Prunus persica, or how I acquired and used 40 pounds of peaches

While Tommy had his heart set on biking all the way to Wilbur over Washington Pass, my one desire was to buy peaches (prunus persica) during our Eastern Washington Excursion. Before leaving home, I researched all of the little orchards and farmstands from Twisp to Omak. I took orders from family and friends, promising a box of joy on my return.

After stopping at 4 roadside stands, we learned that freestone peaches were not ready yet and that the early redhaven variety was not as prized for canning. Oh well, I had my heart set on peaches and if I needed to freeze them all then I would!

Hoping that Wenatchee might be just far enough south to have the freestone peaches in season, we took Hwy 2 home instead of Hwy 20. At the Wenatchee farmer's market, we scored. A very friendly lady was selling 20 pounds of organic peaches for $1/lb. Good price. The question was, did I want one box or two? I ended up buying 5 boxes of peaches: 2.25 boxes for me, 1 box for Alex, 1 box for Beth, .5 box for Shari, .25 box for Jessica. I also bought 10 pounds of cherries because they were so good.

What did I do with my treasures?

Rum Soaked Cherries - 16, 4 oz jars

Amaretto Soaked Cherries - 5, 4 oz jars

Amaretto Soaked Cherries and Peaches - 6, 8oz jars

Boozy Cherry Molasses with Rum & Kirsch (3), with Amaretto (4) - 7, 4 oz jars

Sweetheart Cherry Peach Jam - 5, 8 oz jars

Rainier Cherry Peach Jam - 6, 16 oz jars

Hibiscus Peaches - 16, 16 oz jars

Frozen Peaches - 10 lbs

Peach Cherry Rustic Rye Tart - 1, 9-in tart; 8, 3-in tartlettes

Crunchy Top Peach Pie - 1, 9-in pie (Received Honorable Mention at my Neighborhood Association Picnic Dessert Competition!)

Eating - 6 peaches (If I were Lynn, this number would be much higher - to the tune of at least one full box of peaches just for eating.); 3 pounds cherries - Tommy ate about 2 pounds on the way home from Wenatchee.

Could I have used more? Of course! I have already got my eye on this Peach Butter and this Peach Chocolate Dessert Sauce. Next year.

Swawilla-what?

After a couple days of recuperation at Roger and Ellen's, I was ready to try my legs again. The blazing hot finish to my adventure on Tuesday had convinced me that riding in Eastern Washington in July was insane. Nevertheless, as I sat looked out over Lake Roosevelt and contemplated riding over the mountainous Manila Creek road, I became more and more restless. I had my bike in a place I've never been able to ride in, and the riding should be excellent. The plan was to catch the first ferry (a free state ferry connects WA-21) across the lake at 6am. Then I would stand a good chance of getting the biggest climb of the day done before the sun hit me.

As it turned out, my plan worked pretty good at first. Thin morning clouds kept me out of direct sunlight all the way to the summit, 2000 feet up from where I began. From the top I could look down over the Swawilla Basin, the southernmost portion of Lake Roosevelt that ends with the Grand Coulee Dam.

The descent was fast and furious. I was averaging somewhere between 30-35 mph, just flying along, when I saw road construction up ahead. I forced to wait... for 45 minutes. To be honest I really wasn't that frustrated. The clouds were still blocking the sun and I had no agenda for the rest of the day. When we did get going again, I was thankful to be paced. The last few miles of the road, before it hit highway 15, were one of the most ridiculous descents I have ever seen. Sharp corners at a 10% grade with enormous cliffs and no guardrails. The flagger actually told me that there was a pile of cars at the bottom of one cliff, and there was no way to get them up. The construction job was to widen the road so that rails could be put in.

I got going again and cruised through Elmer City. Then it was a short steep climb past the dam itself to the town of Grand Coulee. Time for significant climb #2. I learned that in Eastern Washington, long straight hills are simply referred to as "grades." I was to ride up Coulee Grade and then down Wilbur Grade on WA-174. These grades are my kind of climb. I'm not much of a climber, but because of my build, I really prefer a long, consistent climb to short steep stuff mixed with flat stuff. Above a certain grade and I am in big trouble. Anyway, I found a good steady pace at about 9 mph, and climbed up to the top of Coulee Grade. Near the top, a strong north wind picked up and I finished the climb at 18-20 mph. You can see that I was happy!

The ride down Wilbur Grade is awesome. You can see Wilbur itself 10 miles down the road, 1000 feet lower, and you just go. Even though it was a highway, cars can't pass you very quick when you're going 40!

The 5th and final left turn of the day brough me back to highway 21 and I made the final short climb to what Morgan's family refers to as "The Curves": my reward for the day. Here's a photo from the top of The Curves.

