It never rains, it only pours.

Soggy, is the only adjective appropriate to describe it. Maybe that’s why it has taken two weeks to come up with this post, or maybe its because Bali has been SO GOOD, we haven’t had the time. Anyway, if you took the expression its raining cats and dogs, and replaced cats and dogs with, blasting water to the face, you would have our first six days in Thailand. Couple that with flooding streets, overlay aggressive “Bar Girls,” and way to many made for TV movies, and our time in Thailand would almost seem drowned. Yet some how, some way, we still managed to have a pretty good time. 

            For many, mopeds is not the first thing that comes to mind for a solid form of transportation, but for Derek and me…. well they equaled 6 US dollars, an excellent time, and seemed the most fitting. Obviously this was the authentic way to explore the Thai island of Ko Samui. Additionally, each moped came with a safety helmet that resembled a bowling ball on your head.  So as if driving one of theses things was not hard enough, every time Derek or I looked at one another we cracked up. The constant laughing and moist conditions led to a swerve or two, but nothing serious. After about 4 hours and vicious back pains we managed to circle the entire island.  The pictures speak for themselves, but may have already considered us a hip version of the Motorcycle Diaries.

            Being that we had now seen the entire island of Ko Samui from the ground, we figured why not see it from the sky.  50 to a 100ft to be exact and zip lining was the only way to do it. I considered myself to be a seasoned veteran, because I had done this type of thing in Costa Rica 2 years before. What I did not factor and in fact over looked with arrogance was the fact that in Costa Rica, it was very dry, and in Thailand, it was very wet. This led to slippery cables, and me needing to maneuver an emergency stop, in turn breaking my sunglasses. I guess I deserved it.

            There were many positive attributes to the tree top tour. For one I got to see Derek’s face go pale before the first zip line, but more importantly it was our first interaction with the outside world in almost a week. As much as Derek and I enjoy each others company, we were relieved to find out that the tour was filled with 5 other “young adults,” who inspired us to deal with the rain and attend the island of Ko Phagnag’s world renown, Full Moon Party.

            It was 10 pm and the only thing in our way from attending one of the top 5 biggest parties in the world was an overly stuffed speed boat, and, mandatory neon life jackets required to be worn at all times. Yet despite the sketchiness of our captain, the loudness of the engines, and peculiar cast of characters that filled this boat we made it and the rage began. It was most definitely a spectacle I will never forget, or remember. 4000 people filling the beach, blasting music, flaming jump ropes, tattoo’s, mushroom shakes, body paint etc. What Derek and I choose to participate in we will leave to your imagination, but it was a great time, until the next morning.

            Overall Thailand was kind of a bust, minus the few good days on Ko Samui. We did also have 2 days in Bangkok but ironically, the princess died while we were there so the entire city shut down, wore black, and mourned.  If I could do it again I would not change a thing, except for the weather, and the death, but…..as they say in India, I guess it just was our destiny. 

“Derek, you realize that ‘essentially’, we’re vacationing in New York City, and just taking a day trip to see the White House? This is nuts!”

