Tour for Equality

Letter from Australia

2005-08-30T09:16:00.000-04:00

Hey everyone,

Now that the Tour is over, I thought that the website would sort of go the way of a car on blocks in someone's backyard and just sort of wither away and die in plain sight. But before that happened, I got two letters from an amazing girl in rural Australia, and she gave me her permission to publish them on the blog. If you want to get in touch with her, let me know.

To: Tour for Equality
President R. Parker
I know this is a bit out of the blue -but can you guys come to austrailia? or rather remote aboriginal communitys in austrailia to help rise awareness?
a bit of back ground. I am sixeen years old and live on one, I have been here for three years after my mum got a job teaching at the local school after the divorce with my father. I am a girl and coming to the community there was/are a few rules to be followed, like no wearing skimpy clothes, mini's, tube tops, singlets and shorts, stuff like that, which is no biggie, being white I do get to wear long pants and jeans, though the local girls can't. Go jeans! The clothing rules though are not what disturbs me though, it's stuff like a 13 year old boy who I sort of knew from carpentry class gang raping a girl in adelide over the hol's with four other guys.
My brother who was then working at the concil office had to take his picture for some reason and had [his name] BRAG about it to him, saying stuff like, "I'm a man now" or this girl who was in my hairdressing class who nearly ended up as a second wife to this forty year old man, his first wife Lisa was fine with it and the only reason it did not happen was her mum said no, she was, like, 14 at the time.
Theres a lot worse stuff going on, like I know a girl who's maybe 13 or 14, who got given to guy whose on the concil who raped her and then got beaten by the guy's wife, like it was her fault she was sexully assulted by her husband.
Austrailia has a problem with how to "treat" the indiginous population so it tends to ignore them or make exuses and say "well, its part of their culture to rape women and kids and stuff so we should not interfer with that" and then there is all this crap about "Reconciliaion"and "equal rights" yet there is no equal rights for black women and kids.
Like this Elder held a 14 year old girl in his house for 4 days against her will, beat and raped her, including anally and he got 24 months in jail suspended after one month because he said "I did not know it was against the law", you see she was his "Promised Bride" and therefore in his culture it was fine.
What about her, did she know it was aganinst the law? nobody asked, in fact this act of violence against her was considered of such little value that it was not even on the news that night. If it had happened in the suburbs it would have been every where, on the news, on the frontpage every where, yet its like, people are going, well, she's just an abo girl so lets not rock the boat or upset anybody.
Black rights campangers get very, very upset over their men in jail. so umm, yeah, sorry for it to be such a downer of a letter cos I really think you people are great and rock and are really brave and smart and I could go on for about three hundred pages but that would be weird.

I think if we could just get some one who was not from oz to say "hey this is actully really quite bad" maybe somebody out there would do something. I mean most austrailians live in the suburbs or the city and do not realise whats going on in their own country or just don't care and I think that is really sad I talk to some of my old friends in melbourne (thats the capital of the state of Victoria, in case you wanted to know) and some of them so not even watch the evening news cos "its too depressing, lets talk about my new outfit" although Eve is known for being super-girly-girl.
Anyhow if you could reply it would be super good and I know there are a
lot of gaps in what I am saying but I have already written such a long
email and I don't want to be boring or anything so, um, yeah.
Thanks so much, you bloke's really are the best, and the ladys on your
team as well!!!
Hannah Stanley
PS I know that you are probly too busy to do anything, I think like
most older people are.

Home

2005-08-24T13:28:00.000-04:00

For any of you that do not already know from the exclamations of our parents, Raffi and I have returned safely to America, thus ending our time with the Tour for Equality in Asia. Happily, this does not mean the end of our mission. There are still many loose ends to tie up such as the various interviews/articles about the trip that are still in the works right now. But in all, the tour has concluded.

I will not rant and rave about all the things we have learned over there, whether they be side-splittingly humorous or deadly serious. I'll leave that up to Raffi. But I simply cannot omit the thanks and appreciation I have for all of the people that read the blog, gave us supportive emails, donated money, donated time, donated prayers, gave us a place to sleep, entertained us with stories, said they were proud of us, met with us to inform, gave us food, told a friend about our website, helped spread the awareness, talked to us at a hotel, sat with us in a bar, shook our hands, and so on. Everything that all of you did, accumlated into a gigantic ball of encouragement that empowered me to an extent I never thought I'd reach. Knowing there were people behind me made it possible to work through everything in front of me. I just hope that I haven't let any of you down. This was a big, intimidating and ambitious trip. It could've been a failure in so many ways, but thankfully I truly believe Raffi and I accomplished our goal of raising awareness and changing perceptions across the world, and again, there's absolutely no way any of that would have been possible without you. And of course the most respect and thanks I have goes to Raphael. To keep it short, everyone reading this should try their hardest to get as close to him as possible, because once you've gained his friendship you'll never find someone so complete. I learned a hell of lot from him, both good and bad things, about every facet of life through the last three months, all of which I can use to build my own character better. He was the perfect person to helm this project and my hat goes off to him for getting me involved, getting Tour for Equality to the level it's grown to, and showing me the world and myself in a way that I've never viewed it before.

Now, I have to go. Raffi just called and he's picking me up and we're going to a favorite restaurant in Cincinnati called Skyline. Many of you don't know what Skyline is, but if you're from Cincinnati you'll understand how difficult it's been to go without it for an entire summer. Mmmmmmm. After eating the greasy chili it'll be the last day we'll see each other for many months, which is difficult to fathom. From siamese twin to distant friend.

Anyways, thank you all again for EVERYTHING. It's been.......an experience.

-jacob

Publicity!

2005-08-20T07:22:00.000-04:00

Hey everyone.

It looks like the Associated Press article that Miranda Leitsinger wrote about us 2 months ago is finally catching up to us.
In the last five days the article has turned up on CNN World, Yahoo Asia, The Taipei Times, a Chinese website (in Chinese), IMDiversity, and many others. Google or Altavista us and you can check it out.

We also are going to be in our local paper from back home in Ohio and we have been invited to be featured in a national publication for Asian Americans.

All of this publicity is fun, but it has also led to an outpouring of support from around the world. In particular, we have received two gratifying but also troubling letters, one from a young woman (who also organizes bicycle tours) in Moscow who is involved in the struggle to prevent rapes by police in Moscow, and another from an incredibly articulate 16 year old girl from an aboriginal village in Australia that is upset and worried about the frequency and tolerance for rape and gang rape in her community.

We have about two days left in our tour now and it is exciting to see that support is catching on and that there are people that take heart and support from our efforts. I would like to publish those two letters on this site, but first I will ask for permission.

Thoughts from the end of the road

2005-08-20T01:36:00.000-04:00

Hey everyone,

It has been a while since I've blogged and I guess I should thank Jacob for getting on the web and sending out the messages to everyone. As he mentioned yesterday, we are in Chiang Mai right now and it is a beautiful city but utterly filled with bar girls (euphemism for prostitutes) and sex tourists.

It is weird to see the end result of the trafficking chain. I guess it's weird because the women that run out of bars on the street to grab a hold of our arms and beg us to come into the bars or to take them home don't seem miserable. They are usually laughing and are young and healthy, and it is only the knowledge that we have gained of the situation of many of them that allows us to ignore the temptation to believe that these women are happy doing what they are doing and it is just a good way for them to make some extra cash.
I've heard that view from some tourists here, and it seems so easy to believe when you see these girls, but it is basically a simple justification for buying sex. To be honest, it is a temptation that I understand. The Thai women are some of the most beautiful that I have ever seen and they act like the horniest of 18 year old boys. The night we got here, two of them accosted Jacob and were grabbing at his crotch, and one took the ID card of our buddy Ken and put it in her bra and told him he'd have to take it out if he wanted it. Basically, they are most guys' dream come true. And I guess that more than anything, the whole sex trade now makes a little more sense in terms of demand. What I mean is that I understand prostitution and how it has a long long history (it's even in the Bible) but I think that a place like Chiang Mai, or the Patpong part of Bangkok have got to be understood as totally unique in history. This is not prostitution, it is an actual meat market, and there is an insatiable demand for young women (and they can be really young) and it necessitates a whole massive, profitable, international trade in getting women, because who wants to be treated like meat.

An interesting story that Phil Marshall, the New Zealander from Phnom Penh who works at ARCPPT told us: once he was travelling through rural Laos and he and some friends stopped at a restaurant that also had prostitutes. The mama-san (or manager of the prostitutes) asked Phil why Westerners are so cheap. He asked what she meant. The mama-san explained that when foreigners come to get a woman, the price is about $20. But many Westerners try to bargain down. It is not that the women won't do it for less, the mama-san explained, but driving a bargain makes the women feel cheap.

It is an incredible story, I think, because it shows how complex this whole thing is. Being a prostitute at some level feels normal, but then it is being bargained for that is shameful. Phil, who would never want (or need) to buy sex and works to fight the trafficking of women, understood that if one does it, there is a right way to do it. I think that that is what I am coming to understand on this trip. It is not so much that prostitution is a disgrace or some terrible thing, but the way that it is being practiced in Asia (fed in large part by Western money) is utterly sickening. This is not prostitution, it is slavery, and people are being stolen from their homes and put in disgraceful work that often as not leads to AIDS.

Well, those are my feelings on the main topic.

It has been hard to blog for two other reasons. The first is that I have become pretty accustomed to everything Asian, and so it gets much more difficult to look at things and find them funny or crazy the way that I would as an American. For example, I find any restaurant meal that costs more than $3 per plate to be ridiculously overpriced yet I no longer think of the food (which is so delicious here in Thailand) as cheap. I am used to buying drinks on the street in plastic bags, where the liquid (juice or soda) is poured into a little shopping bag and I just walk around with a straw drinking out of the bag. So it has gotten harder to notice things that I think would be funny or interesting to write about. Oh, here's one:
We went to a muaythai (kickboxing) match last night. Muaythai is the national sport of Thailand and is watched all across SE Asia. So it seemed right to go check it out. We went to a quiet and pretty residential part of town and entered the arena/gym. It was like something out of Fight Club. There was a ring in the center and bleachers kind of far back, but there were only maybe 150 people around the ring watching the fighting. It was dark, dirty, dingy and filled with mosquitoes. It was, to quote Jacob, perfect.
We watched a bunch of fights, many of them with 16 year old boys. But this is all very normal here, and the boys seem to be friends and probably train together. The title fight at the end of the night was a Thai guy and some English dude named Murphy. Murphy steps out and his entire back is covered with Thai tattoos. He goes around the ring as all of the Thai fighters do, and prays at each corner. It was clear that he has adopted the Thai way of life and really takes kickboxing seriously. Unfortunately for him, he was an utter joke. He was sent crashing to the floor twice, and actually got knocked out--in the first round. Getting knocked out is pretty uncommon in kickboxing. Most of the fights are settled by decision. But poor old Murphy got laid out like a carpet. You can check out the pictures to see him on the ground and to see pictures of us with the champion.

The other reason that I haven't been writing is that I honestly thought that no one was reading this blog except for our families. It gets kind of tiring to write blogs when I talk to my family anyway, and so it has become a sort of unwelcome burden. Well, I now know that I was wrong. As many of you know, the Associated Press article (about a month after its release) finally got picked up by mainstream media. I know that it was in CNN, Chinese papers, Taiwanese papers, and at least two USA papers, maybe more. Our inbox has been filled with people from around the world sending us their support and also informing us of the work that they are doing. It has been incredibly gratifying to know that people are interested in this trip and that it means something to them.
Basically, I am tired. I am tired and am looking forward to returning home. I have worn one pair of pants over the last six months and only one pair of shorts (though I did buy some new ones). I have been living out of the same bicycle panniers and have washed myself for the last three months with those tiny little bars of hotel soap that vanish after five minutes in the shower. So I am road weary. Part of the weariness was the feeling that we were out here trying to do something positive, but that the only people that seemed to be following us were our parents. I now realize just how wrong we were, and I am deeply moved by the support that we have gotten from all of you that read this. You have given me the greatest gift, which is the sense that all of the work and effort and travel and hardship and laughter and injuries have had meaning. There is no greater gift and I have deep deep appreciation for your support. Thank you.

The circle is nearly complete

2005-08-19T01:22:00.000-04:00

Oh, we're getting down to the end of days, aren't we? Right now Raffi and I are in Chiang Mai, Thailand with plans to go down to Bangkok tomorrow night and get everything settled up for our flight back to good ol' Cincinnati. Despite all these exciting plans for the near future we still haven't lost the reason why we're out here. Before leaving Laos we had the pleasure of meeting with two other women's rights organizations who were more than happy to share with us the situation in their country and what progress is being made.

First we met with representatives from the group Agir por les Femmes en Situation Precaire (AFESIP). In English it's "Acting for Women in Distressing Situations". Essentially this group has already established itself in many other Asian countries such as Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam with the goal to combat trafficking in women and children for sex slavery. Our ambassador to AFESIP, a very nice Frenchman named Didier, explained to Raffi and I how they are just now on the cusp of starting a similar anti-trafficking campaign in Laos. Right now it's still in the pre-production and development stages, but utilizing their knowledge of what works and what doesn't from their neighboring organizations in surrounding countries there is a large sense of optimism that their work in Laos will be quick in prevention and protection for high-risk women in the country. Despite all the good intentions that AFESIP has for Laos Didier strongly stressed how important it is to get support from high-ranking officials in the government and also to make these important contacts realize that this problem does exist. That's one thing Raffi and I have heard over and over. So many people in these countries either refuse to believe that trafficking of their wives and daughters is happening or deny any knowledge of it since it's easier to look away from the problem and hope it disappears than to face it and discover how horrible it really is. But I have faith in AFESIP. Once they start rolling, which should be in the very near future, Laos will have some of the resources that their bordering countries have. Resources that are necessary for proper rehabilitation of rescued women and women with a lack of options besides the sex trade. Soon AFESIP will be responsible for the foundation of shelters, vocational training classes, reading and writing skills. But there's still a lot of progress to be made. For instance, there's not a chance for psychological rehab because there are no psychologists in the country! Long is the way but bright is the future.

The second organization we met with is actually the Lao section of a group we met with previously in Cambodia, ARCPPT (Asia Regional Cooperation to Prevent People Trafficking). Our main man, Phil Marshall, put Raffi and I in touch with his friend in Vientiane, Gerard Smith, and the three of us sat down at this beautiful riverside restaurant to discuss what ARCPPT is doing in Laos. Basically, what Gerard is a part of is an initiative to train local police officers how to detect and properly investigate cases of people trafficking. Many of these officers don't know what warning signs are or how to read them, so Gerard is attempting to teach a specialized team of men on the red lights and alarms that suggest that trafficking is occurring. If a case is discovered a response unit will hopefully know how to properly handle it so not only will the women be safe in the end, but also the source of the problem will be rooted out as well. Right now it's slow going, Gerard says. The training sessions are only two weeks long. How is someone supposed to hone their detective skills on a brand new area of crime to them in just two weeks? Exactly the problem. But one that needs to be dealt with. Supposedly a Chinese mafia is starting to spread down through the north of Lao and without adequate protection from the police force these women are open targets for some sort of forced deceit.

Despite the gloom overhanging the trafficking problems in Laos, both Didier and Gerard were all smiles and laughter, which I realized was due to the optimism they felt. Sure things are going well right this second, but they see that if the work they are starting flourishes the way that they are directing it, the situations here will only get better. How could it get too much worse anyways? There's no protection and no where to turn. Now with the incorporation of AFESIP and ARCPPT into their justice system the women here will no doubt be placed in safer environments to grow up in.

And that was the end of Laos PDR. Sad? Yes. But excited to be back in Thailand. If you were to get a map and trace a line of where we've been traveling you'll see that we're very very close to closing a large ring. Once we get to Bangkok that will be a return to the place that this all started. I'm sure one of those blogs will be the sappy one where we say what we've learned, who we'd like to thank and all that jazz so I'll keep that finale for a few days from now. But....

I would like to thank everyone who's read our article on CNN World's website. You wouldn't believe the responses we've gotten in the past couple days from this. This one wonderful girl in Moscow emailed Raffi and I wanting to organize a trip. A PhD from Australia emailed us with a bunch of links to other sites that focus on exactly the same thing we're doing. Another girl from an Aboriginal village wrote us some stories about how the girls and women are unfairly treated in her town and would like for us to come over to Australia and give a talk to the boys there. It's so surreal to see how interconnected the world is, how quickly information can spread, and how much people desire to help others when it's for a good cause. So thank you everyone. From our trip's first friends (the English girls) to anyone who stumbled across the piece while surfing. It's good to know that you're out there and we're not doing any of this in vain.

-jacob

Capital City: Vientiane

2005-08-13T23:32:00.000-04:00

Hello all, from the capital city of Laos....again. Yes, we've done a large loop in the northern portion of the country and have returned to our original point of arrival, the beautiful city of Vientiane. Just like the travel books say, for being the capital city there's hardly any sort of hustle or bustle on the streets to the likes of which you might expect. The traffic is just as easy-going as the street vendors, tuk tuk drivers, and hotel receptionists. It's hard to become animated about something when you look at the relaxed way the Lao people deal with situations.

It's almost time for us to go back into Thailand, but before leaving Lao we still thankfully have at least one more organization we're going to meet with tomorrow. It should prove to be very insightful since Raffi and I haven't yet really found out about the problems that Lao feels are the most pressing within its borders. It'll be nice to get an inside perspective on the problems and solutions that are in effect right now.

Sorry, but there aren't any funny stories to share with you right now. Since the last time we blogged we were hampered in much of our activity by a deluge of rainstorms. The one day that Raffi and I had planned on going on our big adventure by taking kayaks down the Mekong River and cave trekking in local mountains it rained the ENTIRE day. I went to sleep the night before listening to the heavy rain which was quite relaxing. I awoke to the same sound. I awoke again to the same sound. Had breakfast watching the rain fill the potholes in the street. Same for lunch.....and dinner. Then in the evening it stopped. 20 minutes later it started again and I ended up falling asleep to the same sound. It was weird. We're used to going for weeks and weeks and weeks without even a cloud in the sky and here it rained for 36 hours. Pretty impressive actually. But obviously there was no river kayaking or rock climbing to be had. Instead, we got our fix of movies taken care of. Most of the restaurants here, the ones that don't play Friends non-stop, have at least two TVs and an extensive collection of DVDs to watch while you eat. They understand that it rains a lot and realize that a good way to spend time when you have to be trapped indoors is to watch movies. So that's exactly what we did while it poured and poured. The following days threatened to be the same so we thought it be best to get out of town and come down to Vientiane, getting re-oriented, and enjoy the sway of life here.

The delicacy in Lao expanded wider in variety the past couple weeks as well. At one bus stop not too long ago I was stumbling around with Raffi after just waking up and this kid had a plastic bag filled with big black beetles in it that he was munching on. I hadn't had breakfast yet- unknown if Raffi had eaten already or not- but we reach into that bag without even thinking twice to get at those beetles and get a little food. The beetles were dead and must have been fed some sort of specially seasoned vegetation because when we bit into them they were filled with a spicy sort of dry grass mix. It was actually pretty good. Yesterday, Raffi almost bought a grilled guinea pig at a sidestand on the road. After re-evaluating the potential badness of that idea he changed his mind and considered getting a fried rat instead. Nothing ended up being bought but it's nice to know we have options.

After we've met all the groups here that we can, it'll be off to Chiang Mai, Thailand. It's quite the paradox city. We've heard tons of great things about the place and know through pictures that there are amazing buildings/temples to see. But it's also the premier hotbed of prostitution and trafficking. It's entering the belly of the beast and that's a bit stunning. Hopefully we can keep our cool around the wats when we see a shameless case of child exploitation parading around.

That's about all for now. Sorry it's not more thrilling, but that's the way it goes sometimes. Next blog will have some good information in it I'm sure. Take care, everyone and we'll see you soon.

-jacob

A nice, cold PDR

2005-08-09T02:33:00.000-04:00

We've been on a whirlwind tour of our last new country, Laos PDR. I can safely say that Raffi and I are becoming quite the professionals at bus travel the way the past couple weeks have been going. Bus from Hanoi, Vietnam to Vientiane, Laos. Bus from Vientiane to Luang Prabang. Bus from Luang Prabang to Luang Namtha. Bus from Luang Namtha to Vang Vieng. It's been awkward how we've been covering all of this ground. The level of speed has felt so eerie after being assimilated to the slower pace of cycling. It's been a lot of motion but not a lot of activity. The cities have each been quite different yet all have characteristics that make it a part of Lao and no other country we've been to.

The drive into Laos from Vietnam was a new experience from the flat southern region of this corner of Asia. In Laos we were actually above clouds. We were looking down at clouds. It felt comforting, out of place and oddly extraordinary at the same time. I was being driven through the place we were told as kids that angels lived. This was where Heaven was supposed to be. As I sat there, continuing to ascend higher I couldn't help but feel a little supreme. I had found a back door that lead through the sky ad I could look down, detached. Below me were all the problems of the world. Pollution, STDs, politics, Friendster, litigation, mudslides, boy bands, junk food, temptation, stress. And I know I'm not a celestial being. Pardon me for sounding arrogant. There I was, up high but I knew I wasn't going to sprout my own pair of large, white feather wings. I'm still just jacob. 24 years old. Holes in my dirty t-shirt, not a lot of money in my bank account, allergic to real Christmas trees. The best material I've ever owned was a used Honda Accord from the 80s. I am in no way near being angelic in many ways and was less cherub and more just impersonating Neo in the second Matrix movie by doing "his Superman thang". Those problems I was looking down on are still a part of me and I a part of them. I'll have to return to there soon and try to help or at least not make them worse. It was just nice for five minutes to pretend I had reached transcendence by breaking the first barrier in the atmosphere. A short fantasy that I had gotten away.

It was good that I didn't keep floating upwards or else I would've missed Raffi's birthday. We only spent a day in Vientiane, the capital city, with the plans of returning there in about a week or less to meet up with more organizations. Until then we thought it'd be best to go north and see just how far we could get into the country. First stop, Luang Prabang.

Luang Prabang was a lazy city. Very cozy with its small, tightly bound houses/cottages, but it's not claustrophobic. It's like one of those small medieval towns in a Disney movie. All the windows have wooden shutter with small balconies. Clothes are put out on lines to be sun dried. Many of the houses' staircases are outside. Lots of tiny patios. Short foliage separates the yards. The streets are narrow and made out of old rock rather than hot, black tar. Temples are everywhere and at 4pm the thumping of Buddhist drums reverberates across the entire city. Very serene. Eating meals by the might Mekong River.

We soon left Luang Prabang to the city of Luang Namtha. Another very nice and laid back city but we knew we could go farther. In the morning after our arrival it was the quarter century mark for Raphael Parker's existence on Earth so it had to be celebrated appropriately. We stuck to our plan and rented motorbikes to ride ourselves up to Muang Singh, a city right on the border of China. Neither one of us had ever operated a motorbike before but didn't want to look like idiots on the street to the people who've been using them since birth. We fumble around for a second and find out that they're actually very easy to use. And with a turn of the throttle we were on our way north.

The city itself was less spectacular than the ride leading up and back. We were accelerating through straight-up dense jungle. Jungle that almost swallowed me whole. It was so high and lush that I was almost disoriented. All around were just solid walls of trees. You couldn't even see past the first or second row to know what the interior of the forest looked like. Similar to being amongst skyscrapers in a busy city, the forest rose up so steeply on mountains that I would actually have to crane my head up just to see the sky. Amost no one else was on the road which eased by fragile nerves. Livestock and chickens were the biggest obstacles. At one point I came face to face with a water buffalo that took up the whole road and forced me to hit my brakes rather hard. And then we were eye to eye. Knowing it could have easily picked me up by it's huge horns and kill me in that instant certainly crossed my mind. Luckily, it cared not for my existence and let me pass. When the forest did decide to part and let us take a glimpse of the outside world I can see why the jungle was so greedy to share. Wow!! More real than anything I've ever seen. So real it looked fake. I almost believed these views to be manufactured but looked a little too much like the jungle you see in your mind. It looked how zoos fail to replicate. I was inside the award-winning new Omnimax film Laos: Jewel of the Mekong. I was standing on what digital cable supposedly offers. The sky seemed to melt its clouds onto the mountains. The mountains themselves were like enormous ripples on a jade-colored velour blanket. The makers of Crayola crayons and house paint companies would have a field day (no pun intended) if they could get swatches of these forests. There was just every shade of green, but vivid butterflies, shining dragonflies and exotic birds dotting the wet trees. The sky had beautiful gray hues in it that brought rain, but neither of us minded.

Muang Singh itself was just another border town. Nothing to great but still interesting. The northern mountain range we had as our backdrop was China. We saw China!! We spent a bit more time walking through some local ethnic villages, ending up watching a kickboxing match in a thatched hut with about two dozen village dwellers, then rode back to Luang Namtha for a wonderful birthday dinner of authentic Chinese ("they got sauces"). Plates of stir-fried eel, crispy duck, fried tofu, and string beans. Mmmm. And a piece of green tea birthday cake to boot.

Then it was back for more bus riding. Although I'm getting more used to it with every passing ride, there's nothing terribly glamorous about it. It's funny how quickly one's threshold for comfort can dip when deprived of options. During one ride there was a normal sized headrest on the seat next to me. A rectangle about 3"x8". It looked like this:

--A----------
l ...............l C
---------B---

Point A is where one guy had his head resting to sleep.
Point B is where I leaned forward in my seat to lean my head on that same rest.
Point C is where the guy sitting in the aisle leaned the side of his head to sleep.

Three people using one headrest to sleep. That's how desperate it's gotten. About the guy on Point C. There are a lot of these guys. You see, after the bus fills all it's seats that would normally mean that you stop selling tickets. Not in Asia. Where we see an aisle they see the opportunity for more seats. In a best case scenario there's a small seat attached to an aisle chair that folds down so that the aisle literally transforms in a new row of riders. In the common scenario there is no fold down seat and the bus company brings in a stack of plastic stools and line the aisles with these for the unlucky late-comers. On the ride yesterday from Luang Namtha to Vang Vieng Raffi and I were at one of the impromptu bathroom stops on the side of the road. There was a guy who'd be guarding the bags on the roof of the bus for the first couple hours since leaving the station. I comment to Raffi, half jokingly, that it was probably pretty comfortable up there. Raffi agrees and asks me if we should try to get up there. I have no reason to think that anything could be worse than the cramped legroom and stale air inside the bus so I shrug and say we should give it a try. We use our razor-sharp miming skills and "ask" the driver if we could hop on top of the bus. He nods so we get up there and it turns out to be the most comfortable part of the recent riding we've done. Our legs were fully extended, laying down, feeling all of the breeze. Raffi was reclined on the bump of cargo covered by a tarp and I found a deflated intertube that was scrunched up to lay on. To you it might sound horrible, but we were loving it. Again, the standards for comfort dip pretty quick on budget buses through a third world country. You know you're traveling budget when you use a paperback book for a pillow. You know you're getting used to budget traveling when using a book doesn't actually feel that bad. A book. I was using a freaking book. So yes, laying on a roof was exponentially better.

Now we're going to have a few day to not move and see what Vang Vieng has to offer. So far, it's a bit dodgy. They play Friends everywhere. You might think I"m joking but this is what the city is known for, it's TV bars that show Friends 24 hours a day. Right now, looking to my left, not even needing to take my fingers off of the keyboard, I can see three bars each playing a differerent episode. And then another episode will follow that. And another. And another. Friends 24 hours a day at dozens of bars. That theme song overlapping on itself in a constant loop. It's absurd, but I'm hoping to find a nice un-Friendly place to pop in a good martial arts movie. It's been a long time since we've had the pleasure of electronic entertainment. Regardless, there's a beautiful river right down the street that we can boat and go tubing on. It'll be nice. Then on to Vientiane, meet some more groups and start the haul back to Thailand so we can get to the Bangkok airport in two weeks and fly home. Weird. But we're not done with Laos yet. Not at all. This has the potential to be the best country yet. We'll let you know. Thanks for listening to the rant. I'm a bit out of sorts from the lack of sleep of all these bus rides so please forgive me. Until next time, see you all soon.

-jacob

Thoughts on Leaving Viet Nam and on Trafficking

2005-08-05T06:16:00.000-04:00

We are now in Laos, after a full month of cycling (and briefly) riding the train through Viet Nam. It has been an incredibly long month, and subjective feeling based in part on the fact that every day we headed into new terrain, experiences, and ended up in a new town or city with new people and sights along the way. Every moment was a discovery, and except for our own personal habits, nothing was routine.
But having already been on the road through Thailand and Laos, we were able to process the experience of Viet Nam not only by recording it and discussing it with each other, but also by comparing it to what we had already seen (or endured) in the other countries.
For one thing, Vietnam is incredibly wealthy by any Cambodian standard (except for those in their government for whom no amount of money can satisfy...). There is electricity in even the smallest villages (that we saw) and phone lines, as opposed to people running the occasional TV, or their lightbulbs off of car or truck batteries. The food was also quite good, and the tap water safe to drink--which means that the ice was safe and allowed us to consume cold drinks on hot days.
Besides the mundane considerations of the cyclist (food, cold drinks, road conditions, weather, etc.) we have, for the entire trip, been especially sensitive to what we perceive to be the status or standing of women. We were incredibly heartened by what we saw.
Women comprise a huge section of the labor force, working on road and construction crews, working the fields alongside the men, and running many of the restaurants and shops throughout the country. This is in part, a consequence of the "American War" in the same way that Rosie the Riveter helped transform the labor force in America during WWII. (A brief aside: I want to mention very quickly that despite my bringing the issue up with nearly every Viet person that could speak passable English, I never heard any word at all of condemnation or even dislike of America. By all accounts, they say that the war is over, in the past, and there is no reason whatsoever to dwell on it. And they have every reason to dwell. The country still is pocked with bomb craters and victims, and yet their generosity of spirit is utterly amazing and, to me, bewildering).

