As I began to put together the plan for my around-the-world adventure, one problem continually arose as I planned my itinerary. I only speak one language. Communication could be necessary in nearly a dozen different languages if I wanted to eat, find a place sleep, and get from one place to the next reliably.
It's not that I haven't given learning another language a good shot over the years. But, each attempt has unfortunately been met with abject failure. Three years of German in high school served as an exercise in futility that netted the ability to say “hi”, “bye” and, inexplicably, “table” in that language. A year's worth of French in college had me semi-conversational for about half a summer.
But, that summer faded long ago and my French prowess with it.
In an effort to address the issue, I downloaded a number of language guides to my iPod. I could regularly be seen in my car or walking around talking to the air in various tongues. It was all I would listen to for the months leading up to my departure. I even began to feel confident with my Spanish skills as that time neared.
As soon as I set foot in Peru, however, all that effort was moot. I was faced with the sad reality that no one sounded remotely like the guy from my language lessons. Almost instantly, I was reduced yet again to my monolingual self which didn't bode well for the rest of my trip.
My concerns were thankfully largely unwarranted. Despite not being an official language of most of the countries I visited, English was prominently spoken just about everywhere I went. I understood that English is one of the most predominant languages in the world, but it was still eye-opening to see just how prominently it plays a role globally.
Obviously, tourist dollars serve as the core impetus for its omnipresence. So it was not too surprising to see it employed in a retail or tourism setting. It was among fellow travelers that I found the prominence of English to be most enlightening. Travelers from places that would normally have a language barrier between them, used English as a lingual bridge of common understanding, even (perhaps especially) when English was not native to either party. I witnessed Spaniards speak with Brazilians in Australia, Chinese with Vietnamese in Thailand, Indians with Italians in Cambodia, and Dutch with Israelis in New Zealand. All using English as a common denominator.
But, the proliferation of English as the world's common language has a downside as well. Especially for those of us for which it is their sole spoken language. It provides a disincentive to attempt learning how to speak on locals' terms and failure to participate in what is a fundamental aspect of a specific place or culture. While you won't miss out on any key attractions, it is all too easy to get by on only a cursory knowledge of what's going on around you instead of delving deeper into the local culture.
It is even restricting when it is spoken prevalently by locals. Even with the simplest of transactions, I tended to find myself too often at a point in a conversation where a crucial word was mistranslated, misunderstood or unintentionally omitted (sometimes there is no similar word in English). That small piece could change my entire understanding of that conversation, exclude a critical piece of information or just plain leave me confused. It also forced me to trust, almost implicitly, what other people were telling me because of my own inability to understand or read what was plainly spoken or written around me.
Of course, when you're visiting over a dozen countries in a year's time, it's a bit much to expect anyone to be fluent at every stop. But, I have found that making an effort to learn even just one additional language can make a substantial difference in surprising ways. Those that speak at least one other language seem to assimilate better to being in a foreign place, whether they speak the language or not. They seem to be ever-so-slightly more comfortable with, and understanding of, a place than a monolinguist like me. They also seem to be more apt to grasp even a rudimentary understanding of other languages when necessary. Maybe it's just that a multilingual person has a greater comfort level because their chances of understanding what is going on around them are, at the very least, doubled.
Admittedly, the prevalence of English in my travels served mostly as a crutch that was a bit difficult to give up. But, the more I see people who speak in multiple tongues traveling with a greater sense of ease and comfort, the more I'm inclined to make a more concerted effort to learn at least one new language and see what new doors it might open up around the world. So, if you see me driving around Chicago when I get back and talking in tongues to the air, don't be alarmed. I'm giving it another shot.
Showing posts with label USA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label USA. Show all posts
Monday, August 18, 2008
Monday, July 07, 2008
Barker's Beauties
Bob Barker would not be happy. The third world seems to have blatantly disregarded his sage show-ending plea to “help control the pet population by having your pets spade or neutered”. Bob would likely be horrified to see the enormous number of stray dogs wandering the streets of many of the cities and towns of the so-called third world I've visited. Then again, these canines hardly qualify as pets as they are obviously sans owners and actual homes. Not to mention that I’d bet good money that none has seen the inside of a veterinary clinic for shots or a bath, let alone more invasive procedures.
Not only is Bob's request being ignored, but it would seem that his worst nightmare is in the offing. The scruffy canines wandering the streets don't seem to restrict their copulation urges to their own species. I’ve seen more than a few peculiar looking dogs with suspiciously swine-like features that baffle the mind as to just how such a union might transpire, not that I care to ever linger upon that thought. Others, who seem to restrict their intimate experiences to their own species, are such an amalgam of uninhibited cross-breeding that it would take the folks at the Westminster Kennel Club decades to figure out the blood lines of just one of them.
Of course, all that unrestrained reproduction means that there are a significant number of mangy mutts freely roaming the streets, scavenging for every scrap of food they can get. I can barely walk fifty feet down a street in many of the third world cities I've visited without encountering a small pack of them poking around in every nook and cranny for the slightest morsel of food. Such occurrences typically send me scrambling into the nearest storefront or giving them at least a ten foot wide arc when passing by.
Still, that's not entirely fair to the dogs as they are simply attempting to make the best of a less than ideal situation. Their scruff appearance alone does not mean that they are disease-carrying hosts waiting to infest the nearest passerby. Although given the squalid conditions they are forced to live in, more than a few have likely succumbed to such a fate. My fears are likely steeped in equal parts overreaction and prudence.
