Italy

As I exit the aircraft, I can't help but feeling a little apprehensive about going back to western society.  I question if the adventures will stop and my trip will become run-of-the mill and dry.  I mean what is there in Europe that isn't completely overrun by tourists and people.  Gone are the days of mystery and intrigue.  Now all I have is churches to see and ruins and monuments.  Which are cool don't get me wrong, but there is nothing adventurous right?  Wrong.  The story I'm about to tell is in no way meant to push any beliefs or ideas on anyone.  It is simply a crazy experience told how I saw it.

Upon arriving in Rome and getting to my hostel I am told that there is a law in all of Italy where they close the hotels and hostels from 10:00 till 2:00 for cleaning.  While this is going on you are kicked out of the hostel and told to go do your tourist stuff.  Seeing as I arrive there at 10am, I am allowed to drop of my bags and then forced to leave.  I walk to the train station and grab a ride to a stop called Collesseo.  Well surely that must be the what I think it is.  And indeed it was.  I step out of the station and see the grand architecture spectacle that is a pit of mass murder and bloody mutilation. Now unknown to me was this was in fact the day of the Rome Marathon.  And it also turns out that the finish line was dramatically at the Colosseum   Also this race is a huge deal and there were masses of people lining the streets, TV cameras everywhere and support cars and tents and big portable monitors to watch the race while it was out of view.  Many many streets are closed and maneuvering around everything became a detour nightmare.  Seeing as I had so much time to kill I decided to walk around to famous fountains and landmarks that are around the Colosseum.  They also have ruins and catacombs that you can pay to walk around and all of it was very nice.

While stopping to get some gellato I chance to hear a line that will lead to an amazing experience.  What I can only assume is the daughter, a mid thirties woman that speaks with an American accent, and her father are sitting in front of me.  The father, a very old man with weather worn, tan, wrinkly skin sits facing me.  His face is dominated by his large nose and his paperboy hat and cane complete the look of the old man from Up.  His daughter calmly asks him, "Well what do you want to do now?"
He responds in a broken English and an extremely heavy Italian accent, "Thea only waya to see a Roma is wander my love."  Over-hearing this I take it to heart.  Alright, I'll make an adventure for myself.

My drive soon diminishes as a get scared of getting lost.  I think I am exploring when in fact I'm just following the masses of people from one place to the next.  An archway or church or ruins or statues.  Seeing as I am about to head back to the train station I begin the detour to get around the race.  Thinking I can remember the route I don't use a map and promptly make a wrong turn.  But in my oblivious confidence I think I am still going the right way.  As I take in my surroundings I chance to look down a tight alleyway.  The colorful buildings on either side will make for a lovely picture and I start down the alley.  After lining up my shot and taking the picture I see the alley continues and decided to see where it put me.  With the old man's advice echoing in my head as I wind my way up the alley.  Past homes and children the alley continues to narrow.  At one point I stop and can touch either side while standing in the middle.  At the end is a lonely door.  There is nothing special about the simple wood door set into a dirt colored wall.  The door is old, warped and very worn.  I do see a brass plaque on the door and walk up to it.  Most everything is worn off on it but I can manage to make out the word basilica.  Basilica?  Like a church that has been deemed holy enough for the pope to serve at?  Like a huge over the top building that is celebrated and talked about in guide books.  Buildings with tons of tourists in them that are closer to art museum than a church.  I look up from the door at the bland and boring exterior.  How on earth is this a basilica?  I lightly press on the door and it swings open.  I take a few steps in and close the door behind me.  "Hello?" I say tentatively.  I don't know what I expected but an answer never came.

As my eyes adjust I see I have stepped into a massive room with 30ft or higher ceilings.  Around the ceiling are all ornate carvings and artwork beautifully inlaid with brass and gold leaf.  Insanely intricate details adorn the ceiling as impressive as any artwork I've seen.  Huge columns 15ft in diameter line the sides making a pathway leading to a statue of Jesus on the cross that seemed miles away.  All this and the room was utterly empty.  Not a soul in the entire building.  I walk towards the altar with my footsteps echoing with everyone.  I have never been a man of god and have never claimed to be.  Religion is not something I follow but I still felt compelled to sit in one of the pews.  My feet hurt from walking all day and I just got off a 13 hour flight and I'm exhausted.  I sit in one of the pews, close my eyes, and relax.

