TravelStream™ news feed for member jackiegotravel on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/jackiegotravel en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Fri, 19 Sep 2008 22:06:16 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217827620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217827620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217827620/tpod.html Fri, 19 Sep 2008 22:06:16 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Córdoba, Andalusia, Spain and Canary Islands

Seville, Granada and Cordoba are the 3 cities that embody the Andalusian spirit.Jewels on the barren southen Iberian plain, these are places where traditions of Arabic bathing and Flamenco dancing live on, and ancient moor constructions continue to lure.

Seville has the quietest Moor palace of all three, the Alcazar. All the signature architectual elements that made Granada famous can be found here, minus the crowd. There are lively water fountains that extend from indoor to outdoor, sparkingly ceramic mosaics, elaborately carved plant and arabic phrase motifs, tiny courtyards to acommodate the king's harem, and peacocks taking advantage of the expansive outer garden. In beauty and livelyness it is a clear winner over the gigiantic city cathedral next door, one of the largest in Spain and the second biggest draw of town.

Outside,the streets around town center offer undiluted Audalusian fun. White flowered orange trees line the street. Horse carriges with big bright yellow wheels do a brisk business with tourists. The horses wore funny eye masks that blocks side vision, presumably help them focus on work. Official drink is sangria, with little bits orange peels bobbing up and down the pretty pink glass. Explore beyond the ubiquitous Pealla, and you will awarded with delicously grilled seafood, sausages, ham with potato, and the flavorful Spanish omlette- really an omlette of patato. At night, you may be lucky enough to get a ticket to the concert in Alcazar garden, or content with eating at an open patio under orange trees, occasionally serenaded by consumed local band passing by. My favorite hole-in-the-wall place has 2 big wine barrels serving as tables, and 4 walls plastered with vintage posters announcing Flamenco shows and bullfights, the most current one being the 2008 bullfighting season. Every design lovely spanish in their vibrant color, art inspired by tradition. Even managed to bump into a hotel that is converted from an old mansion. The building has a beautiful inner courtyard with a fern draped fountain as center piece. Second floor balconies are supplied with beautiful iron work, vintage sofa overlooking the courtyard, old dressing mirrors and religeous figurines. So Spanish.

The Alhambra palace at Granada, of course, is synonymous with the architectural wonders left by the Moor, Northern African monarchs who once controled much of what is now Southern Spain. These Islamic flavored palaces are richly decorated with carvings, reflection pools and fountains, simply wonders to behold. But Granada has really become too famous for its own good. Ticket line for the main palaces start forming before 6 in the morning. So at 5:30, I braved into the darkness, passing night revelers playing their last songs, then some tree lined, scarily dark walks in the park, to reach the palace perched on a hill away from town. After 2 hours alternative nap and chat with an ever growing line of other travellers, the ticket office finally opened. With such popularity, it was no surprise to find more lines to wait in in front of palace, and huge crowds inside. So there I was taking another nap at the exit of place, sitting on the floor of the lovely El Portal Palace, and blinking weary eyes at its beautiful reflection in the emrald green pool. Yes it is beautiful. but at a hefty price.

The Albayzín, old Jewish quarter, is the other highlight at Granada. I have long learned about its fame for windy, narrow streets that provokes sense of adventure and also facilitates mugging, and cautiously made my way in. Aside from one guy relieving himself on a particularly narrow and windy street (which I immediately turned away from), there was no offensive behavior met. And it was indeed fun to wander through its ever expanding layers of white walled houses, churches, plazas. Every other street leads to a bend, then a dead end at a small yard. Sometimes it is an unexpected Arabic themed souvenir store, grocery or hostel that surprise you. But mostly nobody is around but a few children, and the sleepy neiborhood feels rather like an ancient village. That is till twilight time, when the village suddenly spring to life. Streams of people show up from no where to gaze at Alhambra bathing in the afterglow, then disperse into discreetly hidden restaurants and flameco show locales.

Then there is Cordoba, where entire city center is declared World Heritage Site, people live among their history, and my fellow bus passengers kiss their fingers upon mentioning the name of its grand Mosque. This is the place to watch and touch time. Time frozen in elegant pensions decorated with elegant ceremics, their lush inner courtyard covered with sunshade during day time. Time dissolved in the arabic bath, where bathers stare at star shaped windows from the huge communal pool in between rounds at the fragrant steam room. Time trickling by gently in the forgoten plaza lined by old buildings,orange trees, and a casual bar serving delicously grilled cuttlefish on skewers. Diners take time to work on their beer, as kids peeking out from behind flower covered walls.