When we were granted an opportunity to meet with the Quebec department of the global non-profit Oxfam to discuss issues of gender and trafficking in Viet Nam, I for one, was pretty happy to know that we wouldn't be going through the gloomy scenarios that haunt countries like Thailand and Cambodia. Have I mentioned yet how ignorant I am? It turns out that the picture is not quite so Rosie!

Project coordinator Kim Anh and gender specialist Carole Marsolais spent an afternoon with us explaining what is going on in Viet Nam and what Oxfam-Quebec is doing to stop it. Domestic violence is a major issue here, as is human trafficking. Before I go into their response and the nature of trafficking in VN, I think that it is high time that a definition of the problem be introduced:

The United Nations definition of human trafficking is “The recruitment, transportation, transfer, harbouring or receipt of persons, by means of the threat or use of force or other forms of coercion, of abduction, of fraud, of deception, of the abuse of power or of a position of vulnerability or of the giving or receiving of payments or benefits to achieve the consent of a person having control over another person, for the purpose of exploitation"

If you'll permit me to briefly quote from the UN's Economic and Social Comission for Asia's website, I think that some info is relevant. Bear with me:

The Asia Pacific region is seen as the most vulnerable region for trafficking because of its huge population pyramid, growing urbanization, and extensive poverty. Trafficking is a violation of human rights. Victims of trafficking suffer from physical and mental abuse and social stigmatization. They become isolated, losing ties with their former lives and families. At the societal level, trafficking undermines development efforts and raises social and health costs. The ongoing abuses of human rights and the growing social and economic inequality within and between countries has led to an environment in which many women have few choices and resources, and are thus vulnerable to being lured, mislead or forced into being trafficked. Women who are most vulnerable to being trafficked are those aged 10-35 and who are impoverished, uneducated or from indigenous, ethnic minority, rural or refugee groups. Such women often lack access to education and meaningful employment opportunities. Harmful cultural and customary practices also perpetuate discriminatory and violent practices that further diminish women's opportunities and lead to further marginalization and commodification. Promoting gender equality through the elimination of gender discrimination and gender-based violence will enhance the dignity and human rights of women and girls and prevent their being trafficked.

The above information is, in short, what Carole and Anh discussed with Jacob and me. Oxfam's approach has been to work with the police and train them in dealing with these new problems by helping them to understand what trafficking is (this is an issue which is critical in America, where many Mexican women that are arrested in whorehouses are treated as illegal aliens, when in fact they are victims of trafficking!). Also Oxfam seeks to provide vocational training to women that are at risk of being trafficked. Giving women a means of making a living is a surefire way to help them avoid the dangers of leaving home to unknown areas out of desperation for money. Former trafficking victims are often stigmatized for having become victims of trafficking, and so because of their own embarassment, or to spare their family the shame of having them around, they can not return to their own villages. Oxfam helps these women learn new trades.

I realize that I am covering quite a bit of ground here, and so I want to backtrack a few times, or at the very least provide some anecdotes. If there is anything that you are interested in learning about, post a comment to the blog and I will address it.

One issue is "How do these women get trafficked?" It is a good question but it varies depending on the situation. One woman that has been helped by Oxfam was tricked by her best friend into going to China to accept a job. She was forced to marry an abusive man, and had to spend 10 years with him before she could escape. Other times the cause is more indirect. Vietnamese people are hired as agents to recruit people for jobs in China. These recruiters have no idea that the people they recruit are going to be forced to do certain types of work. The recruiters themselves are unwitting pawns.

Another question is "How does one cross a border against one's own will? Aren't there guards?" It turns out that much of the border crossing is done through the jungle where there are no guards. Also there is often collusion between corrupt border officials and traffickers.

Also: "What are the victims forced to do?" This depends on what there is a need for. Many of those trafficked from Vietnam into Cambodia are forced to work as prostitutes because of the Cambodian preference for light-skinned women. A huge factor in trafficking in Viet Nam is that China's One-Child law led to widespread abortions of female fetuses (families want a son that will take care of them when they get old, not a daughter that they will have to give away). Accordingly, there are upwards of 135 Chinese men for every 100 Chinese women, and the trafficking of Vietnamese women (often forced to marry old, handicapped, abusive, or retarded Chinese men) has been a response to this shortage.

So, there's a picture of trafficking in Viet Nam, now what is being done to stop it!

The people at Oxfam generously introduced us to one of the programs that they help fund, the Vietnam Handicraft Village Research and Promotion Center (www.hrpc.com.vn). We were shown around a project of this organiztion by its charming and very bright Development Manager, Nguyen Bao Thoa. (Once again, frustratingly, let me fill in some background: There is a Women's League of Viet Nam that has a total of 10 million members. VN has a total population of 80 million. So there is a strong presence of this union in the country and it has facilities in all parts of the country in correspondence with the political organization of Vietnam, from National level to Provincial, Municipal and Community.) Ms. Nguyen took us to the community center of the Women's League on the outskirts of Hanoi where we met with the chairwoman for the Community League and the Municipal League. At this center, the League has donated space to the HRPC, which has filled the rooms with looms and runs classes teaching former victims of trafficking and those who are at risk of being trafficked how to make beautiful bamboo scrolls and mats. There are pictures of us at this facility on our Shutterfly site (http://tourforequality.shutterfly.com).

We spent a delightful afternoon visiting the facility and speaking with the chairwomen. Jacob and I were shocked to find that there was a problem with equality in a country with such a powerful women's league. The chairwomen informed us that though women work as hard as the men, there is very little sense of gender equality. For example, a husband and wife may go out to the field together in the morning at the same time and return at the same time, but then it is the woman's job to clean, cook, and take care of the children.
"What happens if the woman is sick?" Jacob asked, shocked.
"She calls her sister and her sister has to do it," they answered, laughing at our shock.

Fundamentally, the issues in Viet Nam, as in the United States, come down to social attitudes. Women in both countries have proven themselves every bit as capable as men of doing serious and demanding work. But in both countries, women continue to suffer from a social attitude that while there is parity in work out of the house, insider the house the man needn't exert any effort. This, the chairwoman of the municipality, Ms. Be, expressed as the greatest challenge facing Viet Nam today.

Obvioulsy there are other challenges as well. Viet Nam is just beginning to come to terms with domestic violence. In the past it had always been a hush-hush issue, but now, through the efforts of international and local non-profits, that attitude is changing. Broken bones and blood are now not considered the only evidence of abuse.

Mrs. Nguyen recently prepared a commercial for television that discusses the relationship between STD's (which the government is trying to eradicate) with sexual abuse. The government has prevented this commercial from airing, because it does not want to admit, or discuss, the existence of sexual abuse.

This blog is long and if you have read it to this point I thank you. I feel a bit swarmed under myself at the conversations and experiences of that day and all of the days that have preceeded it. What I can offer as a final note is that organizations like the HRPC and Oxfam-Quebec are having a real and powerful effect on the tremendous social problems that are emerging as a result of the global economy and the breakdown of traditional borders. The products of globalization: cheaper products of better quality in our kitchens, offices, and streets is at the same time rending the fabric of traditional and sustainable societies halfway across the globe. As quickly as pimps and traffickers step in to exploit this breach, dedicated and intelligent people like the HRPC and Oxfam-Quebec are also stepping in and are making our new world safer and more humane. They deserve our thanks, our admiration and our support.

Quack, quack, quack!

2005-07-31T21:20:00.000-04:00

Yes, the cycling portion of our trip has ended. It is sad, I know, but has not inhibited our main cause. In Vietnamese capital city of Hanoi, just days after the crash we had the pleasure of meeting a couple members of Oxfam Quebec, a group dedicated to helping women who are at high-risk for trafficking or returning from escape after being trafficked in another country, mainly China. Raffi will write more about the work we did with them, but I want to personally thank both Kim Anh and Carol for their help and for taking us out to the support center they help fund. At this center these women learn vocational skills and trades such as the production of bamboo screens to be sold at markets, thus earning money in a respectable fashion free of danger. As I said, Raffi will comment more on the specifics of this organization, but despite the lack of bicycles the Tour for Equality remains.

What I will write about is our great little "vacation" in the mountain region of Sapa. Originally the plan was to bike to this highland city from Hanoi but once we got on our bus and registered the continous steep slopes it had to maneuver in order to reach the small metropolis it was evident that biking would have been the wrong choice. Both Raffi and I are very glad we got there the way that we did, with an engine and petrol as our help.

The time spent in Sapa was a cultural experience the likes of which I have yet to see anywhere else. The main city itself drew a slight grimace in my mind when our bus dropped us off. Although the center was surrounded by steep mountains drenched in fog- quite the tranquil state of uninterrupted wilderness- the drop-off spot was nothing but a slew of bars and cheap hotels. Foreigners bumped around trying to find their bearings while child vendors attempted to cash in on their confusion by relentlessly offering cheap woven jewelry. Once our tour guide- a man we would grow to love for reasons I will unfold as this blog continues- herded our group all together and trekked away from the hysteria it got much better.

The trail we followed for the day could hardly be called that. In some parts it was nothing but a narrow strip of crumbling dirt with a 50 ft. cliff on the side. If someone would fall, they'd be gone. Plain and simple. Other spots were sharp drops of loose rocks or muddy stream-hopping. Most of the time we walked beside the local river and always had a good view of ride fields etched into the slopes of the lush mountains.

Our first stop was in the village of the H'Mong tribe, an extremely friendly and inviting hilltribe who were very accustomed to the passage of foreigners on a daily basis. In this collection of huts the basics of life were exhibited. Little to no electricity. Children playing with the same bamboo that every dwelling was constructed of. The clothing and dyes were produced by the inhabitants. Since it was summer vacation the younger caste spent their days swimming at calm spots of the river or tending to the docile yet unbelievably powerful water buffalo. For recreation we went swimming at the local watering hole. Seemed plain enough until I really looked around. The banks were lined with large sparkling boulders that separated the water front the rice fields. The ring of mountains surrounding our valley, although just a few hundred feet away, were half covered by clouds due to their towering heights. The backdrop of pure Nature. The pauses of the local laughter and shouting were filled in by the sound of rushing water rapids.

After swimming we walked to our next village on an even more treacherous hiking path only for the sure-footed. More swimming followed where Raffi and I attempted front flips off of a large boulder with little success. Our tour guide was the one having the most fun as he would leap in the air and contort his body into awkward, unplanned positions before splashing into the water. He did more boulder flips than anyone and always started a dive or emerged from one letting out a high-pitched, "WHEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!"

Our home for the night was in a cottage on the tribe's homestead. The floors are uneven cold stone with the shelter itself being just wooden planks hammered together. On the patio outside was a nice garden and more mountains in the distance. The sights and smells were of rural Vietnamese life.

After the sun went down and the mountain landscape was hidden in darkness there was only the other travelers to provide entertainment. All of us- 11 total- sat around a small table to have a relaxing dinner that turned into a semi-voluntary mess. Our guide told us that he would show us some customs of the Vietnamese people for dinner and nighttime fun. After agreeing to that he proceeded to drench us with Vietnamese rice wine. Now, all things are good in moderation, and that how I tend to handle situations like this, but that night the theme our fun-loving guide desired to follow was all about speed. Before dinner and after befriending three Jewish Belgians we all had three shots of the moonshine drink. That set us well on the way. For the following two hours we finished three bottles of this homemade liquor. What were the effects of village-made rice wine from the Northwestern peaks? The exacts same as anywhere else. There were many sing-alongs to Vietnamese, Jewish and French ballads coupled with a volume level that increased with each new verse. Predictably there was also broken glass, many handshakes, hugs and general camaraderie. At intervals our exuberant guide/bartender would bring out another Vietnam custom, a massive bamboo bong through which we would all inhale a massive amount of local tobacco smoke. Entire heads became encased in opaque white clouds upon exhalation. Our guide was just as rambunctious as we were and seemed to encourage our participation in dangerous consumption practices. He told us it was all Vietnamese tradition so who am I to not follow the rules. I drank the wine and smoked from the pipe. The phrase that was repeated through the night by our guide was, "Why not?", a question that, at the time, was bulletproof. The last piece of tradition we learned was an old Vietnamese song that has the chorus "Quack, quack, quack!/Quack, quack, quack!" After learning when in the song we should shout this we were quick to bellow out this ridiculous phrase. In two days our guide must've had us sing the song 40 times.

The next morning was spent trekking on even less reliable terrain. Most of the "trail" was uphill, some parts angled a full 70 degrees. Footholds were simply indentations in the dirt or stones jutting from the ground. Eventually, after an hour or two of climbing we hit a couple of the tour's highlights. One was a walk through a bamboo forest. It looks just as you would imagine. Like thousands of green rods thrust into the earth. An overlapping field of emerald bars. The second highlight was a nice waterfall that bordered one part of a village. It flowed with ice cold moutain water which offered a refreshing break.

What's odd and what we're slowly starting to realize is that we would not have experienced this if we were still on bicycle. I'm starting to think of the accident as a blessing in disguise. A disguise we're quickly stripping away with each passing day.

Anyways, those with queasy stomachs might not want to continue reading......

The last night in Sapa we met up with our tour guide again at 7:30 for a special, off-the-books trip. He, Raffi, and I became friends so he agreed to take the two of us to a place we have been trying to find but were unsuccessful until then. More people from our tour group joined us because our guide was that cool and we all headed out to a restaurant tucked away into an alley devoid of any tourists. The reason we went was because it was the only restaurant in the city that serves dog. Yes, we had quite the interesting meal as several plates of dogmeat were presented in front of us each prepared a different way. One plate was a pile of thin strips, another held chunks covered with spices. A third plate were dog nuggets encased in an edible, rubbery wrapping. Perhaps intestinal lining? The fourth was a bowl of fatty chunks sitting in a shallow pool of brown gravy.

As an appetizer I was handed a bowl of crimson jello topped with peanuts. The tour guide said it was also "part of dog". We ask what part could be made into a thick jelly and soon found out that it was a bowl of specially prepared and chilled dog blood. Under the initial layer of red gelatin were some brittle, small chunks without any taste. Again I asked what these crunchy pieces are and again our guide says, "It all part of dog." I still have no clue what I was crunching on but the only parts of a dog that hard are the bones, teeth, and toenails. At some point yesterday I realized it was futile to try to find one of those choices I might be comfortable with. Nevertheless, I ate the whole bowl. Raffi abstained from finishing his which was probably the smartest idea. It tasted disgusting.

Out of the seven people that came to the restaurant only three of us ate. Our guide, Raffi, and myself. Because it was just the three of us we had an overwhelming amount of dog to eat. I stuffed myself full of each dish while our guide brought out more cheap liquor for a rapid binge in between bites. Close to the end of the meal a small man approaches our table and starts talking in Vietnamese to Raffi and I specifically. Our guide tells us he is the owner of the restaurant and he is very happy to see us so eager to sample his cuisine, a practice not many tourists seem to embrace.

Immediately after the meal and after many shouts of "Quack, quack, quack" (which brought surprise and laughter to all the patrons) the owner sends over one of his own large bamboo smoking pipes so we could have the customary post-dinner smoke with his device. Since Raffi and I oblige we are given a large applause and many smiles as we do as they do and puffed some of the local tobacco with ease.

From a stomach full of dog and cheap alcohol ("the Remy Martin of Vietnam," our guide says) we continue onwards to a dancing club that began by watching local tribe members do their dances. Then the disco ball drops and the cheesy techno beats thumped on with a strobe light breaking the room up into small clips of movement. I hear a loud shriek of glee behind me. It was our guide. Of course he's the first one to hit the dance floor. Upon tearing past the couches and chairs and hitting the center of the floor he becomes completely uninhibited or concerned about others watching him as he started flailing around hooting to the beat. It's quite rare to meet someone like him. Very childlike and oblivious, but still a responsible sort of carefree attitude. He took excellent care of us.

The night ended at a pub, playing pool and saying goodbyes. It was sad to leave our guide but we it all well documented in our pictures which I invite you all to look at. It has been recently updated to include the Sapa pictures as well as our short visit to beautiful Halong Bay. Anyways, we taught our guide how to "hit the rock" and he taught us that Vietnamese drinking is a fast and furious game. And how could we ever forget "Quack, quack, quack!"

We took a sleeper car on an overnight train back to Hanoi and leave for Laos later this evening. It'll be a 22-hour drive which I am really not looking forward to at all but the excitement of a new country is stronger. I feel we got a good look at Vietnam and it's time to move forward, sans bikes.

The Tour evolves

2005-07-30T21:55:00.000-04:00

Okay. This blog has been a long time in coming, and before I write it I want to apologize to everyone for having gotten so far behind. There have been some pretty crappy days that we went through, and just knowing that there are people back home that support us and are interested in what we are doing made a huge difference on our attitudes. Your support is invaluable and wonderful.

Okay then. What happened?

I will begin with Hoi Ann, which I guess is the last time I blogged (although I did just publish an old blog under the title "Hoi An", it is about what a typical day is like of riding).

We left Hoi An and headed up the coast. After about an hour of riding, I saw a tremendous 8 story pagoda sticking up from the side of a little mountain. I asked Jacob if we could stop, and we did. It turned out to be a major temple complex called the Marble Mountain. Somewhat oddly, there are five mountains, very little ones, made out of marble that simply stick up out of otherwise flat plains. We climbed the mountain and saw that not only was there the tall pagoda and several small ones, but also the mountain was filled with vast Indiana-Jones like caves that were full of great big carvings of Buddhas. It was too dim to take photos, but it was a fantastic and beautiful discovery on a beautiful day.

We ended up pushing on to the sprawling city of Danang, and then headed towards what is supposedly one of the biggest cycling challenges in Viet Nam--the Hai Van Pass. There is a mountain range that runs directly to the sea and is so tall that it divides the climate of Viet nam between the north and south. We were excited to exit the heat (it is colder to the north) but a little nervous about the Pass. There is a tunnel that runs through the mountain, and everyone that we spoke with told us different stories about whether cycles were allowed in or not. In fact, we spoke to over 20 people, and never once got the same answer two times in a row. So when we got to the base of the pass we just decided to ride.

It was fairly demanding, but in the end, your two Tour for Equality riders have become absolute cycling beasts. We took a few breaks to take pictures, but all together, it wasn't too hard at all. And again, going down was just awesome. The back half of the pass had long straightaways and the hairpin turns were steeply banked, allowing us to take them at pretty high speeds. There was also no traffic at all on the way up or down, due to the use of the tunnel.

At the top of the pass were bunkers built by the Americans and (this is from the back of a postcard I bought) their 'puppets'. Once we reached the base of the mountain, we were in the small beach town of Lang Co. We stayed at a small resort ($6 per night) that was pretty popular with Viet tourists, but we didn't see a single Westerner.

A day like this is pretty much the joy of the touring cyclist. To leave in the early morning and discover, purely by chance, something like the Marble Mountains, then to ride along the sea for hours before meeting and achieving a challenge like the Pass. And then to end the day with an exhilerating downhill, and a wonderful relaxing time spent at the beach without other tourists or hawkers. The muscles are pleasantly strained, and one is filled with a languid euphoria and sense of accomplishment. It was a great day to be our last day of riding...

The next day we set out for Hue, a city that is famous for its food and architecture. It was 70 km away, and we arose, as usual, at 6 am. We stopped after about 15 km for a baguette (in this area the baguette was served with peanut butter and sugar) and coffee in a small coffeeshop. As I wrote in the Hoi An blog, the coffee shop is a place that blares crappy Viet pop music and this one was special because the tabletops had pictures of the Backstreet Boys.

We made excellent time, and by 11 am were only about 12 km outside of Hue. As I was riding, an overly friendly moto (motorbike) rider came up and crowded me over to the right side of the road. As I was trying to fend him off, I didn't see that there was a parked van in the road, and despite my efforts to avoid it, I hid it from behind.

It wasn't a bad accident. I hit the van and I must've flown off the bike, but it was sort of a controlled roll, and I got back up eager to just get back on the bike before a bunch of staring people came over. I walked back to the bike and saw that it was in a pile of glass. I looked at the van and saw that its rear windshield was shattered (the moto driver was nowhere in sight). "Damn" I thought, now I would have to pay for this damage before we could get on to Hue. Then I looked down at my arm and saw that it was pouring blood. Damn damn damn. Already a crowd of people.

(I will do my very best to recollect everything that happened after this point, but my memory may be a bit hazy).

Essentially at this point, Jacob flew to the rescue. He sort of handled everything from this point for the next 2-3 days. First he got out a rag and water and started trying to get me to drink and clean up all the blood. I was laughing and not feeling any pain at all and asked for him to take a picture of the blood. He refused (rightly, although none of the pics up on the Shutterfly site really capture the intial gore).

All of a sudden I needed to sit. I was woozy and lightheaded. Jacob got me a seat in a little shop. Unfortunately, I was then surrounded by about 25 people who wanted to look at me from close up. Jacob did his best to get them to move, but he was totally inequipped to handle their crush (and by inequipped I mean he didn't have a riot hose handy). I was sort of laughing about the simple shittiness of the whole experience, but then Jacob dragged my bike into the shop and said that I had some frame damage.

I took one look at the frame of my bicycle and I said, "It's over. Our trip is over"

Product Review of the Trek 520:
The Trek 520 is a piece of shit. It is an incredibly heavy bike. This heaviness, the consumer is told, is evidence of its unbelievable durability. This is not true. Or perhaps it is, but only if it sustains a certain type of damage. In this case I hit a van at an incredibly low speed and my top tube (forgive the technical explanation) snapped in half and the downtube split as well. It would be comparable to a hummer rolling at 5 mph into a wall and crumpling like a paper accordion. Sure, it can ride over big rocks, but it has crucial flaws.
I rode this clunker (which I named 'Ol Nasty) for over 5,000 miles in 5 months and I had so many problems with it that I resolved before this failure never to buy another Trek. Yes, Lance Armstrong rides a Trek. But other than his bike, which is sort of a handmade rocket ship with a Trek sticker, they now make the crappiest bikes ever. They are mass producers and the quality is horrendous.
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Okay, so the bike was wrecked. Now the police showed up and the day began to get a whole lot shittier. First, they took pictures and incredibly meticulous and ridiculous measurements, like the diameter of by bicycle tires. Then we loaded up the bicycles onto a flatbed truck and they took me to the local clinic.
The clinic was decent, but also what one would expect of a rural hospital. It had no water. And it too was filled with spectators that came from the crash to watch me get stitched up. And get stitches I did, my first ever!
So I got cleaned up and stitched (no anaesthetic) and 3 prescriptions for medicine and the cost of the whole procedure, plus the medicine was abour $4.

Then, when I was patched up, we went to the police station. This turned out to be sort of a nightmare. We were reeling from the end of the trip and the police were not friendly at all. They insisted that I was lying to them when I told them that I had fallen off my bike after hitting the van because I wasn't cut elsewhere. It was assinine. There was no way to stay on a bike during a crash and it made no difference anyway. No fun at all.

The driver/owner of the van was there too. He turned out to be the most kind and considerate person ever. I was so apologetic; I just felt terrible. He was incredibly sympathetic. While we waited for a fax estimate of the cost of the damages to the van (which turned out to be $300), Jacob and I started stripping my bike of parts.

It was hot out and we were dehydrated and starving. And more than that, we were crushed and grim. All of these police were standing around watching us take apart my bike and laughing and joking and mimicking some of the things that we had said. But you should have seen us. Jacob and me, me covered in blood, grimly (and expertly) pulling the bikes apart. They slowly stopped making fun of us because they could see how crushed we were, and how determined too. Slowly they started to offer us things: soap, food, and cigarettes.

I ended up needing to get a ride to Hue to withdraw money on an ATM to pay the bill for the damage. The driver of the van took me. Then, when I returned, and paid I wrote out a contract with him (and presided over by the police) that specified the terms and cost and all that other stuff that goes into contracts. It was all in Vietnamese, but I have a pidgin English copy too. Essentially, the contract is a $300 souvenir.

We loaded the panniers into the van and the driver drove me back to Hue to a hotel. Jacob followed on his bicycle.

The next day was recuperation, and then we left to go to Hanoi on a train to see if we could buy a bicycle up there. I will end the blog here and let Jacob take it up to date tomorrow. But I do want to say that without a doubt, Jacob is the best friend that any person could ask for. Despite the moto, the accident was my fault, and I ended the trip. And he didn't say a word. He just made sure that I was alright, that I was safe, and he carried all of the burden that I couldn't carry myself. There is no truer friend that I have ever known or could wish for. I wish there was more that I could say to express the depth of my appreciation for the kind of man he is and the kind of friend he is, but words fail to contain the breadth of his loyalty.

Asia Pics 2

2005-07-28T01:13:00.000-04:00

There will be more pictures soon. Raffi has quite the photographic eye and has sifted through some great shots of the past few weeks. We realize there has been a slight problem with accessing the Asia Pics 2 link and I promise that 1) it will be fixed shortly so please be patient and 2) it will be well worth the wait. Sorry for the delays, but things in Tour for Equality have.....changed. Raffi is working on a blog right now that will explain everything that can be divulged, but you should all know that we are healthy and safe. Despite the new directions we have been shifted into our well-being is always of utmost importance and I assure you that none of that has been compromised in the wider spectrum. You will be informed shortly. Thank you for understanding as we have many issues that we are currently in the middle of addressing between ourselves. Until then.

-jacob

Hoi An

2005-07-20T07:28:00.000-04:00

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know it's been quite a while since we updated our happenings and I sincerely apologize for the delay. There is good reason for the break in writing. Simply, it is because we had a long, marathon stretch of riding that took up most of our time for the past week. Last entry, from Qui Nhon, we were on day 3 of continuous riding. A pretty good stretch without an off day. Now we have taken some much needed time off in the city of Hoi An after what turned out to be 7 straight days of cycling.

The routine was monotonous to say the least. Wake at 5 or 6 in the morning. Put in an average of 90 kilometers. Find a city to sleep in for the night. Pass out. Repeat. Unfortunately it was not just the physical routine that became cyclic. The geography as well quickly thinned out from the exciting mountain passes and scenic coastal views to more long, flat stretches of incinerating asphalt. I thought the worst of the heat had ended when we left the inferno of Cambodia, but apparently that was being rather presumptuous. The last few days of riding were ungodly hot, with minimal cloud cover to wind to help break the heat. Mixed with that was the fact that none of the recent towns we stopped in were particularly enthralling and that pretty much led to the conclusion that back-to-back-to-back days of riding were necessary. It's been rice fields as far as the eye can see and now that we've moved inland, those expanses of deep blue ocean are too far away to gaze upon. That will soon change based on what is planned in the near future. Most of the riding during the last few days were on a piece of highway that, 35 years ago, was littered with army men wielding machine guns and camo gear. We were literally riding through some of the most heavily active war zones of the Vietnam Disaster. To think that just a short time ago we and the Vietnamese were such intense adversaries and now we're able to bike through the region without any troubles at all demonstrates not just the progress the country has made in making peace with America, but also how busy the people here are taking care of and cultivated the prosperity of their own country.

We've now done some recuperating in Hoi An, an interesting city for many reasons. Mainly because of the unique business niche it has cornered. There are essentially three types of businesses here. Hotels, restaurants, and tailor shops. Tailor shops? Really? Yes, really. For some reason there are hundreds of tailor shops that people come from all over the world to patronize. And it's obvious why. The tailors here have enticed the globe with their ability to custom-fit any article of clothing a buyer might want and have it ready (at an insanely inexpensive price) in one day or so. Anyone who wants it can chose from a dizzying array of ensembles and set their preferences. Silk, lace, double-stich, A-cut, dresses, skirts, suits, hats, sandals, slippers, robes, belts, shirts, anything and everything can be made just for you. I've run into many people who just laugh and open their eyes really wide when they're asked if they had a lot of clothes made here. Thankfully I have not had a need for nice clothing anytime recently and if my luck holds then I will not need to look particularly nice for anything in the foreseeable future. Therefore, I was able to curtail any desires for a new, suave attire and reassured myself that the collection of rock band t-shirts I have at home would be adequate for the next few years.

Today Raffi and I caught a bus to the site of My Son, a collection of towers and temples built by the Cham Dynasty between the 3rd and 14th centuries. Sadly, many of the complexes- about 80% or so- were destroyed by American bombs during the Vietnam war so a vast amount of these great shrines to Shiva were nothing more than a pile of bricks and rubble. I felt slightly embarrassed as we walked through the wreckage trying to imagine how great it would all look if they were still standing. Nevertheless, a great site, and a great way to spend the morning. Last night was just as special. There was a riverside festival in celebration of the Full Moon that we wandered down to. All along the streets were colorful lanterns lighting the dark, stone alleys and roadways with different demonstrations spaced in between. There were Kabuki shows, children performing martial arts on the corner, speeches given on floating boats, and general erratic behavior which classifies a celebration. The song and dance was like nothing I've ever seen before.

