Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 484

Laos: Taking a wrong turn.

The road wound for miles in front of us. I could see the shadow of the bike and its two riders stretching out on the road next to us. Something came into view ahead, at first just a blurry shape, slowly coming into solid form. A lonely cow ambled towards us, and we adeptly maneuvered slowly around her. We overtook a tractor-pulled cart full of workers on their way to work. They passed from our line of sight, into our side mirrors, and then slowly behind the horizon behind us. We were alone on the road again.

We had been on the road for a while now, travelling through all that Asia had to offer. I’d like to have said that we were fairly seasoned travellers by the time we reached Laos, though looking back on it now, that wasn’t strictly true.

It was fairly late in the evening when a Scottish couple joined us on the single table out on the small open space serving as a balcony in a nondescript hostel in Pakse. We quickly struck up a conversation about our travels so far, they had been to Cambodia, our next destination, and we to Thailand, their next country, so we eagerly exchanged tips, advice and experiences.

We’d only been talking for a couple of hours, but they soon convinced us to join them on their motorbike trip planned for the next day, we’d wanted to go to the same places, but were a little reluctant to ride bikes after our last experience in India ended in a painful mishap.

The next three days are still my favourite memories of Laos.

Southern Laos is vastly unexplored by travellers, the government is anticipating an influx of tourists, as has happened in the North, so the infrastructure is being prepared, but as yet there isn’t much evidence of anyone really using it. This provided miles and miles of open road, with no one and nothing on it. Save for four people on two bikes.

There’s something that makes me inherently happy about seeing other people’s lives and everyday goings on. We cruised through lush paddy fields, with backdrops of majestic mountains rising out of the ground on the horizon. Occasionally a small wooden house would creep up to the road, and the houses are on stilts because of the flooding of rice fields. We passed women in the fields, water up to their knees, hunched over in the fields, sowing or inspecting the crops. They didn’t take a blind bit of notice of us. We were looking for Tad Fan, a 120 metre high waterfall that we’d heard great things about.

Tad Fan is not where we ended up.

We parked our bikes and paid the fares to the dubious looking guy who just happened to be sitting in the bike park – did he actually work here or was he just happy to take money from strangers. Who knows? Leaving the bikes to fate, and following the vague signage that seemed to be pointing in the middle of a field, we followed the track down the hill, some rickety old steps, and over some unsteady stepping stones in the river.

We definitely weren’t at Tad Fan. We were at a considerably smaller waterfall, about 20 metres high, which descended almost noiselessly into a wide, deep pool. The whole area was surrounded by woodland, which meant that the light that did get through to us was bouncing off the water in the pool, and off the waterfall itself. The whole area was bathed in light and had a real ethereal feel about it, as if the waterfall Gods were shining on us. This was helped in part by the fact that we were the only people there. The whole area was silent apart from the rustle of the trees and the splashes we made as we waded into the pool and swam across and under the watery curtain.

Eventually someone else did pop our blissful private bubble, and we dried off and headed for the real Tad Fan, which was actually a little disappointing after our otherworldly experience just across the road. Turns out we’d taken a left, when we should have gone right.

It was a pretty good wrong turn.

About the Author: Laura is a teacher and traveller, sometimes both at the same time. Her favourite things are eating, cooking, reading, and kittens. You can find more of her stories at www.travelthelongwayround.com .

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Turkmenistan: The Gates of Hell

Surely there is nothing that can make a person feel more independent, more truly in charge of their own life, than the opportunity to drive around one of the most closed and unknown countries in the world. Separation from civilisation won’t always and doesn’t necessarily make a person feel free, but this is my story of how it can.

Other than an intermittent convoy of trucks it was just us, the sand dunes and a few patches of ankle high shrubbery as we drove through the Turkmen desert towards our most anticipated destination on this epic drive from Australia to Scotland. We had been given directions, sort of, but considering the lack of landmarks, signs or even roads, we were prepared for a struggle in following the laughably approximate instructions.

Just after the not so charming town of Darvaza which had been demolished on command of the President because he “didn’t like how it looked”, a beautiful modern road bridge stood alone beside the road. Complete with barriers and street lights, we came to the astounding realisation that there was no way to drive on or off of it. In all its cemented glory this completely impractical piece of infrastructure was a fitting reflection of the bizarre state of Turkmenistan’s progress.