Audalusia is in the blood of the city. At day time, the burning sun drive pedestrians into the smallest patches of shades along the street. Wherever you raise head, the bright blue sky and skyline of white houses looks coming right out of Lonely Planet cover. The night I visited, Spaniards and tourists flocked to the annual gypsy festval. Busy tables were spread on a raised square. Beer and seafood sold on one side. At the center stage local lady champions put on a show of singing in Mantilla and flamboyant Flamenco dresses. Much of emphasis was on volume, with each bigger award granted to a louder voice from a more robust chest. Expression of emotion was further enhanced by dramatic steping in the tight dresses, stabbing of fingers, throwing of scarf over shoulders, and all kinds of mauneuvers with the fan. Flamenco champions performed too. Moves are more rigid than professionals seen at shows staged for tourists, but emotions more sincere. You know this is community celebrating life when 12 year old girls took the stage showing their slightly awkward best. As the singing grand champion, a lady wearing black dress, lace mantilla and a red flower for headress bent her knees and reached the end of her breath to sing 'mi Andalucia' lovingly to her best volume, audience clapped madly, and you know you've witnessed, tasted and breathed Andalucia.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1218549960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1218549960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1218549960/tpod.html Fri, 19 Sep 2008 04:48:30 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Athens, Attica, Greece

Ahh... Greece. The birthplace of classic culture. The place to tell classical sculture from Hellenic, ionic columns for doric, frappe from iced cappucino. Tip on the last distinction: For thickly foamed, incredibly delicious ice coffee order the frappe. Shaken from instant coffee, fresh milk and sugar, it is the national drink during searing summers. The use of coffee powder allows flavor to shine beautifully through the icyness, and of course is more econimcal for extensive consumption during the day. Stick also with gyro, the greek pita wrap with grilled meat and fries, and your euros can go a long way.

To be honest, summer is not the best time for Greece.On top of the unrelenting sun, entire countries of Northern Europeans seem to move down south to get their annual tan on the Greek beach. I've been warned of the British, but the greek islands appeared equally popular with Germans, French, even the Americans who were surprisingly absent for much of the rest of my trip. It does not hurt the beaty of Santorini, or the grandeur of the Acropolis. But acommodation does get harder to find, and way more expensive. In 4 days, I had stayed in hostel, beach front bunglow, and a rented tent.

You can't really do justice to Greece in 4 days. But since I am not a ruin person, too lazy to read all the background materials and too cheap to hire a guide, a compact itinery of Acropolis, National Museum, then Santorini was rather satisfactory. Seeing Acropolis with one's own eyes is of course a privilege, even when half of the high city is covered with scaffolds. Beyond Parthenon, the largest of the surviving and the most photographed temple, there are several others including a small temple devoted to the Athena Nike- she was godess of victory for 3000 years before symbolzing trendy sneakers. It is somewhat a pity though that in most places you cannot walk up close to the marble walls and columns, nor accessing the interior of the buildings.

The national museum is where you can have a up and close look at things, many things. Ancient sculture astonishingly well preserved, golden burial masks, beautiful vases depicting gods and men entangled in fate, gold coins excavated from greek colonies sang in ancient mythology. Idealized human beings and society depicted by citizens who first invented democracy. Enough said.

The current day Greece is of course much more chaotic than its optimistic ancestors would expect. To boarding the high speed boat to Santorini, I had to book ticket online 2 weeks in advance, visit 3 ferry company office in Athens and then Pirius Harbor for ticket issue, then it was a long wait under burning sun to get on board. The ferry was completely full. A large group of greek men gathered at the front bar drinking beers during the 4 hour plus journey. Kids ran around and screamed. Luggage filled cabinets and overflowed to fill front and end of the cabin. We rolled into Santorini harbor in darkness after 9pm. This being the height of high season, all the pension owners must have filled their rooms with passegers from eariler boats, no one was there on the dock offering rooms. Luckily one of the tourist information offices was still open and directed me to a campsite on one of the black sand beaches. The so called waterfront bungalow is really a row of simple rooms built with thin wood boards. But hey, you got to stay 50 meter front beach in an airconed room.

