A road trip of memories

My worst fear has come true. No, not crashing in a plane or being robbed. Days after I said bye to my sisters at the San Francisco airport, I got the dreaded email that said, "call home when you can". I knew the moment I saw it that my Opa had passed away. 
I sat on a picnic table in the arid desert heat, crying and thinking back to the last conversation with my Opa. I had called him and he said he missed me. Words I never thought I'd actually hear him verbalize but he did. 
I remember the first time I told him about our trip. He was shocked, and a bit angry and hurt. "A lot of people die in a year, you know", he responded through a choked voice. But if you know my Opa, you know he's got a tough exterior, necessary for protecting his soft, warm heart. I understood that I had hurt his feelings by leaving. It was my number one concern to leave my Opa who I had become especially close with in the past few years. We were best friends. And I loved him. And he loved me. His support for me was unfaltering, and he put his own worries and emotions aside for me. The night before we left, I went to say goodbye to him and he told me he was happy I was going to see the world and have an adventure. I don't think he knows how much his words and support meant to me.
I was so close. Only 27 sleeps away from crossing the border and driving to his house, just like I'd be thinking about the past 11 months. Only 27 days until I could see him again and give him a hug and tell him how much I loved him and that I missed him, instead of leaving messages on his phone or sending postcards. Only 27 days until I could share my adventures and pictures of the places we'd been. Just like he did during our afternoons together, going through slides of his travels with Oma and Mom through Europe and America. We'd flip through them one by one and he'd have a great story for each image. I think it's safe to say we shared a passion for travel. And I loved these moments together. 
The day after I got the news, we had a long drive from our stop in Rachel, Nevada, a tiny town with only about 55 people, known for the highest number of sitings of UFOs, given its close proximity to the infamous, Area 51. The trip involved a whole lot of nothing. It was a beautiful nothing though. Red coloured cliffs surrounded us, and on either side of the open road ahead, lay barren land, covered with shrubs and cacti. I didn't sleep well the night before, my mind unsettled, despite the uplifting Skype chat with my parents where we shared memories of Opa and grief at his passing. So Aran drove, and I stared out the window, thinking about Opa. 
My childhood memories of trips to the Ariss "mall", as he jokingly called it, where he'd treat us to loads of candy, that Oma would scold him for when we got home. Laughing with Holly and Robyn, when he'd belt out the last hymn in church with supreme gusto. He and Oma would always come out to my horseback riding shows, where he'd pat my horse's neck, telling me, "he's a nice horse". Opa was continuously trying to share all his treasures with us. Photos, furniture, bikes, clothes...you name, he had it. To say he liked shopping was an understatement. His favourite line, "I never seen a bike that nice, you?". 
During the last few years, most of the time we spent together, was driving up to Elmira on weekends to visit my Oma at the nursing home. On her good days, we'd laugh with her as she giggled or smiled about nothing. And on her bad days, we'd share some tears at the injustice of her situation, fighting the nasty Alzheimer's disease that took her away from us. 
It was on these visits that I got to see a different side to my Opa. Sometimes I'd come into my Oma's room to find my Opa singing to her or telling her the latest news with me, Robyn, or Holly. 
I would often pick him up in Aran's Jeep, and he would always tell me what a nice Jeep it was...a smooth ride. If I turned up with my Cav, he'd frown and say, "no Jeep today?". Sitting in the Jeep together, he'd tell me stories of his childhood in Holland. Like the time he kicked a dog in the head after it chased him while he was delivering newspapers on his bicycle. The dog was running after him nipping and growling, so he gave it a swift thump, it yelped and collapsed in the ditch. He looked all around to make sure no one had seen and took off, his heart thumping in his ears. The next time he went back to that farm, the owner of the dog was waiting at the end of the lane way. "Tony!", he said, "Have you seen my dog? I can't find him anywhere!". And then my Opa would look sheepishly at me and tell me how he'd replied, oh so innocently, "Why no, I haven't...son of a gun". And then came the classic, contagious, wheezing, Drenters laugh, "heh heh heh", that he'd got away with it. We shared some great laughs together. 

Other times, he would get real sad when I told him the simplest stories. He welled up when I told him a story about a triathlon winner who waited at the finish line to high five all the participants as they finished. He was touched to the core by the slightest display of humanity. Sometimes he would open up to me about Mom, telling me how lucky he felt to have a daughter like my Mom. "She does everything for me", he'd say. Don't I know it, I thought. 

