Inventing a Drink in Chile

Crossing the border at the desolate exit from the Avaroa Natural Reserve, we found a line of about 100 freezing tourists (the temperatures were well below freezing up here at over 14,000 feet, even though it was summertime in the Southern Hemisphere) and 20 Chilean buses.  You see, before leaving, you have to pay a small fee to the Bolivians (30 Bolivianos, or $5) and then you have to board a separate Chilean vehicle to take you onwards.  Our tour company had arranged for the Chilean transfer, found him for us, and then we were on our way.

Crossing into Chile, the earthen road immediately becomes a beautiful black pavement and you start your descent.  In 40 minutes, you are in the oasis town of San Pedro de Atacama, at about 8,000 feet, and about 80 degrees Fahrenheit.  Stumbling into our resort, the Tierra Atacama, Kathleen and I must have seemed like refugees.  We were wearing several unnecessary layers of clothing, and my suitcase had been killed along the way in Bolivia (both the wheels and the pull out handle were kaput) and I was just dragging its lifeless body behind me.

At Tierra Atacama, though, we were treated to another excellent level of service, fantastic meals, and excursions to local natural features (volcanoes, geysers, canyons, petroglyphs, etc.).  Our favorite, however, was horseback riding.

One of the vistas in the Atacama Desert, the driest place on earth.

This blog, though, is for me to tell stories of adventures and other forms of craziness.  I am sorry, but Chile failed you.  There was no craziness.  Just a wonderful, relaxing time.  The best story I have is about a drink I almost invented.  I was coming back from one of the excursions and decided I would like a ginger ale to calm my stomach, but I would also like pineapple juice, because I like pineapple juice.  So I sidled up to the free bar (the resort is all-inclusive), and said I wanted a drink that was 50% ginger ale and 50% pineapple juice.

Kathleen asked the bartender if anyone had ever ordered such a drink before.  He said no.  I said that if Arnold Palmer could stake his name to a 50/50 lemonade/ice tea, then the 50/50 ginger ale/pineapple juice would henceforth be known as the "Pete."  That evening, I added a shot of rum to the Pete (which probably would have been better if it were half a shot).

A meal at the Tierra.  There's a little left of my namesake drink in the frosted glass at the upper right.

Using Google, however, I found that someone had already invented the same drink.  Oh well.  Through the remainder of the stay, I continued to order the "Pete," and if you find yourself at the Tierra Atacama yourself, I encourage you to ask Tomas at the bar for a "Pete."

Once Kathleen and I calculated how much it would cost to move into the Tierra Atacama full-time, we realized we needed to go back to work, and reluctantly left after 3 nights for 1 night in Santiago (an impressive modern city with A+ infrastructure), and then back home to Chicago.  Now, if I can just find some pineapple juice here.

The Pete
6 ounces, ginger ale
6 ounces, pineapple juice
1/2 half shot of rum, optional

Honeymooning in Bolivia

I will grant you that Bolivia is not a typical honeymoon destination.  We wanted to go to Machu Picchu and we wanted to visit the Atacama Desert in northern Chile (# 2 on the New York Times' list of places to go in 2017), and guess what is right in the middle?  And when we saw photos of the Uyuni Salt Flats, we had to stop by.  As it turned out, Bolivia is so photogenic, we took far more photos in that country than we did in the other two.

I did not have great expectations for La Paz.  We only stayed one night, but were favorably impressed.  There is a new cable car ("Teleferico") system that connects the various neighborhoods.  It gives the visitor the equivalent of an amusement park ride over the city for just 50 US cents.

And we had dinner at Gustu, reputedly one of the best restaurants in South America, started by a Danish chef who is a 4-time restaurant of the year (worldwide) award winner back home in Copenhagen.  It is like dining at Alinea in Chicago for a fraction of the price.  In fact, everything was inexpensive in Bolivia, but once you are outside of the cities, be sure to have cash, because a lot of small stores do not take credit cards.

Llama fetus, anyone?

The old ways are not completely gone in La Paz.  We visited the Witches' Market and saw the llama fetuses for sale (apparently for use in potions).  We only saw one vendor with the fetuses, however, so perhaps the market for potion ingredients is drying up.

Then, it was on to Uyuni.  Our flights (both into La Paz and into Uyuni) were completely made up of tourists.  I doubt there were any Bolivians on either flight.  Now, Uyuni is a dusty town.  It is definitely not a typical honeymoon destination.  And, I have to admit, after nearly having my bank card swallowed by an ATM (and on a Sunday when I could get no one to help me), before prying it back into my possession, I was a little dubious.

The main drag in Uyuni.  Not Honeymoon Central, I think.  There's still a bit of the Wild West here.  Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid spent their last days in a similar town just down the road.

But then it was on with a great tour group to the salt flats, and in the following days, the Avaroa Natural Reserve.  There are photo ops everywhere, particularly on the salt flats.  Beware that accommodations are sparse, particularly in the Reserve, where we stayed in a hostel for one night without an electrical outlet (or lock) in our room and with shared bathrooms that were, let's say, below standard.  But when you can get photos like these, you will still have the time of your lives:

Just How Many Copies Do You Need? (a Bolivian border story)

There's a lot of conflicting information on the internet about whether Americans need to obtain a visa to enter Bolivia prior to arrival.  When I was planning this trip 6 months ago, it appeared that Americans could obtain their visas at the La Paz airport for $160 each.  A little pricey, but OK.

One week before departure, I saw that someone on a TripAdvisor forum had been informed by the Bolivian embassy in the US that this was no longer an option.  In fact, by this point, Bolivia was listing the good ol' US of A in the same category as North Korea and Afghanistan for visa requirements.  In fairness to them, I am sure our authorities require a lot of paperwork from Bolivians looking to enter the US, but this categorization (potentially a result of presidential politics) seemed a bit much.  Unfortunately, by this point, if the information on the internet was even true, I could no longer send in our passports to the Bolivian embassy in D.C. and get them back in time.  Fortunately, we had a free day coming up in Cusco, Peru, which happens to host a Bolivian consulate of its own.  So we decided to play it safe and try to get the visas before we arrived in Bolivia.