Santorini is a half moon shaped volcano island. Entire villages hang on top of cliffs overlooking the gorgerous Agean sea. The buildings are adorably candybox like. Round windows, round steps, round arches over entrance, round yard walls, everything plasted white with a lime hue. A few jewel blue church roofs stand out. The houses are built on steep rising ground and rise in height accordingly, as a result you could easily step onto someone's roof on the lower side the street. Quite a few cats and dogs take the opportunity for some leisurely roof napping. But home owners place plenty of no stepping signs to caution off passing by humans.

Many guide books recommend rented scooters as the vehicle of choice. Smart considering the Manhattan magnitude traffic congestion, when the whole world chose to show up at the same time, and the island prepared answers with frequent sections of one lane roads. Renting your own vehicle would also have allowed more freedom for exploration, like following one of the wine roads. The peculiar Greek grapes grow without the propping of trelices rather like yams. If you do take the local bus like I did, be patient and give yourself plenty of time. I almost missed the boat back to Athens when our bus to the harbor took over an hour rather than the supposed 20 minutes, and that is with the best effort of our cursing, sweating driver. You can also hop on and off the buses to visit villages along the road. The bus schedule is hectic, but the Greeks are known for their hospitality, sometimes described as an agressive one. If one person you asked does not speak English, he/she will find someone who does to help you figure out how to get home. With no shopping street and few English speaking locals, these off-the-map places often cater to tourists in more subtle ways. Walk around the quiet village, you will find arrows pointing to coffee house painted over a small road or someone's wall. My favorite business was advertised on a paperboard hung over a big tree, 'ride my donkey Maria, pay what you like'. At sunset head towards the village church invariably perched on the highest part of the village. The quiet, vibrant fireball falling into blue sea among floating islands is mesmerizing.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217646060/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217646060/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217646060/tpod.html Thu, 18 Sep 2008 01:25:32 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Lisbon, Estremadura, Portugal

Often considered backwater of Europe, Lisbon is a city caught between glorious past and not-so-hot present day. Visit its world heritage monuments, the brilliant Manueline style Monastery of Jerónimos and Belém Tower with their elaborate seafare themed designs of waves and knots, the old day Portugese glory during the Age of Exploration is palpable. Yet once you move on to the modern day city center, the little shops and equally modestly dressed locals are clearly a few notches tuned down in glam factor. Throughout the city, cafes sell grilled pork slices and sardine at bargain prices compared to other European capitals. Most streets are paved with little squares of stones, roamed by easy paced, sometimes aimless locals and stray cats. Quite a few little old ladies in floral dresses. Maybe the relaxed, slightly nostalgic atmosphere has to do with weather. Sitting next to sea, Lisbon enjoys the intense Iberian sunshine and blue sky, yet cool temperature and a nice breeze.

The alfama district that Rick Steves swears by captures spirit of the city well. Once the quarter of sailors, the narrow winding streets are crowded with colorful old buildings leaning on each other, some decored with entire walls of cemeric tiles. Neither the buildings nor the ceramics has weathered time well. The stains and chips, leaks and breaks,are blissfully ignored by locals and eagerly photographed by visitors. The heart of the colonizing empire look like a forgotten colonized corner.

This being one of Europe's poorer corner, you got to look out for yourself: certain streets look positively deserted but for a few young guys standing around. Fully armed policemen around the street corner comes as a relief, but at the same time signals the potential of the area for trouble. And I got to experience liftpocket firsthand,right around the central city square. This kid unzipped my backpack from hehind and was just about lifting wallet out when I turned around to face him. I stared, he smiled, and he and his friend walled away with their smugly smile. I shrugged, and kept walking.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217301360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217301360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1217301360/tpod.html Thu, 04 Sep 2008 01:34:17 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Akureyri, Iceland

If you have so kindly followed this blog, it has stopped growing for a while, blame it on the long tours I have been taking in Australia which seperate me from internet, cell phone, and long hot shower... But I did carry around a thick wad of scribbled papers, and here is the story, continued.

My morning flight heading to Akureyri was a true delight, finally had great weather, and the view of the icelandic interior from above was just phenomenal, like those pictures taken over frozen lands in National Geographic. There is the vast layout of barren black lava, laced with countless shiny patches of small lakes, tiny ponds and curly streams, in every and shape. Sometimes we pass deltas around sea with equally numborous and variable headlands popping out of blue water. Then the elevation gets higher. Dead volcanos, their cones choke full of grayish blue glaciers, stick out. At the end of those blue icesheets melt water form saphire blue ponds, a few stained brown by minerals. In the end, the greeness of Akureyri came as a total surprise.

