Written July-November, 2021

Previously: Nepal – Thailand – Malaysia – Indonesia

August 29, 2019:

Flying on Malaysia-based Malindo Air, I traveled from Bali across the equator to Sri Lanka. There was a layover in Kuala Lumpur and an hour delay of the second flight led to an arrival after midnight, but the flights were pleasant enough and I was surprised when they served pizza on the first leg. As I had come to appreciate, you almost always get meals on Southeast Asian airline flights more than an hour or two long.

The Sinhalese people constitute about 75% of the Sri Lankan population and are mostly Buddhists. However, the Tamils are an important minority who are mainly Hindus and are mostly located in the northern part of the country which I did not visit. A long civil war between the groups ended in 2009. In addition, Islam and Christianity are also practiced by significant minorities. Similar to Nepal and India, English is widely used as a bridge language with almost a quarter of the population speaking it.

Upon landing in Negombo, I went to immigration where they promptly told me to go to the visa on arrival desk. At the arrival desk, they scanned my passport and then I was stamped in back at immigration. The visa was free, as the country was trying to encourage tourism following the Easter bombings that took place earlier that year. This was something I hadn’t realized until after I arrived, likely in part because there were no significant travel alerts. It seemed that it had been determined as a one-time event and not an ongoing threat.

The going exchange rate was about 180 Sri Lankan rupees to the dollar, so the first purchase was a taxi ride to the nearby hostel at a steep 1,600 rupees or a bit under $9. I assumed it was due to the late hour. The next morning, I walked to the nearby train station and rode into the city proper of the Sri Lankan capital city, Colombo. Surprisingly, the 45 minute train ride cost only 40 rupees or less than a quarter. The train carriages seemed quite old and basic and it pretty much felt like riding in cattle cars. However, it was effective enough and not very busy. At one point, an older man came onboard and started playing a recorder absolutely terribly, or at least it seemed that way to me. It had to have been some of the worst music playing I had ever heard. In between the playing, there was also a speech given which I could not understand. As we got closer to the city, he walked around looking for donations. Not knowing what I would be contributing to, I avoided eye contact, but a decent percentage of people came up with some small change. Arriving at the Maradana Railway Station, I walked an hour across the city to the Bunkyard Hostel. After settling in, I grabbed lunch at a biriyani restaurant. With the spelling not being standardized at all, I came to know biriyani as a rice dish with veggies and/or a choice of protein (egg, chicken, etc.) At this place, like most others, it was a heap of spicy rice with only a little meat.

The hostel had nice facilities and was in a section of Colombo with many embassies and universities, but unfortunately the area was not very walkable. After one night, I headed inland for the small city of Kandy. The starting bus ride to the train station was 20 rupees. The train journey was about three and a half hours, gaining about 1,600 feet in altitude and cost a mere 140 rupees. This train was nicer than the city train and had seating throughout. When I arrived at the Kandy Railway Station, there were dozens upon dozens of food options. I went for a 120 rupee egg kottu, the first of many kottu dishes I had in Sri Lanka which consisted of chopped roti bread combined with veggies, spices, and either a choice of protein or extra veggies. After that, I found a bus heading the two miles to the Kandy Backpacker’s Hostel. The bus ride was 15 rupees, bringing the total cost of transportation for the day to 175 rupees. With 180 rupees costing one U.S. dollar on the exchange rate, I could barely believe how inexpensive transportation was.

I checked into the hostel and early on found myself hesitatingly pronouncing Kandy “candy.” The woman grinned knowingly and confirmed it was indeed pronounced candy. It ended up being one of the better hostels of the entire trip with relatively small and comfortable dorm rooms and a pool. A cooking class each night culminating with a complementary tasty meal on the rooftop common area. The price per night for the hostel was about $6.50. The coconut sambal was my favorite dish, made each night as a side. Though designed to be mixed with rice or other stuff, if there was extra at the end I would eat it as it was. I began to notice a pattern of some European travelers being quite spice averse. Whenever they brought out the chili powder, it would elicit grimaces from a few people, though the hostel staff would then assure them that only a little bit would be used. Sometimes a less spicy version of the dish would be done separately if anyone was particularly wary of any spiciness.

On the second or third day in Kandy, I went to the India Visa Application Center to get started with that. The visa cost approximately $160 plus about $4 for help with the paperwork and photos and took me from 9:30 to noon. Unfortunately I would need to return in a week for my passport with the visa inside. I rode the bus back to the center of the city and had lunch. I began to appreciate how large of a market city Kandy was with hundreds, if not thousands of shops filling the streets. In particular, there was a large amount of bakeries. A huge market building with all kinds of vegetables and goods being sold must have had a hundred vendors alone. I noticed that one could get a fish burger at various street spots for 50 rupees or about 30 cents; a good deal, but I wasn’t quite comfortable yet eating fish as cheap as that on the street. There were a good amount of bakeries as well. I picked up a good quality English newspaper for 30 rupees. One thing in particular I noticed being absent was scam artists. I wasn’t approached by anyone with malintent, but it made sense as there were few tourists around. I visited an ATM to replenish my cleared out wallet and then decided to enjoy the day and walk back to the hostel, which included a nice stretch along a lake. As I walked I saw one bus drive past with a flat tire. Back at the hostel, I went up onto the rooftop area to read the newspaper. A band of monkeys seemed to be hanging around the top of the building and the trees, but eventually they moved along and I grabbed a seat. I noticed that on the door to the kitchen there was a sign urging everyone to keep the door latched when leaving (from the outside). Often described as the “monkey problem,” they explained at one point that the monkeys were smart enough to open the door handle and cause all kinds of trouble. Fortunately they are not able to unlock the door on their own.

