A introductory day in Khartoum, eleven on the road with ten of those camel trekking, and three more decompressing in Khartoum - thus began 2011 and a good beginning it was. Full of varied sights and sounds including agonizing groans of protesting camels as they were packed up in the early AMs. Then there was finding a place to unroll the sleeping bag, somewhere between the camel leavings and the snake holes after cleaning away the rocks. And one morning, awakening to find a camel seated just in front of my nose. If it had been Sam, my cat, he would have fought to the death for inclusion in the sleeping bag.
This was an expedition I had wanted to take on for several years but it had been canceled as either not enough travelers signed up or was thought too dangerous. Subsequently, I did go on one of Michael Asher’s Moroccan treks and survived. But Morocco is not the Sudan with an itinerary rich in British military history - the trail of the failed Camel Relief operations for Gordon in the 1880s when the dervishes attacked Khartoum. In fact, Asher, an author and the last of the great desert explorers, wrote the definitive book about that “Ultimate Imperial Adventure”, Khartoum.
Five of us had traveled with Asher before while seven came from Kenya, including their trip organizer. Ages ranged from twenties to myself, one of four Seniors. We were Brits, Americans, Germans, Kenyans and a South Korean. Our backup? Thirteen camels, four camel men with their mounts and a cook: “participatory camping” as the tour books label it. Everyone pitched in with the Kenyans doing more than their share. Tents were available, but for me, the joy in this kind of travel requires sleeping in the open, counting stars as best I can, nearsighted as I am.
Khartoum was not impressive. A combination of the old and dusty with the new and incomplete. Someone (Bashir?) saw Khartoum as a potential Dubai (and we can carry that back to Dubai’s genesis, Las Vegas - and why would anyone want to copy that?) so there are bits and pieces of “Moderne” architecture, incongruent with itself and certainly, with the landscape of the country. For example, the old brick post office, left over from colonial days, could have been the basis of government. offices, at peace with the surroundings. The City Planner, if any, was not in touch with Frank Lloyd Wright’s precepts. There was not even a theme of Islamic styling which would have made sense for a Moslem state, guided by Sharia law. Anyway, the country didn’t have the money to finish the Dubai-inspired building spree. A work not in progress?
The two Niles, Blue and White, converge at Khartoum, which is a three part city. Khartoum proper where we stayed, the old City of Omdurman with its souk, the Mahdi’s tomb and the Khalifa’s House, and North Khartoum, a more industrialize area. Before starting off on the camels, there was time to tour the City with stops at several museums. I was most interested in seeing two of the existent gunboats remaining from the Sudan War with the Madhi. I did miss the Commonwealth War Cemetery - for some reason, I like the old burial grounds and am certainly glad I saw the British cemeteries at Gilgit and Kabul. Actually, I even enjoyed the day spent wandering around Arlington some years back.
The trek started at Metemma (near Shendi) and went through the Bayuda Desert to Kosti. From there we drove to the final camp site near the Old Meroe pyramids and the Lion Temple at Musawarat es Sufra. The terrain was mixed: sandy to scrub to shaley to rocky. The trek totaled some 287K of which I walked about half. The longest day was some 40K, coming into Jakdul Wells, an alcove of greenery in a very rocky land. Arrival was after dark and I had made the mistake of walking the last segment, figuring I’d trust myself trekking in, rather than the camel. Bad decision. I had no flashlight and was trailing far enough behind that I. lost sight of our group. A couple of shouts and the German veterinarian - who walked almost the entire trip - dropped back to give aid and comfort. Without his help, I might still be there.
Earlier we camped at Abu Klea, where the bloodiest battle of the Sudan War was fought. Nearby was a monument to the bravery the doomed soldiers. As I - or the camel - trudged along, I thought of those guys, over a hundred years ago, coming across this same land with hopes of saving their fellows from the enemy. Mike’s familiarity with the area and the history made it come alive for me. It is always the historical bit that catches my fancy - trekking in the footsteps of the past, as it were. And except for the first and last days, no signs of “civilization”.
There were some nomads herding goats, donkey riders passing by, camels grazing and car/truck tracks occasionally - but no vehicles. Water was gotten from local springs and wells. At one bleak spot, there was well used by the locals. For a price, a man and a young girl, with the aid of a donkey, would haul water up. They appeared to live nearby in a quite basic shelter. The meeting spot of the Bayuda. Wall Drug Store lives! (and E-mail me if you miss that allusion!)
The drill: a break every hour. I tried to alternate between walking and riding; certainly, I did better in the saddle than on the Moroccan trek. But often it was a toss up between bum butt and bum feet. Noon time gave us a ninety minute rest. Though nippy in the early AM it was quite warm in the afternoon . A couple of days there was a really significant wind chill factor. In fact, the first night, I was quite cold - it was the first and last night I changed into my nightshirt. From there on, it was sleep with clothes on. But on finding out this trip has been done in 100F weather, I realized how lucky we were.
For the most part, I manged with my camel - though we did not become close. Several of the women were devoted cameleers who identified with their mounts. But a early on, head-over-heels fall over the top when I thought to get off and he thought to get up, probably influenced our relationship: I didn't really trust him nor he, me! Neither of us were damaged though I had a sore pelvic bone from contact with the saddle horn.
The pyramids and the temples were impressive, though smaller than the Egyptian ones at Giza. The tops of the pyramids had been sheared off by an Italian treasure hunter circa 1834, There is a model showing how they would have appeared had not the Italian drifted by. We drove (for by now, we were in a minibus) on a non existent dirt road to the other artifacts: the Great Enclosure and the Lion Temple. And after a final camp lunch in a lovely shaded garden, we left for Khartoum. There was a coffee/chai stop at Ed Damer, a local market town, and a conversation with a friendly Nubian. Then back to the Acropole where the real world came to life as people sorted out their flights home.
But before leaving, there several hours with the Whirling Dervishes. A combination of county fair and religious ceremony, it was for the Sudanese. It was not a performance for tourists but was an expression of their religious belief. The grounds around the mosque were crowded with locals. The drumming was insistent and repetitious. In the early hours, would-be dervishes moved about, jumping and spinning. Later, the real pros appeared, dressed in green with red trim, circled by believers who undulated back and forth as they chanted to the drums’ rhythms. It all came to a halt with the evening Call to Prayer. I saw about a dozen Westerners and about the same number of photographers. It was a mind blowing experience, similar to some Ogalala Sioux ceremonies I’ve seen.
I had two days left after the rest had gone which I treasured. After two weeks as part of a group, I enjoyed being on my own. I wandered about, confirmed my fight, bought some scarves at a nearby souk and cleared off E-mails. The last day, the hotel proprietor arranged for me to go to Sabalooqa Falls, the Sixth and final Cataract of the Nile. A most tranquil place, I basically crashed for the half day there before heading back through the nearby small village, to town. And a 2:30 AM call for the ride to the Airport.
Khartoum was quiet during my time there, excepting some student activity in concert with the Egyptian protests. I heard some of this on the last day but saw nothing. The energy centered on the referendum occurring in the South, land of oil. The North had the refineries, built and run by Chinese, with no benefit to local workers - the Chinese brought their own. As we finished the trek, infrastructure set up for industrial use made its presence known. Cars, pickups and trailer trucks rumbled by. A sadness really, after the time of walking and riding in the isolated desert setting.
Impressions: The roads, even asphalted ones, were full of all sorts of travelers, ie: walkers, wheelchairs, donkey carts, three-wheelers, cars, pickups, buses, and trucks up to two trailers. A safe country: never felt ill at ease. People were very friendly and helpful. But you do not travel freely: there are numerous checkpoints where one’s authority to travel out of Khartoum is carefully examined.
Accommodations: When not wrapped in my sleeping bag, I stayed at the Acropole Hotel, an oldie but goodie. Marvelous place with a proprietor who was very solicitous of our well being. and a long time friend of Mike Asher. The hotel has atmosphere and good food. I have no reservations in recommending it. Full board was about $150/daily.
Food: The first question I always get from friends: what did you eat? At the hotel, ate regular food. Traveling, the camels carried our food. So much was concocted with canned this and that after the first few days of fresh fruits and vegetables. Often in the mornings, lovely pancakes with cheese or honey. Salads of one kind or another at noon. Pasta/beans at night. It took a creative genius to come up with some of the combinations. By trip’s end, the camels must have been relieved as they certainly had less to tote - no food, no riders!
