Xi'an (China)

We headed to Xi'an on the bullet train, hitting 250 miles per hour! Most tourists flock to the capital of Shaanxi province to visit the Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor (Qin Shi Huang), popularly known as the home of the Terra Cotta Army. In 1974, farmers digging a new well for an orchard broke into one end of a huge subterranean pit housing ancient terra cotta statues. The figures (an estimated 6000!) include infantrymen, charioteers, and high-ranking military officers intended to protect his body or accompany the emperor who unifed China (around 230 BC) into the afterlife. Excavation of the archaeological site continues to this day with only 3 pits, the largest of which fits in an airplane hangar, currently open to visitors.

While we'd heard that there are no 2 faces alike, we were surprised to find that all of them (~2000 to date) had to be painstakingly reconstructed from broken pieces, as time had destroyed the timbers holding up the ceilings of the mausoleum. I guess archeologists must be really good at jigsaw puzzles?!? It was cool to see the steps in marking and piecing together the artifacts. One section had rows of workstations and figures in varying degrees of reassembly. This gave us a real Westworld vibe, especially once we spotted one of the terra cotta horses suspended in a harness contraption... cue the haunting Westworld theme music!

We had hired a guide, which we concluded was, in theory, the right decision (it was very informative). In practice, however, she packed a whole lot of pushy in such a small package. We were mortified as she insisted other people move out of the way so she could take our pictures. We were quick marched  through the actual archaeological pits, forced to visit the terra cotta souvenir factory (bring home your own warrior!) and sit through a jade store sales pitch, before finally managing to extricate ourselves from further offers of her services.

After hitting up the terra cotta army, most tourists bugger off to elsewhere in China. While the mausoleum was interesting, honestly for us, it wouldn't have been worth the detour if that was all to see in Xi'an. The Big Wild Goose Pagoda, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was a pleasant place to visit. The 7-story tower overlooks a public space with terraced fountains -  drawing many on a warm weekend - and it amused us to watch an overzealous young cop blowing his whistle at every picture-taking and water-touching offender while the veteran policemen chilled out in the shade. The grounds inside the pagoda walls house the Da Ci'en Temple complex. The buildings house important texts and golden statues of key figures in Buddhism. Offerings of gorgeous floral bouquets and pyramids of fruits line highly decorative altars. Gardens with little winding paths among the trees and trimmed hedges were an oasis from the heat and hordes. Not all on the temple grounds were filled with grace and calm. Nosy Rich espied 3 Buddhist monks in an argument so raucous, he watched to see if it would lead to fisticuffs!

Another worthwhile stop in Xi'an was the Shaanxi History Museum. There is a long queue to get in, but the ticket is free. Traveling has made it clear to us over the years that good curation is an art not fully appreciated by all, and the Shaanxi History Museum's efforts far surpassed any other historic monument we've visited in China. The galleries take you through the various dynasties that ruled over the province throughout history, and its significance in trade and exchange as the terminus for the Silk Road. There is even arguably better context given about the terra cotta army. Clear and intelligible translations in English for us foreigners also abound. The only downside was the wall-to-wall school groups and tour buses constantly jostling you for a closer view, or more likely, obnoxious selfies, but we're learning this is the norm for China.

On the other hand, the crowds - sorry, China has left me all out of synonyms for massive groups of people! - in Xi'an's Muslim Quarter make it an exciting spot for nightlife. The streets are packed with food stalls selling every delicacy and regional specialty. Brightly lit signs, elaborate costumes, and shouting street hawkers try to draw you to their wares. Lamb dumplings, wide biang biang noodles with chillies, and persimmon cakes stuffed with sweet sesame paste were some of the delicious dishes we sampled. As someone who, at this exact moment, has a whole lamb in her freezer back home, I wondered how good can the lamb kebabs in the Muslim Quarter actually be. They are really good. Tender, juicy, spicy with a kind of cumin and chili mix. Each kebab stall has an entire lamb or two hanging right in front with a man butchering as the night goes on and another couple grilling nonstop. You know options are dwindling for this most popular snack when there are clean ribs dangling left and right. Get'em while they're hot!

Our last culinary extravaganza in Xi'an was hot pot. We ordered yin-yang style with the pot divided into a mild broth on one side and traditional Sichuan chillies on the other. Along the wall are cabinet fridges filled with meats, seafood, tofu, and vegetables on skewers, and you grab a tray and go shopping! You cook your own in the rolling boil at the table, and there's a delicious chilli-peanut-garlic sauce to mix for dipping. At the end of the meal, the waiter comes by and counts the skewers to tally your bill, just like Basque pintxos!

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The Great Wall at Jinshanling (China)

For an early start, breakfast was pointing to order bits from a busy hole in the wall next to the metro station: a large square of dough hot from the fryer (yes, please!), a Chinese egg sarnie (yes!), steamed pork buns (eh, ok), and sticky rice and dates wrapped in a leaf (hell, yes!).

Started around 200 B.C. and built by the Qin and Han dynasties, the Great Wall has about a half dozen options available for a visit from Beijing. We chose the section at Jinshanling. The nearly 3 hour drive out of the city got us far enough away from almost all the day trippers who crowd closer sections like those at Badaling and Mutaniyu. That's not to say that Jinshanling's amenities were rustic.

Construction was booming. Billboards advertising new properties herald a future where Jinshanling will seem more akin to a chic ski village than remote outpost. One advantage of the gentrification were brand new toilet facilities, especially as there are none whatsoever on the Wall itself. The path up to the Great Wall had a fair incline, which was paved smoothly and with new steps. The cute souvenir shops, colored banners, and piped music lining the path made it feel eerily like we were in line for the big ride at a theme park.

At the top was the gate at Jinshanling, and we were headed to the gate at Simatai West. The section is mostly restored and broken up by a series of watchtowers. The Great Wall follows the ridgeline of the surrounding mountains so maybe priming one to think of rollercoasters beforehand isn't such a bad idea. Some parts were so steeply sloped that the Wall curved like the construction of a bridge, and other parts were graded with hundreds of unevenly sized steps. I was grateful I'd brought my trekking poles and that it wasn't rainier, making the bricks even more slippery. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't ideal. The Wall was shrouded in fog so while the watchtowers and ramparts were very cool, materializing out of thin air, visibility was such that we'd have been useless as lookouts for any Mongol invaders. Our pace was sweaty and grueling since an early map showed almost a dozen watchtowers to pass within the 2.5 hours allotted to get to the east gate and down to the bus parking lot. A little over an hour in, we were surprised to discover there were only 4 more watchtowers to go, rather than the 8 we were expecting... so either we misinterpreted the map (which became an all too common occurrence during our trip in China), grossly miscounted watchtowers on our route, or inadvertently passed through some bewitched portal in the mists of time... You decide.

Hiking gave us a good appetite for dinner back in Beijing. Each of the provinces have their own offices in the capital so we decided to try out the restaurant catering to workers from Sichuan since we wouldn't get a chance to visit. An enormous basin with red chillies, peppercorns, and bay leaves floating arrived at our table. The college kid serving us had to demonstrate skimming out the spicy stuff so we could reach the fillets of freshwater fish below. The other dish we ordered was frog legs stir-fried with piquant, pickled peppers. Both had enough bones to make eating a bit cumbersome, but no question that the flavors were authentic and the good kind of burn.

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Beijing (China)

Our arrival into Beijing was near midnight, and the taxi driver had some difficulty locating our hostel down one of Beijing's ancient hutongs. The narrow, tree-lined alleyway is a surprising respite from the bustling city, and home to a community center and small police station. Street sweepers were out every morning, and most of the traffic pedaled by on bicycles or drove small electric vehicles.