BAM!!

I nearly jump out of my skin as an old man hits the pew.  He is carrying a broom and dustpan and smacks the broom on the pew again.  He points to my head and the makes the 'remove your hat motion' at me.  I quickly remove it and he shuffles away on slippered feet.  I see him cleaning every nook and cranny to an obsessive degree.

I look around the grand empty room.  The shadows have changed.  Crap, I fell asleep.  How long have I been out?  The shadows are long and I glance at my watch.  5:30.  Just as I stand to leave the basilica a small priest walks out of a room beside the altar.  "Hello traveler," he says in perfect English, "I saw you had fallen asleep on my pew and I thought you must have needed it so I let you be.  Please excuse him, he just likes the rules to be followed," pointing at the old man.  "It's not very often we get travelers, where are you from?"
"America," I squeak out.  "I'm sorry for sleeping on your pew, I never meant to fall asleep I was just so tired."
"Oh relax Traveler, this is a place of sanctuary and we are more than happy to help you.  Why were you so tired that a very uncomfortable pew looked good to you?"
"I just got off a 13 hour flight."
"Ah where did you come from?"
And just like that we begin a super long and intricate conversation.  I find myself verbally vomiting on the priest all about my trip and why I did it.  What I wanted out of the trip and what had happened.  I tell him stories and show him pictures on my camera.  He sits and listens intently.  Every so often he interjects his thoughts or surprises.  We move towards life and all the little annoyances and ins and outs of it.  We discuss my future and how I arrived where I am now.  Never once are the words "God" or "Jesus" uttered.  It was not about religion, it was about finally having someone to talk to.  I call him Father and he calls me Traveler.  We discuss happiness and sadness.  Even relationships and girls.  He admits that girls aren't his area of expertise but he listens and offers what little advice he can.  Father is a very funny guy and appeals to my teenage sense of humor often.  "Do you know what the epitome of fear is Traveler?" he asks at one point.
Trying to be all philosophical I respond, "I couldn't say but I guess the all irrational fears boil down to the fear of the unknown."
"Wrong, it is actually that moment when you are taking a wee in a port-a-potty and you feel it start to tip."
We talk for a while longer about life and everything in it until he says "Come with me.  I want to show you something few get to see."  I follow him around the altar and up a narrow steep staircase.  We emerge onto the upper balcony of the massive room.  He begins to tell me the history of the basilica.  It was made a basilica a long long time ago in the traditional style.  It was loud and obnoxious as he put it.  But when the roman empire fell the looters for some reason chose this basilica as the one to sack.  Over the next hundred years or so more priceless artifacts were stolen than anyone knew.  As I look around I see the lack of ornate sculptures and things near the floor.  I also see big chunks and chips out of the columns.  Parts of murals on the walls that are scraped off and cracked.  The only reason the ceiling was left was because no one could reach it due to the design of the room.  The city forgot about it built around it closing it off from the mainstream tourists.  On Sundays a few people come in for mass but 90% of the time it sits empty.  We arrive at the opposite corner of the room about 15ft above the ground floor.  He stops and says "This is the echo corner."  He then faces the wall and makes a WHOOP noise.  The sound fills the grand room and echos too many times to count.  Due to the shape of the room, the acoustics line up just right so the noise is amplified and spread everywhere.  Down below I see the old man shuffling around cleaning and mumbling.  Father sees me looking at him and says "He was homeless and needed a place to sleep.  He came here everyday and prayed for food.  I couldn't help but house him.  But I told him he has to clean for me which he seems happy enough to do."  I tell him to wait for me in the small sitting room behind the altar.