Blessed with rather mellow weather, Akureyri is dotted with little gardens that the locals bring into flowering despite the coldness even in a summer evening. Many get their inspirations from the large communal garden with a famous collection of arctic and alpine plants, others complement the few flowers with colorful wind spinners, chimes or a clan of idiosyncratic gnomes. Since it is summer, many choose to eat outside, outfitted with heavy jackets and wool hats. Beer sipping in outdoor cafe is popular too, with the bonus of enjoying some sunshine till at least 10pm. The tour companies has a ready list of must-dos to be approached from Akureyri by day bus. Some of the sights are truly manificent. Dettifoss is the most powerful waterful waterful in Europe. The chocolate colored glacier water rushes with such speed it does not flow down the rock surface, but throw itself over the cliff in the hyperbolic curve. The tumbling water creates enough water mist to fill the valley for couple hundred feet, and forms a permanent rainbow downstream. Lake Myvatn, with its green, slowly sloping lands and blue water,is as close to British Columbia as is possible for a land with few inhabitants, in terms of being pretty in a civilized way. Others like Viti, the perfectly round volcano cone with a sulphourous blue lake at her bottom, deserves less time. All could be enjoyed for longer than the 10 minutes our BSI bus company decidied was sufficient for each sight. Like the rest of iceland, travellers here are drawn to the natual beauty but appalled by the hotel price, consequently hostel customers tend to be a more mature, professionally interesting group. One of my roomates was a Polish amature Dali style painter and professional fishing baitman- never knew such profession exists. Another a dynamite man from Australia where the demand to explode old houses is clearly strong.

Having seen the interior from sky, it was quite fun to take tour bus back to Reykjavik through the same area. The four wheel drive, dirt road winds through in between 2 vast glaciers, so big an hour's drive was needed to go from one tip of the glaciers to the other. We had a break at this most lovely bus stop ever at a campsite, with its own hotspring for soaking. The pool was artifically build from lime rocks, but the steamy sulphurous water could not be more authentic, leaving yellowish stain marks where it squirt in to the pool and depositing a thick layer of white minerals on the rocks around. Change into swimwear on the deck like everyone else does, slip in, find a spot with water temperature just right for you, and it is time for some glacier watching. Never thought I would say this, but we were lucky to had a cloudy day, so that light arrived as much from the sky as from the cold white reflections from the glaciers, creating these fantastic silhouettes of trees, buildings, people passing by. Oh as additional bonus, the bus also stops at the awesome Gullfoss and the Geyser, which gives all geysers of the world their name. So you could have a good laugh at those paying for a full day trip to come out of Reykjavik to see these sights.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216985220/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216985220/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216985220/tpod.html Wed, 20 Aug 2008 08:30:52 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Isafjördur, Iceland

Isafjördur is one of those places that are hard to get to, and once there, hard to get out, or get around for that matter. It is located in West Fjord, a remote and isolated part of the country even by iceland standard that is only sparsely inhabited by fishmen and sheep farmers. Now with the fishing industry collapsing as all the 'blood fish' are gone as a local put it, you really don't see a lot of people around at all. The land is old, scooped by ice age glaciers into bowls and gullies that are now draped with snow patches and shrubby greens. It is wild, and it is beautiful. Sea birds are everywhere. The arctin terns, which migrate through half of the globe each year, set up their nests here and ferociously protect their young. These elegant birds with snowwhite feather and a sharp red beak will float above their territory, and readily dive down to sink their beak on your head should you invade. I had one painful peck and that was enough to convince me to carry a wook stick and have it rise above my head - the bird attack the highest point of you. On a half day boat trip intothe tiny Vigur island, we also saw some amazing puffin action. Puffins are these funny little birds that have the black and white feather of a penguin, but then has a bright red beak with orange strip, and wings that actually carry them to the air. To witness their flight, you'd think that you are watching a giant bumble bee- with box shaped body and short wings, their flight seems to defy the law of physics. Since it is the season when birds are raising their young, loads after loads of birds came ashore with a full beak of seafood, and it really comes upon you that these sea birds are experts underwater as well. Of course you also see the eggs and the chicks. Ugly, clumsy tern chicks that are gray and fuzzy and almost the size of their parents but still to be turned into the pretty super flying machines they are destined for. Ducklings too. The farmer family on the island gather and raise orphaned Dider ducks, so when they reach adulthood, mate and use their neck dawn to build nests, he could collect some of that dawn to make the finest dawn pillow ever.

