Cook Islands Wrap Up

We didn't know that much about the Cook Islands when we decided to spend nearly a month there. We knew there were beaches, the google images were solid, and it was cheaper than Fiji. Choosing a spot for our wedding wasn't easy. I worked with a “wedding coordinator” (I'm using quotation marks properly) who really was just a shmo from Small Guide Travel who got kick backs for pointing people to resorts that her website had deals with. Having seen the place Mandi with an “I” recommended to us, I'm glad that we got wise to the jig with her and did it ourselves.

Rarotonga is the largest of the Cook Islands – it takes nearly an hour to circumnavigate its single road. The island is volcanic which means fantastic produce, a giant bump in the center than can be hiked over, and v. strange weather systems. We had nearly a week of full sun before the rains began. Some days in our bungalow I thought trees would be uprooted; some days they were.

Unlike other vacation destinations, Rarotonga isn't super built up. Most people that go are from NZ, and rent bungalows rather than staying in hotels. The biggest resort is tiny compared to a major chain hotel. The beaches are public and quiet: no one is selling sarongs, or hair braiding, banana boat rides, or herbs packaged as weed. There is just ocean, beach, jungle and the road to putt around on a scooter.

For climbing.

Which isn't to say we were bored. I snorkeled almost every day we were there. The island is surrounded by coral. On the downside, this means there are only some areas where the ocean floor is soft and sandy for wading. On the upside, one can snorkel from the shore anywhere on the island and see tropical fish that are beyond amazing.

Being on Rarotonga made me wonder why we ever lived in a city.  Waking up in the morning to the sound of the ocean, wandering to the beach to snorkel for an hour or two at a time, scootering to the local gas station/video rental/grocery store/fish and chippery in the afternoon, it makes one think about chucking it all. We came up with a fairly detailed business idea that is still being batted around.

Meeting so many formerly-corporate New Zealanders who've sold off and opened small businesses on the island makes one think. The men are thin from tennis playing and are so tan that the creases around their eyes are bright white when they aren't smiling, which happens rarely. They work outside on their property, or pour gin for their seasonal friends, or teach tourists how to sail. They're professionally relaxed.

Ed asked my when we were in Koh Lanta how long I thought I could stay at the beach and not get bored. I thought a month would do it. I was wrong. Apparently my tolerance for the slow paced life is virtually inexhaustible.

For looking.

Extremestown

I didn't have a chance to wrap up NZ properly while we were in the Cooks.  I was super busy with snorkeling, scootering, and trying out various sarong tying methods.  But I'd be remiss if I didn't include a little ditty on Queenstown, which is one of the most picturesque cities we've visited on this trip.

Queenstown is made for tourists.  Extreme tourists.  I imagine the expression "been there, done that, bought the tee-shirt" originated there.  There are almost endless ways to get one's adrenaline fix in Q-town, including but not limited to: bungy jumping (both the world's oldest and, separately, the world's highest), paragliding, parasailing, jet boating, downhill mountain biking, glacier climbing, heli-hiking, heli-skiing, heli-rafting, heli-biking, white water rafting, black water kayaking, canyong swinging, zip lining, skydiving, hot air ballooning, ATVing or snowmobiling.  The list continues, but it would seem that if one can jump off it, be launched over it, or ride on it in a dangerous way, someone in Queenstown has created the experience.

by choice.

Ed and I aren't the extreeemmmmeeee sorts and neither of us counts adrenaline among our vices.  But Queenstown is rad, even for those who don't want to be video taped screaming at 9.8.  We spent our week wandering the small town, drinking local wine, and hiking in the surrounding mountains.  I rented a bike for an afternoon and followed the lake trails to a nearby town.  We rode the luge and ate delicious cheese and soaked up the amazeballs autumn weather.

mountains for walking

cheese for lunch

I don't have a conclusive wrap up here.  What I do have is a petit hangover and another picture of Toby.  Fin.

We climbed up shit

Hiking is one of the only "sports" that Ed and I truly enjoy.  We don't do it for health reasons, its not self flagellation, we just dig it.  And Australia's National Parks are top notch in every way.  Weather permitting, we've hiked the shit out of this country.  And so, a brief summary with some lovely images from 'uardo.

