Kudle Beach

Hey folks, long time, no post.  I haven’t wanted to half-ass a post, yet I have not been much inspired…Double damn.  My resolve: embrace the beach life, get lazy, show the pics and get back to the surf.  So, here are the pics.  A day in the life of Kaci & Jay on Kudle Beach involves…..Waking up at sunrise.  I can’t seem to turn off the alarm on my cheap Timex and still get up at sunrise.  Jay & I head to the beach for a quick run in the surf and then roll around in the sand, contorting our bodies into various yoga positions.  Then on to  a rinse in the Arabian Sea and a breakfast for 2:  omelettes, coffee and toast for a grand total of $2.25.  Next, we might sit on our porch and read together, head into town or maybe take a nap (ahem, Jay).  Sunset is a celebration on the beach complete with drum circle, fire twirling and many, many dreadlocks.  Dinner is veg Indian food and followed by more time on the porch or taking in a seaside movie at a guest house nearby.  Rolling power outages limit our time online and cinema going, but other than that, life is just groovy.

While it may sound like we are just hanging, we did take a 5 day course at Namaste Yoga Farm last week.  It was a hefty schedule for these 2 beach bums.  Namaste, friends and fam!

To the Be or Not to Be: Benilaum Beach (Goa) & Kudle Beach (Karnataka), India

Just pics for now, text to come…

Into Bombay by Jay

After arriving at the airport in Bombay, we have the driver from the hotel where we are to stay collect us and off we go.  My first impression of Mumbai (Bombay)…The city is only partially lit, like there is some sort of roaming power outage going on.  Here and there I can see tall, newer type buildings, most without lights.  The internet weather had called for clear skies and 70 degrees.  Is this some sort of fog that keeps me from seeing clearly the tops of the buildings?  The obvious dirt covering the even newer buildings tells the story.  It is pollution in the air that keeps me from seeing the tops.

We are informed of our need for fuel and a stop is necessary.  No big deal, I think.   When we pull into an abandoned gas station, dark and looking pretty beat up, I am pretty alarmed.  As men come out of the shadows, I realize it isn’t closed at all.  The driver rolls down his window just enough to put his hand out to give the attendant some money.  After what seems like a small amount of fuel, we move out and circle around.  The driver shuts off the rattling diesel engine and we sit in the dark.  I start to get uneasy and I ask why we are waiting. 

“To get the money.”

We are waiting for change. 

Moving back out into the street, our driver is all business.  With his hand more on than off the horn, we blast through the dark streets with little help from our hardly noticeable headlights.

Running every light, whether it is red or green, we enter the lower market area.  I squint as I try to discern what I am seeing.

Bodies….So many partially clothed, dark bodies.  I can hardly see space between them.  Here and there I see a pile on the ground.  Piles of trash?  No, this is the market.  In the predawn hours, what I took for small mounds of trash are heaps of produce.  The extremely poor, wearing dirty rags for clothing, dart back and forth across the street coming uncomfortably close to our speeding SUV. 

Out of the corner of my eye to the right, I see an oddly vacant area along the sidewalk.  Half on and half off the walk lay a man.  He is only wearing dirty shorts, laying on his back, head and arms twisted down in the gutter.  This man has experienced his last near miss.  Mumbai makes Athens seem much more tame. 

We speed on, passing oxen and large 15 foot wooden tables with wheels at their center, handles on both ends and filled with all kinds of unnamed foods, building materials and the like.  Men are pushing them through the streets.  Women walk with large baskets balanced on their heads and lots of small children wear almost nothing. 

A man in a car comes up beside us and looks in at Kaci and me.  The driver speeds up and cuts him off.

As we clear the lower market, the traffic eases and we duck from small street to small street.  Amongst 200-year-old British architecture and modern cement boxes, dark, dimly lit mold colored buildings of the south end. 

So this is the nice “tourist” part of Mumbai.  With a long blast of the horn, we come to an abrupt stop and the night guards at our hotel come out to shoulder our bags.