The following morning I took a train to Hatton. The first half of the train ride was relatively normal, but the second half was quite nice as we snaked further up into the highlands to a cool 4,200 feet. We pulled into the town right on schedule and my host kindly came to pick me up at the station. Rather than the usual hostel experience, I decided to try something different and went for the Trinish homestay. My host was the very proud owner of a tuk tuk, also called a rickshaw, so I got in and we buzzed off into the hills to the house. It was about a three minute trip and we soon arrived at the modest, but beautiful house on a nice peaceful street. I had the upstairs to myself which consisted of a lovely room with a porch overlooking the street. They cooked up a delicious late lunch that certainly beat the regular corner restaurants and street stands. After that, I got my camera out for the first time and headed out into the countryside. I walked by some kids playing cricket at a school and found my way into large fields of tea.

I continued on along and found a group of boys playing soccer in a field. While the language barrier was tricky, they seemed excited to have me join so I jumped into the game. We played for a while and then took a break. At one point, we just decided to run a few laps around the field and I couldn’t tell if that was something they normally do for fun or if there was some sort of error in translation, but we had fun anyways.

After a little while longer, they wanted a team photo. First I took a photo of them and then they took one with me in it.

Eventually I had to go because I had already told my host to expect me for dinner. Though I was a little uncertain with the translation, some of the kids might have asked me to come to their school the next morning. Though I already had other plans, it ended up being one of those what-if moments that I wish I had jumped on. In my head I worried maybe the teacher wouldn’t have been happy to see me or some other similar scenario. Two of the youngest kids walked back with me most of the way.

I arrived back at the house and they started cooking dinner immediately. I hung out downstairs hoping to get to know the family more and share the meal. Instead I mostly just interacted with the father for a bit while the rest of the family stayed in their private area in the back, which was a little disappointing. It was likely for cultural reasons and I think giving me space was a sign of respect and good hospitality in their minds, but unfortunately it was less of the fun cultural experience than what I was hoping for. Of course it was also possible that only the father spoke English so everyone else was shy. The father did go on and on about how he could take me to all these different tourist attractions, of course with him driving me in his tuk tuk. I was beginning to realize that having a tuk tuk seemed to be an outlet for many a man’s masculinity. It might sound funny in writing of all these guys buzzing around in their little tuk tuks, but in reality it got old pretty quick, constantly getting approached by tuk tuks offering a ride. Or even worse, sometimes getting honked at or blocked by drivers even when you have zero interest in hiring a ride, though that was more of a thing to come in India. However, my host got a pass because he was genuinely nice overall and I just politely declined the offers.

The following morning I enjoyed breakfast, the third of three excellent home cooked meals. After that, I packed up and settled the bill which came out to about $12. It was to be a travel day to the base of Adams Peak, a popular hike. I found a bus to Maskeliya at the bus park. We did the whole local bus ritual where once the bus becomes mostly full, the driver pretends to start leaving, revs the engine, and pulls out a bit, but does not actually want to leave until a few more people get onboard, as if there are a bunch of holdouts waiting until the last minute. One or two people might then jump onboard, but usually it would take another five minutes or so before enough people got on to leave. The driver might even go so far as to pull out towards the street a bit, as if to appear to be leaving, even though he was really holding out hope for a few more passengers. In the end, though, the bus usually did not need to be completely full because typically a few more people could be found on the way out of town. At Maskeliya, I found another bus to Dalhousie where I had booked a room. The mountain had an elevation of 7,359 feet and was an important pilgrimage site for Buddhists. It also seemed to be a mainstay of the backpacking circuit. However, it was the off-season so the views could be hit or miss and the village seemed very quiet. I did find a streetside vendor cooking up some food, so I joined the French couple already there. At the end of their meal, they went to pay, but unfortunately all they had was a 5,000 rupee bill (about $28) and the vendor couldn’t make change. It was a completely understandable mistake because I too had been frustrated that every single ATM only seemed to give out 5,000 rupee notes: a lot of money when most non-lodging purchases were a few pennies to a few dollars. Even though I had worked hard and been very strategic with my cash to stockpile 500 and 1,000 rupee notes ahead of coming to this remote area, I felt bad for them and traded away 5000 worth of my smaller notes and took their one large note. The food vendor was very nice and trusting and told them they could pay him back tomorrow, but in the end he was paid right there. After dinner, I walked up the trail a little bit to find the route, as I would be starting before daylight the next morning. It turned out that Adams Peak was one of those places where everyone gets up very early in hope of catching the sunrise at the top. Walking around, I met a group of young men taking a break from a run. One or the other said hello and we had a few words. It turned out they were in the Sri Lankan Navy. I asked with a grin why they were away from the ocean and they laughed and said they were training. They were very nice. It was kind of funny being half a foot taller than the entire military unit.

