Overall cycle post

So it seems I will have to do an overall cycle blog, as I didn't get to it before. In fact the only place we found internet was in Keylong, where we spent three days trying to recuperate from the height, and Thomas was getting over mild sun stroke.

Our first day we cycled 35km and stopped just prior to our first pass
-the last 10 km was killer because of the height & the government guest house was a rip off

the second day we cycled 50? km and stayed in an abandoned house in our tent
-at top of the pass was crazy with tourists going on slow motion tubes in the snow, yak rides and snowmobiles.

The third day we cycled 35km to Keylong
-Thomas barely made the last 5 km as he was starting to get a fever.

We did a few rest days in Keylong, which weren't the most restful

The forth cycling day 50ish km and stayed in our tent just outside

The fifth cycling day we did our second high pass and cycled to Sarchu
-I barely made it up, Thomas helped pull me at the last bit.

We did a rest day in Sarchu

The sixth cycling day we did our 3rd high pass. There wasn't even anywhere to stop for tea after Sarchu. We stayed the night in a tiny little place. Only to discover the next morning that we had not completed the pass

The seventh cycling day we cycled the rest of the 3rd pass.
-I vowed not to cycle another pass. I was dead tired, had trouble catching my breath and just couldn't figure out why I would want to cycle up a pass. The next city to be reached was Pang, a rough dirt road all the way from the pass. About 10 km outside of Pang, Thomas has a good fall. His front rack is held on by two thin pieces of metal, that are often use to hold drains. The top one broke,  one of his front panniers fell off and he took a tumble.

Somehow I actually hear him when he calls. I get back, and have to lie him down, he's not good with the site of blood. A bus passes, and they stop, all offering assistance. I accept some iodine, a few larger bandages and some antibiotic cream. But I don't rea;;y need help, seeing as how I am (almost) a licensed paramedic, I can deal. I clean out his wounds with clean water, package him up, thankfully only road rash. But of course his worst spot his his right palm, which he managed to remove the skin on. Thankfully the first passing traffic in our direction (which was a fair wait) was a gas truck, which gave us a lift. In fact, our driver took us within 50 km of Leh, the closest city. Which is where we took a truck to the next day. We are staying in the white part of town.... but our room is both lovely and cheap, with a hot shower, which is what Thomas wanted most. I re-bandaged him up, and we both slept more than 12 hours last night, I think I managed 14. I feel spectacular, if somewhat out of it.

Greeting From India

Some of you may not know that I am currently on my extended honeymoon with my awesome new husband, Thomas. We decided to do a cycling trip in India.

After our wedding party in Germany, we flew from Berlin to Delhi. We high-tailed it out of Delhi (we landed early) to a couch surfing host in Indiri, near the city of Karal, north of Delhi. The 125km trip took us at least 3 hours as traffic is crazy in India. I'm not sure why they bother to paint lanes on the roads as nobody uses them. Also, slower traffic drives everywhere, which includes motorbikes, bikes, bicycle carts and horse & buggies. All of this traffic is to be found on highways, and it is common practice to careen into the next lane to pass a large truck hoping that there is no oncoming traffic. And the honking is incessant!

Our fist couch surfing host was certainly introduction into Indian society. I believe it drove Thomas crazy. It started out well enough, the first day was relaxing and some chat with our host and some of his friends at night. He had some plans for us the next day. After having not slept on the plane to Delhi, we were very tried. So having chai show up with a knocking at our window at quarter to seven was not fun. But we managed to roll over and go back to sleep.

Oh, I should tell you a little about our place & our host before I continue. Our host is in his 40's and is a retired coronal from the Indian army. We are staying in his guest house on his 50 acre farm land. There are ponds with catfish, a privately run public pool, greenhouses and fields. Our host doesn't come and pick us up until 3.

In the mean time we get picked up and taken for lunch at the house of the fisherman guy. He is the one that manages to fish in the fish farm/ lake. Of course they don't speak English. Their son speaks a smattering. Thomas finds the situation awkward.

I have been told on the phone we are being picked up at 3, going to the university, to a party, then to dinner in Karnal. We get picked up, not quite sure why we are going to this university-I guess it is free education and our host thought we would be interested. There had been mention of a holy city, but we are guests, so off we go. But low and behold when we arrive we go straight into a school ceremony of some sorts. We get to sit up on stage and listen to speeches in a language we don't even understand. And it feels endless. At least in the end we got to see some of the boys doing pole dancing. After it is finished, our host informs us he had no idea it was going on, but had to join them. We also have to go for tea after with the school's board members, which is a long drawn out pedantic affair, where three main people spoke and the other ten listened or occasionally asked a question. When we finally finish we are late for dinner.