TRAVEL UPDATE:  We exited Mumbai on New Year’s Eve to the sunny, tranquil shores of the Arabian Sea at Benilaum Beach.  On Wed. 1/6, we will head south to the Hindu pilgramage town of Gokarna.

Dubai Inc. in 10 Hours

The brilliant white robe of a passing security guard tears me from my reverie and reminds me once again that I am far, far away from the United States.  He passes by soundlessly, the trail of his ankle length robe flutters behind him.  His long head scarf trails down his back.  The white of his robe and head scarf are the perfect contrast to his carmel skin.  This man is the same security guard who stopped Jay at customs at 4:40 am, opened his tiny man bag and searched every item inside.    Now , an hour later, Jay & I sip on a $6 coffee from The Coffee Bean.

When the Metro opens at 6 am, we head towards the Mall of the Emirates to check out the indoor ski run and head to the beach.  Although all of the stores are closed, but the building is open.   The stores bear familiar logos:  Lucky, Gucci, De Beers and Coach.  Jay and I have gone to malls in a few different countries to watch movies, but I have not seen so many recognizable brands until here in Dubai.  We pass many security guards.  They all say, “Good Morning Sir, “  which is my only reminder that I am not in Phoenix or Albuquerque.

The long flight has left us both feeling groggy.  We hail a cab and ask where the closest beach is.  As we negotiate the price for the cab, the cabbie’s attitude towards me reminds me once again that I am  “carrying a vagina,”  as my friend Candace would say, and it is not considered appropriate for me to take part in these  conversations.

The sun  is fully risen and shining bright as Jay and I arrive at the beach.  I spread out a sarong and we stretch out.  Immediately, we both fall into a deep sleep for about an hour.  We wake up to find the beach teeming with people.  The fine grain sand and blue water invite surfers and swimmers.  The women are dressed in all sorts of swimwear from teeny bikinis to long sleeves and pants.

In search of a bathroom, I walk a block up the road alone.  A car drives by me…once, twice, and on the third spin the window rolls down to reveal a dark-skinned man smiling and waving me over to the car.  I briskly walk back to the beach to find Jay.  To be fair, what I am wearing is kind of on the sexy side-long brown pants and a long-sleeved shirt that is 2 sizes too big .

Later, we head to a souk, aka fancy word for mall.  Again, I recognize a lot of the store names.  We head to the food court, hoping to find some sort of Mexican food.  No such luck , but there are Papa Johns, KFC, Cold Stone, Baskin Robbins, McDonalds and Magic Wok.  We decide to eat a traditional veg plat of greens, baba ganoush, tabouli and lentils.

We find a seat in the busy food court and watch a rainbow of people eating American, Italian, Arabic, Greek, Chinese and Japanese food.  Dubai is truly a melting pot of international culture and possibly, international consumerism.  As we eat, we start a conversation with an Indian woman sitting next to us.  She tells us that due to the heat of the desert, the malls are always busy because people live most of their lives inside.  She also mentions that everyone tends to get along, despite their cultural differences.  Apparently, when there is a dispute in Dubai, the police arrest everyone involved.

We are very groggy from or overnight flight and getting ready to get on another, so we decide to nix skiing at the mall and head to the Metro.  As we wait for the train, the guards yell at us to move down.  We are confused, but since they are the ones with the rifles, we immediately obey.  We get on the train and notice that the guards are simply working to make a female only car for the muslim women entering the train.  These women are wearing full burkas, with only their eyes showing.

Earlier in the day, I watched many women dressed in burkas walk through the mall.  I wondered what they were buying?  Things for their husbands or children?  I didn’t see any burka stores in the mall.  Then I notice their shoes-gorgeous, colorful-Gucci, Jimmy Choo….I look at their bags-Coach, Prada, Louis Vuitton.  Dubai, home of the International Shopping Festival, and another crazy place on the planet.