Having visited Vigur, I was so impressed with the birds that a visit to the famous bird cliff at Tranchenberg, a sheer 300meter drop to the sea where millions of seabirds are said to nest, seemed the thing to do. Small problem: buses to Tranchenberg only run on odd days and I had only one, even day left in Isafjördur. Well guess what, the suggestion on my guidebook that iceland is hitchhikable was confirmed by the local tourist information office. And off I go, standing at the first fork of the highway trying to hitch the first car of my life time. It took a couple tries, some cars do not stop of course , and some are going to a different direction. But within an hour, my luck rose and I was happily on the first of the 10 lifts I was to get during the day heading towards my bird cliff. The really neat thing about getting a ride is that you really get to meet people. And these are the locals who are making a living on tough land with great spirits and enterpreneurship. There was the pottery maker/grade school teacher, the student/coffee house owner, the fisherman with 4 kids, the former fisherman taking his 60 year old mom to her gallery exhibit opening, the colorful weather station maintainance guy who knew pretty much everything about iceland from the number of universities (3) to the age of West Fjords (40 million years), and is a member of the two-man task force that keep the weather stations running in the whole country. Then there is the couple who are land owners/farmers/hoteliers. The profession of farmer in iceland really refer to the raising of sheep on vast, but poorly vegetated patches of private lands. And it was just intriguing to hear my farmer hosts talk about the trade: for the entire summer, the sheep hang out in the wild on their own, when fall comes some would volunteer back to the farm pen for warmth and food, the rest are rounded back by sheep dogs. Luckily for my hosts, the one sheep dog they own was enough for the job of keeping an eye on their 600 sheep. But they are training two more dogs, I was told, for the specific task of catching breakaway minks who have escaped becoming fur decoration and are now wrecking havoc on the local vegetation- clearly a task more demanding than the 600 sheep. We discussed their modest hotel, which is yielding more income than the whole sheep farming work. We talked about the famous icelandic horses, extremely sweet looking, but would kick your ass if not properly trained. And puffin meat. The adorably looking little birds also turns out to be a local delicacy, caught in thousands in Vigur island alone each year and smoked for the consumption of fans. If you love the taste of sea birds you'd really like it, I was told. Well I have never tried a seagull to begin with, and just envisioning the taste of oily, sea-salty meat was quite enough to satieate my puffin hunger. Altogether, making the trip took 10 lifts, 12 hours, and some fretting minutes spent on high pass not being able to get a lift as evening approaches. Seeing the congregation of seabirds on a cliff was cool, but on its own not worthy. In this case, it is as they say, that the journey is more important than the destiny. And all is well that ends well, as I grinned silly dragging my tired body into hotel at 10pm, with the lingering northen sun still on horizon.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216573920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216573920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216573920/tpod.html Sat, 02 Aug 2008 14:05:44 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Reykjavík, Iceland

I have not updated this blog for what feels like ages. But really, what can you do in a country where everything is darn expensive, with $12 kebabs and $6 an hour internet fee.

Still, you have to see iceland once. The land of fire, ice, waterfalls and hot springs. Arriving from spain it was a 20C change in temperature, and stark change in food choice from exquisite tapa to white bread, but there is the icelandic stuff to enjoy. I love hot springs, period, and iceland provides such varieties. The communal swimming pools have hot tubs, rather surreal to be swimming in geothermal heated pools or soaking in one of those perfect temperature hot tubs while watching the nordic sun leisurely linger on horizon at 10pm , and swimmers languidly glide along- yes the pools stay open really really late. Then there is the blue lagoon, probably more associated with iceland than anything else in the mind of tourists. THis is geothermal water drawn from underground, in a milky blue form because of all the minerals it contains, thrown into a artifically built rock pool large enough to hold all the busload of tourists coming on their way to airport and still feel airy and ample. There is also white silica offered on edges of the pool to smear on skin for an effective mask. The icelanders I met gripe that it is too expensive, but really, if you only visit once, this is the place to go to enjoy the art of soaking in hot water. There is also the hot springs of wildness, not quite well temperatured, and you have to content with weeds, mud, duck parasites(seriously, there is warning that the best way to avoid them is to not bath) etc. in the pools, but in return, you have a smaller crowd of hardy campers for companion, and outlandish views of colorful mountains, huge glaciers, vast wildness. More on that later.