A couple of kilometres down the road from this memorable example of modernity a dusty sign pointed west, and opposite the sign a variety of tracks led towards the sand dunes to the east. Following the tracks we crossed a small ridge at which point the tracks disappeared and we proceeded to spend the next couple of hours skidding through sand dunes, driving backwards and forwards and around in circles, unable to find what we were looking for. Just as we were about to give up on yet another route and do yet another u-turn, we spotted a boy on a bike up ahead.

When we asked for directions he knew exactly what we were referring to and pointed us back the way we’d come. Starting to feel like we were on a wild goose chase, we were relieved when he asked if we wanted him to guide us there. Of course we did! For a fee. Darn. We were ready to pay him 3 Manat, but to our disappointment he laughed at our offer and asked for 70 Manat. No thanks. We headed back and this time we decided to take a narrow ridge which dissected two sandy mounds. Reaching the crest, we descended the other side and were instantly struck speechless by the fierce glow emerging from the giant flaming crater that was suddenly visible on the plain in front of us. We’d made it!

Completely awestruck, we stopped the car and ran down the valley towards the flames. As we neared the edge of the crater, the enormity of this unnatural phenomenon baffled us. In 1971, during the reign of the Soviet Union, a failed exploration of Turkmenistan’s vast natural gas reserves had resulted in an explosion and thus, a crater. The amount of gas escaping from the ground was more than they’d experienced before, and hoping to curb its seeping into the air, they set it alight, but with no grasp of the sheer quantity that was bleeding from the ground, it hadn’t just burnt off as expected. Now this giant crater, 70 metres in diameter, had been on fire for over 41 years.

Instinctively drawn to the unguarded edge, perfectly aware of the imminent danger yet disturbingly immune to the fear, we saw for ourselves the reality in the imagery of the name colloquially given to the crater – “The Gates of Hell”. One gigantic flame swirled out from the centre of the hole, curling several metres into the air, while smaller flames seeped out from cracks in the rocky walls, blurring in the haze. We watched the burning crater all evening, from dusk to well into the night, amazed by the intensity of the colour against the night back drop. The heat was intense, and along with sand from the desert floor, it caught in the wind and threw itself at us, making for an uncomfortably dusty evening. Everything else paled into insignificance though to the sense of elation and unending freedom that enveloped us thanks to the red glow rising from the earth in front of us.

I cannot stress the awesome sense of independence that being completely alone with this unique scene brought; for the vast majority of the time there would not be a single soul present at this crater. It brings to mind the old adage of whether the tree falling in an empty forest still thuds as it hits the ground. Does the burning gas crater still burn if there’s no one there to watch it?

About the Author: Eilidh Robertson: Originally from Scotland I now live in Australia, and amidst a variety of jobs my adult life thus far has revolved around travelling. I’m doing my best to experience the untouched corners of the world as much as possible and my most recent trip was an overland roadtrip by car from Australia to Scotland. Find me on Facebook or check out my blog.

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Peru: Shamanic Awakening

Peru: Shamanic Awakening

“Oh, winds of the South… breathe upon us…blow upon us…touch our hearts now. . .”

The voice is soft. Musical. As feminine as its source. With outstretched arms, she turns first to the sky and then to me, her brown hair sailing in the jungle breeze.

I am sitting deep in the Peruvian rainforest, my back to an outdoor altar. Twelve travelers surround me in this shamanic temple. The moon floats just above the horizon, so huge, so full, so bright that it turns the trees, huts and reeds into surrealistic silhouettes against billowing clouds. A hidden jungle symphony serenades us. So astonishing. So appropriate.

We’re gathered for a ritual. My ritual. My miraculous fertility ritual. After 14 years of tests, surgery, hormones and hopelessness, then finally acceptance and peace, I am pregnant.

I can barely take in the reality. It is only the third week of a four-month journey in South America. Through a perfect coincidence, I am backpacking with a woman I met only months before, and she turns out to be a New York midwife.

Susan had been eager to see the rudimentary health facilities in the jungle city of Iquitos, so even though I was told years ago that I couldn’t have children, and even though I knew my nausea was from Andes altitude and greasy food, I humored her. The week before, we found a walk-in “Laboratorio Clinicos,” with no running water, no clean cups and barely enough electricity to light the tiny cement room. I looked at the archaic microscope and was glad I was only pretending. I left a urine sample and took off to explore the dirt-street city while Susan was thrilled to stay behind. When I return a couple of hours later, the Peruvian lab tech waved the slide in the air with a smiling exclamation: “Es positivo!”

