We have some sad news to share, folks: We are no longer together. This will be our last blog post on Riding Out The Recession.
The reasons we didn't work out romantically are complicated and private. Contrary to what you might think, they don’t have much to do with this trip. In fact, we have been a pretty amazing traveling team. For both of us, this trip has been a source of incredible joy and among the most significant events of our lives. We will both treasure the experience.
We hope that everyone who has followed or participated in our travels still finds something here that inspires you about traveling, the world and its people. May you each find your own trust-fall with the universe.
As for our Plans B, we are both still in the process of sorting that out. Eric will continue posting at Riding the Iron Rooster.
Happier travels to you all, wherever they may take you.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Annual New Year's Letter
Allons! The road is before us! Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d! Let the tools remain in the workshop! Let the money remain unearn’d!
excerpted from “Song of the Open Road” by Walt Whitman
. . . even if they say it’s a recession!
excerpted from the 2009 Grumrose Mission Statement
Happy Twenty Ten, Folks,
In last year’s letter, I speculated that we’d be writing you today from Thailand; but as it happens, Eric and I are marauding about in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where we are gorging on the cuisine of Baba-Nyonya (literally, “grandpa & grandma”) and taking in fireworks over the Petronas Towers.
As you might expect, we’ve been riding out a sharp learning curve since we left on June 17. Speaking of which, let me share this helpful tip: When getting your hair cut in Bali, it’s probably best to keep things simple. A request for “layers,” for example, might yield a cut that more closely resembles a highly-terraced rice paddy than the one you had in mind.
This undertaking has certainly meant a few lifestyle sacrifices — including some of our vanity. On balance, though, we feel we are gaining far more than we are giving up. Not so surprisingly, many of our most rewarding adventures have included the culinary: fresh oysters at the Russian River; barbecued stingray from the Straits of Malacca; jellyfish salad in Singapore — well, that was revenge . . . but tasty, too; a bajillion savory pies in New Zealand; the Indian roti prata we shared for Christmas Eve dinner; our Christmas Day brunch of Chinese dim sum.
We do find ways to bring a little bit of “home” to our nomadic life. During that particular dim sum, we spied a kitschy “Merry Christmas” mug sitting upturned in the back of the kitchen — which Eric promptly asked if they might serve my coffee in. This evoked lots of giggling and nodding among the (mostly Buddhist) staff — and yes, a mug-ful of Christmas for me.
Above all, we’ve learned to trust chance and intuition, and our trust in human nature has only grown. We haven’t had to visit a police station or an emergency room, and in fact, have been graced with good health for most of the trip. And when we haven’t (see “jellyfish” above), we’ve been in good hands — perhaps unexpectedly so. (Both of us had experiences with the healthcare system in Bali that put the U.S. to shame — though we are encouraged by the recent reform, even if not ideal.)
Since we’ve been in Southeast Asia, much of our time is spent wondering, “What exactly are we looking at?” and even more often saying, “What part of this do you suppose is edible?” I can definitely relate to this passage from Neither Here Nor There by Bill Bryson:
Suddenly, you are five years old again. You can’t read anything, you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.
The division of labor helps. Eric is our designated negotiator for challenges of the (aforementioned) pedestrian variety, and I field the onslaughts from the rodentia and insecta classification. And when circumstances become too overwhelming or demanding (or just plain annoying), it is our custom to look for ways to make a game out of it. For instance, one of the major annoyances one must deal with in Ubud (Bali, Indonesia) is the constant repetition of the phrase “Taxi! Taxi!” at competitive decibel levels to any and all Western tourists. Fighting the urge to explain to every tout in Ubud that it is customary in the West for the person actually in need of a taxi to employ this phrase, we instead would place our bets on the number of times we would be shouted at before reaching our next destination. (The record was 25 in an 18-minute walk.) The winner gets the last mango . . .