Aran drove us through to Kanab, Utah, right near the border of Arizona, and only 80 miles from the Grand Canyon. We didn't realize this town was known as Little Hollywood for its role in hosting plenty of Westerns created from the '30's to the '70's. All around town plaques highlight the actors and actresses who lived and worked in the area including The Rat Pack, and Don Knotts. As we wandered around I thought about how much my Opa would have loved this place. I had visions of him in the living room, feet propped up on the sofa, a whiskey poured, a cigar lit, watching a Western with the fire blazing. 

I have made the decision not to fly home for the service today. Some people may not understand this. That's OK. There are moments when I don't understand it myself. I've been agonizing over it and dealing with all the emotions that come when you lose someone so important in your life.  I've made the decision with Aran by my side, willing to support anything I wanted to do. I've made this decision with my family's support, my Mom having already arranged for the burial ceremony to take place when we get home. And I've also made this decision knowing my Opa would tell me to keep traveling. 
It'll be a different road trip now. It'll give me time to accept that I'll be coming home not to say hello, but to say goodbye to my Opa. 

I never met a man like that...you?

A Special Delivery

Well, we're on the road again. This time we've rented a car for the last leg of our journey, that will take us across the United States of America, to Buffalo and home.
After landing in LA, we spent five days on the scenic Pacific Coast highway, enjoying our last few days of ocean air. It was a great time filled with anxiety about meeting Holly and Robyn in San Francisco. Waiting in the airport terminal I was giddy to say the least! Then, there they were...let the good times roll.
During our 8 day vacation together, Holly asked if my next blog would be about their visit. Knowing I'd be on the road, I told her it would be tough...maybe she could do it?
And so not even 24 hours after she got home, Holly had sent me a blog. (Damn! If only could pump 'em out that fast...I am also responsible for it taking so long to be posted! I do recall Holly clenching her jaw when I'd start a 12-page essay for a Uni course, the night before it was due.
So here it is...and I couldn't have captured it better myself. 

When Renee told me her and Aran were thinking about taking off for a year to see the world, I have to admit I had mixed emotions. I was proud, I was scared, and I was sad and happy all at once. I knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I knew the timing was perfect. They have the means, they have no kids…yet (yes I still have hope), and they both wanted it more than anything. Part of me wondered how I’d manage without her. If you know us O’Drowsky’s, you know we’re not only sisters, we’re best friends. What if I needed her? What if I needed to vent, to cry? How would I get in touch? What if she needed me? I wondered if we could ever be the same with so much distance between us.   

I still remember the way she looked at me when she told me they were going for it…we were sitting in The Cornerstone downtown and she asked my opinion about it all.  But I know now she wasn’t looking for my approval or my blessing. She already knew I’d have her back no matter what.  This was just her way of easing me into it, and I realized at that moment, for sure there would be no backing out, no changing their minds.  They were off to see the world.
 

Naturally, as soon as they left, we were trying to figure out where we could meet up with them. We talked about Vietnam, Hawaii, and finally settled on California, or more broadly put by Robyn, we settled on ‘Murca.  After eleven months of separation from a sibling, you can imagine the excitement we felt when we finally booked those flights. And so the countdown began.  I think the month it took from booking to leaving, actually felt longer than the entire eleven months themselves! 

After surviving a ridiculous ordeal at the Toronto airport, a “scary” landing in San Fran, we breezed out into the Arrivals gate; somehow bypassing Baggage Claim, (you can see we aren’t seasoned travelers), where I immediately noticed a tall, dark and (yes Aran I’m saying it), handsome man waiting there for us. I said to Robyn, “Is that Aran? Has he lost like 20 pounds?!”.  Not long after we saw Rennie, hidden by the crowds of people, her much longer and lighter hair, curly and lovely. They looked so good, so happy and I was ecstatic to put my arms around them both, after so long. 

We spent four amazing days exploring the streets of San Francisco.  We saw Coit Tower, we walked, and walked, and walked some more.  We took every form of Muni transportation available. We biked across the Golden Gate Bridge to the beautiful little town of Sausalito, and then ferried our way back. We toured AT&T stadium, home of the Giants. We braved the metro into Oakland to see the Athletics take on

the Red Sox. We met Quinte Sangria, wine merchant at the Ferry Tower.  We drove the steep and winding roads to Muir Woods, for a lovely Sunday hike. Robyn noted that she’d exercised more in 3 days, than she had in the month of June ha ha.  It’s to be expected with these two! The last half of our trip we stayed in a cozy little cottage in Santa Rosa, with a pool, two cute dogs to keep us company and all the comforts of home.  This was definitely when the true vacation began.  Santa Rosa brought us lazy days by the pool, shopping (Aran and I could do some serious damage together in a mall), night markets, frozen yogurt, Pilates, and drunken game nights.  We took a day to explore Sonoma and Napa, and Aran graciously