We eased into Beijing with a morning visit to the Temple of Heaven Park, a vast greenspace in Confucian design, surrounded by a stone wall in the middle of the urban landscape. We were early enough to catch the routines of locals. Elderly folks were very active - playing paddleball like it was a day at the beach; chanting and smacking themselves in unison in a sort of head, shoulders, knees, and toes exercise to get the blood flowing presumably; playing impressive hacky sack with what looks like a giant shuttlecock (a past-time called jianzi); and scrimmaging in actual badminton with the nets strung up between the trees. For the less strenuous but still social, there were choirs singing Peking Opera and amateurs gently swaying in dance routines with colorful scarves. Dotted here and there among the thousands of knotty cypress trees, there were individuals mediating or doing tai chi, birds with beautiful long tails darting from the tall grasses, and echoes of soft music piped in to speakers along the main paths. A variety of outdoor pavilions and pagodas drew the larger numbers of visitors. Crowds also gathered in the rose garden, snapping selfies in the most riotous display of every shade of red and yellow and white blooms I've ever seen.

The hordes were much more daunting at the Forbidden City, the sprawling palace complex that had been off limits to the public for 500 years during the reigns of the Qing and Ming emperors. The flood begins at the Meridian Gate, where all must enter. Wide courtyards, grand staircases, and bridges carved in marble separate what seems like an endless succession of Halls, Gates, and Palaces. Each structure is named for some lofty ideal or trait, like the Hall of Supreme Harmony or Palace of Heavenly Purity. Certainly, the ornately tiled roofs, elaborately painted timbers, and fierce guardian sculptures live up to the exalted names. Unfortunately, many of the interiors were actually empty, closed to access, or at best, furnished but dimly lit and visible via thousands of noses pressed into the plexiglass outside. Some of the smaller buildings deeper into the complex host exhibits of various themes in the collection, but to be honest, the labyrinth had already worn us out to muster much enthusiasm then.

We had no lack of enthusiasm for delving into Beijing's culinary offerings. Peking duck, roasted traditionally over fruit woods, cost a pretty penny but came with fixins for a party - tender baby bok choy with mushrooms, a spicy slaw, garlic and chili eggplant, crunchy lotus root in a pink jelly, and an addictive peanut and red onion salad. The duck itself arrived whole with the cook expertly slicing even portions with thin rinds of glistening, crispy skin, like a master carving a jamon iberico. Washed down with eight treasures tea (an aromatic blend of flowers, dates, nuts, and rock sugar), it was a grand feast.

Wangfujing is a famous pedestrian shopping area, but we were only buying street food. A narrow lane off the main drag is so packed with people and food stalls we felt in danger of being bamboo-skewered ourselves with so many double-fisting. The famous photo opp are the still-twitching scorpions on sticks. We bypassed these. As an entomologist, I've sampled a slew of specimens, and frankly, the scorpions seemed all exoskeleton. Giant soup dumplings, on the other hand, were a fun novelty, slurping the soup out with a straw and then trying to figure out how to eat the deflated result. Rich went with predictable but delicious choices - some kind of tentacles grilled and spicy, and for pudding, deep-fried rice flour sesame balls. I also tried and loved a kebab of unknown fruit, glazed in hardened sugar syrup and sesame seeds. The fruit looked like a rounder strawberry, tasted like cooked rhubarb, and contained hard seeds. Later we found out the fruit is Chinese hawthorn, and the kebab form is a very traditional treat known as tanghulu. Yum!

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Kayaking in the Nærøyfjord and Aurlandsfjord (Norway)

The main draw for us coming to Norway was the chance to go kayaking in the fjords. Now we've been on a few kayaking trips - the most memorable included a capsize we still refer to as a "marriage-building experience" - but enough time passes that memories fade, and we think, yes, maybe we should try a kayaking trip again. When we arrived in Norway, the weather report had changed considerably enough for the worse that we seriously debated cancelling this portion of our trip and losing a significant deposit. Despite the ominous forecast, and our poor track record with kayaking trips, we committed to going ahead.

In Gudvangen (about 45 min northeast of Voss), we packed clothes in dry bags; donned wetsuits (again), spray skirts, and jackets; and secured food and gear in holds and in bungees strapped atop the kayaks. Everything we'd need for the 3 day adventure with tour operator Nordic Ventures. It was chilly and raining intermittently when we launched out into the Nærøyfjord, but the sea was relatively calm, and a light tailwind made the paddling surprisingly relaxed. It also helps that the Nærøyfjord is a UNESCO world heritage site. Traffic is restricted to only a handful of small boats and ferries, and the only aircraft we saw were likely rescue helicopters. We stopped for a picnic lunch on a beach just around the corner from where a huge pile of stones marked the burial of Viking of some importance, judging by the size of the mound.

Being on the water ended up being the best case scenario. The rain doesn't matter so much if you're in wetsuits already, and our guide Hamish pointed out about a half dozen smaller waterfalls that only appeared on the cliffs in such abundance. The old faithfuls were truly impressive dropping off such steep cliffs, and it was so much fun to fill our bottles straight from the cascades! One of the falls was so strong you could paddle hard into the rapids developing at the foot before the strength of them pushed you quickly out to sea again.

The middle of our trip was broken up with a day on land. We made camp on a beach one evening near the hamlet of Dyrdal, and the next morning we hiked from sea level all the way to the top of the fjord. Luckily, the weather cleared up for most of it, and the long hours of daylight we're on our side. We climbed 1100 meters (~3600 feet) and back down again in about 10.5 hours! As our guide warned us, Norwegians don't really go in for catwalks or zigzagging. The trail pretty much went straight up. It was also highly technical. The wet created boggy areas of mud, moss, and curiously springy lichen. The higher elevations were strewn with boulders and smaller, uneven rocks of the perfect size and shape for trapping feet or rolling ankles on. Fortunately, the views more than made up for it: thundering waterfalls with bluish rapids, towering mountains with the odd sheep, hay fields swaying with breeze, and tiny wooden cabins in the meadows. Stopping for a breather, tasting the raspberries and blueberries that grow wild along the trail made for a delightful respite. The sun was shining at the summit, and looking down, the boats on the Nærøyfjord far below us were practically microscopic. It was strange that our party had started the hike in shorts and t-shirts, but the changes in elevation had us layered up in fleeces, jackets, and knitted beanies at the top. After a brief nistepakke (Norwegian for "packed lunch," i.e. for me, as much smoked salmon and avocado as I could pile on a sandwich), and snapping photos off the edge until the acrophobia makes you queasy, we bundled up and headed down again... just as the snowflakes started to fall and a rainbow formed over the highlands. Glorious!

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Whitewater rafting in Voss (Norway)

Our foray into the Norwegian wilderness continued in Voss, about an hour on the train northeast of Bergen. Known as the adventure capital of Norway, Voss sits on the shore of the lake Lundarvatnet.

We were booked for a day of whitewater rafting... or canyoning, depending on the water levels. All of that rain we'd been experiencing meant for some truly awesome-power-of-nature-type rushing water. The guide told us the spectacular Tvindefossen (literally "two waterfalls") was the largest he'd seen it in several years. Ergo, we were going rafting.

We stuffed ourselves into thick wetsuits, jackets, and booties, which still didn't quite prepare us for the brisk 8C (~46 F) temperatures. Avoiding the wet was not up for debate, as this tour operator (Voss Active) insisted on a practice run and a swim test for good measure. We had to wade in, assume the legs up position (so your limbs don't get stuck under rocks), deliberately float into a swirling rapids, flip over, and swim across the current to the bank. Easy, right? Well, the cold was still a shock, and maybe I panicked a little with the strength of the current, swallowing more water than necessary, but I made it. Rich, on the other hand, was having so much fun in the rapids that he forgot the swimming part, ending up much further downstream.