The alarm was set for 2 AM and I was on the trail before 2:30. Early on, the trail was blocked from where I had been the night before and hikers were herded into a temple where everyone was supposed to sign the guestbook with your name, country, and donation amount. Most people were contributing 1,000 rupees. It was a slick setup and I didn’t want to make the United States look bad and be cheap, but at the same time I had no idea where the money is going. I didn’t have any thousand bills left, but I parted ways with my last 500 rupee note. Of course I could have just written 1,000 anyways, but oh well. I passed a few people, but then was overtaken by a Portuguese guy living in England. I decided to burn the legs and keep pace with him for the rest of the hike. There were thousands of well maintained steps and the total vertical gain was just under 3,000 feet. The summit was reached in about two hours, or only an hour and a half for my companion. The temple was closed for the season so it was only recreational hikers at the top. About 20 people eventually made it up, but we still had to wait for the sun to rise. Unfortunately we were completely in the clouds so there was no view when it slowly became light out. As always in Asia, there was someone at the top making a few rupees off of the tourists, in this case offering up tea.

I held out hope longer than most, but I eventually decided it was unlikely the clouds would burn off. I headed back down at a more leisurely pace. Eventually I got below the clouds, though the summit never appeared.

Things were still pretty quiet, as the hikers were far and few between. At one point, a shirtless religious figure beckoned me from the side of the trail with his index finger, hypnotically speaking in a mild passive voice “come…come” as if he was a god or something. Alarm bells ringing that it was a tourist trap or scam, I picked up the pace and passed by. By the time I got back to the village, it was still only mid-morning. I went back to my room and packed the rest of my stuff.

When I got down to the owner of the guesthouse, he practically had a heart attack when he saw the 5,000 rupee note. However, he thought for a second and then quickly ran over to the bus that was parked nearby and the conductor was able to make change. I appreciated that. The bus out didn’t leave until about 11 so there was some waiting to do. I thought it somewhat funny when the priestly figure I had encountered earlier boarded the bus a little later, the days work complete trying to separate money from tourists. Eventually we drove to Maskeliya where I grabbed lunch and then found the connection back to Hatton. This time I stayed at the Railway Lodge which was a relatively classy hotel that included a dormitory which I was the only person in. I enjoyed Hatton because there was not a tourist to be seen. It was a large market town with hundreds of businesses selling anything one can imagine, but it was still possible to walk from one end to the other in 15 minutes. At one point I was about to cross a street and I was surprised when a vehicle actually stopped for me. I looked down and realized that I was at a crosswalk. On my fifth country in Asia, this was the first time anyone had ever stopped for me in a crosswalk and I had long given up trying! Also around this point, I was beginning to embrace local custom of eating foods with fingers. Even the messiest foods. The standard practice was to wash your hands in the provided sink before and after the meal and traditionally eat with your right hand. The left hand was traditionally reserved for unclean tasks, but this norm seemed less important with modern plumbing becoming more readily available. One other observation I noticed was that a “hotel” usually meant a restaurant and not lodging in Sri Lanka.

The next day I headed off to Nuwara Eliya, one the highest altitude settlements in the country at over 6,100 feet. The city is the administrative capital of the region and an important area for tea growing. Tourism is also important, with many lodgings throughout and a variety of businesses catering to visitors in the downtown area. Most tourists were Sri Lankan visitors from what I could see. I headed down to the Hatton bus park and was soon pointed towards a van heading to Nuwara Eliya. Still amazed at how inexpensive transportation was in Sri Lanka, I took notes on all the details of the trip in order to figure out the economics.

• 22 passenger van plus 3 fold-down seats in the aisle
• Average of 33-35 customers in the van throughout the trip not including the driver and ticket collector. About 8 of these positions were coming and going.
• About a 2 hour journey including a long steep 1,000 foot climb at the end. The return trip would probably be 20-30 minutes faster.
• 130 rupee fare for the entire trip or about 72 cents.
• Estimated total passenger revenue of about $24 to $25.

For a while, we cruised right along with the uphills not being too bad. However, once we reached the Nuwara Eliya train station (Nanu Oya), it was a quick 1,000 foot of vertical climb which was a long stretch in first and second gear. We were dropped off near the downtown area and I walked to the Hi Lanka Hostel which was a little tricky to find because the sign seemed to have been taken down. It seemed like it was once a fabulous hostel and while it was still fine, it was a little damp and worn down from years of visitors. The price for two nights was a good deal at $7.66 and included a surprisingly hearty breakfast each morning. The nights were pretty chilly due to the altitude. I walked back into town for dinner where you could here the rhythmic clattering sounds of kottu being prepared. When chopping up the roti bread, many cooks prepared the food like they were playing percussion in a band. They were usually strategically positioned outside the front of the restaurant to draw in potential diners off the street. Walking the streets and listening to the racket was a uniquely Sri Lankan experience. The standard food options at most places were kottu (bread with spices and a choice of protein), and rice curry with a choice of protein. Of course in a larger city there are more options, but overall Sri Lankan food was the most basic of all the countries I went to. While the mains were lacking, the snacks or “short eats” were better than most countries with the samosas being top notch.