Oh winds of the West, breathe upon us… blow upon us…touch our hearts…

The voice brings me back from my wanderings. It belongs to beautiful Shaman Lorna Kelly, who weaves her words in concert with the jungle.

Great Jaguar, come to us. Teach us how to walk the path of the spiritual warrior, the path of the heart…

“Ho,” we respond. The native ‘amen.’ Lorna had told us – a dozen strangers from the U.S. and Canada who journeyed four hours down the Amazon to the village of Tamshiyacu and another two on foot through the forest to this remote shamanic retreat – that in honor of my miraculous news, she was going to combine the rites of the fertility maiden with an ancient Fire ceremony. Little did we know!

We’re enveloped in moonlight, incense, buzzing, chirping, whoooing of night birds – all the sounds of the thick, lush South American “serva.” In her long, flowing dress, Lorna is a dark figure against the iridescent clouds, a white figure against the navy sky. A solo dance of positive and negative.

To her side is Don Augustine Rivas, the Peruvian shaman whose temple we occupy. He is playing a flute with such sweetness and power that we are all intoxicated, all connected in this primal cacophony.

Oh winds of the North, breathe upon us…blow upon us…touch our hearts tonight…

Ho. We sit in silence, floating in the intensity of the moment. Only the jungle continues to speak. Louder. Closer.

I am still in the middle of the circle, Lorna at my feet. I close my eyes to open to deeper senses. It is hours or minutes, I don’t know. Lorna invokes spirits, guides, animal friends, and especially Pachamama ¬– Mother Earth ¬– from whose womb we all emerge. I hear and don’t hear, until SCHHHHHLLLLLLLPPPP pierces the air. Even without looking, I cannot mistake Don Augustine’s distinctive, shrill sucking on his sacred pipe, followed by the whooooosh as he releases smoke to the spirits. Seven more blows, then sudden silence, marked only by the mystical reverb of a Tibetan bowl.

Tinggggggggggggggg. Tinggggggggggg. Tingggggggggggg.

The night closes in fire. One by one, we approach the flames, bathe our arms as if it is silk, and make our personal wishes. Mine? To always feel as free, as connected, as filled and as blessed as I do in this moment.

For years, in a very different world of diapers and food mills, I held onto the intensity of the ceremony. It often took the form of serenity, making me feel content, unencumbered and even creative during my tedious daily routine. And now, as my “miracle” baby turns 21, I still carry the power of that night, the pull of the Peruvian rainforest. At the least expected times, it hits me. And in those moments I am immediately connected and free.

About the Author: Merry Brennan is an artist, activist, adventure-lover, and author of the biographical novel Peace Pilgrim: walking her talk against hate. Connect with at her blog about writing, aging and living in peace.

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Healthy Habits on the Road

Backpacking around the globe is a tough job but someone’s gotta do it.

On a slightly more serious note however, I find it is super easy to fall into bad habits while  travelling, especially if you’re on a tight budget. Staying in a small hostel in the middle of say, Bangkok, is not very conducive to getting some exercise. It’s possible of course, but I’m more of a motivationally challenged individual so I have to be more disciplined about the whole thing.

It just so happened that when I was in Koh Samui last year, a big hotel chain was organising an annual charity run around a part of the island. It was a perfect opportunity to get the running shoes out and while taking part in an event in blistering heat and sunshine is probably not the best idea I’ve ever had, it was totally worth doing. Especially going for the deep tissue massage afterwards!

 

By Gruban, via Wikimedia Commons

The unexpected benefit was actually interacting with the local people also taking part. Therefore one thing I always advise friends or family who are going off backpacking or for an extended holiday is to research local events. It’s a great opportunity to both mix with locals and get some nice exercise in.

 

Which leads me to, drum roll……………………………..

 

5 Tips for Healthy Habits While Travelling

 

1. Don’t neglect exercise! It’s so easy to do but it is totally worth the effort of asking around for local running routes or parks and beaches etc. Even hotel gyms can do a job in a tight spot. I prefer the outside as you get sightseeing AND exercise at the same time – bargain. Travelling around with an enormous backpack is exercise in itself but the extra exercise is worth the trouble.