I run out and find the nearest pizzeria {they are on every street corner in Italy} and buy a large pizza to go.  I bring it back up to the basilica and all three of us sit down to eat.  I learn the Father was born in Italy and new he wanted to be a priest early on in life.  He worked his way up until he learned he was going to be assigned to a basilica.  Initially when he learned that he was in the worst basilica in Italy he was upset.  But now he just tries to do whatever good he can from there.  As for his perfect English he says he gets very bored and Rosetta Stone is his only entertainment some days so he studies language to a near obsessive degree.

I learn the Hobo's story through translation by the priest.  He has a severe case of OCD.  When he went to the doctor he was condemned to a mental institution.  He said the drugs they gave him made him brain dead and he couldn't take it and left.  But due to him being out of work for two years due to being in the institution and unresolved OCD no one would give him a job.  His money quickly ran out and he was forced to live on the street until the priest took him in.  He now gets to clean which calms his OCD and has a roof over his head.  He still begs for money on the street and usually makes enough for a meal.  He says it's not the best but it could be worse.


And so there we sat, the Traveler, the Father, the Hobo, and the forgotten basilica, talking over pizza and wine from Father's storage.  We talk and laugh well into the night until I decided I should go back.  I get directions to the train station from Father and say my goodbyes.  The trip back is uneventful but it was all a blur as I was dumbfounded by what just happened.

I have no idea what the name of it was because I forgot to ask.  I got lost to find it so I fear I will never find it again and couldn't take you there if my life depended on it.  I just know that there are amazing people that exist in this world and everyone has a story to tell.  

Next stop is Spain.  Thank you all again for the continued support and I know I will see you all soon.  Ciao!      

China

There comes a point in my trip where I do indeed get exhausted.  That point for me happened in Vietnam.  And not so much exhausted physically but more mentally from all the stress.  Everyday not knowing where you're going to eat or hoping you can find the bus stop, and when you do, praying your on the right on, and then praying you get off at the right stop.  All in an extreme effort to not get lost because if you do it might spell big trouble because no one speaks English.  No one.  Then ordering random food and putting your faith in the sketchy toothless cook that this meal won't have you wrapped around the toilet seeing what you ate four years ago.  It wears on me.  Yes it allows me to completely submerse myself in the culture but t gets tedious after a while.  So upon heading into China (a country I literally know nothing about, and can't ever pretend to read the signs because they are all symbols) I decided to splurge and book a tour of Southern China.  It was meant to be a relaxing week where I let some one else take all the heat and I just tag along for the ride.  But I had made a comment to my guide Mulan (Yes here name is Mulan and she lives in Southern China "Well all she is missing is some armor and a magic dragon and she can DEFEAT THE HUN"...She knows and she has heard it) that I was very serious bout my photography...

Part 1

The Karst 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Mister it's time to awake.  We have sunrise!  You say you very serious so I very serious!"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Yeah I'm coming," I barely mumble

"Ok meet you in lobby.  10 minutes!"

I roll over and look at my watch.  4:30am on the dot.  This is currently my third day in a row waking up at this time.  I told Mulan I was serious about my photography and she knows the best light in the day is sunrise and sunset.  The time where dramatic colors blanket everything, shadows are long and ever reaching and the world is just waking up.

I throw on some filthy and unwashed clothes and stumble down the stairs still half asleep.  Mulan informs me that we have about a hour walk along the Li river before we get to the boat and then about an hour boat ride to the spot we will be shooting this morning.  She puts a flashlight in my hand and takes off.  We begin our walk going through the incredibly rural fishing village we slept in.  The town is only accessible by boat and it is deep with in Southern China's karst landscape.  Huge 1000ft limestone cliffs go straight into a deep blue and green water.  The spires are everywhere and seem to go back into the distance forever.  The town we sleep in still does almost all things traditionally.  There is power and the Internet, but only select houses have a TV and all of their means of survival are still done traditionally.  The stray dogs sing us a symphony as we dodge chickens on our way out of the town.  We continue our walk down the bank until we get to the dock.  The dock is a narrow strip of rocks stretching a small distance into the river.  Since China was one of the first civilizations, the dock is estimated to be about 3500 to 4000 years old.