(This game can be modified for sultry walks in the Malaysian jungle: Players must correctly guess the number and/or location of the leeches that will become affixed to their person.)
In addition to our little games, Eric’s impersonations — notably his Jimmy Stewart and his Carl Sagan — keep me squarely focused on the positive side of traveling, as do a plethora of sweet surprises on which we alight every day. One of my favorite moments was during an otherwise forgettable meal in Bali. In between bites of fish curry, I glanced up and saw a young boy off in the moonlight. He was about ten or so, and unaware that he was being observed. He was rocking his baby sister in his arms while singing a Balinese lullaby. And he was simply entranced. (This went on for nearly an hour.) More than all of the natural and manmade wonders we have or will encounter, I hope I never forget their moonlit dance.
Perhaps the biggest surprise is in what — or rather, whom — we miss. We knew we’d miss our families and friends; but we didn’t know how much that group would grow while we were on the road. In addition to our treasured old friends, we miss so many people we’ve met over the past six+ months. Beginning with our motorcycle travels in the U.S. and Canada — from Vail to Santa Fe to Carmel to Berkeley to Portland to Vashon Island to Anchorage — both islands of New Zealand, the sleepy little fishing village of Padangbai, Bali (our adopted home-away-from-home), and most recently Singapore and Malaysia — the best part of our adventure has been the folks we’ve met along the way.
Monday will be our 200th day on the road, and it’s also the day we arrive in India. We plan to start the year holed up in an ashram where we are sure to experience many more firsts — including my first commitment to a “pure-veg” diet, four hours of yoga per day, and 5 a.m. wake-up calls. In addition to the meat- and egg-free diet, we are to abstain from alcohol, caffeine, sex, talking during either of the day’s two meals — where did the other two meals go?! — or talking before morning prayer or after evening prayer; and there will be absolutely no garlic or onions, which apparently enliven our “baser instincts.”
We hope you’ll check back in now and then with us here and on Eric’s blog. (If you are just tuning in, this video montage will pretty much catch you up on the moto leg of our adventure - minus the rain, the breakdowns, the grizzlies, unique vantage points, the nitty gritty, and an homage to my spirit animal.) We’ll definitely keep you posted on our impending ashram experience . . .
To say “thank you” in Indonesian is more literally to say tell someone that you feel loved by that person. Well, Eric and I thank you for being part of the story of our lives on this planet, and for keeping us company from afar. We feel loved indeed, and are grateful to feel your presence as we continue that journey.
~ Julie Du., for the Julie & Eric show (“We are still together.”)
P.S. The obligatory kooky "holiday" photo taken on August 27th in North Pole, Alaska — just outside Fairbanks, at the end of the Alaska-Canadian Highway (the ALCAN).
excerpted from “Song of the Open Road” by Walt Whitman
. . . even if they say it’s a recession!
excerpted from the 2009 Grumrose Mission Statement
January 1, 2010
Happy Twenty Ten, Folks,
In last year’s letter, I speculated that we’d be writing you today from Thailand; but as it happens, Eric and I are marauding about in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where we are gorging on the cuisine of Baba-Nyonya (literally, “grandpa & grandma”) and taking in fireworks over the Petronas Towers.
As you might expect, we’ve been riding out a sharp learning curve since we left on June 17. Speaking of which, let me share this helpful tip: When getting your hair cut in Bali, it’s probably best to keep things simple. A request for “layers,” for example, might yield a cut that more closely resembles a highly-terraced rice paddy than the one you had in mind.
This undertaking has certainly meant a few lifestyle sacrifices — including some of our vanity. On balance, though, we feel we are gaining far more than we are giving up. Not so surprisingly, many of our most rewarding adventures have included the culinary: fresh oysters at the Russian River; barbecued stingray from the Straits of Malacca; jellyfish salad in Singapore — well, that was revenge . . . but tasty, too; a bajillion savory pies in New Zealand; the Indian roti prata we shared for Christmas Eve dinner; our Christmas Day brunch of Chinese dim sum.