 

2. Eat regularly – obvious right? I mean, you’ll shrivel up and die if you don’t. Tsk, I meant eat at regular times – it’s easy to get out of sync and start eating at random times to fit around your sightseeing schedule. Or sometimes I’ll skip a meal if the temperature is too hot. A regular pattern will help you feel better and more energised. FunFact – a regular eating pattern also helps to prevent jetlag!

 

3. Take advantage of the cheaper medical services IF they are of sufficient quality. Medical tourism is booming but at the same time don’t go getting $10 laser eye surgery just because you can. Compare the benefits to back home. One example, there are loads of dentists in Thailand but do check around for the quality ones. Else you’ll be better off doing your teeth whitening in London!

 

4. Be adventurous, order a vegetarian dish from time to time and load up on those greens. I know in Thailand there’s a few good dishes for vegetarians. If you’re in India, you’re in heaven. But just make sure your food is good to eat. Delhi belly is neither fun nor healthy. The point is obviously to load up on those vital vitamins and minerals that might be lacking if you’re eating non-stop pad thai.

By Lolita Marrec, via Wikimedia Commons

5. Water, water, water. A no brainer and probably doesn’t need to be said but here it is anyway. Make sure dehydration doesn’t hit and ensure you’re getting enough fluids to keep you going around all the sights. If you’re hitting developing countries, bottled water is the only way to go. Luckily it is usually cheap as chips which is great, because you’ll be buying a lot of it!

 

By 三色 via Wikimedia Commons

 

How do you keep healthy on the road? Share your tips and comments below!

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Myanmar: Exploring Bagan Day Two (video)

WATCH: 25 Exploring Bagan, Myanmar (Burma) Day Two 

ABOUT BAGAN:

I read that at one time there were 13,000 temples, pagodas and religious structures in Bagan. There are now about 2000 temples from the 11th to 13th century.

On October 11, 2012, I took an afternoon walk to see more temples. I found Gu-byauk-nge and Gu-byauk-gyi. A woman opened a temple for me but I am not sure of the name. I did enjoy video-taping by flashlight! From Anawratha Road, I went to temples by walking through the fields possibly Soo lay gon group or Wut ta na taw group. A restoration worker was fixing the three large buddhas in the central area. He pointed up so I went up to look out. You get such a different view from up above. The passageways are dark, steep and have many broken steps but it is worth it. I enjoyed it but then he came up and pointed up one level higher up! It seemed too high but I went. He pointed out Hilo Milo and a few other stupas. When it started to rain, it seemed smart to get down!

I found a very reconstructed stupa with a large Buddha inside and twin stupas that I liked very much with very different looking tops. I crossed the field and found ox in front of a stupa and a team of oxen plowing a field.

Thanks for watching our movies as of June 2013 we are over 92,000 views! And now in July 2013 we are over 104,000 views!

This movie is from our 28 days in Myanmar (Burma) from September 28, 2012 to October 26, 2012 and our year TRIP in South East Asia, see all the videos from our trip

Our memoir, Traveling in Sin, is now available at Amazon.com.

 

Traveling In Sin: A True Tale of Transformation Through Love and Travel from Lisa Niver Rajna

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Poland: The Magic of Discovering Legacy

The Magic of Discovering Legacy

By Esther K. Meyers

My trip grew from a seed planted in the earliest of my days. It gradually took shape inside me and finally demanded to bloom into reality. My parents’ stories about this place populated my youthful dreams. Six decades before I was to walk it, I imagined the magic of this land with its clean air, blue skies and fluffy white clouds.

My coming back to Poland would complete a circle. My parents’ flight from this land almost 70 years ago featured midnight border crossings and false papers. My return trip was a transatlantic flight and a bus ride.

My mother had been a young career woman here, enjoying a highly cultured town and her many suitors. I wondered if they brought her flowers like the bright pink ones near my hotel. My father was a brilliant rabbinic student. Had he walked this very street to get to his Yeshiva, his academy? From their stories, I knew what their houses looked like and the names of their schools.

The Holocaust would change everything, but I was spared those details until much later.

Mommy told me of her childhood. Her father would bring milk from the family’s freshly milked cow to her bedside in the morning and sing the morning prayers with her. Daddy would remind himself of his family that was no more, “Ikh hob aikhet a mameh gehat!”, that he had a mother once too. I would beg, “Daddy, where is your Mommy? What does she look like? Where does she live? Take me to her, please, Daddy”. I hungered for the details that would make my dreams of this place more vivid.