We board the bamboo raft with an aging gentleman that will be our captain.  As we shove off into the darkness I notice he doesn't use any method of seeing ahead of him.  He has just traveled the river so many times he knows all the ins and out of it.  Later on the silenced is breached by the shouts and banter of the local fisherman.  As we go past one he shouts at our captain to stop.  He paddles over and asks for what I only can assume was a ride up the river.  We have and engine and our captain obliged him.  This is what we came here for.  A sunrise shot of the fisherman on the Li River.  But there is something different about these fisherman.

We arrive at the spot he needs and he lights a lantern to hang on the front of his raft.  As the light slowly surrounds the raft and pushes back the darkness I see the two birds sitting on his raft.  He yells a few sentences at a fisherman across the river and pushes his birds into the water.  The black birds slide into the water and disappear under the surface.  About two minutes later the bird reappears and hops back onto the boat.  The first one waddles up to the fisherman and he opens its mouth.  He curses and tightens the string around its neck and pushes it back in.  When the second one pops up however, I can see a fishtail poking out of its mouth.  The fisherman snatches the fish from its grasps and pushes the bird bake in the water.     

They don't use nets or lines or rods or reels.  They use birds.  More specifically the cormorant bird.  Still in the traditional where they train the birds to swim under the water, catch a fish and return to the correct boat.  To prevent them swallowing the fish they tie a string around their necks preventing them from expanding their throat and eating it.  It might sound cruel but they employ the one in nine rule.  Every ninth fish they let the bird eat it and the birds seem perfectly happy.  All of the fisherman are very proud of their birds and when he saw I had a camera he insisted that I take a picture of him with his birds.  He was enthralled with my camera and kept asking if he needed to move anywhere to get a better shot so long as I continued to show him the pictures I took.  He would then give his critique with either a pat on the back or throwing his hands up in disgust.

The sun rises and we make our way back to the town.  Only the noise of our little engine echoing of the limestone cliffs to accompany us back.

Part 2

The Terraces

After one more day in the karst we head to the Longii rice terraces.  This was the number one thing I wanted to see on this trip around the world so I could not have been more excited.  The majority of our 3 hour drive to the terraces was uneventful.  Our driver is really into American hip-hop and he insisted I put my Ipod on and play songs for him the whole way.  But my joy suddenly stopped when we got to the pass.

Now coming from Jackson I thought I knew scary roads.  But the motorbike ride in Vietnam taught me I didn't know danger at all.  But sketchy mountain passes I do know right?  I've driven Teton Pass in a raging snow storm with visibility at 6 inches and semi trucks strewn all over the place.  I've flown up and down Curtis Canyon with no regard for falling off.  Surely a mountain pass in China can't be that bad.  Wrong.  The pass starts by shrinking down to about one and a half lanes wide.  And we start up.  Incredibly steep and narrow the road winds up the mountain.  But the higher we climb the worse it gets.  Huge drop offs start to appear and hairpin turns come out of nowhere.  Every single turn in the road is a blind one and you just pray no one is one the other side.  There is obviously no guard rail and the more we climb the worse the road condition gets.  Huge pot holes and frost heaves break the road up into small islands of asphalt.  Oh and did I mention that there are of course motorcycles flying everywhere with out a care in the world.  But our driver doesn't seem to care either.  He just continues to bob his head and mumble the words to 1970 Something by Notorious B.I.G.  Teton pass has nothing on this road and when we reach the top I had never been so happy to get out of a car.