The long, sandy driveway made a fun but challenging finale to a great ride. I made it back to find out that Ellen (Morgan's great aunt) had called people along the road to let them know when I road by. I'll probably be in the Wilbur newspaper... again.

As always, click on any photo to see the rest of them on our flickr page. Click here for my ride details.

No Longer a Proponent of 80 Mile Warmups

It's been a wasteland here since March, but I'm going to dive in headlong with the latest Lingbloom summer adventure.

On Tuesday I left Bellingham at precisely 5am. There was just enough light that I only needed a tail light. The goal was to ride over the Cascades via Washington Pass to Winthrop. In one day. The early start was great. I made it to Alger by 6am, and Concrete (49 miles into my ride) by 8am. There I stopped at a road side diner for some breakfast sandwiches, and was whistled at by a couple of country bumpkins. In Bellingham, my response to this kind of behavior would be to wink or blow a kiss in return, but I've seen the movie Deliverance, and decided it was high time to get on with my ride.

When I got to Marblemount a little after 10 am, I had ridden 80 miles. I was pretty tired, and I hadn't even started climbing yet. The highest elevation I had reached on my ride was only about 700 feet, on Lake Samish Drive. Marblemount is at about 300 feet above sea level. Over the next 42 miles, I would gain 5,200 more feet!

I took a break at Colonial Creek, slammed a cliff bar (I was eating constantly all day) and began the 32 mile ride to the summit. Looking down at my speedometer, I was barely able to maintain 8 mph up the steep incline. When I did the math, it was pretty disheartening.

An hour later, I was slogging along when a car came flying by me honking like crazy. It was my only road rage instance of the day... or was it? In fact, it was just a pleasant surprise from three friends returning from Chelan. I talked their ears off for a few minutes and then continued on my way.

As I continued up the pass, I became more and more drained. By 2pm I was stopping every 30 minutes to take a quick break. A little after 3pm the broom wagon caught me (driven by Morgan), and though it sounds ridiculous, I was so tired that I briefly considered catching a lift and skipping the last 2 miles.

Even though it was smoking hot, and even though I was dead tired, and even though 8 mph is not fast enough to ride away from flies, I sucked it up and powered to the finish. I was exhausted, and my knee was killing me. But I made it.

After a nice little photo shoot (you can go to all the photos from this ride on our flickr account by clicking on one of the above photos) I mounted my bike to attempt the descent down to Winthrop. I made it Mazama, and that was it. The 10 minute break, combined with 20 minutes of not pedaling while flying down Washington Pass, had convinced my knee it was finished. Every pedal stroke was agony. It was disappointing not to make it at least to Winthrop, but the hot wind in my face put me over the edge. I called it a day.

If I ever do this ride again (and I would love to), I will drive to Marblemount and start from there. Riding 80 miles before a challenging climb is stupid.

If you want to see the route I took, you can click here. Click on the "Summary" tab for the elevation profile (Which I think is always the most interesting part).

King Konglor

We have been busy busy busy since getting home a week ago, but today I find myself temporarily unemployed. A good time to update, and share about one of the most spectacular places we went in all of our travels.

In going to Laos, I told Morgan that there was only one place on my "must see" list. Konglor Cave (Tham Kong Lo) promised to provide something relatively off the beaten track, yet still well worth the trip.

Seeing the cave is a several day affair. Only local buses make the trip to the nearest village of any size, Ban Khun Kham (Na Hin), on Route 8. It was about a 5 hour trip from Vientiane, and we were the only foreigners on the bus. We left the bus unloading and walked into the town.

The town was basically a single road running parallel to the highway, with a smattering of guest houses, a couple restaurants, and a small local market. We saw a tourist every now and then, but they were few and far between. Because of this people were very friendly and happy to converse if they spoke English.

We found a great restaurant where the locals ate, and our 16 year old waiter was very happy to practice his English with us. We ate their three times in two days! Luckily, we spotted a couple that we had eaten with in Nong Khiaw, and made plans to hire a songthaew and go to the cave the following day (50 km away).

At the end of the road is a large hut full of local boatmen. Each boat carries two boatmen and up to three passengers. Any more will make the boat bottom out too much, and make it too unstable. As it was, we still had to get out and wade several times while the boatmen rug the canoe (sound familiar). One boatmen was in the back of the boat manning the prop, and the other was in the front scouting the river bed. He would signal spots to avoid and where to turn. They both had powerful halogen headlamps.

The cave, 7 km long, was absolutely amazing. It was impossible to take pictures in the dark, so you'll just have to pretend. The river was between 20-50 m wide, and usually very shallow. We could see the cave walls and ceiling from the lights of the boatman, but most of the space in our peripheral vision stayed in the dark. The most incredible part of the experience was emerging into the daylight on the far side. Click to watch.