 From Brigg's Bluff, Grampians National Park, Victoria.  It was insanely hot this day, and the hike was a bitch.  But, the picnic at the top was rad.

Mt. Wellington, Tasmania.  There were parts of this terrain that looked like other planets.  When the fog rolls in, one can only see a few feet ahead.  Great location for a horror flick, me thinks.

South Cape Bay, Tasmania.  These wooden planks lead through swampy grasslands, rainforest, and eucalyptus stands.  Magic.

The end of the South Cape Bay walk was here, at the Southernmost tip of Australia.  Last stop before Antarctica, which was fairly evident by the freezing winds.

Boronia Peak, also in the Grampians.  We were hungover this day after an insanely amazing meal and evening at the Royal Mail in Dunkeld.  Since we don't have DVR, we had to walk it off.

 We spent 3 days hiking our arses off in Cradle Mountain National Park.  2 days it sleeted, but on the final day it was perfecto and we hiked up the big stuff. 

 I do not look down.

 Cradle Mountain was not without challenges.  Or wombats.  My heart nearly exploded from cuteness.

 

Mt. Fuji; like Where's Waldo for adults, the Japanese

The first time I came to Tokyo was on a business trip when I was 23.  Our office was in a glass box high in a skyscraper and on my first nerve wracking day someone pulled me aside, pointed out the window, and said "On a clear day, you can see Mt. Fuji from here."  I looked out that window every morning and every evening for 2 weeks.  I saw fog.

Since then, I've lost count of the number of times and places that the phrase has been repeated.  I've made several trips to Tokyo in the last 10 years and have only seen the famed peak in photos.  At the top of Sunshine City in Ikebukuro, on a hill in Ome, from a bar in Ginza, on the roof of the Mori, and plenty of other places, people have signaled to where the mountain would be if only the seemingly mystical conditions for its appearance were met.  

We figured our best shot at it was the daytrip we had planned to Mt. Takao.  A lot of photographers go just to shoot the Fuj, so we waited for a day that the weather called for sun and boarded an early train.

You can imagine my excitement, when, about 3 stops before we arrived at Takaosanguchi, I glimpsed the thing between the buildings flying by the train window, looming in the sky.  I roused Ed from his magazine and frantically pointed, much to the amusement of the other passengers.  For once I wasn't at all embarrassed because seeing the mountain seems about as likely as seeing a unicorn.  And if that isn't something to spazz over I don't know what is.

Once we arrived and hiked up trail 6, past waterfalls and through a stream via a boulder path, the view was even better.  And when we climbed to a 2nd, higher peak, we saw it closer and were virtually a private audience.  Ed tried valliantly to capture it but without his hardcore camera gear it was tough.  I still think he did alright:

We leave Tokyo tomorrow.  We love this city, we've had a blast, and I'm sure we'll be back.  But I'm not sure when next I'll have this view.  I'm so glad I saw it at least once, its definitely one for the highlight reel.

Kamakura - we did it so right.

Usually when we plan an outing, a daytrip, or even select a city to visit, no amount of due diligence yields perfect results.  Invariably the train we thought we'd take doesn't run on the 3rd Tuesday of the month, the beach we wanted to go to closes precisely on August 22nd, the concert is sold out, the restaurant has burned down, the moon is waning, the protesters, the hurricane, the plague, etc. 

Which is why, on the train home from Kamakura, there was some mighty fist bumping and self-congratulations on the execution of a perfect day.  Even the German judge gave it a 10. 

This website has the pertinents, if you're in the hood:
http://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2166.html

Kamakura is a suburb of Tokyo, about an hour by train to the southeast.  We packed up the night before, e-mailed ourselves a few maps, and were on the train from Shibuya by 10:20 the next morning.  Considering that my old job required me to be in the office at 7 a.m. for conference calls several times a week, its amazing how difficult I find getting out of the house by 9:30.  Alas, we cleared the hurdle and boarded the train like sleep deprived puppies.

