Back to the Boonies

From an email to family and friends,
March 15, 2010

Here's a final post on our recent travels:

           The Ella Gap; looking towards Indian Ocean from the Hill Country



Things ended well in Sri Lanka although for a while I felt I was auditioning for the sequel to a current film that's all the rage in India called The Three Idiots ; within a week my two travel mates and I had all managed to lose or have our passports stolen. Mine I recovered within an hour, having left it in a pack (that also contained my cameras, laptop, etc) in a hotel lobby. The honest old gentleman at the desk got a nice tip. I got my heart restarted.

Gerry was not so lucky, even though his stolen passport was recovered, it was, by then, cancelled by the Canadian Consulate and it took him some weeks in SrI Lanka he had not planned for, to wait for the issue of a new one. And Marc from Manhatten found his passport the next day but missed his flight out the next day and ended up staying and doing a scuba certification instead. There are definitely worse places to be stranded.

Perhaps Sri Lanka was such a pleasant surprise because I had done so little research into the place and was advised by Gerry that it was nice but he had heard there was nothing to do there. Or maybe it was because I had just spent six weeks of fairly tough travelling in India and was expecting more of the same when I arrived in Sri Lanka on February 5. At any rate I would definitely recommend Sri Lanka for a backpacking holiday. The country was a fantastic green flowering garden everywhere I went, in the hills, on the northern plains and on the southern beaches. Huge reservoirs (called tanks by Sri Lankans) hold the monsoon rains and ensure a year round supply of water. Many of these tanks were constructed hundreds of years ago. Sri Lanks is also a cheap place to travel; local trains and buses are one cent a kilometer!!; You can travel from one end of the country to other for less than $10 cdn. We were sharing hotel rooms in the $10 to $20 cdn range that were new and clean. (a few $$ more for air con). Full restaurant meals of excellent fresh food in the $3 to $6 range, less if you ate at the food stalls on the street. As usual, no health related to food at all.16 oz. Lion Lagers (delicious), $1.40  to $2.50. Strangely satisfying when your bar bill for the day is more than your hotel room and train trip combined.

       The Beach at Marissa



Sri Lanka is so very different from India. Certainly for Sri Lankans treasure their long history and distinct cultural identity. But what this traveller first noticed in Sri Lanka was the general ease of getting around. Sri Lanka is much less crowded than other SE Asia destinations. At the train station, the ticket wicket might have 2 or three people lined up instead of fifty. We always found a train or bus seat, even in the cities and even though there was no reservation system for the trains. The same was true on long distance buses. And while the trains travel so slowly, the trips are a lot shorter in Sri Lanka than other countries. Nice hotel rooms are usually easy to come by. And the place is clean, and I mean clean by Canadian standards. Even the railway right of way often has garden maintained right up to the tracks, as opposed to endless plastic dump sites that come to mind elsewhere. And the people are friendly and polite. Outside of Columbo it was difficult for me to get any to get any sense of the obvious sinhalese\tamil tensions that still exist following the long civil war or the more recent domestic uncertainty following the  disputed presidential elections. But security forces, barricaded streets and checkpoints are ubiquitous in Columbo especially at night, and I found it a bit frightening coming into the city from the airport at night, with repeated stops by army boys with big weapons.

As for things to do, the travel itself is a delight. The rickety old train cars have no bars on the open windows, you can hang out the doors and probably wouldn't get hurt if you fell off anyway, they move so slowly. And the natural sights are spectacular, especially as the train winds it way through the Hill Country with its tea plantations, terraced rice fields, market gardens and mature untouched forests of pine, palm and eucalyptus. The ancient cities in the north are a big attraction in the guidebooks, but again, we pretty much had the impressive 10-12th century AD ruins at Polonnaruwa to ourselves as we biked about 10 kms through the gardens and forest that host the ruins. And most of the southern beaches are as reputed, real gems, especially those further away from Columbo that stand in contrast to the over-development of beaches in Thailand, Indonesia and Goa that we have visited. This may not last I fear, as the tourist mill starts to gear up in these more peaceful times. Evidence of the tsunami damage is still visible, but you have to look for it. Sadly, we are told most of the deaths were children.