Need I say more? And that after half an hour in the dark cave. We were very pleased.

On the far side was a group of a dozen plus kids around a couple of small cafes. We sat down at one of the tables and beckoned the children to come over. Warily, but quickly, they came closer. I took off my backpack and we pulled out a special purchase we had made in Luang Prabang: Lao children's books from the organization Big Brother Mouse. Considering how little volunteer we had done in our travels, compared to what our plans had been, this was a great opportunity for us to o something small but significant. The excitement of these kids conveyed the great need of local language reading materials in Laos, and as a bonus, made us feel great. One of our boatmen was very excited and asked us if he could have one for his child. We gave him our extras. Spirits were high as we made our way back own the river for the return trip through the cave!

All Good Things

Well, I finally found a computer that I'm able to blog from! The flow of information in Vietnam is not quite as free as in other countries, we've found...

So for those of you who haven't already heard, the rumors are true. We're throwing in the towel, and flying home Wednesday. There are many interesting things that have happened to us over past couple of weeks, and I do intend to blog about them. In other words, just because we are coming home does not mean the highly informative travel blogging will stop. Morgan and I both have some mental debriefing to do, and thoughts we'd love to share about our year of travel as a whole. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, let me give you the scoop on how we were pushed over the edge. From Luang Prabang we headed south to Vang Vieng, a backpacker party town that we would normaly have no interest in, but for an organic farm and school we had been hoping to volunteer at. The farm was 4km from town, so we were looking forward to some isolated peace and quiet.

It was not meant to be. 50m down stream from the farm were half a dozen catering to drunk 19 year olds who were tubing down the river. The bars competed to play the loudest music, so we heard three songs at once, so loud you couldn't think, all afternoon and evening.

On top of this, enough English teachers had been procured for the week, and there was very little to make ourselves useful on the farm. Then Morgan came down with some dreadful stomach disease, and I soon followed after. This is not good when you are sleeping in a bamboo hut/furnace with unsantitary bathrooms outside.

We decided to pack up, slam to lopramide, go south to Vientiane, get a room with AC and cable, and not leave until we were better. 150km on a local bus took 5 terrible hours. Running a fever, I could not lean back because the bench seated ended at my mid-back. Despite my repeaed attempts to crush her fingers with my shoulder blades, the woman behind me seemed to think it was ok to use my seat as a headrest, her knuckles digging into my ribs.

We finally got to Vientiane, found a hotel, and collapsed at noon. Three hours later we awoke to bed bugs feasting on us. We left in a hurry, fortunately not having paid yet, and found a nicer hotel. Alas, history was doomed to repeat itself, and Morgan discoverd a second infestation at 1:30 am the next night. Clearly these bugs had been living in the bed frame for quite some time, yet the hotel had the gall to blame us. They also had no other rooms, so Morgan slept the rest of the night on the floor and I just read in a chair. The next morning we booked into the most expensive hotel of our SE Asia trip, following a thorough, headlamp-aided bug sweep.

Eventually we recovered from our stomach ailments (thank you, Ciprofloxacin), but we were at the end of our rope. Both of us had been reduced to tears, and it was clearly time to go home. The reality was, it had been time to go home for some time. When we got to a new place, we were no longer motivated to explore, see the sights, or interact with the people. That being the case, it was ridiculous to continue with the trip. We called United, paid an exhorbitant amont of money, and moved our flight up three weeks. It was the right decision.

It was the worst week of our entire trip, the only positive being that we got to watch some of the Olympics. When watching the winter Olympics from a sub-tropicalcountry is the highlight of your week, you know its bad. That was 10 days ago, and much has hapened since, but we are still ready to be home.

Like I said, I promise to blog about the good stuff too!

North?

Our plans to volunteer in Vieng Vian, 6 hours south of Luang Prabang, were falling apart. Having no reply from our destination, an organic mulerry farm and school, we decided to scrap our plans to spend two weeks there and head north. But how far? For two days in Luang Prabang, our plans changed constantly.

One hour north on the Mekong is joined by the Nam Ou river. This river flows from the northern most reaches of Laos, and is (usually) passable by boat most of the year. We decided to head up the river, and turn around when we felt like it. Some may think us crazy to get on another boat, but don't worry: this one was smaller and less comfortable!



With 8 other travelers on board, we headed back up the Mekong, turning onto the Nam Ou. 30 more minutes upstream we head our first problem. The river was two shallow, so we had to get out and push! Most of you will not be surprised to hear that I was the first one out of the boat, extremely excited at the prospect of using a little manpower.