We got off at the Kita-Kamakura station at the north of the city.  I share this detail because we later departed via the south station, which meant we had an entire day of wandering and hiking with no doubling back.  Which was key.  I have an irrational hatred of covering the same ground twice.  So inefficient.

Although I came armed with maps and the GPS (for once) the Kamakuran tourist lovers have posted the city so that even the dimmest of Westerners can enjoy it without losing their way.  We started at the Jochiji Temple, which is nestled in a thick forest of thousand year old cypress trees.  Any reader of this blog knows that we have been to a mind numbing array of temples on this trip, but this one goes on the highlight reel.  As their handout will plainly and humbly state it is only the 4th most important Zen temple in Kamakura, but for me its the numero uno gordita.

Next to the Jochiji Temple is the Daibutsu hiking trail, which is windy and wooded.  Its a gorgeous walk full of staircases made of ancient tree roots, plus there are spurs leading to parks and temples along the way.  It spit us out right near the Great Buddha, which is Kamakura's big draw.  There were some American delegates there making thoroughly inappropriate jokes to their Japanese diplomat hosts about the size and shape of Buddha's ears.  Really made me swell with pride (again) to be from the US.  Let's just say I did NOT return their 'am I right fellow Westerner?' smiles.  0 points for those dudes.

Anyway, this Buddha is RAD:

After lunch and Kamakura's special ice cream (purple potato flavored) we headed to the Hasedera temple.  Though not as sublime and serene as the first temple, this one has its own merits: beach views, a winding multi-caved cave, and a million tiny Buddhas.  Though I am admittedly claustrophobic, the series of "rooms" inside the cave, which were full of carvings, alters and statues was awesome.  And I only almost freaked out, like, one time.  Which, considering we couldn't stand up straight was pretty remarkable.

The last stop on our walk from one end of town to the other was the beach.  Kamakura is a well known surfing spot and the locals have become accordingly obsessed with all things Hawaiian.  There are hula schools, board shops, a taco stand, and plenty of grungy pick ups on display in tribute to prevailing surf culture.  Gnarly.

There are about a bazillion more temples and other important artifacts to see in Kamakura.  But it was nice to leave feeling like the town merited a return trip.  Plus, we learned a valuable lesson about day trip destinations.  To recap, a perfect day trip requires the following elements:

• Seats on the train in both directions
• A linear journey through the destination with no retrodden ground
• At least one specialty food item that doesn't make me ralph
• Something spiritual for learning but also very pretty for looking at
• Hiking that is hard enough to justify eating said specialty food but not so hard that we don't have enough energy left for spirituality
• Beaches
• Fake Hawaiian culture*

*optional

Spiders & Snakes & Garbage, Ome

I've been chipping away at my fear of snakes to ready/steady myself for our months in SE Asia.  We're going to be in jungles and we all know what lives there; I'm just going to have to man up and get in touch with my reptilian brain.  Thus far, the only milestone reached is to not shriek and change the channel when there is a snake on TV (see: Modern Family).  I figure if I can handle watching one on TV, my crippling terror when confronted with a giant dangerous live one in Cambodia will be a non-issue.  Right?

The reason I bring up the snake phobia is because this week, despite having read of slithery encounters along the trail, I put on my big girl pants and we went hiking in Ome, a bedroom community in far-west Tokyo.  As is tradition, we got lost in the woods because we didn't bring the GPS.  Like clockwork, seriously.  We had an awesome picnic lunch.  Then the gravelly 2 mile rolling loop we tried to follow (based on a hand drawn Japanese map) to see some temples and a view of Mt. Fuji turned into 3 hours of leisurely wandering followed by 1 hour of back hacking.

As is the case everywhere in Tokyo, post-picnic there was not a gd trash bin for miles.  Its as if these folks are allergic to disposal.  En route from picnic table to trail we passed playgrounds, parking areas and a ball field, and not one bin to toss our bento remains.  As Sue said after carrying an empty paper cup halfway across the city last week, 'I didn't know my coffee came with a side of albatross.'  We've since started calling it garbatross and unless we prepare ourselves to re-enact the stations of the cross in the woods, next time we'll eat before we get on the train.