Clothing: There seemed no requirement in Sudan the women be covered. though most local women were. Some men wore Western attire while others, the long, often white, gown and with a turban or pillbox hat. One of our camel men did the trek, wearing leather soled, shinny pseudo-alligator skin loafers while another was mostly barefoot.
Visas: That can get complicated. For the US, there appears to be a visa approval authorized in The Sudan, which is sent to Sudanese authorities in the US who have your passport and visa application. As I always do whenever it becomes too complex, I contact G3 in Washington DC to sort it out. I got the passport back with the visa shortly before I left.
The tour cost about $3000; air fare was $1500; tips were $200: extra time in Khartoum was $300 for he hotel and $200 for the trip to the Sixth Cataract. Care for Sam: $780.
Good trip and well worth the cost.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Five Ladies of a Certain Age - Traveling in Oman December 2010
Several years ago, I came to Oman, stayed in Muscat, toured to Nizwa and the Sands. Then and there, I decided to return and see more of the country, A to Z, Khasab to Salalah. A good share of what I’d knew about Oman came from military writings concerning the 1950s Jebels conflict between the Sultan and the Imam who was aided by Saudis, and the 1970s Dhofar War involving the Yemen communists and Omani rebels with the government aided by the British.
The current ruler, Sultan Qaboos, came into power during the Dhofar War; His positive policies made it possible for the government forces to win over the rebels and chase the Yemenis home, As a result, Oman appears the most stable and peaceful country in the Middle East. So. with the help of a former military man who had been stationed in Oman and a local travel agent I put together a three week tour. I then contacted a number of people I’d traveled with and found five volunteers, several of whom were virgins to the Middle East. By the time we left, one had dropped out due to illness, leaving a total of five women, ages ranging from sixty to eighty: swimmers, shoppers, sightseers, hikers - experienced travelers all! The Gang of Five!
We gathered in Dubai, then into Khasab on the Musandam Peninsula where we got a feel of the area with a drive into the mountains and a dhow cruise with swimming and dolphin watching - a beginning of the variety of landscapes that make up Oman. the people were also a variety - mix of Indian and Arab, the women covered and uncovered. But even the totally veiled ones moved with a degree of freedom and authority not always present in the Arab world.
We then drove through the Emirates to Muscat, Oman's capital. It was a comfortable ride on asphalted roads with time to get a feel of the local scenery, both man made and natural. We ended at a hotel on on the Corniche in the Muttrah district of Muscat, with a view of the harbour including the Sultan’s dhow. Oman was celebrating the Fortieth Year of his rule with a vengeance. Visitors were from all over the World, including Queen Elizabeth of England. The television was full of impressive ceremonies including bagpipers riding camels!
As for us, we did a sightseeing tour which included the Grand Mosque, which must be one of the most beautifully designed buildings in the world, and the old walled city. I managed to wrangle a return to the Armed Forces Museum, which I think does an excellent job of presenting Oman’s history over the centuries. Behind our hotel, there was another small charming museum, Bait Al Baranda, a restored home with exhibits about Omani culture in photos and handicraft.
Then to Sur noted for its boat building plus walks in a series of scenic wadis, before and after. Onto the fabled Wahiba Sands. Then came the old Forts, the Jebel Shams and Jebel Akhdar - where the 50s conflict occurred. We hiked along mountain paths into deserted villages which were balanced with stops at souks, produce and meat/fish markets.
Most interesting was the walk about Al-Hamra, one of the oldest mud-brick villages in Oman, very similar to Yemen villages. It is to be an UNESCO Heritage project. A local family keeps their home in the old style and as an interactive museum, making bread and serving coffee/tea in the old style.
For two nights, we were housed in established camps as we checked out the back country. Then as we headed south, it was basic camping on the beach for three nights, using facilities at the local hospitals and eating at nearby cafes. While we missed the flamingos, there was other wildlife around. The landscape’s variety continued from lush greenery to volcanic desert.
We ended in Salalah, the old capital and home of the Sultans and the frankincense trade of yore. Important to me was nearby Mirbat, where the Fort was the scene of one of the significant battles of the Dhofer War. We were taken by Bedu to Ubar, the Queen of Sheba’s reported lost city and the Rub’ al Khali (The Empty Quarter) where we camped - only for one night unfortunately. A magnificent experience: sleeping under the stars, endless sand dunes and perfect silence. For me, Mirbat, Ubar and Rub al Khali were the piéce de résistance of the journey.
The people were warm and friendly. While walking in the Old City, a uniformed guy presented me with a beautifully smelling rose; when cheering a parade in honor of the Sultan’s rule, one of the participants ran out to toss his scarf to me. We never had a untoward moment. In fact, on several occasions people wanted their photos taken with us.
The women, often fully or partially veiled, were responsive. Sometimes quite aggressive; other times more decorous. Women are as educated as the men and are active in government and business. There is nothing like a woman in black, fully veiled - face and gloves - cashiering at the grocery store. Others would have face exposed with colorful clothing. In Muscat, western dress was more evident.
Camels were all around, often free ranging along the highways. Three memorable sights: a camel couched in the back of a pickup - I have a photo of this; two camels loosely tied to a pickup, trotting behind their mechanized leader along the highway; a string of, say thirty camels, walking along in the Rub’ al Khali, with a pickup herding them.
Accommodations were good. When sleeping out, tents and sleeping bags were provided. Three of us slept outside under stars, enjoying the solar activity. The set camps were comfortable, one elaborately furnished Bedouin-style with rugs on floor, walls and ceilings. The hotels were most comfortable.
I think the Indians control the food industry in Oman. We consistently ate Indian, whether it was at some what beat up roadside cafe or a more elegant hotel dining room. It was all good, very good.
Ali, the guide for the trip’s central region was outstanding. He and the driver, went out of their way to insure that we understood Oman and its people and that we had a good experience. I’ve traveled a bit and rarely felt that I was in such capable care. We all voted him #1!
I managed to lose two out of three caps this time around. Lost the Clive Cussler NUMA cap early on and then the newly purchased Armed Forces Museum cap half way through. Ended up with a red Oman flagged cap.
And yes, I would return again!
The trip, all told, cost about what most companies charge for their much less extensive tours: $2829 which included about half the meals. Emirates airfare from San Francisco to Dubai: $1553.
The current ruler, Sultan Qaboos, came into power during the Dhofar War; His positive policies made it possible for the government forces to win over the rebels and chase the Yemenis home, As a result, Oman appears the most stable and peaceful country in the Middle East. So. with the help of a former military man who had been stationed in Oman and a local travel agent I put together a three week tour. I then contacted a number of people I’d traveled with and found five volunteers, several of whom were virgins to the Middle East. By the time we left, one had dropped out due to illness, leaving a total of five women, ages ranging from sixty to eighty: swimmers, shoppers, sightseers, hikers - experienced travelers all! The Gang of Five!
We gathered in Dubai, then into Khasab on the Musandam Peninsula where we got a feel of the area with a drive into the mountains and a dhow cruise with swimming and dolphin watching - a beginning of the variety of landscapes that make up Oman. the people were also a variety - mix of Indian and Arab, the women covered and uncovered. But even the totally veiled ones moved with a degree of freedom and authority not always present in the Arab world.
We then drove through the Emirates to Muscat, Oman's capital. It was a comfortable ride on asphalted roads with time to get a feel of the local scenery, both man made and natural. We ended at a hotel on on the Corniche in the Muttrah district of Muscat, with a view of the harbour including the Sultan’s dhow. Oman was celebrating the Fortieth Year of his rule with a vengeance. Visitors were from all over the World, including Queen Elizabeth of England. The television was full of impressive ceremonies including bagpipers riding camels!
As for us, we did a sightseeing tour which included the Grand Mosque, which must be one of the most beautifully designed buildings in the world, and the old walled city. I managed to wrangle a return to the Armed Forces Museum, which I think does an excellent job of presenting Oman’s history over the centuries. Behind our hotel, there was another small charming museum, Bait Al Baranda, a restored home with exhibits about Omani culture in photos and handicraft.
Then to Sur noted for its boat building plus walks in a series of scenic wadis, before and after. Onto the fabled Wahiba Sands. Then came the old Forts, the Jebel Shams and Jebel Akhdar - where the 50s conflict occurred. We hiked along mountain paths into deserted villages which were balanced with stops at souks, produce and meat/fish markets.
