy. These cows saunter along the quiet streets, playing (and always winning) the game of chicken with each on-coming car or bike or child, absent-mindedly nibbling trash or left-over food scrapes from each store front where bowls are placed in offering for the cows, and napping in a shaded patch of earth that was described as “cow parking.” This is clearly the good life for the Indian cow and these cows know it. They own the town. On two occasions, I am nearly run down by one of these blissful little cows. A long horned [View Full Entry]

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India brings out the voyeur in me. I am continually enraptured by all of the colorfully-adorned (and sometimes interestingly-pierced) people who scatter along the Delhi streets or dodge cattle in one of the many Rajasthan cities. I snap pictures. I stare. My mind scrambles to remember each detail and begins to compose a written description immediately--trying to capture this image in any form possible. Unfortunately (and somewhat ironically), even looking comes at a price in India. “Come in Madame” a store vender will call as we walk by his shop at the market--enthusiastically [View Full Entry]

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Before we came to India, my Uncle’s Indian friend had advised that we hire a driver. I was opposed to the idea at first. That kind of luxury was reserved for the rich or the old (or both)--and I certainly didn’t belong to either category. In the end, though, I decided to try having a driver. I found a recommendation on Lonely Planet’s thorn tree website (where travelers post questions and suggestions about different destinations) and signed us up with a small, private company. Driving tourists appears to be big business in India. Some companies have fleets of cars ready t [View Full Entry]

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