The rest of our day was long, and uneventful, but incredibly beauftiful. Packs of naked 3-5 year old boys would run to the riverside and dance, wave, or throw thmselves into the river to say hello! It was quite the spectacle. The mountains began to narrow at several points, and the limestone cliffs were spectacular. We weaved through the rapids and spotted encampments of people fishing, washing, harvesting riverweed, or panning for gold. People would smile and wave, especially children, who would shout "SABAI-DEE!" and wave with both hands.



We arrived in Nong Khiaw and were astounded by the beauty as we walked over the bridge. The "highway" that cuts through town is barely a two lane road, but continues 16 hours (I don't know the conversion in km or miles) to the Vietnamese border. Cars, buses or motorbikes only roll by every 5 or 10 minutes during daylight, then stop altogether when it gets dark. We ate a ig meal, and crwaled into our bungalow wearing all of our clothes to endure a cold night.

In the morning we went to check out the Pathok caves, where the local Lao lived for 6 years during the Vietnam war. Vietnamese soldiers traveled to the south on the Lao side of the border, so the United States basically bombed the country the pieces. Some cities were completely and utterly destroyed. Caves like these exist all over the country, as they provided the only hope of safety for villagers.

At the ticket hut three boys were playing soccer, so I stepped into the goal with a "bring it on" pose, and the kids took shots at me for a while. Then, with a well timed "made you look" ploy, I stole the ball and a game broke out. It was great fun, and we learned how to count to ten in Lao. When we finally walked up to the caves, Morgan noticed a group of 3-5 year olds walking down the path towards us. They walked straight into the fields and started working! It was shocking to us, but in small Lao villages children begin to contribute as soon as they are old enough to swing a machete. Of course, they were not bent over and slaving away, they combined play with their gathering of veggies and fruit, but it was still a crazy site for us.



That afternoon we walked up a bath to a minority village. There are hill tribe villages all over Lao, many of them Hmong, a minority group that helped the Americans during the war, and in turn was greatly persecuted. Things seem to be ok now, though. It was great just to walk around a part of the country that was both beautiful and not overrun with falang (foreigners), though there were still a few of us around.



We had a decsion to make. Continue upstream all the way to Phongsali, taking two more days of boats, or head back down and continue on our path? In the end two factors made up our mind. First we would leave Nong Khiaw with a great memories, not disapointed a bit. Secondly, it was quite cold. We grabbed a bus back to Luang Prabang yesterday.

Tomorrow we head south, but I am on a mission to get off the beaten track again before we leave this country!

The Slow Boat to Somewhere

It took us three days to get to Luang Prabang, just as we had planned. The getting there, however was nothing like we had planned. As we sat at the bus station after being told the next 3 hourly buses to Chiang Rai were sold out, I reflected on how quickly plans can go awry. If we didn't get to the border by 6:00 pm, we would trapped on the Thai side and be fined $30 for overstaying our visa. Not the end of the world, but not a good start.

Thanks to the help of a monk we met on our eventual bus, we made a speedy trip across Chiang Rai to the other bus station, and immediately found a bus leaving for Chiang Khong. Three hours more and it was another touk touk ride to the river crossing, where we hopped in a boat to Huay Xai and made it to Laos immigration at 5:30. Whew!

The question Morgan and I had been wrestling with was whether to take a 10 hour bus to Luang Prabang or a two day, 6 hour per day slow boat. There was also a fast boat that made the trip in a single day, but it was basically a soapbox derby car with a car engine strapped to the back, so we passed. We had heard that the boats can be pretty packed, and the overnight town is pretty shady, but we hate arriving in a new town late at night, and who can pass up a boat trip on the Mekong? Boat it is.



The boat was scheduled to leave at 11:00am, so we got down there at 9:30 and bought tickets. We bought sandwiches for the ride and $1 pillows to sit on (knowing we would leave them on the boat in the end). We got on the boat at 10:30 to find a seat, but we didn't start moving for another 2 hours! This was a good indicator of how the boat ride would go.

The bench seats on the boat were completely unsittable; the backs seemed to be at about a 60 degree angle from the seat, thus dissuading any attempt at comfort. Fortunately we found a stack of plastic lawn chairs in the back, and settled right in.

The Mekong followed the Thai-Laos border for the first hour of our trip, and we saw lots of signs of development: barges, dump trucks of coal on sand bars, logging, etc. Then the river meanders back in between the mountains and most signs of human activity disappear. Every so often we would see a Buddhist wat (temple), a few people fishing, or groups of people that appeared to be panning for gold. Otherwise it was just water, sand, rock and jungle. Naturally speaking, it was much more interesting then our Mekong trip 1000 km downstream in Cambodia.