Luckily, most don't really seem to be in the mood for food of the two-legged variety. If anything, they seem to give me as wide a berth when passing as I do them. But, despite getting poked and prodded for just about everything before I departed, I remain cautious. I have no desire to withstand a barrage of shots to the stomach – or elsewhere - should I encounter a dog that decides that my fleshy ankles might just be a good snack.
Unfortunately, the fate of such dogs seems to be tied to their human brethren. When most of the local human population struggles to feed – let alone house - themselves or their families on a daily basis, concern for care of the canine population likely doesn't rank very high on the societal priority list. Of course, the irony is that this also leaves the dogs to procreate unabated which only worsens the situation.
Perhaps if the financial tides of the third world turn for the better and a few generations find themselves able to provide for their families with some assured regularity, then the issue may begin to be able to be addressed. Until then, I expect that mangy mutts will continue to wander the streets fighting for every remnant they can find, making visitors such as myself a bit wary in the process, and thumbing their cold noses at Bob Barker in the process.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Kryptonite Canyon
Superman has Kryptonite. It seems I have the Grand Canyon.
Any time Superman comes within a few feet of the celestial green crystal it manages to wreak havoc on his otherwise superhuman body. Likewise, any time I come within a few hundred miles of the giant chasm’s earthly red rock, a similar havoc is wreaked on my far from superhuman body.
After returning stateside a few weeks ago, I decided to tempt fate by returning to the canyon lands of the Southwest in an attempt to finish the trip I started there twelve months prior before it was abruptly interrupted. After six months traversing the globe, setting foot on, in or near a multitude of earthly wonders, I thought there no better way to close out my adventures than by finishing my pilgrimage to perhaps the pinnacle of them all, the Grand Canyon.
Unfortunately, my latest attempt only served to further cement the big ditch as my personal nemesis. I made it as far as the cosmopolitan mecca of Omaha - for a Mother’s Day visit to see my Grandmother on the way west (you’d think I’d get some karma points for that) - when an almost forgotten, but instantly recognizable pain began to spread across my lower back. I held out hope that it would be a quickly passing storm, but once my nearly ninety-year-old Grandmother began to outpace me walking through the local JC Penney’s I knew ten days hiking through the remote deserts of Arizona & Utah was ill advised.
It’s the fourth such attempt to visit the Grand Canyon that’s been thwarted by equally bizarre circumstances in the last decade. While a fortnight later I’m once more reasonably agile, I’m not quite up for tempting fate a fifth time and exposing myself yet again to the ominously debilitating and discouraging powers of the Grand Canyon.
So my trip ends on a bit of a whimper, literally and figuratively, yet it’s near impossible to complain in light of the string of remarkable destinations that have not managed to elude me over the last year. Plus, I consider myself fortunate to be able to designate two weeks traveling through some of Italy’s greatest cities with my parents as my de facto grand finale.
But, finale may be the wrong choice of words. I prefer to call it just a pause. While I was lucky enough to return from my globe hopping sans any exotic diseases, I did come back with one incurable condition: chronic wanderlust.
Like an addict, I’m ready for my next fix immediately and am willing to go to significant lengths, and distances, to find it. Despite setting foot in a considerable number of countries on this trip, I recently determined that it only constitutes a mere 6% of the nations of the world. Such information only feeds my addiction, but how or when I’ll be able to seek out my next fix remains a looming, nagging question as I currently find myself at a unique crossroads: what to do next?
For the last year, my answer to that question would be to simply pick the next destination that caught my fancy and book a ticket to get me there as soon as possible. But, with an exhausted budget and a credit card balance creating its own layer of stratosphere, it seems that it’s not so simple this time (or is it?). Prudence suggests that it might be time to look at returning to the real world.
However, I think I left my pragmatism somewhere in New Zealand when prudence was also telling me it’s not so smart to leap from a perfectly good cliff into a deathly deep canyon attached to nothing more than an over sized rubber band.
After a year like I’ve been lucky enough to experience, my definition of the ‘real world’ has changed significantly, and continues to evolve, which adds layers of complexity to such a seemingly logical decision. Not to mention that there are a myriad of personal endeavors, business and otherwise, swimming around in my head that I’m wont to at least explore if not pursue earnestly before settling back into the real world.
Where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing in the next few days, weeks and months is anyone’s gues, least of all mine most of the time. But, I‘ve become pleasantly accustomed to that lifestyle over the last twelve months. One thing that is certain about my future is that I’m not quite done with this blog just yet - ever, if I‘m lucky. I still have excursions in Spain and Italy to chronicle as well as a few other topics that I couldn’t quite get around to while I was traveling. Plus, who knows what other adventures may lay in store to be recounted here at a future date.
Should I find a moment of clarity and come to a decision about my future, - whether employment, travel, or a mixture of both - I’ll likely record that here too. So keep watching for at least a little while longer. Just don’t expect to see a post about me curling my toes over the rim of the Grand Canyon any time soon.
Any time Superman comes within a few feet of the celestial green crystal it manages to wreak havoc on his otherwise superhuman body. Likewise, any time I come within a few hundred miles of the giant chasm’s earthly red rock, a similar havoc is wreaked on my far from superhuman body.