Oh, another reason why there hasn't been a blog in a little while: Hoi An seems to have a small problem keeping it's electricity on. Perhaps they're late on their bills, but at least two times a day the entire city will lose power for an undetermined amount of time. Speaking of which, let me save this blog real quick in case the outage strikes again......hold on........

....ok, there we go. Sorry, not only have I woken up sweating two mornings in a row because power in our hotel killed our fan system, but earlier today I had the pleasure of composing a large email to a good friend and having the screen go blank approximately 5 seconds before hitting the "Send" button. (Sorry, Anna. I'll try again later.) We've all had that happen, and boy, is it ever fun!!! Can you hear the sarcasm as it drips on the floor beside your feet?

Anyways, we're well past the halfway point of our trip and I can confidently say that we've really been seeing what makes Vietnam it's own entity. Aside from these larger cities of Saigon, Nha Trang, and Hoi An there are the in-between cities that lie right upon the ocean and offer their own deeper sense of the country's culture. Cities and towns like Bong Son, Quang Ngai, Sa Huynh, Tam Ky, and so on. We're lucky enough to take all of these places in at a slow pace, pedal by pedal, and absorb so much more than if we were rushing through on a bus. I know I complain a lot about the heat and physical duress, but it is welcome trade to be able to see the intricacies that are never commented on.

Tomorrow, we test out our new improved legs and go farther north. Mountains are promised and possibly cooler temperatures (knock on wood). Let's hope that's the case, but in any event, it'll surely be quite the experience no matter what. I can't thank you all enough for keeping along with this blog. Knowing you care really makes the riding much easier and I hope you get enjoyment out of this. Another one will come sooner, I swear. Until then...

-jacob

Hoi Ann

2005-07-19T06:28:00.000-04:00

Okay,

We are in the town of Hoi Ann, Viet Nam, on the third day of a much needed break. For about a week there we were riding every day and riding hard.

We will be in Hanoi shortly and have some appointments to meet some organizations up there, but all the same, I feel like ablog is in order.

Now it is sure nice when we have funny stories to relate: for instance, two days ago, some knucklehead on a motorbike started hassling us while we were riding and ended up trying to grab Jacob's bike (he tried it with me but I kicked his motorbike). Well, Jacob tried to get the guy to leave him alone but eventually had to pull a knife on the guy and let him know that if he grabbed at Jacob again, there would be some danger involved. The guy took off.

Anyhow, I thought that even though the days are mundane in that they can be wrapped up by saying "we rode hard for 6 days", that really doesn't express what our days are like. And so I thought that some of you may be interested in finding out what a day of riding is for us. I will try to lay it out in painstaking detail, and then also share the things that help distinguish one moment from the next. Because even though there is similarity in the days, it is the little things that we have come to notice that make the day memorable.

So here goes, a day in the life of a cyclist duo in Vietnam:

Morning:
Generally we wake up at 6 am, sometimes earlier. This is decided the night before based on the distance that we have to cover and the heat that we expect. The first 30 minutes of our morning are almost scripted, or I should say automatic. We rarely talk. Sleepily, we pack our bags and change. Someone goes to the bathroom first, and while they're in there both of us change into our cycling shorts (because this involves nudity). We get all of our bags in order. Jacob is invariably done first (he is less sloppy the night before) and carries his bag down to the hotel counter.
No matter how early you rise, there is always someone at the counter, because in every hotel we've stayed in on our trip, the hotel managers sleep on cots in the lobby. He gets our passports, and we load our bicycles. This is all done in near silence. The only conversation, I suppose, often has to do with the quality of our morning excreta, which is really sort of a health topic, and is not really inappropriate.
Distinguishing moments:
Just two days ago the manager of a hotel tried to charge us 10,000 Dong (the money here) for having gotten towels in our room. I was about to get pissed off, but Jacob sort of pre-empted me by making a sound that was the non-lingual form of "bullshit" that the guy laughed and acted as if it had been a joke.

Morning riding:
The ideal is to put about 30 km of riding on the odometer before we stop for breakfast. This is ideal because it is still cool out and our bodies have processed our dinners and are ready to provide energy. Eating immediately after waking draws blood to the stomach and makes the body slow down. So we ride, and we usually ride pretty fast. The angle of the sun's rays are also so oblique that they are often blocked out by trees and we can get some shade. This is about the only time we ever ride in shade, given that usually we ride on a road through rice paddies.
At about 30 km we begin to look for a place to get coffee. This is pretty easy here in Vietnam because coffeeshops are the loudest places in any town. For whatever reason, all coffee shops blare Vietnamese pop music at incredibly high volumes.
We stop for coffee. Coffee is absolutely delicious here. Basically, some hot water is put over some grounds in a filter that sits on top of the cup. Slowly, extremely thick coffee drips out. One ends up with coffee that has a consistency almost of syrup and is incredibly strong, but is also a fairly small amount, maybe a 1/4 cup. Coffee is served with evaporated sweetened milk.
For breakfast we eat either some noodle soup, or more commonly, a baguette.

Distinctions:

Hmm. I guess one big distinction is that the food changes wherever one is in Vietnam. In Nha Trang, baguettes were very thick, and were filled with Laughing Cow cheese and vegetables. Elsewhere it could be pork, or salted fish. Also the coffee shops are different. What we prefer are small ones where we are not stared at, and where the music isn't so loud.

The riding:
It is hard to describe just the riding. I suppose that I could say that it is boring, b/c there is so very little to do except to move forward. All the same, there are many things to notice and observe: will it be a hot day? Is there any wind? What direction is it? How is the cloud/tree cover? What are the people along the road doing? What are they carrying? What does the road/surroundings look like? Is the rice ready to be harvested? How do my legs feel today?
Ultimately, there are a million things that one can look around and notice or another million things that one can think about totally unrelated to what is going on. The mind just sort of wanders on its way, touching a topic, flies off to a new one, returns, and flies off again. The scenery in Vietnam is pretty monotonous, but the mind is active. It flits froms idea to idea, each one forgotten as quickly as it is visited and what is, or could be, a period of intense boredom is simply a period of time that the mind wanders.

By 50 km it is getting hot out. We have to stop often. There are countless roadside places to stop. Plastic tables and chairs the size of pre-school chairs and drinks. Drinks are never refrigerated. They are served with a chunk of ice that is hacked off of large blocks (every morning we see the ice-deliveryman as he rides a truck, motorbike, or bicycle around town and country with 10' blocks of ice and saws them into segments at each stand). We are usually so thirsty that it is an excercise in patience to be able to wait for the drink to cool down. What we have perfected is the art of slowly drinking in such a way that the liquid has to flow around the chunk of ice and is cooled right before entering the mouth.
What distinguishes these countless places are, I suppose, the types of drinks they have (they often have presses and can make fresh sugar can juice, is there a breeze, are we going to get surrounded by villagers and made to feel like animals in a zoo, is there shade? If we are outside of town limits the drinks are half as expensive.

Eating:
We have to eat fairly constantly to keep up our energy. There are many ways to do this, b/c Viet Nam is, for one thing, a culinary paradise. Well, that may be overstating it, but I should note, I guess, that we never pass any supermarkets or anything like a grocery store. There are markets for fresh ingredients, but most people here buy there food nearly as cheaply in stalls along roads. So you have a whole country that eats out, and that leads to food nearly everywhere, at great prices, and with an incredible variety of local dishes (there are over 2,000 dishes that are considered unique to Viet Nam)
Basically, along any road will be stalls. They can be divided into 3 types: those that sell noodle soup (pho), those that serve meat (or vegetables) with rice, and actual restaurants where they serve both. There really is very little choice about how the food is prepared as it is already cooked. You just pick the meat and what you want it with. Jacob prefers 'com heo' or pork with rice. I prefer muc (squid) or pho ga (chicken noodle soup). Sometimes the food is delicious. Sometimes it is just decent. Usually it doesn't matter. After all, this isn't Cambodia.

Moving on up/To the East side

2005-07-13T05:41:00.000-04:00

Hello from Qui Nohn, Vietnam....an actual city!!! Raffi and I have been moving at a fast and furious pace. Apparently July has been given the privilege of being the month we get some serious mileage under our belts. So far it's been three days back to back of intense riding, the likes of which we have yet to see before.

Basically, we're rolling along a strip of asphalt that divides Vietnam from the South China Sea. Get a map that has Vietnam in it.....got it? See that black line that forms the border of the land and the sea? That's essentially the line that we're tiptoeing on a daily basis. Our route is etched in cliffsides, the road winding like a ribbon trying to stop the country from spilling into the water. There are much more hills to break up the monotony of what we had previously come to know. Pancake flat Cambodia didn't offer much variation, but now we're constantly uncertain what each new turn will bring. Another smooth fall where we have nothing but a sea breeze trying to slow us? An intimidating climb that tests the ability to immediately surge our bodies into pure energy in spite of the fatigue that lingers upon our shoulders with impending gravity? One thing has been static, no matter the challenge- arduous climb, headwind, cloudless sky- or delight, the scenic beauty of each day has been without comparison. Every appendage of land that even peeks out of the mainland offers a view of unending sapphire water embedded with an armada of fishing boats full of hard-working citizens catching the life that will support theirs. Looking down at the shore, the water either crashes into huge fallen boulders covered with algae or eases into softly grinded sand. All of this we see perched atop Highway 1, the silhouette in a view that even the most panoramic lens could only master in portions. It's humbling to say the least.

Two nights ago Raffi and I had the pleasure of staying in a town barely described by our Lonely Planet "bibles"....Dai Lanh. At first we were thinking, "Why didn't our books tell us about this place?" Then we realized it was for the best as we found this beach to be almost completely deserted. As a result we sit back, have a couple beers and sedate ourselves under the hypnosis of softly crashing waves and the dim light of a crescent moon. To my right was the highway we rode in on. To my left was the same highway we would depart from, hugging a mountain veiled in evening clouds. I saw both my past and my future while reclining in the harmony of the present.

The hotel was nothing to rave about. I would've liked it if 1) our toilet had flushed, ever, 2) we had hot water, but at this point I've surrendered the hope of finding that exists anymore, 3) had been given soap or shampoo or even a toothbrush as a sign of respect. Our dinner that night was something to commemorate. It consisted of some of the freshest marine creatures I've ever had the pleasure of tasting. Seafood that was probably alive early that same day. I feel bad. Those crabs and squid probably woke up about the same time we did and thought, "Man, I'm gonna go get some food, swim around a bit and relax." Then, 3 hours later, they're being digested by my stomach acid. And I thought I've had bad days.

One day and 107 kilometers later we're in the city of Song Cau. This was a hard ride. One that truly tested my capabilities mentally, physically, and spiritually. The ride was a success, but I am not the indestructible juggernaut I've hoped to become by now. The steep hills were literally crushing my will power and besides aerobic respiration and a healthy physiology I depleted my reserves of perseverance and determination making it into the small village. But again, rewarded with a large meal of fresh seafood.

After the trials of yesterday, today was easy. Only 30 kilometers and we find ourselves resting in Qui Nohn, the proper city I mentioned at the start. By 12pm Raffi and I, although already the warm recipients of more grueling hills with spectacular views mixed in a stew of heat, were relaxing at a nice hotel with the rest of the afternoon, evening and night to relax and recharge. Why recharge? Because tomorrow is going to be another long day. Something I'd like to not be reminded about for the time being since I'm enjoying this blog thoroughly (the post office I'm writing at is air-conditioned). Hope no one is terribly offended, but as a pat on the back for our respected efforts- as I am constantly envying the ease that Raffi takes to tackling such engulfing obstacles- we've been indulging ourselves with Snickers, Oreos, and Coca-Cola to ward off hypoglycemia.

Thank you everyone who has been showing us support in our ride. The comments have been appreciated past the point of what I can translate by words. Raffi is currently trying to upload more pictures as I write although I'm not sure if it will be successful. Regardless, although we wanted to say something before we wre not able to but I can tell you now that in Phnom Penh we were interviewed by a journalist from the Associated Press and our article has been published!!! I don't know which papers have picked it up, but fortunate for you I have the skinny on how to read it. Just go to http://asia.news.yahoo.com/050709/ap/d8b7lguo0.html and that should get you right to the amazing article. Thanks SO MUCH to the reporter who was gracious enough to spend as much time with us as she did, given our eccentricities as a duo. The article is more than what we were hoping for by leaps and bounds.

I'm not sure when we'll have Internet again, but rest assured we will let you know how things are going as soon as we can and as soon as we have the energy to. Fortunately I still type with my hands. If it were up to my toes I feel we'd be out of touch for quite some time. I with that, you will excuse me as I need a lot more rest before tomorrow morning and whatever beauty hides within this future.

-jacob

Clearing the air

2005-07-10T03:03:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to let you all know that Jacob was being hard on himself. We had a fight, no, not even that.

I got really mad at him, and told him why, and he agreed that he was out of line and then we were closer than before and a better, stronger, and safer team because we can talk with each other like that.

So while we continue to race down mountains at breakneck speeds, we are definitely looking out for each other's safety

Today is our last day in Nha Trang, which is supposedly THE place to hang out in Viet Nam. It makes sense. It is gorgeous here, the waves gentle but continuous, the water crystal clear with a green hue, and the food delicious and cheap. But unlike other tourists, we will not be getting wasted, getting on a bus, and waking up 6 hours later in the next party town. We have to wake early and ride those six hours in six days. Not that I'm complaining. I am well fed for the first time in a good long while, and...well... I can't think of anything else to say.

I believe that an Associated Press article is going to run about us any day now (there was a slight delay). Don't know what local papers will pick it up, but make sure you read your local one, because they may have our story.

That's all.

The beautiful descent

2005-07-09T07:54:00.000-04:00

I hate Vietnam. It's so scary because all the Vietnamese people still have such hard feelings about the war. Americans are spit at on the street and treated lower and more hostile than any other nationality. Raffi and I never leave our hotel rooms because we're afraid of being attacked. I carry my knife always. The food is horrible, as predicted. The habitat is in disrepair. No one wants to ever be around us or listen to anything we have to say about our bicycle ride.

Oh yeah, that's all a complete and utter lie.

Contrary to what some people may believe, Vietnam is an absolutely wonderful country and I've never felt so safe nor have I seen an environment that's so beautiful. For starters, upon our arrival in Saigon we quickly found out, from both foreigners and Vietnamese people that no one cares about the war anymore. It's almost laughable to the Vietnamese to think that we Americans are so cautious about that subject. They've fought longer and more meaningful wars for centuries so the American skirmish doesn't even register to them. As a result, just as with Thailand and Cambodia, all that Raffi and I are receiving on the road are people yelling hello, smiling and waving. When we stop in the towns it gets even better.

Let's get Saigon out of the way. It's a big city. That's all. If you've seen a big city before then you've seen Saigon. So Raffi and I didn't stay there for too long at all before heading out to the city of Dalat. During Raffi's ride through the US a guy in Texas told him, "Don't pass up Dalat! You must go to Dalat!" It wasn't exactly part of our route, but it wasn't too far off of it so we decided to ride in and see what the big deal was about from our Texas contact. I now understand why this informant was so insistent about our previewing the city. It's amazing. After hundreds of miles of flat Thailand and Cambodia, Dalat was initially different because it is essentially a city built on mountaintops. This region of Vietnam is called the Central Highlands, for all those who need to know the exact terminology. Whatever the precise name, Dalat seemed like a city programmed in a mystical video game. I almost expected to run into Zelda and Link. The nearest city we could use to describe Dalat is San Francisco, but with more nature infused into it's ambience. Rushing creeks of fresh, not foamy, water run underneath ivy covered bridges that teeter on cliffsides. Digesting this first day was difficult. Saigon didn't register, but coming from the under-developed, poverty-stricken country of Cambodia, it was a shock to see it's neighbor doing so well in every way. The people dress fashionably. The streets are smooth. There were neon signs advertising expensive liquors, a man-made lake surrounded by cafes and bistros. Simple things that Raffi and I now call "luxuries" are returning to their normal state in our mind. Fast internet connections. Pipes that don't leak. A noticable lack of flies.

After taking in the main city portion of Dalat (which is very French in it's design if that helps) we lifted our jaws back up and biked to the Thac Hang Cop waterfall. Not an amazing piece of scenery, but combined with the overlooks we passed through while winding our way through the mountains it all accumulated into a great day visually and somatically. I've never seen earth so rich and practically begging to have seeds put into it so it could show you how fertile it is. It almosts boasts it's fecundity through it's bright maroon tint that the local farms have literally cultivated by cutting into the hills. Protruding from some of these tilled fields were some villages, one of which had a collection of Buddhist temples. What was supposed to be a nice photo-op turned into an inhalation of another faith. I actually got to step into their prayer sermon that reverberated with slow, deep, heavy, ominous yet empowering chanting. The incantations and subsequent kneeling flowed into a dance of the mind embracing the Buddha. Although it was probably just a normal afternoon mass- some little kid was passed out in the middle of the floor- it felt like the most important ceremony I've ever participated in. Don't worry, I'm not coming back with a shaved head and saffron robe, but it was certainly a priviledge to exercise the senses to deeply for even 10 minutes.

Enough of Dalat. Although we love the city it was time to move on so after a few days snaking around the multi-tiered province we headed out early for our next destination. The notable part is not our accomplishment of reaching our goal but that was actually the first time we had to ride through rain. Supposedly it's monsoon season but from the depths of my left rear bag I reached in and inaugurated my rain jacket and waterproof pants. This was not a bad thing at all. First off, it's so much different riding in a temperature that doesn't feel like the center of a bonfire. Secondly, because we were so high up in the mountains it was as if we weren't getting rained on but rather running into newly formed drops. The entire morning was a haze from cutting through the precipitous clounds. Then came the fall.

No no, no one is hurt. Don't worry. By fall, I mean, descent. Dalat rested on mountains and the place we were going is on the coast, near sea level. I'm not sure how far we had to descend in one day, but it was FUN! Oh Mom, you would've been so scared I'm almost ashamed of what I'm about to write. The highway that we had to use to get to the bottom of the mountain winded in some of the steepest angles and sharpest U-turns it looked like the backdrop to a BMW commercial. The bicycle felt fluid was did my mind as Raffi and I hit speeds of up to 50 km/hour. (ummmm, that's fast.) The view from the top of the mountain was a panaromic snapshot of unending Vietnamese soil that was so expansive I could see the start and end of entire mountains, like looking at a piece of earth that God pinched up and froze. By the time we got to the bottom of the mountain, a little shaken from the extreme speeds and angles that should never be combined in the way we did them, much to our amusement, the Vietnam we knew had been left behind. It was back to the hot land. The flat land. What was once nearly jungle settings became a distant memory as we looked back up at the elevation we used to be at just 2 hours prior. Pine trees to palm. Mud to dust. All in one day.

Later that day we got into Phan Rang after making a sidestop at a tourist attraction of ancient Cham towers. Besides that there really wasn't much special about this nearly coastal town except that it was one day away from our next stop, the REAL coastal city of Nha Rang, where I am currently writing from. It was a tough ride to get to such a nice spot. Raffi and I had a deep rift form between us due to a deep misunderstanding that I vow never to make again. It was all foolish and should never have been an issue, but because of his honesty at how enraged he was at me a potential atomic bomb of animosity was defused almost as quickly as it was conceived. It's interesting to realize undisputable flaws and I am now thankfully aware of some things I need to work on and some things I need to ease up on.

It's not a problem at all now and we're having a fine time in Nha Trang. Not to brag, but the South China Sea is beautiful, warm, clear, and calming. We're recovering from the tough ride before getting here and sitting around getting a lot of little things done that we've been putting off. Post office issues. Bike maintenance issues. Et cetera. One thing I don't like about Nha Trang. They make shitty keys. Last night, about at the point of passing out of exhaustion and extremely late at night our room key breaks off in the lock causing an obstacle that I guess I can laugh at now that it's been resolved. Never have I had a key break off before and I barely turned it too. So here we are in the dark, Raffi trying to jimmy open the lock with a credit card in pitch-blackness (the one lighter I thankfully had on me broke when I tried to flick it on.....you can't make up bad luck like this) while I'm trying to pry open a window. We get in and fall right to sleep. And that's where we are now.

I've left out a bunch, believe it or not, but that's basically what we've been up to. I ask for all of your apologies for taking so long to update this blog and also for the more straightforward style. There's just so much new happening on an hourly basis that it'd be impossible to relay it all. I hope you see how great of a problem this is. Tomorrow, one last day by the sea then really nothing but riding for days and days. Oh yeah, more pictures are up if you want to seee the smoking mountains of Dalat and the central highlands, a place where I'm positive ninjas used to be trained. Until next time.

-jacob

End of Cambodia pics.

2005-07-05T07:34:00.000-04:00

What's crackin' people? Not going to be a long blog today because of various computer problems that are currently doing a very good job at annoying me. But, as I sit with gritted teeth I can say there is some good news. The tempermental technology has co-operated enough to have me affirm that there are brand new pictures up on our Shutterfly site. Some are funny, some are of people you may have heard about (i.e. Ling), some are horrific, all are worth a look, in my humble and unbiased opinion. Mom, Dad, Josie, what can I say....thanks for the comments. They keep us running. More to come soon, this was just a quick notice. As much as I miss Cambodia (esp. Phnom Penh for all the reasons posted in prior blogs and then some unmentionables) Vietnam is....well, that'll be a blog for another day. Enjoy the pictures.

-jacob

Ghostwriting

2005-07-02T06:51:00.000-04:00

It is monsooning outside, and so perhaps I am in a bit of a funk--in fact, I guess I am. But at the same time I am feeling some clarity about our trip and our travels and vicarioius experience of other people's problems and miseries.

Travelling in a poor country like this one makes one begin to feel like a bit of a ghost. Or, for that matter, the invisible man. I can walk into anywhere, sit down and do as I please. If I feel like eating street food, I do. If I feel like stepping into the most expensive restaurat in sight (with cloth napkins, waiters, candlelight and appetizers) I will find that the menu puts the entrees at $3 and that is simply too cheap to bother me. So I come and go as I please, and there is no Cambodian who would stop me. Even with a grungy t-shirt (and my t-shirt has accumulated 4 months of grime) they know that I am far wealthier than they'll ever be.

I wonder if for a moment you can imagine what this would be like at home. If you began to feel totally ambivalent about grabbing a bite of cheap food (let's say at a diner since we don't really have street food at home) or wandering into a restaurant that's so expensive that it'd cost a month's salary to eat there. I simply float around like a ghost with a skeleton key. Imagine if you could walk into the most wealthy people's houses, and then into the poorest or most average houses and not really be noticed. The silliness of wealth, the presumption of superiority, the ignorance of injustice...all these thoughts blow across my mind, but I am the invisible man and I couldn't communicate to these people if I tried. The people see me, but we are too foreign to judge each other. It is unique for me, only, because I have the access of a king. Or rather, these people are like slaves. Imagine, they SELL their bodies. Not 25 feet from me I just watched a beautiful young Khmer girl stroke an old Western lecher's face. I would settle for stepping up and slugging the guy, but this girl needs the money and has made her choice. The darkness here is like out of a noir film. Good people caught in desperate straights and doing horrible things to protect themselves and the ones they love. And then the second class of perverts and pimps who use that selflessness to their own ends. And then the third class, the voyeurs like me, that will point it out but am too powerless to do anything about it (but I am going to study law and how to work on international justice issues).

JAcob wrote beautifully about Ling, who is a child that is both adorable, resourceful and spunky. But our affection for Ling, as great as it was, would be like the affection that a snowman has for a daffodil--tender, sincere, and necessarily short. There is a gulf there, a gulf that broke our hearts, and that Ling didn't understand (that's why she threw the tantrum when we left). But Ling will learn very soon and very seriously what to expect from the world and from do-gooders like us. A whole lot of well-wishes, a meal or two, and then a bunch of pictures and stories to share with OUR friends while she goes on struggling.
---------
Going to meet the garment workers was a total shock to me. In fact, after asking my fill of questions and beginning to hear their stories, I simply shut down. It got too real for me. I couldn't at the time understand why. My grandparents survived the concentration camps, I've heard these tales of misery for my whole life and while not jaded, I've become at least innured to them. But in retrospect, what was so suddenly overwhelming was the sense, as I sat in a room surrounded by people who sat, ate, and laughed like me--that everything had become real--that these people weren't a part of the moving slide show of our trip. That I couldn't ghost myself out of the room. They were there because we were there and they wanted us to tell you: to tell the world, about how hard and brutal their lives are. And they did it by holding each other and talking and even laughing, but it wasn't joyous laughter, it was bitter.
One of the largest factories in Cambodia just closed, leaving 9,000 garment workers with no compensation. The corrupt union gave the workers two options: take a deal where you get half of minimum wage or go to the courts (who are corrupt as well). Half of minimum wage is not enough to eat on and pay for the rooms that up to 7 people share at a time.

I'm telling you about all of this because I promised some very good people that I would.

That day, the day we were meeting, they had already put in full shifts at the factories. They are working there as I write this, and they are working there as you read this. The factories run 24/7, you are given pills if you are sick, not days off, and these people are stuck in that life.

As an aside, I want to share that the situation was far more complex than the simple evil slavery of corporate profiteers and uncaring consumers. If you don't buy clothes from the Gap (and Old Navy, Banana Republic, and H&M) these people lose their jobs. But by buying these clothes we support this system. And these people are not necessarily forced to work 14 hours a day. They want to work that long, they want the money, they want to help their families. (Of course, what they don't want is to be short-changed on their money--which they often are-- or robbed, or raped, or fired so that they can't complain of abuse). It is a complex situation.

But yeah, it is a strange feeling. We ride around and meet these incredibly brave and hardworking people who work more hours in a month than most workaholics, and after the meeting, Jacob, me, and a reporter from the Associated Press went out to a dinner that cost more than their monthly wage. And so while it is really fun to be out here in Asia, living like kings, I cannot help but begin to feel the incredible lonliness that the invisible man must feel. To be able to get into anywhere, enjoy any luxury, but not share it with anyone.

Because how could I share it. Giving away money (while I've been doing that) isn't responsible because we don't even have enough to cover our trip. And it doesn't address the real sources of misery, which is corruption and apathy from wealthier nations. And even when organizations step in, it is often no help.

The incredible Phil Marshall, who is the patron saint of this trip somehow, pointed out the following. You can have a girl who is so desperate for money that she comes to Cambodia to work as a prostitute. And she works for 2 years saving her money. And then, under pressure from the international community, the whorehouse is raided by the police. Well, if she is under the age of 18, she will be considered a victim of trafficking, (will probably have her money stolen by the police) and be sent home (where she fled from in the first place). If she is over 18, she will lose her money and go to jail for being a criminal.

If you go to Laos, you will find that there are no kids between the ages of 15 and 20 in the towns. They have gone to work in factories or, if they are pretty enough, to work as prostitutes. If they are caught, they will lose everything and be deported or jailed. That, right now, is the best that the UN has been able to do about the problem. 18 is a magic age in the US and Europe, but here it is meaningless.

I'm ranting again, and I want to stop, but I want to share one thing else in case Jacob was too squeamish to mention it. Ling is a beautiful child, and while she is not too successful selling books, I'm sure she's still making enough to get by. But only kids sell books. In about 5 years, barring any misfortune, Ling will have to make a choice. And that choice (or lack thereof) is factory work, or prostitution. (Jacob mentioned that she is in school now, but that means very little about getting a job in the future). That is what she is facing, and she knows it. So do all of her friends.

Like I mentioned before, those factories are running as I write this and as you read this. And at the same time Ling is dragging around a heavy basket of books (or if it is night) she is sleeping on some cardboard or in a hammock on the street.

What can I say. It's a mad, depressing and shitty world. At the same time, it is filled with a small group of amazing people that have actually come out here to help. If you want to help them, please visit their websites. Womyn's Agenda for Change (www.womynsagenda.org). This was also a project started by Oxfam (oxfam.org).

That's all for now. We'll be contacting you from Viet Nam soon.

The Story of Ling

2005-07-02T04:41:00.000-04:00

As I'm sure you all have come to realize by now, Raffi and I have found Phnom Penh to be the best city we've visited yet. But what we have not told you are all the reasons why. I think you'll agree with our overall conclusion to this city's magnificence after you read the following series of events we stumbled upon one night long, long ago. It starts, unsurprisingly, with a man named Phil Marshall.

As a part of our initiative to learn about the child prostitution and trafficking we were led to Phil Marshall who works for a wonderful organization called ARCPPT (Asia Regional Cooperation to Prevent People Trafficking). Before meeting him for dinner by the Tonle Sap River Raffi and I decide to walk around a bit, maybe grab a happy hour drink and kill the 30 minutes we have until our meeting. During our unproductive meander up and down the riverside strip we are quickly accosted by a band of street kids all wanting to sell us books. This is nothing new. You don't even look at the kids, say no and hope they don't follow you around like you're the Pied Piper for the rest of the night. I guess Raffi was feeling a bit rambunctious with the free time we had so he started goofing around with these little kids. I stand over to the side and watch him (without too much interest) making goofy faces and shaking their tiny hands. It's all going well and good with them enjoying the break Raffi is providing from their life of scrounging for any small amount of change they might be able to take home- if they have one- and share with their family. These kids are very dirty, their clothes are like rags, and they have to carry 10 pounds of books around their necks. Even though this is sad and horrible, at that moment I wasn't really interested in sympathy. I was hungry and wanted to eat. But out of the corner of my eyes and ears I would occassionally see or hear one little girl jesting with Raffi in a totally unique way. She was quick with the retorts, an excellent bargainer, and as witty as she is adorable. Wait a minute! Did I just say "adorable"?!? That's what I was thinking and it surprised the hell out of me. I can't remember the last time I actually thought a kid was "adorable". It was weird but something I quickly brushed aside since it was now dinner time.

