Paying The Bribe

As it turns out...I'm being forced to go home today.

Last day in Paris...

Ahhh "Charade." I really hope one or two of you out there get my references...

Well perhaps not forced. I'm getting on a plane to go back home and see family and friends and start my dream job and all that jazz. But still. My bribing days are ending. And a huge part of me is just not ready to go. I suppose that's to be expected. After 9 months of gallivanting around the world doing whatever I damn well pleased, I must join you mere mortals. I have to go home, start work, earn a pay check, buy a cell phone, find an apartment, gather things to furnish said apartment with, get up everyday at 5am, earn a living, pay taxes, visit the dentist and work towards a more stable future.

But why the hell would anyone want to do a thing like that?

It's the end of an era. And in honor of this occasion, I give you my bribing numbers. Travel statistics, for the true blog nerds:

Journeys...
(Defined as two or more hours, intercity travel is not included.)

(I’m a woman of the sea, you know...) By boat: 3
Plane: 21
Train: 43
Bus: 44
Auto: 5

Countries visited: 20 (nothing like the Vatican to pad the stats...)
Cities/Towns graced with an overnight stay: 86
Days of Bribing: 260

Assorted bribing classics...
Kotor. Go to Montenegra. Really. It's the new...something.

The hills are, in fact, alive.

Ali and Beth at the Pantheon.

Lost in translation...watch for children in bows?

Petra, one of the lovelier places on earth:

Doing the Titanic pose in Mcleod Ganj for unknown reasons:

Hidden talent discovered while bribing:

Bohinj! Always a crowd pleaser.

Number of times forced to sing along drunkenly to “Me and My Bobby McGee” with a man who had no business playing the guitar: 4. That’s right. 4. In one night. No. Really.

Number of times threatened with Bulgarian jail as my sister screamed “corruption!” and “you are bad people” at said menacing cops: 1

Number of momos purchased for me in hopes that I get into the old lady nightie: 1 (Thank you Sarah. What are best friends for?)

Number of Ipods ruined by the travel gods: 3

Pairs of underwear that survived the journey: 3. It's been tough out there.

Song most played on our only surviving Ipod: “Night Shift.” Ahhh the Commodores. Say you will. Sing your song. Forever more.

Lives up to your expectations: balloon rides. The Great Wall. Japanese toilets.

Most depressing revelation: there are no dill pickles in Israel. Entirely a New York invention. It's a nation of sweet gherkins. Devastating.

Universal take-away: Doesn't matter what continent, country, culture, age frame, size, shape or mother-tongue...men everywhere are the most unmitigated shits when they put their minds to it. (Dear random hostile Canadian reader: don't get upset. Embrace said universal truth. I've got sketchy hissers in Egypt, molesters in India, essentially all older Western men visiting Thailand, pedophiles in France...really. Don't even get me started.)

Now, I could go into a sentimental ramble about beauty and truth and finding myself on the open road. I could quote Whitman and wax poetic about great life lessons and the soulless nature of American life.

But I don't want to be that guy.

I was going to reward you all with the tale of Pete the Parasite. That's right. Being loyal readers and loving bribers, I was hoping to grant you the E True Hollywood Story: The Rise and Fall (and rise and fall) of Pete the Perennial Parasite. Two things stopped me:

1. I was informed that perhaps it was in poor taste to put the sordid details of your sister's parasite protrusion on the internet for the world to see.
2. The comedic millage I'm going to get out of this story will last a lifetime. Alison's incredible discomfort is small potatoes considering the hilarity we can share with others. It's about spreading joy in the world. And I'm quite positive that this is a story that is best enjoyed in an oral retelling. (Which sounds dirty, given that we are talking about bodily functions, but isn't.) I am currently penciling people in...but it's filling up fast. Best to inquire as soon as possible. Can't underestimate how good this story is. All the comedic elements are there: parasites, rubber gloves, skittish doctors, language mix ups...classic.

In lieu of Pete, just a quick word.

So grateful to everyone who made this year possible. My family, for not only encouraging me but joining up along the way. Sarah for proposing it in the first place. Ali for all that she does...reading maps and fending off touts and hooking me on historical romance novels. The Flanigans for making me laugh so hard I choke. Beth and Crystal who joined us and were always ready for adventure. And to everyone else along the way who sent advice, provided much needed cheer, humored our linguistic deficiencies, pointed us in the right direction, gave us a place to stay and a bathroom to use or a conversation when we were just desperate to talk.