After returning stateside a few weeks ago, I decided to tempt fate by returning to the canyon lands of the Southwest in an attempt to finish the trip I started there twelve months prior before it was abruptly interrupted. After six months traversing the globe, setting foot on, in or near a multitude of earthly wonders, I thought there no better way to close out my adventures than by finishing my pilgrimage to perhaps the pinnacle of them all, the Grand Canyon.
Unfortunately, my latest attempt only served to further cement the big ditch as my personal nemesis. I made it as far as the cosmopolitan mecca of Omaha - for a Mother’s Day visit to see my Grandmother on the way west (you’d think I’d get some karma points for that) - when an almost forgotten, but instantly recognizable pain began to spread across my lower back. I held out hope that it would be a quickly passing storm, but once my nearly ninety-year-old Grandmother began to outpace me walking through the local JC Penney’s I knew ten days hiking through the remote deserts of Arizona & Utah was ill advised.
It’s the fourth such attempt to visit the Grand Canyon that’s been thwarted by equally bizarre circumstances in the last decade. While a fortnight later I’m once more reasonably agile, I’m not quite up for tempting fate a fifth time and exposing myself yet again to the ominously debilitating and discouraging powers of the Grand Canyon.
So my trip ends on a bit of a whimper, literally and figuratively, yet it’s near impossible to complain in light of the string of remarkable destinations that have not managed to elude me over the last year. Plus, I consider myself fortunate to be able to designate two weeks traveling through some of Italy’s greatest cities with my parents as my de facto grand finale.
But, finale may be the wrong choice of words. I prefer to call it just a pause. While I was lucky enough to return from my globe hopping sans any exotic diseases, I did come back with one incurable condition: chronic wanderlust.
Like an addict, I’m ready for my next fix immediately and am willing to go to significant lengths, and distances, to find it. Despite setting foot in a considerable number of countries on this trip, I recently determined that it only constitutes a mere 6% of the nations of the world. Such information only feeds my addiction, but how or when I’ll be able to seek out my next fix remains a looming, nagging question as I currently find myself at a unique crossroads: what to do next?
For the last year, my answer to that question would be to simply pick the next destination that caught my fancy and book a ticket to get me there as soon as possible. But, with an exhausted budget and a credit card balance creating its own layer of stratosphere, it seems that it’s not so simple this time (or is it?). Prudence suggests that it might be time to look at returning to the real world.
However, I think I left my pragmatism somewhere in New Zealand when prudence was also telling me it’s not so smart to leap from a perfectly good cliff into a deathly deep canyon attached to nothing more than an over sized rubber band.
After a year like I’ve been lucky enough to experience, my definition of the ‘real world’ has changed significantly, and continues to evolve, which adds layers of complexity to such a seemingly logical decision. Not to mention that there are a myriad of personal endeavors, business and otherwise, swimming around in my head that I’m wont to at least explore if not pursue earnestly before settling back into the real world.
Where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing in the next few days, weeks and months is anyone’s gues, least of all mine most of the time. But, I‘ve become pleasantly accustomed to that lifestyle over the last twelve months. One thing that is certain about my future is that I’m not quite done with this blog just yet - ever, if I‘m lucky. I still have excursions in Spain and Italy to chronicle as well as a few other topics that I couldn’t quite get around to while I was traveling. Plus, who knows what other adventures may lay in store to be recounted here at a future date.
Should I find a moment of clarity and come to a decision about my future, - whether employment, travel, or a mixture of both - I’ll likely record that here too. So keep watching for at least a little while longer. Just don’t expect to see a post about me curling my toes over the rim of the Grand Canyon any time soon.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
If At First You Don't Succeed...
After a four month delay, my travel plans are back in gear. My back has healed thanks to 2 months of rehab and a re-dedication to going to the gym, eating better, sitting up straight and generally trying not to do all the things that caused it in the first place.
I've booked a flight to Peru for the end of October that will give me two weeks to explore Lima, Machu Picchu and Lake Titicaca. From there, I'll head to Sydney to spend the rest of '06 traveling around Australia, New Zealand and Fiji.
I haven't booked anything beyond that as I plan to figure things out as I go the rest of the way. If something grabs my attention, then I'll alter plans accordingly. But, there are many places on my 'must see' list that I'm hoping to go, so the following is a loose outline of my likely itinerary:
- November: Peru/Australia
- December: Australia/New Zealand/Fiji
- January: SE Asia
- February: SE Asia
- March: India
- April: Greece/Egypt
If my funds hold out longer than expected, or I find a means of incurring income, then I'll likely stay out longer. I would love to go back to Africa and explore more of the continent. China is also on my list of places I'd like to see and exploring more of Europe would be great (hopefully the value of the US dollar improves by then).
So, stay tuned. I'm sure I'll provide a few updates between now and my departure. Then, I'll update as frequently as possible from beyond the confines of the U.S.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The Doctor Will See You Now
I knew I'd likely need to see a doctor at some point on my trip. But, I always imagined it'd be overseas in some exotic city making sure I didn't have some disease I couldn't pronounce. I never thought it'd be in my own country before I ever set foot on foreign soil.
In the week preceding the start of my trip, I acquired a back ache that hung around through the first part of my trip out to the Southwest US. I aimed to tough it out as it would typically vanish once I moved around awhile during the day. But, at a stop just outside Bryce Canyon, I bent down and my back collapsed completely. In considerable pain, I decided my back just might not get better on its own.