A few days before departure, I submitted all the necessary paperwork online at the Bolivian embassy's website (itinerary information, photos, financial information to prove we are solvent).  On our free day in Cusco, we contracted for a driver to take us from our hotel to the Bolivian consulate, wait for us, and take us back.  And then, hilarity ensued.

We arrived to find about 12-15 people, mostly tourists from China and Korea, in front of us.  It would take about 1 hour for us to get to the front of the line as the lone consular official worked his way through everyone's paperwork.  Meanwhile, I told our driver to feel free to pick up another fare and come back for us, which he did.

When we made it to the front of the line, the official immediately said that Kathleen's passport photo was not sufficiently front-facing (for the record, we disagree) and she would need a new photo.  Turning to the paperwork, I helpfully handed him a paper copy of everything I had submitted online, which he examined and noted approvingly.  Then he asked me, "Where is her copy?"  I said, her information is the same as mine, and it was all submitted online, so my copy was her copy.  Looking directly past the photocopier he had in front of him, he instructed us to go to a copy shop and get another paper copy that could be submitted with Kathleen's application.  As I processed this instruction, he also said something about paying the $320 for the two of us.  As I had the cash with me, I did not pay that much attention.

There are not exactly Kinko's on every corner in Cusco, but our driver took us to a little rundown tienda that charged 10 Peruvian cents (3 American cents) per copy and we returned to the consulate to see another 10-15 people in front of us.  The official motioned to move us ahead of most of the people and we waited for a group of Chinese tourists immediately in front of us.  There was something wrong with their application and he was telling them to re-do it and return in an hour.  At this point, one of the tourists was not taking "no" for an answer and peppered the official with questions.  After about 20 seconds of this, the official banged his hand on the table and started shouting at him "Ciao, bye-bye," and variants in several languages.  Great - we were up next!

I handed him the extra copies and then the $320 in cash, only for him to say, "No!  You were supposed to take that money to the bank."  I guess I had been so bothered by the whole extra-copy situation that I did not catch him tell me that earlier that morning.  So our driver took us to a branch of a bank where the Bolivian consulate had an account.  After about 45 minutes of line-waiting, we paid the teller our $320 and gave them the Bolivians' bank account number.  Then, back to the consulate again.

As we arrived for attempt # 3, the consular official was telling everyone that he had to go eat lunch and everyone should wait in line for an hour.  As he was walking out, I showed him our bank receipt and he said, "Oh, the Americans."  He ushered us back in, completely forgot about Kathleen's "inadequate" photo, and issued us visas.

A few days later, we got to the Cusco airport and I asked our airline gate agent if he thought Americans could still get visas on arrival at the La Paz airport.  He said we could.  You could then surmise that our 3 hours in bureaucratic limbo were a waste of time.  No - we would say we got a good story out of it.  (And I didn't see the visa-on-arrival desk at the La Paz airport anyway, though I wasn't really looking for it.)

Although this story was about our entry into Bolivia, this picture is of the desolate border crossing with Chile in the Avaroa Natural Reserve, from where we left Bolivia.

What We Have Here Is a Situation Where Six Lanes Are Merging into Two

I really like to drive, but I am very happy I was never behind the wheel during this trip.  The traffic we experienced in Peru and Bolivia was often chaotic and, particularly once we were out of the cities, there seemed to be no one enforcing any traffic laws or speed limits.

We had a bit of a taste of what was to come when, about 10 minutes after leaving the Lima airport, we suddenly experienced a traffic jam.  Kathleen asked our driver/guide what was going on and he memorably responded, "What we have here is a situation where six lanes are merging into two."  OK, that'll do it.

From Cusco, we took a tour on one day to see various sights in the Sacred Valley, and on another day, to Machu Picchu.  I don't think I have ever seen such aggressive tour bus drivers, nor have I ever spent that much time in a bus that was doing that much passing (sometimes without regard to the solid yellow line down the middle of the road).

Best of all, though, was what awaited us in La Paz.  On our way to the airport as we were leaving town, we encountered a traffic jam.  It appeared that there had either been an accident or a very close-call about 30 yards in front of us.  We could see a truck driver arguing with a van driver, when the truck driver exited his vehicle and knocked the van driver's mirror right off with his fist.  At this point, our taxi driver got out of our car and I assumed he was going to helpfully direct traffic.  Nope.  He decided to offer his own two cents on the situation to the already aggrieved drivers.  I was not too pleased with this turn of events.

Eventually, after exchanging some particularly choice words with the truck driver, he returned to our car and we slowly moved forward.  As we approached what had been the scene of the incident, I realized that there was traffic moving opposite us on our left and on our right.  I have never been in a car where I could see the lanes on both sides of us moving in the opposite direction.  I don't think that was how the La Paz traffic planners had drawn this up and can only assume we were going the wrong way, but then so was everyone else in our lane.  Very strange.

Some Things Are Still Worth Seeing in Person

Our honeymoon began in Peru.  Rather than sit out a 7-hour layover at the Lima airport, we hired a driver from Lima Cabs in advance to give us an informative tour of the city.  We began in the old part of Lima, where we walked around Plaza San Martin.  We missed the protests against the pardon of ex-president Fujimori and the police tear gas which occurred in the same space 2 days later.  As they say, timing is everything.  Then, it was on to the Plaza de Armas and seeing some saints' skulls in a nearby church before heading to the upscale part of town, Miraflores, watching the surfers in the Pacific, and then making our way back to the airport.