         Ruins at Polonnaruwa


The beaches we stayed at were perfect. Just enough accommodation, cafes, shopping, etc without being crowded. Very nice snorkeling and coral and some good looking surf if that's your thing. And always just a quick bus ride to a larger town, if need be. But Man, it is really hot,  95 F and humid. An hour an half by bus up into the cool hill country is the cure.

One great site that seems to have clearly established its protected heritage status is the old Dutch fortress city of Galle. We spent a few days living inside the fort walls and wandering about the old streets that remain much as they were when the Dutch occupied the site in the 17th century.

The trip back to Canada was a bit of a grind. Indian officials hassled me about my visa right to the end. I thought they were not going to let me on my flight home out of Delhi. My 13 hour layover in Amsterdam gave me the time to visit the Rijksmuseum, home to Rembrandt's "Night Watch" and many other "Dutch Master" splendors. In Vancouver the Olympic party was in full swing and I caught a nice piece of it at the decrepit Ivanhoe hotel on Main Street beside the old CNR station. It was the Canada - Slovakia game and the usual winos and street people were joined by a big crowd of young European visitors from the nearby hostel flophouses in an absolutely wild celebration of Team Canada. After the game I caught a midnight bus to Penticton, spent some time with sister Terry, Jim and my mom Lou and then drove my truck back to PA and now, Stanley Mission.

All in all, this was a great trip, maybe the best yet. I wish Joan could have stayed longer and enjoyed some of the hot weather. Lesson learned, don't leave the northern Saskatchewan winter and settle for  some one else's cold. When the rickshaw drivers in Delhi are shivering, its hard to think its warm even though its well above zero.

There are still some weeks of winter left here, but even at plus 10 C here now, there is still lots of snow and the lake ice is still solid. A few trucks are parked out on the lake in front of my deck. The guys are ice fishing. There must be a walleye hole. Think I'll head out and join them.

*click on photos to enlarge
*See more photos at  http://s617.photobucket.com/home/gjmcknzie

Mumbai to Kochin

From an email to family and friends,
February 9, 2010

Well, the Indian leg of my journey ended a few days ago and I am in Sri Lanka now up in the cooler hills in the city of Kandy (pop 100k at 2200 ft). I've been trying to resolve a problem that has surfaced regarding my re-entry into India from Sr Lanka in late Feb. to catch my return flight home from Delhi. The Indian government implemented a new policy requiring visitors to India on a tourist visa, and who then who leave India, to remain out of the country for a minimum of 2 months before re-entering India My prepaid flight home leaves Feb 24.  Apparently the policy was in place when they sold me my multiple re-entry visa in Dec. and it was only by chance that I learned of the policy in Goa. After questioning some officials there and getting more info on the web I decided to risk it, the advice being that if I could make a case to the Indian embassy here in Sri Lanka, they could let me back in. After 5 hours in the visa line up yesterday, and the elbowing and pushing fight to the officials wicket when my number came up, and  a one minute conversation advising me to come back tomorrow for an interview, I am now sitting here on the deck of my budget guest house in this paradise watching the tropical birds and waiting for my interrogation later this afternoon. There are plenty worse places to be stranded.

 None of my three bank cards would work when I arrived in Sri Lanka and I was down to my last few rupees yesterday (and ready to spend them on beer) when I struck it rich at the only international bank I could find, HBSC, and managed a cash advance on the one Mastercard that would work. My friends Gerry and Paul have left to do the "ancient cities" circuit north of here, so I don't know when or if I will catch up to them. Gerry and I both bought SIM cards for our unlocked GMS cel phones so we can call each other directly for pennies.