For a country of 300,000 people, Iceland is fittingly hard to travel around. Buses often run on selected days of the week, and many of the most beautiful regions like Landmannalaugur or skatefell only have campgrounds and a few beds in mountain huts. So if you can afford a tent and a 4 wheel drive car, life improves dramatically. Otherwise, read the seemingly endless number of brochures that offer tours, plan obssesively, and be ready to learn that your tour has been canceled by bad weather. Even in cities, camping facilites are abundent, while if you are not married to a banker, hotels can be exorbitantly expensive, so bring or buy a sleeep bag to stay at one of the so called 'sleep bag accomodations´ to save. Don´t forget earplugs and eyepad in these shared rooms. And chat up, you will meet Chinese business men here to buy sea stars, loads of Dutches, French,and the ubiquitous German, which makes often interesting and informative conversations.By the way, the country offers generally weak beers(2%) and coffee, both consumed copiciously . There are also dense, decilous yogurts called skyr, and incredibly fragrant roses to watch out for. On the plus side, the fewer people and slower traffic means that things are more flexible. I changed my domestic flight date with no question asked.

My first serious efforts, after floating around the supermarkets and swimming pools of Reykjavík, was a 4 day trek through the wildness from Landmannalaugur to porsmork. For all its publicity as the most famous trail in iceland, it is true wildness you are entering. 2 out of the 4 days on the trail I was literally alone, seeing nobody ahead or behind, till at night in the mountain hut where everyone meets again. Now of course its rather silly to brave the often steep, dangerously exposed trails alone, espeically when weather is always a concern. But the sense of independency you get from such a trial! You and your little backpack are all to be relied on in this big world of wild wind, lava fields, and melting snow. If you fall, no one is there to catch, and thus the conquer of even a small hill becomes so much more delicous. You have the whole wild wildness to yourself, starting from the mountains of Landmannalaugur to the glaciers of porsmork. And you hear the wind, then you hear the silence of the wild, and life seems so much alive. Landmannalaugur is especially impressive, imagine death valley, with its painters palletes of colors in red, brown, coral, sandy, then thrown in patches of white snow, green moss, black lava, and trickling creeks of melt snow water, with glistening lakes in distance, you get this truely outlandish combination where everything catches the eye. The Next part of the trail crosses a plateu, covered by jarring contrast of white snow and black lava, and animated by steam vents and wildly blowing wind. As I approach Porsmork, the weather turned into moody overcast, perfect for enjoying the blue hues of the vast glacier ahead. By far the lagest glacier I ever saw at this point, it is a vast sea of white ice that extrudes from several different directions, sectioned by cliffs in between, spreading, hanging, perching on or from the rocks as they push to the edge to completely take the breath away the person who, on the last acsend before the full view, start to gradually grasp the magnificence of it on each further step he or she takes.

The food: carrying 4 days of food on shoulder, I naturally went lazy and packed the lightest stuff possible: instant noodles, dried fish, chocolate. The instant noodle cooked with 3 eggs purchased from the van/post office/grocery shop at Landmannalaugur was easily the best in my life. And guess what the French tour groups bring: grilled salmon, roasted yam. One evening as I was laying in bed in the mountain hut chewing my dried fish, could not stop laughing when I overheard one fellow declaring the next course being cheese from north of spain!

Word of caution: be aware of rivers, do not wade through one when no one is present, the last river before porsmork is strong and you can fall and really risk your life! The locals warned me more than once.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215452520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215452520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215452520/tpod.html Mon, 14 Jul 2008 14:09:16 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Courmayeur, Italy

My friend Olivia used to say that the world is an amazing place, how true.

My trip through the Alps started with a cable car ride that lifted me up to 3800 meters, crossed a glacier, and brought from the Italian Courmayur to the French Chamonnix. From Chamonnix, 4 days of hiking along the famed Route de Monte Blanc, a premier alpine hiking trail that goes around the magnificent Monte Blanc gets me back to Courmayur for luggage pickup and a nice shower.