Most interesting was the walk about Al-Hamra, one of the oldest mud-brick villages in Oman, very similar to Yemen villages. It is to be an UNESCO Heritage project. A local family keeps their home in the old style and as an interactive museum, making bread and serving coffee/tea in the old style.
For two nights, we were housed in established camps as we checked out the back country. Then as we headed south, it was basic camping on the beach for three nights, using facilities at the local hospitals and eating at nearby cafes. While we missed the flamingos, there was other wildlife around. The landscape’s variety continued from lush greenery to volcanic desert.
We ended in Salalah, the old capital and home of the Sultans and the frankincense trade of yore. Important to me was nearby Mirbat, where the Fort was the scene of one of the significant battles of the Dhofer War. We were taken by Bedu to Ubar, the Queen of Sheba’s reported lost city and the Rub’ al Khali (The Empty Quarter) where we camped - only for one night unfortunately. A magnificent experience: sleeping under the stars, endless sand dunes and perfect silence. For me, Mirbat, Ubar and Rub al Khali were the piéce de résistance of the journey.
The people were warm and friendly. While walking in the Old City, a uniformed guy presented me with a beautifully smelling rose; when cheering a parade in honor of the Sultan’s rule, one of the participants ran out to toss his scarf to me. We never had a untoward moment. In fact, on several occasions people wanted their photos taken with us.
The women, often fully or partially veiled, were responsive. Sometimes quite aggressive; other times more decorous. Women are as educated as the men and are active in government and business. There is nothing like a woman in black, fully veiled - face and gloves - cashiering at the grocery store. Others would have face exposed with colorful clothing. In Muscat, western dress was more evident.
Camels were all around, often free ranging along the highways. Three memorable sights: a camel couched in the back of a pickup - I have a photo of this; two camels loosely tied to a pickup, trotting behind their mechanized leader along the highway; a string of, say thirty camels, walking along in the Rub’ al Khali, with a pickup herding them.
Accommodations were good. When sleeping out, tents and sleeping bags were provided. Three of us slept outside under stars, enjoying the solar activity. The set camps were comfortable, one elaborately furnished Bedouin-style with rugs on floor, walls and ceilings. The hotels were most comfortable.
I think the Indians control the food industry in Oman. We consistently ate Indian, whether it was at some what beat up roadside cafe or a more elegant hotel dining room. It was all good, very good.
Ali, the guide for the trip’s central region was outstanding. He and the driver, went out of their way to insure that we understood Oman and its people and that we had a good experience. I’ve traveled a bit and rarely felt that I was in such capable care. We all voted him #1!
I managed to lose two out of three caps this time around. Lost the Clive Cussler NUMA cap early on and then the newly purchased Armed Forces Museum cap half way through. Ended up with a red Oman flagged cap.
And yes, I would return again!
The trip, all told, cost about what most companies charge for their much less extensive tours: $2829 which included about half the meals. Emirates airfare from San Francisco to Dubai: $1553.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
GARP 2010 : 24 Oct-7 Nov
GARP 2010 : 24 Oct-7 Nov
Besides love of the desert, TE Lawrence and I have another thing in common - love of a soak in a hot bath. Though on this excursion, I settled for a hot shower. beating on my back.
This was my third time out with the Great Arab Revolt Project (and my fourth time in Jordan), the yearly trip to the Hejaz Railroad area where two weeks were spent digging for artifacts from the WW1 conflict between Arabs and Ottomans. The so-called TE Lawrence war. This year’s explorations occurred south of Ma’an in the Tel al-Shalm. area where I worked on tent rings, a gun emplacement and a structure of unknown usage. -- guesses ranged from a cookhouse to a brothel, the latter a not too serious suggestion. Not only were WW1 items found, but a probable Nabataen site was uncovered. My personal find was a Mauser 1916 cartridge and some bits and pieces of fabric. Much better than the first year when I was digging for mule pucky!
This year’s activity was enlivened by a day’s loan of a Royal Jordanian Air Force helicopter which was used for aerial surveys. Concurrently, the National Geographic filmed for several days - second time around for BBC filmed the first year I was with GARP. Apparently I was caught on camera, beavering away, for I was asked to sign a waiver. Check me out on the Discovery channel, if and when.
An exciting moment: a Jordanian solder came up to several of us, digging away at some sort of encampment, and asked to see my fellow excavator's book, TEL's Seven Pillars, as I recall. The solder thumbed through and then pointed out a bearded Bedouin: my grandfather, he grinned. "My grandfather" was Auda Abu Tayi, TEL's left hand during the Arab Revolt, assuming Prince Feisal was the right hand.
To add to the fun, our co-director was interviewed on Jordanian television one morning and both directors did a presentation at the local University. We stayed in Wadi Mousa, near Petra, where I went on one of our two days off. Been there before, but there are always new sights - I think it’s one of the most fantastic and awesome places on earth.
As always, the digging, scraping and sifting was time consuming and dusty. But had to be done. Possibilities had to ruled in or out. This year, more than others, a goodly share of us were attacked by a severe cold - several stayed back a day to recuperate. I conked out with a brief intestinal reaction one morning, but otherwise, was able to keep working.
Ten professionals directed sixteen volunteers,two of which were professional archaeologists and others were quite experienced, several having been with GARP since the beginning. Four Americans, a Swiss, a Belgian and a Jordanian were the foreigners in the bunch. The project is sponsored by the University of Bristol and the Jordanian Ministry of Antiquities. The last day, we a Turkish scholar joined us. As I’m sure I’ve commented before, this is a egalitarian bunch - I feel like f an extended family member.
The second day off, I went with others to Tafila- the site of the one significant Arab-Ottoman battle, an area that may be explored next year - and Karak - . which reminds me of Scotland’s Sterling Castle in that both totally dominate the landscape. And as with Petra there were busloads of tourists, completely inappropriately dressed for a Islamic country. For other than Amman and the tourist hotels, women in Jordan tend to dress conservatively - long coat and headscarf.
It was election time and I saw numerous candidates’ posters, all males, and the tented gathering places for campaign speeches in the several towns we passed driving from to the sites.
At the end of my tour, I headed home via British Airways and LHR - which meant a night in Terminal 1, the cache for all overnighters at the airport. There were about a dozen of us, including two non-too-sober Russian sailors, not terribly conversant in English who were totally confused by BA’s arrangements and decided I could be their leader.
Cost: SFO to LHR: $1000. GARP, inclusive of room and board plus airfare LHR-Amman: £2450. Well worth it and I will return!
NB: To see some fabulous photos and learn more about the dig, latch onto www.GARP-2010.blogspot.com where Roger Ward has done a terrific job putting the tour together.
Besides love of the desert, TE Lawrence and I have another thing in common - love of a soak in a hot bath. Though on this excursion, I settled for a hot shower. beating on my back.
This was my third time out with the Great Arab Revolt Project (and my fourth time in Jordan), the yearly trip to the Hejaz Railroad area where two weeks were spent digging for artifacts from the WW1 conflict between Arabs and Ottomans. The so-called TE Lawrence war. This year’s explorations occurred south of Ma’an in the Tel al-Shalm. area where I worked on tent rings, a gun emplacement and a structure of unknown usage. -- guesses ranged from a cookhouse to a brothel, the latter a not too serious suggestion. Not only were WW1 items found, but a probable Nabataen site was uncovered. My personal find was a Mauser 1916 cartridge and some bits and pieces of fabric. Much better than the first year when I was digging for mule pucky!
This year’s activity was enlivened by a day’s loan of a Royal Jordanian Air Force helicopter which was used for aerial surveys. Concurrently, the National Geographic filmed for several days - second time around for BBC filmed the first year I was with GARP. Apparently I was caught on camera, beavering away, for I was asked to sign a waiver. Check me out on the Discovery channel, if and when.
An exciting moment: a Jordanian solder came up to several of us, digging away at some sort of encampment, and asked to see my fellow excavator's book, TEL's Seven Pillars, as I recall. The solder thumbed through and then pointed out a bearded Bedouin: my grandfather, he grinned. "My grandfather" was Auda Abu Tayi, TEL's left hand during the Arab Revolt, assuming Prince Feisal was the right hand.
To add to the fun, our co-director was interviewed on Jordanian television one morning and both directors did a presentation at the local University. We stayed in Wadi Mousa, near Petra, where I went on one of our two days off. Been there before, but there are always new sights - I think it’s one of the most fantastic and awesome places on earth.