Attempted to write something that conveyed just how amazing the year has been. How much I've grown, changed, learned. Can't seem to do it without sounding trite and contrived. But I did find something in my journal, dated September 21st, the day the journey began. It read: "Scared to death. No idea what possessed me to do this. But I guess it's just going to have to be a leap of faith...not just in the world, but in myself."

We've come a long way baby.

Signing off for now. Safe and happy travels, wherever you are.

"Ithaca is all along the way." -NM

Your devoted authors will be heading in seperate directions beginning in December and weaving our trip back together at points. I (Sarah) will be remaining in Mae Sot, Thailand until about Christmas volunteering with some refugee CBOs here. Lauren will continue to explore the country on her own before headed to India to meet up with her family. As a result our blog postings will be referencing different places and will not flow with one another in a way that makes sense. When we completely seperate following India we will try to come up with a better solution, but for the time being please remember to check the author at the bottom of the posting to find out who you're looking at (that is of course, if it matters to you). You can always click our individual names at the right hand side to see only one or the others posting and photos.
Here's a refresher course in case we've been away too long and our fresh faces are foreign to you so soon:

Lauren is here on the left. Her name on the blog is lbassi. I'm on the right and my blogs end with ivory. Hope this helps.

Optimistic travellers that we are, we set out early that fine morning with water bottles full, bodies rested, and (shock) legs bared in shorts for the first time this trip, to bicycle our way through the countryside surrounding Yangshou. We rode out of town, ambitiously declining the help of a local guide -- we are afterall, women of adventure. Less than a mile out of town, two things became very clear -- first, the charming rattling sound on my single gear bicycle was not going to go away and b) we were, already, really quite lost. In our possession however was a map and a dream and so onward we peddled further and further from town. Seemingly hours later, saved by a local school boy who turned us in the right direction, we happened upon the Yulong Bridge where bamboo boats abounded, their owners urging us to let them paddle us and our bikes to our destination.

We determinedly declined their assistance (as well as that of the many eager 8 year old guides who offered to assist us in our journey to the Great Banyan Tree). About an hour later, we find that we are, once agian, a bit lost. The scenery however is breathtaking enough to make up for the fact that we are unable to find the river path and we forge onward. Flash forward 15 minutes. We are trapped in the most miserable pricker patch Briar Rabbit ever imagined. What we thought was the river path had quickly narrowed into a thin dirt line that trailed between briars and rice paddies and did not allow space for our poor scraped and bleeding legs, much less our bikes. Urged on by two lady farmers assessing their crops we persisted only to become more and more trapped.

Much to our helpers' dismay, we turned back. On our way the gods shined on us, and put in our path another farmer who, amidst trying to keep a local steer from assaulting his muddy cattle, pointed us in the direction of the real river path (which, to our credit, did NOT run along the river). We were on the right track at last as we set off gleefully humming Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again" as we peddled our way in the direction of our destination.

Or not. Foiled again, we found ourself in a small village of endless twists and turns and monochrome conrete buildings. The village residents did not seem at all a stranger to lost travellers and had no inclination to assist us. Tired, bleeding, hungry, and terribly dejected, we turned back toward the highway that would return us to Yangshou. It was a long day, it was a trying day, it was a day that makes a woman of adventure doubt her sense of direction and explorative abilities. It was worth it.

Just a little friendly reminder (okay, perhaps it's an obnoxiously self-righteous lecture) but read on anyway, it's short.

To vote is more than a right, it is a privilage. To vote without fear of reprisal or violence is a luxury many do not enjoy. Please exercise your rights this Tuesday. To ignore it is an insult to those who are not able.

And who knows, with enough progress maybe the American travellers that follow in our footsteps 10 years from now will have to practice their Canadia "ehs" and claim to hail from remote regions of Alberta no more.

Real quick - we were able to upload some photos at last. Also finally figured out the photo gallery situation. You can click on our usernames on the right of this webpage to see our Travellers Point photo galleries. Because space is limited (we don't know how to resize our photos - if anyone knows, help is wanted) these will be photos of most interest to you folks. Sometimes we may also include the link in the post itself. Additionally, my entire collection of my photos will be added to my snapfish account so those of you who want to view every last picture (mainly this is for my parents, and all you slackers out there who have nothing better to do at work): http://www2.snapfish.com/share/p=469251159233059608/
l=212110230/g=45239634/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB (Put your own info in or create an account) Enjoy them as they come.