It turns out dinner & the party are in fact the same thing. We have to drive into Karnal, about 45 minutes, we get there and then we are headed out to a farm, another 20 minutes. Our host is a local blue blood politician. Apparently due to his position he can't let loose at home, and only lets go with his family & foreigners. There is two couples in their 35-40's who both have kids, one guys who spent a long time in Montreal, the coronal & us. The two couples proceed to get shit faced. The politician gives the other lady a hard time for not drinking. Thomas & I are tired, hungry and not enjoying ourselves. We ask about dinner several times. Our hostess is kind, talks with us and tries to start dinner. The second time, about 2 hours after the first time I ask, our host insists we can't start dinner until I finish my drink. I only has the drink because he insisted I should. His wife actually had to get the other married guy to get the servants to start dinner. He was like a 17 year old boy. Everyone came to dinner, but he sat in the corner half asleep. Then we were supposed to get into his car and have him drive us home. We refused that arrangement and thankfully caught a ride with the guy they call the Canadian. He was like a drunk 17 year old. It confirms my feelings both for politicians & rich people, while some are great, there is way too many that are far from that. Of course the whole notion of servants bothers us as well.

Our next day started off with reading, then guests showed up for tea. We started putting our bikes together which took way too long. I lost a bolt and had other things to buy. And of course that day the real monsoons came and t was pouring. And the coronal decided he couldn't drive us and our bikes to the city where our bus left. And it was too late to take the bus or ride. And we had been pressed to stay longer. So we needed up having to stay. We didn't even see the coronal that evening as his farther was taken into the hospital with an infection.


At least the next day we got to cycle the 20 or so km to catch the bus to Manali. The bus left at 6pm and arrived around 7am. For some reason we had two long stops on the way, but about 2 hours apart. The end of the journey was crazy turns and I could hardly keep my stea. I think I spelt a little prior to dawn. Am I ever tired. Thomas & I are spending the nigh in Manali before heading out tomorrow on our cycle tour trek up the mountain. We are headed to Leh, and if that goes well, we shall head into Dras, which is supposed to be spectacular. From there we will bus down to Amritsar to be able to catch a train (we hope this will be swifter) to Agra, to see the Taj Mahal. From there we will go to see the shrines of . And then to Varanasi, the holy city. We have no idea what our time will be like, but we might head to Goa and do some cycling there and maybe into Kerala, but likely we won't have time. We'll see what happens.

My new cycling outfit

Brittaness-6, a photo by thebaconfairy on Flickr.

Went to the secondhand store yesterday and came back with a killer bike outfit!

Guatemala

Guatemala started off at Tikal park, which was both amazing an annoying. The Mayan sites in Mexico are way cheaper (I believe 1/3 if I recall correctly) and way better marked. The map cost extra and did the museum, so I did without. I was low on money and the principal of the thing just bothered me. I loved Guatemala, but disliked the real touristy places. I found there people were just trying to rip me off, mislead me and in general treat me like a dollar figure, everywhere else, however, was great. After Tikal I hit Guatemala city, where I had an awesome host. It was really crazy cycling around the city as it is altogether huge, the main roads are more like highways and there is lots of traffic. One of the interesting features was that although it sat on a pleasures, there was rivers in the middle that formed deep gorges where houses went down, like ours would up a mountain.  One day I did take a bus & my bike and cycled around Antigua, which used to be Guatemala city. I was informed that Guatemala city has moved three times.  This is the first place I have ever been to where the sidewalks were in better cycling conditions then the roads. Not only were the roads old cobble stone, but some of them have huge folds and divers running the entire length of the road. From  Guatemala city I headed back north to Coban, where I had hoped to visit a community tea farm and processing area in order to get information for project in Kenya-JustTea- that myself and some others are trying to start.  The visit turned out to be a bust as I had hoped they processed by hand only to learn they didn't. It did however,  allow me to Visit Semic Chempey, which is a beautiful river. Of course I hit the not liking tourists destinations again here. I should mention that Antigua is a very touristy spot, but I didm't have any problems there. I did cycle around off the main track and had lots of smiles, but I think because tourists don't leave the hub. As I was misinformed that the last bus out of the closeted town left at 4:00, I asked for a ride from  a truck parked there who was headed back to Coban and agreed to take me. I got to han  out in the back of a pickup truck and use my smattering of Spanish.  I had tried to bus from Coban to the boarder, but spent over two hours searching for bus stations there and in Guatemala city. Thank goodness I had a friend in Guatemala city who would let me stay the night. 