As always, the digging, scraping and sifting was time consuming and dusty. But had to be done. Possibilities had to ruled in or out. This year, more than others, a goodly share of us were attacked by a severe cold - several stayed back a day to recuperate. I conked out with a brief intestinal reaction one morning, but otherwise, was able to keep working.
Ten professionals directed sixteen volunteers,two of which were professional archaeologists and others were quite experienced, several having been with GARP since the beginning. Four Americans, a Swiss, a Belgian and a Jordanian were the foreigners in the bunch. The project is sponsored by the University of Bristol and the Jordanian Ministry of Antiquities. The last day, we a Turkish scholar joined us. As I’m sure I’ve commented before, this is a egalitarian bunch - I feel like f an extended family member.
The second day off, I went with others to Tafila- the site of the one significant Arab-Ottoman battle, an area that may be explored next year - and Karak - . which reminds me of Scotland’s Sterling Castle in that both totally dominate the landscape. And as with Petra there were busloads of tourists, completely inappropriately dressed for a Islamic country. For other than Amman and the tourist hotels, women in Jordan tend to dress conservatively - long coat and headscarf.
It was election time and I saw numerous candidates’ posters, all males, and the tented gathering places for campaign speeches in the several towns we passed driving from to the sites.
At the end of my tour, I headed home via British Airways and LHR - which meant a night in Terminal 1, the cache for all overnighters at the airport. There were about a dozen of us, including two non-too-sober Russian sailors, not terribly conversant in English who were totally confused by BA’s arrangements and decided I could be their leader.
Cost: SFO to LHR: $1000. GARP, inclusive of room and board plus airfare LHR-Amman: £2450. Well worth it and I will return!
NB: To see some fabulous photos and learn more about the dig, latch onto www.GARP-2010.blogspot.com where Roger Ward has done a terrific job putting the tour together.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Buchercon 2010 or Travels to SF
This has been the year I’ve attended writers’ conferences: In March it was the Colby Military Writers and now, in October, the Bouchercon Mystery Writers. The first in Vermont and the second in San Francisco.
The Bouchercon began in l970 and is named for a SF Chronicle book critic and author, Anthony Boucher, active in the mid-forties. The organization awards new writers and recognizes those who have been around a bit. But it isn’t just writers who show up: agents, publishers, vendors, editors, librarians, would-be writers and people like me - readers. There were 1350 attendees signed on for the full four days with an average of eighty coming in for a day’s session, per the event’s organizer.
I’m familiar with the writings of probably two or three dozen crime/mystery/ adventure authors, particularly over the past twenty five years of serious travel. As I’m not a TV/film watcher aboard flights, I’ve managed to read my way to and fro where ever. Which means I’ve picked up paperbacks, allowing me into virtual reality - figuring out the good and the bad guys - in LA or Edinburgh or London or Amman, rather than the harsh reality of sausaged into some airline’s economy seat.
I’ve always been a mystery reader starting with Conan Doyle, Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie and PD James. I trained, in time gone by, as a journalist . I vividly remember sitting nights in The Shack, a quonset hut, housing The Emerald, the University of Oregon’s student newspaper, reaching for the inspiration to type out a decent short story for a creative writing class. Nada! Though I did get through the class, I realized I should stick to the facts, just the facts.
So in another life, I wrote reports about offenders and offenses for Judges and prison staff to read and use in their decisions about the care and feeding of various violators, from minor to major. In many ways, writing was the fun part of the job fro me,where it was a tedious bore for most of the others. Which is why I do a blog. Which is why I was delighted to spend time at a writers conference. To see and hear people who are able to create fascinating characters in challenging landscapes.
The conference was at the Hyatt Regency, a massive building, very modern with hanging light, an atrium and many meeting spaces. There were at least sixty panel discussions about various bits and pieces involved in the craft of writing: there were some seven interviews of authors by other authors; ongoing conversations with authors along with the milling about and socializing that comes with such a gathering.
I happily sat in on five of the interviews, three with authors whose work I do enjoy - David Baldaccio, Michael Connelly and Lee Child. The fourth was with a couple of Scots women who were really a kick: Val Dermid and Denise Mars. And one was with Bill Link, a TV series man, creator of Columbo among others.
Other than a Dashiell Hammett Walk around downtown San Francisco, the rest of my time was spent in the panels, which covered about everything one could imagine. Panelists ranged from totally unknown (though published) writers to top drawer authors. To me, E J Ellroy stood out - a Brit, very clear and confident about his writing.
Another panelist whose work I like was James Rollins of the Delta Force series, a ex- Sacramento veterinarian, who lived up to expectation. I really enjoyed a discussion involving US and UK cop authors - listening to them talk about the differences between US and UK policing was fun for me.
One panel with Bret Battles - I had just finished his latest - and Walter Mosley, whose now deceased detective character was named Easy Rawlins (Mosley says the name was made up!) was part of a discussion of East Coast, really New York, and West Coast, really LA, influences.
There were two other panels I attended: one about San Francisco Noir and another a theatrical effort from a SF based work. I was intrigued with a local author,Eddie Muller, a very articulate and enthusiastic guy, who I hadn’t heard of and whose works I will look up. I may be alone in my ignorance for there was an hour interview with him and is a page long appreciation of him the event’s program.
It was interesting to see how many authors had morphed from lawyer, journalist and cop into a writing career. Once successful, few stayed with their day job but moved onto full time author-hood, as it were. I couldn't help but remember what Khaled Hosseini, who has moved on from his day job as a physician, said: Medicine was the girl I liked and respected , but writing was the love of my life.
There were several dozen vendors about. Books, t-shirts, bags, jewelry!. Even a table with L. Ron Hubbard’s old science fiction stuff for sale. II did not succumb.
There were evening activities: an awards ceremony and reception, Lee Child hosted a Reacher’s Creatures event that really tempted me, a go-go party - I missed them all, racing to catch my bus/train back to Menlo Park. I commuted up, catching my transport at 7AM and trying to get home by 8 PM. Long days. I also missed the final morning’s events which included the Anthony awards.
But all in all, I got my money’s worth: a couple of hundred for the conference and fifty for transportation and meals - I picked up sandwiches from Starbucks across the street. and caged bites from the Hospitality Room, including a welcomed Hagen daz bar one afternoon.
The Bouchercon began in l970 and is named for a SF Chronicle book critic and author, Anthony Boucher, active in the mid-forties. The organization awards new writers and recognizes those who have been around a bit. But it isn’t just writers who show up: agents, publishers, vendors, editors, librarians, would-be writers and people like me - readers. There were 1350 attendees signed on for the full four days with an average of eighty coming in for a day’s session, per the event’s organizer.
I’m familiar with the writings of probably two or three dozen crime/mystery/ adventure authors, particularly over the past twenty five years of serious travel. As I’m not a TV/film watcher aboard flights, I’ve managed to read my way to and fro where ever. Which means I’ve picked up paperbacks, allowing me into virtual reality - figuring out the good and the bad guys - in LA or Edinburgh or London or Amman, rather than the harsh reality of sausaged into some airline’s economy seat.
I’ve always been a mystery reader starting with Conan Doyle, Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie and PD James. I trained, in time gone by, as a journalist . I vividly remember sitting nights in The Shack, a quonset hut, housing The Emerald, the University of Oregon’s student newspaper, reaching for the inspiration to type out a decent short story for a creative writing class. Nada! Though I did get through the class, I realized I should stick to the facts, just the facts.
So in another life, I wrote reports about offenders and offenses for Judges and prison staff to read and use in their decisions about the care and feeding of various violators, from minor to major. In many ways, writing was the fun part of the job fro me,where it was a tedious bore for most of the others. Which is why I do a blog. Which is why I was delighted to spend time at a writers conference. To see and hear people who are able to create fascinating characters in challenging landscapes.
The conference was at the Hyatt Regency, a massive building, very modern with hanging light, an atrium and many meeting spaces. There were at least sixty panel discussions about various bits and pieces involved in the craft of writing: there were some seven interviews of authors by other authors; ongoing conversations with authors along with the milling about and socializing that comes with such a gathering.
I happily sat in on five of the interviews, three with authors whose work I do enjoy - David Baldaccio, Michael Connelly and Lee Child. The fourth was with a couple of Scots women who were really a kick: Val Dermid and Denise Mars. And one was with Bill Link, a TV series man, creator of Columbo among others.