The rafts were six or seven people each plus the guide. The Strandaelva river was flowing swiftly with Class 4-4.5 rapids. For the connoisseurs, it was the kind of rafting where there was a real possibility of flipping. We watched as one of our flotilla followed us over a big rapid, and the guide exclaimed, "Whoa, that was really close! If someone would've sneezed, they would've gone under... Probably means we shouldn't have done what we just did." In short, it was awesome!!

One poor sod was blue-tinged and shivering with cold in the van back to base. Luckily, there were hot showers awaiting, a wood fire going, and a hearty lunch of baked Norwegian salmon and potatoes ready for us. Nothing like cold and adrenaline followed by a hot meal to remind you life is good.

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Bergen (Norway)

Having enjoyed our jaunts to Denmark, Iceland, and very briefly, Helsinki, we thought we'd give Norway a go. Flying into Bergen, the shuttle bus is an easy choice into the city center... All the more easier with only half our luggage. Unfortunately, we spent the first part of our holiday wondering when or if my pack, with all its technical gear, would join us. The situation was more agonizing when we realized, yes, Norway is as expensive as everyone says, and shops could be closed for Sunday by the time I found out. Here's hoping the jacket and trousers I purchased for 2-3x what it'd cost in the U.S. gets reimbursed by the airline!

We quickly discovered the weather in Norway is very changeable so layers with water- or wind-proofing are essential. We imagine the city is pretty when the sun is out, but we also heard that Bergen typically gets about 20 days of sunshine a year. Visiting in August did mean that even on a cloudy day, there was good light well into the evening, with dusk beginning around 10:30 pm. This was handy as shopping delayed the start of our hiking on Mount Fløyen, one of the seven hills of Bergen. Catching the funicular near the city center, we hiked about 5 km of trails around little lakes and in the mossy forests 320 meters (~1050 feet) above Bergen. It was great seeing families setting off rain or shine with tiny kids in Goretex coveralls, climbing into canoes or swarming over ropes courses.

A haven from the cold and wet are the KODE museums, one of the largest art and design collections in Scandinavia. The docent persuaded us to join the free tour of Edvard Munch's works in KODE 2, and it was amusing to hear her obvious annoyance that Oslo insists on retaining all 3 copies of his most famous piece, The Scream.

Our favorite break from the weather came from a guidebook's interview with one of the members of the Norwegian band Kings of Convenience. We may have missed out on one of his guest dj spots in the city, but Eirik Glambek Boe knows his coffee. Kaffemisjonen served us up the best cups we've had since our trip to Italy, and his recommendation for a local roaster had us looking out for the brand elsewhere in Norway.

Bryggen is the historic quarter of the city, hearkening back to its days as a trading powerhouse in the Hanseatic League. Buildings in warm reds and yellows, dating post a 1704 fire, but in the style of the 12th century, line the eastern side of the wharf with wooden alleyways containing craftsmen workshops and plenty of souvenir shops. Directly opposite lies the Torget Fish Market, a fancier version compared to many we've seen. A selection of caviars, shellfish, and other treasures from the sea were on display. A salesgirl at one counter proffered curious tidbits of Norwegian land-based cuisine. We tried smoked sausage made from elk, reindeer, moose, and a small, furry weasel-like creature Google suggests might be a pine marten. Chewing on a greasy piece of whale sausage brought back terrible memories of hakarl (Icelandic rotten shark). For more al fresco dining, there were fishmongers - mostly Spaniards it seemed - in pop up tents selling seafood plates from the grill or flat top.

Bypassing these options, we struck gold with a restaurant recommendation from the bus driver. Although the prices were shocking, the presentation was decidedly upscale and the food superb. From the first bite, we knew we were in the hands of a master: arctic char with beautifully crispy skin on a bed of melted root vegetables, tender wolffish, creamy fish soup (a Bergen specialty), and a light and airy pavlova (meringue dessert) made with cloudberries (an amber-colored relative of raspberries that grows in the arctic wild in Norway). Compliments to the chef, indeed!

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Farmer-to-Farmer Program: Final Thoughts on Nepal

A former manager of mine had been to Nepal as a Fulbright Scholar, and he maintained his enthusiasm for the country from grad school through to his recent visit for a different Farmer-to-Farmer assignment. Despite some the initial difficulties, I am happy to report I share his good opinion of Nepal. I will definitely have to come back some day to see more of the country. 

Here are some odds and ends from my visit:

- Diversity: Even when boarding the plane in Dubai, I was struck by the ethnic diversity of Nepalis, just from the sample of overseas workers headed home. In a lineup of agro-vets, individuals could have easily been mistaken for Mexican, Arab, Indian, Greek, Chinese, or Native American. The day I showed up at the office sporting my only salwar kameez (the long shirt, pants, and scarf combo I purchased in India but is also common dress in Nepal), my Winrock colleague told me he nearly mistook me for a Nepali woman. The turnabout was also true. I couldn't stop staring at the Pesticide Registrar when we met because he was a dead ringer for my Filipino uncle. We even joked about it later, as through a translator, he told me he also thought I looked like his relatives! 

- Food: No matter the ethnicity, the staple for Nepalis is dal bhat or dal bhat tarkari. The lentil soup (dal) and steamed rice (bhat) is eaten 2 or 3 times a day. The upgrade includes a vegetable or meat curry (tarkari). The dal bhat tarkari I had with agro-vets was an excellent value for about 150-200 rupees ($1.50-2.00), and that would even come with seconds or thirds if you wanted! ... and instead of bread rolls or chips and salsa, they leave a bowl of popcorn for you to snack on. The fanciest dal bhat tarkari come with multiple curries and spicy pickles in little stainless steel dishes, similar to an Indian thali. When I've been on assignments, the limitations to local cuisine can be monotonous after so many days. Not so in Nepal, where even the dal changes daily or different cooks have different takes on the same lentils or beans. I credit Indian cuisine with teaching me to enjoy vegetables, and its less spicy - though still spiced! - cousin in Nepal was no exception. The veg curries came in varieties of cabbage, carrot, pumpkin, beet, okra, cauliflower, different greens, and even the dreaded bitter melon. Sorry, Mom, I still don't like ampalaya in any form. 

- Logistics: While my Winrock colleagues stuck to US/EU business hours, the government officers in Nepal have shorter days (~ 10 am to - 4:30 pm) but work 6 days a week with only Saturday off. Nepal also has their own calendar, a lunar one in which I believe the current year is 2072? When trying to set up meetings, what really threw me for a loop were Nepali numbers. Zero still looks like an "O," but the script for their 1 and 5 look more like how we write "9" and "4," respectively. Confusing! ...and of course, Nepalis drive on the left-side of the road like the Brits.

- Himalayas: One colleague liked to say that Nepal is not rich in much but mountains. Before this Farmer-to-Farmer assignment, my main interest in coming to Nepal would have been to go trekking in the mountains. As this would take more time than I had, one alternative was to take the Himalaya mountain flight. Catering to tourists, the plane leaves early in the morning and flies for 1 hour over to the mountains. Visibility is always an issue, and even the day, I went the flight was delayed a half hour as they waited for better conditions. Each of the approximately 20 passengers has their own window seat, and the flight attendants come down the aisle to point out Everest and the other tallest mountains in the world. It was something to see, especially since I had no other alternative and none of my commercial flights would have passed by them. However, the price tag is pretty steep at $200/seat and probably would have been better justified if I was a good photographer or had a better camera. We did each get to step inside the cockpit in midflight to see the Himalayas from the pilots' view - something I definitely thought, especially in a post-9/11 world, would never be possible!