My buddy Richard Is now back in Canada after a two week jaunt that took us from Mumbai on the northwest coast, through Goa, Mysore, the hill station of Ooty and back to the  southwest coast at Kochin, a big city with a lot of small city, old world charm. Our last hotel was the Tea Bungalow, an 8 room boutique hotel born out of an abandoned 1912 British colonial mansion. It was four star and exquisite, and way too much money for any self respecting backpacker (even well-heeled ones) to pay. It was worth every penny. And given that we took a lot of local transport, beater buses, 2nd class rail cars, auto rickshaws,  and stayed in reasonably low rent accommodation, I was in the end (and in good conscience), able to confer on the neophyte traveller Richard, a certificate in "upscale backpacking". As I well knew, its back to a more hard core style of travel with Gerry and Paul. I am now occupying a small fan room, no bath, mosquito net, for 1000 rupees ($10).

Southern India was a distinct and welcome change from our more northern tour through Rajastan, Agra, Varanasi and Delhi, which we also much enjoyed. The southern weather was hot and sunny every day, the exception being the cooler days and chilly evenings in Ooty, a former British hill station that sits at 6000 ft. in the hills south of Mysore. We took a guided walk through the pine and eucalyptus forests, tea plantations and hill tribe villages around Ooty. Goa was pretty much as expected. Extended stretches of broad beachfront was continuously backed by beach shacks selling beer and food and behind them small hotels and up scale private residences. In front of the more affluent hotels strips the beaches are packed with  fair skinned burning tourists (lots of Russians) roasting in beach chairs or huddled under umbrellas for miles. The abundant and decaying remnants of Portuguese colonial architecture gives a superficial snapshot of the beach scene suggesting a carbon copy of the the Spanish Dominican Republic we toured last year. In fact we listened to a debate between some Brits, of the relative merits of "the Four Star experience" in Cuba and India. Alas, no mention of the Cuban or Indian people and their contributions to the experience, the talk being restricted to  hotel infrastructure, shopping, beaches, liquor and continental food. Oh well, to each his own. An interesting contrast were the Indian beach crowd who congregated in great throngs near public access points served by local buses. No bikinis here, short pants and t-shirts seemed risque attire for females, and many women just waded in wearing the full sari gown.

For me what most separates India from our other travels is the incredible opportunity to better understand this incredibly rich, diverse and confounding culture through direct communication with the Indian people themselves. Many Indians of all walks of life speak good English and, once one's ear is tuned to the music of their dialects, the conversations are rich and entertaining. Indians are just busting to tell you their stories, answer your questions, explain the "miracle" of their democracy, interpret their culture and legends, and to politely grill you over the details of your professional and personal life and to listen intently and with horror at your stories of the Canadian winter experience. First class train travel offers a particularly rich opportunity to meet Indian professionals and business people. Their often erudite and analytic understanding and discussion of national and international issues and their somewhat aggressive willingness to force a person to rationalize and defend one's own views, made long trips considerably shorter. I wish I was fluent in Thai, Mandarin,Vietnamese........

A few general observations:

- An Australian found a place to drink beer in the Holy city of Pushkar in a matter of minutes (Alcohol is banned    there) and he kindly shared this knowledge with me . Brilliant!

- Indian women ride side saddle on their mens' motorcycles in their saris and with no helmets. Bloody daredevils!

- Canadians have custom ring tones for their phones; Indians have custom horn blasts for their bikes, cars and trucks. Bloody headache!!
- A hand held GPS is a right useful tool when you can't find your hotel in the dark after a few Kingfishers (beer)

- A new safety measure has been implemented by Indian Railways after fog related train collisions last month; No passengers are now allowed in the rear car of the train.

Well ordinarily, I'd have a Kingfisher about now, but I face an inquisition at the office of the Indian High Commissioner in a few hours, so I guess that will be a fresh lime water and maybe some cold melon soup. Delicious.

* Click to enlarge photos

* More photos at http://s617.photobucket.com/home/gjmcknzie

Varanasi

From an email to family and friends,
January 16, 2010

Just a note to let you know we are well and having fun along with the usual misadventures. We are in Varanasi now, the ancient holy city of pilgrims, holy men, scam artists and cremations on the river bank "ghats". Last week we saw the Taj Mahal and despite the crowds it fully lived up to its billing. So did the camel safari in Jaisalmer, the spectacular forts in Jodpur and the country charms of Pushkar (and we had a pretty good New Year's party in Udapuir). A few more stories on these episodes should follow.