It's impossible to share such cramped quarters with other tourists and not get to know them. Behind us sat 4 older Canadians from Prince George, all teachers or retired teachers. With us sat Chris, a 28 year old Australian living in London (who had been with us since the Chiang Mai bus), and across from us sat some younger folks from Holland and England. It amused me to realize that we seem to relate better to people 30 years older than us than we do to people 3 years younger than us. Another sign I am turning into Calvin's dad, I suppose.

Around 4pm we stopped at a small fishing village while locals poured onto the boat to sell us sandwiches, fruit and Beerlao. As quickly as they came, they went, and we were on our way to Pakbeng. I was not looking forward to Pakbeng, as positive attributes were hard to come by in the descriptions. People said to keep valuables close, and one traveler on the Lonely Planet forums described it as "kind of a wild west town." I wasn't keen on getting into it with anyone at the local saloon.



Fortunately it wasn't a problem at all. About 5:30 the boat pulled up to a beach and we were told we would have to walk 10 minutes around a shallow section of the river, where we would then re-embark. Then it became clear that we needed to take our bags as well, because we were actually getting onto a new boat. With one gang plank for us and our sister ship (about 150 people in all), you can imagine how efficient it was to get off all the passengers and luggage, when much of the luggage had been placed underneath the floorboards with benches on top. I got off and started waiting for my bag to turn up. A few of us realized that the boatman were going to be no help in this process, and so took it upon ourselves to unload. I stood at the edge of the water while another traveler tossed backpacks to me. Once I had unloaded the packs of Morgan, Chris, and myself, I waved goodbye. "You're on your own now!" The first signs of savagery were starting to set in.



Based on the general rule of calculating travel times outside of western society, I figured our "ten minute walk" would take us between 20-25 minutes. It took 40, and it was no walk. It was a hike over sand and rock, and it included one creek crossing. Granted, Morgan and I would've been much faster if we were not waiting in a line for people to get past the tricky parts. We're fast walkers. Not Isaac Hurst fast, but pretty fast. I also had the mystique of the hippy backpacker destroyed in my mind. I always thought that they were in-shape outdoors types, but this is not necessarily true. Just because they are dirty, skinny, and trendy (we only have the first 2) does not mean they are capable of walking on uneven surfaces. To the Dutch and English guys who had been drinking heavily, they must have seemed even more uneven!



As you can see from the pictures, the sun was quickly setting, and though we weren't even close to Pakbeng, the rumor began to circulate that we would be sleeping on the boat. After we got into the boat of our choosing and secured a spot next to the Canadians, I went out to look around. We were moored downhill from a very small village, and it seemed the entire community of 40 men women and children had come down to meet us and sell us foodstuffs. The sun dropped down for good, the sand began to feel cool against my feet, and it became clear that the rumors were true. I had read previously that the boats could not safely travel in the dark.



As I walked across the gangplanks back to our boat (the last of four), I caught the end of a conversation between a large young Englishman and a boatman. "We have to stay the night on the boat? Oh, you're just joking. I should push you in the river for that!" The boatman then exhibited one of the greatest nervous laughs I have ever seen.

On the boat we had fried rice and Beerlao for dinner, and Chris and I played Euchre against the Canadian men. Around 10pm we made space to sleep sardine style, and we eventually drifted off as Dutch techno drove out my last remnants of compassion for my fellow man.

We got going again at first light, and this is where things got ugly. Chris, Morgan and myself created a nice personal area on our clean beach mat, with room for people to walk around to the bathroom. When the party crew returned from the beach in the morning, they sat across from us, slowly creeping into our personal space. My passive aggressive side was about to burst as their garbage and clothes spilled over into our area, where we had neatly tucked everything out of the way under some benches. Since we weren't swimming in our own filth, the spaces between out legs became the path to the bathroom, and we were forced into less and less comfortable positions as the hangovers set in and the party animals crashed. This was or territory, and they were invading it!



I know this is a long post, probably my longest ever, but I must diverge on a point of historical and cultural differences. A thousand years ago, the culture in SE Asia was quite advanced. In Europe, we were digging in the mud and dying of the plague. There are many reasons for this, hygiene not the least among them. As is the custom in many SE Asian homes, we removed our shoes on the boat, shook the sand off, and wiped our legs off. When going to the bathroom, we carried our sandals to the door, wore them inside, and again removed them after finishing our business. This was important because a thin pool of water was a constant presence in the bathroom.

In this manner, had others followed suit (and some did), the boat would have remained a very clean and habitable environment. In reality, people trudged wet sand in their nasty Tevas, sweaty socks rubbed against my ankles, and on the return trip from the bathroom what toilet juice that didn't get dripped on my exposed legs was stamped into the floor between them. It took about 5 minutes for us to realize that if we wanted our beach mat to make it to Vietnam in any kind of sanitary condition, it needed to go away immediately.