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Rich and Julie Get A Move On

Farmer-to-Farmer Program: Kathmandu and Pokhara (Nepal)

Tacking on a few days for some sightseeing at the end of my assignment, I visited the Boudhanath temple complex in the Kathmandu valley. A UNESCO World Heritage site, entry into the Great Boudha Stupa was closed due to earthquake damage, but the outer buildings are well worth a visit regardless. One of them houses a prayer wheel the size of a car with a big metal rail installed for worshippers to spin it as they circumambulate clockwise. The Guru Lhakhang Monastery was richly decorated with elaborate murals even in the stairwells, colorful hanging textiles, and giant gold statues. A Buddhist monk wrapped a white scarf around my neck and prayed for me in a ritual that involved chanting and throwing rice grains onto the pages of his book?!

Pokhara, only about a half hour by plane from Kathmandu, is a lakeside town framed by mountains. It is a popular stop either before or after trekking the Annapurna Circuit in the Himalayas. Sadly, I didn't have the time or money - or the legs - to do such a thing at the moment. But the hotel arranged a taxi to take me to see one of the sights: the view of the mountain Machhapuchchhre, sacred to the god Shiva and off limits to climbers. It’s best to capture at dawn so I set my alarm for 4:00 a.m., only to find no one else awake besides the security guard. Apparently, I had misunderstood the man at reception and was an hour earlier than I needed to be! They roused the driver, and we drove out in the dark and up the mountainsides. I had expected a hike, but evidently, the driver intended to take me all the way to the viewpoint. It was comically pitch black when we arrived, so after taking in the town lights, we adjourned to a neighboring shack. The proprietor of this makeshift café was just waking up, and yawning in her house dress, she put the kettle on to make us tea. My driver and another who appeared out of nowhere made some lighthearted conversation, probably about the silly foreigner who woke him up in the middle of the night. In the growing light, the site revealed a view of Pokhara’s lake in the distance and the Seti Gandaki ("White River") winding through the valley. With the haze of dawn, I wasn’t sure exactly which of the mountains was the sacred one so I took pictures indiscriminately, along with the rest of the group that had gathered. As with any mountain chain, the cloud cover is unpredictable in the Himalayas. I just had noticed that some of the clouds seemed to have more of a distinct edge to them, when the sun shone through, and we all realized this was actually Machhapuchchhre, rising at least twice as high as the mountains we’d been photographing madly. This makes sense as I later learned there is about a 6500 m change in altitude within this 30 km. Unfortunately, this was the one glimpse we had before the clouds shifted again and we gave up with the full morning upon us. Along the steep road down, we passed small groups of young men running up. They were training in the military. Some of them looked pretty miserable with heavy packs on a strap slung around their forehead, which seems to be the preferred load-bearing style in Nepal. It made me a little relieved I didn’t do the hike.

Pokhara is the second most visited city by tourists in Nepal. The differences were jarring. Every business was either a hotel, restaurant, spa, souvenir shop, or hiking store. I didn't mind so much as it gave me a chance to purchase some fine textiles to bring home. Cashmere, anyone? Seriously, one shopkeeper going through all the grades and mixtures made my head spin. I studiously avoided anything more than window-shopping in the trekking stores as who knew if I could get those flood gates shut in time. As it was, I bought enough to make me nervous about the bag weight coming home. Despite it being off-season, I saw more foreigners than I’d seen in my previous 3 weeks in the country, even chatting to a couple of backpackers in an attempt to share the huge portion I ordered.  Pokhara was virtually untouched by the earthquake, but Nepalis were very concerned – and rightly so – that the international media coverage had scared away all the tourists. The upcoming high season would be the real test: Was the drop in visitors temporary? Or would the blow to this significant part of Nepal’s economy be permanent? Despite my comments about the earthquake damage I’ve seen, it was by far not as widespread as the media let on. It’s a gorgeous country, and I would urge people to still consider going… maybe now might even be the best time!

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Rich and Julie Get A Move On

Farmer-to-Farmer Program: Lalitpur (Nepal)

Lalitpur, or Patan, is the city adjacent to Kathmandu and actually was the base for the beginning and end of my assignment. Though it has its own square, not much seems to distinguish it from Kathmandu proper, other than you crossing the Bagmati River. My neighborhood was pretty much NGO central (non-governmental organization) with charities, embassies, and the United Nations offices a few blocks away. The number of expats meant a luxury of diverse dining options walking distance from the hotel – Japanese, Chinese, Indian, and even a British pub with a quiz night!

Lalitpur was also the site of our last training stop, in the local DADO. One activity that always hooks people in is a fun game I designed to review pesticide storage problems. The agro-vets are divided into teams, a picture is flashed up, and the first team to identify the problem or problems wins the point. The competition really heats up, and by the end, people are on their feet, shouting out answers or accusing each other of cheating. The game in Lalitpur had an added dimension, as I had taken the problem pictures in Kathmandu shops. Some of the owners of the shops were in the audience, and if not, plenty of other agro-vets could recognize whose shops they were. While I discouraged outright finger-pointing, the activity really got the agro-vets engaged and able to look critically at their neighbors’ and their own practices.

In Lalitpur, I also got to finally try one of the snack boxes the agro-vets were receiving during the afternoon break. The contents included a samosa (an empanda-like pyramid stuffed with spicy vegetable and potato), fried bits like lightly sweet and savory croutons, a banana of a peculiar variety that stays green even when ripe, and a mango juice box. I had seen the agro-vets in Chitwan eating what looked like a boiled egg in a plastic baggie, and they seemed to really enjoy the liquid it was floating in, too. Different strokes for different folks, I figured. When my Lalitpur box arrived with the same, I discovered it wasn't an egg at all! Instead, it's a ball of fresh, mild cheese soaking in sugary syrup, very similar to the Indian dessert I like called ras malai. No wonder they were slurping up the juice! When I told my Winrock colleagues about my mistake, they cried with laughter... evidently the prospect of savoring boiled egg liquid was a ridiculous idea for them, too.

The final days of the assignment were spent debriefing my host, the PEAN board (Pesticide Entrepreneurs’ Association Nepal).  All told, 185 agro-vets received training in the 5 locations. My recommendations to the board members involved actions they could take as an organization to support agro-vets in continuing education and regulatory policies. To express their appreciation for my assistance, the PEAN board members wanted to present me with a “token of love” before I left Nepal. I wasn’t sure what to expect – perhaps a shawl or scarf, which seemed to be a common gift. The PEAN president and secretary arrived at my hotel the night before I left bearing a sizeable red velvet case with gold clasps. If this was the movies, the case would be opened to reveal magnificent jewelry that the heroine would get to wear and feel like a princess for a night. In my case (see that pun!), a personalized plaque was inlaid in the most elaborately carved, dark wood frame. Even the Winrock country director was surprised and impressed, whispering concerns about how to pack it carefully in my baggage. It was certainly a generous gift, and I’ll be happy to display it in the office… although the other décor may look quite shabby by comparison.

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Rich and Julie Get A Move On

Farmer-to-Farmer Program: Hetauda, Gai Jatra, and Kavre (Nepal)

In a country that includes the Himalayas, it probably shouldn't have been a surprise that "plains" could be a subjective word. On our drives through the Terai plains, there were definitely hilly sections - I don't think farming on a plain should require terracing, do you? - and portions that would've given the Appalachians a run for their money. Driving from Chitwan to Makwanpur district, I finally saw land that to my Midwestern upbringing resembled flat lands. In this part of the Terai, the indigenous people are Tharu, and as my Tharu colleague from Winrock informed me, they are a different people with their own language, culture, and traditions. He was particularly pleased that recent research may support their belief that Buddha himself was probably Tharu.

This part of the Terai was dotted with peculiarly ornate houses. Three to four-stories with complex tile patterns on the facade are paired with ostentatious columns - everything from classical Greek to ones sculpted to look like tree trunks - and colorful balconies in some other style altogether. The combination made for a dizzying effect.