Other than a Dashiell Hammett Walk around downtown San Francisco, the rest of my time was spent in the panels, which covered about everything one could imagine. Panelists ranged from totally unknown (though published) writers to top drawer authors. To me, E J Ellroy stood out - a Brit, very clear and confident about his writing.
Another panelist whose work I like was James Rollins of the Delta Force series, a ex- Sacramento veterinarian, who lived up to expectation. I really enjoyed a discussion involving US and UK cop authors - listening to them talk about the differences between US and UK policing was fun for me.
One panel with Bret Battles - I had just finished his latest - and Walter Mosley, whose now deceased detective character was named Easy Rawlins (Mosley says the name was made up!) was part of a discussion of East Coast, really New York, and West Coast, really LA, influences.
There were two other panels I attended: one about San Francisco Noir and another a theatrical effort from a SF based work. I was intrigued with a local author,Eddie Muller, a very articulate and enthusiastic guy, who I hadn’t heard of and whose works I will look up. I may be alone in my ignorance for there was an hour interview with him and is a page long appreciation of him the event’s program.
It was interesting to see how many authors had morphed from lawyer, journalist and cop into a writing career. Once successful, few stayed with their day job but moved onto full time author-hood, as it were. I couldn't help but remember what Khaled Hosseini, who has moved on from his day job as a physician, said: Medicine was the girl I liked and respected , but writing was the love of my life.
There were several dozen vendors about. Books, t-shirts, bags, jewelry!. Even a table with L. Ron Hubbard’s old science fiction stuff for sale. II did not succumb.
There were evening activities: an awards ceremony and reception, Lee Child hosted a Reacher’s Creatures event that really tempted me, a go-go party - I missed them all, racing to catch my bus/train back to Menlo Park. I commuted up, catching my transport at 7AM and trying to get home by 8 PM. Long days. I also missed the final morning’s events which included the Anthony awards.
But all in all, I got my money’s worth: a couple of hundred for the conference and fifty for transportation and meals - I picked up sandwiches from Starbucks across the street. and caged bites from the Hospitality Room, including a welcomed Hagen daz bar one afternoon.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
September 2010: Eight Days in North Korea aka DPRK
Eight Days in North Korea aka DPRK
There is a story, probably apocryphal, that the original Axis of Evil was Iraq, Iran and Syria. When it was pointed out that all were Moslem, the Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea aka North Korea, was substituted for Syria. So it was to North Korea that I went in September 2010, traveling with Global Exchange/Realty tours. I had gone with them before: to Kabul and to Palestine/Israel and liked their approach, more educational than most.
There were eight of us in the group, plus the South Korea tour manager. Three were PhDs, one a Fullbright scholar, another a soon-to-be medical student, a ex-Navy guy, a would-be priest, our Italian Global Exchange representative and me, a retired civil servant. Ages ranged from mid-twenties to mid-eighties. Good group though the ex-Navy guy had health issues.
The Juche Idea is DPRK’s guiding philosophy, teaching that “man is the master of everything and decides everything”. This was first articulated by Kim Il-sung in 1955 and is what distinguishes the Korean approach from that of the Soviet Union and Mao’s China. Kim Il-sung is the first and Eternal President, despite his death in 1994. His son and successor, Kim Jong-il, is listed as the Supreme Leader, Chairman of the Presidium and Chairman of the National Defense commission. It is his third son who is soon to be designated heir.
And there is a Kim cult. Portraits of the Eternal Leader are in the foyers of all the buildings I entered, the guides began all their explanations with praises of Kim 1 and 2, people bow before a facsimile of Kim 1 - occasionally Kim 2 is part of the picture but always, Kim 1. Bookstores had a plethora of Kim-written books; almost impossible to find much else.
We had two nights in Pyongyang, a night in Kaesang and the DMZ, returned to Pyongyang for two nights and then a night at Wonsan and back to Pyongyang for the final two nights. The Yanggakdo hotel was some 40+ floors with a revolving restaurant on top - quite classy. You could see the new, even taller, hotel that was being built, a triangular shaped structure. It seemed North Korea was expecting/encouraging visitors. There were other tourists: Germans, Austrians, Canadians, Malaysians, Americans, all with guides. I talked with a Canadian who was part of a group of American teachers who came yearly to consult and advise on educational matters.
But visitors were segregated from the average Korean. We had a tour guide and two assistants. Our guide had studied and traveled in Europe worked for an international organization in North Korea before becoming a guide some four years ago. He was very good. His assistants were pleasant, less facile in English, and filmed us throughout the tour.
We. and the other visitors, not only ate apart from the local people - two dining rooms in the hotel - and were forbidden from taking photos of people. Certainly we could not wander abut on our own - our passports were taken from us upon arrival and returned only as we left the country. As we were ending our trip, an international film festival had begun which meant the hotel was well occupied. I saw two men, probably Eastern Europeans from their accents, waiting around for a minder so they could go on a morning run.
Driving about Pyongyang, I saw lots of statues and monuments but few people walking about. I did see individuals, mainly women, cleaning and clipping for the forthcoming October 10 celebration. Grass clipping was done with both sheers and scissors. And buses and subway were jam packed. We did ride the subway, in a car with only one other passenger, who seemed a bit bemused by us foreigners and quickly ran out at the first opportunity. The North Koreans live in rent-free assigned high rise apartments. Everyone I saw, in and out of the City, seemed reasonably well fed.
Sunday morning was spent at the Bongsu Christian Church where a very professional choir performed. A visiting minister from the US received much applause when she mentioned reunification. The resident minister’s sermon was more about ethics than religion. The members were primarily female and quite well dressed, as opposed to us in our tourist grubs.
In Pyongyang, we visited two hospitals: one was the Maternity Hospital and the other, the Academy of Koryo Medical Science. Equipment in the maternity hospital seemed modern enough. We were told medical care was available to all. The mothers and babies seemed well cared for but quiet; no babies crying. The Academy works with alternate medical care; I was shown acupuncture, accupressive and cupping techniques.
Along with various statues and monuments, we were visited the alleged native house of Kim Il-sung, the Kim Il-sung University, the library (Grand People’s Study House), and the Liberation Museum (which had a lot of captured US equipment from the Korean War US/War of Liberation(DPRK). I didn’t see a lot of students at the University except at the new Aquatic Center. The library seemed well used; I walked by an active English class among others. Both facilities have records extensively computerized (though no Internet available to us!).
A biggie was the visit to the captured US spy ship, Pueblo, where a video was screened, presenting the DPRK point of view. Not a high point of US Foreign policy.
We stopped by several art galleries and a embroidery studio. The embroidery work was exquisite. I watched the workers taking small stitches on thin silk material that would eventually be a figure or a scene. Very Impressive.
The Mangyondae Student and Children’s Palace had an active after school arts program in Western and Korean music and dance. They put on one of the three performances we saw and it was very professional. From drumming to dance to violin solos. The other performances were the Mass Gymnastic and Art Performance Arirang which was a combination of the Olympic opening ceremonies and Cirque du Soliel with a touch of the Edinburgh Tattoo. The third was the Circus where the performers were, I was told, all Army people, even the daring trapeze artists.
A cooperative farm was on the itinerary. Along the highway, there and elsewhere, corn and peppers were set out to dry. At the farm, I observed dried corn being loaded into new sacks with the US flag printed on them. Also, we were invited into a local home, they called it two room but I thought it three (Kitchen, living room and bedroom areas) with refrigerator, washer and dryer. However, facilities are VIPL: very improved pit latrine.
There were two trips out of town: one to Kaesung and the DMZ where the Armistice was signed. The Sinchon Museum,a pean to the atrocities of Americans, was on the agenda. Another video presented with the DPRK point of view. Overnight was at the Kaesung Korean Inn, where sleeping mats with mesquito nets substituted for beds; it was immaculate with TV and modern plumbing. Meals were served on low tables with consumers seated on the floor - hard for some of our crew.
The second out of town trip was to Wonsan. Enroute we stopped by the King Tongmyong Mausoleum, a magnificent spectacle, and the Children's International Camp, where kids spend several weeks in a natural setting (a light weight Adventure-bound?). Overnight, we were on the coast of the Sea of Japan where several of the guys swam - I settled for barefoot walking along the private Foreigners’ beach. The hotel was quite comfortable though not many were staying there.