A trip to the nearest ER in remote Southwestern Utah couldn't determine the source of the injury despite some x-rays. An MRI in Salt Lake City, an excrutiating four-hour drive away, was recommended. But, once I got to Salt Lake City, the pain was so intense that I opted to cut the trip short and headed back to Chicago to see just what I'd done to myself. Back in Michigan, an MRI confirmed that I had herniated a disc in my lower back which is also pressing on the sciatic nerve that runs down my left leg. It's a fantastic combination that only hurts when I sit, stand or walk. But, after 10 days of laying on my parents couch watching World Cup soccer matches all day, the pain is subsiding and my range of movement is increasing. In another month or two, I expect to be back in traveling shape.
I've postponed my trip to Costa Rica/Peru which I hope to do next summer after I get back. I'm planning to resume travels in late August by heading to Fiji as planned. I'll continue to post any new updates and info here whenever its makes sense.
In the mean time....remember to bend at the knees.
In the week preceding the start of my trip, I acquired a back ache that hung around through the first part of my trip out to the Southwest US. I aimed to tough it out as it would typically vanish once I moved around awhile during the day. But, at a stop just outside Bryce Canyon, I bent down and my back collapsed completely. In considerable pain, I decided my back just might not get better on its own.
A trip to the nearest ER in remote Southwestern Utah couldn't determine the source of the injury despite some x-rays. An MRI in Salt Lake City, an excrutiating four-hour drive away, was recommended. But, once I got to Salt Lake City, the pain was so intense that I opted to cut the trip short and headed back to Chicago to see just what I'd done to myself. Back in Michigan, an MRI confirmed that I had herniated a disc in my lower back which is also pressing on the sciatic nerve that runs down my left leg. It's a fantastic combination that only hurts when I sit, stand or walk. But, after 10 days of laying on my parents couch watching World Cup soccer matches all day, the pain is subsiding and my range of movement is increasing. In another month or two, I expect to be back in traveling shape.
I've postponed my trip to Costa Rica/Peru which I hope to do next summer after I get back. I'm planning to resume travels in late August by heading to Fiji as planned. I'll continue to post any new updates and info here whenever its makes sense.
In the mean time....remember to bend at the knees.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
The Narrows
I woke up for my second day at Zion National Park with an inexplicable amount of energy and surprising lack of soreness considering my impromptu three-hour, 1,500ft hike the day prior. While potentially pushing my luck, I decided to explore more of the gems the park had to offer. I set out to find Hidden Canyon and Echo Canyon, both on the opposite side of the park from where I explored the day before, saving a trip to iconic Narrows for the end of the day.
The hike to Hidden Canyon was strikingly similar to the my trip to Angel's Landing the day prior. A series of long, steep switchbacks up a cliff wall leading to a plateau where the trail continued on to Hidden Canyon. But, the last portion of the trail was unique in its own right. The trail became a well worn path along the sandstone jutting out into the valley below with about 3ft within which to maneuver and 300ft drops to one side. Successfully traversed, I made it to the entrance to Hidden Canyon after about a 45 minute climb.
Hidden Canyon is essentially a chasm between two portions of mountain that goes back into the mountains before climbing out into the middle of the range. The canyon is 10-20ft wide at most - at least for the portion I hiked. The path is a dry riverbed, with sheer 100ft walls to either side, that I followed for about a mile until I came to an arch carved out of the rock by wind and water that I used as shelter from the drizzling rain while I ate lunch. Making it back to the entrance of the Canyon, I was treated to fantastic view of Angel's Landing where I'd climbed the day before.
Next, I retraced my steps about halfway down the mountain to find a trail that split off in the other direction toward Echo Canyon. About a half hour later, I came to the a place where the trail widened to about 100ft and a rock outcropping curled over the top of the trail. This was Echo Canyon with its red-rock tunnel of a canyon. It wasn't as big as the other canyons I'd found, but impressive in it's own right for the way the rock 'roof' balanced atop the trail and the picturesque variety of colors of red and white rock all around. After a while, I headed back down to the shuttle stop to catch a ride to the end of the paved are of Zion National Park where The Narrows began.
The full Narrows trail is about 16 miles long and you start from the opposite end of where I was, camping overnight along the way. Still getting my hiking feet in shape, I opted for a day trip. I began at the end, were the Virgin River enters the main portion of Zion National Park. The Narrows gets its namesake as the canyon surrounding the river narrows to 4-10ft in many places and you have to wade through the river to get through. The same is true even in the wider sections of The Narrows where patches of land are separated by long stretches of water that was snow not so long ago. I found myself immediately initiated into this with my first step on the trail right into the river.
My first ten steps into the water were the last ten my feet remember as the freezing water quickly cut off all feeling. I later found out that the water temperature was a toasty 57F...yikes! I alternated between trekking over land and through chilly river waters as I made my way around the first bend. Here, I
came upon the first section of the trail where there was no land to be found and water was the only way forward. Halfway to the next piece of land, the riverbed dropped 5ft and just my head was above the hypothermia-inducing waters. I continued on with the land and water trek taking in the array of astounding natural beauty of the canyon around me.
Along the way I periodically came across other hikers (most heading south to complete their multi-day hikes) and we acknowledged each other with a simple head nod almost so as not to disturb the peace, quiet and beauty surrounding us. The chill in my body faded away as each bend of the canyon revealed yet another awe-inspiring scene. It was the exclamation point to my time spent at Zion and the first leg of my trip. It also reminded me that while I'm eager to see new lands throughout this trip, there are still plenty of treasures right in my own backyard that await my return.