So, I had finally made it here! It was Friday evening in the place of my dreams and I was one of eight Jews entering a tiny meeting space to celebrate the Sabbath. There was a rush to get ready. A young woman was placing candlesticks on the table, the only man of the group walked in with a pot of homemade humus. While others were busy in the adjacent tiny kitchen, I put out wine glasses and little plates.

The room was stuffy. I opened a window. The suddenly worried faces near me signaled that windows normally are kept shut for these events, to avoid trouble I guessed. The group was too embarrassed to admit their fear, so that night a window remained open and we had the fresh air I knew from my mother’s stories.

I was told that I was the ‘guest star’ of the evening but didn’t understand what was meant until we started chanting the blessings. To my surprise, I was the only one in the room who knew any Hebrew or Yiddish.

My off-key voice dominated by default as we sang the z’mirot, the Sabbath songs and chanted the prayers. I’ve always wished for a nice voice, but that night I ached for the vocal beauty that could transform this moment to the grandeur it deserved.

Aha! I should have realized that these Jews, ranging in age from age 12-70, had lived under regimes that would prevent them from knowing the richness of Jewish life while I, raised two continents and an ocean away, was steeped in the culture and languages that existed here before the war.

As we pulled chunks from the braided bread, I announced, “My father would be saying, “Akhe! Gishmak!”, Oh! How tasty! I tried my best to channel every bit of my daddy’s deep-voiced enthusiasm for a good challah. To my delight, the others, in turn, echoed my performance as if memorizing the phrase for future use. Giggles turned into hearty laughter around the table. Their faces had brightened and relaxed.

As we sat together, I wished that I could gather up this flock and wrap them up in my Mother’s stories just as I had experienced them on her lap. But, in our all too brief time together, I knew that I could feed them only a taste of what they craved to know about our shared legacy.

I offered up a wordless prayer of gratitude for my own freedom, so clearly etched against the image of my courageous friends in this repressed congregation.

This night had indeed been a celebration. I had completed the circle that my parents started. I had returned to walk this land, to stake my claim to its legacy and to recognize freedoms I had not fully appreciated before.

As I boarded the bus for the four hour ride to the airport, I realized that my dream really had come true. I found my parents’ magical land with its clean air, blue skies and fluffy white clouds. And what’s more, I found my fellow ‘Lantsman’, my townsfolk who, it turned out, needed me as much as I needed them.

About the Author: Esther K. Meyers, who lives in Los Angeles, California, is a Speech Pathologist. She was born in a DP camp at the close of the war to holocaust survivor parents. She is currently writing a memoir about the exploration of her legacy.

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India: Time stops at Kasauli

There are so many hill stations in India to contemplate upon that one is spoilt for choice while deciding to visit one of them- more so when one is in the beautiful city of Chandigarh from where the hilly places are not too far away. This time we decided to explore the sweet little town of Kasauli which is inconspicuously situated in the pristine and green Shivaliks. It is a quaint and placid destination which is still as obscure as any remote and dusty village in UP, notwithstanding the 150 years since its discovery by our colonisers.

Being a cantonment settlement of the Indian army, Kasauli is undoubtedly one of the cleanest hill stations in the country. With littering attracting a penalty of Rs 1500 and ban on plastic bags being religiously implemented in the entire city, it is definitely a paradise for nature aficionados.

Kasauli offers an old worldly charm- inviting those seeking solace and peace. Scores of photographers, poets and writers flock to the city in search of some solitude and to be inspired by the serene views of towering mountains and deep green valleys. Kasauli is particularly popular for its out of the world views of sunrise and sunset; it harbours in its biome an eclectic flora and fauna which is a treat for nature lovers and wildlife enthusiasts alike.

Some of the most visited tourist spots in and around Kasauli include Manki(some call it Monkey) Point and Christ Church at lower mall road and sunset point at the upper mall road. The Kasauli Bazaar or the Heritage Bazaar is the quintessential mall road market that holistically completes the hill station. The town possesses a setting akin to the Victorian era as if the Englishmen are still overseeing the operations and taking care of their most beloved summer retreat. It’s a fairy tale town with an innocent ability to make you fall in deep love and reverie.

To tingle our taste buds, we had impeccably cooked momos, tikkis and samosas from a shack that appeared to be a favourite among the locals- as scores of people were buzzing like bees all around the cramped chamber. Momos were served with three bright coloured chutneys(sauces)-refreshing green, piquant red and sweet white-which made for a presentable contrast on the eco-friendly disposable plate. I loved the novel taste and relished the heavenly delicacy with all possible senses-which touched my soul.