offered to drive as the three of us got day drunk at several wine tastings.  Words cannot describe and pictures don’t really capture the beauty of California wine country. We were blown away by the views, the rolling hills, the massive estates and gorgeous wineries the area boasted.   Everyday was great. And everyday I woke up thinking; we’re all together and just knowing both my beautiful sisters and my “big brother” were there, I felt calm, and extremely happy.
I’ll never listen to Go Your Own Way again without thinking of our hilariously fun road trip down the Silverado Trail as we belted out every word in unison (with some goat sounds thrown in for good fun).  I’ll never pass another Macy’s without giggling to myself about a cute and helpful lady we met on our first day. I’ll always smile reliving our newly coined phrases like ‘Murca, Getcha Gotcha, and Kettle Corn, Kettle Corn!  We created so many memories in 8 days. I will never forget this trip and all the fun we had together.  And without a doubt my favourite part of the trip entirely, was the laughter, laughing so hard my stomach hurt, laughing so hard we cried.
Before leaving for California, I asked myself “I wonder how they’ll have changed”, and aside from being much more knowledgeable about traveling, and more patient (with the world and each other), they are the still the same Rennie and Aran that left us almost a year ago. Obviously they still have their spats (all couples do), but they come together like a well oiled machine. They are a team. They look at each other and you know how much love is between them. You know they are the best of friends and they will always have each others back. 

And the next time, maybe in a few years, when Renee sits me down at With the Grain or Red Brick and tells me they are doing it all again, some repeat countries, some new adventures, I’ll smile and tell her to go for it, and this time without hesitation. Because I know she’s made of tough stuff, because I know she’s that much more experienced, because she’ll once again have her best friend by her side, and because I’ve learned, no amount of time and space could ever change the relationship we share.

The Nomad Network

Naturally we've met a lot of people on this journey...fascinating people with incredibly interesting travel tales. 

When we met a fun family from Melbourne, while travelling through Laos and Cambodia, I was instantly drawn to their dynamic. With three children, I couldn't help but think of my family, and found myself overwhelmed by a rush of nostalgia from childhood trips. I really would love for all of us to go on another one together. It would be an understatement to say I'm excited to be meeting up with my sisters in sunny San Fran in less than a week!

Oddly enough we didn't meet many Canadians but the three Canucks did run into as we crossed the border into Laos made up for it. I could just tell they were Canadian…friendly faces, you know? While we waited in the crowded line to fill out our entry forms,

we made small talk, sharing the typical traveller profile: Where are you from? Where are you going? Where have you been? How long have you been on the road? You use the answers and attitude of the personal as an indication of whether you feel you can connect. So I wasn't surprised that we caught up with Dan, Emma and Matt again in Vang Vieng for some drinks and bowling!
It's amazing how many people are out there exploring the world on their own. I have a strong admiration for these individuals. Traveling alone helps you develop independence and a seriously tough exterior. And you have the opportunity to really understand a new side of yourself. I was most impressed with solo women. Like Becky, who we met in our first days in Africa while staying at the same camp in Nairobi. This young, bold, brave Amercian girl was our tour guide into the scary city, speaking Swahili to negotiate us avocados, and navigating us through the chaotic streets. 

And while I know it wouldn't be easy, there is definitely an appeal to being on your own. You go where you want, when you want, you decide where to eat and all your own moves. There would definitely be peaceful times of growth and solitude, which is particularly appealing to my introvert personality. In fact, I like that I would be forced to seek out other people, pushing the comfort zone to tap into the Nomad Network.  
In a camper park in Picton, New Zealand, we met Dave from California, when he knocked on our window to offer us a basil plant! He had been touring the South Island and was returning his wheels the next morning. Not only did he share his plant with us, he gave us a whole bunch of food, and together we drank his leftover booze. In return we offered our two cents for his onward journey to where we had come from. I won't lie, I was a tad jealous to learn he was headed toward Thailand and India.  A few days later we caught up again for a tour of Wellington's best drinking spots with Dave and his friends. We had such a fun night we topped it off with brunch the next morning!
Over a couple of beers at our camp in Chipata, Zambia, we got chatting with Gary from the Netherlands. We had such a great time that we met up with Gary about a week later in Livingstone for some fried caterpillars and of course, a Mosi. 
Another friendly Dutchman was Jean-Louise, who we met in Kratie, Cambodia. We stayed at the same hostel together and shared the tuk tuk trip out to see the dolphins. A week later we caught up in Phnom Penh, where we spent the day touring Cambodia's dark history.
These guys sure seemed to enjoy solitary travel, but there would definitely be down sides to going it alone. You don't have someone to bounce ideas off of, someone to share the numerous frustrations you will no doubt experience, someone to flip out in front of after a challenging day in Delhi. You become less of a target for scams and always have a buddy for those dark walks home. Plus you get to share the cost of rooms and transport. And during those times when your both experiencing something incredible you don't have to talk. They will be the one person you don't have to explain how it felt to be in that moment. Sure, there'll be others willing to listen to your stories or read your blog, but the feelings and emotions can only pass between you and your travel partner.