The hike to Hidden Canyon was strikingly similar to the my trip to Angel's Landing the day prior. A series of long, steep switchbacks up a cliff wall leading to a plateau where the trail continued on to Hidden Canyon. But, the last portion of the trail was unique in its own right. The trail became a well worn path along the sandstone jutting out into the valley below with about 3ft within which to maneuver and 300ft drops to one side. Successfully traversed, I made it to the entrance to Hidden Canyon after about a 45 minute climb.
Hidden Canyon is essentially a chasm between two portions of mountain that goes back into the mountains before climbing out into the middle of the range. The canyon is 10-20ft wide at most - at least for the portion I hiked. The path is a dry riverbed, with sheer 100ft walls to either side, that I followed for about a mile until I came to an arch carved out of the rock by wind and water that I used as shelter from the drizzling rain while I ate lunch. Making it back to the entrance of the Canyon, I was treated to fantastic view of Angel's Landing where I'd climbed the day before.
Next, I retraced my steps about halfway down the mountain to find a trail that split off in the other direction toward Echo Canyon. About a half hour later, I came to the a place where the trail widened to about 100ft and a rock outcropping curled over the top of the trail. This was Echo Canyon with its red-rock tunnel of a canyon. It wasn't as big as the other canyons I'd found, but impressive in it's own right for the way the rock 'roof' balanced atop the trail and the picturesque variety of colors of red and white rock all around. After a while, I headed back down to the shuttle stop to catch a ride to the end of the paved are of Zion National Park where The Narrows began.
The full Narrows trail is about 16 miles long and you start from the opposite end of where I was, camping overnight along the way. Still getting my hiking feet in shape, I opted for a day trip. I began at the end, were the Virgin River enters the main portion of Zion National Park. The Narrows gets its namesake as the canyon surrounding the river narrows to 4-10ft in many places and you have to wade through the river to get through. The same is true even in the wider sections of The Narrows where patches of land are separated by long stretches of water that was snow not so long ago. I found myself immediately initiated into this with my first step on the trail right into the river.
My first ten steps into the water were the last ten my feet remember as the freezing water quickly cut off all feeling. I later found out that the water temperature was a toasty 57F...yikes! I alternated between trekking over land and through chilly river waters as I made my way around the first bend. Here, I
came upon the first section of the trail where there was no land to be found and water was the only way forward. Halfway to the next piece of land, the riverbed dropped 5ft and just my head was above the hypothermia-inducing waters. I continued on with the land and water trek taking in the array of astounding natural beauty of the canyon around me.
Along the way I periodically came across other hikers (most heading south to complete their multi-day hikes) and we acknowledged each other with a simple head nod almost so as not to disturb the peace, quiet and beauty surrounding us. The chill in my body faded away as each bend of the canyon revealed yet another awe-inspiring scene. It was the exclamation point to my time spent at Zion and the first leg of my trip. It also reminded me that while I'm eager to see new lands throughout this trip, there are still plenty of treasures right in my own backyard that await my return.Wednesday, June 07, 2006
An Unexpected Adventure
I was a little apprehensive that my visit to canyon country might not live up to the expectations I'd created in my head over the years from all the pictures, magazine articles and television documentaries I'd seen. So, I was more than pleasantly surprised to find that Zion National Park not only lived up to those expectations, but exceeded them.
The drive into the park alone was impressive with towering cliffs on each side as you drive down the valley between. Climbing aboard the convenient, frequent and clean-powered shuttle bus I was pleased to find that these shuttles allowed the rest of the park to remain vehicle free which lent to it's astonishing beauty.
Unsure of both my own fitness level and the difficulty of the surrounding trails (more so the former), I set out on an easy-to-moderate trail leading me around the mountain foothills to the Emerald Pools. Though the Middle Emerald Pools were supposedly only about 150ft above the trail entrance, my wheezing and panting made it feel more like 15,000ft. Yet, I pressed on and soon found myself wandering through a series of connected trails that eventually led me to the base of a sheer cliff.
Curious, I decided to wander up the steepening trail 'just a little further' to see what was at the end of the next portion of the trail. This potentially fatal logic continued (wheezing & panting all the while) at the end of each portion of the trail until, 45 minutes later, I found myself at the top of the sheer cliff via a series of seriously steep switchbacks. To my mental delight and physical dismay, I found that I had only just begun whatever trail I was on as it continued through a canyon stretching back between the 
mountains. Feeling oddly inspired, I continued to follow it back until I reached a point where it proceeded up the cliff wall through another series of steep, short switchbacks called "Walter's Wiggles". After 20 minutes, but successfully atop the 100ft incline, I decided they should be named "Walter's Giggles" because I'm pretty sure Walter was laughing at me with every winded step.
At the top, the cliff widened into a plateau and I was able to take my first glance at the trail I'd climbed as well as the surroundings. The words "remarkable" and "amazing" come quickly to mind to describe the scenery around and below me. Sheer red-rock walls capped by white limestone (I think) with streams of water streaking down the rock face as rain water finally sees the light of day again after millions of years filtering through the rock. All well worth the price of admission.
But, ahead of me lay the final portion of the trail: a 500ft incline along the spine of a rock wall that was no more than 3ft wide along the majority of it, leading to a skinny plateau at the top of the rock face. Emboldened by having unexpectedly made it this far, I decided to complete my unplanned adventure. While my size 14s barely hung on the skinny trail, I climbed boulders and jagged rock faces, often using the dubiously placed chains scattered along this portion of the trail to help steady you in the narrowest and steepest spots.