From here it was about a three mile hike up to the top and along the ridge line to get to the town.  The town is built on the side of the mountain very near the peak.  As we round the corner all is revealed.  A small quiet town with tile roofs and and bamboo paneling.  All around it in every nook and every available spot there are the rice terraces.  Carved into the land long long ago to change the landscape into a real life topographical map.  Every spot is used by these stair step like formations and terraces where the rice is grown.  We arrive in a guest house with no power.  The power is shut off during the day because everyone is on the terraces.  My bed consists of a bamboo mat with a feather stuffed mattress on the top.  The town is built vertically so first floor is the ban, second is the kitchen and living area, third is the rooms and the streets consist of narrow stair ways leading up and down the terraces.  A man's wealth is measured by weather he has wooden flood gates, stone flood gates or metal ones.  The kids only go to school to the equivalent of fourth grade and then join their parents on the terraces.  Chickens are literally everywhere and everyone knows everyone.  

The beauty of this place is staggering and every morning I awoke I had to pinch myself to make sure I was actually there.  They did find a place flat enough for a basketball court where I got a game together.  Me being the tallest person in a 100 mile radius, I played center.  But make no mistake about it, this basketball court is their only source of entertainment and the guys I played with were more than decent, they were really good.  It was a crazy experience and I'd love to do it again.

  

China lived up to expectation and I can't wait to go back.  The country is huge and there is so much that I missed and didn't see.  From here my stereotypical euro-trip begins.  Back to western society.  I fly from Hong Kong to Rome and will do most of the rest via train.  The posts will come quicker as a jump from country to country in a hurry.  Plus I will actually have access to a computer unlike before.  I had no access to the outside world in China at all.  The firewall over their internet prevents the use of any website where you could potentially say something bad about the Chinese government.  No Facebook, no YouTube, and defiantly no blog written by some punk rebellious 19 year-old American delinquent.

The pictures you see are only about 1% of the amazing photos I have of this beautiful landscape.  A lot of them are similar so I spared you guys the boring droll of picture after picture of landscapes.  But do not fear, I took about 2000 pictures in a weeks time.  snap snap snap snap snap snap 

As always thank you for the wonderful support and kind words.  I love all you guys and will be home soon.       

                 

Vietnam

Jesus, Mother and Mary that one was close.  Another motorbike whizzes past at blistering speeds. 
Ahhhhh please get me out of here
"Mr. Alex!!!  Is like a riber!!" my guide shouts at me.
Right, right.  Like a river.  I get a hold of my nerves and rev the tiny engine on the motorbike.  I am currently on a motorbike tour of Ho Chi Minh City.  A nighttime tour.  Why I chose the night tour I may never know but there I was.  Attempting to ride a motorbike through what seems to be just a mass of chaos and death.  Oh and let us not forget that I have never driven a motorcyle or scooter or anyrthing close before this.  So needless to say the learning curve was very very steep. 
The rules of the road consist of one rule.
Just do what ever the hell you want.
There are no traffic lanes and if there are, do not listen to them.  Crosswalks and stop signs mean absolutely nothing at all.  Pedestrians become moving traffic cones and always be on the lookout for wandering dogs. 
We are going to do a trip around the city and eat at a local restaurant.  We begin the tour at the local opera house and I am immediately thrust into the fray.  So many bikes weaving in and out of each other, darting this way and that all in an effort to get where they need as fast as humanly possible.  But what's more is the fact that cars are almost not used at all in Vietnam.  So people use their motorbikes as a sedan.  Much to my surprise.  We arrive at our first crossroads.  As our guide edges into the flow of traffic and I follow and happen to glance to my left.

I'm sorry sir, but you seem to have forgotten that you are riding a motorbike...BECAUSE THERE IS A FREAKING DEAD COW LAYED OVER THE BACK OF YOUR BIKE 
The entire cows is held on by only one rope attached at the back while its head bounces and scrapes along the asphalt.
And you sir.  I realize there is some shed that may very well need that 12ft by 5ft piece of plywood.  But putting your buddy on the back and telling him to hold it upright isn't working.  You have just created a giant sail and I fear your friend can't hold on much longer.
All these things and more I bear witness to as we slowly make our way down the tight and jam packed streets of Saigon.  The neon signs advertising "massage" parlours are on every corner while people selling dog meat and various other fodds are all around.  An amazing sense of euporia washes over me and I can hep but laugh as we weae in and out of the bikes.  The smells and the signs all add together to create a beautiful bustling city scene that one can....