After a hilarious Benny Hill-esque situation where the Lima Airport changed our gate 3 times in about 10 minutes, leading to a long line of people running from gate to gate, only to reverse themselves and run in the opposite direction, we boarded our flight to the southern city of Arequipa, which has a beautiful Plaza de Armas.  From there, we boarded the Belmond Andean Explorer train for two nights on our way to Cusco.

One of the dining cars aboard the Belmond Andean Explorer.

The Belmond Andean Explorer provides a great experience, with absolutely phenomenal service, great meals, and some stops for excursions on land.  On the route from Arequipa to Cusco, the train is moving during the first night.  In Europe (where I have slept on trains overnight) or America, that might not be a problem, but these rails are rougher, and the motion made it very hard to sleep for many of the passengers.  And, as this was our first night dealing with the altitude, we both required extra oxygen, which is available in the cabins.  Thus, my recommendation would be to take the route from Cusco to Arequipa, where the train stops both nights.

In any event, we highly recommend the train.  And I learned a lesson that served me well on the trip.  By discretely mentioning to the staff that this was our honeymoon, we were gifted the first of three bottles of champagne over the two weeks.

On our first full day on the train, we stopped at Lake Titicaca and boarded a boat to see the strange world of the Uros Islands, which are man-made islands of reeds inhabited by the Uros people for centuries.  After explaining to us the very laborious and complicated process used to make these islands (which house about 5-10 huts each -- and about 2,700 people in total), I pulled our guide aside and asked a question I didn't feel comfortable asking the islanders for fear of offending anybody: "Uh, why don't they just live in town?"  Apparently, it's all about evading property taxes.

The Uros Islands.  There's a woman on a cellphone in the boat in the left background.

The islanders live a simple life and sell their weavings and ceramics to tourists.  The best salespeople are the small children, as it's very hard to turn them down, and we did indeed return with a little boy's drawing.  At one point, Kathleen turned to me and asked if I thought any of them even knew who Donald Trump was.  The answer is probably no, giving us reason to admire the simplicity of their lives.  As I found in Bhutan a few years ago, however, modernity, as it always does, is creeping in.  I noticed a local woman in a boat on a cellphone.

Once in Cusco, we visited the Sacred Valley, and, eventually, the holy grail of Peruvian tourism, Machu Picchu.  I had wondered whether, after seeing photos of it hundreds of times, Machu Picchu could still be worth it.  Had I already seen everything there was to see on other people's Facebook feeds, YouTube, and, I assume, an Anthony Bourdain travel show?  But yes, it still has the power to take our breath away, and we spent hours just wandering around on our own, admiring the location and the ingenuity of the people who built it.

You have probably seen a photo like this before.  The difference is, I took this one.

The Best of Budapest, Vienna, and Prague

This year's vacation was to a troika of central European cities: Budapest, Vienna, and Prague.  They're a few hours apart by train, share some common history, and each is worth a few days, but none is really worth an entire vacation by itself.  In a nutshell, Budapest is cool and cheap, Vienna is refined and historic, and Prague is photogenic and romantic.

Here are some basics on what to do in each city:

Budapest
Must visit: a ruin pub for an only-in-Budapest moment and Castle Hill for the stunning views
If you have time: an authentic Hungarian spa
Pleasant surprise: great subway system; low, low prices
Feel free to avoid: Great Market Hall was a bit "meh" for us

From Buda, looking at Pest.

Vienna
Must visit: Schonbrunn Palace for the gardens; Hofburg Palace for the history; walk along Karntner Strasse
If you have time: go to the opera or a classical concert -- it's OK, you're in Vienna
Pleasant surprise: relaxing at a cafe with a dessert and a newspaper
Feel free to avoid: unless you're a devotee, the Sigmund Freud Museum

Try the maze in the Schonbrunn gardens, but budget 20 minutes to find the exit!

Prague
Must visit: Prague Castle; Old Town Square (beware the crowds)
If you have time: a day trip to Kutna Hora or Cesky Krumlov
Pleasant surprise: St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague Castle won the prize for "best church on this trip"
Feel free to avoid: We got to the "famous" astronomical clock in Old Town Square a few seconds after the top of the hour and we had already missed whatever there was to see.

The view from Prague Castle.

Tips for your Central European Trip

Here are some random tips based on our experiences:

1.  The Subway Police.  Each of the cities relies on an honor system for subway riders.  Budapest seemed the most interested in actually verifying how honorable you are.  At some stations, subway employees made sure you validated your ticket before getting on the escalator down to the tracks, and at one station, we were stopped and asked to produce our tickets.  They did not appear as vigilant in Vienna and Prague, but you shouldn't test that.

2.  Follow the "No Photo" Instructions.  Plenty of historic sites have rules about not taking photos, but the soldiers guarding St. Stephen's crown at the Hungarian Parliament were quite serious about it, as one of the people on our tour found out.  Too bad one of those guys' predecessors several centuries ago didn't take their job quite as seriously.  The crown was dropped and the cross on the top is bent at a 30-degree angle.

3.  Reserve Train Seats for Long Journeys.  We bought our Budapest to Vienna and our Vienna to Prague tickets online at the Austrian Railways' website.  They were less than half the cost of buying them from Rail Europe, which is a more American-user friendly website.  We were sure to reserve our seats, which is a good thing, because the train to Vienna was relatively full and across the aisle from us was a couple who hadn't reserved their seats, had to give up the seats they had claimed to their rightful owners, and then were trying to figure out what to do with only minutes to spare before the train left.

4.  Sharing a Table.  When you have a chance, share a table.  We went to one popular Vienna restaurant for dinner without a reservation and were waiting with 2 engineers in town on business who were in the same situation.  The hostess had a 4-person table and offered it to us.  We ended up having one of the best conversations of the trip.  One engineer was from Norway and the other from Germany and they were very interested in American politics.  I don't know what impressions those gentlemen had about Americans before the dinner, but if they had any unpleasant stereotypes, I'm confident they were dispelled by the end.