It should be pointed out that rain showers were a pretty common occurrence in the highlands with an average of seven inches of rain falling in Nuwara Eliya each September. With the weather cooperating and a full day to explore, I hiked around. The first stop was Lover’s Leap waterfall.

The tragic legend goes that a young prince and princess wanted to get married, but the king did not approve. So they joined hands and leaped from the top of the waterfall, together until the end. It certainly was not the only place with such a story.

After the waterfall, I wandered onto a nearby tea plantation.

Eventually I veered towards the main road to head back. However, at one point I walked near a dog that went crazy and started viciously barking so I had to turn around and find a different way. Once I got to the main road, I got a random street food snack and then briefly observed the cricket park which seemed to be having a game that afternoon.

Back at the hostel, unfortunately there was only one other traveler staying there besides a large group of Sri Lankan school girls accompanied by a few chaperones and a driver. They had booked up the rest of the hostel and did their own thing. The one other traveler was a nice Pakistani guy who was on his first trip outside of his country. One remark he made that caught my attention was that in his eyes, everyone follows the rules in Sri Lanka unlike in Pakistan (i.e. while driving).

The next day was sunny and I hopped the bus back to Kandy where I would pick up my passport with the Indian visa the following day. It was a nice downhill ride through the countryside. The Kandy Backpackers Hostel had been such a nice spot that I booked two more nights there. The next day I went over to the visa office in the afternoon, but unfortunately they were running late. It wasn’t until almost 5 o’clock that they came in with a box full of passports and distributed them out. I guessed that they had come from the Indian embassy in Colombo and the train or other transportation had been late. I headed back to the hostel and stopped at a newspaper stand in Kandy where they had a daily in English. But it was a relief to know that I was ready to head to India and I booked my plane ticket that night. Back at the hostel, it was one more night of having a nice meal with fellow travelers on the rooftop area.

The following morning I caught the 11:15 train for Ella. Some steps were being retraced, as I had already been on this train to Hatton which was the first two hours. The entire journey was six hours to Ella and it was easily the most glorious train journey I have ever been on. The fare was 400 rupees or about $2.25 and most of the trip after the first hour and a half was through the incredible highland countryside. After Hatton, we wound our way through beautiful hills, valleys, and waterfalls.

One apparent fun tradition was that in every tunnel, all the kids would scream like we were on a roller coaster. While no country ever came anywhere close to matching Thailand train snacks, I did get a prawn (shrimp) snack which was pretty good. Not too far after Hatton was the Nuwara Eliya station and we kept going a while longer until we passed a sign noting the line’s maximum elevation of 6,227 feet. From there is was mostly a gradual downhill, though not too much, as Ella was at about 3,400 feet. There were a few places where we came out on some incredible ridge lines perched high above nearby valleys. Though I missed the best spots, I tried to get some of them on camera.

It seemed like at every door there was a person standing there with their head outside like a dog and a car window. I joined the fun and did the same for about half an hour. When I was taking pictures, one hand and two feet were dedicated to firmly planting myself in the train while the remaining hand held the camera.

It should be mentioned that outside of the first hour or two, a high percentage of people on the train were likely tourists. Most were Sri Lankan tourists, but a decent number of westerners were also onboard. The train ride and scenic areas seemed to be a must do experience for Sri Lankans as well.

From sunny weather at the start, the trip progressed to the typical overcast weather of the highlands with a few periods of rainfall.

The scheduled arrival time in Ella was five thirty, but we ended up pulling in a little after six. It was starting to get dark and within moments of getting off it started pouring rain. However, a few minutes later it let up enough to go find Ceylon Backpackers Hostel which I had booked. It was tricky finding it because it was almost dark and there was not a good sign, but eventually I came to the right place. The facilities were basic, but the owner was very nice and it was only four to a dorm room. After getting settled in, I went out to dinner in town with several people from the hostel. At the restaurant, I did a general survey of the place and noticed that pretty much every single person was in the 20-35 age range. As I would come to figure out, this seemed to be the case for everyone staying in the entire town, or certainly at least 90% of the visitors. Ella was also the only place I visited in Sri Lanka dominated by westerners. I do believe Sri Lankan tourists come visit the Ella region, but they seem to be more likely to stay out in the countryside inns.