When I consider what Aran and I have been through together, I can only imagine the secret magic moments shared between all the other couples we met.
Like John and Linda, for example. the rolodex of memories these retired Kiwis have packed away having been on the road for nine years must be huge. They even wrote a book about their adventures. (if you're interested here's the link http://www.lulu.com/shop/john-hutton/off-our-rockers/paperback/product-2617776.html)

They were cool to say the least and had an easy-goingness about them that was palpable. We chatted over breakfast in Blantyre, Malawi while I recovered from a bacterial infection. I've got to mention that Linda is originally from Canada. And in addition to the travel advice they shared with us, they also taught us a fantastic game that was essential in the art of time-killing throughout our trip.

Another incredible couple we met were Steven and Taresa from the US. Coincidentally, we met them when we met Gary in Chipata. It was pretty much just the 5 of us crashing at this lodge. Anyway, these two packed up and hit the roads in Africa on bikes. Seriously! Can you say hard core? Yet they were so nonchalant and down to earth. They inspired a real sense of adventure and we had a blast spending the day zip-lining, gorge swinging and abseiling into the Batoka Gorge in Zambia with them. Since then, they've hooked us up with places to stay among friends and family for our 5 day drive from LA to San Fran. 
Then there was Lee and James. Not even a week into our trip, we all ended up on the same safari in the Masai Mara. We'd huddle up on the benches in the camp kitchen to eat dinner and swap animal encounters of the day. Plus we'd got to know each other and what brought us to Africa. They were at the end of 8 weeks in Kenya, where James was working for AMREF, the African Medical and Research Foundation, while Lee filled her days volunteering at a local orphanage. Ten months later we're crashing with them in Bondi Beach where they've spoiled us with home-cooked meals, tours of their neighbourhood and a trip to the Blue Mountains. It's been so nice catching up and finding that we had found two new friends in this world. 
We've become part of the Nomad Network. Travellers seeking each other out for understanding, story-swapping, travel tips, encouragement and friendship. 

It's funny. As I think back to all the folks we've met along the way, those who we connected with the most were in Africa. And I'm starting to believe that the strength of the Nomad Network is directly correlated to the "difficulty" level of the country. I think people seek each other out in Africa just to hear someone else say that they understand what you're feeling. It's much the same with India. That's why it was so nice to sit down with people like Stephanie and Glenys, our new friends from New Zealand, to share a laugh at the discoveries and bamboozlement we'd encountered. I think that's also why you instantly feel connected to these people because you can share feelings that only fellow nomads can appreciate. Maybe that's why travellers are so willing to extend hospitality to each other. They know that there's nothing better than to be welcomed by locals when visiting a country. 
It's easy to feel a connection with other travelers because you share a common love for exploration. I love meeting new people because we get to hear where they've been, and what they've done and that is inspiring! I sit listening, continually adding to my mental list of places to visit.  
Places to visit with Aran, of course.

A good friend and co-worker made a comment before I left that has stuck with me to this day. "How lucky you are", she said, "to have a partner who will embark on this trip with you!". Then she gave me a big hug and wished me good luck.

Later I thought, no kidding. Aran and I were both lucky not just to be doing this trip but that we both wanted this. Equally. So when I worried about finances or he freaked about logistics like where all of our stuff was going to go, we had each other for support.

And so it was with each couple we met. They had found someone who was on the same page and shared the same sense of adventure and passion for travel, oh, and a willingess to put up with each other for a long time. 

Someone who will go out to get you apple juice and crackers when you're in bed for 4 days with that bacterial infection. Someone who will wash the blood out of your hair and snip out your stitches. Someone who will listen to your nightmares at 3am after the malaria pills kick it into high gear. Someone who will bike all the way back to your guesthouse in Zomba because you feel like crap, and you forgot your camera. Someone who'll review your blog. Someone who will grab the Indian guy crawling over your shoulder while you try to order train tickets, by the throat, telling him to wait his freekin' turn! Someone who puts out his arm to save you being run over in Mumbai's crazy streets, or to prevent your foot from landing in a pile of cow poo! Someone to share the last sip of your banana coffee shake in Laos and who quickly orders you another basket of sticky rice when you accidentally eat an entire chilli. Someone who makes you laugh so hard the tears stream down your face, and smile so big it hurts. 
It's hard to find that someone. I'm sure glad I did. 