5.  Tipping.  Each city goes by a 10% rule-of-thumb, but at many restaurants, you cannot add the tip to your credit card bill, and instead need to pay any tip in cash.

6.  The Prague Metro.  Upon arriving at Prague's train station, we searched in vain for the sign for the entrance to the Metro, only to later find that it was this:

See the M?  Sure you do, now that I told you about it.

I had seen this sign, but merely thought it was a down arrow; I completely missed the letter "M" hidden at the top of the logo.  In the same way, I must have seen the FedEx logo for about 15 years before some pointed out to me that there's an arrow hidden in it.  (See for yourself -- it's between the E and the X!)

7.  Paying for Pretzels.  In Wenceslas Square in modern downtown Prague, we were away from the Old Town, and I thought we would also be away from any tourist-trap restaurants.  We saw a restaurant advertising "Authentic Czech Cuisine" and found a table.  The fact that the sign was in English should have been a clue, but we were pretty tired by that point.  Anyway, they had a cover charge for sitting down for a meal (in fine print on the back of the menu) and even charged us for each little pretzel we ate (which we had thought were just offered gratis).  Oh well.

Pretzels on the table?  Thank you.  How many did we eat?  2.  That'll be $4.

8.  Walking.  We averaged about 20,000 steps a day (10 miles, give or take), so by all means, wear comfortable shoes!

The Ruin Pubs of Budapest

One unique feature of Budapest is the ruin pub.  In recent decades, some entrepreneurs have taken old abandoned buildings (some since the time of WW2) and turned them into bars and nightclubs, all while maintaining a degree of cool dilapidation.  One of the most popular Budapest ruin pubs is Szimpla Kert, and it was a few blocks from our hotel and far from the more modern parts of the city.  After receiving a highly enthusiastic recommendation from our hotel concierge, we arrived after 8 PM on a Monday night and it was bustling.  It appeared to be 2 buildings and the roof was missing in parts.  Inside was a warren of little rooms where you could relax on a sofa, sit at a table of your choosing, or even in the back of an old Hungarian car.  Everywhere you looked, there was graffiti or art of one sort or another.  I'm not sure this place would pass an American health code, but the food was good.

I was concerned that it would be a little touristy -- and it probably is -- but I didn't hear a lot of English being spoken.  There were clearly locals there and the average patron's age was probably 25 (it was dark, so I still fit in).  Anyway, we had a good meal and I wanted to try the palinka -- Hungarian fruit brandy.  I walked up to a decidedly unimpressed female bartender and looked at the chalkboard with about 10 kinds of palinka.  I confidently ordered the first plum version on the menu, trying to pronounce it correctly in Hungarian.  She looked blankly at me and the following conversation ensued:

"What did you want?" she asked.
I said it again.
She asked me again.
And I said it again.
And then she asked, "Why do you want that?"
"Uh, I like plums?" (My confidence was waning at this point.)
"That's the worst.  You should try this [other kind of plum palinka]."

I wasn't thinking quickly enough to ask why they would serve something that she thought was so terrible, but in any event, the prices were the same, so I went with her selection.  Maybe she was angling for a tip because she was "saving" me from my terrible selection.  Anyway, the palinka was 100 proof and I don't really feel the need to try it again, though you should try it once.  And in case you get the same bartender, order the second plum palinka on the menu, not the first.

Here's the upstairs terrace connecting 2 buildings at Szimpla Kert.  You can see the various rooms along the sides.

Trigger Warning!

OK, if you're skittish about skeletons, mummies, and the like, you should stop reading now.





Still with us?  Of course you are.  On two occasions on this trip, we came in relatively close contact with some things you just don't see on this side of the Atlantic.

At St. Stephen's Basilica in Budapest, you will see a lovely church, but if you go into the little room to the left of the altar, you can also see a mummified hand.  And not just anyone's mummified hand, but St. Stephen's himself.  The hand looked, well, a little small, but I'm sure that just has something to do with the mummification process.  Meanwhile, I was jostled by enough people who were trying to get up close for a photo with the hand (which is behind glass, of course) that I wasn't sure what was more grotesque: the hand or the tourists!

Later, while in Prague, we took a half-day trip to Kutna Hora.  It's an hour's train-ride to the east.  It was good to get out of the big city and see a Czech town.  But we were really there for the bones.  In the 1300s, Kutna Hora was a rival to Prague, made rich off of its silver mine.  An enterprising monk returned to Kutna Hora with soil from Jerusalem and spread it at the local cemetery.  As a result, tens of thousands of people wanted to be buried there.  Years later, someone decided it would be a good idea to arrange the bones of some 40,000 people in the Sedlec ossuary.  Personally, I don't know whether it was a good idea, but it does bring the tourists.

If you go to Kutna Hora, I recommend getting a round-trip ticket from Prague to Kutna Hora-mesto.  You will switch trains at Kutna Hora's main train station (which is outside of town) and board the little train into town.  Get off at the Sedlec station for the ossuary (you really only need about 10 minutes there) and the "mesto" station for the main town, where you can go down into the silver mine (beware, tickets sold out by 1:30 PM on our visit) and St. Barbara's Cathedral.

Scroll down, if you want to see the photos ...

St. Stephen's hand in Budapest.

Some of the bones on display in Kutna Hora.

The Language Barrier

I don't want to be the stereotypical ugly American tourist.  I cringe whenever a team on The Amazing Race bitterly complains about a 3rd World taxi driver who can't speak English.  Therefore, I've always tried to learn a handful of basic words and phrases when I visit a country.  It's just the polite thing to do.  Sometimes, it's led to some funny stories.

When I was 24 and coming back from a vacation in Iceland, I ordered a specific Icelandic beer from the Icelandair flight attendant, said please, and thank you, and did it all in Icelandic.  She then started speaking to me in Icelandic, even though I look decidedly un-Icelandic.  It was one of the proudest moments of my life.