Skip to the next day. Raffi and I are walking in, through, and around the Central Market in the city and guess who we run into....our little bookseller from the other night. We walk over to her, talk for a minute and then Raffi asks if she's had anything to eat yet. She says no so the three of us sit down and each enjoy a very large and well-prepared grilled squid. The chewy tentacles and lime juice seasoning was not the highlight of the meal. What made the meal good was the comraderie that burst from each of us. It was like we had known each other for years. We were pulling pranks, poking each other with chopsticks, had a speed eating contest, took pictures. In addition we helped her with the alphabet (which she is very good at except she had trouble writing the letters "s", "x", and "z") found out her age, family situation, and name. Her name is Ling. She even knew how to write that in English which blew me away. Through the entire lunch she was completely forthcoming about everything, not timid at all. It seemed as if she actually trusted us and knew that we just wanted to give her something good in her day. At one point I asked her if she had a lot of friends. She said no and named one person. I said, "That's it, only one friend? I do not believe!" and she shakes her head, points at me, says "one", points at Raffi, says "two", then names the original friend last. She recognized us as real friends even though all we did was spend 30 minutes giving her a good meal (who knows how often that happens) and somebody to talk to. It was all fun, but hot and I was ready to get on with the walking, content with saying goodbye to this funny little girl forever. So we try to settle up the bill and the vendor tells me an outrageous price for the three squids. Immediately I balk at the bill and start trying to bargain it down, but this woman is simply not budging. I give her a final price and am comfortable with walking away regardless on whether this woman accepts the money or doesn't. I give the vendor the money, she starts protesting that she needs more and out of nowhere Ling is right behind me saying, "I help. I help. I pay." I watch in amazement as she reaches into her moth-eaten, dingy pouch and pulls out a handful of crumpled bills. This the money she sweats over and fights for every day while living in some truly poor conditions and she's offering to help me pay for my bill. I quickly decided two things in that second:

1) I have no reason to let this happen and
2) This is the greatest person I've met in a long time and I will help her to achieve everything she has the potential to do.

I do have the money and it's not nearly as valuable to me as it is to her so I had to quickly pull this bullshit right out of her head. Even as she tried to run away after thrusting the wad of bills into the vendor's hand, I quickly snatched the money back, grabbed Ling by the arm, forced her money back into her palm and strictly forbade her from even attempting to spend her hard-earned wages on us. It was such an amazing gesture from her. That night I felt sad because with all the work we've been doing with the trafficking organizations I'm realizing that kids like Ling don't have a lot of options, especially as they get older (she's 10). What's worse, as I tossed around in bed a little bit more than normal, is that even though she's got the brain to skirt around all the pitfalls, I have no way to know if she's going to end up alright. So much uncertainty. But I eventually sleep.

Two days later: I'm mad. I just realized I lost my sunglasses. And I'm hot. Get me to a stupid restaur.....LING!!! As I walk out of the Internet shop everything falls into background static as I see Ling on the sidewalk. She runs up with her arms outstretched to give me and Raffi big hugs, the only thing bigger is her smile. Or mine. A weird and foreign feeling of genuine care for another is pushing out from the back recesses of my head. Raffi and I really didn't have too much to do for the next couple hours so we end up putting Ling and her brother on the back of our bikes and taking them, books and all, rollerskating. There's this dilapidated little abandoned carnival set-up nearby the river. It looks like it used to be great....in the '70s, but could now serve as a great setting to a bad B-movie like Killer Klowns from Outer Space (which actually isn't a half bad movie). The skates are stacked in mountains and all are in second, third, and fourth-hand condition. The laces are broken, the clasps don't snap, the lining is riddled with holes, the wheels squeak. But don't tell that to Ling or her friends or us because we end up having a great time. We took plenty of pictures that'll tell the story better. We ran around and I even taught Ling how to tango. An hour later they are dropped off back at their spot by the river and we depart.

That night I realize that I want to do something for Ling. No. I need to do something for Ling. There are too many traps in Cambodia that could snare her and destroy what could be a great and fulfilling life. Then Raffi tells me that I could either talk about it and feel like doing something, or I could actually do something. This was an enlightenment that didn't sound at all like something that's proposed and quickly dropped. You know, when you're like, "Yeah, I should really really do that. Yeah!" then your friend says, "Well, first you have to start here..." and you quickly stop listening because there's real work involved. Not this time. We quickly hatched a scheme to find a way to help her and save her by being her sponsor. By paying a small amount monthly or whenever, she might be able to attend school or learn a trade. Essentially, I not only realized her chances of being a victim could be reduced considerably but that it is my obligation to do this for her as someone with the monetary resources.

The very next day I meet with a girl who's become a friend to us in Phnom Penh and knows a bit about the organizations around the city. She tells me about this place called Friends (Mith Samlanh in Cambodian) that specializes in taking children in from off the street and supporting them in many different ways. Schooling, safety, just an alternative to sniffing glue or being pimped. That's all I need. Next thing you know I'm on my bike, make it to the office, have an impromptu meeting with a guy who doesn't know a lot but says to come back the next day.

The next day, I'm there, talking to the director. He tells me all I need to know about how Friends operates and that they would definitely be willing to take Ling in and work out a program where I can be her sponsor if she needs one. But I have to bring her in so they can ask questions. Shit! I don't know where she lives. If she has a home. Finding a street kid in a foreign city of pretty homogeneous-looking people is like a needle in a haystack. But I try anyway and hit the river first. I see some kids selling books and ask if they know Ling. They do and direct me back to the Central Market. Great. The Central Market is a virtual cyclone of people and motorbikes spiraling around the main hive of hectic activity. If I could find her in this disruptive, chaotic, erratic tangle of patrons then that's the sign that I was meant to help.

I find her almost immediately. Damn near run into her. I tell her about Friends and if she's heard of it before. She has, but is hesitant to go and talk with them. A man claiming to be her father comes up and I try to explain (using Ling as a translator) how I'd like to help her out. He looks at the pamphlet for about three seconds then starts violently shaking his head murmuring "no, no, no" then briskly walks away. Understandable. The parents probably don't want their kids to get off the street because that would mean they're not making any money. His decision I quickly dust off my shoulders and ask Ling if she would still like to go. I'd give her the entire night to think about it then ask if we can meet the next day and if she wants to we can ride over and just talk to them. "OK", she says, smiling. I ride back to the Friends office and ask the director if they need parental consent for a child to be admitted. they do not, only the voluntary decision of the child. Cool.

Noon, the following day. Raffi and I head back to the river and see Ling. She must be expecting us. She has on nice pink strappy shoes, an outfit of blue jean material, make-up and even lipstick! She looked ravishing. Raffi and I take her over to the Friends office and the stupid director isn't around. No one else speaks good enough English to see me and won't even agree to question Ling. This is a blessing in disguise. While we're all sitting in the sun and it comes up that Ling does go to school in the morning, from 7am-11am, the afternoons she spends selling books on the street. Not only does she go to school, but she admits that she likes it better there because they teach her better. Friends specializes in learning a trade like hair-styling and whatnot while Ling's current school teaches English and and things that are more geared towards using her mind, which is sharp as a butcher knife. I'd hate to see it squaundered. That's great. All I wanted was to do what was best for her and she prefers her current school. I just wanted to give her the option that I wasn't sure existed. I'm fully satisfied in the way it turned out.

We say our final goodbyes and Ling gets very upset. Very angry at the fact that we'll never see each other again. She refuses to give us hugs and slams her books on the ground as we ride away. We wave, her arms are stuck to her sides with fire in her eyes. With that intensity, I know she'll be alright. So I turn back, face the road and now all I can do is hope, but it doesn't seem that what I wish for her is so far out of reach anymore.

-jacob

Womyn's Agenda for Change

2005-06-28T07:24:00.000-04:00

Tour for Equality

Tour for Equality

After receiving a wealth of potential resources we could visit in Phnom Penh Raffi and I took yesterday afternoon and evening to visit this amazing organization called the WAC. Why the WAC? Because it's like winning the lottery, it's going to happen with somebody. I've been blown away by the amount of good people there are in this city doing good work. We've had so many conversations with people that devote their life to helping out at orphanages, rehabilitation centers, rescue shelters, and the list just keeps going on. It seemed that at the end of every day Raffi and I were asking ourselves how we could possibly visit all of the places we had been invited to. The problem is that we can't, but this is a welcome dilemma. It's so great to know that there are too many organizations dedicated to strengthening the well-being of the Cambodian people that it'd be impossible to see all of them.

But yesterday through the help of Susan and Anne Gordon we were invited to visit their not only the office of Womyn's Agenda for Change, but also took us on a tour of the drop-in center where many of the people they are trying to help and represent actually live. At the offices, Raffi and I sat down with some of the female workers in a garment factory nearby town and listened as they relayed their own personal account of what life is like for them. Quite different than I'd like to admit. They pretty much are constantly fighting for proper representation since many of the unions don't seem to care too much for their well-being. Not only do they fight against the often corrupt unions that try to quell any attempt for these women to speak out when they face unfair work conditions (cut quotas, low pay, physical abuse) but they also are trying to find a voice with their factory managers. In addition to the workplace struggles, many of these women are still subjected to the abuse of traditionalists who still believe that women should be confined to a domestic lifestyle, being subservient and never speaking out or leaving their home to try to cut a path to a better life for them and their family. What's most amazing about this "bad woman" stigma is not that it is still prevalent- one of the workers we talked to told me that she has faced personal condemnation for leaving her hometown to come to Phnom Penh and make a meager but necessary wage- but that it is impugning a person who is doing nothing but good. The costs on poor farmers are climbing every year. Pesticides, fertilizers, and water are all inflating in price. The country is in the third year of a severe drought. These women see the need for money in their villages and leave to come to the claustrophobic, dingy factories in the hope of earning enough to send $5/month back to their parents. They sleep in rooms that are commonly shared by 6 other women all doing the same thing. In short, they are sacrificing any personal comfort to assist those that they love, and what do they receive in return? Venomous assault.

Thankfully the WAC is on the correct track for making the truth about these workers known. Not only do they help find justice within the unions and the courts, but they focus intensely on empowering women in the garment industry. By networking and building trust with and among the women workers the WAC helps to train these women to understand their rights as laborers and humans through programs that teach about globalization, the rights of an employee and various other means to change how the women are perceived. Instead of just being another automaton in the assembly line or nameless drone behind a sewing machine the WAC ushers the women into believing and understanding that their voice matters because it's their life. There is no reason for such injustice. The bad news is that there is still a long long battle ahead for these women. The good news is that they are noticing a change. The best news is that you can see how they are coming to realize how important they each are to making that change happen.

After speaking with the women at the WAC, we all went to the nearby drop-in center. It's basically a place (this particular one just started operating in April of this year) where fellow workers can live. Much more than that it is a SAFE place for the workers to come together and share their ideas and feelings about the situation they are in. Not only does the drop in center offer support to a collective group of similar minds, but they offer free thought among the workers without fear. In our conversation with the workers- which was just a simple circle of about 15 people, both men and women- they expressed how important this place is for them. The factory owners and union officials do not like this idea of having the workers together because they know that means they are in danger of losing their unfair control. The workers are becoming a force behind the walls of this center and are backed with a great arsenal from the WAC.

The experience of being among the workers was quite different than when Raffi and I went to the organizations in Bangkok because this meeting took down the invisible barrier between us and the people who are actually in the front line. Changing from an administrator talking in the third person to a garment worker speaking about their own life is quite a shift in perspective. There is much more gravity infused within these talks from first hand accounts that it is difficult to describe. With hope we will be able to post some case studies the WAC has compiled so you can read some of these stories yourself, but it was amazing to see the determination of these people who are in worse situations than I could ever imagine. There is so much more to say, but basically last night Raffi and I were witnesses to slavery. Think of how ridiculous that seems to us now and know that it still exists in some form over here. Equality does not just mean in terms of gender, but in terms of what is acceptable for humans in any capacity. This is not acceptable. There needs to be a change and if they have the perseverance to do something, I would like to think that everyone reading this does too. Learn more about the organizations. Email them. Do something. Help. It's that simple.

If all goes well Raffi will have another great blog explaining more about our main man, Phil Marshall and what exactly he enlightened us about with his organization, but I'll let you all process this latest blog because it's a crazy non-fiction lifestyle that is existing this second. Thank you very much Susan, Anne, and all those at WAC and the drop-in center who were brave enough to speak openly to us about issues they've been taught were wrong to have opinions on.

Outside of the Phil Marshall piece there is another great blog in the works. I don't want to give too much away, but it's a wonderful yet heartbreaking tale that's getting more emotional with each passing day. I can't even believe what it's doing to me, but I'm feeling things I never have. The only thing I can tell you is the name: The Story of Ling. Coming soon.

-jacob

Womyn's Agenda for Change

2005-06-28T07:15:00.000-04:00

Finally!

2005-06-24T05:46:00.000-04:00

The new pictures are up.

These pics cover up to Angkor Wat--about a week ago. Unfortunately, our camera broke and we still need to buy a new one. But once we do, you'll get the pics straight away (of me looking haggard, having lost some weight, and Jacob continuing to look diesel as he continues his workout regimen on non-riding days).

Enjoy!

Also: a tremendous shout-out to the new hero of the trip, Phil Marshall of the Asia Regional Coalition to Prevent People Trafficking (arcppt). We will write all about Phil, his work, and what he has done for us, but briefly, the guy is an absolute prince and took us out to the best dinner I've had in months at the Foreign Correspondents' Club here overlooking the Tonle Sap River in Phnom Penh last night. A superb guy.

More later. Check out the pictures now by returning to our home page!

Pictures!

2005-06-23T07:20:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to let you all know that all of our most recent pictures will go up on the web within the next 12 hours. We finally have reached a location with high speed internet.

The bad news: our camera is broken and until we can buy a new one there will be no new pics.

The good news: we are in a city that undoubtedly sells cameras.

Cambodia

2005-06-23T04:44:00.000-04:00

Raphael here.

Now I know that we've had a bit of fun "taking a piss" as it were (that's a shout out to the English girls. It means "making fun of") of Cambodia. And everything that we've said has been true. But much of it has been a bit unfair and I want to explain a bit of what Cambodia is, what it has gone through, and what it's potential is.
As I think I mentioned earlier, Cambodia has been conquored numerous times throughout the last millenium, by its neighbors and by France. And war is never kind. But what has wrecked this country, absolutely ravaged it, was the misery, murder, and extermination of the Khmer Rouge.
This name may mean something to you, maybe not. But I will give a brief history of the country over the past 40 years, because we owe it that much.
When the USA went to war with Vietnam the king of Cambodia, Sihanouk, was sympathetic to the Vietnamese and allowed them to enter Cambodia for safety. Eventually, the USA started bombing Cambodia (and boy, did it bomb Cambodia! There are still gaping holes in the ground here, and the country is still full of unexploded ordinances that go off every spring). Eventually, Sihanouk was driven from power and this fellow, who was a pretty lousy guy himself, Lon Nol, took over. He demanded that the Vietnamese leave--which they wouldn't do, and soon the Vietnamese went to war with the Cambodians. But with a twist.
The Vietnamese had allied themselves with a rural Cambodian communist movement called the Khmer Rouge.
On April 15, 1975, the Khmer Rouge conquored Phnom Penh, the capital here. The locals were jubilant. They thought that it would be the end to a civil war that had brought misery to everyone and would be the beginning of peaceful times. After all, Cambodia was a wealthy country with plenty of food. They had no idea what was coming.
The Khmer forced everyone to evacuate Phnom Penh and all of the cities. Simply told them to pack up and start walking. Their idea was to force the entire country to become a rural agrarian cooperative. Families were seperated, and people marched into the middle of the jungle and told to live there for the rest of their lives. Needless to say, most died. At least one million, maybe two.

The thing is that the Khmer Rouge were peasants, with no real understanding of what they were doing. They distrusted everything that wasn't, so to speak, natural. They tortured and killed almost every single educated person in the country. If you could speak a foreign language--you were killed. If you had been to university--you were killed. If you wore spectacles--you were killed. These were considered imperialist, counter-revolutionary.

And so imagine what you had left. A totally uneducated ruling class who wanted to turn the country into a great big farm. But they had no one left to explain how to dig ditches, how to build bridges, or how to construct buildings. If you did know, you certainly didn't speak up. A nation's educated people was killed, and the whole country was wrecked. First, the Khmer turned on the 'New People'. Then they turned on the 'Ancients', the villagers whom they had applauded as the real Khmers. Finally they turned on themselves.

Just 20 km from where I sit now are the killing fields at Choung Eck, where 20,000 people were taken, blindfolded, gagged and beaten to death to save bullets. I will see it tomorrow, and I will see the pile of 8,000 skulls that rests there. Oh, and did I mention that this happened between 1975 and 1978.

In 1978 the Khmers hold over the people collapsed, the country fell into total chaos, and the Vietnamese came in and conquored the country like plucking an overly ripe fruit. This was the beginning of the guerilla war that lasted for over a decaded: the Khmer holdouts hiding in the forest and murdering people, the Vietnamese killing people, and the Cambodians living in misery while American hippies became yuppies and John Travolta taught us how to dance.

It was also during this time that Cambodia became the most heavily mined place on earth. I'm talking about land mines. Land mines still claim over three lives a day in this tiny country (far down from the 300 it claimed a few years ago). Land mines, of course, do not respect cease fires and they are still incredibly active. 1 out of every 250 Cambodians is an amputee, which is an incredibly high number in any country and is especially tragic in a country too poor to help them. Many farmers buy land and build homes on them in the dry season only to find that in the wet season, mines shift around and blow off the legs or arms of their family members. Keep in mind that there is absolutely no benefit to these weapons. Cambodia is now at peace, and Cambodians are dying as if they were still at war. Many of these mines are left over from Americans, and America (in case you were wondering) is one of only five countries in the entire world that has refused to sign the UN prohibition on the construction and deployment of land mines. Another little known fact is that the USA's largest producer of land mines is IBM-the computer company.

Anyhow, in 1991 (!!) the country finally signed a peace accord bringing its wars to a close. And so now, still dealing with its amputees, seperated families, and complete lack of an educated class or culture of education, it is trying to rebuild. I cannot imagine how a country could face such devastation, face such incredible hurdles in rebuilding, and still possess the generosity, kindness and friendliness that we have witnessed every step of the way.

The trade and traffic of human beings is disgusting. The forcing of women and children to become whores turns both of our stomachs. And yet this is not simply the act of a few terrible people with a taste for evil commerce. It is a symptom of a sick country. One where parents are so poor that they have to sell their kids, one where people our age (and your age too) have none of the options that you have. They need to eat.

Last night Jacob and I had the pleasure of meeting a delightful French girl, Céline, at a very western supermarket here in Phnom Penh. She is working in development. Later we went to a bar where we met two other westerners working in development, one with Friends International and one with Save the Children. What they all told us is that the main problem with Cambodia is the corruption of the officials. they do not object to corruption to survive, how could anyone object to that, they asked. But what disgusted them was wholesale theft of public funds, while the country wallows in minefields, forced prostitution, and (forgive me) terrible food.

I just want to give a sense of what it can be like over here. Every day we see amputees begging. And these amputees are the way they are because perhaps last year they stepped off a trail and activated a mine left by American soldiers fighting the Vietnamese 30 years ago. This country (and Laos) are the two most heavily bombed countries on earth, and they were bombed by America. And while we have gone on, healed our wounds, made our documentaries, and invaded other places, they are still getting blown to pieces. It is hard not to feel guilty for the fact that I never knew about Cambodia until I got here.

I guess, if you're wondering what you can do (as I am), here would be my suggestions. One, tell your representatives in office to get the United States to oppose goddamn landmines. And two, try to support some of the organizations that are doing vital reconstruction work here. We will be telling you about them in the next few days as we meet them. There are people from all over the world that live here, eating this food, because they want to make things right for a people that never deserved what happened to them. And you can help them. You can be a part of the transformation of Cambodia from a country of despair to one of hope.

Jeez, I know how lame that sounds. Or maybe not lame, but cliché. But believe me, if you could sit where I'm sitting right now (watching people dig with their hands to build walls) you would realize that 'cliché' is Khmer for 'life'.

Arachnids: The next REAL dinner?

2005-06-23T03:25:00.000-04:00

Damn! Raffi already beat me in relaying the story of our tantalizing tarantula dish a couple of days ago. What he did not tell you about was the manner in which we went about finding these eight-legged eclairs and how they were devoured. I feel that I'm getting ever closer to being a serious contestant on Fear Factor for all the ridiculous organic matters we've eaten because someone else called it "food". We are quickly becoming the masters in eating things that shouldn't be. For these tarantulas it was a bit of a task. Not finding them. The town of Skuon is known as "Spider Town" and immediately upon our arrival to this dust bowl village we saw women with trays and trays of glazed tarantulas aching to find an empty stomach for them to nest in. Of course Raffi and I shrug our shoulders and say why not. After the initial riot Raffi explained earlier we went back and found a woman with a tray full of about 100-200 leftovers and we each picked one up. I would say, in my scientific opinion (I did get a degree in Biology, ya know) that these spiders had leg spans of 4-5 inches, each and looked like they wouldn't hesitate to bite you hard if they were still alive. Lucky for us they weren't and we had the slightly deranged and passive-aggressive behavior of manually defanging them before putting them in our mouths. After picking out the fangs we precariously broke off a couple of the legs and ate them one at a time. Once the initial shock passed the rest came easy although the plump abdomen was a challenge to chew through as it burst onto my tongue with a thick whitish discharge that vaguely felt like biting into the yolk of a hard-boiled egg.

Well, that was idiotic. I'm glad we haven't eaten anything else so stupid. Oh wait. We have. The day before "Spider Town" we were in Kompong Thom. A fairly sleazy city where trust is a hard virtue to bestow upon anyone and you keep your bag just a little bit closer to your body. Ever since entering Cambodia there has been one delicacy Raffi and I had seen quite frequently but always kept in our periphery, thinking there'd always be a better choice for grabbing a quick bite. But damnit we're stupid and Kompong Thom seemed to be the epicenter of this particular dish. A fine lemon pastry coated with sugar and icing? A tiramisu decorated with exotic nuts and a fruit center? No no no.....crickets, of course! Yes, in Kompong Thom Raffi and I decided it was time to go to the marker and instead of taking our chances with mysterious fruits and broths we'd try something that we could clearly and easily identify. Dried and seasoned crickets. There were women at this market with trays holding hundreds and hundreds of these dead arthropods so we saunter over to one and each grab our choice chirper. Let me first say that Cambodia is not a heavily populated country and humans have not yet invaded much of the natural habitat so the animals here have more freedom of growth since they are not stifled into small niches that prohibit bodily expansion. That being said, these crickets were HUGE. The biggest crickets I had ever seen in my life. Why not put one in my mouth? And so I did. Although there is an ever-present language barrier in ever place we go, the locals seemed to understand by my initial hesitance that it was my first time trying this "treat" and that it is not common in the place I am from. And the taste? Like I told my parents, I'm not going to make it that easy for you. If you want to know, try one. What I will say is that despite the similarities between spiders and crickets- the crisp, spiny legs, bulging compound eyes, hard exoskeletons, external mandibles, and open circulatory system- they taste nothing alike.

Outside of our adventures in dining (thank you, asshose) we've actually been going out and seeing sites that I assume most other tourists don't get the opportunity to see. For instance, the main attraction at Kompong Thom lies 25 km north of the city at a site called Sambor Prey Kuk. It is a collection of over 100 temples dating back to pre-Angkorian times. Essentially, it's like looking at the forefathers to the popular temples of Angkor Wat. Thankfully we had the chance to go there and get in even deeper glimpse into the past culture of the country, and it was well worth the bumpy ride. (Sidenote: getting there and back was the first time I had been in an automobile since arriving at the Cincinnati airport.) I'm not exactly sure where I should start with describing these temples since there are so many aspects to them that amalgamate into it's greatness. For starters, these complexes, all devoted to the god Vishnu, resembled man-made mountains reaching about 30-50 feet in height. Most were in decrepit states but primarily due to the harshness of time and nature instead of looters. Also, these temples were even more engulfed by the forest than any complex at Angkor Wat (included Ta Prohm) and given that there was essentially no one else around for our entire tour I felt like I was the first explorer to stumble across these hidden edifices. My favorite was a mound called the Temple of the Lion, a large cylindrical chamber that was circumvented by deep jungle but stood with two wonderfully carved stone lions guarding the rites of passage. Our tour guide knew little English outside of "lion", the numbers 1-8, and "car" but surprising there was one phrase he was very good at repeating- "American bomb". Seems that our US bombing raids in the area came dangerously close to destroying these temples that have stood for countless centuries before our ignorance of war. And when I say dangerously close, I mean that some of these craters were no more than 20 feet away from reducing the lion guardians to gravel. It's scary to think how close Sambor Prey Kuk came to utter annihilation and would not be able to be enjoyed by anyone else in the future, but luckily that is not the case and it will hopefully remain fused within the forest for centuries longer.

Two days ago we also had an interesting experience while taking one of our afternoon breaks when the sun is at it's zenith would laugh at us if we tried to cycle through it's blistering rage. Between towns we found a Buddhist monastery with sufficient shade, so we strung up our hammocks to do some reading and napping while the heat diminished. It took little time for the resident monks to befriend us and test their English, which was a welcome request. As part of their innate generosity they gave Raffi and I a private tour of their temple, giving us an exclusive look at the immense Buddha statue and vivid artwork that covered every square inch of the interior. Imagine that. Being surrounded by a dozen monks and being inside their holy area of reverence. It was great. But the fanfare quickly wore thin, for me anyways. The monks were curious yet let us be when we told them we needed to rest for a while, but the neighboring kids weren't so understanding and did everything in their power to make a show out of us. I've gotten used to the intense staring. Every village we pass every person turns their head to watch us ride by, most times with indecipherable things said to their friends that are most certainly about how weird we look. I've gotten use to the laughing and pointing. I've almost even gotten used to the people that stand like statues in distance watching Raffi and I as we stop in any small town to have a drink and take a break for 15 minutes. But that day outside the monastery was something else. These people were doing everything in their power to get us to move in our hammocks or do something in general. Standing 20 feet away they would shout "hello" over and over and over while giggling as they awaited a response. When that didn't work they started ringing the bells on their bicycles hoping to prompt movement from me. When that didn't work they started inching closer and closer to my hammock rotating around it to try to get a good peek at what I may look like. Whenever I did move, turn the page on my book, readjust my leg, all I heard was either "ssshhhh"s so they wouldn't scare me away or an increase in taunts so I'd do something else to entertain them like scratch my foot. In short, I hate to say it but I'm reconsidering whether I will ever go to a zoo again, one of my favorite places, because i feel as if I know what it is like to be on the other side, as the captive. It is not fun to be under a microscope and trying to be manipulated for someone else's amusement when all I want is to just be anonymous. For those of you who know me you know that I am a private person (to say the VERY least), and now I feel pity for those koalas, pandas, and gorillas that must face jeers while they try to slumber. It is a pity.

Well, I'm starting to get a bit hungry now and since we have a little bit of time in the Penh maybe Raffi and I can sniff out some fine food. Where do you go after spiders and crickets? Maybe if I'm lucky I can find a nice juicy slug to suck like a lollipop or perhaps a bowl full of rats' tails in a nice marinara sauce. Mmmmmm......snake lungs. Oh yeah, last thing. Thank you very much Josie (my sister) for being the BIG BLOGGER! It is much appreciated and keep them coming. I'm glad that even your co-workers are getting amusement at all our follies. Until next time.

-jacob

Skoun, Cambodia

2005-06-22T04:46:00.000-04:00

June 22, copied from my journal

It is morning here, about 6 am, and now seems like a fine time to mention the fine dining here in Cambodia as well as the closely related topic of plumbing.