A day trip was to Mt Myohyang, a tourist attraction, reportedly crowded year round with people, wildlife and hiking trails. There is the International Friendship House, a 200 room marble building with a Korean tiled roof full of gifts sent over the years to the two Kims; nearby is the 50 room annex. It’s as if all the Presidents’ gifts over the years were housed in one rather than the many Presidential libraries across the US. Also in this lovely mountain area was one of the two Buddhist temples we visited, all lovingly restored.
The tour ended with a stop at a souvenir shop, some karaoke after dinner and we were done!
And the good news was I made a tight connection in Beijing so, having left Pyongyang Saturday @ 9AM, I arrived in SFO @ 8 AM Saturday and was in the house, greeted by Sam, the cat, @ 10AM.
The bad news was the computer crashed and I had to put in a new hard drive. .
Impression: This continues to be a closed society, wedded to its philosophical base, the Juche Idea. (I found an excellent discussion of it on Wikipedia.) But there is a tourist infrastructure which seems t indicate the North Koreans are interested in contact with the rest of the world. It may be they want to show off what they have, which they feel is unique to them with little input from the outside. I don’t know.
But people seemed friendly though most of my contact was with the apartatchiks. Our South Korean companion said you could question anything but Kim Il-sung and the Juche Idea. Reunification is a goal but the United States is seen as standing in the way - we are the boogieman, a convenient scape goat. Our guide said he thought perhaps the military and the foreign services could combine in his lifetime but it would be his son’s lifetime before any reunification.
The tour cost $2750 inclusive meals and Beijing-Pyongyang air fare. SFO-Bejing via United was $1184.90.
There is a story, probably apocryphal, that the original Axis of Evil was Iraq, Iran and Syria. When it was pointed out that all were Moslem, the Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea aka North Korea, was substituted for Syria. So it was to North Korea that I went in September 2010, traveling with Global Exchange/Realty tours. I had gone with them before: to Kabul and to Palestine/Israel and liked their approach, more educational than most.
There were eight of us in the group, plus the South Korea tour manager. Three were PhDs, one a Fullbright scholar, another a soon-to-be medical student, a ex-Navy guy, a would-be priest, our Italian Global Exchange representative and me, a retired civil servant. Ages ranged from mid-twenties to mid-eighties. Good group though the ex-Navy guy had health issues.
The Juche Idea is DPRK’s guiding philosophy, teaching that “man is the master of everything and decides everything”. This was first articulated by Kim Il-sung in 1955 and is what distinguishes the Korean approach from that of the Soviet Union and Mao’s China. Kim Il-sung is the first and Eternal President, despite his death in 1994. His son and successor, Kim Jong-il, is listed as the Supreme Leader, Chairman of the Presidium and Chairman of the National Defense commission. It is his third son who is soon to be designated heir.
And there is a Kim cult. Portraits of the Eternal Leader are in the foyers of all the buildings I entered, the guides began all their explanations with praises of Kim 1 and 2, people bow before a facsimile of Kim 1 - occasionally Kim 2 is part of the picture but always, Kim 1. Bookstores had a plethora of Kim-written books; almost impossible to find much else.
We had two nights in Pyongyang, a night in Kaesang and the DMZ, returned to Pyongyang for two nights and then a night at Wonsan and back to Pyongyang for the final two nights. The Yanggakdo hotel was some 40+ floors with a revolving restaurant on top - quite classy. You could see the new, even taller, hotel that was being built, a triangular shaped structure. It seemed North Korea was expecting/encouraging visitors. There were other tourists: Germans, Austrians, Canadians, Malaysians, Americans, all with guides. I talked with a Canadian who was part of a group of American teachers who came yearly to consult and advise on educational matters.
But visitors were segregated from the average Korean. We had a tour guide and two assistants. Our guide had studied and traveled in Europe worked for an international organization in North Korea before becoming a guide some four years ago. He was very good. His assistants were pleasant, less facile in English, and filmed us throughout the tour.
We. and the other visitors, not only ate apart from the local people - two dining rooms in the hotel - and were forbidden from taking photos of people. Certainly we could not wander abut on our own - our passports were taken from us upon arrival and returned only as we left the country. As we were ending our trip, an international film festival had begun which meant the hotel was well occupied. I saw two men, probably Eastern Europeans from their accents, waiting around for a minder so they could go on a morning run.
Driving about Pyongyang, I saw lots of statues and monuments but few people walking about. I did see individuals, mainly women, cleaning and clipping for the forthcoming October 10 celebration. Grass clipping was done with both sheers and scissors. And buses and subway were jam packed. We did ride the subway, in a car with only one other passenger, who seemed a bit bemused by us foreigners and quickly ran out at the first opportunity. The North Koreans live in rent-free assigned high rise apartments. Everyone I saw, in and out of the City, seemed reasonably well fed.
Sunday morning was spent at the Bongsu Christian Church where a very professional choir performed. A visiting minister from the US received much applause when she mentioned reunification. The resident minister’s sermon was more about ethics than religion. The members were primarily female and quite well dressed, as opposed to us in our tourist grubs.
In Pyongyang, we visited two hospitals: one was the Maternity Hospital and the other, the Academy of Koryo Medical Science. Equipment in the maternity hospital seemed modern enough. We were told medical care was available to all. The mothers and babies seemed well cared for but quiet; no babies crying. The Academy works with alternate medical care; I was shown acupuncture, accupressive and cupping techniques.
Along with various statues and monuments, we were visited the alleged native house of Kim Il-sung, the Kim Il-sung University, the library (Grand People’s Study House), and the Liberation Museum (which had a lot of captured US equipment from the Korean War US/War of Liberation(DPRK). I didn’t see a lot of students at the University except at the new Aquatic Center. The library seemed well used; I walked by an active English class among others. Both facilities have records extensively computerized (though no Internet available to us!).
A biggie was the visit to the captured US spy ship, Pueblo, where a video was screened, presenting the DPRK point of view. Not a high point of US Foreign policy.
We stopped by several art galleries and a embroidery studio. The embroidery work was exquisite. I watched the workers taking small stitches on thin silk material that would eventually be a figure or a scene. Very Impressive.
The Mangyondae Student and Children’s Palace had an active after school arts program in Western and Korean music and dance. They put on one of the three performances we saw and it was very professional. From drumming to dance to violin solos. The other performances were the Mass Gymnastic and Art Performance Arirang which was a combination of the Olympic opening ceremonies and Cirque du Soliel with a touch of the Edinburgh Tattoo. The third was the Circus where the performers were, I was told, all Army people, even the daring trapeze artists.
A cooperative farm was on the itinerary. Along the highway, there and elsewhere, corn and peppers were set out to dry. At the farm, I observed dried corn being loaded into new sacks with the US flag printed on them. Also, we were invited into a local home, they called it two room but I thought it three (Kitchen, living room and bedroom areas) with refrigerator, washer and dryer. However, facilities are VIPL: very improved pit latrine.
There were two trips out of town: one to Kaesung and the DMZ where the Armistice was signed. The Sinchon Museum,a pean to the atrocities of Americans, was on the agenda. Another video presented with the DPRK point of view. Overnight was at the Kaesung Korean Inn, where sleeping mats with mesquito nets substituted for beds; it was immaculate with TV and modern plumbing. Meals were served on low tables with consumers seated on the floor - hard for some of our crew.
The second out of town trip was to Wonsan. Enroute we stopped by the King Tongmyong Mausoleum, a magnificent spectacle, and the Children's International Camp, where kids spend several weeks in a natural setting (a light weight Adventure-bound?). Overnight, we were on the coast of the Sea of Japan where several of the guys swam - I settled for barefoot walking along the private Foreigners’ beach. The hotel was quite comfortable though not many were staying there.
A day trip was to Mt Myohyang, a tourist attraction, reportedly crowded year round with people, wildlife and hiking trails. There is the International Friendship House, a 200 room marble building with a Korean tiled roof full of gifts sent over the years to the two Kims; nearby is the 50 room annex. It’s as if all the Presidents’ gifts over the years were housed in one rather than the many Presidential libraries across the US. Also in this lovely mountain area was one of the two Buddhist temples we visited, all lovingly restored.
The tour ended with a stop at a souvenir shop, some karaoke after dinner and we were done!