Random Pictures of Athens

The Only Way Out of It…..Athens-Nafplio-Athens

Jay and I left Kalymnos in Dec. 14th via an overnight ferry to Athens.  We headed to Athens in a hurry, trying to secure our visas for India before Christmas.  We arrived in Pireaus, the port town closest to Athens, at 9 am on Dec. 15th.  After 2 bus rides and a trip on the Metro, we had checked back into “Dead Guy” Hostel, the place we stayed at on our last trip to Athens, around 11 am.  The staff at the hostel are great and almost make up for the neighborhood that the hostel is in.  The angel at the front desk mapped out the Indian Consulate location for us while I jumped online for a moment and Jay put our things in the room. 

While online, I discovered the visa issuance was outsourced to a location other than the consulate and that the visa center closed at 1 p.m.  It was 11:45. 

I grabbed Jay.  We ran out of the hostel towards the metro, verbally comparing and contrasting the documents we needed and the ones we actually had with us.   After donating Jay’s card to the ATM machine, we jumped on the metro towards the Indian Consulate while I attempted to figure out where the visa application center was in relation to where we were going.  It seemed like it might be nearby.

Exiting the metro at Syntagma Square, Jay & I found ourselves standing in front of the Parliament building.  The visa center is on Visalis Sofia St.  Jay asked a nearby police officer where the street was.  Turns out we were almost standing on it.  It was then that we looked up and realized we were in the middle of an impending riot.  On one side were hundreds of young demonstrators, dressed mostly in black, carrying signs and yelling.  On the other side were hundreds of policed dressed in full riot gear.  They were both on Visalis Sofia St which was closed down to traffic.  The students were 100 yards to our left and coming towards us and the police were 20 yards to our right. 

We weren’t sure which way we needed to go, but right seemed like the best choice.  Jay grabbed my hand and we ran through the lines of police.  Lucky for us, we were immediately dismissed as non-threatening Malakas (Greek word for wanker).  Block after block, we passed rows of police with shields, batons, tear gas and stun guns.  No one asked us any questions.  The police merely looked at us with curious expressions, wondering what these 2 Malakas were doing running through their barricades.

My roommate in the U.S., Patrick, has a dog that is a lab/corgy mix.  His name is Bob.  Bob has the body of a lab with the legs of a corgy.  When people see Bob, they tend to smile…maybe even giggle a bit.  Running through the lines of Athenian police and special forces, I got a glimpse of how Bob must feel when he meets strangers.

Old buildings in Athens were built quite large.  We needed to get to 122 Visalis Sofia.  We started at 12.  After clearing 8 blocks of police and 5 blocks of regular traffic,  Jay & I were seeing numbers like 34.  We hailed a cab and made it to the visa center at 12:47.  The people at the visa center were stunningly kind and assured us that our visas would be ready for pick up on Dec. 23rd at 4:30.

Upon arriving back at the hostel, Jay & I were agitated, exhausted and anxious to get out of the city.  As Jay often says, “The only way out of it is into it.”  We had been into it in Athens and now we were ready to be out of it. 

On Dec. 17, we headed for Nafplio, the original capital of Greece.  Nafplio is in the Peloponnese area of Greece, ancient home of the Spartans.  Nafplio is a gorgeous place to visit.  The Palamidi Fortress sits high atop the city (a rumored 999 steps above it), overlooking the sea.  The city is much quieter than Athens and there were Christmas celebrations over the weekend in the town square.

Unfortunately, Jay spent most of our time there in bed with horrible stomach pains.  Somehow he did not notice that it had been about 5 days since he “dropped the kids off at the pool.”  When he did drop the kids off, it was lucky that we were the only guests in our hotel.  Judging by the profanities coming out of the bathroom, those were some very bad kids.  It has been a slow recovery for him.  His stomach is running at about 80% and is still pretty sensitive. 

We arrived back in Athens on Dec. 22nd and have caught some of the sights around town we missed on our first trip here. 

My dad has 2 radiation treatments left and then is finished with the chemo/radiation treatment schedule.  To say he is ready to be finished with these treatments would be an understatement.  He will continue to “eat” through his feeding tube for at least a month and is very, very tired.  The tumor is gone to the touch and my family and I pray for full healing.