Shortly after arriving in Hetauda in the Makwanpur district, the local PEAN representative picked us up and took us out for a late bite to eat. Though it was getting quite dark, we could just make out the rubble of whole buildings that had been damaged by the earthquake and aftershocks. The pesticide registrar officer traveling with us related how he (and other government officials) had been pulled into disaster assessment and relief in the months following, and Makwanpur was more severely affected than other places we'd been.

Early the next morning before training commenced, we got to see a bit of Gai Jatra. This festival is when Nepali Hindus remember family members who have died within the past year. Children dress in costume and hold pictures of the departed. They receive small gifts of food - looking not unlike trick-or-treaters - but the items are meant as tribute to the dead. Gai Jatra actually means "cow festival," and a cow (or many) is part of the procession since Hindus believe the animal is holy and will help the decease's journey to heaven. The cow in Hetauda was more of a constructed float on a cart, and my heart went out to an elderly man grimly taking part, holding what was, presumably, a poster of his deceased wife.

Training in Hetauda was at the local DADO, and the PEAN representative warned us attendance would be high as they had originally requested to have 2 sets of training within Makwanpur district. While many of the agro-vets in Chitwan had been fairly young, there was a greater variety of ages in Hetauda. A few of the older gentlemen, dressed in the traditional daura-suruwal (trousers with a longish top under jacket) and Dhaka topi (folded hat in pinkish patterns), were quite open in sharing their experiences implementing and recommending an integrated pest management (IPM) approach. One even shared his successes concocting, using, and selling various extracts as pesticides and fertilizers. I was a little intimidated that a journalist writing for a Kathmandu paper was covering the training, but focusing on technical issues the agro-vets were interested in helped me forget my nerves. In Hetauda, I fielded questions on topics such as viral disease management in tomatoes, club root of Brassicas, and how temperature affects pesticide formulation efficacy and shelf-life.  

The training tour would continue on in a district on the other side of Kathmandu so we had to make a 4 hour journey through the mountains to get back to the capital. For the most part, the road was not in terrible shape, though windy and steep and likely treacherous if raining. We stretched our legs at a fruit stand and enjoyed some dried corn cobs that had been roasted over the fire as a sooty snack.

By the time we got to Kavre, the training ran like a well-oiled machine. Even the blackouts that occurred most of the first day and parts of the second didn't really slow us down. In the middle of the video illustrating proper use of excess pesticides and container disposal, I improvised triple rinsing with a little mime act using my water bottle and an empty 5-gallon drinking jug as the stand-ins for a pesticide bottle and backpack sprayer, respectively. Sitting in a darkened room without fans was a bit of a challenge for the drowsy. It became imperative to get all the agro-vets participating in the exercise to understand exactly how resistance develops in the field. The activity, taken from the playbook of field days we hosted at American Cyanamid in the late 90s, involves nearly as much bobbing up and down as a Catholic mass.

Since Kavre was an easy day trip from the capital, other department of agriculture officers, PEAN board members, and members of the Seed Entrepreneurs' Association Nepal (SEAN) also sat in on the training. The government officials handed out posters and manuals on pesticides registered in Nepal, toxicity classifications, and pre-harvest intervals (the time you need to wait after application before harvesting). During the break, the soon-to-retire pesticide registrar of Nepal got on stage - yes, there was actually a stage - and shared his experiences in agriculture over the long years of his career. Not a bad showing for the final stretch - his or our training plans!

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Rich and Julie Get A Move On

Farmer-to-Farmer Program: Bharatpur, Janaeu Purnima at Devghat, and Chitwan National Park (Nepal)

The next stop on the training tour was Bharatpur in Chitwan district. Arriving quite late in the evening, we were met by the local PEAN representative, an enthusiastic young man with private school English. A bandh (strike) had been called for in Chitwan, and we were concerned about how it would affect the training. This would mean no motorized traffic, as some of the demonstrations had resulted in vandalism. In the end, my Winrock colleague called it a "mini-bandh," as motorcycles still seemed to be on the road, and many people were out and about. Since the bandh meant closed shops anyway, it may have actually bumped up our attendance numbers. Nearly double the agro-vets expected came! Winrock staff told me I broke a record as I was the first Farmer-to-Farmer consultant to run out of the thick stack of business cards printed for me and needed a second printing.

The training took place in the local district agricultural development office, or DADO. The agro-vets in Chitwan were very receptive, getting into passionate discussions about the support and enforcement they needed from the government, what policies and practices they would like to implement or change, and how they could improve their businesses and services to farmers. One of the videos I like to show is of a farmer going about his normal mixing, applying, and cleaning a backpack sprayer. However, instead of pesticides, his spray solution contains a mixture that glows under blacklight, so afterwards, you can see all of the places that were contaminated on his body, his family, and the environment. Many of the agro-vets were very interested in showing it to their farmer customers. They eagerly copied down websites where they could read pesticide label information, view examples of how to best store and arrange inventory, and buy different kinds of personal protective equipment (PPE). Quite a successful workshop, we even had to get the Winrock office in Kathmandu to air-mail us extra training certificates!

The day we were scheduled to leave Chitwan was a holy day. Hindus wear a sacred red thread around their wrist as a token of familial love and prayers for protection, and Janaeu Purnima is the day they receive new threads. In the morning, we went to Devghat, a religious site at the junction of two rivers, the Seti Gandaki and Krishna Gandaki. Priests blessed and tied on new red threads on my colleagues, and then they performed ablutions in the sacred waters. The crowd also watched with interest as a group donned life-jackets and boarded a raft to be ferried across the swift-flowing junction. The current carried them in a wide arc before the rafters regained control, and everyone onshore breathed a collective sigh of relief. Our crossing via the suspension bridge - rain-slicked and the river visible in the wide gaps between the boards - seemed far safer by comparison. Later, my Winrock colleague kindly invited us to his house to meet his family and have a "snack," which I quickly discovered in Nepal are usually the size of a full meal. This snack included a rice pudding, an excellent fresh cucumber and potato reminiscent of German potato salad, and kwati, a stew made of several beans that is the traditional dish of Janaeu Purnima. With options for second helpings, of course.

Chitwan is most famous for the national park. A favorite hunting ground by the upper classes of Nepal in the past, this UNESCO world heritage site is home to Bengal tigers, leopards, and honey badgers. We didn't have a lot of time to spare before moving on to our next training location, and I could not take part in one of the popular elephant safaris, after having volunteered in a rehabilitation center for elephants who'd been abused in such trekking work (you can read about our wonderful experience at Elephant Nature Park here). However, we did negotiate a 45-minute walk around with a guide for what amounted to $5 for 3 people. In that short amount of time, we hit pay dirt: a one-horned rhinoceros! The rhinos are Chitwan National Park's most famous residents and not always even seen by tourists who've been on several days of safaris. This big guy was calmly chewing on some vegetation and wandered into the little river for a bit of drink and swim. There was a fairly steep bank between us and the hulking beast, but I still asked the guide what we should do if the rhino charged. The response,"Oh, just run over to that tree there and try to climb up it, but if you can't climb, just stand by it," did not inspire great confidence!

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Rich and Julie Get A Move On

Farmer-to-Farmer Program: Kathmandu and Dhading (Nepal)

A popular street food is panipuri. They are fried dough balls that have been hollowed out, filled with a potato or chickpea mixture, topped with an onion relish, and doused with sauces made with spicy green chilies and tamarind. Having enjoyed the crispy snack in its native India and in a North Carolina restaurant, I was eager to try them in Nepal. Out of concern for my health under the dubious sanitation practices of street vendors, the Winrock country director hospitably invited me to his home, where his wife prepared them carefully. The panipuris - and the rest of the luncheon - were delicious, and later in my trip, I found out I wasn't the only fan. Celebrity chef Jamie Oliver was on a BBC program introducing panipuris to England!