In Florence a few years later, I checked into a 2-star hotel and engaged in some very simple small talk with the desk clerk.  30 minutes later, the phone in my room rang.  It turns out the desk clerk really thought I could speak Italian and was calling to ask me to translate an incoming call from England for him.

Working for 6 months in France in 2008, I learned to read French fairly well, but conversations were always a problem.  The words just flow together so quickly in French, I had a very hard time keeping up.  And when I spoke French, at first, people would respond in English.  Later though, when people responded to me in French, I knew I was getting somewhere.  And then there was the time American tourists tried speaking to me in broken French.  I was really blending in at that point.

On this trip, we had 3 languages in 3 cities.  Of course, most people a tourist deals with speaks some English, but we wanted to make a good impression.  Fortunately, Kathleen speaks some German and did a great job with it.  But there was one museum cafe employee in Budapest we could not charm.  We were looking for the cloakroom and Kathleen asked her if she spoke English.  "Do you speak Hungarian?" was the rather coarse reply.  Well, wouldn't we have started in Hungarian if the answer was "yes?"  Anyway, we found the reaction more funny than off-putting, no matter how it was intended.

Miscellaneous Travel Tips for Bhutan

1.  There are stray dogs everywhere, but they’re all friendly.  During the daytime, they laze about and don't bother anyone.  I was warned in advance that their barking could be a nuisance at night, but my hotel in Thimphu was a little bit outside downtown and I could barely hear them.  In Paro, though, they woke me up at 3:30.  I don’t know if the Bhutanese people are the happiest in the world, but their dogs may well be.

2.  I was surprised by how warm it was in October.  In Thimphu (elev. 7,000 feet), the day may start out in the upper 30s, but before long, it would get into the mid-70s.  In Punakha (which is at a lower elevation), it was well into the mid-80s Fahrenheit.  On a side note, despite Thimphu’s elevation, I was told it rarely snows there anymore, and when it does, it melts within a day.  My guide and driver both said this has been a big change over the last 20 years.

It's downright tropical in the Punakha Valley in October.

3.  Your tour operator will take care of getting your visa.  Mine was obtained in about 3 days, which helped because I only planned this trip on 17 days’ notice.  One remarkable thing: my visa restricted my travel to the specific places that were on my tour itinerary (which I chose in advance).  I was never given a satisfactory explanation for why this was necessary.  We were even stopped between Thimphu and Punakha and had to show my papers to demonstrate that I was allowed in that particular part of the country.

Thimphu's traffic policeman (there are no traffic lights) did not ask to see my visa -- even though it looks like he's pointing at me.

4.  If I have to report one drawback about a visit to Bhutan, I’m sorry to say that it is the cuisine.  Every lunch and dinner, I would be served roughly the same set of items, which got old pretty quickly.  In general, the vegetarian dishes are better than the meat options.  The Bhutanese love chili peppers, and they’re everywhere, so the food is pretty spicy.  Restaurants designed for tourists specialize in less hot versions of Bhutanese dishes.

5.  Flying into the country on the national carrier Drukair (or its new private competitor, Bhutan Airways), ask for a seat on the left-hand side for the best view of the Himalayas.  Obviously the reverse is true on your flight out.  Only a handful of pilots are qualified to land at Paro Airport and this video of the serpentine landing approach has over 5 million views.  While certainly dramatic, it felt completely safe.

In the Pursuit of Happiness

As I mentioned earlier, the Bhutanese government promotes the concept of Gross National Happiness (“GNH”).  I loved the idea, but I was a bit skeptical.  Were the people really happy?  How do you measure it?  Is this just something for the travel brochures?

Women working in a rice field near Punakha.

There are several pillars of GNH, such as preservation of culture, the environment, good government.  There is free education and free health care.  Bhutan is relatively prosperous for the region it’s in.  The rivers rushing out of the Himalayas create a lot of hydroelectric power that is sold to India.  And while there certainly is poverty here (though no one begs), the country is seemingly doing fairly well.

From the reactions I received, people had nothing but very positive things to say about America.  (As an aside, one local said she thought I was Argentinian - which was definitely a first.)  I asked my guide and my driver about what the Bhutanese think of America.  They said that many want to live in America – that it is seen as a place where one can earn a lot of money, while for the same amount of work in Bhutan, you earn little money.

And, in that moment, the irony was obvious.  Americans come to Bhutan looking for happiness – finding seclusion (and maybe, for some, enlightenment) and immersing oneself in a culture renowned for friendliness and the promotion of the values that really matter in life.  On the other hand, the Bhutanese look to America for happiness, which is equated with money.  In truth, as any half-way decent Buddhist should tell you, happiness can only be found within ourselves.

Bhutanese Lore

Every day on my trip, there has been another dzong (fortress), another monastery, another temple.  And at many of them, there are tales of various miracles and supernatural happenings.  Here are a few of my favorites:

1.  The Guru Rinpoche.  The # 1 tourist attraction in Bhutan is the Tiger’s Nest Monastery, built about 800 meters above the Paro Valley.  It commemorates the site where Guru Rinpoche supposedly flew on the back of a flying tiger to subdue a local demon in the 8th Century.  He then meditated in a cave there for 3 months and subsequently introduced Buddhism to Bhutan.  Unfortunately on the day of my hike, there were no flying tigers available.  The hike took me 1:45.  If you visit the Tiger’s Nest, you are said to be guaranteed to see the Guru in the afterlife, where he will help relieve you from suffering.  In another room at the Tiger’s Nest is the statue of a “talking” Buddha that supposedly spoke on a few occasions a few centuries ago.  And, by visiting the statue, your wishes will be granted.

The Tiger's Nest.  No pictures allowed inside.

The Tiger’s Nest was destroyed by fire about 20 years ago (as many historic buildings in Bhutan were at one time or another), so what you see is a new structure.  But, supposedly, the building was re-built with the help and supervision of a young boy who proved himself to be the reincarnation of the original architect.  Yes, that happened in the 21st Century.