The breeze was now cooler and it was now time to jog towards the beautiful sunset point. It was a sight to behold when the sun shed some of its pride for us to make an eye contact-turning crimson red from fiery orange before vanishing from our view-leaving an ephemeral yet ethereal legacy of incredibly spectacular hues in the western horizon. There was still some light when we spotted the moon directly above us- moments after sunset- as if cheering us up and reminding us that there is always a glimmer of hope and light left behind after every “sunset”. Slowly and gradually, darkness enveloped the sleepy town- making way for twinkling stars- as our eventful yet so relaxing journey came to a pleasant end.

About the Author: Anshumaan Goel is an Engineering student at Delhi Technological University, New Delhi, India who loves to explore new places and travel far and wide. Find him on Facebook.

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Mexico: Gringa Finds Freedom in Guanajuato

The burning sensation in my thighs and glutes fades as I take in the scene before me. The thin, dry mountain air feels light and exhilarating. The wide open space makes me want to spin around and sing like Julie Andrews. Hiking these hills is one of the special perks of living here. This high from being high (about 2,017 meters/ 6,617 feet above sea level) is one of many ways Guanajuato makes me feel free.

I had come to this town, one of Mexico’s famed “silver cities,” as a tourist years before. I remembered the hills, the architecture and the handicrafts. When an opportunity came up to live here as a house-sitter, I jumped at the chance.

The first thing Guanajuato freed me from was the garbage in my head. Upon arriving, I enrolled in a language emersion program – Spanish classes for three hour per day, five days per week. Many of my classes were one on one. No time for spacing out and letting another student carry the load. I had to give 110% of my attention. For a few hours after I class, my brain would stay “in Spanish” and I found myself remarkably free of degrading self-talk and senseless worrying. I simply didn’t have the vocabulary. (Not knowing the word for “should” is a wonderful thing!) Instead, my thoughts were like my grammar – limited to the present tense. It was fabulous therapy.

As I became more confident in my Spanish, I also began to learn my way around. Many Spanish colonial cities are laid out in neat and tidy grids with “avenidas” running north-south, and “calles” running east-west. Not so Guanajuato. Instead, it is a labyrinth of winding alleys which twist and climb in every direction. The brightly colored houses, and grand colonial architecture of Guanajuato spill down the sides of a canyon. This is an inconvenient and unlikely place to build a city, but the surrounding hills are filled with silver, which the Spanish wanted to exploit. Walking somewhere and back, you often find yourself going uphill both ways. Seven years after my arrival, I still barely have a feel for North, South, East and West. Up and down are the relevant directions here. Along with spectacular vistas, those alleyways offered another reward. After six months, I found I’d lost 30 pounds. Talk about liberating! (This, in spite of taking full advantage of the tamales, empanadas, fresh-squeezed orange juice, enchiladas, micheladas and French bread rolls.)

However, I think the greatest sense of freedom comes from having the luxury of being in a foreign place with time to stand still. Culture is both defining and limiting. It’s hard to break the bonds of one’s own culture because you can’t see them. It’s like air, everywhere and therefore invisible. Living in a different culture means encountering people approaching things in a different way.

The question, “Why do they do it like that?” is quickly followed by another question. “Why do we do it like this?” Suddenly there is a choice where things were once automatic. I know that my enjoyment of being here does not mean that this culture is superior. I don’t think you can ever say one culture is better than another. There are many things – the religious conservatism, hierarchical thinking, and the way everything is over-sexualized – that baffle and sometimes bother me. But since I am obviously an outsider, no one expects the cultural norms here to apply to me. They know that gringos sometime do weird things – prefer living alone, wear ugly but practical shoes, maybe don’t believe in Catholicism. As an expat, I am free to view both cultures from the outside and embrace the parts I like.

It is evening now and I sit on my balcony watching the light change as day gives way to twilight. The hills cast dramatic shadows on one another and the rainbow-colored houses pass through a million different hues as they fade into darkness. A drum and bugle corps starts up in the distance, shattering the quiet, but not the peace. Freed from mental and physical baggage, and from the restrictions of culture, I now indulge in enjoying that greatest of all treasures- free time.