Saturday, not Sunday, is the day of rest for people in Nepal. My first weekend I was able to visit a Buddhist temple complex. Nepalis are very proud that Buddha was born in Nepal, and although the majority of the population today is Hindu, the influence and intermingling of both religions is such that many temples are shared places of worship. The large white stupa of Swayambhunath with Buddha's eyes painted on the golden spire did sustain some earthquake damage, as evidenced by the filled in cracks of the dome and some fenced off areas. However, the views out over the Kathmandu Valley are lovely, and Swayambhunath's nickname as "Monkey Temple" is well-deserved as these frisky mites clamber and play all over. One of the most sacred sites for Tibetan Buddhists, worshippers spin wooden prayer wheels clockwise as block-printed prayer flags flutter in blue, white, red, green, and yellow above.

After the day out, we headed to the first location on the revised itinerary. Far from the political disturbances in the western Terai, Dhading is only about a couple of hours away so we just drove from the capital each morning. There were many semis hauling goods on the only road out of Kathmandu in that direction. Not unlike the jeepneys of the Philippines, the front of the trucks were elaborately decorated in bright colors... probably all the better to see you as driving in Nepal is one continuous game of Chicken, with vehicles trying to pass each other on the single-lane mountain roads and blind corners. Along for the ride was a plant protection officer from the Pesticide Registrar's office, who ended up being my translator for most of the training days, and board members from my official host PEAN (Pesticide Entrepreneurs' Association Nepal). We visited an agro-vet shop in Dhading, which looked similar to the dozens we'd visited in Kathmandu, except for the fact that an entire room was devoted to the veterinary medicine side of the agro-vet business.

Training in Dhading took place in an empty room at a local hotel/restaurant. Nepalis like to hold to the forms so each meeting starts with greetings and introductions all around, followed by speeches from various esteemed attendees. While this may go on for some time, it is nice that key people are giving their implicit stamp of approval or sharing their expectations for the training. Then the Julie show can go on, with frequent pauses for translation. Based on our earlier meetings with stakeholders, I had prepared a series of presentations on such topics as the various tools of an integrated pest management (IPM) approach, toxicity and pesticide effects on the human health, product stewardship and the environment, etc. The group of agro-vets in Dhading was smaller, but this allowed for greater involvement during discussions and physical activities. Aside from the formal training, there would be many questions for me to field on the fly, or if possible, spend overnight preparing for new topics. For instance, the agro-vets in Dhading were particularly interested in rhizome rot of ginger. As a recent survey showed agro-vets in Nepal were the key influencer of farmers' management decisions over 60% of the time, it is important that the agro-vets are giving recommendations with solid science and understanding. The sessions in Dhading wrapped up with agro-vets receiving training certificates and more speeches by involved parties. On our way out of town, we stopped to check in with some of the local PEAN members to gauge how they felt the training went and next steps they felt the PEAN board could pursue.

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Rich and Julie Get A Move On

Farmer-to-Farmer Program: Kathmandu, Part II (Nepal)

The drastic changes in altitude from the valley floors to soaring mountains create microclimates to support a staggering diversity of crops in Nepal. Everything from subtropical lychees to cool-season Brassicas like cabbage and cauliflower are grown on subsistence farms. A colleague told me about one variety of apple grown in the high country because it only produces fruit if the blossoms have been under a blanket of snow for a whole week! Nepalis have a strong preference for fresh produce, which I saw especially on one drive back. Stopping at a roadside stand in the mountains, everyone was excited to buy a giant bag of Asian pears for themselves... then about a half hour later, we stopped again to buy even more because these ones looked bigger. Curious to see what else is in season, I always look forward to visiting fruit and veg markets. It was business, though, that actually brought me to one in Kathmandu.

Kalamati is a wholesale market in Kathmandu. Pyramids of pomegranates, heaps of jackfruit, enormous bundles of long beans, cucumbers thicker than your arms, and baskets of small, fiery chilies were on sale. Fixed price ranges for each crop are posted but fluctuate throughout the day, and the minimum is something like 10 kilos. We were invited to visit the government's on-site laboratory. Last year they started regular testing of samples from different vendors for pesticide residues using a kit developed by the Taiwan Agricultural Research Institute and a bench-top spectrophotometer. Depending on the results, the government officers can allow the crop to be sold as safe for consumption, hold it in quarantine, or give the order for the lot to be dumped. Currently, they are only testing for organophosphate and carbamate residues but are looking to expand the program into other insecticides as well as fungicides. While I've some experience with residue testing, we were able to propose bringing in a technical expert with specific background in higher throughput and rapid analysis. As often is the case, one Farmer-to-Farmer assignment begats another!

I had a couple of hours without any meetings so I walked to Durbar Square in Kathmandu. One of the most popular sights to see in the capital, it sustained significant damage from the earthquake and aftershocks earlier this year. As the site of royal palaces of Malla and Shah kings for nearly 1000 years, it is still worth a visit, but I'd be cautious about entering some of the structures. One of the buildings, Kumari Chowk, is home to a living Hindu goddess, Raj Kumari (or rather, a girl chosen as the human incarnation of Durga). The temples are still active, as evidenced by the smears of red powder tikas on the statues and offerings of flowers and fruit placed by worshippers. A pretty fearsome sight is the wall depicting Black (Kala) Bhairav, a manifestation of the god Shiva wielding a sword and wearing human heads around his mid-section. Under such a frightening gaze, you bet I asked the military guard standing opposite for permission before taking a picture!

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Rich and Julie Get A Move On

Farmer-to-Farmer Program: Kathmandu (Nepal)

Unbeknownst to me, in the roughly 2 days I was en route from the States to Kathmandu, events were happening on the ground that would impact the rest of my time in Nepal. The Parliamentary government has been drafting a new constitution for the last 7 years, and the most recent subject of debate was redrawing of the district lines, similar to state or province borders. From what I could glean, the latest proposals of what is essentially gerrymandering drew criticism, particularly from underrepresented minority groups. As a result, protests and “bandhs” (i.e. strikes) were organized, and some of the demonstrations in the western Terai region turned into violent clashes, damaging property, injuring people, and killing 9. The towns from the news headlines sounded familiar because they were on my proposed schedule to visit. Oh.

With safety and security ever top of mind, the Winrock International team and the local USAID (U.S. Agency for International Development) mission were always monitoring the situation and continued to throughout my assignment. Because of their actions and clear communications, I felt completely confident that I was in good hands and never once felt concerned for my safety during my trip... and neither did Rich back home. The local staff did have to scramble a bit, as they hadn't had to deal with something quite like this before... which is saying something, considering that during the devastating earthquake that hit Nepal in April this year, they had 3 people in country on assignments (all were completely safe). Also, mine was the first of a series of different Farmer-to-Farmer projects supposed to be based in the western Terai so it was a bit of a test case.

The first few days stuck pretty close to my original schedule, as the plan was to meet with all of the project stakeholders in the capital Kathmandu. For the yogis out there, I learned “Namaste” or “Namaskar” with prayer hands at the heart is the appropriate greeting and goodbye... For the business folk, the exchange of business cards is alive and well in Nepal, but a bit of a tricky juggle at the same time as you're both namaste-ing... and for the Brits, every meeting involves a round or more of tea, usually with milk, and sometimes as masala chai. Cultural matters aside, the local USAID mission is working on the Knowledge-based Integrated Sustainable Agriculture Nutrient (KISAN) Project, and as the local partner, we discussed what issues they saw as most important, their expectations of what I could contribute, and suggestions they had for altering my schedule with the situation in the western Terai. This pretty much was the agenda for all of the stakeholder meetings. I had received a fairly detailed Scope of Work previously, but it is always good to confirm and revise once you get in country.