TRAVEL UPDATE:  We picked up our passports on Dec. 23rd without a problem.  Today is Christmas and we are headed to Dubai, United Arab Emirates, where we have a 1 day layover.  We plan to get transit visas and tour the town.  When we leave Dubai, our final destination is Mumbai, India.  I absolutely cannot wait to get there!  As you may have guessed by the cadence of this post, I am more than ready to exit Athens.  If the rhythm of life is like a river, Athens is a Class 6 rapid.  I like to flow at about 2.  I think Mumbai may be like a waterfall, but our hope is to spend a couple of days in the city and then move onto the country.

My wishes to you and yours for a happy, healthy and abundant New Year!  Namastay.

Kalymera Kalymnos!

Kalymnos, Kalymnos, Kalymnos you are so beautiful, relaxed and generous.  Your oranges, mandarinos, lemons, pomegranates, tomatoes and cucumbers tasted like pure heaven and I will miss you.  Your people truly exhibit pure philoxenia (love of strangers) and Jay and I were taken aback again and again by your kindness.

A few examples of your generosity: 

1. Our neighbor, Pappi, who works fulltime while raising 3 children, knocked on our door several times a week bringing her heart-warming smile, arms filled with dishes of delicious Kalymnian faire.  Yannis, her husband, explained that Kalymnians believe in giving a plate of food away, symbolizing giving a plate to Jesus.
2. While perusing ice cream bars at the grocery store, we noticed that all of the ice cream bars were in boxes.  We did not want a whole box, just 2 ice cream bars.  When we asked if they could be sold separately (like we had seen in the past),  the store manager tried to give us a free quart of ice cream. 
3. On the way to the beach, Jay reached into the orchard in our front yard to pick a couple of mandarins for the walk.  The neighbor started yelling at us in Greek.  It appeared to us he thought we were stealing.  I got nervous and began trying to tell him that we lived on the property.  He grabbed the mandarins out of Jay’s hands, threw them on the ground while saying, “This is bullshit.”  (Apparently, the only English phrase he knew).  Then he led Jay further into the orchard to pick mandarins from the “good” tree.
4. Need a ride?  Stick out your thumb and you will be taken anywhere you want to go.  Seriously.  Jay and I lived near the grocery store.  On one occasion, we asked the guy driving to drop us off at the grocery store.  He pulled into the parking lot, said, “Ok, we are here.  I wait and then where we go next?”  Instances like this happened over and over again.
5. Miss the bus?  Merely raise your hand ANYWHERE on the bus route and the driver will stop.  Taking the bus to an out of the way climbing crag?  Not sure where it is?  The bus driver will stop at every crag until you find the right one.
6. Do you run the kiosk in Ellies Square?  Is it your birthday?  Why not give out free beers to others to celebrate?  Will you have one?  Of course not, you are working.

Kalymnos, you are like a big, warm hug and I will forever be grateful for the time I got to spend with you.

TRAVEL UPDATE:  Papa Red, Jay’s big Northface backpack, fell under the spell of Lady Kalymnos and has decided to leave us to remain with her.  He takes with him our Mammut Rope so he can enjoy the 1000+ sport climbing routes on the island.  Lucky for Papa Red, it is tradition in Kalymnos that every Kalymnian father must build a house for his Kalymnian daughter, so accommodation will not be a problem.  We all parted on good terms and we wish him the best.  Little Red, Jay’s Black Diamond Backpack, has really stepped up to the plate and is handling his dual role of travel pack and day pack just fine.

Seeker vs. Sampler

A year ago, if you asked me for 1 word to describe myself ,without hesitation my reply would have been “seeker.”  What was I seeking for?  Today, I am not sure, but back then I spent a lot of time reading, writing and wondering about what the right “fit” was for me.  I felt pressured and believed that if I looked hard enough, the answer would be revealed to me.  As if I would ponder and ponder and ponder and then *poof*  the right job, car, house and religious practice would appear.