Clearly savagery had fully set in, but it was ok because we arrived in Luang Prabang a mere 11 hours later. We passed the time with reading, talking, playing cards, napping in the fetal position, and passive aggressively vying for square footage. The last two hours were the best. As the sun set people began to move around, snap photos, and converse with the anticipation of arrival. It was a beautiful evening, and the approach to the city was spectacular. No out of control development, no sky scrapers, no billboards. From the river you can't even see the buildings!



Today Morgan and I were discussing whether or not we would take the slow boat again. It would be a tough call, but if we had any of you with us, the answer would definitely be yes!

Travel Weary

"I want to call United."

"Seriously?"

Morgan had trouble believing me because the roles are usually reversed, but I meant it this time. We are not even halfway through this part of our trip, and I am very, very tired. Being at the Williams house has been an incredible blessing, but home cooked meals, family time, and a daily routine have a price: Homesickness.

The fact of the matter is that we've been "playing life" for the past 16 days. Our minds and bodies feel like we're done traveling. Not so. Tomorrow we are off to Laos, and the grind continues. I am hoping that a kickstart of three travel days will get us back in the saddle, but at the moment heading back home sounds very nice.

Pray for us to be tough as we head off once again! We have a day of bus and two days of boat before we reach Luang Prabang on Monday evening. Then we head to Vang Vien on Wednesday, where we plan to spend 10-11 days. Me miss you all and are thinking of you!

Grace for the Moment

Last week Mitch went home. It was weird after he left, a major transition in our trip. An hour after his flight left it started pouring rain (sorry you missed it Mitch!), and Mo and I took a walk in the downpour.

The next day we flew to Chiang Mai with vague plans to volunteer at Grace International School. Tad Williams' family attends/administers/teaches at Grace, and so we have been staying at their house and helping out in small ways at the school. Morgan is in the science department and I am in P.E. Woohoo!

The Williams are awesome. It is so great to be in a home for (to us) an extended period of time. They are fun, welcoming, and kind. On Sunday night I went with Seth (Tad's older brother) to an Irish pub to watch premier league soccer. We were joined by two student teachers from Norway and a guy from the Faeroe Islands. we got cussed out by a crazy British woman for cheering for Manchester United, who was destroying Arsenal. It was great fun.

Chiang Mai also has the best market/bazaar we have been to in all our travels. They are selling cool, local stuff, and vendors let you look at their stuff without bothering you. It takes place on Sunday nights when they shut down an entire city street for people to walk down.

A special surprise happened at the market, when I saw towering over the rest of the populous one Steven Shetterly! It was easy to find him in a crowd; I must be the same way! The next day we went hiking with him up to some waterfalls outside of town where there were absolutely no tourists at all.

We'll keep you posted oon the rest of our trip, but I will leave you with our general plan, cut and pasted from a Morgan e-mail:

We have a basic plan for the next 2 months:
- 2 weeks in Chiang Mai
- travel a few days in Laos
- 1.5 weeks in Vang Vieng Laos teaching English and working on an organic mulberry farm
- 2 weeks traveling in North Vietnam
- 1.5 weeks in Quy Nohn with Steven and Joelle
- fly home March 29!

Pictures to come.

Down for the Count

We don't have malaria, or dengue, or TB, but we have something.

It started a few days ago with fatigue and nausea. The next thing we knew, Mitch was becoming an expert in projectile vomit. Apparently, it feels a lot better if you just drank a cold bottle of water.

The worst seems to be over, but both Mitch and I are having trouble forcing down food, and neither of us can garner the energy to leave the hotel room here in Ao Nang. Given our current miserable circumstances (Morgan is fine, albeit bored), I will tell you about how amazing Ton Sai was.



We came to the Railay peninsula on the reccomendation of both the Allynes and Tad Williams. We are so glad we did. Railay consists of 4 primary beaches with a clear price scale. We stayed at Ton Sai, the backpacker/rockclimber beach, in a nice little bungalow. The picture below should give you an idea of what the area is like. We are facing the mainland, with Railay East directly below us, Railay West across the isthmus on the left, and Tonsai across the bay beyond Railay West.



Mitch went rock climbing one day, as this is the biggest attraction at Railay. I can see why Justin and Tad are so fond of it! I also went kayaking with Mitch one afternoon, but for the most part we just hiked around and hung out on the beach.

The coolest place we went was the lagoon, in the center of the peninsulas head. We climbed up to the viewpoint where your orientation photo was snapped, and then back down into a hole in the limestone: a lagoon that connects underground to the sea. It was a climb up and down to get there!



In the end, even after four nights it was difficult to climb in our longtail and head back to civilization.