Three hours after I'd started, I summited Angel's Landing where I was rewarded with stunning 360-degree views of Zion National Park. Words would not do justice to describe the sights on display from my new vantage point. But, it was easy to see what brings people here and why it was deemed land worth protecting as a national park. Whatever pains and aches I'd endure tomorrow would be well worth it for the endorphin overload I was experiencing from atop Angel's Landing.
The drive into the park alone was impressive with towering cliffs on each side as you drive down the valley between. Climbing aboard the convenient, frequent and clean-powered shuttle bus I was pleased to find that these shuttles allowed the rest of the park to remain vehicle free which lent to it's astonishing beauty.Unsure of both my own fitness level and the difficulty of the surrounding trails (more so the former), I set out on an easy-to-moderate trail leading me around the mountain foothills to the Emerald Pools. Though the Middle Emerald Pools were supposedly only about 150ft above the trail entrance, my wheezing and panting made it feel more like 15,000ft. Yet, I pressed on and soon found myself wandering through a series of connected trails that eventually led me to the base of a sheer cliff.
Curious, I decided to wander up the steepening trail 'just a little further' to see what was at the end of the next portion of the trail. This potentially fatal logic continued (wheezing & panting all the while) at the end of each portion of the trail until, 45 minutes later, I found myself at the top of the sheer cliff via a series of seriously steep switchbacks. To my mental delight and physical dismay, I found that I had only just begun whatever trail I was on as it continued through a canyon stretching back between the 
mountains. Feeling oddly inspired, I continued to follow it back until I reached a point where it proceeded up the cliff wall through another series of steep, short switchbacks called "Walter's Wiggles". After 20 minutes, but successfully atop the 100ft incline, I decided they should be named "Walter's Giggles" because I'm pretty sure Walter was laughing at me with every winded step.At the top, the cliff widened into a plateau and I was able to take my first glance at the trail I'd climbed as well as the surroundings. The words "remarkable" and "amazing" come quickly to mind to describe the scenery around and below me. Sheer red-rock walls capped by white limestone (I think) with streams of water streaking down the rock face as rain water finally sees the light of day again after millions of years filtering through the rock. All well worth the price of admission.
But, ahead of me lay the final portion of the trail: a 500ft incline along the spine of a rock wall that was no more than 3ft wide along the majority of it, leading to a skinny plateau at the top of the rock face. Emboldened by having unexpectedly made it this far, I decided to complete my unplanned adventure. While my size 14s barely hung on the skinny trail, I climbed boulders and jagged rock faces, often using the dubiously placed chains scattered along this portion of the trail to help steady you in the narrowest and steepest spots.
Three hours after I'd started, I summited Angel's Landing where I was rewarded with stunning 360-degree views of Zion National Park. Words would not do justice to describe the sights on display from my new vantage point. But, it was easy to see what brings people here and why it was deemed land worth protecting as a national park. Whatever pains and aches I'd endure tomorrow would be well worth it for the endorphin overload I was experiencing from atop Angel's Landing.Tuesday, June 06, 2006
An Incredible Feat Of Human Engineering
I never realized just how close Vegas is to Hoover Dam. Guess all the times I've been to Vegas, heading outside the casinos hasn't really been a priority (nor has being awake during daylight). In reality, it's just a quick 30 minute drive to see one of the modern wonders of the world. Hopefully, the first of many modern and ancient wonders I'll be seeing.
I drove across the dam first to reach the available parking. As I crossed it, I hoped my car wasn't going to be the 'one too many' that broke the back of the cement monolith. Driving across, it was difficult to get a sense of the dam itself. But, as I walked across, this feat of engineering was clearly impressive.
I drove across the dam first to reach the available parking. As I crossed it, I hoped my car wasn't going to be the 'one too many' that broke the back of the cement monolith. Driving across, it was difficult to get a sense of the dam itself. But, as I walked across, this feat of engineering was clearly impressive.
Straddling the Nevada/Arizona border that meets in the middle of the dam, I looked down the front side which is something like 400ft straight down. The damn is concave in front and bows out at the bottom which gave the impression that one could almost slide down it. The sheer scope of the shape and size, not too mention the amount of concrete involved, was impressive.
The back side is impressive in a different regard. There is no massive slab of concrete to be seen (but,it's there). But, the massive volume of water that's backed up behind the dam is mind-boggling for someone for whom physics was never his strong point. I was particularly intrigued by the ring of white rock that extended about 20 feet above 
the water before the same rock turned back to its normal red-brown. It's the high-water mark which seemed alarmingly close to the top of the dam and it was apparent that the overflow channel can and has been used. Even more interesting was how the rock had been "bleached" by the water which stopped at a perfect, uniform line all around.
Equally intriguing were the glut of power lines that come up from the base where the power plant is located and go out in all directions over the mountains above. Amazing how much power can be generated by that single structure and triumph of an human engineering feat that's some 80+ years old (although I'm one who wouldn't mind seeing the natural Colorado River come back in that area). Despite it's age and the massive amount of pressure the dam must be under on a daily basis, it doesn't seem to show signs of aging. I wish I could say the same.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Viva Las Vegas
Las Vegas was planned as a convenient stop to break up the trip from Los Angeles to Zion National Park. Turns out it's about the only place you can stop between those two points. The road from LA to Vegas is hundreds of miles of nothing but open, desolate Mojave desert that rises to 5,000ft above sea level.