Belize

I loved Belize. I found the people really friendly. And it was such a relief that people spoke English. Signs dubbed it the melting pot of races, which it is. Belize was a state in Guatemala, but it was given to the British in exchange for a highway, that was never built.  Britain's main interest in Belize was sugar cane (this I made up, but believe to be true). In order to run the sugar plantations, many black slaves were brought in. In addition to the Mayan indigenous people and the former black slaves (likely a lot from Jamaica) there is a lot of white people, some recent, some not. There are Normans and even an Amish village, these are all white people, I believe they have been there quite a long time, why though, I do not know.  There is also a lot of Americans, Canadians and Europenas who like to live there as Believe does not tax foreign income. There is also a number of Chinese people, who I am told own almost every single grocery store. At one point it was possible to simply buy a Belize citizenship, I believe when Hong Kong went back to Chinese ownership, the not-quite-so-wealthy Chinese moved there. I met a Black girl there named Judith who gave me a short lift in her truck. Her husband was Canadian from the island.. They were both     real estate an gents, both in Vancouver and Belize. And was there ever a lot of for sale signs. Not sure how the locals afford it. I also went to what they call the smallest best zoo in the world, which if it hadn't been so dear I would call awesome.

Politics in Honduras

Honduras is a mess. I met two French Canadians there, one of them told me that the store on the corner of his block had been robbed at gun point at 1:30 that day. Why is Honduras a mess? Well the last government had the audacity to ask the American companies to pay minimum wage, to follow the local laws concerning working conditions and to pay for things like electricity. So that government got kicked out by a coup d'êtat.  Of course now, due to instability, the American companies are pulling out of the country.  Not only is there lots of violence, but there are very few jobs and everything is very expensive. Nicaragua and El Salvador are 30-40% cheaper. The unemployment rate for university graduates is 30%, for us that would be like having thirty percent of all PHD graduates unemployed.  I have been told the country was way better prior to the American complies moving in. So when you see made in Honduras, know that the article in question is a small piece of a bigger picture that is ripping a country apart.  And if you are Canadian and smug, I am afraid that win't cut it. The fucking conservatives have been cutting funding to projects, though the NGO's belonging to Canadian mines have no trouble getting funding. Because after pillaging, kicking people off the land and hiring people to intimadate ( maimings and deaths do happen) it is always kind to toss a few peas their way in recompense.  I do not fly the Canadian flag. I am not proud of my country. The Canadian mines are a huge factor in this, but by no means the whole story. 

Chicken Bus

I took my first real chicken bus (el chickon) leaving Guatemala city for the boarder. I had taken a chicken bus before, but chicken bus can really be a chicken bus unless it follows theses rules: A chicken bus must once have been a school bus A chicken bus must be re-painted and silver hood ornaments are what the cool kids do A chicken bus must stop for people in the most absurd places A chicken bus's passengers for the most part must only be going a quarter or less, in fact a real chicken bus has less then three passengers going the whole route.   A chicken bus must have a constant stream of food sellers every 15 minutes or so A chicken bus must have someone come on begging for money A chicken bus must have a chicken bus preacher enter for part of the time A chicken bus must have some form of entertainers enter, be it singers or clowns A chicken bus must exude excessive amounts of pollution A chicken bus must have at least one driver and money collector A chicken bus must have music, either provided by the driver or someone's cell phone A chicken bus must always have someone who is asleep I caught an unofficial chicken bus when I headed to Coban. I went up there (back towards Tikal park) to visit a tea plantation. What most of you will not know is that while travelling, my father hooked me into an Afrian tea project that a family friend is trying to start up. The project is called Just-tea and it is a brain child that came about after a trip to Kenya. It seems that the tea farmers there do not make enough growing to to earn a living. The thing is that they do not process the tea, only sell the Un-roasted leaves to a large plant. I believe some of it is then processed in Kenya and is then sent to England to finish the processing (I am not sure if this is only scenting and packaging). The biggest industry in Kenya is tea, it is also the most corrupt with the most bribes. The idea is to set up small hand processing tea roasting so that the farmers will then have a more valuable product to sell. We are looking at finding markets in the west to sell the tea, and personally I am interested in trying to get an African market because I know in Ghana, aside from gunpowder green tea the Muslims (mostly old men) drink, the only tea is Lipton. Which of course is bought from England. I am told it is the same in Kenya. I of course also want to see empowerment and de-westernized practices set up. Anyhow back to the bus. I managed to sit next to a 24 year old girl who spoke perfect English. She had grown up next to an American missionary family. I had a great time chatting with her. I also went to the most beautiful river, Semic Chempey and did some cliff jumping. The tea place was a bust though, not only was the tour not in English (I had phoned to ask), but they processed the tea by machines and I could not even take pictures of them. My first real chicken bus was from Guatemala to the boarder. The advertised route ended up with me needing to take two buses. I pestered the driver several times as to why I had paid twice what the ticket said. He never did explain, but I did figure it out. Between those who buses we had three traveling preachers board us.  I took a short bus to old Guatemala city, Antigua, and it had two clowns. One with the most awful voice who would yell. I also had a clown board a city bus in Guatemala city. Guatemala city does have official city buses, but the only time I tried to take one was to get to the chicken bus station and I had my bike, so they would not let me on.  Today I took my first bus with actual chickens (chicks in boxes), but by virtue of it being a real bus and it having air conditioning, it was not a real chicken bus.