My host for the project is the Pesticide Entrepreneurs' Association Nepal, or PEAN. They requested technical assistance to increase the capabilities of agro-vets. These are generally small business-owners whose shops sell pesticides, micronutrients and fertilizers, seeds, and veterinary medicines. We visited with dozens of agro-vets so I could get a good idea of what the shops are like and meet the members. PEAN was also very keen to hear about practices, standards, and regulations in the U.S., European Union, and internationally.  

We also met with several people from the Department of Agriculture. There are some issues that PEAN would like the government to consider changing its policies for, and the discussions could get quite heated. Sometimes it felt like a scene from Twelve Angry Men. Not being familiar with Nepali and its cadences, it struck me how sometimes a language can just sound harsher to your foreign ears (*cough* German *cough*). While there was genuine passion about some subjects, I also realized, for instance, that one of the gentlemen who frequently raised his voice is probably hard of hearing, and another time, my interpreter explained all the hullabaloo was for a tangent they went off on. Mostly, the visits to the government offices were by way of introduction and explaining what we were planning to do. Sometimes this meant we even picked up a few more who wanted to sit in on the training!

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Rich and Julie Get A Move On

Farmer-to-Farmer Program, IV (Nepal)

It's not every day you turn on the television and see a completely new sport. Picture stocky, beefcake men holding hands… in a dodgeball court… playing what looks like Tag… if only one guy was running and everybody else was “It.” Further inquiry informs me that in addition to the one man trying to touch the line for base, he has to do it with the added challenge of not taking more than one breath. The referees can tell this because he has to hum continuously. This explains why full-contact tackling seems to be an effective strategy for making your opponent gasp for air. The sport is kabaddi, and though the match I was watching was between 2 professional Indian teams - Telugu Titans vs. Bengaluru Bulls – it is traditional sport of Nepal. And that's where I am. Not to watch kabbadi, but to take on another USAID Farmer-to-Farmer Program assignment.

This is my fourth go-round, though my first in Nepal. The USAID Farmer-to-Farmer Program brings technical expertise for specific projects to improve the agribusiness value chain in developing countries. Administered by different organizations in different regions, this is my first time working with them in Asia and with Winrock International. I'll be writing more about my project in Nepal, but you can read about my previous assignments here:

I, Mozambique
II, Nicaragua
III, Senegal

For more about the program in general and Winrock International:
USAID Farmer-to-Farmer Program
Winrock International

 

San Francisco, CA (United States)

San Francisco's Chinatown is the oldest in North America and the largest Chinese community outside Asia. Even without the tiled roofs, watching the ladies doing tai-chi exercises and old men hunched over strange board games in the park makes you feel like you've stepped into another country. Lunch in the business district was tasty with a spicy conch salad, thin-sliced pickled beef, and perfectly steamed baby bok choi. After multiple shots of teas with names like Red Robe and Iron Goddess at a free tasting, we caved to an expensive purchase of a Lapsang Souchong - surprisingly delicate on the smoke - from what must have been the most jaded, yet knowledgeable, barista ever.
Me: “Which one's your favorite?”
Mr. Bore-ista: “This one here. It's not as astringent as the variety usually is.”
Long silence.
Me: “Er, can we try it?”
Long silence.
Mr. Bore-ista sighs.
Long silence.
Mr. Bore-ista: “I guess.”

Not content with your average Alcatraz trip, we opted to see the bay under sail. Eagerly boarding the 135-year-old scow schooner Alma, we learned the commands and helped raise the sails. This was not an easy task even with a dozen people hauling. There's something quite fantastic hearing some old salt roar, “Avast!” on the sea, and I learned “Heave!” and “Ho!” is a thoroughly valid call-and-response onboard. Rich even got to steer the big wheel for a while using that ancient combination of feeling the wind, keeping an eye to the sails, lining her up with coastal landmarks… and an app on a tablet tucked away on a shelf. Besides circumnavigating the prison from The Rock and other films, we also got to watch out for harbor porpoises playing in the bay. The rest of the San Francisco Maritime National Historic Park is well-worth a visit, too, as there are other restored ships to see. Like the Balclutha, which hauled cargo like timber to Australia, coal, and Alaskan salmon before her retirement, and on the day we visited, was being painstakingly re-caulked in traditional fashion: a guy on his hands and knees pouring hot tar from a metal pitcher. Sea lions were also resting on the docks with far fewer spectators than the famous ones that took over pier 39.

Further down is tourist central – Fisherman's Wharf. We lingered long enough to fill our bellies with 2 local favorites: sandwich rolls packed with dungeness crab and shrimp and clam chowder in Boudin's sourdough bread bowls. But the real winner for Rich was the Musée Mécanique, a penny arcade filled with antique games. It's clear they were originally intended as adult amusements since a variety of machines showed a gruesome fascination with reproducing different methods of executions with puppetry. The mechanic fortune tellers spit out mixed forecasts of my future, and my luck definitely took a turn for the worse as I lost to Rich at wind-up races for horses, cars, and even firemen going up ladders. Still, a handful of quarters is pretty cheap entertainment by California standards.

Other great deals were nights at the museum. The DeYoung Museum was completely free with an experimental band playing in the hall. The tower afforded lovely views of the San Francisco skyline, and Rich and I got our hands dirty learning to make felt for an interactive project by the artist-in-residence. The California Academy of Sciences Nightlife was a reduced priced ticket for adults only to explore the wonders of the Philippine coral reef exhibit – hey, we just saw those guys! -, wander up the spiral walkway in the glass-encased tropical rainforest, or take in a show at the Planetarium. With the bartenders – or are they all mixologists in San Francisco? - serving up cocktail specials and a rooftop garden, it's the coolest night spot in town. As a nod to the Outside Lands Festival dominating the rest of Golden Gate Park, there were concerts in the back garden and even a DJ inside playing Damon Albarn's funky beats!

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

North America

Yosemite National Park, CA, Part II (United States)

The brochure on Yosemite they hand you at the entrance gives horrifying yet darkly humorous warnings about bears (“Keep food within arm's reach, in a food locker, a bear-resistant canister, or hard-sided hotel room.”) and mountain lions (“Pick up children so they look larger. Attacks are rare, but if you are attacked, fight back.”) But after a good night's sleep in one of the last remaining rooms in nearby Groveland, we discovered the real danger to us was forest fires. If we hadn't seen the line of fire trucks just outside of town, driven past scorched trees and through billowing smoke, a road-side Smokey Bear was holding up a sign with the hazard level marked “High” each day of our visit there.

Though the popular trails can be teeming, Rich was happy to find that taking a side trail, or indeed, any in the high country quickly thinned crowds to a mere handful. The hike to Sentinel Dome was one such and afforded 360-degree views including some of the park's biggest stars: El Capitán, Lower and Upper Yosemite Falls, Half Dome, and Clouds Rest. Man, this place is awesome! ...and I mean that in the truest sense of the word, or as Eddie Izzard puts it, “1000 hot dogs awesome.” Eavesdropping on a big family, the rock climbers in the bunch were regaling their audience with stories of how long it took to find a free climb route up The Nose of El Capitán – 14 years! Evidently, climbers tackling the 3000-ft granite monolith sleep in bivouac sacks anchored to the rock face and wake every couple of hours in the night to put balm on their fingers in an attempt to regrow the skin. Yikes!

Taft Point is an overlook that requires a measure of courage itself. What may look like narrow cracks in the wide expanse of granite are actually deep fissures you can actually see drop down to the valley floor 3500 ft below. You can walk right up to the edge – although crawling is a much, much safer option - to look over the side, at least until the vertigo gets the better of you. A family of Spaniards – I suppose we were visiting in August – were giving their mother panic attacks with their antics. ¡Hostia!