Had I realized just how uninhabited it can be along the way, I probably would've avoided the steering wheel-clenching, sweat-inducing 30 minutes I had looking for the next gas station over each ridge after my low fuel light had been on for what seemed hours. The fact that it was 114F outside didn't help either. But, luck prevailed and I found a remote station to fill up and make it the rest of the way to Vegas. For that convenience I paid the wallet lightening price of $4.29/gallon...for regular.
Closing in on Vegas, I noticed that it just kind of rises out of the desert like an Oasis. A neon oasis at that. But, the Sahara provided a cheap ($40/night) rest stop right on the strip. After the sun set and the temp dropped about 30 degrees, I set out for a stroll down the strip. I decided to check out some of the casinos as a means of free entertainment for the evening, including the Wynn, Venetian, Bellagio, Paris, Alladin and Caesar's Palace.
The Venetian was definitely my favorite. While it's still a casino, it seemed to recreate an Italian facade in a non-cheesy way as much as a Vegas casino is capable. I walked along its Gran Canal with gondola rides and storefronts along the way ending at a replica Italian plaza. If you're heading to Vegas in the future, I'd highly recommend checking it out. For some additional free entertainment, I checked out a couple of "shows" at the Bellagio's grand fountain in front of the casino. About every 15 minutes, the iconic fountain (featured in the end scene of the Ocean's Eleven remake) puts on water shows with water spouts timed to the music.
Had I realized just how uninhabited it can be along the way, I probably would've avoided the steering wheel-clenching, sweat-inducing 30 minutes I had looking for the next gas station over each ridge after my low fuel light had been on for what seemed hours. The fact that it was 114F outside didn't help either. But, luck prevailed and I found a remote station to fill up and make it the rest of the way to Vegas. For that convenience I paid the wallet lightening price of $4.29/gallon...for regular.
Closing in on Vegas, I noticed that it just kind of rises out of the desert like an Oasis. A neon oasis at that. But, the Sahara provided a cheap ($40/night) rest stop right on the strip. After the sun set and the temp dropped about 30 degrees, I set out for a stroll down the strip. I decided to check out some of the casinos as a means of free entertainment for the evening, including the Wynn, Venetian, Bellagio, Paris, Alladin and Caesar's Palace.
The Venetian was definitely my favorite. While it's still a casino, it seemed to recreate an Italian facade in a non-cheesy way as much as a Vegas casino is capable. I walked along its Gran Canal with gondola rides and storefronts along the way ending at a replica Italian plaza. If you're heading to Vegas in the future, I'd highly recommend checking it out. For some additional free entertainment, I checked out a couple of "shows" at the Bellagio's grand fountain in front of the casino. About every 15 minutes, the iconic fountain (featured in the end scene of the Ocean's Eleven remake) puts on water shows with water spouts timed to the music.
Calling it a night, I headed back to the Sahara where I was lured in by a $3 Blackjack table (yeah, big spender). I slapped down my $15 and took my chances with lucky number 21. For probably the first time ever in Vegas, I came out on top. After about an hour of playing I went to bed $10 richer than when I arrived. In Vegas, I'll take what I can get.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
You Can Go Home Again
For my second and last day in LA, I ventured out to explore a few places on my own, the first of which was to stop by my childhood home. I wanted to see if that house, neighborhood and my nearby elementary school were as I remember or if some things have been revised in my head over time.
As I found myself turning onto Citronia Street, my old street, most of it seemed refreshingly familiar. I recognized the house of a childhood friend just as I turned into the neighborhood and the blocks I used to walk toward that house on the way to school. I came to the intersection that marked the beginning of my block. This is the corner where I famously (at least to my family) ran away from home, but didn't go past the corner because I wasn't allowed to cross the street....a rebel and rules abider all at once.
As I came to my house, I recalled the neighboring homes that surrounded it and the neighbors I knew well that once lived in them. Looking upon my own house, I was reassured to find it much as I remembered it albeit quite a bit smaller than I recalled as a kid (its all relative when you're small, I suppose). I was somewhat disappointed to find that the current owner didn't seem to be giving it quite the TLC my parents had. It wasn't in bad shape, but just lacked the personality it once had. Regardless, it was good to see it and the neighborhood after so many years.
On my way out, I stopped at my old elementary school which was across Balboa Blvd from my neighborhood....and aptly named, Balboa Blvd Elementary. Despite generally enjoying my classes and the creative/influential teachers I had in my years there, the most vivid memory I have of the school is the playground. It was 
massive. An asphalt potpourri of dodge ball, kick ball, tether ball, hand ball and any other ball related sport without fear of one running into the other. I was somewhat surprised to find that it looked even bigger as an adult than it did as a kid. Sure, it didn't take me as long to walk around it, but it's still massive and providing hours of enjoyment for a new generation of kids.
From there, I decided to make my way up the coast a little and check out the town of Ventura. I've heard a lot about it recently, but had never been there. It's a cool little surf town about 45 minutes northwest of LA. Turns out it's a nice getaway from the zaniness of LA without having to drive too far. It's got a quaint downtown area with main street shops that are still mostly local (albeit one Starbucks) and seem to thrive fairly well. There are a few beach areas to choose from nearby, some of which were within walking distance of the downtown area. I'm hoping that if I go back there in another 10 years that it hasn't changed much despite its proximity to LA sprawl. Some places are better left untouched.