It took us a long 18 hours to get to Varanasi on an overnight train from Agra, only 600 kms distant. Our original train (with first class sleepers) had been cancelled without notice and we were very lucky to discover this fact on the advice of our auto rickshaw driver in Agra. Of course we immediately assumed the driver was trying to scam us somehow, and we were embarrassed and apologetic when his information proved true. The drivers in Agra are notorious even by Indian standards for their aggressive and persistent tourist herding instincts and straight faced duplicity aimed at lightening your wallet. We went to the train station to see if we could still get a seat, and every reserved seat was booked and the waiting list too long to chance it. (a week of foggy weather has resulted in many train and plane cancellations; we'll check on the internet in the future) So our driver suggested he knew a travel agent who likely had tickets for the evening train. "He pay little bribe with railway men" our driver said. So for not too much more than face value, we got 2nd class sleeper accommodation from Agra to Varanasi that same day. ($12 cdn each). Then he took us to the market to buy blankets for the trip as they are not supplied in 2nd class and he was right when he said it would be cold. ( he didn't even direct us to a specific shop for the requisite kickback!) With a low near 0 C, it was the coldest night of the winter here so far. This rickshaw driver was working on a big and well earned tip! Of course I would like to think the driver saw us for the veteran travellers we like to think we are, and thus adopted the straight forward, honest approach. Actually I think he just happened to be honest. (To Mr. Sing Chin, who has a well honed dislike of drivers and their intentions, I would say, let's just call it a fluke of nature)

            

                                 kites over cremations at the" burning ghat"

The 12 hour journey took 18 hours. This morning I think I discovered the reason in the local paper. The train ahead of us had a collision killing three people. We were re-routed north through Lucknow.  In the morning I had checked the GPS wondered what the hell we we doing so far north!

Anyway 2nd class sleeper was okay with three tier padded sleeping benches; pop up the middle one during the day and everyone sits around together or take turns stretching out on the top bunk. Not overcrowded and not too too dirty. Security was little lax. First class had locked doors and a security
guy with a nice machine gun.  2nd class sees folks opening the doors and leaning out for the view. Crowds of hawkers and a few beggars make their way through at frequent stops (thieves too we are told) We locked our begs to  the under seat storage. There were many fine sights along the way with  the track running through the valley of the Ganges; so lots of irrigated farming, small villages and people people people.

    
                                           walk the ghats for miles

We fly to Delhi tomorrow (weather permitting) and Joan connects with her flight to Canada a few days later. I'll meet my buddy Richard in Mumbai next week and head south to Goa and who knows where. In early February I'll connect with my travel guru,  the previously noted Mr. Gerry Sing Chin, and his buddy Paul, in Sri Lanka. I'm  looking forward to some real heat.

Gerry told us India would wear us down. It does, but I think its been worth it so far.








bull in a silk shop; don't ask me why?

                                                            rowing the ghats at sunset

                              

coldest night

                                   ceremony at the main ghat every night for free;
                                     fantastic music and spectacle

* Click on photos to enlarge
* More photos at  http://s617.photobucket.com/home/gjmcknzie

                                                                                                                                  

New Years In Udaipur

From an email to family and friends,
January 28, 2009

The ghats at Udaipur, City Palace in the background

We arrived in Udaipur from Jaipur on an overnight government run bus on December 29th.  All the reserved railway seating was sold out so we figured we would try a sleeper bus, our first ride on this type of transport. The big greyhound style bus had the typical seating configuration, 2x2 with a centre aisle. The difference was the padded  and curtained sleeping benches that replaced the carry-on luggage compartments above the seats. The sleeping accommodation was quite comfortable, that is, when the bus was stationary.  It turned out to be a night of hard braking and acceleration between which were moments of non-transcendental levitation. I  figured the roads were simply terrible, but in the morning discovered the truth. Our regular launches off the sleeper surface had two causes. First was the heavy duty speed bumps that are installed to slow the break-neck drivers as they hurtle through the small villages that line the highway every few kilometers. Combined with our unfortunate seat location directly over the rear axle, the results were predictable. Well, at least we can attempt to address the second factor when purchasing our seats in the future. The 10 hour trip departed and arrived almost on time. ($12 cdn per)