We do find ways to bring a little bit of “home” to our nomadic life. During that particular dim sum, we spied a kitschy “Merry Christmas” mug sitting upturned in the back of the kitchen — which Eric promptly asked if they might serve my coffee in. This evoked lots of giggling and nodding among the (mostly Buddhist) staff — and yes, a mug-ful of Christmas for me.
Above all, we’ve learned to trust chance and intuition, and our trust in human nature has only grown. We haven’t had to visit a police station or an emergency room, and in fact, have been graced with good health for most of the trip. And when we haven’t (see “jellyfish” above), we’ve been in good hands — perhaps unexpectedly so. (Both of us had experiences with the healthcare system in Bali that put the U.S. to shame — though we are encouraged by the recent reform, even if not ideal.)
Since we’ve been in Southeast Asia, much of our time is spent wondering, “What exactly are we looking at?” and even more often saying, “What part of this do you suppose is edible?” I can definitely relate to this passage from Neither Here Nor There by Bill Bryson:
Suddenly, you are five years old again. You can’t read anything, you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.
The division of labor helps. Eric is our designated negotiator for challenges of the (aforementioned) pedestrian variety, and I field the onslaughts from the rodentia and insecta classification. And when circumstances become too overwhelming or demanding (or just plain annoying), it is our custom to look for ways to make a game out of it. For instance, one of the major annoyances one must deal with in Ubud (Bali, Indonesia) is the constant repetition of the phrase “Taxi! Taxi!” at competitive decibel levels to any and all Western tourists. Fighting the urge to explain to every tout in Ubud that it is customary in the West for the person actually in need of a taxi to employ this phrase, we instead would place our bets on the number of times we would be shouted at before reaching our next destination. (The record was 25 in an 18-minute walk.) The winner gets the last mango . . .
(This game can be modified for sultry walks in the Malaysian jungle: Players must correctly guess the number and/or location of the leeches that will become affixed to their person.)
In addition to our little games, Eric’s impersonations — notably his Jimmy Stewart and his Carl Sagan — keep me squarely focused on the positive side of traveling, as do a plethora of sweet surprises on which we alight every day. One of my favorite moments was during an otherwise forgettable meal in Bali. In between bites of fish curry, I glanced up and saw a young boy off in the moonlight. He was about ten or so, and unaware that he was being observed. He was rocking his baby sister in his arms while singing a Balinese lullaby. And he was simply entranced. (This went on for nearly an hour.) More than all of the natural and manmade wonders we have or will encounter, I hope I never forget their moonlit dance.
Perhaps the biggest surprise is in what — or rather, whom — we miss. We knew we’d miss our families and friends; but we didn’t know how much that group would grow while we were on the road. In addition to our treasured old friends, we miss so many people we’ve met over the past six+ months. Beginning with our motorcycle travels in the U.S. and Canada — from Vail to Santa Fe to Carmel to Berkeley to Portland to Vashon Island to Anchorage — both islands of New Zealand, the sleepy little fishing village of Padangbai, Bali (our adopted home-away-from-home), and most recently Singapore and Malaysia — the best part of our adventure has been the folks we’ve met along the way.
Monday will be our 200th day on the road, and it’s also the day we arrive in India. We plan to start the year holed up in an ashram where we are sure to experience many more firsts — including my first commitment to a “pure-veg” diet, four hours of yoga per day, and 5 a.m. wake-up calls. In addition to the meat- and egg-free diet, we are to abstain from alcohol, caffeine, sex, talking during either of the day’s two meals — where did the other two meals go?! — or talking before morning prayer or after evening prayer; and there will be absolutely no garlic or onions, which apparently enliven our “baser instincts.”