When we told people in Goa our next stop in India was Delhi we seemed to get a universal response, a frown, a negative headshake, and the question “why?” We got a feel for what they were talking about as we exited the domestic terminal and into the smog, noise, and most notably the “scent” of Delhi. Then in the taxi ride to our hotel, which was only about 5km, but, took a solid hour, of the grid-lock traffic, where we saw cars literally turn around and go the wrong direction on the highway, we knew exactly why no one liked Delhi. We decided that in the morning we would go to a travel agency and let them arrange how we would spend our next 48 hours in this metropolitan nightmare.
Most people think the main attraction in Delhi in the Taj Mahal; this is a common misconception. The Taj is actually in the city of Agra, which is 220km south of Delhi. Since all the trains to Agra were already booked well in advance we were disappointed to find out that we would not be able to see this impressive monument.
But….our plans quickly changed as we sat down in the tiny, generic “Interesting India” travel office. We initially went in to arrange a city tour of Old Delhi. When our agent discovered we had not seen the Taj, and were not planning on it because of the train situation, he insisted otherwise. Shortly after, we were in a private car, and on our way. Although it was not too far of a distance, (136 miles) it would take at least four hours to drive to Agra do to traffic, and poor road conditions. While we both found this crazy, the 4 hour 130 mile trip made Justin’s head spin. About an hour into the trip he looked at me and said “Derek, you realize that ‘essentially’, were vacationing in New York City, and just taking a day trip to see the White House? This is nuts!” He continued to repeat this line to just about everybody we came in contact with, but to a certain degree, it was absolutely true.
We started our drive around 12:30 and were informed by our travel agent that it was more then enough time to get to the Taj before it closed. About two hours into the drive we were a little confused when our driver started asking us about our hotel accommodations in Delhi, and if we would be opposed to staying a night in Agra. Turns out the Taj Mahal stops letting people in at 5, and because of traffic he was not sure if we were going to make it in time. Obviously we were not going to stay in Agra because we had already paid for an expensive hotel room in Delhi, and we were “guaranteed” that we would be able to see it. Justin quickly reminded him of the “guarantee” and plenty of time we were assured of in Delhi, and our driver, for fear of his job, instantly turned in to Jeff Gordon.
For the last 115km of our journey it was petal to the metal, honking constantly and weaving in and out of traffic unlike anyone I had ever seen before. Justin somehow managed to stay calm and relaxed in the front seat while I was in the back closing my eyes and flinching. To add to my anxiety our driver started making some small talk and telling us about recent bombings in Delhi. We though the area we were staying in was safe and were amazed to find out that only a month ago there was a bombing just a couple of hundred yards from the front door of our hotel, not something that made the stressful drive, a battle against time, go by any faster.
We made it to Agra at exactly 4:55 and were flagged down on the side of the road by our tour guide. There was no time for introductions because he said we had to run to the ticket gate. The only problem was because of pollution the government does not let any cars within 2km of the Taj Mahal gates, so this would be a far run, and although Justin and I are actually in decent shape, our hefty India tour guide was not. So we hopped on a bicycle rickshaw.
This was quite the sight, Justin and I squeezed on the 2 and half foot bench in the back, while our overweight guide sat backwards on the bike seat. Powering us was possibly the smallest bicycle rickshaw driver in the fleet, no older then 9 years and weighting about 70lbs. Sure enough he was able to get us moving, and quite well to. As we got to the gate our guide sprinted to the ticket counter still unsure if we were going to be able to enter. Justin and I could only wait for him to emerge and when he did with a smile on his face we were relieved, the crazy day of travel had paid off. We got in, and with exactly 2 minutes to spare.
The Taj Mahal was simply stunning; I think more impressive then the pyramids, Justin still undecided. Our guide knew all the facts and was extremely resourceful. When it came time to go inside, because he knew the guards, we were able to cut the enormous line and see the interior with some remaining daylight. This is just another example of an important principle we learned while in India that all Hindu people live by, if it is your destiny, it will happen. That day it was our destiny to see the Taj Mahal, now we just hope it is our destiny to get out of India in one piece.

Just another day at the Spa

It’s fair to say that I have gotten my fair share of spa treatments. Justin is no stranger to them either. So when we arrived to Palolem Beach in the south of Goa we were very excited to partake in the numerous $5 massage, and $1 shave huts. Being experienced “backpackers,” we obviously just couldn’t go to just any place. We needed to find, what we though, would be the best masseuse for the best price. Justin, being the king of negotiation and research, set out to find just this. After an hour, he found just the place we were looking for. A hundred yards down the beach from where we were sitting, was a small hut next to a popular beach side restaurant with a deaf masseuse that Justin claimed to be the best out of the 5 or so that he had checked out. This is where I come in, as the guinea pig, for most of the “interesting” things Justin finds.
Being that I was a little more keen on getting a massage than Justin, we decided that I would test this guy out once the sun went down. In the mean time, I went to get a shave from another place Justin discovered, this place in his words was “amazing,” and judging from the job they did on his face it was.
On the way home from the beach I stopped in the barber shack to get my treatment. After fifteen minutes of prep work, which included various crèmes and pre shave oil, the barber took a straight razor to my scruff, and I knew this was a great idea. However, about half way through my shave the power went out, meaning the florescent lamp, the only form of light was gone, leaving me in this now pitch black shack. The situation left me half shaven, with a straight razor, centimeters from my atoms apple in absolute darkness. My mind was racing, “is this guy going to stop and weight for the power to come back on? Or is he going to Sweeney Todd me, and throw my body in the back with the rest of the dumb tourist looking for a cheap shave.” The answer was neither. Instead hit did not even seem effected and lit a single candle and finished the job with perfection. Me, thinking he was going to slip and slice me was relived and impressed when the job was done. Shortly after he finished the actual shave part, the power came back on and he went on with his routine which included a 20 minute facial and a 15 minute head massage. After an hour of pampering for 200 rupees (about $4), I agreed with Justin, this was the best shave I had ever gotten. Now for the massage...
The next night I ventured down to the massage hut to find the man Justin had previously described to me. Justin told me that he had a price listed but that I should negotiate it lower because he believes the masseuse would indeed lower the price. I found this impossible considering the masseuse was deaf and after about 20 seconds I abandoned the idea and decided to pay the 500 rupees (about $10) for the hour, full body massage. With no means of communication, and not knowing what to expect, I lay down on the bed and anxiously waited for him to begin. When he entered, his first actions came as a bit of surprise. The first thing he did was to take his shirt off. Now shirtless, he poured, splashed, and covered my entire body with no less then an entire bottle of massage oil. For the rest of my life I will remain bewildered on how he massaged so deep, when I was so slippery. Justin had been right; this guy was excellent. After he was finished he insisted that I come outside of his hut and sit in a chair for him to give me my head massage. Not exactly wanting to be seen in public with this amount of oil on me couldn’t be communicated, so I (red faced) sat in his chair as he poured more oil all over my head and finished the treatment. This was all in front of, the now full, and popular restaurant next door. To say the least, I can only imagine that my facial expressions acted as some solid entertainment for the groups of people enjoying their dinner.
As I walked home all I could do was laugh and couldn’t wait to get in the shower. Of course being India, nowhere had the best water pressure and it took me a good 30 minutes of scrubbing to get to the point where I felt “less” oily. About three days later my hair and skin were completely back to normal. Although I warned Justin, he insisted on getting the same massage, and somehow communicated with the mute masseuse to use less oil, I don’t know how he did it.