A very hearty complimentary breakfast was served the next morning at the hostel. Afterwards, we were invited over to the hostel owner’s brother’s new restaurant right next store. There was always room for more food while traveling so I managed to eat a second meal that included rice pudding with chili. The brother was very nice. I ended up going there for a few more meals while in Ella. There was not a menu yet and it was pay what you wish for the time so we gave him a reasonable amount. The “brothers” sort of became a running joke because there was also a third brother who owned another hostel right next to the first two. All three brothers were very much alike both in appearance and personality.

The next morning I walked to the 9 Arch Railroad Bridge with an Indian friend from the hostel. It was a couple miles further down the railroad tracks past Ella. Any inhibitions about walking on railroad tracks were thrown out the window once and for all. To my amazement, there seemed to be an entire economy based on railroad track walkers, with a few businesses selling coconuts, snacks, and souvenirs.

Eventually we came to a tunnel that one did not want to be caught in when a train arrived. Presumably it would be possible to run out the other side in time if a train unexpectedly arrived.

The 9 Arch Bridge came immediately after the tunnel. I had checked the schedule in advance to see if we could time the bridge visit to a passenger train coming through, but there were none scheduled within a few hours.

After taking in the scene, we walked back to the hostel.

With the grass always being greener on the other side, on the second day in Ella, I switched to the highly rated Hangover Hostel. I never stayed in any of the blatantly party hostels which I originally assumed this one to be, but on closer examination it was not a party hostel at all and it seemed pretty nice so I gave it a try.

That evening, a group formed to hike Little Adams Peak for the sunrise (named after the peak I had recently done). We got up early and walked along some quiet streets until we found the trail. It was not a hard climb up the hill and we were rewarded with a beautiful scene, though whether or not it was worth getting up so early was debatable.

While the sunrise itself wasn’t overly spectacular, it was interesting seeing the landscape brighten up and also nice to get an early start to the day.

A little later back at the hostel, another group of ten people formed to visit the Upper Diyaluma Falls. We secured two vans and were off for an afternoon trip. A couple of people had read up on some scams we might encounter, such as “helpful” people on the trail giving unsolicited directions and then persistently asking for money. Fortunately we didn’t meet any of these people. After a pleasant half hour hike in, a series of waterfalls was revealed with several excellent swimming spots. One of the spots had a nice ten foot cliff jump on the side of a cascade.

After plenty of time enjoying the spot, the clouds threatening and as we were packing up, rain drops started to fall. We found shelter under the roof of a nearby hut along with a group of Sri Lankan guys who were also visiting the waterfall. The heavy downpour lasted about 20 minutes and then we headed back down the trail. When we reached the vans, a couple of women started hounding us about paying for parking which seemed crazy in such a remote area. The others said this was just a scam and that we should just ignore them. However, one of our drivers was in on the game as well and said we were supposed to pay, so being the last one to get in the van, I paid off the women the 100 rupees per van they wanted or about $1.10 altogether. They joyously took the money and handed me the two parking “receipts.”

On the way back to Ella, we stopped at the lower falls which was right along the road. This waterfall was much higher.

We headed back to Ella and had dinner at a restaurant called Matey. It was the best food I ate in Sri Lanka. The “rice with four (standalone) vegetable curries” was the main logical option and everything about the meal was excellent. It was very hearty overall with a much higher ratio of curries verses rice then would be customary at the average street spot. And each of the vegetable curries was unique and very flavorful (and rotated depending on the day). The price of 480 rupees was well worth it.

The next day a group formed to hike Ella Rock, the highest peak near town. The first mile of the hike was westward on the railroad tracks.

A little ways along, we bumped into a trio of Dutch guys I had met at the hostel in Kandy. It was worth a laugh, but at the same time it wasn’t too surprising being a small country and even fewer backpacking areas.

Eventually we turned left off the tracks onto a trail. The trails weren’t marked at all, but we headed in the general direction up the hill.

Eventually we came to the top and viewpoint. Being a Sunday, there were many visitors, both Sri Lankan and Westerners.

After a sufficient amount of time, we descended, choosing a different route that involved more time on the train track. At about halfway down, a Sri Lankan tourist asked our group for a selfie. That was obliged and with the ice broken, a flurry of selfies got underway. The female group members seemed to get the most attention, but eventually a request or two came my way as well.

Eventually we reached the train track just below Kithalella Railway Station and we heard a commotion that sounded like a train in the station. We started walking back on the tracks even though a group of Sri Lankan tourists warned us to wait. However, within a minute we heard the toot of the horn and the train rolling towards us so we scrambled off the tracks! Fortunately there was a clearing with a bench; otherwise we would have been forced to jump into the tall grass. Seconds later, the people who had warned us, but had apparently followed us came running to get off the tracks as well.

Though it seemed like we had a decent amount of space at first, it felt very close when the train zoomed by at about 25 miles per hour.