We hope you’ll check back in now and then with us here and on Eric’s blog. (If you are just tuning in, this video montage will pretty much catch you up on the moto leg of our adventure - minus the rain, the breakdowns, the grizzlies, unique vantage points, the nitty gritty, and an homage to my spirit animal.) We’ll definitely keep you posted on our impending ashram experience . . .
To say “thank you” in Indonesian is more literally to say tell someone that you feel loved by that person. Well, Eric and I thank you for being part of the story of our lives on this planet, and for keeping us company from afar. We feel loved indeed, and are grateful to feel your presence as we continue that journey.
~ Julie Du., for the Julie & Eric show (“We are still together.”)
P.S. The obligatory kooky "holiday" photo taken on August 27th in North Pole, Alaska — just outside Fairbanks, at the end of the Alaska-Canadian Highway (the ALCAN).
Monday, January 4, 2010
A Bit of Audience Participation, Please.
We know you've got 'em - those burning questions you are too polite to ask.
Now is your chance. What have you been wondering about our trip, about us, or the people and places we've visited? Don't be shy!
Feel free to direct your Qs to either or both of us, and heck - you can even ask me something about Eric (or Eric something about me). Be as broad or as specific as you like. You can even remain anonymous if you'd like.
Just leave a quick comment on this post or shoot us an email if you'd rather.
As I post this, we are just about to board a plane to India, where we'll be holed up in an ashram for a yoga retreat for a week or two (and away from our computers). We'll address the best of your Qs in a video later this month . . .
Now is your chance. What have you been wondering about our trip, about us, or the people and places we've visited? Don't be shy!
Feel free to direct your Qs to either or both of us, and heck - you can even ask me something about Eric (or Eric something about me). Be as broad or as specific as you like. You can even remain anonymous if you'd like.
Just leave a quick comment on this post or shoot us an email if you'd rather.
As I post this, we are just about to board a plane to India, where we'll be holed up in an ashram for a yoga retreat for a week or two (and away from our computers). We'll address the best of your Qs in a video later this month . . .
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Cosmos, Carl and Meteor Crater
During our motorcycle trip this summer, one stop in particular brought to mind one of my heroes: scientist, author, teacher and advocate for peace Carl Sagan.
Though certainly no substitute for the real thing, we offer this strange homage with a little help from the You TubeCopyright Infringement Special Effects Department.
Though certainly no substitute for the real thing, we offer this strange homage with a little help from the You Tube
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Our Christmas Eve in Little India
One of the things we've come to count on as we travel is that anything could happen at any time. On Christmas Eve, we sat down at a quiet little sidewalk table, ordered our dinner, and suddenly . . . well, you'll see . . .
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Highlights of the Cameron Highlands
A cool, misty agricultural region blanketing the west-central mountains of peninsular Malaysia, the Cameron Highlands provide the mainstay of Malay tea, as well as any number of other crops that benefit from its year-round tea-growing climate, including strawberries, watercress and flowers. It's also a place where crops you might not associate with "cool" and "misty" seem to thrive: succulents, cacti and even some citrus fruits.
We rarely opt for a guided tour, since they deprive us of the joys and challenges of finding our own (often much cheaper) way to interesting sites and since it sometimes feels akin to being cattle taken to slaughter to board a mini-bus full of other western tourists. Our time was so short in the Highlands, however, we decided to take an organized trip. And we're so glad we did!
For the first half of our visit, the weather offered a persistent drizzle and low-hanging clouds — a welcome change from the heat and humidity of our prior coastal abode, but hardly optimal for sight-seeing. Just as we were about to depart on the tour, however, the clouds lifted...
Video recorded on my first-generation iPhone with Cycorder (thanks, Jay!). Some of the artifacts in the video are known issues with pushing the iPhone beyond the limits of its flux capacitor. Still, a great new tool in our kit!
We rarely opt for a guided tour, since they deprive us of the joys and challenges of finding our own (often much cheaper) way to interesting sites and since it sometimes feels akin to being cattle taken to slaughter to board a mini-bus full of other western tourists. Our time was so short in the Highlands, however, we decided to take an organized trip. And we're so glad we did!