And now, looking up at the Tiger's Nest from the start of the hike.

2.  The Divine Madman.  Near Punakha, there’s a temple and monastery dedicated to the Divine Madman, who in the 16^th Century, shot an arrow into the sky in Tibet and supposedly followed it to its landing place in a house in Bhutan, where he became a travelling mystic.  Most famously, he subdued a demon with the power of his fiery thunderbolt (I’m giving you the G-rated version).  Many homes in the region have phalluses painted on the outside in his honor.  The Divine Madman challenged the conventions of the time & also appreciated a good drink.  At his temple, I was blessed by the monk and noticed that, at the altar, someone had left a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red as an offering.

3.  The Shabdrung.  This story is real, but it’s still a good one.  The Shabdrung was the founder of the modern Bhutanese state in the 17^th century.  While in his 50s, he went into “retreat” inside a room in the Punakha Dzong.  Every day, in case someone was watching, an attendant brought the Shabdrung his 3 meals.  In fact, though, the Shabdrung was dead.  The leadership feared there would be chaos if people knew he had passed away, so they kept this story up for 54 years and issued edicts in his name.  It was the ultimate Weekend at Bernie’s.  Finally, when the Shabdrung would have been 111 years old, they either figured the gig was up or that the country could survive without him.  Today, the room in which he died (and where his embalmed remains are in a coffin) can only be visited by 3 people: the king, the chief abbot, and the room’s attendant.

The building inside the Punakha Dzong where people were led to believe the Shabdrung "lived" until he was 111.  The entire building is off-limits.

My terrific guide through the country would tell me all of these stories and many more.  He is a devout Buddhist and gave every impression of believing that these things all actually happened, but he never asked me what I thought about all of this.  Finally, at the National Museum in Paro near the end of the trip, he showed me one of the exhibits: an egg that was supposedly laid by a horse several centuries ago.  For the first and only time during our travels, he asked me if I believed that had happened.  I smiled & replied, “A horse laid an egg?  That I cannot believe.”

Inconvenience Regretted

One of the hardest working people in Bhutan has to be the individual responsible for the pithy public service announcement billboards on the highway between Paro and Thimphu.  Most are in couplet form and most attempt to rhyme (but don’t always succeed).  I noticed the following:

Eager to Last / Then Why Fast

Let’s Go Green / To Get Our Globe Clean

Enemies of the Road / Liquor, Speed and Load

Some don’t really work:

Don’t Litter / It Will Make Your Life Better

Pleasure Only / If You Drive with Leisure

Some don’t even attempt to rhyme:

If You Are Married / Divorce Speed

Driving and Drinking / A Fatal Cocktail

And one didn’t even make sense:

Self Trust / Is the Essence of Heroism

There was a different sign that I enjoyed most of all.  In areas of road construction, there was a simple sign saying “Inconvenience Regretted.”  I don’t why, but I loved it.  I want to make a replica and hang it in my office.

A sincere message from the Bhutanese Transportation Authority, and from me as well.

And driving around Bhutan, there are some inconveniences.  From Thimphu to Punakha on Bhutan’s National Highway is about 50 miles.  The drive takes 3 hours.  It’s through breathtaking mountain scenery, so I seriously did not mind, but they are in the midst of a multi-year project to widen the road from its current 1/1.5 lanes to 2.  And forget shoulders.  There are rarely guardrails, even though you could be looking down at a 250 foot drop.  Because there are no highways that can serve as detour routes, they’re widening the road as you drive along, and you frequently have to wait for the heavy equipment to get out of the way.  In some places there’s no heavy equipment, just people (men and occasionally women) using pickaxes.  In other places, the road is a muddy mess.  I’m no expert, but I can’t recommend driving on this road during the summer monsoon season or inclement weather.

Pausing while they work to widen the road between Thimphu and Punakha.

Bhutan on $270/Day

One of the most unique aspects of visiting Bhutan is what it takes to get here.  You have to pay a set fee for every day you’re in the country.  At this time of year (high season), it’s $230, or $270 for the solo traveler.  That sounds like a lot of money, and I don’t deny that it is.  But you get a lot for that money.  My $270/day paid for a driver, tour guide, hotel, food (but not drink) and entrance fees to historical sites.  You can pay more to stay at nicer hotels.  For example, my accommodations were probably slightly below the level of an American Motel 6, though they each had a restaurant.  I doubt that more than $40 of my $270 daily fee went to the hotels.  You can pay as much as $1,000 a night at luxury hotels like the Aman chain, which has several locations near the most popular Bhutanese tourist destinations.  But the day I pay $1000 for a night in a hotel is the day … well, that’s just not going to happen.

And it is mandatory to have a driver and tour guide.  Non-Indian or Bangladeshi citizens cannot be unaccompanied.  I’m not sure whether this is a jobs program for the local citizenry, a way to prevent Westerners from harming the natural environment or the local culture, or simply a way to price Bhutan out of range for the $20/day backpackers you find throughout Southeast Asia.

I would add that Bhutan is particularly good for the solo traveler.  For example, 2 people traveling together would pay $460/day for the same driver, tour guide, and hotel room (though obviously they’d get more food!).  Double that for a family of 4.  For the solo traveler, $270/day is a relative bargain. 

The daily $270 fee covers a lot, but if you want this dried fish from India at the Thimphu Weekend Market, you'll have to pay extra.

And while I’m not really qualified to comment, I think Bhutan should be a good destination for female solo travelers.  I have met several along the way.  Bhutan has a surprisingly large police presence in the cities (another jobs program perhaps?) and the crime rate is very low.