The rest of the hike was uneventful. Back at the hostel, there was a conversation where we were talking about other hostels in Sri Lanka. One hostel that came up was Tomorrowland which was another Ella hostel, but located about 5 miles from town, reportedly in the middle of the jungle. Their online booking page seemed pretty loosey goosey, saying that they don’t believe in check in or check out times, curfew times, or even any rules and restrictions at all. They expected guests to keep track of their own bill and pay the right amount at the end. It was hard to tell if it was a party hostel or just a place to smoke certain things, but speculation was rampant even though none of us had stayed there. The Laughing Leopard Hostel in Nuwara Eliya also came up which had a little more clear reputation as a party hostel. The owner was reportedly always drunk or on something. Apparently one group of people had done a big overnight excursion into the mountains and when they came back to the hostel, the owner said ‘have a beer’ and they replied ‘uh, can we have breakfast?’

The next day I switched back to Ceylon Backpackers Hostel, finding it a better value with the complimentary breakfast and filtered water as well as the nice owner. I spent a couple more days largely relaxing in town and eating at the brother’s restaurant as well as Matey. There was also a local snack spot I frequented and I noticed that after bring enough friends there, they remove the service charge from the price, a feature common to Ella, but unheard of anywhere else in the country.

Though many backpackers seemed to be heading to Arugam Bay on the eastern coast, I decided to go to Galle for my last few days in Sri Lanka despite it being the rainy season on the south coast. The hostel owner told me the late morning time to catch the bus and I went down to wait. They were running a bit late, but eventually they came through. The conductor put my backpack in the rear compartment and I hopped on the standing room only bus for the seven hour ride. We descended the hills and relatively quickly stopped for lunch in Wellawaya. Then we sped along at a fast pace across the flat country landscape, sticking to the main roads. As with some buses in Sri Lanka, there was a TV in the front playing music videos. Every bus in Sri Lanka had varying levels of “atmosphere” with some having ornaments with flashing lights, videos, and Buddhism symbols. On the buses that had a television set, I noted three types of music videos typically played which were coordinated with the song, but not really the musical notes. The first was the cute animal videos, an example being shots of panda bears clumsily falling all over the place. Another of the main video types was the action movie scenes, with random exciting sequences being shown from movies. The third type of video was the romantic scenes, which would feature random shots of a man overlooking a woman lying down, a woman overlooking a man lying down, a man and a woman staring at each other, and other dreamy sequences. Standing up, I didn’t really have a view out the window so most of the time my eyes had no where to focus but the TV. Eventually, I kind of figured out that the seats were meant to go to the people who had been on the bus the longest. However, being the guest of the country as well as not being certain that sitting would be more comfortable than standing, I didn’t want to jockey too hard for one so I was content to stand. The conductor was one of those guys who always seemed to have a grin on his face no matter what. After about four hours, he noticed I had been standing for a long time and arranged a seat which I thought was really nice. Despite being scheduled for seven hours, we arrived at Galle in six hours, likely due to some speeding. The entire ride cost 450 rupees or about $2.50.

With daylight waning, I found the Track Fun Hostel which I came to realize was a Chinese hostel. I had not seen many if any Chinese tourists in Sri Lanka, but it turned out that there was a small Chinese community in Galle. I wondered what “track fun” meant in Chinese. Apparently it was a motto or expression or something along those lines.

The next morning I had a full day to explore Galle. The highlight of the city was the Galle Fort, a world heritage sight. Construction began in the 16th century by the Portuguese and then was continued by the Dutch after their takeover. Eventually the country and fort came under control of the British until independence in 1948.

Near a lighthouse, there was a mosque that at the time I assumed had previously been a church. However, upon further research while also noting that it faces Mecca and not the street, it turns out it had always been a mosque, though influenced by European architecture.

I continued making a wide circle around the fort. At one point, someone was trying to sell old coins which out of the corner of my eye looked pretty real. However, I avoided direct eye contact to avoid any sort of pressure selling.

After enough walking around, I headed back to the hostel. Fortunately the rain had held off. The next morning I had enough time to visit a prominent church before catching the train to Colombo. I noted the discreet presence of a security officer near the front, likely in response to the Easter Bombings.

After waiting out a brief downpour, I grabbed my stuff from the hostel and caught the train to Colombo. The several hour train ride cost less than a dollar. At one station, I was surprised to see a locomotive flagged as from Newfoundland. It had apparently ended up in Sri Lanka after the Newfoundland Railway closed in 1988. The ride was near the coast the entire time and the last stretch in Colombo was right on the water. The train terminated at Fort Railway Station, the main station in Colombo. I had about an hour to spare so I walked around the bustling market district and picked up an English newspaper. I saw a popular spot selling milk shakes in the range of 50 to 65 cents so I grabbed one as a treat. Eventually I caught the local train heading to Negombo near the airport, the same train as when I first came into Sri Lanka. Sure enough, I got round two of the old man playing the recorder terribly! One of the more unique moments of the trip. I got off at Katunayaka South Railway Station and walked to the hostel where there were a few other people staying to talk to. It turned out one guy was on the same flight to Chennai as me so we decided to share a tuk tuk ride to the airport the next morning. I grabbed dinner across the street with him and then relaxed for the evening.