We had one night of accommodation booked when we arrived. It was the extra high season between Christmas and New Year's and eveything seemed to be booked up. We had to leave our fine courtyard hotel in Jaipur after two nights because it was booked full with New Year's approaching. We had phoned ahead to about every Udaipur guesthouse and hotel listed in our guide book, but every one was full until at least Jan. 3. Our very helpful concierge in Jaipur suggested we take the overnight bus to allow us an early morning start in the hope of searching out a canceled reservation that might yield a room there. Walking around and more phone calls in Udapuir and nothing. Mild panic. Finally we began calling some places in the country outside the city.

Then, good fortune!  A rural guesthouse operator (who had already offered up his own room to some needy travelers) knew of a person in Udaipur whom he thought might rent a room in her home there.  And he had the name of another small out of the way hotel near the lake that had just opened.

So we ended up putting together four nights, beginning with a great stay at  the  home of the extraordinary Jarka, a dancer by training, and now director and producer of a small company that has for some years been mounting productions of Shakespeare throughout Rajastan and other centers in India. We were her first guests in a limited, and might I say exclusive, opportunity for a home stay in an authentic Indian havelli (old noble house)  The enegetic Jarka, continues a loving restoration of this fascinating old courtyard building that she led us to, tucked into a narrow lane of the old city. The exterior of the havelli presents a nondescript whitewashed two storey facade; entrance is achieved squeezing though a small opening in a massive black wooden gate, The open bright rectangular interior courtyard provides the main living space and rooms on the main and second level oppose each other across the courtyard on the long side. The other walls have a pattern of indented shelves for plants, lights or furnishings. The whole thing is further set off by a rich lighting scheme, polished Jaisalmer red stone floors, heavy duty granite shelves and kitchen surfaces, tasteful simple furnishings and traditional whitewash finish. 

A walk up the stairs to the flat roof takes you to another vital space. As you gaze around at a sea of uneven roof top cubes  (and into the courtyards of your close neighbors) you realize that the rooftop in India is more than a place for restaurants. For us it was an opportunity to casually observe the home life in an Indian urban neighbourhood; the roof space seems to be an integral part of daily life; Brilliant colours wave from the clothes lines, blankets are sewn by mothers and grandmothers, and kite are flown by, I think, just about everyone. It is kite season and the roofs and sky are crowded with kiters and kites everywhere you go.

 Joan and I were delighted to be the first to sign Jarkas' guestbook. To top it off, we had drinks in the courtyard on New Years Eve with a bunch of her charming friends. 

And through her extensive professional and personal contacts in the region she helped book superb accommodations for the next leg of our trip west to Jodpur and Jaisalmer.

      

The guide book says that Udapuir is considered India's most romantic city. Impressive 15th to19th century palaces, temples and havellis overlook the placid lake with its palace islands (see the Bond flick Octopussy). Ancient narrow winding hillside lanes are packed with colorful shops and decaying guesthouses and the usual cows, goats and donkeys, autorickshaws, people and more people. Unfortunately, as Jarka pointed out as she toured us around the old town, many of the old havellis are being torn down, their antique facades and window frames sold off, and replaced by modern concrete bunkers with a few antique disguises. Udaipur is a place we could spend some extended time.

We hired a taxi to travel the next seven hour leg west to Jodpur (pop 600,000) allowing us to visit Kumbalgarh fort and Ranakpur temple, two A-list sites, not easily seen with public transport. We travelled the winding back roads  through hilly agricultural country and villages and got some sense of the age old routines of farm families. It must be a very hard life at best and with monsoon rains much reduced in recent years, we understand the hardships are even more intense for the rural folk of India who still constitute a majority of India's population. I read in The India Times that an important indicator of population health here is the relative levels of underweight people in the population. Obesity is not a big problem in rural India from what our eyes tell us and from what the statistics confirm. 