The cable car ride was amazing. Snow capped mountain peaks surrounds you, huge, glaring white glacier spreads below you. Daring mountainneers traversing the snow appear first like little black dots, as you get closer to them, could see the rope connecting each person in the group.

Then there is the TMB trail itself, winding through alpine meadows with a backdrop of magnificent glaciers and waterfalls. Purple, white, yellow and golden wildflowers fills the meadow. Cows wearing basketball sized bells feed leisurely all day, and produce most delicous cheeses.

The company- I had the joy of doing the walk together with John and Stuart, who must be the finest example of Irish friendliness and fun loving. Together we trudged through icy rains and hails, and survived a thunderstorm, always laughing when not smiling, maybe with just a bit of teeth grinding when things got really tough. For my part, I contributed much laugh stock, mostly by carrying out a certain silly act involving a certain foil blanket (John and Stuart, I know you are reading this, stop laughing), but I got back by beating the Irish at their own game of Scrabble.

The lodging- mountain huts on the trail are very characteristic places. We had one sitting on a slope with paranomic view. A herd of Ibex hang out around the hut all afternoon. After dinner the  troupe of 5 chefs came out and presented a fine music show with trumpets, accordion, and much singing and dancing. It gave me much proudness to be informed by the chefs, cousins from a nearby valley, that I was the first Chinese to stay at the hut. Not just the first Chinese woman mind you. At the next hut though, I met my traveling nightmare, the bed bug. Why, you ask, would someone who climbed 700m mountain passes, and fell on the stairs flat on cheekbone (yeah, did that too) be freaked out about a little insect. Well, sometime ago National Geographic carried these magnified pictures of blooding sucking insects, and the bedbug was this little hairy monster with huge biting teeth looking dearly like some alien fighting machine. Looking at the biting marks on my arms, and thinking that one might be hiding in my clothes ready for a hitchhike trip, give me chills. PS next day- no more new bits, no free riding bedbug, yeah!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216055940/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216055940/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1216055940/tpod.html Mon, 14 Jul 2008 13:37:03 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Madrid, Madrid, Spain and Canary Islands

Despite being more southern in location, Madrid is acturally cooler than Barcelona in temperature, and lower in humidity. There is no modernista architecture too see, only a whole lot of bars that stay open till super late, and citizens who go to bed in early morning, and close down business for 3 hours in the afternoon to take a nap. Thankfully, they serve drinks in smaller glasses. In barcelona 1 glass of sangria would come at 500ml.

Not to be missed when you visit spain is the flamenco show. It is serious affair, the performers barely have a chance to smile. Singing and dancing steps are powerful, intense, spontaneous. The singing is a big part, especially for the first show I saw in Barcelona, primal tones that fits arid, broad plains of the Spanish south. After a night of attending dance shows (late show finish at 2am) followed by clubbing (club close at 6am), fill up on gooey hot chocolate of superior quarlity, or fresh squeezed juices from orange to mango. For more experience of the outstanding Spanish cuisine, head to the produce market at La Ramblas 91 in Barcelona has every type of fruit, spice, fish, ham you´d ever want in tasteful display, and bars that cook market fresh food for you like the razorclams- not cheap, but awesome.

high speed train between the two cities runs up to 200 miles an hour, only takes an amazing 2 and half hours, with TV, music, and drinks served, itself an interesting experience. But set aside an hour to wait in line at the train ticket office, longest I have seen so far. Again, an experience.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215729300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215729300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215729300/tpod.html Mon, 14 Jul 2008 13:15:37 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Pamplona, Navarra, Spain and Canary Islands

I am reporting here a very exciting day. Guess what, I got to see bullfight, and not just any, but in Pamplona, during St Fermine (if you have not heard of it, this is the festival where people run in front of a herd of rushing bulls).