Free-wheeling New Zealand

For the better part of this trip I tried to minimize my expectations. And consistently under-hyping each country and being as open-minded as possible as we crossed new borders led to happy times.

One place I couldn't help but have big, wonderful expectations for was New Zealand. 

I blame some of my expectations on Dani, my amazing friend who spent a year living and traveling around NZ. We share a love for the outdoors, and talking to her before we left pumped me up. When we started to plan our time in NZ, I pulled out the tramping guide book she sent me off with like a kid rediscovering a favourite toy. I poured over the book, and the scrap piece of paper tucked inside with a list of suggestions in Dani's handwriting. Add in the fact that we'd have our own wheels AND the ability to make our own meals, and I was giddy.

Lucky for us....New Zealand did not disappoint.

From the moment we got outside the terminal in Auckland we knew we'd hit the jackpot. After months of breathing stinky sewers and toxic fumes in Asia, we practically overdosed on quality oxygen. Awesome. I beamed at Aran as we took the optional, outdoor footpath between the International and Domestic terminals. The little sign indicating the distance and approximate time to complete the walk was only the beginning of the organization that was ahead. When it comes to conservation and nature, New Zealand has its shit together. 

Now, one expectation we had been warned about by fellow travelers,  Matt and Tara, was that New Zealand was not cheap. Avocados, for example, which GROW in the country, are $2.50 each! A can of coke is $3.50...that's for 355ml, friends. The cheapest coffee we came across was $3.50, and that price is not because it is fair trade. At $6 an hour, internet was the worst, and a big reason this blog is so tardy.

Needless to say we were now officially watching the budget, and we naturally took advantage of all things free in NZ. 

After getting moved into our camper on the first night in Christchurch, we went to make dinner in the camp kitchen only to discover a bucket marked “FREE”. We scored salt and pepper, tea, coffee, spices, tin foil and even a big bag of pasta! Exciting times!

And instead of paying to go online we made use of the free internet at public libraries. Sometimes we’d go to McDonald’s, but the free WiFi was offset by the effort I’d exert convincing Aran that he did not need a Big Mac meal. 

We quickly learned that our guide book was unnecessary because there are tourism centers everywhere handing out all kinds of free information. The downside being the environmental impact of all the paper and pamphlets that I would end up drowning in while trying to give Aran directions. 

Speaking of directions, the road atlas, (free with our camper rental - they wanted $21 in Australia for one!!) was another unexpected gem. Aran may not agree because I used it to navigate us down questionable looking side roads, only to end up at the start of some trail, that I would inevitably make him hike. In addition to questionable roads, it showed us the way to campsites and camper parks, national parks and hiking trails.

With our trusty camper we had the freedom to go wherever we wanted. Free to detour down a side road to Trotters Gorge, where we packed a lunch to enjoy at the end of a very steep climb up to the breathtaking lookout above. Free to enter the cultural Te Papa Museum on a cold rainy day in the windy city of Wellington. Free access to the natural phenomenons like the Franz Joseph and Fox Glaciers, and the Pancake Rocks in Punakaiki. Free to climb Te Mata peak for stupendous views of rolling green hills that continued all the way to the big blue ocean beyond. Free to stick around for a couple days in Te Anau to hang out with Aran’s cousin Roisin, who was touring NZ with her husband Bartek, and their daughter Lucinza. Free to spend quality time together. My most cherished moment with Aran was at Twelve Mile Delta campsite just north of Queenstown. We pulled into the campground and until the sun set, we skipped stones across the lake. Aran won hands down…he had one stone skip at least 20 times…it was awesome!

Free to camp! With the right vehicle, there are spots in New Zealand where you can park and camp for free. After braving a 12 km bumpy, winding, rough gravel road in the dark, we woke up, after a free night of camping, to discover Lake Monowai, its crystal clear water perfectly mirroring the snow capped mountains in the background. 

And this is one of the most fantastic things about travel in New Zealand; the freedom to explore. With signs and pointers to all places incredible, Kiwis want to share their beautiful country with you. 

In Oamaru, we asked a lady who was gardening, where to find a path we had been searching for. She sent us up through someone’s backyard. "Isn't this trespassing?", we thought as she continued to wave us on from her front lawn. I hope we don't get shot (oh wait, that's the US). You see, at this point we didn't realize that most walks and hikes in NZ run through farmers fields. You can be sure that if it looks like a path in NZ, it is. And that little step by the fence? That is indeed for you to hop on over and continue your trek past the curious sheep who will no doubt give you a look as you pass by.