Invaded for the past 2,000 years by the Siamese (Thais), Cambodians, Burmese, Chan, Chinese and French the Cambodians surely have developed a cuisine that is international and quite delicious. Right? Wrong. The Khmer people are a proud sort and have remained stalwart adherents to a diet of ill-tasting (actually, disgusting) food that sits in lukewarm vats all day. Now, as Jacob loses said food in streams and squirts (let's not be queasy about reading this--we are living it! I have recently finished my own session) I will describe this cuisine.
Wherever meat is advertised, one receives scraps of bone, gristle, organs and intestine (to be fair, Cambodia is home to the world's scrawniest chickens. There is probably less meat on one than on a KFC drumstick). All cooking is done over fires in ceramic buckets, boit the gas ranges as in Thailand, so food is cooked, poured into vats, and doled out throughout the day at room temperature (somewhere around 95 degrees).
now I began this trip with a voracious appetite. I love Thai food, love it even more at 50 cents a plate, and ate constantly. And in Cambodia, though the food did not compare, I continued to experiment and eat heartily. No more.
Let me be perfectly frank: this country has nothing good to eat. For two days now Jacob and I have eaten bread and crackers, augmented only by lukewarm sodapops and beers that we pick up in villages. Yesterday we found an actual bakery (vestige of the French) and found some decent sweet rolls. A good breakfast, you might think. Sort of, except that we ate three rolls over the course of a 93 km ride through the heat of Cambodia and an 18 hour day. And I wasn't hungry for anything else.
Finally, we convinced ourselves that we needed to eat something else for dinner, so that our medicine would stay down. So I got a bowl of vegetable soup, which I knew I'd lose first thing (which I just did).
Aah, I forgot to mention, the culinary gift of Skoun to Cambodia is the fried tarantula. They eat it here for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We came in yesterday, stopped in the market, which like all markets here smells of feces (though to be fair, this is often just the smell of durian--a 20 lb fruit that smells so bad when it is opened that it is banned in classy hotels and restaurants) and approached the spider sellers. Instantly we were mobbed. All of the girls wanted us to buy from them, as they shoved plates of fried tarantulas in our faces. That was unpleasent, but when we protested and tried to get them to give us some space (they were pressed around us and our bikes) they opened their bags full of live tarantulas and started holding them out at us. One girl tossed some live tarantulas onto me. Believe me, this is the closest I have ever come to pulling a knife on someone. I hate spiders, and we were surrounded, couldn't move, and this little girls is throwing huge spiders onto me. But seriously, how can one pull a knife on a girl with that many tarantulas.
Oh, and we stayed at a whorehouse again. No real choice in the matter. It was the only non-dungeon guesthouse in town, and the rooms that went for hourly rates were in a seperate structure. Lovely.
Ah, I lost my initial thread. The plumbing. Now it isno innovation of the Cambodians, it is at the very least in Thailand as well, but there is a wonderful device here that I have taken to calling ass-hose.
Think, if you will, of that hose that sits next to many sinks in America. It is retractable and has a trigger, so that one can pull the hose out, pull the trigger and clean dishes. It can clean other things as well.
This hose is used here in place of toilet paper, and I must say, after some initial hesitation, I have found it to be quite marvelous. A gentle yet invigorating spray that is far more thorough than toilet paper, far less invasive too, and is quite invigorating. One thing that recommends Cambodia. The food often does not feel good going in, but it feels fine going out.

Kapoung Thom, Cambodia

2005-06-19T01:19:00.000-04:00

Hey all,

I am sitting here, exhausted as never before (except for the last 24 hours) in the heavy sweaty heat of another Cambodian day. I only recently found out that it was noon, and I can't even be sure of the time (I pay by the minute for internet and I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find that they jimmied the clocks on the computers). Mainly, I have been telling time by the feelings in my legs. I know how they felt at 5 am, and when I got into this city and went to sleep, I woke up and could pretty much tell the time by how the pain had gone down.

Let me tell you about yesterday.
We left Siam Reap, an amazing little tourist town near to the Angkor Wat complex that is transforming itself more and more every day into a city with all of the Western amenities. We had a great time there and relaxed fully. We also bought some mosquito nets and hammocks, because Cambodia is too sparsely populated to make hotels a frequent occurence. We realized that if we do get stuck outside of a town, it'd be great to be able to string up our oung-h'rongs with our moungs (hammocks with nets in Khmer) and get some sleep. So we started out yesterday with that as a distinct possibility in our minds.
But after seeing that this town of Kg Thom was only 143 km, we decided to make it all in one go. You see, the road was good this time, and we couldn't imagine not making it. We started at 7 am and were determined to be halfway done by 1 pm. That seemed like a great start. And we made it, we did it. 72 km by 1 pm.

But let me explain the heat.

The heat here is like nothing that I've ever experienced. It comes out in full force around 10 am and it does not diminish appreciably until sunset, unless clouds move in (which they didn't). Now the ride turned out to be about 150km, which is 93.8 miles. And that is a long way to travel. I have done centuries before, did them on this trip in fact, but yesterday was too much. The heat is insidious. It is hot out, of course, and we sweated profusely. But what is much sneakier is the amount of energy that is drained from the body simply by being in such heat. So we rode and rode and rode, took breaks and rode more. And we hardly ever seemed to make progress. We were constantly exhausted and yet constantly far from our goal. Finally, we had 35 km left, about two hours of hard riding with maybe a couple of 5 minute breaks. The road was still so hot that it shimmered, and we felt those shimmers floating up all over our bodies. The sun was setting, our bodies were aching, and we stopped talking. It was time to just ride.

Soon it was getting dark; now we rode as hard as our bodies would allow, watching the km slowly click off our cyclometers. And then it was dark. I didn't have my headlight out, and there was no question of stopping to get it out. Jacob held his out for both of us and we pushed ourselves just about as far as I've ever pushed myself. Our legs were dead, our shoulders sagging, it was only adrenaline, sheer adrenaline, that kept our legs pumping and our hearts racing.

Then the lightning started.

Clouds were filling the sky as the sun set, and as we rode through the dark, the southern sky was filled with constant flashes of lightning, and bolts that illuminated the whole night. A cool, strong wind began to blow in from the south. We rode on and on, but the monsoon seemed imminent, and one does not want to ride through a monsoon in the dark. We pulled over at whaat felt like the last second (trees were bending over fully and trash was flying across the road) into the house of a Cambodian. These houses are built on stilts and a family and friends were in the basement, of sorts, under the stilts watching muay thai, which is kickboxing. Down there were also the pigs, the cows, and liberal piles of fresh turds.

We asked if we could shelter from the storm. They agreed. I will only say that, sadly, the storm never materialized as we expected. It only amounted to a light rain, and we could have made the final 8 km into town. What happened instead is that these incredibly friendly Khmer people fed us (rice and salty fish), allowed us to take baths (we pumped our own water from the well) and gave us a cot and allowed me to tie up a hamock to the stilts. I would love to say that we slept wonderfully, but I will say instead that these people were wonderful. I loved the experience, though it was hardly a comfortable one. I know that Jacob feels differently; he would have much preferred to make it to the hotel, and he said so. But, as always, he was up for the stress, and we spent a painful night.

At 5 am we woke with the sun, and exhausted (absolutely) made it into this town. Quickly found a room for $4, some lousy food (no more excuses, Cambodian food is totally sub-par) and will now go back to sleep. Mom and Dad (and Jacob's too): know that we have learned from our mistakes and will not go riding in the dard or pushing ourselves that hard again. We have other plans for how to ride, but we won't share those with you, in case it makes you freak out.

Many thanks to all for your support!
Raphael

Angkor Wat

2005-06-19T01:11:00.000-04:00

Tour for Equality

Angkor Wat! Today I REALLY got to see the majesty of these ancient temples. The day before Raffi and I went around sunset to check out what we could but I was hindered by a sickness induced by the wonderful anti-malarial medication we're taking. Even though it's technically poisonous I thought I'd be fine taking the pill on a stomach devoid of food but full of warm beer. What a bad idea. Besides not getting a wink of sleep before sunrise I broke the insomnia into four neat sections by getting up on three separate occasions to vomit profusely in the bathroom. I can count on one hand how many times I've seriously thrown up, so this was just an anomaly of the rarest sort. Add on top of that a throbbing dull headache the medicine is known to cause and you pretty much just want to die for about 24 hours. The whole next day I started the morning with a follow-up vomit session. My toilet in Siem Reap and I are so close now, it's almost romantic. Me caressing her sides late at night. Whispering prayers into her heart. Very emotional.

But I bounced back from that day and the next day we really attacked Angkor Wat with our good friend, Sara Ball, who stayed in the same guesthouse with us. About the temples- how can I explain it in simple words, such an inhibition of the awe of these complexes comes with the limitations of words. How shocking and deep it was to take in. The complexity, size, and liberty of access allowed me to feel as if I had been absorbed by it's immensity. Absorbed not just physically into it's stony landscape, but spiritually as well. It's undeniable to continually find yourself stupified by the craftsmanship of people such a long time ago. From the looming towers adorned with serene yet ominous faces of long past royalty to the deeply and symmetrically intricate carvings, I found myself completely engrossed by areas the size of football fields just as easily as I could a single corridor. Such dedication and belief in higher powers is overpoweringly evident with each structure. Nothing in their imagination or vision was stunted, as if they had all the time and means that we do today to erect such brooding edifices. The outlying and often invading jungle that extinguished all other markers for a different time period only added to the feeling that I had actually traveled back in time and could sense the majesty. For some reason, we managed to stay ahead of most of the tourist mass so sometimes it was as if we were alone for our own private comprehension, free of distractions. At times it was only myself, the temple, and reality of how dwarfed I've become in every sense of the word. The sun shone perfectly giving the most visibility at the serene setting of glory that Angkor still carries. Never to be lost except the collapsing walls and rain erosion. It knows how great it is and shares, having the deepest pride for itself but none of the ego. This I spent a whole day reveling in.

The pictures we took (and we took A LOT of them) will help. But who knows when that'll happen. Trust me, it will blow your mind, until you go and it really snares you. I love Angkor Wat!

Now while I have a chance let me say a big thank you to our beautiful English girls who are keeping their promise of helping our loneliness and commenting to these rambling blogs. Much appreciated, Katy, Ebony, and Ellie. Your picture will be up soon. Also, a thank you to Tom & Samantha, David from Charlotte, and of course Sara Ball. You guys helped make Siem Reap a place I never wanted to leave when I wasn't explosively vomiting.

-jacob

Pictures

2005-06-14T23:00:00.000-04:00

Sorry about this. The Shutterfly program that I am using to upload the pictures estimates that it will take about 28 hours for them to upload. I am going to scratch it and try again when we hit Phnom Penh, next week. We may be able to get a high speed line there.

Siam Reap

2005-06-14T22:45:00.000-04:00

Raphael here. I really don't have much to add to what Jacob said about the whorehouse and the anti-road--except to say that he did about as good a job as I can imagine possible at capturing it. I hope that whoever out there read it (our English lassies of course, and Josie too) got into it, then looked around your room, your fridge, your toilet, and thanked your lucky stars.
The trip has been a challenge, and the riding has been quite difficult. We did not meet a single Cambodian that spoke more than 15 words of English until we reached Siam Reap. We have become adept at bargaining, ordering food, and getting directions with sign language. And I want to give much respect (Booyakasha!) to Jacob as well. This is his first time out of the USA, and I can't imagine a more difficult or grueling initiation. But he doesn't complain. He is stoic, stalwart, and ready to finish whatever we set out to do.
I want to let you all know that we have been dutiful about taking pictures, but it is very hard to find internet connections that allow us to upload them. It is relatively early in the day here, and I woke up solely to come out while the bandwith is clear to get these online. So thank you for your patience, and enjoy the pictures. You can access them at the bottom of our home page.

Siem Reap, Cambodia

2005-06-14T03:09:00.000-04:00

Tour for Equality

Oh sweet Lord, where to begin. Well, we're now in Cambodia, country #2 in our increasing list of international travel. What can be said about this country so far? Sure, there are already some great stories (which i will pen in detail later on in this entry), but let's not be selfish and start off by all the "me me me" antecdotes. The first thing I should mention about Cambo Land has to be about the overwhelming niceness of the people. I'm assuming that those other tourists with their faces pressed up against the window of their bus don't get such contact with the inhabitants they pass on the road, and that's just a total shame. It's such a good feeling to seen genuine kindness radiating out of them towards us, total strangers. The kids- and there are A LOT of children- literally sprint out of their houses or fields to wave and shout "HELLO!" at us as we pass. I don't want to be too presumptuous, but I almost think I understand what it feels like to be a celebrity. Raffi and I probably waved and shouted "hello" or "bye bye" 8 billion times the past two days because every single person we see on the road initiates the warm exchange. Every single person is smiling. Every single person is a reason to rubberneck.

Now, onto the stuff I know you'll enjoy. The funny and unfortunately somewhat embarrassing events that have happened since we've crossed over. The start and our first taste of Cambodia was completely opposite to what it's turned out to be. The border city, Poipet, was full of con artists, scammers, men with hawkeyes and was generally a dust cloud of corruption. The smells were putrid while the air was thick with diesel smoke, the drivers on the powdery road as erratic as possible. Horns blaring. General chaos ran rampant. After a meal Raffi and I left that place with low expectations to how the rest of the country would play out, but once we got away from Poipet things turned around for the better. Read the above paragraph again and combine that with the pictures that WILL be posted soon and that'll describe the first day quite well.

That night, we made it from the border all the way to a town called Sisophon. All seemed well here as we quickly found a guesthouse, but from there it turned into something that resembled a Twin Peaks episode. There was something off about this place but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was....too nice. Hmmmm. Well whatever, Raffi and I eat and go to the market and come back to unwind before bed. And again I'm assaulted with this vibe that something is really eerie about this place. The ratio of females to males was...off, and the age bracket most represented were in the young 20s but they weren't tourists. Why are there only young people, primarily females, seeming to live in this guesthouse? Why is there a pretty sleazy old guy running the place and mingling around with these ladies? Why are there always taxis outside of the gate to the place? Still, whatever. Raffi and I get back to our room and a girl, who I assume is the daughter of the owner and the informal ambassador to the hotel follows us up to our room. We think it'd be cool to hang out, but she knows little English so it's difficult. I go down to their patio to see if there's anyone else who wants to hang and when i get down there I'm assaulted by a small army of girls. This is just weird! We try conversation but I don't know Khmer and they don't know English so the best we can do is play awkward charades. Raffi comes down after a little while, surveys the area, looks at me and speaks the truth I've been denying to believe is true. We're staying in a whorehouse. And this is not a guess. I don't want to go into detail but the charade game they were playing got to be rather graphic in what they were asking me. Yes, it was indeed a whorehouse. And before anyone says anything, yes, we realize the utter irony in the fact that we're riding for women's rights and end up in the belly of the beast. Once we both had irrefutable evidence to the real identity of our "guesthouse" we literally ran up to our room. Not to be deterred the girls were soon opening our door and trying to come in. We continued running. Left the place and found a restaurant to lay low at for a couple hours watching really bad Asian karaoke. The restaurant was almost completely empty and outside of the weird pink lighting and checkered floor (VERY Twin Peaks) something here was weird as well. Look out any window and the rest of the city was dead. Like a ghost town at midnight. But this restaurant did have some patrons. Old guys, with bald heads, in the company of again young 20ish year old girls. We looked at each other and realized that all the girls there were hookers as well and they were socializing with their "dates". Again we ran. Back to the hotel and fell asleep as quickly as we could with cheesy techno music blaring out of some of the rooms by the patio. In the morning we were gone by 7am and didn't look back. Sisophon was disgusting.

Yesterday, our goal was to get from Sisophon to Siem Reap. A 105 km ride. Not very far, but now that it's done I can say that it was the most physically and mentally daunting challenge I think I've ever experienced. No lie. I don't even know how to start describing the ride. Let's begin with the easiest facet. The heat.

The heat: Merciless, fierce, and unending. I had grown accustomed to a thick cloud cover blowing in around the early afternoon to thwart the scorching devil, but not this day. It's rays beat spikes first into my chest, then the top of my head, and finally searing it's signature across my back. An all day solar assault. No rain either. It's monsoon season and there wasn't even a dark cloud in sight much less a cold drop.

Next, and the main focus of my ailments, the road. I had done my research and read up on this stretch of National Highway 6. Horrendous and treacherous, blah blah blah. Hardest part of the highway to cycle, yada yada yada. Even if those travel books intimidated me as much as they wanted to, I couldn't have come close to imagining how horrific the road actually was. It was like an anti-road. One long piece of land Cambodia has said, "Hey, don't try any sort of transportation on this narrow strip." Rocks of all sizes jutted out like stone daggers from hell, breaching the earth's surface. The potholes were deep, all sizes, and constant. There really was no good path to take, although I kept trying to figure out a way to beat the road. "There has to be some secret. There has to be some way to avoid the earth, wrinkled like a 90 year old woman's elbow skin." There wasn't, outside of mastering the art of flying. So Raffi and I stayed as far on the shoulder as we could without falling off the thing and when sand wasn't deep enough to swallow our tires. When that happened it was just a game of trying to find the smallest boulder possible to run over and this game didn't end for 75 kilometers. Imagine cycling with octagon-shaped wheels and you'll begin to scratch the surface of the Martian-esque landscape we faced, and beat. Beyond horrendous, beyond torturous. A seemingly never-ending punishment. Now take everything you've pictured from my description, think really hard about how bad this road is. Get a good image in your mind of the worst highway you could think of. Got it? Multiply it by 10 and then you're coming close. I wish I were exaggerating.

The breaks we took to break up the abuse into compact intervals could only be called such because we were off our bikes. The "restaurants" we ate at, specializing in food rich with intestine, bone, liver, and other random organs, were normally just a person's home witha couple plastic chair around a rickety table. The flies attacked in fleets, trying and succeeding on landing on every part of my body and meal. I was constantly swatting or waving my hands around like madman as I saw these flies landing on and leaving from my chopsticks the second before they entered my mouth. The smell of feces was always in the air and scrawny chickens normally bopped over to pick up any scraps.

Again, this blog is getting long, but let me mention that Raffi never broke yesterday. He was always telling a story during our breaks to try to generate a laugh or just relieve tension. I was in the dumps for a while and a pretty sour mood in general, but Raffi never let the task overtake him. It really did help and I thought you should all know how dedicated this boy is.

Time to go now. My axle apparently bent somewhere on the road yesterday and Raffi is out trying to find a bike shop to replace it. Tomorrow we should be seeing the temples of Angkor Wat. That should be a good blog. Expect pictures soon....really and I hope all is going well. Thanks for your time.

-Jacob

Following up Jacob

2005-06-10T06:14:00.000-04:00

Hey, this is Raphael. Just wanted to apologize for not getting our pictures up yet. I am not able to install the software on the computer here to upload pics, so it will have to wait a few days until we get access again. My apologies.

A great big thanks again to our photo sponsors, Shutterfly and Sandisk!!!

Sa Kaeow

2005-06-10T05:02:00.000-04:00

Tour for Equality

Hello again! it's great to be able to write to you all again so soon. It seems that Raffi and i have fallen into a good spot and have the chance to get all these little things done like give updates and (hopefully) put a bunch of beautiful pictures up for you all to see.

We're currently in the city of Sa Kaeow. Yesterday was a full day of riding. About 60 miles which might not be a lot for the cycling juggernaut known as Raphael Parker, but for me, the nascent biker, 60 miles was quite the accomplishment. Aren't you proud of me, Mom?

Chachaengsao was a wonderful city and we hated leaving that place but that's the way a tour goes. You tour, not stay. We did spend a lot of time getting our stuff together mainly because it was a great place to be at, but soon it was time to hit the road. Thanks to our bike guru in Bangkok, Nam Chai, and the great maps our boy, Chainarong Keeratipoj (we called him "Go"), our confidence to continue eastward without disruption was high. There's just so much happening that i don't know how to relay it back to those reading this. I feel I could write a book on each hour that passes, but i'll give you the abridged version for the sake of time. Yesterday's trek, although long and arduous was full of so many small rewards. Almost every person we passed or automobile that passed us help people giving us a wave, applause or thumbs up. I felt like Raffi and i were the front runners of some race we don't know we're participating in. At one point, and this is amazing, some kids on a motorcycle came up to us as we were riding and offered Raffi a drink without us even having to break pace. It's like those marathons where people just hold out cups and the runners take it in stride. That showing of support was completely unneccessary but highly highly appreciated.

The countryside has been similar to the midwest but with subtle changes in the flora and fauna. i've seen so many new species of bird and tree that it's boggling. The market we ate in yesterday morning was definitely an exercise in tolerance. Cut open pigs' heads and various fish entrails decorated the fly-infested huts and for some reason Raffi and i thought it'd be a brilliant idea to sit there and have a bite. i believe we ended up with a soup mixture of liver, brain and intestine that rivaled the things found on Fear Factor, but that's all part of the experience I suppose.

We ended up staying in hotel in the city of Kabin Buri (I often think of our friend Mo because most of the city's end in "Buri", which is exactly the way she spells her last name. hey mo!) The hotel was a shithole. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. It was like a place the committte of Project Mayhem in Fight Club would hold one of their secret meetings. Nothing really worked properly and I think we crashed the biggest mosquito party in the area when went by our beds.

needless to say we rose very early this morning, about 6am, and decided to get out of that place as quickly as possible. We also wanted to beat the intense sunshine since we started taking the antimalarial drug that is for Western Cambodia, an area we should enter in two days time. This drug makes you super sensitive to sun and neither one of us is very curious to experience a clinical case of sun stroke. After only about 30 miles we've now settled for the day in Sa Kaeow. The city is great and the people have been as well. The scenery was much more rural than anything we'd yet seen and as a result we had some great homecooked soup on the side of the road that I can't wait to taste again. What's weird is thinking that this cuisine will soon change as we go to another country.

Soon, there should not only be posted pictures, but the start of our information on women's rights that we've been compiling. In Bangkok we visited both the Foundation For Women and the Center for teh Protection of Children's Rights. Both were amazing places and it's good to know that there's such progress being made in an insanely lucrative, profitable, yet vile industry. You shall all be informed of such efforts shortly as our director, morgan Solem, compiles the data we've procured.

Alright, this blog is getting lengthy, but we've had more time than normal to catch up on things. Our laundry is actually being washed in machines as opposed to bathroom sinks and we should be fresh dressed and ready for more hard riding tomorrow. until next time.

-jacob

Chachaengsao, Thailand

2005-06-08T22:41:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone,

We are in the wonderful provincial capital of Chachaengsao district here in Thailand. It is morning, and we are way behind schedule. It gets so hot and humid here during the day (temperatures in the upper 90's) that it is basically imperative for us to hit the road early, take a break during the midday heat, and then finish in the evening. Well, we are late for that goal today.

I cannot even begin to explain how miserable and difficult our first four days were in Thailand. It seemed that everything went wrong. Not only did we get robbed of our cash and a tool that we have been in constant need of since (Leatherman Super-Tool), but I lost my moleskine notebook which has all of my personal info and the names and addresses of people from the trip. Also, numerous other setbacks. Each day has been an exercise in staying positive and optimistic, but this is very hard to do when setbacks occur in the very beginning of a trip. We have no context for our misfortune and the whole of the country begins to feel malicious.

Two days ago we finally made preparations to leave Bangkok. First we stopped at a bicycle shop where we ended up spending hours, and too much money to make Jacob's bike roadworthy. Then, with the day getting late, we headed out of town. About 10 miles down the road, I noticed that there was a problem with my bike chain. Nothing that I couldn't handle. As desperate as we were to leave Bangkok, I realized that it would be foolish to ignore a bicycle issue for the sake of escaping town, so we stopped to fix it. Well, it turns out that the chain tool I have is inadequate and it bent and broke after I got the chain off. We were absolutely exasperated and miserable and Jacob caught a cab backinto town to the bicycle shop. I waited on theside of a highway for the next two hours and when he returned with a new version of the identical tool, it turned out that thebikeshop had not fixed what was wrong with the chain. So there was no way to keep going. We had to walk our bikes across the highway and to a hotel in the rain, and spend $20 to spend another night in a city that we hated.

This probably does not seem like such a setback, but at the time it was just another day of misery and misfortune. It was as if we took two steps forward and one step back, and then another...and then another. All I can say is that I am happy that Jacob was here because he is a stalwart companion and though I know he was miserable and disgusted, he did a pretty admirable job keeping it all in.

Yesterday I took a cab back to the bike shop to get the chain fixed. The shop was closed for the day but they opened for me which was the first indication that our luck was changing. I got our gear fixed, returned to the hotel and Jacob and I took off.

Now a few notes about riding through Bangkok and really Thailand in general: 1, There is a great deal of chaos in the streets here with tuk-tuks, motorbikes, cars, and all manner of vehicles that have been patched together by resourceful mechanics, like unicycles with engines bolted to the back of storage containers for moving down the roads. 2, This miasma of traffic (which often includes people speeding down the wrong side of the street) is not nearly as dangerous as anything I've encountered in New York, despite the seeming danger. It is a credit to Thai people and their gentle and laid-back character that we have never been honked at except to let us know that they are behind us (I am a connoisseure of honks). In traffic the Thais do not push forward while stopped because they seem to expect smaller vehicles to zig and zag in front of them and they allow them to. More wonderfully, we have never been cut off, and cars have been perfectly content to slow down when they see that we need to get over in front of them. My pointis not that we drive recklessly (okay, Mom and Dad?) but that drivers here are five times as considerate as drivers in the US. 3, the pollution here is so bad on the roads that I have been dealing with sinus issues. I am also a connoisseure of smoke, the acrid but less lingering blue smoke of tuk-tuks and carts, and the stinking, hot black smoke of buses and trucks.

Anyhow, we left yesterday and after about 15 miles we got out of the heavy traffic and into the countryside. Rice paddies and fields, and we had a really nice ride, despite the heat. Stopped at a couple of the roadside stands for lunch and even ran into three Malaysians who had studied in Ohio at Ohio U. and the U of Dayton.

We rode all through the burning hot day (it is 95 degrees and up here every day) and made it to a provincial capital called Chachaengsao which is pronounced Cha-Cheng-Sow (like a female pig).
Everyone here has been friendly, the traffic is less, and it has been simple and easy to navigate. Very very few people speak English, but we know the word for hotel and people pointed us the right way. Otherwise we just go to restaurants and point at what people have as our way of asking for it. On the whole trip I have not seen but one actual restaurnat in a building. Usually it is just a little cart with a wok in it and a rice steamer and they cook what you want and there are a couple of tables next to it. This is the case both in the city and along the roads way out in the country.
Anyhow, stopped here and showered in a decrepit little hotel but on the banks of a beautiful river. Went to a market in the evening and met some people that were so friendly that they lifted our spirits even more. Our bad luck is simply over. Later we stopped to watch some kids play Ta-Khaow, an amazing game that is just like volleyball except that the net is lower and you can't use your hands. You use a wicker ball and kick it. Spiking the ball is accomplished by doing flips so that your feet are way up in the air and kicking the ball downwards. Jacob stopped by and they invited him to play. They gave him the ball, saying "Welcome to Thailand" and we were just floored again by the generosity and friendliness. So happy to be out of Bangkok.

Sorry if this blog is a bit discombobulated, but we are in a rush and must leave now to try to reach a town60 miles away.

Step 1: Bangkok

2005-06-05T02:17:00.000-04:00

Tour for Equality

Hello everyone,

Well, it's been quite a hectic couple of days. Every step has been filled with some sort of commotion, confusion and anxiety. Even this second my concentration is competing with the thick smoggy haze, blaring music and general chaos of the city. What is this city, you may ask. Oh yea, we're in BANGKOK! Yes, we made it. And the trip over went as well as raffi and I had planned. Somehow we met in the Tokyo airport after looonnngggg separate flights over. We've both been through long ordeal with Greyhound buses so having a long time to sit that included meals, pillows, movies and cleanliness made it seem like cake.

Regardless, after Japan we basked in the fact that we were actually at the point of no return and in the inauguration of a trip that many were skeptical of in the first place. And the use of the word "skeptical" is a nice way say it. After arriving in the Bangkok International Airport we thought everything would be as smooth as a hot nice through butter but quickly turned out to be as rough as a sandpaper massage. Putting the bicycles together in the terminal afforded us the opportunity to get to know the night security men of the airport because it took hours to put our cycles together. Literally. Things on my bike went completely wrong and thankfully the knowledge that Raffi know wields about bicycles is as sharp as a samurai sword and with total patience he not only attended to the problems but taught me a bunch about maintenance as well.

I know that we were going to have rough times. We agreed that some days were going to be miserably bad. We just didn't know that that day was going to be day #1. Yes, already, we've been robbed. Laugh it up. We are....now. It wasn't fun to lose an amount that I am embarrassed to share but we were victims of a well-practiced and definitely successful scheme. In short, at the train station to Central Bangkok there was a distraction made while getting tickets, some suave guys got in pretty close and, yoink, money was gone. Didn't realize it until we were already on the train.

But you know, that just happens. You are not your bank account. This trip is about much more than money. It's a meditation on knowledge and even on day 2 we're already feeling the effects of a cultural transition. True, we're on the most Western street in the city just to be around English speakers while we get oriented, but even this street, Khao San Road, is unlike anything either of us has seen. The people are so nice and accommodating. Conversation is strained at times but it's great to be a part of a linguistic exchange. The fashion is so much more unique here than America as well as the general physical build of the people. To put it nicely, I can clearly see the effects of McDonald's on the American population.

There's so much I'd love to write about that I can't without making this first entry into a tome. Every minute brings about something more amazing than the last. The wats (temples), the restaurants, the flora and fauna. Everything is very very similar to what I know, but with it's own unique twist which makes the city fall into this eerie limbo where all is familiar but completely new at the same time. I love it. I refuse to bore you with the plotline of what we've been doing so you should all just know that we're doing well, having a wonderful time taking in the hustle and bustle of a over-populated metropolis. And as great as this has been we're both crackling with excitement when we think about getting out of here and to the less congested areas of this beautiful place. Please, check out our pictures (we promise to take more once we stop gawking ourselves) although they do not do justice to the amazement of our locale. There will be more entries when we get the chance so stick with us as we ride. Until then!