The next morning, Septembeer 19, 2019, things went as planned and we headed to the airport on time. Security was tight and our tuk tuk couldn’t even approach the front of the airport due to restrictions. We had a ten minute walk to the entrance. It should have been expected by this point, but the agent at the outer door asked to see flight confirmation information. I had it downloaded on my laptop just in case so I pulled it out and started trying to pull it up when he finally just impatiently waved me through. A round of security was next and then I got to the check-in desk. Since I was planning on spending 2 months in India and had a six month visa, I did not think proof of onward travel would be necessary. However, unfortunately the agent said he needed to see it. The guy I was with also hadn’t planned for this so we both scrambled to buy tickets for onward travel. After a few minutes, the agent recommended getting a relatively cheap bus ticket to Nepal and fortunately it was mostly refundable so once that was booked we were all set. Another round of security awaited and we boarded the plane with a little less time to spare than planned. The flight was only one and a half hours. I was pretty excited to see what awaited in India as well as a little nervous. I thought that India would be like Sri Lanka, except a little more intense, but I would quickly find out that was a major underestimate.

Overall, I found Sri Lanka to be one of the most well-rounded countries I visited. Of the places I visited, the Sri Lankan people were some of the nicest. The infrastructure was good so getting around the relatively small country was easy. The country seemed to be on the upswing economically and there was not much extreme poverty. Every obstacle seemed to be malleable and things always seemed to work out well in the end. There was a nice low-key backpacking scene, while at the same time the country seemed mostly undiscovered by package tourists. It was the cheapest country I visited for food and transportation with typical meals being 50 cents to $1.50 and transportation costing just pennies for short trips. Hostels usually costed between $4 and $8. The weather was quite comfortable in the highlands, even if a bit rainy. The people were quite friendly and happy-go-lucky and many people could speak English. The only downside of Sri Lanka was that the food options were fairly limited, though I probably could have eaten a lot better if I had gone to more restaurants with meals in the $2 to $5 range. Less of a nuisance, but worth mentioning as a con was the crowded buses. Overall, if I were to come back to one country to show friends for a week or two, it would be Sri Lanka. More than two weeks would have to be Nepal.

Next up: Southern India!

Previous countries: 1) Nepal 2) Thailand

Following the successful crossing of the Malaysian border at Padang Besar on June 15, 2019, the next task was to acquire Malaysian currency. I searched the train station from top to bottom, but was surprised to discover that no ATM was present. Eventually, I walked towards what seemed to be a town. A motorbike driver warned me that the town was a long distance away, but in about ten minutes I found an ATM and took out enough ringgit to last me a week or two. The exchange rate of approximately 4 ringgit per dollar was simple enough to remember. I walked back to the station, passing by the motorbike driver who avoided eye contact. The train ticket was purchased and I waited for the next hourly train to Penang.

It was a Sunday afternoon and many people were likely heading home after the weekend. The train was quite crowded and I ended up standing for almost the entire two hour journey. Surprising for a route of its distance, the train carriages were the style of a subway system and had limited seating. The train terminated in Butterworth where I quickly caught a 20 minute ferry to George Town. The ferry fare to the island was 1.2 ringgit (approximately 30 cents) and free for the return journey back to the mainland. By coincidence, the trip was perfectly timed to a beautiful sunset.

At this point in the journey, I was becoming a bit tired of always being on the move. One goal of the trip was to spend a month in one place and appreciate it. Before even stepping foot on the island, Penang had already been on my mind as a candidate.

Penang is both a state and an island that is connected to the mainland by two large bridges and frequent ferry service. George Town is the capital of Penang and is an old British settlement that is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The ferry arrived in George Town and I walked to my hostel. After dropping things off, I went out to dinner. I quickly found that unlike Thailand, street food was not to be found on every corner, but rather in specific street market locations.

One thing that I had been looking forward to was the Muslim call to prayer broadcasted five times daily from mosques. Malaysia was my first Muslim country and I found the prayers to be quite fascinating. However, I soon found out that it also necessitated being strategic about the locations of hostels. It quickly became noticeable that the first hostel I stayed at in George Town was very close to a mosque when I was awakened at 5:45 in the morning. Overall I found it quite interesting, though it would have been hard to understand even if it were in English, as at any given moment I was in earshot of 4-6 mosques, all broadcasting their prayers at once!

In addition to the Malaysian ethnicity which is largely Muslim, Chinese and Indian people are well represented minorities at 22% and 7% of the total country population. In Penang, the proportion of Chinese is about equal to Malaysians, and Indians represent about 10% of the population.

After trying out a few places, I settled into staying at the Aigoh Hotel for most of my time in George Town thanks to the comfortable facilities, excellent value, and nice staff. The manager was a guy nicknamed “Moose” who had attended business school in Minnesota.