About the Author: Jennifer Choban is a native Oregonian, currently living in Guanajuato, Mexico where writes, hikes, engages in home-improvement projects and attempts to improve her Spanish. Find  more stories of her travels.

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WSGT News: 31 Countries in our Contest & Our Book Launch

From Thirty-one Countries: We Said Go Travel Sent Tuesday, July 16, 2013View as plaintext

















We Said Go Travel Newsletter 30:  July 16, 2013




















































We Said: Independence Travel Writing Contest,
 an International Success!




 

188 writers from Thirty-one countries participated 

in our Independence Travel Writing Contest:

Writers from 31 countries: 

Australia, Austria, Canada, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Kenya, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nigeria, Pakistan, Philippines, Portugal, Republic of Moldova, Romania, Singapore, Slovakia, South Africa, Sri Lanka, Sweden, Uganda, UK, Ukraine, USA, Vietnam.(see map above)

 

Wrote about 73 countries: 

Argentina, Australia, Austria, Benin Republic, Bermuda, Bolivia, Brazil, Bulgaria, Burundi, Cambodia, Canada, Chile, China, Cook Islands, Costa Rica, Cuba, Estonia, Ethiopia, Fiji, France, Germany, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Iran, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Japan, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Kyrgyzstan, Laos, Latvia, Lithuania, Malaysia, Malta, Mauritius, Mexico, Mozambique, Myanmar, Nepal, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nigeria, North Korea, Norway, Oman, Pakistan, Panama, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Puerto Rico, Republic of Moldova, Romania, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Sinapore, South Africa, Spain, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Switzerland, Tanzania, Thailand, Turkey, Turkmenistan, Uganda, Ukraine, UK, USA, Vietnam (see map below)

Thank you to all who have participated or shared about it! We are especially grateful to our two wonderful judges, Richard Bangs and Amy Friedman.

Read the INCREDIBLE INDEPENDENCE ENTRIES! More are being published each day.


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TRAVELING IN SIN is now AVAILABLE at Amazon.com.

We left last July for Indonesia for this one year journey and five years ago in July for our first one year sabbatical! Read our memoir, Traveling in Sin , to learn how we met online, and chose to meander from Indonesia to Mongolia. Along the way, I lost over fifty pounds and we got engaged underwater. This book is NOT a collection of blog posts. We have never published this story before! Enjoy all the colorful characters we met and the tears and triumphs of a Peace Corps Worker and a Princess (cruises employee) finding their way together in Asia.

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Lisa and George

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Movies from our Trip





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All 45 of our Myanmar movies are now online!

MOVIES from our trip: See our FIRST MOVIE From NEPAL!

Click the country to see all the movies:  Bali and Lombok Indonesia,Southern Thailand, Myanmar (Burma) , and Nepal on our YouTube Channel. We will be adding movies from Northern Thailand, and India soon.

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TRAVELING IN SIN

Traveling In Sin: A True Tale of Transformation Through Love and Travel from Lisa Niver Rajna

The post WSGT News: 31 Countries in our Contest & Our Book Launch appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Rishikesh, India: Body and Soul

 

RISHIKESH : WHERE BODY DISAPPEARS AND SOUL APPEARS

Thats it. I decided at last.

Having a last fleeting glance at the items  on the bed , I felt fresh and new.

One pair of clothes ,a travel pouch , a towel , a pair of slippers , a novel , a notepad and a shining blue pen. For the next fifteen days , I was about to live with these bare minimum needs . It was not entirely like an animal in a jungle , but it gave me a vicarious feeling of that slice of freedom , which we human beings rarely come to know .

Everything comes with a price tag . How true. This journey did not happen by chance , as nothing ever happens by chance. It took me almost two years , after slogging at a job which pays me enough to survive in a big city , moving from the office back to my small apartment , having breakfast , lunch and dinner all alone for all these two years , when I look back today , how my days were all the same. No single day stands out alone , whispering in my ears , hey I was your day , It was on this day that you felt alive. There is a worst feeling than loneliness. And it is being dead while you are still alive. Have you ever noticed animals in a zoo. I felt like those animals trapped in confined areas with limited access to the outside world . It is neither sadness nor pain , it is a state where there is a complete lack of any sort of emotion. I read motivational books , made freinds , but nothing helped me out to bring back my enthu and zeal towards the life .