-Jacob

Contrite in San Francisco

2005-06-01T20:45:00.000-04:00

Whoa,

I haven't updated this blog in FOREVER. I feel pretty awful about that after catching some flak from my uncle. I will catch you all up on as much as I can right now, and I am pleased to announce that as of tomorrow, Tour for Equality will no longer be a solo journey; I am meeting Jacob in the Tokyo airport for a connecting flight to Thailand. Jacob, I am again pleased to say, is more conscientious than I, and we should have no trouble keeping the blog up to date. Also he is a better writer.
Anyhow, it is June 1, and we leave tomorrow. I've got a whole adventure to tell, the one that took me from Silver City to San Francisco (or the Silver City to the Golden State) and almost no time to do it. So forgive me if the blog feels a bit excerpted--I will do my best. Again, a huge thanks to all of you readers and especially those of you who have contacted me during the trip. Your correspondence makes everything easier.

April 29 Silver City

I am exhausted, but I will enter tonight b/c it was perfect and I expect tomorrow to be fun too. I have been staying at the home of two wonderful girls: Jesse and Alli. Alli and I hung out today with her friends Josiah and Tracy. I had a great time (I seem to be having a great time with everyone that I meet) and then they decided to go to the hot springs. I have been wanting to go to the springs ever since I got picked up by Whitney and Matthew on that mountain pass, who were on their way to the springs and invited me but I had to turn them down b/c it was too far away and I'd have never been able to ride back.
So we drove out there tonight and it was gorgeous. Crystal clear skies filled with stars, a view circumscribed by mountains and the steam of the pools. I'm relaxing in the dark and suddenly I realize that the person that I'm talking to (it's dark) is Whitney from a week before. Serendipity over and over and good will and kindness in New Mexico. Too many gifts and people to mention. I feel like a traveler that is suddenly home among people that love me. Generosity and good fortune in abundance. Like a fairy tale.Tomorrow morning I marshall ina bike race.

May 3 Phoenix, AZ

It has been too long since I've written and it is somewhat because of laziness, but more because writing is a replacement for companionship and I have not been lacking companionship at all for the last few days.
Silver City is simply a fantastic town filled with fantastic people. All the young people that I met there wre kind, friendly and interesting. NBearly all of them are not from silver. They hail from OR, KS, CO, IA, and ME. Most of them have taken alternative paths in life. They are motivated and smart, but they didn't get internships, they hitch-hiked across the US. Many were homeless. It is a town full of real people doing real things; people are not caught up in the silly sham of trying to be successful. They make their own standards there. Perhaps I am overstating the case, but you really should see it. Specific thanks goes to Alli an dJesse, Abie Grooms, Jesse Bell, Dave JAck and Mike at Gila Hike 'n Bike, Josiah, Tracy, Idi, Rick, Skippy, Hannah.
I stayed in Silver City for two reasons. One was that I loved it there, the second is that I couldn't bear the thought of riding away. I have had a very hard time with the altitude. I get winded even riding down flat streets. It is incredibly hard and each day I thought that it would get better. It didn't. The riding has been grueling and intense and I don't even want to talk about it.

Santa Cruz

2005-05-17T21:07:00.000-04:00

Whoa--

Way late on this update and I am embarassed to have let down those of you that read this. I am being totally upfront when I say that I have simply not had internet access, and if I have had it it has never been for more than 10 minutes. Such as now.

I will update this when I reach San Francisco, which will be in another week or so. A number of speaking engagements are planned there, and I will be happy to report on them. Until then, thank you for your patience, support, and emails. I will be in touch soon!

Silver City

2005-04-27T16:39:00.000-04:00

April 21 Austin

I have had a truly wonderful stay with Bechay and Andy and their children Mikaela and Sam. Becky is a terrific cook and makes everything from scratch and keeps quite a garden. I've never really known anyone to do that (either lack of awareness, will or competence) and it is both inspiring and enjoyable. More than the food though, I was appreciative of their hospitatlity. I stayed there for 3 nights and two days and never felt at all like a burden, which is difficult, given that I am a Polish Jew and we always feel like we are burdening people. I do not mean to say that other hosts have made me feel that way, but Becky and Andy are truly wonderful.
I will be getting to El Paso in 25 hours and I am not sure that I have enough stuff to read on the train to keep me occupied. I have found a place to crash for Shabbat, but none for Passover, which is sad.

April 22, El Paso 9 AM

I am going to make this brief, and then perhaps fill in more later--while I rest. Imagine, it is April 22 and the high temp will be 85 degrees for the whole week. The air here is so parched that my tongue dries out completely in about 30 seconds.
The train ride was really quite pleasant, especially because I was viewing the incredibly desolate and unforgiving landscape from the comfort of a speeding train. Endless hours and miles of desert. The scenery would change every few hours, from unbroken plains of sage and prickly pear to mountains and canyons. From red rocks to brown rocks. It was as if several deserts had been placed side by side to fill up the void of West Texas. Endlessness.
El Paso begins the second phase of the US trip, one that will challenge me in the extreme. It will be incredibly hot from here to San Diego (about 1,000 miles) and absolutely and totally mountainous. I have the elevation charts and let me say simply that if I am able to ride this route then it will be an accomplishment that will amaze me and fill me with pride. I am sure that people would feel the same about simply doing this bike trip, but this is just a way of life. Riding over these mountains will be a brutal act of will. Today and tomorrow should be relatively flat which will allow me to acclimate to weather and elevation.
Oh, and to dispel a certain myth for people that may read this.People will often say in regards to the mountains, "Well, at least you're going down half the time." Bullshit. You go down about 1/5 of the time b/c it takes so long to go up. Also, the whole trip down is spent catching breath and looking at the new hill in front of you. I am at 4000' and climbing up to 8000' where catching my breath will be no certain thing.

Lunch, La Mesa New Mexico (New Mexico!!!)
The ride so far has been interesting. The aridity out here is quite pleasant but quite deceptive. I was totally unaware that I had been sweating until I looked at my arm and saw that they were white with salt crystals. I will be very careful to stay hydrated, though it is always a heavy burden to carry water.
The people out here are nice, and almost entirely Mexican. It is funny and sort of sad that this is part of the US when it was stolen from Mexico and is still basically Mexican. But the Mexican Americans who I've asked are happy that it is America because there is more money here, and that makes sense. Flat riding and pretty agricultural landscape.

Night, Los Cruces, NM
Tonight is one of those wildly lucky nights. I am not sure what I did to deserve such beneficence, I wonder if there can be an adequate explanation or if I should leave it to the indeterminate and mystical topic of trail karma. Again, I will simply log the day, as it happened, until this very moment of my pen dragging across this page, and leave the story to reveal its own magic.
First, I got called by the rabbi here who, at the last minute, was able to find some people for me to crash with. The weather was great today and the 85 degree heat feels like the 70's when combined with the aridity. I got a flat today and repaired it, but I discovered that my tires were filled with small chunks of glass. I need some kind of Kevlar tires or inserts, because the tires that came with this bike are so soft that they are shredded by the road.
I went to the synagogue and sink showered, which was actually really nice and refreshing. I talked to the rabbi--who is a great guy. He was regretful that he couldn't find me a seder for Passover, and I was disappointed myself, but he helped me get a box of matzah so that I could make a little seder in my tent. I was going to have to find an egg to boil, and all that other stuff, and it made me miss home pretty bad. A seder, for those of you who don't know, is a lot like Thanksgiving. There is history and ritual and philosophical insights, but it is also a really nice big meal that you eat with family.
I met Mel and Dia who agreed to put me up for the night. I am beginning to like them a lot. They are both interesting and free spirits and generous. I spoke at the synagogue, doing my presentation, and it went very well. One woman even came up and gave me $20 (April 28: I used that $20 today to buy groceries. Thank you!). I am pretty exhausted, so I will summarize. People were really into what I did, treated me like a king, and I got invited to a home for a seder tomorrow night, where I can also crash. Dia and Mel bought a house next door to where they live, and I can have the run of it. There was a delicious meal after services, and the women who prepared it bagged some for me to take home. So: only a few hours ago I thought that I had no place to spend the night if I wanted to be in Los Cruces except for, say, behind some buildings. Instead: a beautiful warm night, clean, resting, and a house all to myself which is conveniently across from a gas station so I am enjoying a cold beer. Tomorrow is a day off, and then Dia will take me over to another house for seder and sleep. I am perfectly content, perfectly happy.

April 23, Los Cruces
A dat to pur all others to shame--if I weren't on a trip (already) of such wonderful days. Agains, my good fortune is simply astonishing. This string of superlatives, in terms of days and people and hosts, is of supreme felicity to me. But--I have grown a bit concerned--as I prepare to log the actions of two new truly exemplary people--that my use of the superlative has become mundane, that it no longer signifies (i.e. it no longer dows justice to these wonderful people that I meet). I want to deal with this issue right now, because it is misleading. Damn it, I am a cynic, not a yokel! I know a good person and a bad person when I see one, and I do not say that nearly everyone I meet is wonderful simply because I have a shrivelled vocabulary. I say it because it is a shrivelled language. English is not accustomed to distinguishing these people whom I have met through the weeks, so abundantly blessed in kindness and generosity. From all walks of life, these people have taken me in and given freely of themselves and each one has been a tonic and a blessing.

That said (whew!) Kia and Mel belong in this class of people with a deep and refined sense of generosity and morality. This morning I woke to a delicious cup of green tea from Kia and (to make a short story out of an amazing day) they offered to take me off-roading in their Suzuki.
We drove out to the edge of town and then into the mountains. I had a TERRIFIC time!! The deser is in full bloom and the cacti and creosote and agave and everything else are blooming and beautiful. Met let me drive (my second time on a stickshift) and I off-roaded. It was simply stunning--the views and euphoria of the moments.
Then we rode down into a little wash and shot guns; this was my first time shooting. It was a blast. It turns out that I am a really good shot, for a beginner, at least with a .22 . I also shot a .38 and that was loud and satisfying. I am not, of course, a gun nut all of a sudden, and I understand the problems with guns and gun ownership, but I can understand the attachment and dedications that many upright and responsible gun owners feel and their commitment to holding their rights.
Kia and Mel showed me the time of my life.
Kia and Mel got ready for their seder and Kia took me across town to the home of Elliott and Lisa Willman. Again, a terrific time with the Willman's. It was so familiar and warming to spend the seder with a family, and the Willmans were not only perfect hosts, but they dropped into my life at JUST the right time to help me figure out which loans I need to apply for for NYU law. I am greatly indebted to them for their food, their home, their expertise, and their total good will and generosity with their praise, encouragement, and time.

April 24, Caballo state park, NM

Oh I have been robbed. Robbed badly. Tonight was to be my night, this was to be the very journal entry, where I could bitch and moan. Yes, things have been going great lately, and yes, it was an excercise in language to distinguish and parse such happiness, and yes, the shit was bound to hit the fan. And did it ever. Today sucked. But even as I rode through wind so intense as to be incredible, and miserable, and laughable, and horrible, and unremitting unrelenting and overwhelming, I formed the phonemes in my mind, rolled the phrases on my tongue, and worked out the metaphors to at least be able to log this hardship in my journal, and to share with you a situation that is totally unknown to those people who live East of Texas. I am telling you tha tI had it all worked out in my head, the simple images that convey the whole experience: like seeing what I thought was tubleweed blow across the road only to realize that it was a shrub, ripped out of the ground and tumbling end over end like a baggie in New York. I had formed elegant aphorisms on exhaustion and my struggle to ride 10 mph. But, like I said, I've been robbed.
I was robbed by Ojuardo. Ojuardo is a Mexican guy I met as I was jsust finsishing this exhausting, grueling day. He met me and basically turned this into a great evening, so much so that I really can't be anything but happy. It is a small gripe, I know, but I had been waiting all day to wallow in misery, in fact I had come to relish the prospect. Now I cannot.
After riding for over 4 hours and making about 55 miles, I knew that I was withing range of a state park. I was exhausted and needed a break before I could finish the ride and near Arrey, NM there was a gas station/grocery/hardware store where I got a pop. It was getting late so I hurried, asking the cashier about the nearest park. She couldn't help and most everybody in the place only spoke Spanish. Resigned, I headed out to the parking lot and tooka final stab at it with a Mexican in a Ford truck. "Do you know how far it is to the nearest state park?" I asked. In English so broken that pieces were mission, Ojuardo told me that it was a mile away and asked if I wanted a ride. Unable to believe my luck I jumped in.
Once in the truck, Ojuardo asked if I drank. I said yes and he stopped and bought two 6 packs. We got the beer and he took off. He took me to Caballo st. park which is 4 miles further down than the one I'dve gone to. It sits along a damn where the Rio Grande is made into a lake. Even as I write this Iam sitting on the edge of the Rio Grande.
Ojuardo barely can communicate in English, in fact he can't. He is a gentle man and kept inviting me back into the truck to drink with him. I suspected, briefly, that he was going to make a pass at me, in fact I was sure of it. I am no homophobe, but I expected it and it has happened before. I was totally worng. He just wanted to sit and talk, or at least, just sit. He is a gentle guy who struck me in a particular way.
For anhour we sat and drank, but I eventually told hime that I needed to go to sleep. I showered, which was great, ate a delicious London Broil prepared by the Willmans, and had some beers. Now I am in the tent, under a clear and starry sky. I am clean, happy, and totally devoid of the day's angst. Ojuardo, despite the fact that we couldn't really talk) made the day great just bytaking me that last 5 miles to this park. Now I am half drunk, clean, full and about to jam on the 'monica. Tomorrow is the beginning of the Climb.

April 25, 9:00 AM

I spoke too soon, it appears, about my friend Ojuardo. Now you will recall how I ended last night in the journal. Here is how it really ended.
In the middlw of the night I realized that the sleeping bag was totally soaked with water. I popped awake, real quick, because that is the type of thing that one must attend to. It was not raining, so I stepped out of the tent to see what was going on--and sank my wool-socked foot into 3'' of mud. My bags in the same muck. I got them out but couldn't find the source of the water, tossed my H20 bottles to the side, dried my tent as best I could and went back to sleep. It was probably in the 30s or 40s last night and was DAMN cold.
At some point, maybe an hour or two later (3:00 Am?) I hear "Senior, senior". I grabbed my knife (THANK YOU BENCHMADE!!!!) and tensed. I was pretty terrified as there was no one else around and I knew that someone was coming towards my tent. "Ojuardo?" I called.
"Si, si," he replied. I open up my tent, soaked and shivering, and Ojuardo walks up with a glass of rum and tries to offer it to me.
"No, Ojuardo, I must sleep" I said. My hand is firmly on the knife and I am wondering what is going on, and how best to jump out of the tent and defend myself. At the same time I am again thinking that he is going to make a pass at me and needed to get drunk to it.
In shattered English, Ojuardo explains, "You have pretty legs. You are beautiful." Oh shit, I'm right. I tell him that I am not gay. He is at first apologetic, and I am hopeful that he will leave. But he insists on staying, begging me to allow him to sleep against the tent. I tell him that he may not, that he must go home. He whines and begs, "No, please. Let me stay, please, I stay two more hours". Again and again I say no. "Go home."
We finally agreed that he could stay for five more minutes. I spend the time shivering, cold and wet, and preventing him from touching me (which he was trying to do). Eventually he left and I went back to a restless sleep and woke to the freezing air.
I put all of my stuff up to dry. It turns out that in the entire park I have picked the only space where there is both underground irrigation and a leak. Let me explain the odds: There are 125 trees on a two mile stretch of the park, at each tree the water feeds it under ground. I chose, from a huge lot, to camp under one of these trees. Further, I chose to camp down slope from it. Further, I picked the only tree with a leaking pipe. Further, they only water these trees one night a week and I picked that night. From the air you would see a huge park, several square miles, with one 10' puddle. My tent is in the middle of that puddle.

April 25 Hillsboro, NM

I am not having very much fun. The bike feels incredibly heavy, and I have lost my will. I am up at 5000' aand spent the whole day crossing from the Caballo Mountains to the Black Mountains across a great, flattish valley. It is quite painful to watch the vast and distant mountains. They appear never to move except when they are suddenly closer: their outlines are no longer so hazy and I begin the ascent into the foothills.
These foothills, which seem so small from a distance suddenly become implacable, overwhelming adversaries. They buck the the tiny road up and over and around the indiscriminate bends of their hips.
Also, my camera batteries died and I bought new ones which didn't work and now I got some new ones that do and that's $8 for batteries, for god's sake, and I missed lots of pictures and I realize that I am whining and that is depressing too. I think that it is just b/c the riding is so hard at this elevation and I am discouraged by how far I've gone for how much effort.

April 26, outside Kingston, NM in public campground

Well, I made it an amazing 31 miles yesterday. There wasn't even that much uphill, or as much as I expected. But I simply could barely move. I was pretty positive that it was a bicycle problem, but when I stopped for the night and checked the bike I could not find anything that would account for my slowness. Still, I found that the bike could hardly even coast downhill, it slows so. Something is wrong and I haven't the leisure or space to sit and figure it all out.
It is damn cold out here. I felt like I was freezing all night in the tent--so cold!!! (turns out it was in the 30's)

Today I must make it 10 miles, up over the pass. The next problem is that the damn rear brakes are faulty...I will try to make it to Silver City today, 49 miles from here, where there is a Wal-Mart and I can buy some warmer clothes.
I will make some oatmeal now, which takes a damn long time at 7000'. I left a tent stake at the campground yesterday. I keep losing things despite my best efforts, and everything that I lose I suffer for, as I took it because I needed it.

---- blog entry at 3pm:

Hi everybody. I'm in Silver City right now, at a public library, and I haven't got the time or the energy to update my blog. So I will take things out of sequence a bit and just tell you how I am doing today. In fact, I'll make this brief, because I am tired, feeling a little down, and the library will be closing soon.First I want everyone that reads this (most especially the ones that write me emails or comments) to know that it is a huge boost for me to see those comments. The trip has reached a point where I am basically tired, lonesome, and wishing that there was a "Go Home" button so that I could be back in easier surrounding. The mountains of the Gila wilderness is not what anyone would call "easy surroundings". There is a lot to say about that, especially about an unforgettable and funny (in retrospect) story about me protecting my virtue from Ojuardo. Let me simply say that today was spent entirely in the mountains with probably 6-8 pounds of water weighing me down and little motivation to keep going.When the sun is shining it is really warm, but the minute it goes behind the clouds it is chilly. Because I lost my great long-sleeve shirt, that means that I constantly have to change. Today I was riding in my t-shirt (jersey) and all of a sudden in got cloudy. Rain drops started to come down, and I was shocked to see that these drops were a mix of hail and slush. So I stood, tired and unhappy, on the side of a mountain road, with my rain gear on and facing away from the wind. It went on for about 20 crappy minutes and then a car pulled up with two travelers who are going across the country, back and forth, and camping along the way. They picked me up and took me into Silver City, and that it just great luck to be picked up by good souls, and I am still not even motivated. I forked over $40 to stay in a motel, which was way too much cash for me to be spending, and I am sort of disgusted at myself for the luxury of it, but the last two nights have seen weather in the 30's and I have not been sleeping well.The long and the short of it is that these days are hard, and getting harder, and I still have over a month of riding, nearly all of it over hills and mountains. And the greatest feeling that I've gotten in this whole sort of crappy saga of the last three days, is when I get to a computer and see that there are people pulling for me. Thank you.Also, I want to thank my sponsors. Jannd and Shimano have been huge lately, and if it wasn't for my Benchmade knife, I would've quit this trip after my run-in with Ojuardo. You'll have to wait to hear that whole story. Anyways, thanks to my sponsors and a great big thanks to my supporters.

------------8:00 PM
A day amazing for its wild swings. Today, despite several really nice things, was a low point, a sign that I am running out of steam. I even looked on the net for the nearest Greyhound or Amtrak, only to discover (which is for the best) that I have to get to Phoenix to catch the G-hound and even further for the Amtrak. It was a day of lonliness and feeling ineffectual. I walked the bike as often as I rode it and I barely made a few miles. Most everything else was a ride.
After I left the blog above I visited the bike shop: GILA HIKE & BIKE and the whole day changed. The people at the shop were great. They offered me help and a pop and I looked at the pop and realized that it was one of those good kinds, like cranberry ginseng. I asked where he got it and it turns out that Silver City has a food co-op. Also book stores and cafes, and restaurants.
I am at a laundromat right now and cleaning my stanky clothes, and then I have been invited to a party. More later.

Austin

2005-04-19T12:59:00.000-04:00

Hey everyone,

I am sorry that it has taken me so long to get this blog up to speed, but copying from my journal onto the web is more than a little bit like transcribing from a tape of one's own voice: it is awkward, embarassing and tedious. BUT-I have gotten some feedback (THANK YOU!!) from people who read this blog and that is a huge boost for me and it gives me the energy to continue.
You are all encouraged to comment on this blog, and while there is the little button at the bottom for comments, I will try to find a way for you all to leave comments on the front of the blog itself. This is as much your trip as it is mine.
Also, I want to donate this entry to Becky and Andy, and their children Sam and Mikaela-with whom I am currently crashing (and devouring their food). Thank you for the food and bed and R&R to be able to work on this blog!

I think that the blog last left off on April 11, so I will take it from there:

April 11 Jennings, LA

Well it is 12:30 PM and I am at the hotel still. Not even a drop of rain last night, which is immensely frustrating because I just spent $45 which now means less food, or some other kind of restriction. The weather channel (how do they keep their credibility?) says that the storm is 30 miles west and headed due east. I would stay and wait for it to come and go, but I have waited long enough. No doubt I will get wailed on in about 2 hours, but there is no helping it. I am desperately hoping to find a place to put up a tent tonight that is not a muddy wreck.
Otherwise it promises to be a nice week. Morgan was going to come out to Houston to visit, but flights are really expensive and that is pretty much that.
I had more problems with flat tires yesterday. My tire got another valve leak, and the new tube that I got in New Orleans (given for free by GNO cycles-Thanks!!) turned out to be a schraeder valve, not presta, so I couldn't use it. I used the tube that I've carried since Cincy, which is the wrong size but will work, but that ended up needing patching as well. Regardless, I was able to eat a long, delicious meal, jam for an hour on the harmonica, and still cruise 95 miles before dark. That's pretty amazing given my abilities in the beginning of the trip and I think that I can now safely say that I am about at my optimal level of fitness.
-----0-----0-----0-----
Promptly, before even leaving the hotel lot, waylaid by another damn flat. No rain yet. Surprising.
------
Oh god, after just setting down my journal (after fixing the flat) I see that the tire has flattened again. Aaaaargh!
------
Got a ride to bicycle shop in Lake Charles, LA from Floyd Babodeaux (a "real Cajun", he says). Really nice guy. Drove me right to the bike shop and told me about growing up in the area, about rice farming, and how South LA has changed. On the drive we passed through the storm. It was powerful for a few minutes and then gone. It was basically a line of clouds and I am still upset that I put so much money into weather hearsay.
Now I'm at the shop getting new tubes, patches, and my brake cable checked out to see if it helps the problems on my brakes.
-----
8:27 Sam Houston St. Park, Moss Bluff, LA

Wow, another day of pure magic. This was a day that, by any reasonable account should have ended shittily and miserably. Instead I am in a terrific place and my only regret is the money that I have poured into the bike and hotel.
I went to get the spares and ended up putting $37 into a new set of brakes. The adjustment barrel on mine was stripped and I know that that is not my fault because it was a new bike and I had never needed to adjust the brakes. Buyer's beware: Trek is just a name. The quality is gone. Having the bike worked on was an interesting experience because the guy working on it was not a better mechanic than I, and ended up messing some things up. Everything got straightened out by the better mechanics (who are far more skillful than me) but it was interesting to realize that my competence has grown to the point that I can now pass judgement on the 'professionals'.
I took till 5:00 PM to get the repairs done and I still did not know where I was going to spend the night. A guy who works at the shop, but was not working that day but visiting, offered to give me a ride to this campground--which is a beautiful swamp campground, though the bugs are coming out.
He did more than that.
Allen Chance first stopped by a crawfish shack where his buddies work. They loaded me down with a huge bag of crawfish, corn and potatoes-about $15 worth. When we stopped at a grocery store so that I could get some groceries, he bought 4 lbs. of boudin sausage (Cajun food) and 2 bottles of water
He drove me to this campground (15 miles) where we ate a bit of sausage and then he left me with the sausage, water, and crawfish dinner. He is not rich, is a bit younger than me, he is just unbelievably generous and welcoming. Just a wonderful person. He also taught me a lot about Cajun culture, their food and lifestyles. It all sort of came alive as he talks about it. For instance, down here they don't eat meat with potatoes. They eat everything over rice. Anyhow, Allan basically volunteered to help me out, totally hooked me up with the food I most wanted to eat, bought me food that I was too ignorant to even know to want, and then drove off, never to see me again.
Now I am full, w/food for tomorrow, dry and happy.

April 12, Beaumont, Texas

Stiff headwind all day. Also I saw that the plastic casing on my new brakes is broken. No problem, I called Shimano and they are going to send me a new set. Hooray for Shimano- not only are they wonderful sponsors, but they back up their products and they care about quatily (compare to Trek!).
I am coming to understand this trip in terms of a new metaphor. Before it was oatmeal, now the act of riding is second nature and is sort of below my notice. It is simply what I do. Now I come to understand each day in terms of luck: good and bad. This morning I discovered that I had lost the cap to this pen (which is a great pen) and that can't be replaced. Bad luck, but only minor bad luck. Then the brakes. The thing is that every day I meet new people and deal with new events. These things always change. The only way to sort of understand it in terms of a continuity is whether things are good luck or bad.
I rode Highway 90 out to Toomey, LA where it dead ends at interstate 10. I had only to wait about 3 minutes before a truck driver offered me a ride over the interstate and back to a road I could travel. In fact, he took me all the way to Beaumont. In fact, he was also a racist and referred to MLK blvd. as 'dead nigger road'. This would seem to be bad luck (and in terms of the the state of our country and culture it is) but when he started in with that shit I started flipping through a yellow pages on the floor of the truck. It was a great thing becuase I saw that Beaumont has a synagogue, and when the guy dropped me off in the city, I called the synagogue and it turned out that I was only a few blocks away.
I asked the Rabbi (Rabbi Barbara Metzinger-henceforth Rabbi B) if they had a yard where I could pitch tent. My desire was to spend a night in a tent and get the hell out of Texas on the next train. I have no love for racists, and I have no love for the state as I am (gasp!) a full-on liberal (or at least a full-on liberal when compared to most Texans). Well, Rabbi B. took me around the beautiful synagogue, we had a great time, and then she sent me to the home of one of her congregants, Bruce Hoffer.
I just ate a delicious meal with Bruce and his wife Carey and their daughters (whose names I won't share not out of ignorance or disrespect, but because Bruce has a healthy sense of paranoia regarding his daughters' safety-he is an attorney that does criminal law). It was a delicious meal with bbq, potatoes, and venison sausage (Bruce is on the self described "short list of Jewish hunters"). They have a beautiful home, and Bruce is a really quirky and nice guy. I have met two criminal defense lawyers in the last four days (one at Tulane too) and both seem to be especially interesting and irreverent. This seems to make a lot of sense as neither seems to be motivated by putting offenders out on the street but by safeguarding the public's rights by preventing the police from having an easy time of it. I am reminded of a former teacher's maxim that "The easier the job of the police, the closer you are to living in a police state".
Anyhow, Bruce has been great. The Hoffers have a beautiful home, and they are intelligent and spunky.
In the morning I may well get a lift from the rabbi to Houston where I can catch a train to El Paso. I could ride to Galveston, but I really want to be on my way and it seems silly to pass up such a wonderful offer. Again, crazy luck. The rabbi is headed just where I need to go tomorrow and offered to help. Bad luck with the brakes and all, but I have also not ridden my bike hardly at all in 2 days, and I will end up 130 miles down the road. That means less food eaten for energy, and less expense!

April 13, Houston TX

This trip has taken a turn so unexpected and sublime that it is almost comical. How does a confluence of events (and personalities) happen so as to lift me from my situation, say, two days ago, and put me where I am now. It calls to mind the so-called butterfly effect.
I will tell it as simply as I can, because the sort of wonder at the step-by-step casually occuring causal chain emerges just from the facts.
So today I woke up and had a great breakfast. Toast with lox and cereal with Cracklin' Oat Bran which I haven't had since I was little and my dad realized that it was high in fat and also pretty expensive. Rabbi B led me to her home where we looked at her car. It was apparent to me that the bike would not fit in it and that I would probably have to ride to Houston (it turns out that there is no way to take a bike on the train from Beaumont). Then we realized that her bike rack is totally fixable, so rather than disassemble my bike, we mounted it neatly (and mounting my bike on a car is one of the most fun and exciting things that I do. Seriously. I also love to watch the spedometer when I am on a highway and we are flying along at 60 mph) and took off. Rabbi B spent most of the ride to Houston on the phone trying to set up a place for me to crash in the city.
We were running late, so she took me to a meeting of the Houston Rabbinic Association where we met the head of the Houston Hillel: the amazingly nice and generous Rabbi Kenny Weiss. To make a long story short, here is what Kenny provided:
1. An apartment above Hillel with bed, bathroom and shower and a private entrance w/key.
2. Entrance is through the Hillel, so they will not turn on the alarm for me so that I can come and go.
3. In the Hillel there are 3 kitchens, a pool table, big screen tv, high-speed internet
4. Bookshelves with intersting books and free t-shirts
5. Kenny had the Hillel staff take me out for a delicious dinner and then they took me shopping for groceries----which they paid for!
6. I can stay here for at least 4 days

Also, Rabbi B will be driving from Beaumont to Austin on Sat. and offered to come through Houston to give me a ride.