Alex, the manger of our campground in Hampden, told us the touristy Moeraki Boulders could wait for another day. He then gave us directions to a special spot where yellow-eyed penguins nest. No tourists. Just me and Aran crouched down behind the tall reeds waiting for the little guys. We saw so many yellow-eyed penguins up close and personal as they made their nightly trek up the dunes into their nests. They flew out of the ocean, gliding gently onto the sand, flapped their wings and started to shuffle and hop their way up the embankment. 

It must be noted that Alex also told us about the best ice cream place in town where we got the most gigantic single (yes, SINGLE) scoop of ice cream for $2.50. 

Hands down, our best local experience was catching up with Glenys and Stephanie in Napier. We were lucky enough to meet these two wonderful women while staying in Jaisalmer, India. When they heard we were headed to their part of the world, they invited us to come visit them. And so when we rolled into Napier, Glenys welcomed us into her warm home like we were her own kids. We'd wake up in the morning and have coffee with avocado on toast in her backyard of homegrown veggies and fruits. Then we'd pile into her BMW and go exploring. We visited The Mission winery, Bluff Hill lookout and the aquarium. 
Another day we went for a walk around Lake Tutira in the morning and then had a picnic lunch at the Holt Forest Trust. After exploring this mystical forest created by a couple, passionate about  designing forest for anyone to enjoy. Our day finished up with a winding drive down to Waipaitike Beach, where we had the place to ourselves. At night, Glenys would make us a hearty, home-cooked meal, then we'd pour a glass of wine (or 2) and look through her library of books to read up on the history of the places we visited, the birds we saw and the plants we encountered. Stephanie had been away so we were lucky to get a couple of days with her as well, including two back-to-back nights with the four of us reminiscing about our experiences in India. Besides the local attractions though, Aran and I agreed learning about Glenys and her family's history on Battery Road and her family vacations at all the places she took us to was the highlight of our Napier visit.  

Glenys taught us to appreciate our own backyard. In the days we spent with her we didn't have to go far to discover the most wonderful places. And while we've decided not to drive home through Canada we will definitely be checking out more of what our hometown has to offer when we get back. Glenys reminded us how to be kids again. She is so young at heart and that's why we loved hanging around her. 

I hope when we get home we don't forget how to be free. I hope we keep exploring old railways and trails. I hope we stop to inspect weird mushrooms and listen to the birds. I hope we look up the amazing wildlife Canada has to offer. I hope we keep wishing on rainbows and hugging trees. 

Hey! Stay young and invincible
Cos we know just what we are
And come what may, we're unstoppable
Cos we know just what we are
~ Noel Gallagher

Frightened Seoul

Toward the end of our time in Taiwan we went on a long weekend to Seoul and in the days leading up to our departure we were inundated with caution from concerned family members. Fair play. If I knew someone headed toward the border of the power-crazed Kim Jong Un, I would probably be a bit worried for them too. After all, any time we tuned in to international news coverage, it was all doom and gloom from North Korea, with repeat CNN updates of the "imminent attacks" that "may" occur...at any moment...did I mention they were imminent?
Dun dun duuuuuuh
Truth is, we were both a little worried, and as we sought out information on the real deal in Korea, our personalities came shining through. Aran wanted to check all sources, watch the news and talk about the situation constantly. Me? I checked the Canadian Government travel advisory website and when they gave the all clear I was satisfied. That and, well, we had already paid for our tickets, which for me pretty much means we're going. That's the logic of my financially oriented brain. I will not be losing money because of fear mongering, end of.
So while Aran was watching TV, I stuck my fingers in my ears and "la-la-la'd". And when he left news articles open on the computer, I closed them, wanting to remain blissfully ignorant of any updates, but secretly wondering to myself, what if?
The morning of our flight, it suddenly dawned on me how my fear tolerance has been slowly dwindling throughout our trip. Funny, considering we started in Africa and slowly worked our way toward the so-called "easier"