It is, arguably though, a better view than at Glacier Point, which is where all of the coach buses and RVs seem to empty out. Good spot for people-watching. I saw a Japanese tourist taking dozens of photos with a giant lens, which I know a friend once paid $1000 just to rent, then whip out his iPhone for a selfie. Seriously?! We did get to speak to a retired ranger/fire crew boss about the forest fires, and he also shared his ax to grind about another agency – the U.S. Forest Service, which allows logging and mining on the land it manages.

The Mariposa Grove was closed for restoration so we stopped into the Tuolumne Grove to see the giant sequoias. Related to the coastal redwoods we saw in Muir Woods, these titans are even more impressive. Sequoiadendron giganteum, growing up to 85 m (~279 ft) in height and 8 m (~26 ft) in diameter, is the largest living thing in the world. There was one in the grove with an old picture of someone driving a coach and horses through the gap in the bottom! You can crawl through a tunnel created by the hollowed trunk of another felled giant sequoia. Rich took the opportunity to do a Bran Stark impression engulfed in its gnarled roots.

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North America

Central Valley and Yosemite National Park, CA (United States)

Hearing about the California drought in the news all the time, and people buying up land just for the water rights like a nightmare out of Dune, it was fascinating driving through the agricultural behemoth that is the Central Valley. Farmers here grow over 200 different crops, providing a third of all produce grown in the U.S. We drove past livestock grazing determinedly in yellowed pastures and reservoirs with depths of exposed rock showing shockingly low water from historic levels. The only breaks in the parched earth were patches of directed irrigation to each fruit tree or crop row... and some bastards' houses with suspiciously green lawns. In a landscape that hearkens back to the Dust Bowl, how is that even allowed?!

On a positive note though, we were headed to Yosemite! One of the first National Parks and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, people have been lobbying to protect it one way or another since the mid-1800s. Covering roughly 750,000 acres (~300,000 hectares), this huge tract of wilderness in the Sierra Nevada Mountains attracts nearly 4 million tourists each year. Inside there is a free shuttle bus system to the different trail heads and visitor centers, a brilliant idea to cut down the traffic in the park and chaos of finding parking. Following the ranger's suggestion – and what looked like everybody else's plans - we stretched our legs on the hike from Happy Isles to Vernal Fall and onward to Nevada Fall via the Mist Trail. Why they are officially called “Fall” and not “Falls,” I have no idea. The trail follows the Merced River, and even with the drought, the steep drops of the falls are impressive. A good workout, too, as it's about 600 steps in the granite. Random people passing us made references to the Denver Broncos, and it took us a while to solve the mystery. Rich's Durham Bulls cap looked remarkably similar to a Broncos one: Both are animals with steam coming out their nostrils jumping through a big orange D on a blue background. Weird!

After working up a sweat, the open stretches of Emerald Pool and Silver Apron Beach at the midpoint start to look mighty fine for a swim if slipping to your death weren't a real hazard. The scenery flattens out a bit at the top of Vernal Fall in pretty much the idealized version of mountain stream in the woods - an idyllic spot for a picnic and dip for tired feet.  Heading back down via the easier John Muir Trail gave us nice views back toward Mount Broderick and Liberty Cap. Much to our chagrin, the whole loop – only 5.4 miles (~8.7 km) - took us over 6 hours... but, hey, the gain in elevation was 2000 ft (~610 m)!  

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North America

Stinson Beach and Point Reyes National Seashore, CA (United States)

Feeling a little peckish, we stopped off in Stinson Beach in Marin County. The west coast town reminded us of our favorite Ocracoke with its art galleries, beach-themed shops, and daytrippers headed out to the sand. Lunch was fine, if a bit pricey, and we were pleasantly surprised by the live music. The older gal in flounced skirt, cowboy boots, and black stetson, chatting and making the rounds on the deck, ended up being the frontman of the band. We abandoned our misconceptions when they launched their set. A penchant for Serge Gainsbourg manifested itself in a charming style they were calling “Francobilly.”

Wandering back and forth in a GPS-dead zone, we eventually found Duxbury Reef. The marine protected area is one of the largest shale reefs in North America. We had intended to spend a few hours indulging in a pastime of Rich's childhood that I had never experienced: exploring tidal pools for urchins, starfish, and other sea creatures. Sadly, our delays meant that we arrived to find the tide was up, and there would be nothing to see for hours.

We caught a feel for what we missed in the exhibits at the Bear Valley Visitor Center of the Point Reyes National Seashore. There was even a display of nudibranches, the psychedelic-colored mollusks found at the reef, albeit crocheted versions from some local crafter.  How twee! There are 150 miles of trails at Point Reyes, but we only managed the Earthquake Trail on our brief pit stop. Interpretive signs about plate tectonics and its related damage dot the trail since the park is located on the infamous San Andreas Fault. Blue posts mark where one section of fence jumped 16 feet away in the devastating 1906 quake, which begs the question, "Where is The Rock when you need him?"  

Golden Gate Bridge and Muir Woods, CA (United States)

We figured the payment for a red-eye flight would come in physical discomfort rather than our wallets. What we didn't bargain for was the additional 1.5 hours in line in the middle of the night at the rental car office at the San Francisco. Why did we even bother making reservations if walk-ins were in the same queue? Their slogan should be “Thrifty - You Get What You Pay For.”

After a few hours of shut eye, we got back into the rental car and headed north. This route actually put us driving onto the Golden Gate Bridge. This icon of San Francisco, of California even, has spanned the 3-mile-long channel between the bay and Pacific Ocean since 1937. The bridge is popular with photographers (of course), pedestrians, bicyclists, and sadly, jumpers. This once longest suspension bridge in the world can also lay dubious claim to second most popular for suicides, since, if impacting the water at 75 mph didn't kill you, the hypothermia will finish the job.

On the other side of the bridge, we observed self-induced personal anguish. Road racers were pedaling up the punishing hills of Marin county. Sure, the scenery was ace with glimpses of the crashing waves on rocky coasts and evergreen forests. But you're still on scorching pavement, being passed none too gently by impatient SUVs and Route 1 convertibles, and going steadily - or more often, very wobbly - uphill. Just witnessing the Sisyphean struggle was akin to the pangs I feel watching those miserable sods who ski cross-country on TV, and those are Olympians!

Muir Woods National Monument - named after naturalist John Muir - was our opportunity to see the old-growth coastal redwoods. We weren't the only ones. The parking lots and subsequent shoulders of the road were packed, and we heard German, Japanese, Spanish, and French in the visitor's center. Amazingly though, most of the crowds heeded the signs for respectful quiet on the trails - even the Filipinos! Of course, there is always that one guy, and curiously enough, tonight's role was played by a Canadian sports fan loudly pontificating on his team's prospects for the season. Aside from this minor disturbance, peace and tranquility reigned in the Bohemian and Cathedral Groves. In the latter, there is even a plaque commemorating an earlier visit from international folks – delegates in town to draft and sign the United Nations Charter - to honor President Franklin Roosevelt, who died shortly before he was to open the conference.

The majestic Sequoia sempervirens can grow up to heights of 115 m, roughly 380 ft, and the trail along the ridgeline offered an interesting perspective. For most trees, it would have been high enough to down onto them, but since these are redwoods, it just meant the neck strain looking up wasn't quite so severe. The cool temperatures under the canopy were such a nice respite from the brutality of a North Carolina summer, and the forest floor was covered in a riot of ferns and clover with leaflets the size of quarters. Maybe it's the jet-lag speaking, but we felt like even the fresh air had a different quality to it, positively exhilarating with all of that photosynthesis pumping oxygen into the environment. The coastal redwoods can live 1200 - 1800 years. It's crazy to think that the entirety of our nation's history could be reduced to only a fraction of their tree rings. Not so crazy – and maybe this is the O2-mainlining talking – to imagine these giant inhabitants as ents from the Lord of the Rings.

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North America