In Austin the director of the Texas Cycling Coalition can put me up indefinitely and persuade Amtrak to let me board a train without boxing my bike-a huge hassle.

Perfect!!!!

April 17 Houston

I have been sort of lazy re: the hournal but not too muchg has happened. Unbelievable kindness here at the Hillel. Never to be forgotten. Also met several nice people here at Rice and went out with a few of them. In particular, Holly (sorry Holly, forgot your last name) and her boyfriend Mr. Fuxan (sorry, boyfriend, forgot your first name!) were great and I had a great time hanging out with them.
I am leaving now and heading out to Austin. It has been too many days since I've ridden and I can't in good conscience get that ride from Rabbi M. There is a chance that I will run into an MS benefit ride that is also going to Austin from here, but not sure about that.

---evening, LaGrange, Texas 113 miles (new record)
Today may well have been the greatest day that I've ever spent travelling. Pure, uncut, unadulterated, industrial strength magic and luck. It strikes me as odd, that such luck can hold, given that each day I meet new people and circumstances. The steadiness of my luck would seem to suggest that some circumstance remains the same, but that is not true. It is as if I go to a new country every day, sink in my shovel and strike oil.
I am tired and ready to sleep, so I will, again, content myself merely to log (or blog) what has happened.
I left Rice at around 8:00 loaded down incredibly with food (probably my heaviest load to date). I rode for about 25 miles before I saw some evidence of the MS ride. I was wary of the ride, because they are unfriendly to 'rogue riders', those who do not register or donate but sort of tag along. So I passed by the first rest stop without slowing.
By the time I caught up to the next rest stop (actually the lunch stop) I had hit the body of the ride, not just the stragglers at the back. The body of the ride (or at least, a few thousand people towards the back) was awesome! Loads of free water, Gatorade, food and ice cream. I talked to some volunteers about my unease taking water, and stuff, given my 'rogue status'. They laughed and scoffed and gave me a wristband which pretty much makes me a full member of the whole ride.
I rode for the rest of the day as a member. This, by the way, is the largest benefit ride in the country. 13,000 riders for 180 miles.
It is a hilly ride, which is a first after hundreds of miles of lowland and the weather was beautiful. Sunny, a few clouds, upper 70s. The ride was just aewsome and it was even more awesome to be doing it with thousands of other people. There were people to talk to and sag wagons constantly patrolling the roads for people who needed a lift or help or water. Most of the riders here are with teams, corporations that pay to enter riders. All teams wear team jerseys. Most are in the oil industry: Halliburton, Shell, BP, Exxon Mobile, Teaco Chevron, local TX oil companies, Conoco Phillips. Everyone is friendly and happy and supportive and alive with positivity. I think that people were surprised to see a fully loaded cyclist and especially one that was moving really fast up the hills (I came in from the back so I passed the slower riders). But it was a tiring day and I had done more miles at the beginning than anyone else, so I slowed. I was carrying all that extra food, and I never got a chance to eat any of it. In fact, when one of the guys at a bike repair tent (at each rest stop) heard what I was doing, he handed me a bunch of energy packs that they sell, but for free.
I stopped to get a pic in abeautiful field and befriended a Tour Marshall from the Texaco Chevron (henceforth TC) team. She invited me to their tent tonight for food and sleep. After that I ended up riding with two truly wonderful guys: Bubba and Brian. Both introduced themselves as firemen, although it turns out that Brian is also a lawyer (he didn't tell me that till later). Brian and Bubba are two of those rare people who do what makes them happy instead of doing what they hate because they will make money and then think that the money will make them happy. I learned a lot from them, the way I always try to do when Imeet people who seem to have the gift of living life with an insider's understanding. They invited me to the EMS and Police cabins at the end of the day where they have showers, food, etc. It was too far away though (there is a shuttle, but I wanted to be in the main area). Boy am I glad I did.
I got to La Grange which is the overnight area at a fairgrounds. As I rode in there were people behind barricades cheering and yelling. People had been arriving for hours, but everyone supports everyone else and it is just a terrific vibe.
The fairgrounds are set up with tents from each team, depending on size of team (i.e. how much money they donated). I went to the info tent to find out where the TC team was and got picked up by the Houston Builder Team (HB) instead. They took me back to their tent, fed me and were just unbelievably nice. Just incredible. Supportive of my trip, generous, and great.
I went over to meet up with the EMS crew and had some budweisers (thank you again for your sponsorship, Bud) with them before they headed off. All of them are good guys too.
Then I headed back and stopped off at the TC tent.
Allow me to digress here for a moment. One of th emost difficult parts of a trip like this is, for me, the lack of human contact. I shake a lot of hands, but that is all and I am a pretty touchy feely guy. No backrubs after long days, no nuthin. I think of it often. Well, in the TC tent, in fact in most team tents, they had masseurs. I got the longest, most wonderful rub ever from Dora. Arms, legs, neck, back, butt, it was GREAT.
I went to a shower area and quickly washed and then ate again. The HB team had a great musician in their tent and I listented to him for a while. The I went back to the TC team and met their team leader, a super guy named Kiet. Kiet was really interested in the trip, was generous with his attention, and he even gave me a team jersey. This is one of the coolest gifts I've ever gotten, because I got to ride as a team member, and I will ride with it for at least several years and always remember this wonderful day. Also, jerseys are expensive and now we have a spare so we don't have to buy one for the Asia trip (though Ian or JAcob can wear another one, not this one).
Now I am lying on my sleeping bag in the HB tent with 13,000 other happy, exhausted cyclists. I have even more food now (got Clif bars) and new friends, riding companions (I really do love all of the people on the Houston Builder team), and a sense of total good fortune. Well, I did realize that I lost my Cateye headlight, which is a serious bummer.
I looked around today and realized that every other person in sight was wearing the same lycra/spandex/astronaut clothes as me. It was great, I do not look like a freak at all.

April 18, 5:30 AM
It is still dark but we are getting ready to head out. This is so much FUN!! Breakfast tacos, and hot coffee, and bagels and pastries, and energy bars and it was free and I didn't have to clean up afterwards (not that I littered, but I didn't cook it on my stove I mean). It is so nice to be with other cyclists. Everyone has similar concerns and interests and aches, and I don't deal with the same redundant and ill-informed questions, and I certainly don't get asked the odd and weirdly ubiquitous: "How does Lance Armstrong do that?" as if I knew or cared. Time to ride.

Lunch, Bastrop, TX

Well it turns out that Time to Go meant time to go stand in line for an hour, waiting for dawn. Still, it is probably worth it to get a good spot in line as it takes so long to get 13,000 people on the road.
It is cloudy now, with a few rain drops, but another pleasant day to ride. I am here at the lunch stop that is packed with cyclists and their bikes. Thousands of people in colorful jerseys and black lycra shorts, everyone super hungry. Pepsi, Subway, etc. have whole truckloads of food and a well-organized operation to get that food into us as fast as possible. This is truly a wonderful experience.
Texas, around here, is filled with beautiful wildflowers. I remember a similar profusion of wild colors in Colorado, but here the colors are far more complementary: coral, and purple and blues and yellows.

April 18, Austin TX
I was lucky enough to finish the ride with firefighter/JD Brian. Bubba had a wreck and got taken in by sag wagon, and we rode with a young man named Brandon who celebrated his 18th birthday yesterday by gutting it out over some truly steep hills without adequate gear or training. I was truly happy for him, and it is a hell of a way to turn 18.
Personally I had no trouble with the hills, hills that would've reduced me to a snivelling wreck one month ago. I am loaded with more weight now than then, but I am in my best shape, maybe ever. It certainly helped to be riding with other cyclists, not cars, and to have the police directing traffic and giving us seperate lanes.
Brian is a truly good guy and I am certain that we would be friends if I lived down here. As it is, I am sure that we will stay in touch.
I spent last night with, the previously mentioned, Becky, Andy, Mikaela, and Sam. They fed me an absolutely delicious meal, that I can barely remember except for its deliciousness, and then I passed out for 10 hours to wake up seemingly more exhausted. But I got up and I am now at the U of Texas campus (Hook 'em, horns) here in Austin. So far I am really impressed with this city, which is beautiful and has loads of small shops and interesting stores.
Before I forget: the ride into Austin was great. At the end of the trip, there were blocks of cheering people and a great big party w/free food for riders. I had beers with the firemen, again, and said my goodbyes to Brian.
Another observation: Brisket is super-cheap in Texas. A whole brisket can be bought at less than $1/pound. In the northeast, that same brisket will be at least $9/pound. Why is that?

Austin, April 19

This is I think the first time that I am blogging in real time. That's right, not transcribing.
I am taking it easy today, and relaxing before I roll down to San Antonio tomorrow. I have spent a nice day with Becky, and I am full and tired and happy--but itching to ride tomorrow. Last night I caught a terrific open mike at the U of T. Um, that's all.
Thanks to everyone for their comments on the blog and through email. It is wonderful to hear from all of you, and your comments keep me motivated.

All the best,
Raphael

Cincinnati Fundraiser

2005-04-16T13:31:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone,

My name is Jacob Richardson, the Vice-President of the Tour for Equality and this entry is coming from our headquarter city of Cincinnati, Ohio. So far you all have gotten to hear the exciting tales of President Parker as he's trekked his way across our Heartland running into all sorts of random strangers, most of whom have been more than accommodating to the well-being of Tour for Equality. For the past couple months I've been waiting for the right time to hopefully have something equally entertaining to write about that wouldn't be mundane with all the planning details that have been consuming a large part of the TFE members' days. I could tell you about all the talks with administration offices I've had, or about the new SE Asia book I've been researching lately or the color of typhoid fever oral pills. None of this is at all comparable to what Raffi's been facing from dusk-to-dawn and relaying to us in exquisite detail, until now.

Last night, at the very generous restaurant Mecklenburg Gardens, we held our first Cincinnati Fundraiser with friends from around the city. Since neither myself nor Ian have ever thrown a fundraiser party before it was quite stressful in the beginning wondering if people would show up, how the music would work out, how much fun everyone would have, etc. But once DJ Billy the Kid started pounding out some live PA tracks and supporters started showing up, all anxiety melted away by the simple fact that people actually do care about the cause and wanted to help.

So I guess I want to say a big "THANK YOU" to all of those who showed up and helped TFE come closer to reaching it's goals. I deeply appreciate the support and hope that you all had a fabulous time while being philanthropic. Special thanks to Bill for providing the music and our bartender, Ian. Without beer and beats we would've been in trouble. Hopefully last night's benefit was just the initial party to what will become bigger and better events. There's still plenty of time to raise funds and every dollar donated helps out immensely so don't expect us to stop now. This first party was a rousing success in just about every sense of the word, which only acts to add more momentum onto what's already there.

Thanks again, everyone.

-yak

Houston, Texas

2005-04-13T23:18:00.000-04:00

Whew, has it been forever or what since this old page got updated. I'm sorry about that to any of you that read this blog and think that I've been slacking. I have, I guess, but I have been good about writing in my journal just about every day, so I will again copy what has been going on. I would let you know how I'm doing right now, but this is about to me a major task to transcribe all of my writing, so I will just get down to business. I do not have time to get the whole blog updated, but I will take it up as far as I can and complete it in Austin.

April 1, Natchez MS

Well, I go tin yesterday after a pretty grueling ride on a beautiful day. I decided to reeward myself for finishing the Trace and got a motel room for $33 and a big BBQ dinner for about $16. Met a nice fellow at the BBQ who runs a b&b. If I'd be willing to spend another day in Natchez I can pitch in his backyard.
There is a lot going on in this town. Right now is spring pilgrimmage where several garden societies open up antebellum homes to the public. I got up this morning trying to decide if I should stay and see the homes or push on through. I rode back to the downtown--and I love it. Stopped at the library, and the librarians were wonderful to me (one is from Ohio).I updated the blog a bit there. Now I'm at Eula's hotel and restaurant for lunch. $9.50 buffet is currently being demolished by yours truly, helping after helping of good Suthen cookin': corn bread, pulled pork, fried chicken, catfish, okra, chicken and sausage gumbo, potatoes,iced tea, collard greens, etc.
This town is beautiful. It sits on the bluff high over the Mississippi and it was, indeed, the first settlement ever established on the Old Muddy. It has a very dark past though. Just four blocks from here is Forks in the Road, at one time the second largest slave market in the South. The site is in the middle of a very poor part of town and it is sad to realize how slow integration has been in parts of the South.
----
It has been another one of those magical days.
I will begin with last night, when I met James Gavette, the fellow at the BBQ joint. Well, after totally enjoying Natchez today (the librarian at the library shared some incredible personal stories with me-which was a great honor and illuminating and inspiring, also I just love the towns and its history and people) I rode to Chez Gavette to pitch. James tells me that he and Jewel, his wife are not sure about me pitching tent in their yard b/c it's gonna rain. Instead, they invite me to sleep in the house next door, which they bought and are fixing up to be another set of rooms for the b&b. They gave me keys so that I could still come and go, but the house is mine.
It is a mansion. Hardwood floors, huge windows, fifteen foot ceilings and great big doorways. In the morning I am invited over for breakfast and then James will take me to the cemetary; he is aghast that I hadn't planned on visiting it.
The kindness of people is stunning. People go out of their way to do small kindnesses as well as large. Most recent examples:
I went to a gourmet grocery store an hour ago, just looking, I have what I need. I decided to buy some expensive chocolate cherries and the owner gave them to me at a third of the price and wished me luck.
2 nights ago I camped at Rocky springs campground. The people in the site by mine, who are country folk, offered me to put my gear in their car and leave it unlocked so it wouldn't get wet. Now these are the exact people that my mom would be worried about abducting me, or abusing me, or stealing my gear. And I didn't put my gear in their car-because I didn't really need to and I don't know them. But they were really kind and this is the kind of kindness that people do all the time.
Anyways, I am in a beautiful home, with a beer and correspondence and ready to sleep well and then eat a real breakfast and go on a tour in the morning.
The bike trip is hard, at times grueling, but if I were not doing it then I could never have moments like this. And moments like this are pure magic.

April 2, Natchez
Well, the magic continues. I woke up this morning and had a great breakfast. James took me to the cemetary. It is a great big cemetary, and he took me to an amazing section--Jewish hill. There used to be a huge Jewish community here that, according to the movie at the visitor center, saved the city following the Civil War. Anyways, it was a moving and terrific experience.
After the cemetary, James took me on a driving tour of the whole town, pointing out everything or where things used to be. It was great. I had come to really appreciate this town and his help and generosity made my experience many times deeper. He also, it turns out, is PhD in Education with a very similar focus in Rhetoric. He invited me to stay another day and I decided to. Today has been beautiful and wonderful and I am watching Final Four bball right now.
Tomorrow I will try to make the 95 mile haul to Baton rouge. I am going to try to be on the road by 5:30 AM.

April 6, Baton Rouge.

I've been getting lazy with the journal. That's too bad. It is no real fun to write, but I imagine that this will be fun to read later.
On April 3 I rode in to Baton Rouge. I thoought at first that it would be a long, miserable day. It began quite hilly as I traced the bluffs on the River. Once I hit Louisiana I was able to buy beer. That, coupled with the 2.5 day break made the rest of the ride pretty comfortable. I flew along, astounded at my speed and ease. By the time I got to Emily Barbour's house (friend of friend-but now my friend too!) I had done 96.5 miles. I went out to get dinner, and when I got back I had ridden 116.5 miles. That makes me an official badass, as I did far more than 100 miles and my previous all time high was 80.
Emily is a wonderful person and I am astounded at how hard her job is and how well she handles it. She is a teacher in a local middle school for Teach for America.
On April 4 I went to her school to teach. The teaching went very well, and the teachers asked me back. I turned them down, with regret, because I taught at Boy's hope the next day and I needed the day hours to update the website and handle the tedious logicstical ends and concerns of Tour for Equality.

April 8 9:00 AM
Yesterday I rode from Baton Rouge to New Orleans, 88 miles. It was the first day of the trip that was truly flat, something that I had been hoping for since the beginning and expecting to reach since Tennessee (boy was I wrong). I was sad to leave BR, but happy to no longer be a burden. I received a package from home: a lighter sleeping bag, a Tour for Equality flag (made by my dad with a very ingenious little clamp system complete with spare parts and instructions) and my Benchmade knife. A word about this knife: it is the nicest knife I have ever seen and makes me feel like a little kid getting their first knife. It is so nice that I am basically sure that I am going to cut myself with the amount that I play with it. I think that of all the sponsors, that it the item most fun to have.
I used the Felice Kaufmann friend network again and called a professor at the Univ. of New Orleans. He put me in touch with his friends, a wonderful couple: Bill and Rich. Apparently their house is the only thing that has ever caused Felice's stoic husband Xavier to ever express outright jealousy. That house is where I am staying now.
The house is incredible. It is filled with beautiful art, tasteful decoration, and the bedrooms are spectacular. I have taken a picture of my bedroom to go on the site sometime, because it is that amazing. Stone tiled shower, mahogany doors and trim, Chinese screens, four-post bed, etc. I wish that I could take some pointers from them but it is clear that they are simply in a different league than me when it comes to taste.
But this felicitous evening almost didn't turn out this way. I rode hard all yesterday. By 3:00 I was just outside of New Oleans and about a half hour from their house. Now I should add that I bought a tire patch kit in Natchez, but not a new tube (my spare is the wrong size) and a new tube was apriority for New Orleans.
Well on the ride I kept on losing air in my rear tire. Either a slow leak or just the steady pounding of Louisiana's crappy roads. I stopped outside of N.O. to refill one last time, but I opened a hole in the valve--which cannot be patched. This type of hole is why people carry tubes-and not just patches-but recall that my spare was the wrong size.
Suddenly being just outside N.O/ meant a 3 hour walk into the city with a heavy bike on a hot day, and getting into some strangers' house long after dark.
Then I look across the street and see that my flat was in front of the headquarters for bus operations. I went in to get some instruction on how I could take the bike on the bus, and I was incredinbly lucky to have been by this base. Because to take a bike on the bus you need a bike pass. And to get one in the entire city of N.O you have to go to this very building to watch a short instructional video. I watched it, got my pass, and got a ride into the City. The bus driver called ahead to make sure that a bike shop would stay open for me, which it did. The magic seems to be continuing, which is kind of strange and I can't help but feel like something unpleasant is going to happen soon. A person can get inured to luck, but not misfortune.

2:30 PM
Yeah, yeah. Not that impressed. I'm at the French Quarter Festival and everything is overpriced. The music is good, but it seems mainly an opportunity for middle-class people to come out an get piss drunk. This might be fun if I didn't have my bike and bags with me. As it is, it is like being a homeless person with a shopping bag full of all my possesions--on the street. I can't really leave the bike anywhere where eI can't see it, and so I have to tow it through the crowds. Not fun. But it is beautiful here and I am proud to have made it to the end of the Mississippi.

April 9,
Yesterday ended really nicely. I went to Tulane's happy hour and met some people. It is hard to meet anyone my age on this trip, and harder still to hang out wtiht them. I got a chance to do that. Then I went to Tulane's Chabad House for dinner and services. The rabbi and his wife are both wonderful and I had a good time and a great meal. At dinner everyone wants ot hear about the trip, sometimes ALL about the trip. It is flattering, I guess, but this is the same conversation that I have with everyone, each day, and it was king of tedious that a leisurely evening become an occasion for me to retell ALL of the stories. I guess that it is a small price to pay for hospitatlity.
I am sitting in a Tulane dorm lounge right now, wher I crashed for the night. I have to fly for the next few days becasue Morgan is going to meet me on Friday in Houston. I am thrilled to have company, but concerned about making my way across all of Bayou Louisiana and 100 miles of Texas in 5.5 days.
Also I'm told that route 90, which is my road across the state, is littered with alligators, some basking in the center of the road. I keep asking people if this is going to be a problem, and they answer "Shouldn't be" or "Probably not". Not too reassuring. I wish that they realized that there is little room for error when on a bike. Oh, I also got the minidisc player in the mail (thanks Morgan!!!!) so I finally have some music to accompany on the trip.

5:30 PM Franklin, LA
Another great day. Well, let's call it good, the beautiful weather has become the norm.
I headed out of N.O w/o first crossing the river via ferry. Outside the city, the only bridge is apparently suicide for cyclists, who are strictly forbidden, and I realized that I'd have to go an hour out of my way just to get across the water. I stopped for a moment at the on-ramp for athe bridge kind of hoping that someone may stop, though people have not done that on this trip. Well, right away a truck pull sup and asks if I need a ride. They take me over the bridge, and then (as we were headed the same way) 30 miles down the road. I was giddy with happiness in the back of the truck. They basically saved me half a day of hard riding in about half an hour of sitting in a truck. Also that make it easier to get to Houston on time.
The ride today was great. I put in 70 miles. Route 90 has a speed limit of 70, but it was pretty quiet. I went over a bent nail and it punctured my tire in 4 places. That took a while to fix (oh, and there are fire ants that make that a problem). No alligators.
Having the md player made all the difference in the world. It is so nice to ride when there is music, and I often looked down to find that I was cruising at 21 mph.
I am now in the heart of Cajun country and it is crawfish season. I've heard people talking about it all day (it took hours of thinking before I realized that "Bald crawfish" is how it sounds when they say "Boiled crawfish"). I met a nice guy who stopped to help me with my tire who had two sacks, about 30 lbs. of live crawfish in his trunk.
I am now at a a wonderful restaurant.I got the seafood platter with all the good Cajun specialties: crawfish gumbo, crawfish etoiffe, frog legs, stuffed shrimp and crabs, etc. The food is delicious, but expensive. Still, when will I be down here again. I am crashing next door at a church.
I am tired, but full with a place to sleep, clean, and 20miles ahead of schedule. A good day.

April 10, Abieville, LA

Awoke this morning and got ready. It's Sunday and Church was swingin'. I took off down Hwy 90 and was shocked to find myself averaging 21 mph. That is about 4 HUGE mph faster that anything I've ever done. "Damn" I thought, "I'm in great shape. Well, it turns out that I had a major, gusting tailwind. When I turned off 90 in New Iberia, my speed dropped to 12 mph and I was riding even harder. A huge storm is supposedly on its way to this area, with tornadoes and all that. Still, I stopped at another cajun seafood place for lunch. First I sat outside, below the town bridge on a patch of grass, my feet dangling in the water. I played my harmonica, which I am finally beginning to get the hang of. It was the perfect picture of the South.

Evening:
Went 95 miles today. Spending the night in a Day's Inn because this storm is supposed to be gettin greal nasty. The wind is absolutely ferocious. The only time I've felt worse is when I rode into Hurricaine Jeanne in N Carolina.

In the Natchez Library

2005-04-01T17:44:00.000-05:00

I am in the Natchez library right now with four young ladies that impress me a great deal. I am going to let them say hi, and I cannot vouch for what they're going to say.

Hi! This is Joanna David! I think that Raphael is one of the coolest people I have ever! (even though he is a democrat!) But he isn't the coolest because I am! GO WOMEN!

Hello. This is Summer. What Raphael is doing is really awesome and it's one of the coolest things EVER! Support women's rights because one day I'm going to be one! So basically support me or else you suffer. But seriously it's cool that a man is supporting women! What a guy! Toodles, oodles, and noodles!

Hey guys and gals! I am Lissa McManus and I just wanted to say that I am supporting Rapael in what he is doing. He is a really amazing person, everybody should meet him! Anyways, I am about to interview him on his opinons on stem cell research, but only if he doesn't mind. Have a great day! Women are the greatest!

Natchez, MS

2005-04-01T13:37:00.000-05:00

I will keep this brief, because I am in a hurry.

I left Jason after that ride to Kosciusko as he headed out to the Delta. I have a feeling that we will be seeing each other again.

I headed on into Jackson, where I was prepared to sleep out back behind a synagogue. I stopped at the JAckson synagogue and it was already dark. I went inside to let the people know that I had gotten permission to pitch out there (I had) and not to be worried. Well, that was when my fantastic luck put me again in the company of an angel.
Carol Kossman was just leaving her place and she took me back to her house (carryine my bike in her van) and she fed me and gave me a room. Even the next day, I took off a day and spent it at her house while she went to work. Not only that (or the rest of the food that she gave me) but she helped me to get a teaching gig at a public high school in Jackson. So two days ago I taught at Forest Hills HS, in Myrtle JAckson's health class. The teaching went well, and I left afterwards and am now in Natchez, MS.
I had planned on blowing through this town, but it is amazing and cute and incredibly interesting historically, so I will stay here a full day.
Still, I do not want to let Carol off the hook that quickly. She is a wonderful and giving person, and I cannot believe that she was so willing to make her home available to me. I wish her all of the best, and that more people are not too cowed by fear-stories on the news to help out a wanderer that really needs a bed and some kindness. Thank you again, Carol.

Also, she made some wicked good grits and I would love to be able to share the recipe. Hopefully, I will get that from her and put the recipe up on this blog.

Speaking of the blog, I should be able to update in again in Baton Rouge in 3 days, where I have another two teaching appointments scheduled.

Resting in Jackson, Mississippi

2005-03-29T14:02:00.000-05:00

March 29

Well, the trip has wended its way down from Nashville, almost exclusively along a road called the Natchez Trace Parkway. This is a road that is 425 miles long and for its entirety is a National Park. A 425 mile long national park that is about 200 feet wide. It is a road from nowhere to nowhere, and there are no towns or homes along its route. It has almost no traffic at all, is beautiful and hilly and filled with animals, and has been my home for the last week. There is a great deal that I can say about the Trace, how the forests of pine and broadleaf trees have gone from barren sticks to just opening up their buds this week, and about the history of the Choctaw, Chickasaw, and Cherokee Indians who were forced from the area.
I won't. Both because I am still tired, have much to do today, and because I have a whole journal full of notes that I think is worth putting down, so that you can read about how the trip has been.

I will begin with the day I left Nashville:

March 23, 8 miles outside of Howenwald, TN

It gets hard not to speak in hyperbole about the wonderful and kind people that I meet. Peter Goodwin, Margaret Bean, and their daughter Jane were absolutely wonderful hosts. They fed me delicious food, which I devoured voraciously, a wing of their home, a computer to use, and tours around Nashville. I felt bad, eating as much as I did. It is almost as if I have some kind of a parasite that eats most of the food that I put in my mouth. No matter how much I eat, I can be hungry in 20 minutes. I will list what I ate for dinner my three nights there because it was that good:
night one: pasta with zuchinni and lamb meatballs (I would like to get the recipe for the meatballs, as they were incomparable)
night two: grilled chicken with mashed potatoes and wine
night three: burritos with about 10 sides

I was supposed to leave yesterday but there was a forecast for a huge-ass t-storm, so they invited me to stay for an extra day. Now that I am off the pressure of the itinerary I fell much better.
I left this morning from their place, once again laden with gifted food. Took West End Ave. to the Natchez Trace. This trace in incrdible. It is basically a highway from Nashville to Natchez, MS. Mostly the road is empty, and it is really hilly. I doubt that i was passed by 40 cars over the course of 7 hours.
The ride today was an ecstatically terrific one. Allow me to reiterate that I love Tennessee. I think that everything is better here.
My minidisc player broke so I was without music the whole time. There was also a moderate headwind, and it rained, fiarly hard, in the morning. I got soaked, and the way was quite hilly. It was also overcast and cool the whole day, as i was wet.
How then, could it be a good trip? I'm not sure, but I was happy and extremely positive the whole day. For one thing, I'm not lonely anymorel I think that my experience with Ella really brought me around to a wonderful place. I was simply happy to be riding. It is also, I think, a product of getting all of my prioritites in order. This trip is like a bowl of oatmeal with chunks of fruit in it. For the most part, it is oatmeal. That oatmeal corresponds to the riding, the fruit to the time off, the homes to stay at, and the people who are kind. At first, the oatmeal is a terrible struggle to get down, just to be able to get to that fruit. I have reached the point where the oatmeal is good in and of itself. It has a subtle, but nutritive goodness, and the riding is now fine on its own terms.
Also, the miles flew by today. I could've done 70, but I felt the twinges of fatigue at 65 and I stopped. Contrast that to utter exhaustion at 50. One factor was the mild grade, another was two days off, and another is that my body is coming around.
Stopped at a defunct private campground and the owner of the land said I could pitch for free. Things seem to be working out. Also, i had time to lounge for a bit before pitching, as opposed to a frantic, exhausted rush.