JESUS CHRIST DUDE YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!!!  YOU ARE LITTERALLY JUST DRIVING FULL SPEED DOWN THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD!! 
What on earth could give a man the confidence to do that I will never know. 
The tour was all in all an amazing expierence that I will remember for the rest of my life.  As we arrived at the resturant to eat we were presented with so many dishes to eat.  Local fish and fruit of all colors of the rainbow.  I also ate a scorpion and a tarantula because I was hell bent on at least trying everything on the table.  I will say the tarantula was indeed the nastiest thing I have ever eaten and how I forced it down I may never know.  It crunches in your mouth and explodes down the back of your throat all while you swear you can feel the hair on its legs in you throat.  We also had mystery dishes that one can only assume were indeed Fido, Skippy, Spark and all their merry friends. 

From there I also saw the Meekong Delta and learned traditional Folk songs.  Plus in the north I got to see Halong bay and its floating fishing village where some people spend their entire lives never setting foot on dry land. 

All in all Vietnam was everything I hoped it would be.  The war is evident everywhere but you can tell they are trying their best to move on from that time in their history and become a desired tourist destination.  I loved Vietnam and would not hessitate to go back.

My next stop is China where some georgous landscapes awiat my capturing

Thanks to all the readers and visitors I get.  Your feedback on Facebook makes me feel so loved.  Also shot out to my family hanging on every word of this blog.  I know you all are worried sick about me and I would like to thank you all for the love and support you are showing.  Also big ups to my Skype friends.  Whenever I Skype one of you it really does make my entire day so thank you.

Alright enough with the sappy love story, on with the goodies!

Singapore

I read the sign again.
The Last Train Will Leave At 11:10
I look at my watch.  11:30.
Sweet.
I walk to the nearest McDonalds buy a McFlurry and sit down to use the Wi-Fi.  (A handy tip)  I check to see how far the walk is going to be.  4 hours walk back.  Fantastic.  I stop a cab driver and see how much it would be to get a cab back.  He tells me $30 and I pass.  Singapore is safe enough right?  I'll just walk back.  I begin the walk back and that's just it.  No drama happened.  No crazy stories or anything.  I walked through Singapore in the dead of night by myself and nothing happened.  I stumbled upon a raging night market and was persuaded to get my Singapore style on by taking a shot of snake bile vodka.  Although it was disgusting I made friends from it.  Took some more pictures of night in Singapore and loved it.

It was however exactly what I needed.  After what happened in Jakarta I needed safety and calmness.  Singapore boasts that it is the city of the future and I couldn't agree more.  It is a $5000 fine if you are caught littering. A $500 fine if you eat food on their subway system.  All this might sound harsh but it works because everyone abides by it.  The city is spotless. Seriously you can eat off the streets.  And don't get me started on eating. 

The two past-times in Singapore are eating and shopping.  Traveling around the world on a budget does not leave room for shopping but it does mean eating.  They have what are called Horker Stalls.  Picture the food court at the mall.  Now put it outside and put plastic lawn chairs everywhere.  But the food there is outstanding.  From duck inards to the greatest dumplings you have ever had.  Sushi made extreamly fresh and some Indian veggie dish that was fantastic.  I have completely stopped questioning what I eat and it seems to be working just fine.  The most interesting thing I ate however had to be bone marrow soup.  Imagine the color red.  Pure red.  Now put that as the color of the soup.  Not tomato soup red.  Red.  You fish around the bowl till you come across a bone.  Nibble the meat off the end, break it in half, and suck the marrow out.  Sounds grusome but it was delicious.  If I want to feel like I'm really traveling then I need to immerse myself in the culture and eat what they eat. 

So while this stop was not the most interesting, it was exactly what I needed.  I stayed 8 days there and got my Vietnam visa.  Meaning my next stop will in fact be Vietnam.  One of the countries I am most excited for. 

Thanks all for the support and love, you don't know what it means to me.

Picture Time