It was with annoyance and mirin on my shorts that I began the descent through the woods with the trash caribined to my bag.  The first 1/4 of the trail was wide and well trodden.  But as we got lower, the trail got narrower and darker and veered off into the woods.  At which time the movie-prop sized spiderwebs were no longer scenery along the path, but tolls to be paid every 4 feet.

Ed feels similarly about spiders as I do about snakes (though he isn't a big fat baby about it), so I took the lead.  I selected a large branch/small felled tree from the ground and waved it out front as we hiked down.  The grass got tall and I got nervous, but the garbatross slapping against my leg made enough noise to scare an anaconda.  And thus we descended.
 

We walked through here as the sun was setting, defeated the spiders, and avoided the reptiles. 

And, when we got back into town, still had enough day light to see the spooky/best painted vintage movie posters sprinkled throughout the town.  Our team won this day.

 

 

 

 

Ulsanbawi Rock in Sokcho

Today we did one of the hardest hikes I've ever been on.  Ever.  The hike up to Ulsanbawi rock in Seoraksan national park is only about 3 km (Burgie knows conversions?) and the first half is really lulls you into thinking this is no bigs.  There are temples and restaurants nestled along the trail.  Lady cooks are churning out bibimbap and noodles with red pepper paste, the latter of which, as an aside, is my favorite Korean dish and which I've eaten no less than 7 times since entering this country AND which I ask Ed after every bowl if he thinks he will be able to replicate in America because oh my god if I can't have it anymore we're moving to Korea for good.  People look moderately fatigued and are drinking Soju (why not?) at picnic tables and you finish the first half and think, I do not know what all the hoopla is about, that was easy peasy lemon squeezy (2 points, England).  We can probably bang this thing out and have time for another hike this afternoon.

And then you get to a temple that was built in a cave in 652 - can you believe that people were building temples in caves in 652? - doesn't that just seem like infinitely so long ago that it can hardly be possible?  And there is a guy selling soft serve and camp kids throwing ice at each other and then you see a tiny wooden sign that reads "Ulsabawi Rock, 1km."  What the sign should say is "you are so screwed" or, better yet, "it'd be in your best interest to turn back here" because from there you basically climb steep metal stairs which change to steeper metal ladders along sheer rock face for 1 straight kilometer.

Unfortunately, today the fog got so bad that by the time we summited the big rock we didn't have any view.  That said, we were so excited to be at the top and sitting down, we barely cared. 

Here's a picture from the Korea tourism website, our own sweaty shots coming soon:

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

The terrain in Mongolia changes rapidly as you drive through it. You're staring out the window of a Mitsubishi Delica van. Bouncing over pot holes because you're stuck in the jump seat. Hours pass. Mongolian pop music changes from novel to grating. And outside turns from forest to prairie to steppe to bald-faced desert.

When the van finally abruptly stops and guide exclaims “we're here,” its hard to know what to do with yourself in the space available. What came naturally to Ed and me was climbing to the highest point of whatever was around. By day 3 some basic human need to be on top of the world, lookin' down on creation took hold and we found ourselves scurrying up rock faces, sand dunes, grassy mountains, and red cliffs. The views were great, but we climbed for the sake of it. Just so we could stand atop, panting, covered in dirt/sand/dust/bugs and feel like we'd conquered one tiny bit of the wild open. You know, like Genghis would have done.

And thus, a sampling of shit we climbed up:

(this last one looks super tame but was probably one of the hardest hikes we did - in Hustai national park.  its so ginormous that it looks flat, leading Ed and I to foolishly go "we can do that!"  blergh)

Delightful sidebar; we've both shed quite a bit of weight. Mongolian food is edible at best, you sweat like a gallon a day, and you exercise like you're at training for something. An enterprising soul (Oprah, can you hear me?) should start a fat camp here.

Possible names (help from Ed on these):

“Mutton & Muscles”

“Girls Gone Gobi”

“Thin Blue Sky”

“Yoga with Yaks”

“Skinny Nomads”