And the good news was I made a tight connection in Beijing so, having left Pyongyang Saturday @ 9AM, I arrived in SFO @ 8 AM Saturday and was in the house, greeted by Sam, the cat, @ 10AM.
The bad news was the computer crashed and I had to put in a new hard drive. .
Impression: This continues to be a closed society, wedded to its philosophical base, the Juche Idea. (I found an excellent discussion of it on Wikipedia.) But there is a tourist infrastructure which seems t indicate the North Koreans are interested in contact with the rest of the world. It may be they want to show off what they have, which they feel is unique to them with little input from the outside. I don’t know.
But people seemed friendly though most of my contact was with the apartatchiks. Our South Korean companion said you could question anything but Kim Il-sung and the Juche Idea. Reunification is a goal but the United States is seen as standing in the way - we are the boogieman, a convenient scape goat. Our guide said he thought perhaps the military and the foreign services could combine in his lifetime but it would be his son’s lifetime before any reunification.
The tour cost $2750 inclusive meals and Beijing-Pyongyang air fare. SFO-Bejing via United was $1184.90.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Ladakh - Two weeks later!
This morning's SF Chronicle headline: Deluge in desert engulfs tourist spot, killing 112.
A cloudburst followed by flash flood hit a Himalayan desert region in Indian-controlled Kashmir, sending rivers of mud down mountainsides and killing at least 12 people, officials said today.
Nearly 2000 foreign tourist were in the remote area of Ladakh, a popular destination for adventure sports enthusiasts, when the calamity struck, . . . there were no immediate reports of any foreigners being killed or injured in the floods that started early Friday. . . . At least 400 people were injured, as gushing waters swept away housing, cars and buses in a 60-square-mile swath in and around Leh, the main town in Ladakh.
The airport in Leh was hit, most communications were cut and Leh's state-run civil hospital was damaged as torrents of water flooded large parts of the town. . . . Ladakh, about 260 miles east of Srinagar . . . is a high altitude desert, with a stark moonscape-like terrain, about 11,500 feet above sea level.
The main highway linking Leh to the nearby holiday resort of Manali was blocked by landslides. The only other highway linking Ladakh was partially open and vericles waiting to cross had backed up for miles. Poor weather has made it impossible for even helicopters to fly into Ladakh with relief supplies.
A cloudburst followed by flash flood hit a Himalayan desert region in Indian-controlled Kashmir, sending rivers of mud down mountainsides and killing at least 12 people, officials said today.
Nearly 2000 foreign tourist were in the remote area of Ladakh, a popular destination for adventure sports enthusiasts, when the calamity struck, . . . there were no immediate reports of any foreigners being killed or injured in the floods that started early Friday. . . . At least 400 people were injured, as gushing waters swept away housing, cars and buses in a 60-square-mile swath in and around Leh, the main town in Ladakh.
The airport in Leh was hit, most communications were cut and Leh's state-run civil hospital was damaged as torrents of water flooded large parts of the town. . . . Ladakh, about 260 miles east of Srinagar . . . is a high altitude desert, with a stark moonscape-like terrain, about 11,500 feet above sea level.
The main highway linking Leh to the nearby holiday resort of Manali was blocked by landslides. The only other highway linking Ladakh was partially open and vericles waiting to cross had backed up for miles. Poor weather has made it impossible for even helicopters to fly into Ladakh with relief supplies.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Leh to Manali Plus - July 2010
Lee Child's protagonist, Jack Reacher, is an interesting guy: ex-Army, travels around the US with only a toothbrush, an ATM card and an expired passport. I haven’t quite achieved that: ex-civil service, I travel around the world with a carry-on sized backpack, an ATM card and a valid passport. It is a goal,though, to be as unencumbered as the fictional Reacher. But it was with my normal bits and pieces that I returned to India, my fourth trip and again in the north - I must get to the South one of these days.
This trip was with Explore, one of several small British budget tour groups, booked through Adventure Center. I’ve traveled with them before and never been disappointed. Labeled Little Tibet, the tour began in Ladakh; then Leh to Manali, on to Dharmasala and Armritsar with individual time in Delhi at the beginning and end. I did have a bit of difficulty signing on as Explore isn’t enthused about the solo Senior traveler, aged eighty or over. But with the help of my Adventure Center agent and assurances I could deal with the altitude and long drives on essentially unimproved roadways full of melting snow runoff and falling rocks, I was squeezed in. Actually, I more than held my own, only huffing and puffing when it came to step climbing up to several temples and monasteries. And I would have huffed and puffed on those steps ten, twenty years ago. And I was one of the four who didn’t have intestinal problems. .
The group of sixteen included seven Seniors, one couple, one Scot with ukulele, an Irishman, several Malaysians now Brits, a Canadian, four guys, the Brits and me, the lone American. Most were well traveled - good companions, all! The four single women rotated roommates so we became well acquainted.
I got into Delhi early and caught up on sleep, missed on the two night flight from San Francisco. When the rest arrived, there was the tour of New and Old Delhi - Old Delhi via pedal rickshaw. This was probably my third tour of the City; the sights, sounds, smells and colors of Delhi continue to fascinate me. I could park myself at a curb and just stay there indefinitely, losing myself in the entire scene,
Then we took off to Leh, a hill town, starting point for various tours and treks, There was combinations of Westerners, local Indians and Tibetan refugees. Throughout, there was a large Army and Air Force contingent for The Great Game lives on in this part of India bordered with China and Pakistan. And if Americans are concerned with AlQueda, the Indians and Pakistanis have played their game since Partition, particularly with nearby Kashmir claimed by both sides.
The time in Leh was spent at several monasteries and gompas, including Seville hours at a Buddhist Festival, the performance reminiscent of a similar event I attended in Bhutan several years ago. Here however, we were able to be up close and personal. The grotesquely masked dancers moved in repetitious rhythm to the beat of drums and the sound of wailing horns, augmented by stringed instruments of ancient vintage. The dancers movements appeared to be roughly choreographed but presented no competition to the Rockettes.
Enroute to Alchi, there was a rafting opportunity - no takers. So a long dusty drive. Again, we climbed to gompas and monasteries. I ran into two California women who were marking time to rejoin their trekking group - they dropped out early on with problems climbing in high altitude. At Likir, there was a striking Golden Buddha that caught my attention. Next a lovely morning walk over wet and soggy meadows marked with streams to reach the Saspol caves, two of which were beautifully decorated. Then off to Leh and the Leh-Manali Road which is the second highest motorable road - it had been closed due to rock slides and snow run off as I left California and was barely open, now. But the scenery was awesome, on a par with that along the Karakoram Highway.
It was a two night ride to Manali. The first night was spent in Sarchu, a tent city for travelers, where I managed icey fingers and toes. I slept with every piece of clothing on me - cold, cold! High mountain passes, snow and a rocky, rocky road, nearly indecipherable at times. Road crews were hard at work to open up areas. At best a one lane road, trucks, cars motor cycles and goats navigated past one another. Always a bit exciting to look out your window and see straight down into the valley. The drivers and the Toyota Qualis’ performed magnificently.
As we went from one jurisdiction to another, there were check points where police laboriously wrote down every bit of information from passports - no computers there. In fact, electricity was a bit iffy at times.
The second night was in a comfortable lodge, similar to one I had stayed at in Georgia along the Military Highway. And then a long days drive got us into Manali. where there were a dozen or so Enfield motor bikes parked at the hotel, readying themselves for the ride to Leh. Brits, Kiwis and Aussies, including several women were confident their ride would be less arduous than ours.
There is Old Manali and New Manali, both appearing rather old and tattered. With MJ growing along the road, it was not surprising there were hippies with the Marley-braided hair, wandering about, along with the backpackers and tourists. There were several good restaurants, a bookstore and various shops. Some people hiked and others shopped. All of us got caught up in a morning’s Hindu temple celebration.
The rest of the trip was in a big bus, which bounded and bounced its way down to Mandi, Dharamsala and Armritsar. The view to and above Dharmasala was spectacular - through mist and fog up to McLeod and the old Cantonments to our hotel in Bagsu about 3 km from McLeod and the Dalai Lama’s compound. The rains let up to allow for a wander about the Dalai Lama’s compound - he was leaving the next morning for Leh! Despite intermittent rains the next day, the determined shoppers added to the locals’ economy. while others checked out a museum and returned to the compound.