The bullfight is just what it is cracked to be, big, angry bulls; showy, daring torero; nerve wrecking moves; blood on sand. The first bull killed will always be the deepest I remember. To see the poor animal lanced and seriously bled was a shock, still more shocks came from the close encounters between the beast and the matador. We had a particularly skillful metador, he would hold the bull´s back with his free hand while guiding the bull through passes with his cape.Finally a clean move landed the sword deep in the animal´s heart. After the bull made his last move, horses were raced to pull out the still body of the once powerful animal. Singing and band fanfare burst out.
But this being Pamplona, the bullfight is turned into an excuse to party like everything else. Dancing parties of viewers enter the arena with banners and marching bands. Still more people in the know come carrying meals, drinks, ice bucket. By the time the second bull is killed, much attention is diverted to eating and drinking, at least in the upper section of arena I was seated. The weather was hot, and with over 10,000 people crammed together, and 7 bulls to kill, a lot of viewers seem to relish their cold alcohol as much as the man and beast fighting for life below. I was passed quite a few bites of free food, a cup of icy pink liquor that had an anise flavor and quite strong, and several warnings from the nice old lady besides me to be careful with the potent drink. The matador is amazing, not just for his dare and skill but stamina, running and thrushing in his elegant but very heavy suit for 2 hours.

If you go, buying resold ticket from guys hanging around the arena may not be bad idea, since the ticket office has very long lines and sell only for next day. The ticket seller will happily find you a cop to validate the authenticity of the ticket. Just keep in find that lower row numbers are better, since they are at lower locations and closer to the bullfight ring. Mine at 15 was at the top of the arena, still have a nice view though.

By night, the entire town turned into one big party, drinking that had started here and there by 4pm in the day become full blown, streets literally were drenched in alchohol. Buses run all night. To sleep, or to party, that is the question, for me now.


Note on next day: finally witnessed the legendary run of bull, and people in front. And it was 5 disappointing seconds. The streets were lined with several layers of people. With my midget size, all I could manage was to get a glimpse of running legs. Heard the bells the bull wore, then viewers started leaving, and it was over. I talked to one guy who ran, and it was quick for him too: the bulls were too fast, a few seconds running in front of them and you are off to side of the street. It is funny to think that maybe the true scheme behind the bull run is to get people out of bed early in the morning after all-night partying, and keep them bleary eyed all day.

Also had lunch at police station. No, I did not flirt with law. Since it is fiesta time, the police is cooking for the knowing public. So it was a crowd of white clad spaniards and me with my huge backpack, washing down sauteed bread with bacon and onion with fizzy white wine-tastes far better than it sounds.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215645960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215645960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jackiegotravel/1/1215645960/tpod.html Thu, 10 Jul 2008 20:17:08 -0400 Checking out the world- Europe, the country down under,Malaysia and China

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

San Sebastian, Spain and Canary Islands

After 30 hours of train ride, 5 train changes, I am in cool, refreshing San Sebastian now. The train travel itself was rather interesting. Starting from Turino last morning, I had no plan, and pretty much jumped onto any train next to leave that is heading to the general direction of Spain. Of courese, things aren't made any easier by the fact that I am passing through 3 countries with different railway systems, and ticket offices only adice on their own country. So 3 train changes got me cross the Italian-French border. Some advice from a local on the train, info from the ticket office, and on spot decision making together allowed me to find a sleeper train that arcs through half of France and reaches the Spanish Basque country. Very slow, but nice and clean first class, gave me a well earned rest after the alpine hiking. One more half hour local train, yeah, I got to San Sebastian.

San Sebastian has 2 really nice beaches next to each other, with a active yet casual ambience. Maybe because the water is too cool, more people seem to favor a walk on the beach than swimming in the sea, turning the beaches into a natural promenade for bathsuit clad walkers. Another popular activity for the kids is to create DIY swimming pools by digging into the wet sand and letting water seep through. You could feel the salty moisture in the sea breeze. So nice. Could do with fewer topless girls and really hairy men though :-).

I have learnt that picking a good cafe, and pay repeated visits as much as possible, is a great way to make the cities I am visiting feel like adopted home. In San Sebastian it is the cafe sitting opposite to the cathedral that I fell in love at once. Fruit studded bread, lovely intense coffee with just the right amount of milk and a star shaped cookie, the locals going over newspaper slowly, time to sit back and relax.

As for the tapa- world famous for a reason. It is said that there is a higher concentration of Michelin stars in San Sebastian and tapa bars in old town than anywhere else on earth. I justed wandered around, walking into a place and pointing at what looks interesting on the counter. The result- some truly delicious fried langostino, a stick of grilled mushroom, prawn and bacon, a well constructed tower of prawn sitting on top of egg on top of fish on top of bread. Oh and black pudding and fried hot green peppers too. Got to stop talking about it now, or I will never be able to leave.
]]>