Mitch is flying home in a few more days, and we are flying to Chiang Mai to investigate a service opportunity we have there (more details to come when they are firm). Our trip has really been coming off the hinges lately, and with the recent illnesses we could definitely use some prayer. Pray for Mitch, that he would be healthy before he climbs onto the first of 4 planes that will take him back to Seattle. Pray for Morgan and I, that we can arrive in Chiang Mai healthy in mind and body, ready to serve. We could also use prayer that we can balance trying to be budget minded with enjoying ourselves and also knowing that God is in control.

Bye for now!

Rubber Sandals

Yesterday I tried to plug our camera in to the computer at our guesthouse to upload more photos. As I was holding the camera, I felt an unpleasant sensation work it's way up my arm to the rest of body. Dropping the camera to the floor, I realized that I had been electrocuted! The USB port on the pc was not exactly legitimate technology.

The guesthouse owner, who is extremely kind, helpful and welcoming, ran to my aid. "It's ok, just wear the rubber sandals," he offered while pointing out the crocs next to the computer.

You can guess how I felt about that, so I tried another internet source, where it took about 10 minutes to upload one photo.

Internet cafe #3 got me electrocuted again, but I have finally found a good source at "Siem Reap Fast Internet," which also happens to be the name of the other cafes...

Anyway, I've uploaded pictures from Angor Wat for you to check out, and here are a couple more good ones from last week:



I was amazed by the sheer number of local people who were involved with the tour in some way:



Happy sailors:



Riverside homes are built on stilts for the flood season:

Tour People

"I think we all need to not see each other for the next5 hours."

Morgan is probably right, so I came to the internet while the Luce gang naps in hammocks. We are in Cambodia, but I want to write about Vietnam. A lot has happened in our first week, and the brief time we spent in Vietnam (though fortunately not as brief as our first attempt) is worth sharing about.

We became tour people on the first day in Saigon, and haven't looked back. The one thing we wanted to see in Saigon was the Cu Chi tunnels; the huge underground network where the Viet Cong entrenched itself just outside Saigon. There was actually an American base only 5 kms away!



We completely lucked out on our tour guide: He was a war veteran who fought for the south ("that's why I have no pension"), so his stories were great and his perspective priceless. You could really tell that he wasn't worried about saying something that would get him into trouble. In the above picture he is showing us sandals made from tire and tubes.

After the war his family was moved out of the city and forced to farm rice for ten years or so. When the Cold War melted under the new glasnost policies in the USSR, Vietnam followed suit, and our guide returned to Saigon and eventually became a tour guide. That English came in quite handy after all! Economically, I honestly can't tell what about Vietnam is actually socialist. Unless socialist simply means that there is only one party and you can't vote. Anyway...



The tunnels themselves were quite interesting. My favorite part was actually going in the tunnels, which have been widened to let western tourists through. It's still quite a squeeze though, at one point it was a downhill belly crawl! I'm pretty sure the original idea was that you would have to be Vietnamese to squeeze into those tunnels.



There was also a display of booby traps, an American tank (can you see Mitchell?), and a shooting range where you could fire anything from an AK47 to an M80. $1 per bullet. Sidenote: Here in Cambodia you can chuck a live grenade for $30, and while it's tempting, I'm not trusting my life to Pol Pot's 30 year old leftovers.



Let's move on to the next day. Mitch was excited to boat on the Mekong, so we booked a three day, 2 night tour that started in Saigon and ended in Phnom Penh. Under $50. Booyah. It was a great trip. I felt that we really got to see what the life of people in the Mekong Delta was like, from rice factories to floating markets to coconut candy to tropical orchards. On the last day we spent about 7 hours in a small boat heading up river into Cambodia. We stayed close to the banks and just observed. It was a wonderfully relaxing birthday. The best way for me to express how great it was it to show you the pictures. Here are a few of my favorites, there are many more on our flickr site (just click on a photo and it will take you there):


Rice paper drying in the sun


Loading melons to sell in Can Tho


Climbing on a "monkey bridge"in a fruit orchard


Huge spider

I'll post more pictures when I get them uploaded, and fill you in on Angkor Wat in the next couple days. Peace!

79 Hours to Saigon

00:00 We leave Redmond at 3:00am to head to SeaTac. After being lectured about having a different name on my plane tickets then I have on my passport (thanks Mom and Dad), United finally gets it fixed and we fly to San Fran.

08:00 We are asleep in the terminal of the San Francisco airport.

10:00 On the plane to Hong Kong!

22:00 Still on the plane to Hong Kong...

30:00 Our third flight, from Hong Kong to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). arrives at last.

31:00 There is some confusion with immigration; it seems that you need to procure a visa before arriving in Vietnam.

32:00 We are escorted by guards to a room labeled "Deportees."



35:00 Sleep is intermittent at best.