For the first half of our visit, the weather offered a persistent drizzle and low-hanging clouds — a welcome change from the heat and humidity of our prior coastal abode, but hardly optimal for sight-seeing. Just as we were about to depart on the tour, however, the clouds lifted...
Video recorded on my first-generation iPhone with Cycorder (thanks, Jay!). Some of the artifacts in the video are known issues with pushing the iPhone beyond the limits of its flux capacitor. Still, a great new tool in our kit!
Monday, December 21, 2009
A month in New Zealand
We're catching up on our video editing and blogging, thanks to some time staying put in Pulau Pangkor, Malaysia with a good internet connection. Hurray for disjointed storytelling!
And now, from our Kiwi Immigration Department, we bring you...
"Business Time" from Flight of the Conchords used with appreciation (and hopes of avoiding litigation).
And now, from our Kiwi Immigration Department, we bring you...
"Business Time" from Flight of the Conchords used with appreciation (and hopes of avoiding litigation).
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Curious monkeys
The town of Teluk Nipah is sandwiched between coastal beach and mountainous jungle. Instead of choosing one of the guesthouses along the beach - and the busy street that, after sunset, turns into a raceway for young men on mopeds - and went with a quiet chalet that butts up against the jungle.
This means that our porch is shared with the local macaques. Our porch, our roof, our clothesline . . .
This means that our porch is shared with the local macaques. Our porch, our roof, our clothesline . . .
Saturday, December 19, 2009
The hornbills of Pulau Pangkor
Let us introduce you to the wild hornbills of Pangkor Island, who are accustomed to a daily feeding. When the owner of the Sunset View Chalet comes out to the street at 6:45 each evening, dozens of the prehistoric-looking birds are already lined up.
Of course, the tourists are waiting, too! Half the fun is watching them fly in from the jungle and begin to congregate along the power lines on either side of the narrow street. It's mesmerizing to watch the agile birds swoop down to nab the bits of banana, bread, and coconut - which explains the fervor with which owner warns "Moto! Moto! Moto!" when it is necessary (which is often).
Of course, the tourists are waiting, too! Half the fun is watching them fly in from the jungle and begin to congregate along the power lines on either side of the narrow street. It's mesmerizing to watch the agile birds swoop down to nab the bits of banana, bread, and coconut - which explains the fervor with which owner warns "Moto! Moto! Moto!" when it is necessary (which is often).
Friday, December 18, 2009
Making prata in Singapore
This is the first video I made with my spiffy new camera - which I have on me so much more often than my video camera or my laptop. We have in mind to start posting more of these short snippets from our experiences around the globe.
A walk in the jungle
We're enjoying the beaches and island hospitality of Pulau Pangkor, an island just off the west coast of peninsular Malaysia. We've been here nearly a week and have spent most of our time on the beaches and perusing the main drag.
Today, though, we followed experienced hiker, fellow traveler and machete-wielding Johann on a hike into the inland jungle of this island, a place few people travel. He warned us of the possibility of encountering vipers (thankfully, we didn't, although we did see one of the largest spiders I've ever seen), and of the high likelihood of leaving the jungle with leeches attached to us.
"Leeches?!" I thought, skeptical. We weren't planning to ford any rivers, and all the leeches back home catch you in the water. In Malaysia, on the other hand...
Today, though, we followed experienced hiker, fellow traveler and machete-wielding Johann on a hike into the inland jungle of this island, a place few people travel. He warned us of the possibility of encountering vipers (thankfully, we didn't, although we did see one of the largest spiders I've ever seen), and of the high likelihood of leaving the jungle with leeches attached to us.
"Leeches?!" I thought, skeptical. We weren't planning to ford any rivers, and all the leeches back home catch you in the water. In Malaysia, on the other hand...
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