The last day was spent driving to Armritsar and with time for Jallianwala Bagh where in 1919, Brits had slaughtered peacefully demonstrating Indians. Then to the The Golden Temple, holy place for Sikhs. One of our group was of Sikh heritage; I followed her around, having a much more participatory experience than the last time I was here. I went into the temple and then to the Langar where free food was served: chapatis and lentils.
Thus concluded the tour. I flew to Delhi and stayed in a very nice, reasonably price hotel in Old Delhi, less than half the cost of the New Delhi Hotel where I started this trip. And the restaurant at there was superb, the best food I had in India. There was a mosque in back so I had prayer calls throughout the day. Down the street from the hotel, was half a dozen men/women with portable tables and typewriters, providing business services to the locals. A product market and a book store were further down the street. Though damp and hot, I did walk around, absorbing the sights and sounds of India to hold me until I return.
Then the two night flight home!
Recommendations: Ah, The Broadway Hotel and restaurant in Delhi. I had stayed there on a earlier trip and remembered them fondly. In this case, both were even better than remembered.
The Lazy Dog in Old Manali, an exceptional restaurant.
Costs: Tour ran $1611(allowing for a 10% discount); extra meals probably ran about several hundred dollars. The New Delhi Hotel was $156 for the extra night while The Broadway was $66 for the last night. Airfare was $1700.
Screw-ups: There were a couple of problems. First, I didn’t have a voucher for the extra night at the start and had to make arrangements through the local agent - for a bit, I thought I might sleep a night in the hotel lobby for I arrived at 2AM and sat in the lobby until 10 AM when arrangements were worked out. And $156 is the most I’ve ever spent for a hotel room, anywhere, any time.
The second problem had to do with the tour. Originally listed as a Delhi-Dehli tour - which was one of the reasons I booked this specific itinerary. It turned out the trip ended in Armritsar. Fortunately I found out before I left so transportation to Delhi could be booked. Overall a good experience and I got my 2010 Himalaya fix.
This trip was with Explore, one of several small British budget tour groups, booked through Adventure Center. I’ve traveled with them before and never been disappointed. Labeled Little Tibet, the tour began in Ladakh; then Leh to Manali, on to Dharmasala and Armritsar with individual time in Delhi at the beginning and end. I did have a bit of difficulty signing on as Explore isn’t enthused about the solo Senior traveler, aged eighty or over. But with the help of my Adventure Center agent and assurances I could deal with the altitude and long drives on essentially unimproved roadways full of melting snow runoff and falling rocks, I was squeezed in. Actually, I more than held my own, only huffing and puffing when it came to step climbing up to several temples and monasteries. And I would have huffed and puffed on those steps ten, twenty years ago. And I was one of the four who didn’t have intestinal problems. .
The group of sixteen included seven Seniors, one couple, one Scot with ukulele, an Irishman, several Malaysians now Brits, a Canadian, four guys, the Brits and me, the lone American. Most were well traveled - good companions, all! The four single women rotated roommates so we became well acquainted.
I got into Delhi early and caught up on sleep, missed on the two night flight from San Francisco. When the rest arrived, there was the tour of New and Old Delhi - Old Delhi via pedal rickshaw. This was probably my third tour of the City; the sights, sounds, smells and colors of Delhi continue to fascinate me. I could park myself at a curb and just stay there indefinitely, losing myself in the entire scene,
Then we took off to Leh, a hill town, starting point for various tours and treks, There was combinations of Westerners, local Indians and Tibetan refugees. Throughout, there was a large Army and Air Force contingent for The Great Game lives on in this part of India bordered with China and Pakistan. And if Americans are concerned with AlQueda, the Indians and Pakistanis have played their game since Partition, particularly with nearby Kashmir claimed by both sides.
The time in Leh was spent at several monasteries and gompas, including Seville hours at a Buddhist Festival, the performance reminiscent of a similar event I attended in Bhutan several years ago. Here however, we were able to be up close and personal. The grotesquely masked dancers moved in repetitious rhythm to the beat of drums and the sound of wailing horns, augmented by stringed instruments of ancient vintage. The dancers movements appeared to be roughly choreographed but presented no competition to the Rockettes.
Enroute to Alchi, there was a rafting opportunity - no takers. So a long dusty drive. Again, we climbed to gompas and monasteries. I ran into two California women who were marking time to rejoin their trekking group - they dropped out early on with problems climbing in high altitude. At Likir, there was a striking Golden Buddha that caught my attention. Next a lovely morning walk over wet and soggy meadows marked with streams to reach the Saspol caves, two of which were beautifully decorated. Then off to Leh and the Leh-Manali Road which is the second highest motorable road - it had been closed due to rock slides and snow run off as I left California and was barely open, now. But the scenery was awesome, on a par with that along the Karakoram Highway.
It was a two night ride to Manali. The first night was spent in Sarchu, a tent city for travelers, where I managed icey fingers and toes. I slept with every piece of clothing on me - cold, cold! High mountain passes, snow and a rocky, rocky road, nearly indecipherable at times. Road crews were hard at work to open up areas. At best a one lane road, trucks, cars motor cycles and goats navigated past one another. Always a bit exciting to look out your window and see straight down into the valley. The drivers and the Toyota Qualis’ performed magnificently.
As we went from one jurisdiction to another, there were check points where police laboriously wrote down every bit of information from passports - no computers there. In fact, electricity was a bit iffy at times.
The second night was in a comfortable lodge, similar to one I had stayed at in Georgia along the Military Highway. And then a long days drive got us into Manali. where there were a dozen or so Enfield motor bikes parked at the hotel, readying themselves for the ride to Leh. Brits, Kiwis and Aussies, including several women were confident their ride would be less arduous than ours.
There is Old Manali and New Manali, both appearing rather old and tattered. With MJ growing along the road, it was not surprising there were hippies with the Marley-braided hair, wandering about, along with the backpackers and tourists. There were several good restaurants, a bookstore and various shops. Some people hiked and others shopped. All of us got caught up in a morning’s Hindu temple celebration.
The rest of the trip was in a big bus, which bounded and bounced its way down to Mandi, Dharamsala and Armritsar. The view to and above Dharmasala was spectacular - through mist and fog up to McLeod and the old Cantonments to our hotel in Bagsu about 3 km from McLeod and the Dalai Lama’s compound. The rains let up to allow for a wander about the Dalai Lama’s compound - he was leaving the next morning for Leh! Despite intermittent rains the next day, the determined shoppers added to the locals’ economy. while others checked out a museum and returned to the compound.
The last day was spent driving to Armritsar and with time for Jallianwala Bagh where in 1919, Brits had slaughtered peacefully demonstrating Indians. Then to the The Golden Temple, holy place for Sikhs. One of our group was of Sikh heritage; I followed her around, having a much more participatory experience than the last time I was here. I went into the temple and then to the Langar where free food was served: chapatis and lentils.
Thus concluded the tour. I flew to Delhi and stayed in a very nice, reasonably price hotel in Old Delhi, less than half the cost of the New Delhi Hotel where I started this trip. And the restaurant at there was superb, the best food I had in India. There was a mosque in back so I had prayer calls throughout the day. Down the street from the hotel, was half a dozen men/women with portable tables and typewriters, providing business services to the locals. A product market and a book store were further down the street. Though damp and hot, I did walk around, absorbing the sights and sounds of India to hold me until I return.
Then the two night flight home!
Recommendations: Ah, The Broadway Hotel and restaurant in Delhi. I had stayed there on a earlier trip and remembered them fondly. In this case, both were even better than remembered.
The Lazy Dog in Old Manali, an exceptional restaurant.
Costs: Tour ran $1611(allowing for a 10% discount); extra meals probably ran about several hundred dollars. The New Delhi Hotel was $156 for the extra night while The Broadway was $66 for the last night. Airfare was $1700.
Screw-ups: There were a couple of problems. First, I didn’t have a voucher for the extra night at the start and had to make arrangements through the local agent - for a bit, I thought I might sleep a night in the hotel lobby for I arrived at 2AM and sat in the lobby until 10 AM when arrangements were worked out. And $156 is the most I’ve ever spent for a hotel room, anywhere, any time.
The second problem had to do with the tour. Originally listed as a Delhi-Dehli tour - which was one of the reasons I booked this specific itinerary. It turned out the trip ended in Armritsar. Fortunately I found out before I left so transportation to Delhi could be booked. Overall a good experience and I got my 2010 Himalaya fix.
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