40:00 We board a flight back to Hong Kong ($800 down the tubes for three round trip tickets)

47:00 We find the Vietnamese consulate in Hong Kong, and fill out the forms to apply for a visa.

47:08 Our visas are ready.

47:15 Rice and a fried egg, the first food I have eaten that was not provided by United Airlines.



49:00 I catch Mitch updating his facebook status to "I feel like I am traveling with the Gooftroop."

52:00 We check into the "Safari Guesthouse" in the Chungking Mansions. Population density of Hong Kong: 100,000 per square kilometer. I think they were all in our building.

53:00 At 6pm local time, we are all asleep.

63:00 At 4am local time, we are all awake.

66:00 Macaroni and ham soup for breakfast.

68:00 A walk in the park. We are approached by enthusiastic birdwatchers, and briefly join their ranks. Mitch works it.



73:00 Wait, where are we?

79:00 We get off the plane in Saigon, and ease our way through immigration. At least I can finally cross "Get deported from a foreign country" off of my list of lifetime goals!

Hope you are all having a less expensive, less stressful, but probably less adventurous time at home. We love you!

The Answers are In!

Q: Tommy, what is your sense about how Americas are received abroad at this point in history?

A: As far as an overall trend is concerned, things are definitely better that when I traveled 5 years ago. I think that people's perception of a country is largely based on its leadership. Given the popularity of Obama on the international scene, especially compared to GW, people seem to be warming up to Americans once again.

That being said, it varies a great deal based on what part of the world you are in. In Kosovo, Americans are beloved and Bill Clinton is a hero. In Serbia, it's the opposite. Recent international policy has a huge effect on these attitudes. In Jordan and Egypt, the fact that we were Americans would elicit standoffish responses. The exception was when somebody was trying to sell us something: "USA number one!"

Q: Morgan, what is your impression about how women are treated abroad, by both nationals and visitors? You have traveled in areas that historically don't treat women so well. I hope that is changing...

A: I can't really answer this question because I didn't personally witness or have many interactions with women, especially in the Middle Eastern countries we visited. I did notice two major differences though: 1) Clothing - obviously, women in Turkey, Jordan and Egypt wear a hijab (headcovering) and wear very modest clothing. 2) Visibility in society - in Dahab, on the Sinai Peninsula, I saw three local women in 5 days. Two of these women were walking down the street with their children and one was working in a shop. In Siwa, Egypt, we counted about ten women during our 2 day stay. The women in Siwa were usually sitting in the back of a donkey cart with their children while their husband or oldest son drove the cart. Even in Cairo, we interacted mainly with men in taxis, restaurants, and tourist attractions.

Q: Both of you: Where did you encounter the best chocolate?

A: We ate a lot of Snickers bars during long bus rides and hike. They were passable, not great. We tried some Salt Chocolate that was made in Slovenia. It was not my favorite. The winner in the chocolate category was a dessert Tommy had in Istanbul. He saw it in a shop window as we passed by so we made a date to stop by there later in the week to try it. It was full of raspberries and chocolate mousse.

Q: Okay, which clothes do you absolutely want to burn? What items are your picking up for leg 2 (things you forgot, or things you used a lot)? New clothing items?

A: (Morgan) I got a little sick of my purple-pink-teal selection of tops. I often felt like a 14-year old. For leg 2 I am taking more black! Also I am leaving behind my shorts and jeans. Shorts - I never wore them, my skirt and dress were much more fun to wear. Jeans - essential on the first half, as it was quite cold and dress was more modest, but SE Asia is too hot for jeans.

A: (Tommy) The varying climates made packing a challenge. We had to contend with hot weather and snow in the same trip. For SE Asia it will only be warm and humid, so we are bringing a lot less! I brought 4 pairs of shoes - running shoes, goretex hiking shoes, flip flops, and chacos. I was glad to have them all. Now I am only taking chacos and running shoes. I had a pair of jeans and dress pants, both of which had "structural failures." Yikes. I am leaving behind my fleece and a few shirts as well, so I have about half the clothes (by volume) that I had before. I am bringing a new round of t-shirts that I am not sick of yet.

Thanks to Sarah and Emily who posted questions about our trip. Nicole, Brian and Bob thanks for the silly ones.

Our flight leaves in 9 hours!

Click on any photo to view our flickr photostream. We love comments.

Home

We've been:

• making surprises
• unpacking
• listening to NPR
• sleeping in cozy beds
• having dinner with friends
• playing video games
• reading mail
• exchanging gifts
• eating too much food
• visiting family
• celebrating the birth of Christ
• romping through closets
• playing disc golf
• packing

We have been blessed by our time at home! Now we are ready to tackle the second half of our trip. Stay tuned!

View photos on our Flickr Photostream. We love comments!