People come to Rajastan to see the impressive old 14th to 19th century forts, palaces and temples that rise from the deserts and hilltops of this arid plain and inspire memories of the glorious and notorious pasts of the Rajput warriors, the immeasurably wealthy Mahharajas and Moghul Emporers and the British Raj. They also see the hard life of rural Indians and their religious devotion and fantastic shrines and temples from many ancient traditions. Yes, the place is often dirty and frustrating, but for my money, one of the best places to travel to see a full scope of human experience in a hard but thrilling geography. If you want to spend a bit more money (renting a car and driver is cheap), you can even avoid most of the dirty and disturbing stuff and just see the historic sites and modern mediocrity. But save a few dollars and try the local bus; you wont regret it. (when you finally get home, that is)

Mehrangarh Fort rises above the Blue City, Jodpur. Inside the fort is an exquisite palace

* Click on photos to enlarge
* More photos at  http://s617.photobucket.com/home/gjmcknzie

A week in India

Email to family and friends
December 29, 2009

Well after a week here, I think our body clocks have finally adjusted to this place, if our brains haven't quite. Delhi was simply a shock to both Joan and
me.  All the reading, travel docs and good advice from experienced friends can't prepare you for your first stroll through Old Delhi.  There is unrelenting pressure on your old brain to process the constant racket, overpowering smells, and the ancient crumbling lanes, packed tight with human, animal, and machine, all competing for every inch of space.  The whole city seems in a state of either terminal decay or half hearted rebuilding, and you can't really tell one from the other.                                          

                                          Lamp shade detail

We traveled six hours southwest by bus to Jaipur two days ago and have found some respite from the craziness of the streets and the second rate hotels in a beautiful little heritage hotel ($65.00 Cd) in a quiet (relatively) and leafy (relatively) suburb of Jaipur. (pop 2.5 million). Our optimism restored, we will depart for Udapuir on a 10 hour overnight sleeper bus tomorrow night and enjoy this oasis for another day.
                 

Today we hired a taxi and took a five hour tour of the 16th, 17th century Mogul forts at Amer about 10 kms out of the city. (Taxi and driver $12 Cd, admissions $6 with guide). These massive Maharajah palaces, perched on mountain ridges above the city, rival any of the man made spectacles we have seen anywhere in our travels. It is also the first place we have really seen foreign tourists in any number and the forts were crowded with them. Many tourists fly in just to see the historical sites. Not many foreigners to be seen on the streets around town though.Yes, the food is fabulous! The people are friendly and helpful, except for the touts, and I am still too pissed off to tell you the worst of those stories. Later. Anyway, none have got the better of us yet and they are simply an annoyance.

A major challenge now is to understand how to locate a reliable supply of beer. Alcohol is under tight government control. It is not available 7-11 equivalents or small shops as elsewhere in SE Asia. I saw one government liquor store on Christmas Day. Closed for the holiday! This hotel forbids any alcohol on the premises. Oh well, I am generally up to a challenge like this.

The Amber Fort

                                                                                                                                                                      

* Click on photos to enlarge
* More photos at  http://s617.photobucket.com/home/gjmcknzie

Freeze Up on the Churchill

Freeze Up here in northern Saskatchewan is a distinct season between Autumn and Winter. This year's seasonal changes have been unusually unusual. Last winter was much more frigid than the average brutal normal and winter was followed by a record late Breakup (also a separate season in the Cree calendar) with the ice lasting in Bonehead Bay into very late May. Then followed a cool and rainy Summer  that wasn't much of a summer at all. Finally in September we had some warm weather with the highest temperatures of the year (30+ C), unbelievably, in the last week of that month. And the weather has remained mild through October and November. I think the first frost came in October; this is almost unheard of. Most of the aspen leaves were green until mid October long after they should  have turned their red golden colours and blown off. Instead many froze green on the trees and many refused to fall. Even after a few good blows, I still see some of them frozen on the trees now, on November 19.