“These guys even make ME feel like dancing”

The Lady Lynsey will forever have a place in my heart. Maybe, it’s because she christened me, by being the first of many “sunset cruises.” Or, perhaps the reason I remember the Lady Lynsey so well, was because she signifies the vacation where my father lost his suitcase and had to buy his entire wardrobe at K-mart. Either way, The Lady Lynsey acts as my memento to the beginning of sunset cruises, but more importantly the many “types” of sunset cruises one can embark on.

Saying goodbye to Rahul obviously was a tearjerker (seriously). Not only did he treat us like family, but also we really enjoyed hanging out with him and seeing the city from his eyes. But like all the goodbyes on this trip, Rahul’s too, was bitter sweet. With one goodbye came the next adventure, and for Derek and me, this adventure led us to the Indian state of Goa, aka the BEACH!

Much like any beach area, Goa has a coastline littered with small fishing villages all know for different things. We planned on spending 10 all over Goa and Rahul recommend we spend the first half in Anjuna beach. Anjuna was at least as our Lonely planet described, a quiet place known for its hippy atmosphere, beautiful beaches, and its Wednesday flea market. The lonely Planet stated that if you looking for more excitement you may want to try some of the other beach towns. Being the “laid back” people that we are we though Anjuna sounded perfect, we had had plenty of excitement and thought it would be nice to relax. So, when we found out that our Hotel gave us TWO free Sunset cruises, we were psyched, just another ingredient to the ultimate relaxation.

Pulling up to the wharf, was not exactly how my last sail took place. Rather, it had the honor of bringing me back to my senior year of high school graduation trip, specifically the “booze cruise”. While the boat was similar in the sense that it was a large steel mini tanker blasting techno music, the cliental couldn’t have been more different. Unlike the Bahama Mama from senior year that packed with underage Americans pouring cheep rum down there throats, the “Princess De Goa” was twice the size had three times the amount of people, and by people I mean middle class Indian families. From infants in strollers to Granny’s in wheel chairs, it seemed like the entire family made it to this epic event.

Finding a seat on this “vessel” was an entirely different story, as the engines started Derek and I looked at each other, (talking was not an option, the music was way to loud) realized we were in for an experience, and better find a seat among the maze of Indian families. The seating situation was similar to that of a sweet sixteen at a Vietnam Veterans hall, row after row, of plastic chairs all focused on one magical stage. But what happened on this stage? Curious? So were we. That is when out of his dressing room came the boat’s MC, a short, over weight Indian man in a floral button down, and his microphone. We later learned that he was responsible for fulfilling ever Indians dream and taking this cruise from epic to legendary. In actuality all he did was call up different groups of people to dance on the stage, in America no big deal, and since no body was drunk they probably wouldn’t even get a very good turn out, but….well, Indians just love to dance.

The first group to be summoned was the kids, and what a turn out. It was so funny to see 50 Indian kids just getting after it, to overly loud techno music. Derek and I were hysterical. Next came the couples, then the ladies, and finally and by far most entertaining the men. I swear to god you have never seen anything like this. From tank tops and swishy pants, to loafer wearing, tucked in polo’s every type of man flocked to the stage. (May I also add that by this time it was pitch black out, which aided greatly to the light show, forcefully focusing all of our attention to the stage) but who wouldn’t want to watch this, it was hysterical, from men jumping in the air, to swing dancing with each other, to the hoots and hollers that made there way through the blaring music, these men were having the best time, and so were we. They were spinning flaring their arms, some even took their shirts off and held flexed poses for the crowd. They did what they wanted; it was there 10 minutes on stage. While we did not muster up the courage to join them on stage, I will never forget when Derek looked at me and said “theses guys even make me feel like dancing.” Getting off the boat we felt like changed men and agreed that Indians are truly happy people. We couldn’t have been happier to add the Princess De Goa experience to our sunset cruise repetoire. Oh yeah, and a mere four days later, we got to do the whole thing again.