Somebody said ………our heart has many wells , some deep , some shallow , but not every rain can fill some wells …….what I needed was a heavy rain so that my soul could be drenched in the shower of some sort of enlightenment……I needed something extraordinary …….out of this world experience.

With those lines of thoughts , I left for Rishikesh , a small town in the northern state of Uttrakhand , Gateways to the Himalayas , world capital of yoga and a place where Beatles found inspiration. My own reason of going there was none of the above , rather I wanted to see the magnificent beauty of snow capped Himalayas and spiritual power of river Ganges.

On the train from Haridwar to Rishikesh , I was awestruck by the courage of a young sadhu . His eyes gleaming with pride when he spoke those words : ‘ Seven years ago, I left my home and came to Varanasi without a single penny in my pocket . I told my parents that I am not interested in the materialistic world and want to lead a spiritual life .They blessed me and I am right here in front of you. ‘

‘What are you looking for ‘I asked.

‘Salvation’

Well , I was certainly not looking for salvation , but neither was I sure of what I wanted from that place at that point of my life. When you travel , you easily find the companion inside you , which is otherwise burried in some corner , not ready to come out on the surface and loneliness gradually becomes solitude. The healing power of nature is far ahead than all the medical innovations by man.

The next halt of this road was Parmarth Niketan ashram , the largest ashram in Rishikesh , having over 1000 rooms with the modern amenities and allure of yoga and meditation . The price starts with Rs 300 for a single room per person. The whole region is vegetarian by law . Alcohol or smoking is not allowed .

First Day -

Usually a day starts with getting up as early as 4 am in the morning , taking the bath in the hot running tap water and then heading for morning yoga classes , followed by maha arti at triveni ghat and having breakfast in the silence . The vastness of the rooms provided with bare furniture imparts them a peaceful aura. I was more inclined towards mediation , a journey within the self. When west has looked outwards ,India has always looked inside to find the solutions of some of our biggest problems.

My first step started with a simple breathing exercise , inhaling , exhaling , just to observe the flow of air inside and outside. No mantras , no chants , only breathing patiently.

INHALE , EXHALE , RELAX…………..INHALE , EXHALE , RELAX……..BREATHE…..JUST BREATHE…………………the cycle continues.

Days which followed afterwards -

Slowly and slowly , what I found out on the successive days , was that the world within me was getting larger with each passing day. While just concentrating on my breathing patterns , I entered into a world of immense peace and happiness. And this world is immense , huge and out of my reach . And there was so much to explore .

Gradually I took less time to reach the meditative state , once I closed my eyes , I was in another world . My inner self would wander and cover great distances unknown to me . My eyes would feel the saffron light as if directly coming from the sun , I would find myself flying in the outer space and all around me there were planets , stars , moons and suns moving with great energy. Suddenly my small room was like a floating ship in the sea of void space filled with cosmic energy . I saw the images of animals running towards me , I felt as if there was a rabbit sittting near by me . Elephants , snakes , ducks , birds , horses. I felt their presence around me. As if different sort of creatures were entering into my room through the window , I felt a flying horse with a wing , then a mermaid , then a large flock of small people walking on the floor of my room. It was completely magical . And after this experience only , I was able connect to the magic of Harry Potter series , that all of that can be felt by a human being.

A Sadhu who had been practicing meditation for many years once said to me unaware of the power of those words that ”Each of our thought is a frequency and it carries immense power , if you know how to control your thoughts and you can focus them in a direction , you will acquire a state , which is both powerful and magical . Freedom is in being , in being alive , being close to yourself. We human beings can achieve this state only by two ways , one is love and the other one is the path of spirituality , where your only desire is to know YOU , to be close to YOURSELF ‘

In that serene valley resting in the lap of Himalayas , I dived deep into the depth of my SOUL , feeling light as a butterfly and mighty as those silent mountains standing tall as everything around them changed over all those years.

After coming back form Rishikesh , I made it sure to practice meditation on each day . Nothing really bothers me now . Problems don’t irritate me . I am more calm and relax . The mind has reached a state of peacefulness . I am at peace with my own self . I enjoy each day as it comes , try to gain as much as I can .When I go to bed , I am entirely spent and enter into a deep sleep so that when I wake up on the next day , I am born again into a NEW day of a NEW World.

 About the Author: I am Dipti Sharma from India. I love reading , travelling and writing . Connect me on Facebook.

The post Rishikesh, India: Body and Soul appeared first on We Said Go Travel.