How I Met Your Queen Mother

On Day 2 in country, I made my way to Dochu La Pass (approx. elevation 10,000 feet).  I left my guide for about 30 minutes to explore.  There’s a monument to Bhutanese soldiers lost in battling Indian extremists who were seeking refuge in Bhutan in the early 2000s.  There’s also a new temple atop a hill.  I walked up towards the temple and came to a wide set of stairs.  There were a few monks burning incense and some civil servants looking on.  I thought this was a little strange, but no one said anything to me, so I started climbing the 30-40 stairs.

I was almost at the top when I heard someone yelling at me.  I looked down and one of the civil servants was pointing at me and then pointing at the bottom of the stairs.  I turned around and got down as quickly as I could.  He told me that they were expecting the Queen Mother shortly and asked me to please wait to the side.

Before I continue, first a word about the Bhutanese royal family.  About 10 years ago, the king (who, by all accounts, was revered) decided that Bhutan should become a democracy.  And rather than being a formerly all-powerful king sitting around while there's a newly empowered parliament, the middle-aged king decided to abdicate the throne to his son.  The son and his wife (who happen to be perhaps the most photogenic royal couple in the world) now operate in roles akin to the British royal family.

A giant poster of the smiling young current royal couple greets you upon deplaning.

The current king’s mother (and obviously, the former queen) is about 50 years old.  She’s one of the former king’s 4 wives, all sisters.  (I smell a reality show …)  Unsure of all of the royal protocols, I now awaited her arrival with the handful of monks and civil servants.  I was not dressed as appropriately as I would like for an audience with royalty, but I removed my sunglasses and put my hands behind my back.

I was asked to move once more and then the motorcade approached.  First came an Army jeep with several soldiers.  Then came the Queen Mother’s car (license plate: “Bhutan 5”).  Finally came another vehicle driven by a soldier and a camera crew jumped out.  The Queen Mother’s car door was about 10 feet away from me.  I was the only tourist there with these monks and officials.  I could see she was on her phone and then one of the soldiers asked me to move another 5 feet away.  I did and she exited her car wearing an elegant kira (the Bhutanese dress).  She looked right at me, smiled, and said something.  I couldn’t understand what she said, but I didn’t think I should approach her to shake her hand or ask for a selfie, so I just smiled, nodded, and bowed my head.  She turned and went up the stairs.  I snapped a photo when I was sure that no one in her retinue was looking.

The Queen Mother and her retinue after our meeting.

I waited about 5 minutes and then went up the stairs myself.  There was a red carpet laid out for the Queen Mother and I decided I probably shouldn’t step on it, so I stepped over it.  I could not enter the temple during her visit, so I walked around, and saw some staff setting up tea service behind the temple.  I then walked down, found my amazed guide, and told him that the Queen Mother had just said something to me.  He told me that the temple I was visiting had been built by her for the protection and health of her son, the king.  And since my moment was caught by the camera crew, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was in the background on the Bhutanese Evening News.

The Boy Monk and the Videogame

I’ve wanted to go to Bhutan for a long time, and it’s the main stop on my 2015 vacation (a/k/a “The Lengths to Which I Will Go to Get Away from Work E-mail”).  Why Bhutan?  It’s “The Last Shangri-la,” the Land of the Thunder Dragon, and a mystical Bhuddist kingdom in the Himalayas (pop. 700,000) where the government promotes Gross National Happiness as a better measurement than Gross National Product.  And it’s a place that was never colonized, didn’t introduce currency until 1970, television until 1999, and only in recent decades has opened up to the outside world.  But change is here.  Spend some time in the capital Thimphu and it seems almost everyone has a car now.  In a way, there’s a certain urgency to visiting Bhutan.  Visit now, people say, before it changes forever. 

On my first day in country, my guide took me to the massive dzong (fortress) in Thimphu.  In modern times, dzongs form a dual function as both the home of the regional government and centers of monastic life.  There are certain areas that are off-limits to visitors and others that you cannot photograph.  One of the latter is the assembly hall or “throne room” where there are thrones for the king, his father, and the chief abbot (sort of the pope of Bhutanese Buddhism).  Behind the thrones are massive gold statutes of Buddha and various figures from Bhutanese history and Buddhist tradition.  Along the walls are more statues and colorful paintings from the life of Buddha.  The roof and pillars contain intricate patterns and engravings.  

In the room itself, the only souls present were my guide, myself, and a young monk who looked as though he might be 10 years old.  He wore the red monastic robe, had a shaved head, and was playing a videogame on his phone. 

So there, in one of the inner sanctums of Bhutanese tradition, was evidence that yes, Bhutan has changed.

The courtyard and some of the buildings inside the dzong (fortress) in Thimphu.

Frankly, I wasn't happy to see modernity in this ancient place.  But was I too judgmental?  To live, if done properly, is to change.  I’ve never been one to fear change.  It is a fact of life.  And the tourist’s interests may be at odds with the local population.  Take Cuba as an example.  I’ve heard plenty of people in the last 6 months say they need to go to Cuba before it changes.  By all means, go.  But don’t lament the fact that Cuba is changing.  Yes, some old buildings in Havana will be torn down for Marriotts and McDonald’s, and the 60-year old Chevys may get replaced by Mazdas.  But what is charming and picturesque to the tourist may be depressing and backwards for the person who has to live there 24/7/365.  You try spending your life in a building that’s falling apart or depending on a 1958 automobile for your daily transportation.

So, back to the boy monk.  The Bhutan I’m seeing this week is, for the moment, retaining its traditions.  About half of the people still wear traditional dress and the government is working overtime to promote traditional culture.  The architecture, the temples, the food, the friendliness, the mystical beliefs -- they're all still here.  Should we begrudge the kid his videogame?  I can’t really.  Kids like videogames.  But I do fear that in that moment I saw the future.  Maybe it’s generations off, but it’s hard to imagine this culture retaining its incredible uniqueness forever.  Western culture has a pretty much undefeated record so far.  And as much as I believe in change and progress, we don’t want a world where everyone is the same.  For now, Bhutan is blessedly a nation where maybe nobody knows who the Kardashians are.  I hope that never changes and that our two disparate cultures find a way to co-exist.  It could happen.  Bhutan is trying.