When I first came to Stanley Mission in  1978 I remember the river (Mountain Lake) freezing suddenly in plunging temperatures and crystal clear and calm weather in early November. Within days a skating rink of epic proportion (10  square km?) was scattered with skaters of every age. As I recall, the following few years we experienced similar freeze-ups, and I assumed that a week or so of good skating was the seasonal norm. Sadly not. Over the next decades, the norm proved to be a river freezing up slowly in blowing and snowing conditions leaving a rough snow covered and un-skateable surface. Small rough patches would be scraped clear of snow for the kids, but that was it. I would have to wait a long time to strap on the blades and cruise that unfettered expanse of glass again. The thrill of cruising over the this thin black skin of transparent frozen water as it groans and whistles is utterly unique. Finally, after maybe 25 years, we are experiencing a perfect freeze-up for the skaters of Stanley Mission! A week ago Joan and I tip-toed along the shores on the virgin ice, patches of open water not too far off-shore warning the obvious. Two nights ago I returned to Stanley in the dark, after a few days away, to hear the sounds of skate blades and hockey sticks on natural ice below our deck. Where the hell are my skates!!?

Yesterday morning (-8C) I could see the evidence of ice skate traffic below our deck and that Bonehead Bay was frozen smooth and black, clear across. I walked a few kilometers  of the frozen shoreline in the dead calm of the soft sunrise light and took a few photos and calculated the ice strength. At 1 pm I strapped on the blades and took my first strides in five years. Good thing I was holding my hockey stick or I would have gone down. (the stick would also be good for helping to haul yourself out of the drink too, should it come to that... ) My old bones groaned but not as much as the newly forming and expanding ice sheet. It's difficult to describes these sounds; if they were played in isolation one might think of whale and dolphin conversations or alternately the soundtrack from a Star Wars battle scene, and sounds loud enough to echo off the rocky shoreline too.

 I woke this morning to another clear calm day (-6C) and went for another skate in the sunshine, this time intent on recording the the ice symphony with my little Lumix camera. Mixed results. If the weather holds I'll borrow Brendans Q-2, a high end portable microphone and try again tomorrow.

Another sign of the season is the increased activity at our bird feeder and around the yard. Today we 've seen juncos, chickadees, redpolls, pine and evening grosbeaks, nut hatches, grey jays, hairy and downy woodpeckers and a pileated woodpecker.

Tarves tells me he noted a temperature of -40C two years ago today. Sure hope this lovely weather lasts a while longer and that the freeze up deepens before the snow falls. A blanket of insulating snow now will make for weak  ice, slush, and treacherous travel conditions. People here still use the lakes and rivers for snowmobile travel to their winter traplines and to their favourite fishing holes, so they will be hoping for the same.

One month till we depart for India, Joan for a month and me for 9 weeks.

Dominican Republic by Auto

Following is a brief description and some photos of our car tour around the Dominican Republic in February (2009). I've added it as a new post, still working at figuring out this blog technology. Pasted my earlier emails and managed to add and place the photos. Haven't figured out how to label the photos yet, so go ahead and guess! (The photo of me with cigar and Presidentes is captioned The Meaning of Life)

Hope things work out for our planned travel to India and eastern Indonesia in Dec., Jan., and Feb. If so, I'll try to post some commentary and photos to this blog using my Mac Air while we are on the road.


Las Galenas, Dominican Republic,
February, 2009


After three nights, Dick and Joan and I left Sosua's fast pace and flesh pots for Las Terranas, in our rental car, five hours east, dodging prize winning pot holes and enjoying spectacular coastal scenery to the the foot of the Samana peninsula. Traffic dwindles and the roads are alternately excellent and from hell. Made Las Galeras yesterday at the end of the peninsula, fairly limited tourist traffic and we are in good lodgings a few meters from the beach which is clean, with inviting warm waters. A working beach, tourism is a big part, but not the whole deal, and watching the local stuff is thus a big part of the fun. Swimming, snorkeling and burning. Recommend he El Presidente beer. Rum is also more than good and the only cheap part of the trip at $8 for a liter of the good stuff.
We will spend a few nights here and then across the island to he capital Santo Domingo ( pop 3 M) about 6 hours. Carnival peaks on the weekend. Will we be up to it? YES!
We are enjoying the seafood, Have not had the lobster yet, but we could be mistaken for lobsters .
Hope you can save save some of that bracing cold weather for our return.We really are missing it.