countries. Every flight is scarier. I find myself gripping the armrest like my life depends on it during any kind of turbulence, and wondering if this will be the flight where our luck changes.
Didn't I overcome enough fears before we left?
I went reeling back to the dread that sometimes consumed me as we planned our journey. While the prospect of taking a year to travel is exciting, sitting down to actually make it happen is quite another thing. My stomach did a few flips as I listened to the nurse at the travel clinic rhyme off all the vaccinations we would need, and their potential risks...my jaw hit the floor when she told me the cost! I knew once we paid for that we were going. Financial commitment? Check.
Oh, and then there was work. Quitting your job to take off on a world adventure might seem glamorous to some, but it is downright terrifying! How will my boss react? And what will other employers think when they see a year long gap on my resume? Will anyone hire me when I get back? Will there be jobs? How will we pay for the trip? Our house?
And what will my family and friends think? We would miss the wedding of two very special people. And three incredible women in my life would be having babies! Not to mention the annual birthdays and Christmas festivities.
I'm usually fairly risk-averse so this wasn't just a leap of faith. This was a full blown, bungee jump with silly putty around my ankles.
And when we started to share our travel plans, there were plenty of high-fives and congrats, but there were also some bulging eyes and worries. Nonetheless, we were determined not to make decisions about our lives based on fear. Choosing not to go because we were scared of what might or might not happen was not an option. Plus we were so far in that I knew it wasn't possible to turn back. Without question, I would regret not going. It was fear whispering in my ear, causing me to worry that I might regret going, maybe we were just running away.

So, we talked about that and we both agreed that we weren't running away from anything either. In fact, we loved our lives. We loved living in Guelph, being close to family and friends. We loved our house and our weirdo cat. We loved being part of the Guelph Triathlon Club and we had great jobs to support our life. Sometimes that made it even harder to think about leaving.
I mean really, a whole year, just me and Aran? Would we last? Would I kill him? (I'm happy to report so far so good)
The worries I was wrought with as we scratched things off the elaborate to do list slowly disappeared. They were gone completely as we boarded the plane for big bad Africa. Once you're there these places aren't as scary as you might think.
Just like the days leading up to a big race, once you hit the water the nerves fade away and adrenaline takes over.
Seoul was no different.
A small shudder escaped me after reading an exhibit in the National War Museum that explained, quite objectively, how quickly and effectively we would all be vaporized if a nuke were dropped on Seoul. Awesome!
But, moments later I forgot all about those details when a South Korean war veteran approached me to say thank you for visiting the museum.

And yes on the metro ride to Jamsil Stadium, I wondered how long the gas masks had been set up in the stations...weeks, months, years? These thoughts passed quickly, as I got lost in the energy of the singing,

cheering, roaring crowd, who were clearly immune to the impending threat from the North. Turns out my only fear during the inter-city baseball battle of the Dusan Bears vs. the LG Twins was the possibility that my feet my fall off from the cold!
And if the game wasn’t enough to relax me, banging back shots of Sujo, while munching on fried chicken with my old friend, Alberto, sure did the trick!

So by the time we got to the spa, the not-so-frightened Seoul had reminded me of what I'd be missing if I let fear take the reins. I soaked in the hot pools after a delicious dinner of kimchi and fell asleep without a care in the world.

Room with a view

Throughout March, Paul and Eigi have graciously, "put us up"; read, "put up with us". Paul doned his tour guide hat and packed in as much as he could of this awesome island. He didn’t waste any time either...

We hadn’t been in the country even 24 hours when we went on our first Hash! And no, I don’t mean toking in a guava orchard. Until I met Paul I had not heard of the Hash House Harriers, a worldwide running group, who refer to themselves as a drinking group with a running problem. At an arranged time and place, usually on a weekly basis, the group gets together to Hash. A couple individuals volunteer to be hares and take on the task of scouting a route. On run day, they take off first, leaving behind clues and signs with chalk and playing cards for the group following, otherwise known as hounds, who must try to catch the hares. And the prize for catching a hare? Well, glory of course, and huge boasting rights at the down-down ceremony after the run. But I'll come back to that.

 



Our run started in the countryside of Kaohsiung, where we cut through farmers fields, bushwhacked up hills, ran through small residential neighbourhoods, and up through temples and bars tucked into small spaces. It was tough but so much fun! We covered about 9k and given that Aran and I have had limited exercise to date, we were pretty happy not to come last!

 

At the end of the run we feasted on chips, chocolate, energy drinks and BEER! Everyone has silly hash names and we spent probably over an hour doing, "down downs", which are nominations for a variety of reasons including poor marking by hares, being a first timer, stupid remarks, looking good, not using correct hashing names, eating the last of the candy...let’s just say there isn’t much discretion. Nominees must then ’down down’ a glass of beer in less than 5 seconds or “wear it”, dumping what’s left of the beer on your head.

All of this took place in the parking lot of a huge temple. A little old man, who told us he was 93 years old (but looked about 62), watched and laughed at our antics. Afterwards we all went out for Chinese food together...the real deal too. Tofu, fried morning glory, jasmine rice, spicy peanut chicken, duck soup, oh and more beer.           