These days, I describe myself as more of a “sampler.”  I do not desire the one right fit, whether it be the perfect black dress or where I have my mail delivered.  There is so much of life to experience.  How can I deny my senses the opportunity to try new things by cementing myself to one?

For example, I could dedicate all of my free time to rock climbing, but what does that cost me?  What other experiences do I give up in the time I spend climbing?  In the past, I have tended to dive headlong into things and dedicate myself to them completely.  A week, month or year later I become disillusioned.  (If you don’t believe me, just ask me to email you a copy of my resume and you’ll see what I mean).

I have the courage and brains to pursue anything I’d like, but my search for the ONE ultimate joy in life has been in vain.  Well folks, I choose to abandon the search.  Instead, I will sample.

I will become an organic gardener-for a season.  I will live in a tent in the woods-for 2 months.  I will bicycle miles upon miles and then never bicycle again.    I will learn a foreign language.  Hell, I may learn 10.  Above all, I will remember that for me the joy is in the journey.

Surely, some of my loves in life will remain constant:  a closeness with nature, visits to the library, writing, interest in spirituality and philosophical talks with friends.  However, the expression of these passions will change as I spend my time sampling all this gorgeous world has to offer.

One day, Jay and I discuss these ideas as we head down the hill from a climbing area on the North end of the island.  We discuss seeking and sampling and the difference between the two.  Jay stops in the middle of the road to point out a goat that is standing in a tree eating leaves from the highest branches.  We turn our head sideways and crane our necks in different directions to try to understand how the goat got into the tree.

A car pulls up and the driver asks if we would like a ride.  As we climb in, we are once again amazed at the pure kindness of the people on the island.  We hadn’t even had time to stick our thumbs out.

Our driver, Andres, embodies all the attractive elements of being Greek.  He is tall, thin, with sparkling brown eyes, a gorgeous olive complection and jet black hair.  He is easy-natured, kind and his English is very good.  I would guess that Andres is somewhere in his late 30s.

He tells us that he loves to travel and his work as a scuba diver has taken him all over the world.  Jay, Andres and I discuss our wanderlust as he drives us into town.  Andres says people on the island do not understand why he loves to travel and think he is a bit strange.  As he talks, Jay and I nod and murmur sounds of understanding and camaraderie.  He says his wanderlust makes him feel isolated at times, but he feels alive while planning his trips and seeing new places.  Andres goes on to say that he is getting ready for a job in India.  He will leave in the next week and is really excited.

As we drive, I remember how a friend sent me off in the States by saying, “Have a good trip.  I hope you find what you are looking for.”  I ask Andres if he has ever heard this phrase.  As soon as the words leave my lips, he slams on the brakes and the car screeches to a halt.  I lunge forward, recover and then turn to look at Andres.  Jay is still tumbling around the backseat, caught in our climbing gear, when Andres turns to look at me.

Andres, red-faced, eyes flashing and using hand gestures known only to the Greeks, says, “Why the fuck would someone say this?”

I laugh until tears form in my eyes and stream down my face.

“I don’t know, Andres,”  I say, “But I’ll be sure to ask the next person who does.”

Thank You America!

TRAVEL UPDATE:  If anyone out there has any info or contacts for practicing yoga in Southern India for a month or so, please let Jay or I know.  Also, if you have any guesses on how to have books delivered to us in Greece (like a Grecian Amazon or Barnes and Nobles), please pass it along.  We have a month left on Kalymnos and haven’t yet learned how to read in Greek . 

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU

I would like to reach through this sterile computer screen to grab onto and hug each and every person who sent my dad a card last week.  What an inspiration you people are!

Last week, my dad’s treatment was a roller coaster.  He began Round 2 of chemo last Monday.  He receives chemo in 1 all day trip to the hospital followed by 3 days of wearing a fanny pack filled with liquid chemo delivered through a port attached to his chest.  In addition, he gets radiation on his neck 5 days a week.  All of this treatment for a man who up until a month ago has only been to the hospital to get stitches.  On Wed., he lost his voice and also began vomitting.  He couldn’t keep anything in his belly and was feeling so horrible that the doctors decided to temporarily stop radiation.  Although his reaction to chemo and his doc’s decision to take a break from radiation are both normal and to be expected, the news was pretty devastating for my family.  The letters, cards and pictures in the mail really brightened his spirits and my mom’s.