Cabarete, DR, February, 2009

Hi Folks,

All packed and relaxing in our fancy beach hotel in Cabarete, a beach resort town about 35 minutes from the Puerto Plata airport. We'll drop off our rental car this afternoon and be on the plane at five pm. We put 900 kms on our mid sized Mitsubishi ($700 total through Budget with full insurance plus gas) and, I think, saw pretty much what the island has to offer. There certainly is a rich and diverse geography here; we drove the north coast to Las Galenas at the end of the Samana peninsula. Its a sleepy fishing village, lightly developed with wonderful deserted beaches. We hiked to massive limestone and volcanic cliffswith caves, photographed the pounding surf and spooky blowholes, ate great seafood and met many very friendly Dominicans, who seem happy with our butchered attempts at their Spanish.
With the exception of the all inclusive resorts, there is very little English spoken. I suspect there are more European than North American tourists and almost all seem to be on some kind of all inclusive deal. We didn't run into anyone who was just traveling around like us. There is no back packing culture and thus no real cut rate options for travelers. Bring lots of money. Hotels and restaurant food costs about the same as home. We did talk to expats who say long term rental or condo purchase brings the costs right down. Beach condos can be purchased starting at about $80 k

 We drove to the capital, Santo Domingo, population 3 million, most of the way on a brand new toll freeway at 120 km/hour and no potholes. Apparently the new road has shortened the trip from 7 to 3 hours. Dry cattle country and wild mountains and sparsely populated.
We stayed four nights in the old zona colonial district, a UN heritage site with many of the buildings dating to the early\mid 16th century. Our 11 room hotel was a nunnery for its first 350 years. Mucho character! (search el beaterio hotel for photos) Santa Domingo was the highlight for me. We just walked the neighbourhoods and explored the old churches, forts, squares, bars and bistros. And with Carnival in full swing there was lots of street action. A photographers delight.

We headed back to the north coast on highway #1, a fairly insane drive on a "four lane", often, magically a six or eight lane highway (always the same width though). Spent one night a mountain resort in Jarabacoa in a plush hotel on white water river, high enough up that one needed a jacket in the evening. Lots of bird life. Hiked to the Jurassic Park waterfall. Central DR is incredibly diverse and beautiful.
Spent our last two nights in Calabrete (pop 15 k) a top destination for wind and kite surfers, and it seems, jet setters. The sky and water fills with kites and sails along the windswept 5 km beach. A competition got underway yesterday. Richard (the elder statesman of Saskatchewan whitewater paddling) has been salivating at the sight of the big surf throughout the trip. We were both salivating at the other sights on the beach.
Again the difference between the price of ordinary accommodations and a four star beach resort was small enough to make the 4 star a no brainer and the resorts like this are full service with all the perks.
A highlight here was the night in Jose O'Shea's Irish pub where we dined on the catch of the day on the beach out front. Couldn't help but notice the 20 flat screens in the bar all broadcasting Champions League soccer. Wonder if they could get the Habs-Vancouver tilt? Richard and I, being on opposite sides of this rivalry, were determined to at least listen to it on my Mac via internet back at the hotel. What Ho! A table full of Quebecois with the game tuned in and just beginning. We had a great time with them and Richard was a good sport with all the ribbing he got from the Montrealers. (3-0 Habs)

All in all, an expensive but worthwhile adventure. An expected downside is the depressing poverty of the large underclass that exists on very little. I am told that education investment and levels are low and the status quo rules.




Joan and Richard were excellent travel mates and even though I may come in bit lower on their scales, we got along fine and had much fun.
Joan just now says it feels like a dream.

All the best,

Glenn

More photos at

http://s617.photobucket.com/albums/tt253/gjmcknzie/