I headed back toward LA proper along a stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) that I'd never traveled before. I usually don't get further than Malibu on PCH. Little did I know that beyond Malibu was an idyllic stretch of coastline driving with breathtaking scenery at every turn and straightaway. It's picturesque with scenic mountains on one side and the Pacific on the other. I stopped and soaked it in periodically along the way.
Once I reached Malibu, the typical weekend logjam of traffic was in full effect. But, if you're going to be stuck in traffic, this is place to do it. The monotony of stop and go is quickly distracted by postcard scenes, surfers and waves crashing the shore. All in all, I returned more refreshed at day's end than when I began.
As I found myself turning onto Citronia Street, my old street, most of it seemed refreshingly familiar. I recognized the house of a childhood friend just as I turned into the neighborhood and the blocks I used to walk toward that house on the way to school. I came to the intersection that marked the beginning of my block. This is the corner where I famously (at least to my family) ran away from home, but didn't go past the corner because I wasn't allowed to cross the street....a rebel and rules abider all at once.
As I came to my house, I recalled the neighboring homes that surrounded it and the neighbors I knew well that once lived in them. Looking upon my own house, I was reassured to find it much as I remembered it albeit quite a bit smaller than I recalled as a kid (its all relative when you're small, I suppose). I was somewhat disappointed to find that the current owner didn't seem to be giving it quite the TLC my parents had. It wasn't in bad shape, but just lacked the personality it once had. Regardless, it was good to see it and the neighborhood after so many years.
On my way out, I stopped at my old elementary school which was across Balboa Blvd from my neighborhood....and aptly named, Balboa Blvd Elementary. Despite generally enjoying my classes and the creative/influential teachers I had in my years there, the most vivid memory I have of the school is the playground. It was 
massive. An asphalt potpourri of dodge ball, kick ball, tether ball, hand ball and any other ball related sport without fear of one running into the other. I was somewhat surprised to find that it looked even bigger as an adult than it did as a kid. Sure, it didn't take me as long to walk around it, but it's still massive and providing hours of enjoyment for a new generation of kids.
From there, I decided to make my way up the coast a little and check out the town of Ventura. I've heard a lot about it recently, but had never been there. It's a cool little surf town about 45 minutes northwest of LA. Turns out it's a nice getaway from the zaniness of LA without having to drive too far. It's got a quaint downtown area with main street shops that are still mostly local (albeit one Starbucks) and seem to thrive fairly well. There are a few beach areas to choose from nearby, some of which were within walking distance of the downtown area. I'm hoping that if I go back there in another 10 years that it hasn't changed much despite its proximity to LA sprawl. Some places are better left untouched.
I headed back toward LA proper along a stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) that I'd never traveled before. I usually don't get further than Malibu on PCH. Little did I know that beyond Malibu was an idyllic stretch of coastline driving with breathtaking scenery at every turn and straightaway. It's picturesque with scenic mountains on one side and the Pacific on the other. I stopped and soaked it in periodically along the way.Once I reached Malibu, the typical weekend logjam of traffic was in full effect. But, if you're going to be stuck in traffic, this is place to do it. The monotony of stop and go is quickly distracted by postcard scenes, surfers and waves crashing the shore. All in all, I returned more refreshed at day's end than when I began.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Lift Off
Nine months in the planning, it's finally time to embark on this adventure around the globe. For a while, it seemed that this day might continue to be a distant mark on the calendar. But in the next few hours, the adventure finally begins.
The first leg of the journey will take me to the canyons, deserts and urban enclaves of the Southwest where I've wanted to explore since I left that area over 20 years ago. I'll kick things off with a visit to Los Angeles to see friends and explore the stomping grounds of my youth. Then it's a quick stop to see the Hoover Dam before heading over to Utah for a tour of canyon country with Zion, Bryce Canyon, Arches and Canyonlands national parks on tap. That will be followed by a drive through Monument Valley on the way to a long-pursued visit to the Grand Canyon.
Setting sail for international waters, I'll first dip my toe in Costa Rica and Peru before heading for a lengthy sting in Oceania, namely Fiji, New Zealand, and Australia. Next up will be a couple months in Southeast Asia visiting Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia if all goes according to plan. Finally, I'll spend some time in the Greek Isles, with perhaps a side trip to Egypt, before heading to Europe for the last leg of the trip.
Along the way, I will document my journey through journal entries and updates along with photos to keep a record for posterity while sharing my experiences with friends and family.
The first leg of the journey will take me to the canyons, deserts and urban enclaves of the Southwest where I've wanted to explore since I left that area over 20 years ago. I'll kick things off with a visit to Los Angeles to see friends and explore the stomping grounds of my youth. Then it's a quick stop to see the Hoover Dam before heading over to Utah for a tour of canyon country with Zion, Bryce Canyon, Arches and Canyonlands national parks on tap. That will be followed by a drive through Monument Valley on the way to a long-pursued visit to the Grand Canyon.
Setting sail for international waters, I'll first dip my toe in Costa Rica and Peru before heading for a lengthy sting in Oceania, namely Fiji, New Zealand, and Australia. Next up will be a couple months in Southeast Asia visiting Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia if all goes according to plan. Finally, I'll spend some time in the Greek Isles, with perhaps a side trip to Egypt, before heading to Europe for the last leg of the trip.
Along the way, I will document my journey through journal entries and updates along with photos to keep a record for posterity while sharing my experiences with friends and family.
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