My mother is one of those people who can see the beauty in just about anything.  However, this week was very stressful, tiring and just plain depressing.  Receiving the cards and letters reminded her how beautiful and kind the world can be.

My dad is doing much better now.  On Friday, he started to keep “food” in his belly and his voice came back as well.  I was able to talk with him on Sunday and both he and my mom sounded rested and positive. 

My dad has never been a sentimental sort of guy.  In fact, one could say he can be pretty gruff-a no nonsense, man’s man kind of guy.  When he picked up the phone on Sunday, all he could talk about were the cards and letters he received.  He sounded warm and happy.  Thank you.

Buzz Kill: Kalymnos, Greece

TRAVEL UPDATE:  We have signed on for another month in Kalymnos.  The climbing here is great, the weather is amazing and the rent is cheap.  In January, we are looking to travel from here to the coast of Turkey.  From what we have discovered, the climbing areas will be a little cold for the gear we are currently carrying so we are considering just cruising our way up to Istanbul.  We are also considering flying from Turkey to India sometime in January.  However, all of these plans are one moving piece and I’m not really even sure what we will do tomorrow .  If you have any tips/knowledge/input on any of these places, please let us know.   Since we are stationary for the moment, I’ll be updating the blog with some stories from our day to day life here on the island.  Here goes….   Much love, Kaci

There is a gap in the door of our studio.  It seems that in island building, the ideas of “level” and “square” are not an exact science.  Many doors do not seal open or shut, arches are unsymmetrical and you best not set your glass on any man-made ledge.  At least 10 mosquitos make their way in every night through this gap.

For some reason, they terrorize me over Jay.  I can’t begin to estimate the number of mosquito bites I have gotten since I left Colorado (it’s a lot).  Every night, I am woken up by “bzzzz” in my ear.  Their selectivity concerns me.  Am I sweeter?  Do they like my shampoo?  Is it because I sleep closer to the door?  I discussed this idea with Kaye, a fellow climber from the Bay Area.  She too is attacked nightly while her roommate sleeps peacefully.

“Are you O-?”  Kaye asks.  ”You must be O-.  Skeets like that blood best.”

Well, I don’t know (my blood type or what type of blood skeets prefer).  In any case, my ratio of mosquito bites to Jay’s is 2:1.  We are doing our best to help control the mosquito population here on Kalymnos and Jay heads up the nightly slaughter and I am second string.  Many methods have been empolyed.  First, we started off with a simple open hand clap-not effective.  So, we started snapping dish towels at them, effective, but not convenient at 2 am.  Also, Kalymnian mosquitoes are smart as hell and they hide in every hard to reach place in our 200 square foot studio.  

Eventually, we bought a fly swatter from the supermarket.  (Watching Jay imitate a mosquito getting killed by a fly swatter to communicate to the store clerk what we were looking was hilarious).   Now that we had tools, we moved to the Midnight Swoosh-swing the fly swatter over your head like a maniac at the first “bzz”.  This method turned out to be more dramatic than productive.  Next, onto the Lights On & Break, which involved turning on the lights and smacking the wall behind the headboard where the skeets normally land.  Between this method and my Serena Williams (jump off of the bed in an overhand tennis serve), Jay has repaired my fly swatter several times.  Jay’s latest method involves folding the sheets down about 2 feet before we go to sleep.  At the first “bzz”, we pull the sheet over our heads and slap ourselves.  In the morning, we collect the carcasses from the sheets.    This method seem to be working out pretty well.

Yep, there’s a gap in the door and there is more than one way to kill a mosquito.  As Jay likes to say, lesser men have done more.  Killing mosquitoes-just another opportunity to remember that this life is all about trial, error and evolving.