The following weekend we joined the Hash again for a St. Patty’s day pub crawl to celebrate Aran’s birthday, and then dragged our hung-over selves out of bed to meet Eigi’s family for a seafood feast before hitting the road to Kenting, where we spent a lazy day soaking up the sun and waves at Bai Sha beach. Under the shade of our umbrella, we drank cold beers delivered by a Taiwanese man on a 4-wheeler, while watching Chinese tourists from the mainland nearly drown in the monster-waves.

A few days later it was the weekend again. This time we recovered from my birthday karaoke hangover before heading up to Nantou county. We pitched our tents on an organic tomato farm and woke up early to bike around Sun Moon Lake, stopping for Taiwan burgers and squid on a stick before continuing our hilly 30k loop, earning me an indulgent, guilt-free pastry.

Next up was a tasting tour of Tainan hosted by Eigi and her friend Emma. Honestly, the amount of food I consumed on this day rivalled some of the best (or should I say worst?) days in India.

As Emma led us into a restaurant at 8 am I felt something cold slap against me. I looked down to find a piece of raw fish dangling from my arm, and then I laughed along with the little Taiwanese lady as she peeled it off me, and threw it back in her bucket.

And so we sat down to have fish soup. For breakfast. OK, I agree, not so appealing right? This was a perfect example of how Taiwanese food has continued to surprise me. The most unappealing, ugly looking concoctions turned out to be the most flavourful, delicious treats! And the fish soup was no exception. The originally intimidating large bowl I was served was gobbled up in no time.

We digested with a wander through Chinkan Tower, an old building that used to be the home of the dude who liberated Taiwan from the Dutch. After that, we had jumbo spring rolls and Zua Bao, Taiwanese burgers made of fluffy buns stuffed with pork and peanut sauce. We washed it all down with milk tea and cucumber lemonade as we ducked down back alleyways of Tainan that led us to the Anping Tree House. Here, the Banyan trees were crawling and twisting their way through an abandoned building, making for a beautiful, and almost air-conditioned setting. Lunch was shrimp rolls and deep fried oysters and then lemon tofu pudding for dessert!

The sun got hot while we explored the Anping Fort, formerly Fort Zeelandia. Feeling lethargic, Emma took us to her friend’s cafe where we perked up with iced coffees, and well, beer.

Next up was a boat ride on a small river lined with mangrove trees, alive with scuttling crabs and fish. We even saw a few rats! After a snack of rice and fatty pork nostrils, we wrapped up the food tour with mango sticky ice! That's right. Ice, not rice. Mango pieces on shavings of ice, with coconut milk drizzled over a scoop of mango ice cream!

The travel continued the next weekend. Leaving the car behind, we jumped on the train for a visit to Taidong, where we got in a swim at the kilometre-long reservoir, earning ourselves a big lunch followed by Mwoi Chi, a Taiwanese doughnut made of rice gluten and filled with peanut butter for dessert!

The next day we headed for Jinlun, a small, aboriginal village, known for its natural hot springs, where we relaxed among locals and let the water soothe our sore arm muscles. Once again we camped with the mountains as our backdrop, and in the morning we set off for a couple days without Paul who had to get back for work...what's that?

Up in Hualien, we felt very small as we wandered through the Taroko Gorge, getting thoroughly soaked by rain and the water curtain pouring through the cracks of a large cave on the Baiyang trail.

In between these weekends away, Paul spent his mornings before work taking us to Lotus Lake and the aboriginal village of Sandimen, which included sampling local flavours like Dan Bing, eggs rolled up into crepes with bacon, and Fan Tuan, pork wrapped up in tubes of sticky rice. The eating continued with late dinners at the Liu-He and Houjing night markets to taste intestines, stinky tofu, and my favourite, Nia Pai, egg and steak with noodles in a brown sauce.

And now our days and weekends in Taiwan are over. Laundry is done and packs are stuffed. We spent today slowly cleaning up the room we've been so fortunate to stay in for the past 5 weeks.

We're going to miss this place.

We'll miss outings with Eigi and her family.
We’ll miss "good mornings" in 7-11 as we head out on road trips with Paul.
We'll miss Eigi's funny exclamations in English including our favourite, "I'm Eigi Chen! Don't worry, okaaay!" as she drives with the pedal to the metal through the streets of Kaohsiung .
We'll miss Paul's addictive morning coffees and his two crazy cats.
We’ll miss Eigi's yummy dinners and hospitality.
We'll miss endless beers, corndogs, antics and laughs.
We'll miss our room with a view.

A view of Taiwan.

And what a view it was...