March 24 JP Coleman state park, MS

Well, this is one of the most beautiful nights I've ever spent outside, after one of the nicest days. There is a lot of 'log' stuff that I will enter, but the moment right now deserves capturing.
I am sitting at a picninc table on the shore of a beautiful little cove of the Pickwick Lake of the Tennessee River. 50 meters into the cove, two pine topped ridges drop like wings to make the cove, and beyond that the lake shines with the fantastically bright light of a full moon. The moon is so bright that I am writing this without a flashlight and the sun has long since set. it is also the warmest night of the trip after the warmest day. No wind-just...perfect.
Also, i have a pot of beans and salsa and tortillas in front of me, and I am with 3 wonderful guys from Georgia who will soon be starting a campfire. I just showered too. Basically, it is a night more perfect than any I could plan, and entirely beyond my expectations.
---
I began the ride today fairly stiff, but again in good spirits. Staying with Ella really did seem to knock the depression right out of me. I stopped about 11 milesin at a small convenient store and got some coffee, biscuits, and pancakes. As I left the place and climbed the ramp back up onto the trace, I saw two cyclists way up ahead. I pulled up and they turned out to be two guys from Georgia, Phil and Victor. These guys were in their first big ride of the season, a 2-day, 100-mile trip, which is astonishing given that Phil is in his later forties, and Victor is 57. We chatted briefly, and then I took off on my way. I stopped in Colinwood, TN for food and to fix a pesky wheel that keeps coming out of true. I haven't cooked yet on this trip, and it makes it hard to justify carrying all of that gear.
As I left Colinwood I ran into the guys again, as well as their third partner, Rod-who is Phil's dad. Rod is an incredible man who is spry and fit and agile and incredibly nice and he is also, I think, 72. He comes from that deep end of the gene pool where ageing seems to have little effect on phyiscal or mental fitness. Anyhow, we rode on together to Alabama. The day was gorgeous. It started overcast, like yesterday, but the clouds broke. soon I took off my running tights and wore just my jersey for the first time on the whole trip.
After about 65 miles, we crossed the great Tennessee River. Rod came and picked up our bikes in his truck and we drove to the campground where I am now writing this journal. In tthe morning we will go to rejoin the trace where we left it.
It is now 9:45, well past my bedtime, and I will go to sleep. I am so happy and content and well-provisioned for the moment. It feels almost as if I am in the middle of a well-planned weekend vacation when, in fact, this wonderful day has been sustained by pure and extraordinary luck.

March 25, about 50 meters off the trace in some woods:

This trip is something else. It is turning into a true adventure. I had forgotten what a real adventure felt like after my last trip ended and I reduced that experience (which this one is beginning to mirror) to mere words.
Last night was wonderful. We lay along the campfire on mats and chairs and talked. Those guys taught me how to go bullfrog-gigging (giggin') and turtle-giggin'. The pops were cold and sweet.
At night it rained, as if to show that it couldn't be perfect, but the morning dawned clear and warm. I decided to continue riding with the guys so I threw my bags in the truck and took off naked, so to speak.
We stopped at Hardees and got the big breakfast (they paid) and said grace, which seemed almost comical given that it was over such man-made food as opposed to God-given. But the sentiment was real, the company was great, and the food was filling.
To say that the day was perfect or beautiful would somehow underrepresent the day. We were drunk on the beauty of the morning, the ride, and the road. We would burst into shouts over the perfection of it all. We stopped periodically for shade and cool pops, or to read about the points of interest that fill the Trace.
The guys are an inspiration at their age. They are nice, gentle, generous and full of good humor and adventure. They hike and canoe and kayak and cycle, and are Republicans to boot. I didn't know that there are any Republicans that care about the outdoors, and it showed well for the GOP, as well as reflecting on the narrowness of my own experience and expectations.Simply wonderful guys to travel with and I'd love to ride with them again sometimes.
Too cut it short as it grows dark, we cut the ride short when they hit 100 miles, and we drove to Tupelo. I needed to get to a bike shop, andthey insisted on taking me. I had lost my spoke wrench, which is a damn shame b/c of my terrible wheel. they owner of the bike shop was real unfriendly, but he did mention that there were two guys doing much the same trip that I was.
I was shocked to hear that they had come in earlier that day.
I had heard about these two-brothers-when I left Cincy, because they left a day before me and went to the same bike shop I stopped in at the last minute before my trip. The guy at the shop ripped me off and also couldn't give me any good info on where these brpothers were or where they were headed. Well, as I was leaving the shop, one of the brothers went into the shop and then we met.
Apparently, he (Jason) is doing a similar route and his brother (Aaron) had to leave the next day to go back home. I asked Jason if he wanted to ride together and we agreed to try it. he seems likea really cool guy. He is a firefighter in Yosemite, and is headed that way, after going south. I have places to stay in Texas, so we have a reason to ride together.
I can't believe the fortuity of the situation. Had I gotten to the store later (or him) or not lost my wrench or anything else, we'd have passed each other but. He took a different route down here, and was going to take a different route from here, so this might have been our only chance to meet. Awesome.

March 26 in a shelter on Trace outside of Mathiston, MS

I wish that I could take a picture of my situation right now. Safe to say that it is the ideaal in an unideal situation (rain pouring down in buckets).
The ride today was great and intense. Jason and I left late, after I did some sink laundry at his motel. We hit the road by noon and I thought we'd only get in around 30 miles. We hauled ass. In the end I rode around 70 and in a LOT less time than usual. I don't know how much more time we have to ride together; it seems that we will split in Jackson (100 i.). Still we may meet again and it has been a real pleasure. We just ate a delicious meal that we cooked.
The ride was terrific. It was sunny and warm and the parkway empty. I wore long sleeves so as not to aggravate my burns. This is the perfect time of year. It is warm if not hot but the trees which line the Trace have just budded and it is still possible to see through them at the ridges and animals. In two weeks I will not be able to see the deer, turtles, turkeys, pheasants that I have.
Anyhow, we stopped in Mathiston to get groceries and saw the stormclouds rolling in. Forecast for 'damaging thunderstorms'. We got food and got back on the trace to look for a place to pitch.
All at once we saw one of the waypoints on the trace, but this one had a rood built over it. It provides about 40 square ffet of covered area, albeit right along the road. I will sleepo here tonight, dry and luxuriantly, with rain pouring all around.
It is amazing this luck of mine, where even a 'damaging downpour' finds me warm and dry with lots of space, a buddy, organic dates, and a full belly. I even have cellphone reception.

March 27, Kosciusko, MS

There is no other way to describe some rides than grueling. Physically exhausting, and very tough on the mind. There is no benefit to be gained by talking, or slacking-one must just get 'er done.
Today was obviously such a day (otherwise why bring it up). It was cool and drizzly all day. Jason and I woke in our shelter (which was visited in the night by some people who saw us and who worried us) and then we ditched the Trace to see some of MS. The ride was hilly and tough with terrible roads. We stopped in Ackerman, MS so that I could attend Easter services at a black gospel church (there are black churches and white ones-something that I have a hard time dealing with). That experience was terrific, just the sort that one would imagine. A lot of singing, clapping, praising, preaching, and fanning. A lot of 'Amens' and 'Thank you lords'.
I left after about an hour to meet Jason in a gas station/resturant. This by the way, is the model in nearly every town that we pass: the most popular restaurant is shared with the gas station. The food in this case was terrible, but Southern so at least it was regional. Creamed corn, potato salad, fried chicken, corn bread, peach cobbler and iced tea. Anyhow we killed time there waiting for the rain to clear. Finally we decided to head to Kosciusko (I am not Polish, but I know that no one hear pronounces the name right, they say Kah-Zee-Ess-Ko).
It is about 30 miles and it was HILLY, rainy, and windy. I think that it was one of the hardest rides I've ever done. It was good to be with Jason though. We don't complain and we both kepthatever talk we had to something that kept us moving forwards. That was nice. It's the right way to handle a challenge.
I have had continual rear-wheel trouble, and every day my wheel goes out of true. I end up riding against my brakes which makes even the most easy ride difficult. Finally we got in to a Day's Inn and I just showered and ate.
An observation: there are moments in the midst of the ride that seem to capture everything, that seem almost emblematic. One moment happened today (it has happened often, but I saw it happen to Jason and it looked so perfect that it finally rose to my awareness). It happens when one is riding into the wind and then all of a sudden a fierce crosswind hits from the side. Jason's bike caught the wind and it moved him a foot over but he caught himself, braced against it, and drove against the force of the wind. That movement, the catching of the bike and the steering of it into the relentless wind, is miserable but also just affirmed how badass we are, riding into the worst shit imaginable and keeping at it.

Resting in Nashville

2005-03-21T15:44:00.000-05:00

Well, it has been an eventful week. I am sitting right now in the home of Peter, Margaret and Jane Goodwin in Nashville--the family of a friend from New York. Today has been wonderfully lazy--sleeping in, checking email, calling people, and eating. I actually only slept till 6:00 am, as I am now fully on the sunrise/sunset timecycle, but I still spent a good two hours in bed reading some books that I no longer care to haul around with me for hundreds of miles.

This has been a really, really, REALLY intense week-basically because it is the beginning of the trip and there is a lot of stuff, both physical, mental, and logistical that has to fall into place. I want to tell you everything that has gone on, and give out the big thank you's where they are deserved-so I will revert to excerpting from my journal so you get a sense of my feelings as I experienced the trip.

March 17
Exhausting day. Hilly but with far milder weather than the last two days. Got up to about 51 degrees. I left LExington and got on route 68, which should take me most of the way to Nashville. The way was simply hilly, all ups and downs and pretty soon it feels like all ups because the downs are just spent catching my breath and looking at the approaching ups. Today also marked the beginning of the solo leg of the trip, which is a major challenge in my own ability to stay positive and motivated to undertake such a huge project while alone and exhausted.
I got to Harrodsburg, about 38 miles outside of Lexington and went to watch the Univ. of KY in the first game of the NCAA tournament. A fellow at the bar (called Rookie's-check out the pics on the pics page!) started chatting with me and soon invited me over to meet his friends. The fellow's name is Mark and I will be honest and say that he, and his friends, are rednecks. I say this with no judgement at all, because as they proved, rednecks can be some incredibly generous people (also-they describe themselves as rednecks). Anyhow, we all sat down for several hours of talking and drinking (Budweiser of course) and I just simply had a wonderful time. I spent probably too long at the bar, but the time spent was time well-spent, and as I left they gave me a wonderful bracelet which I am wearing now and will wear till the end of the trip. Many thanks to you: Mark and Brad and Jessica and Kelly!!!
I left the bar and headed 20 miles down the road, a few miles outside a tiny hamlet called Perryville, where I was overcome with exhaustion. I had bought some soup and gas for my stove, but I realized that I had no flame, and it was getting dark anyway, so I ate what cold soup I could stomach, pitched a tent in the corner of a farmer's field and passed right out.

March 18,

What a day. I have been through the worst of times and I have come out feeling a whole lot better. Last night I was really cold which was surprising because my sleeping bag is supposed to keep my feeling toasty into the thirties. Well, the temp must've been in the low twenties and when I got out of my tent everything was covered in frost so thick it broke into inch long chunks, and my water bottles had frozen solid. Anyways, I woke up late because I misjudged my alarm clock and was on the road by 9. I was already about 20 miles behind schedule due to the day before and I quickly became exhausted. I wanted to quit so badly, to give up and go home. But I can't. Too many people are relying on this, too many people have made donations of products, money, and time and support, and I have accepted all of those donations. Beyond that there is pride. I stopped the bike several times and tried to hitch rides with some of the many many pickup trucks that constantly fly by. No dice. I was surprised because I expected hitching a ride to be no problem, but I am a single male and the irrational fear of single male cyclists sitting in a truck cab has apparently penetrated the heart of America. Eventually I got a lift for 10 miles which still left me WAY off pace.
The terrain out here is incredibly hilly and challenging. I was so forlorn and sad that I don't even know how to express it. The weather was nice though, mild and dry-somewhere in the fifties-the warmest day yet this year. No phone reception anywhere, so no one to call and share my feelings with. Also, I was physically exhausted by mile 30 and I had expected to make something like 68 miles.
I started out of Greensburg, KY, determined to make another 10 miles before I camped. I was told that there was a safe place to camp at the base of a valley, along a river, which was nice except that it was supposed to rain that night. Still, it was a destination and I rode along a ridgeline waiting for the steep descent.
I saw a small general store and restaurant and stopped in to have a Ski, the Kentucky soft drink. I asked the fellas in there if there was a place that I could pitch my tent in the area, other than at the base of a valley (bad place when raining). The owner of the store, the kindest woman I have ever met, offered me the grassy patch behind the store. I gladly accepted. Then she offered me the barn to sleep in so that I wouldn't get wet. I gladly accepted. Then she offered to make me dinner and let me go back to her house and sleep there. I ecstatically accepted. The she got a guy (his name is Lloyd but he goes by "Man") to give me and my bicycle a ride in his pickup truck to her place, where she let me sleep in her bed while she slept on the couch! (Now I'm sure at this point that you think that I'm some sort of a jerk who would let her do all this for me and not offer to sleep on the floor, let alone the couch. But she preferred the couch and had friends coming over, and would not be swayed.) I spent the rest of the evening and the next morning with her children, Natalie and Nathan. In the morning she gave me a huge breakfast and food for the road, money for things and sent me on my way. The next day I had a phone call from her on my cell, letting me know that she was thinking about me. Let me say this and this alone (where pages would do): Ella, you have taught me something incredibly important and humbling about goodness and generosity and responsibility and devotion. You are a truly wonderful person and I thank you.

March 19,

Westmoreland, Tennessee

Today was absolutely exhausting, one of the hardest cycling days I have ever experienced. The entire route was not only grueling with its hills, but there was a strong headwind for THE ENTIRE DAY! That means that for every 3 hours I would ride, it was as if I had ridden for 2. Hour after hour of wind. It becomes hard not to take the wind personally, to personify it as some sort of evil force. I tried hitching rides again and to no avail. It is also hard not to take the drivers' indifference for cruel indifference. It was simply and utterly exhausting. In fact, if this day had happened yesterday, I don't know if I could've handled it. It was the emotional lift that I got at Ella's that allowed me to make it through today. I think that the worst of the emotional isolation is over, or at least the first wave of it.
Finally, at the very end of the day with sunset nigh, I crossed into Tennessee. Immeadiately the wind stopped, the road became well paved (at the exact border) and a wide shoulder began for cyclists as part of a state-wide bicycle route. I rode a couple of miles into this town, where I ate some dinner and am now in my tent in some young woman's backyard. I have a feeling that Tennessee is a good place and in retrospect I think that I hate Kentucky a little bit (except for the fine people that I met there). Once the wind stopped I realized that I was still going really slowly and I am pretty sure it is because my rear wheel isn't true and the brakes are rubbing the wheel. What an exhausting malfunction. Still, I have food in my belly now and I made it and I will fix it in the morning. A tough haul tomorrow, but then my first day off.
Oh, and I realized today that much of my depression and self-defeating thoughts on this trip stem from being so far behind schedule. That schedule was made while I was sitting behind a desk with a beer and couldn't tell if there were hills or not. In short, my itinerary is full of crap, and with the limited time that I have, I think that I will perhaps have to skip a section of the trip. I am very concerned about West Texas because it is unsafe for cyclists, and I think that I might just skip that section so that I have time for the rest of the ride.

March 20, Nashville
The best day of the trip beyond comparison. First off, never sought a ride from anyone. Secondly, only needed to go 40 some miles. Thirdly, the day began with aliteral seven mile descent, which was not followed by any major ascent. Fourthly, I jumpd back an hour in time zone so I got done early. Fifthly, Tennessee sells beer, which is nice to have at the end of a long day instead of more water. Sixthly, it was the most warm and sunny and beautiful day of 2005 with temps in the sixties. Seventhly, 2/3 of the trip was through developments and suburbs which was a real nice change from lonesome country roads and felt much more natural and exciting, given that I do most of my riding in Manhattan. Eighthly, I spoke to the owner of 3 shops and they were an Indian, Korean, and Coptic Egyptian. I didn't realize how much I missed diversity, but having some different viewpoints reminded me of being at home in Brooklyn more than anything else. Ninthly, I am at the home of Jill's dad and step-mom and it is only 4:12 and I am showered and resting and enjoying their beautiful home and they are making real, fresh dinner. Tenthly, TOMORROW IS MY DAY OFF!!!!!!!

The Ride has begun

2005-03-16T21:56:00.000-05:00

At last, at long last, the ride has begun. Unfortunately, I do not yet have the capacity to upload pictures, and I am sad to say that that will have to wait about a week until I reach Nashville, Tennessee.

Right now I am in Lexington, Kentucky and I just got finished teaching some students about social justice. It was another wonderful class and I am told that it was the best class they've had thus far. Granted, I am a shameless self-promoter, but that in fact was the common consensus. Anyways, I am the very fortunate guest at the home of Marilyn Robie and Art Shechet. I am lucky not just because of their generous hospitality, wonderful food, convenient location, or bathing facilities--I am also lucky because the temperature is going to be in the twenties tonight and I am coming down with a cold. I am worried about the next few nights, when I will be sleeping in my little tent, but there is nothing I can do to help it. Money is way too tight to be spent on motels.

Anyhow, after some frantic last minute issues, the ride began yesterday. One funny issue was that my new Trek bicycle-the model specifically made for touring-was defective. The eyelets that are used for screws to mount the racks had been drilled, but no threads we put in. So there was no way to attach my frame. Fortunately, I got someone to carve some threads into the holes.
Anyhow, my father and I set out and quickly passed from Cincinnati into Kentucky. We got onto KY state route 25 and made our way through miles of congested Northern Kentucky developments. It was quite cold out and, as you will see when the pics are loaded, we were bundled against the chill. Eventually the development petered out and we were soon in the countryside. Pretty routine riding, except for the cold. Rolling hills and medium traffic passing us the whole time. The pleasure of starting out the trip was more than anything else the pleasure of getting to ride a bicycle with my father and share the beginning of this project with him.
Eventually, my father's knee started acting up and we spent the night at a hotel in Dry Ridge. It was real nice to have a shower that first night, and the bed was good too. Too bad there won't me more of that luxury. Anyways, a good night.
When we woke this morning, his knee was in pretty bad shape and we had a really hard time making progress. My father is in great shape and is truly stubborn, so we got a lot further than I expected we would, though in the end his knee gave out. We caught a ride for the rest of the way to Lexington (it wasn't far, we're not cheating!) and from there he got picked up and taken back to Cincinnati. That is when I rode over to this wonderful, warm, beautiful and happy home.
I am exhausted now, and happy, and a little worried about what tomorrow will bring.

Getting ready...

2005-03-11T17:03:00.000-05:00

This website is overdue for an update! Last I wrote, I was feeding off a powerful, positive vibe that was making all of the hard work feel like it had paid off. That vibe culminated shortly after in an absolutely wonderful going-away party/fundraiser that we held at a bar in downtown Manhattan. Big thanks to Emily Marker for putting together the event and for Budweiser for making it so very fun.
I think that everyone who moves out of a city after five years should get to have a party thrown for them like that. Granted, there were other reasons for throwing it, but it was a wonderful way for me to say goodbye to New York.
I think that everyone had a good time, and I am deeply appreciative of everyone that came and made a contribution, large or small, to the project.

Two days later I headed to Ohio were the trip will begin. It is in Ohio that I am writing this blog, and with only three days before the journey begins. I spent the day teaching at Walnut Hills high school, yesterday, working with boys in the gym classes and talking about rape-prevention, violence and masculinity. I have another teaching appointment for Sunday evening.
All of the positive vibes have begun to wear off, now that the trip is looming and there is not only so much to be done, but so little money to do it with. This is the central struggle of the project now, and I am afraid that the trip, at least the portion in Asia, is endangered by our lack of funds. We have raised about $2,000, of which over a thousand was spent retouching our old bikes and paying for postage and printing fees. I just got vaccinated for Japanese Encephalitis yesterday and the vaccine cost $179. Considering that Jacob and Ian need that vaccine, and they also need to be vaccinated against typhoid, and hep A, as well as needing a three month supply of anti malaria drugs, we will be out of money before even buying our airline tickets.
All in all, it is a difficult time, now that we have seen the stark reality of our finances. All of our scrimping and begging has been, for the most part, not sufficient to pay for what we need. That is depressing. What is also depressing is that it has been snowing for the last few days here in Ohio, and it will not break 40 degrees by the time that the trip begins.
All of that said, the trip will begin, and at the very least, the US trip will end, as planned, in San Francisco. We have worked too hard, and we believe too strongly in our goal, to let it die. Still, it will be tough and, for now, quite cold.

Wonderful day

2005-03-01T23:28:00.000-05:00

Hey everybody,

I had a wonderful day today. In fact, the days have been getting progressively better over the laste week or so. The heavy lifting is mostly done, and Morgan Solem, our Director of Programming, is learning the day-to-day tasks so that she can run TFE when I am out on the road.
"What," you ask, "is so wonderful?" (you too are hungry for some happy news, having perhaps grown discouraged through past blogs or through having spoken with me in person over the last few months.)
"Aaah," I say, warming to the task. I stretch my back, crack my knuckles and splay my fingers, limbering them up for a digital renumeration of our most recent blessings.
1. We got a sponsor for our travel insurance in Asia. Big ups to Mike Gonser and www.1travelinsurance.com. It turns out that Mike is not only a generous sponsor but is a really genuine guy.
2. We got a sponsor from Park Tools. Park Tools is also really cool and appreciated.
3. Got a call from a school in Cincinnati. They heard about the trip and want me to come and teach. This, I should add, is special for a particular reason: apparently it is going to be nigh on impossible to get into schools without special invitations, as most public schools are now hyper-antagonistic to the idea of bringing strangers into schools. Legal liability and all that.
4. Speaking of legal liability, I got accepted to NYU law school. (This , my finger acknowledges with a shameful wag, is a selfish item)
5. Budweiser confirmed today that they will be giving us 20 cases (almost 500 bottles) of free beer for the fundraiser/going away party.
6. And now the good stuff:
I went to NYU yesterday to invite some people on the administration to the going-away party. The people there are wonderful, and they got very excited about the project. Not only did they send out an invite across the entire faculty and staff, but they hipped me to a very cool event that NYU is throwing this Sunday with Hillary Clinton. The event is called Beijing at 10, and it is about the progress that women have made around the globe in the 10 years sincec the Beijing conference.
Well, I am certainly not one to sit idly by and let the ideal situation pass, so I went to the NYU Global Affairs dept. in the Woolworth building in downtown Manhattan. While I am apparently too late to get involved in the conference, the director of the conference informed me that yesterday was the first day of the UN's Comission on the Status of Women. This is the 49th commission, it is an annual event, and it is being held at the UN. This year the focus is, of course, the anniversary of the Beijing Conference.
So today Morgan and I headed to the UN for a day of lectures and panels.
It was AMAZING. There were women there from everywhere. I mean that, about everywhere I mean. Ireland, Mexico, Tunisia, Afghanistan, Kazahkstan, Sudan, Cote d'Ivoire, South Africa, Switzerland, etc. They were amazing women, strong and outspoken and just cool. I will add, parenthetically in case you were wondering, that I am proud to be a man. I just happened to dig this vibe of women that care about each other and making the world safer for themselves and for the generations to come. They are doing the most amazing things. If it wasn't so late, I would list on the fingers that I have left some of the things that they are doing.
Anyhow, I was sitting in a room watching a panel on rural women and all of these amazing people started to talk about what kind of work they are doing to improve the lives of women. Now I realize that I am a small fish here in that this is a new organization and we do not serve any specific community. But I stood up to announce (I was one of two men in the room) that there are two areas that must be worked on in the struggle for equality and I was there because I know that men can be changed. I told them that in one week I am leaving from that very building and riding to Beijing and I will be talking to young men along the way about changing attitudes towards women.
Well the response I got bowled me over. I mean, here I am, not even knowing until some freak chance yesterday that this conference was happening, and now all these people were applauding and giving me their cards so that they could help me. It was awesome.
I have already sent emails tonight to potential helpers in Mexico, Pakistan, China and a contact at Oxfam. Just a great day.
7. Tomorrow is a day that will have specific focus on the trafficking problem and I think that we will be able to make some definite plans for organizations to partner with. On that front, I have been in contact with an official at the Asia Regional Cooperation to Prevent People Trafficking ARCPPT to do some work in Asia, and apparently someone over there wants to ride with us for a few days.
8. The final good thing is really just the accumulated value of the other seven. Most days I can hardly see the forest for the trees, and all Tour for Equality is to me is hard work, no pay, rejections, and macaroni for 3 meals a day. Then there are moments when all of a sudden, with appreciation from others, all of a sudden the forest emerges, the big picture becomes clear, and I take great energy and pride in the work that I do. That is how I feel right now.

New Press

2005-02-23T16:56:00.000-05:00

Hey, check it out. An article about us in the Cincinnati weekly, CityBeat:

http://www.citybeat.com/current/news2.shtml

Stay tuned for an article set to come out on March 14 from New York University's official publication: NYU Today.

Tour for Equality

2005-02-23T09:36:00.000-05:00

Hey Everyone,

I have been tempted many many times to turn this blog into a sort of emotional sump where I share all of the trials and tribulations of starting up an educational not-for-profit group. Often it is because the only news that I feel I have to report is that there is more work ahead, much more work in fact. It is a hard, hard thing to start and run something like this and despite the help that I have received from our many wonderful volunteers, more often than not I am driven to exhaustion. In fact, for the first time in my life, I have been having what amounts, it seems, to stress attacks. Now you probably don't know me if you're reading this, but I am not the type of person that is generally susceptible to stress. All through college I made sure to get my full eight hours of sleep and if I ever drove myself hard it was for a day or two at a time. This has been going on for over five months.

I want to give an accurate picture of my emotional state right now, but without having published what has been going on for the last few months it is difficult. I will restrict myself to sharing what is happening right now, because this is what has prompted me to enter the deep miasma of my personal travails and write about them.

What is going on right now is that the beginning of the ride is in sight! Now I cannot trouble to beg companies for donations, only to be given the 2 month runaround. No time. Now I cannot plan a direct mail campaign to all of the parents of former students when the schools won't let me have their addresses--no time. In short, the pressures that have been nigh on crushing are slowly letting up as my desire to perform feats of fundraising, planning, etc. become impossible.

And as I look back on the last few months I am pleased to report that there have been wonderful parts as well. Training with the amazing folk over at Men Can Stop Rape was a terrific experience and one that really made me understand the ramifications of men not actively involving themselves in the struggle for gender equality and safety. Meeting our amazing volunteer staff that has done incredible work, from graphic design of stationary to setting up school visits in rural Louisiana, has been an inspiration in the generosity of friends and strangers. The most amazing thing of all has been the generosity of companies and individuals who have given us support because they believe in our project, often without even knowing us personally. That simply blows me away--that there are people like that--and it fills me with the deepest gratitude imaginable.

This is, I think, far too long for a blog. So I will just add whatever else is going on: We had our first teaching engagement last week at the Beth Elohim School in Brooklyn. We are trying to set up a visit with church youth in the Bronx. Also, we have our big party scheduled for March 4, which should be a wonderful send-off. All we need now is funding. As you may have read, Billy had to withdraw from the trip because we had not raised enough money. We have gotten a whole bunch of product sponsorships from companies, but we do not have enough money to pay for flights, food, lodging, or vaccinations. All we need to fund the trip (to barely fund it, that is) is $10,000. If anyone knows of a company that may want to sponsor us, please contact me. We are willing to give up the name of the trip to a company (i.e. the Nike Tour for Equality).

Thanks to everyone that read this. Feel free to say comment, or just say hi. We appreciate your interest and it is often what keeps us motivated. Just click on the button below for Comments. Take care.

Tour for Equality

2005-02-09T16:07:00.000-05:00

Hi all,

The pace is starting to pick up around the Tour for Equality headquarters. Our web traffic is getting much much higher (we even had hits today from Denmark and Israel), our product sponsors have gotten much of their (much-appreciated!) gear in, and we have been interviewed for a bunch of different school newspapers. Today, in fact, our story was picked up by the University of Cincinnati. Check out their article on us!

http://www.newsrecord.org/news/2005/02/09/News/Daap-Senior.Plans.Bike.Ride.Through.U.Asia-856578.shtml

Unfortunately, we have also had a big setback. Billy White, who was going to be doing the whole ride (US and Asia) had to pull out of the trip because we have not yet collected enough funds. We are still hard at work soliciting donations to make sure that this trip succeeds.

Finances aside, we have also begun to contact the schools in the cities and towns where Tour for Equality will visit to set up lectures and teaching opportunities. If you have an interest in having Tour for Equality visit your school, please contact Raphael at tourforequality@yahoo.com.

That's all for now. Many thanks to all of our well-wishers.

Raphael and the Tour team.

Tour for Equality

2005-01-27T08:29:00.000-05:00

Aright! The blog works. Allow this, then, to be your official welcome to Tour for Equality. Thanks for dropping by!

This blog will be getting a lot more interesting on or around March 15, when Billy and Raphael leave to start the trans-America leg of the Tour. In Asia we will be joined by Ian and Jacob and we will depart for East Asia to work with the non-profits over there.

Until we can recount our tales of adventure, activism, and hilarity--I invite anyone who stops by to blog us. Let us know what's on your mind.

Welcome to TFE

2005-01-26T22:09:00.000-05:00

Hi there. Welcome to Tour for Equality. Forgive this note for being so short, but I'm new to blogging and I'm not quite convinced yet that this will work.