Proof That There Are Too Many Celebrities

On my way home, I stopped at the Hudson's (it's Australian for "Starbucks") at the Brisbane Airport and realized I was standing in line next to reality TV personality Kendra Wilkinson.  I wasn't positive until the barista asked for her name and her dad answered with "Wilkinson."  By the time we got to our gate, people started to figure it out.  If I appear in any tabloid photos, know that my presence in those photos was just a coincidence.

This year alone, I have walked past Al Roker and later Joy Behar on the same day in different cities, sat on a plane directly behind Hulk Hogan, rode in an elevator with Sheryl Crow's band, and seen NBA players and coaches from multiple teams at a hotel I lived in for 4 weeks.  And I didn't even spend any time in L.A. or N.Y. this year.  When the celebrity to normal person ratio is getting this high, there are clearly too many celebrities.

And on that note, this year's Big Trip comes to a close.

Cairns & the Reef

My trip ended in Cairns, Queensland, Australia -- the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef and a popular tourist destination.  It's just a hop, skip, and a jump from New Guinea, and you can't go all the way to New Guinea and not see the Reef.  I only had 2 full days here, so apart from the obvious trip to the Reef, I chose to spend my other day rafting on the Tully River.  Most visitors choose a side-trip to Kuranda via a scenic railway and/or cable car that offers views of Australia's tropical rainforest.  Since I had seen plenty of rainforest in New Guinea (and in Ecuador last year), I opted out.

This entry will be brief because there isn't too much to say.  There are plenty of tour operators that will take you out to the Reef and offer snorkeling, scuba, and semi-submersible options.  Rafting the Tully was even more fun, but this brings me to my one tip: if you're coming to Cairns, you're in north-eastern Australia and it gets hot up here, particularly this time of year.  The temperature gauge was in the low 30s C/low 90s F, but with the humidity and the more direct rays from the sun, it easily felt over 100 F.  It was worst-sunburn-of-my-adult-life hot (which is more my fault than Cairns' fault), but if you have a choice, you'll probably want to visit during the Southern Hemisphere's winter, even though hotel prices will be higher than I found this week.  (The already expensive Australian food and tour prices are probably the same all year round.)

Obligatory Reef Photo #1

Obligatory Reef Photo #2

Miscellaneous Travel Tips for Papua New Guinea

1.  Western doctors will recommend you take anti-malaria medication unless you are only travelling in the Highlands.  I was a little skittish about the prospect, because I heard the drugs can cause nausea and -- get this -- nightmares.  Plus, I was only going to be in the country for 3.5 days.  Anyway, I thought I had better be safe than sorry, so although I did not have a chance to visit the Travel Clinic at Northwestern Hospital in Chicago in the few days I had at home before the trip, I made an appointment with a Travel Doctor clinic in Sydney before I even left the States.

The helpful doctor gave me some PNG travel tips and basically left the decision up to me: 1) I could take nothing; 2) I could take a drug called Malarone the night before my trip to PNG, each night during my stay, and one night afterwards, or 3) I could take a different, less expensive drug for 40 days.  I chose the Malarone and did not notice any side effects.  The doctor's visit and the pills cost $71 AUS, or about $60 US.  (On a side note, the Australian dollar is at a 4-year low right now against the US dollar, and it helps, because Australia is a very expensive country to visit.)

2.  Americans (and several other nationalities) can apply for a (free) visa at a PNG embassy, but really, all you need to do is show up at the airport in Port Moresby.  Australians, on the other hand, have some rigamarole to go through.  I don’t fully understand the situation, but it seems Australia requires visitors from PNG to go through several hoops before entering the country.  In retaliation, PNG requires the same now of Australians (despite the close economic, historical, and social ties between the neighbors).  I was told in Australia to be sure to sit toward the front of my plane because I would face a long line at customs in Port Moresby.

In fact, I sat in the middle of the plane, sauntered off, got into the terminal and saw a long line of Aussies in front of me.  Then I walked over to the lonely person at the “Visa on Arrival” desk, waved my US passport, and got my visa in about 90 seconds.  I felt a little badly for all the Australians watching me enviously, but not too badly.

3.  I saw some contradictory information on-line about this, so in case anyone comes here wondering, Americans do not need to bring passport photos for the visa.  I brought some new ones along, but found out that they would only be needed if, for some reason, I had applied through an embassy.  You don't need them at the Port Moresby airport -- they simply stick the visa onto a blank page in your passport.  

4.  If you're flying on Air Niugini -- and you probably are -- I have a few observations.  The surprising good news was that on my flight from Brisbane to Port Moresby, I had a selection of about 25 films to watch on a tablet-like device attached to the back of the seat in front of me.  Airlines in the US really need to get with the program.

On my exit, there were about 100 passengers on an almost completely full flight leaving tiny Madang for Port Moresby at 6:30 on a Saturday morning.  Since there are only a couple of flights leaving that airport every day, I thought there would be no need to get there too early.  I arrived at 5:30 and found most of those 100 people in front of me.  All luggage is screened by hand -- not by machine.  The plane departed 15 minutes late simply because of how long it took to process everyone.  A picture of the "departure lounge" in Madang is below.

All luggage is screened by hand at the table underneath the Hertz sign at the entrance to the Madang airport.

5.  The mask and figurines I purchased at PNG Arts in Port Moresby (and referenced in my earlier post), had to be inspected by Australian customs upon my entrance into the country, because they were made of wood.  I was warned at PNG Arts that this would happen, but after making me unwrap the packaging, the Aussie customs official saw no problem with the items.  And, while I'm on the topic, here's a photo of the 2-foot long mask, bought for about $16 US.