I quickly began to discover the incredible and vibrant food scene of George Town. A number of night markets were within walking distance serving up delicious plates. The highlight was Char Koay Teow (stir-fried noodle strips with eggs, bean sprouts, chives, soy sauce, other delicious ingredients, and a choice of chicken or shrimp). My second favorite dish was Popiah, a similar but unique version of spring rolls. Also excellent was Wan Tan Mee (a noodle dish with dumplings and other ingredients), Mee Goreng (friend noodles), Cendol (a dessert of jelly noodles, kidney beans, shaved ice, and extra sugar), and the fried oyster omelette. Also of note is the unofficial national dish, Nasi Lemak, a breakfast meal of rice cooked in coconut milk with anchovies and chili wrapped in a banana leaf for flavor. Many dozens of these were consumed during my time in Malaysia. The vast majority of street food was in the one to three USD range and a full meal would typically be two dishes and a possible dessert.

While most dinners involved a street food outing, lunch was a choice between the various food courts and buffet restaurants. The buffets were an excellent place for a hearty meal. Each restaurant had its own system, though a typical format involved grabbing a plate, scooping on a base layer of rice, loading up the plate with a hearty assortment of other foods, and visiting the cashier who would eyeball the food, perhaps poke around a bit with a tong, and give the price, typically in the $2-3 range for vegetarian and $3-4 range for non-veg. Locals would heap on a higher concentration of rice and presumably be charged less.

I also began discovering Indian food and culture thanks to the prominent Little India district nearby. In particular, the coconut and milk sweets were out of this world!

I became friends with the Aigoh night watchman named Ji and we started a routine of going out to breakfast on many mornings, usually at his favorite spot. The spot had a decent nasi lemak plus a variety of other baked goods. Additionally, a separate guy nearby made rotis, an Indian flatbread. My favorite option was roti telur bawang (roti egg and onion). Every roti came with curry. Nasi lemak cost 1.20 ringgit, the baked goods were all 0.50 ringgit, and roti telur bawang was 2.5 ringgitt. With 4 ringgitt equaling about 1 USD, plenty of breakfasts were had for around a dollar.

One day I decided to go up Penang Hill, a popular tourist spot. It was a nice ride up the funicular, originally built by the British in the 1920’s. The hill was nice, though overcast weather reduced the clarity of the views.

I decided to hike down rather than ride, hoping I was early enough and the weather was cloudy enough to avoid the worst of the heat. The trail was very rarely traveled and I only met a few people coming in the opposite direction. At one point I met a Malaysian guy coming up who was facing a seemingly possessed dog that would not stop barking at him for 5 or 10 minutes!

We talked for a minute and he warned me that there were some mean dogs further down the trail. At first I didn’t think anything of it and just assumed that he wasn’t used to dogs. However, I recalled the barking dog a few minutes earlier and decided to pick up a few sticks and stones just in case.

About five minutes later, I passed near a residence and caught sight of a few dogs. As I came through, I heard a low growl. All of a sudden three vicious barking dogs were threatening me at 10, 12, and 2 o’clock! I quickly launched into a defensive position, knees bent and ready to throw a branch if one of the dogs became too aggressive. It was clear that the dogs were too afraid to attack, but a stalemate resulted, as I couldn’t leave without them coming after me. Fortunately, the owner came to the door and shouted something at the dogs. This was my moment to depart and I made my way as quickly as possible while not giving the appearance of fleeing. After about 50 yards, I heard an angry bark behind me and saw that one of the dogs (trailed by a second dog) was running at me again. I quickly resumed an aggressive pose and the dog stopped in its tracks. Fortunately this time the dog shrank backwards on its own accord, though not before giving me a few more barks.

Over the course of the month in Penang, there were many other short stories to be noted. One thing Penang is famous for is having the best durian, a fruit that is famously delicious or disgusting depending on who you ask. I happened to be in Penang during the harvest season. Depending on the type of durian, it can be quite smelly and persistent and signs forbidding durian inside could be found on many doors. One guy I became acquainted with named Chris came all the way up from Singapore to get it fresh. He let me try a bit of his. This one had a smooth, meaty, juicy texture, and a relatively plain, but interesting taste.

A nearby morning wet market was quite the spectacle to walk through. The different food standards (or lack thereof) were quite noticeable. The building was full of noisy chickens, other animals, and butchers chopping up meat and fish. Refrigeration was almost entirely absent. My regular breakfast place was to the side of the market and one morning I watched through the window as a butcher chopped the heads off of chickens, one after another. However, by all accounts, I heard several Penangites comment favorably on the cleanliness standards of this market and I had no reason to believe otherwise.

As the need presented itself, I got a haircut at a place recommended by Ji. The price was 15 ringgit or about $3.75, “expensive” for Malaysian standards due to the cost of rent in Georgetown. The Bangladeshi guy who cut my hair was quite funny. He and another guy asked me all the characteristic no-holds-barred questions I’d come to expect from people of Asian cultures: “are you alone?” “You’re aren’t travelling with anyone?” That eventually led to: “Do you have a girlfriend?” “How many girlfriends have you broken up with before? “Must be at least 15!”

One thing that impressed me at many food places was the superb memories of people taking orders. It seemed to often be a point of pride for waiters to not need to write orders down. I was particularly impressed with one street roti place I went to a few times. First I got the attention of the person taking orders and handling the cash. After telling him what I wanted, he turned over his shoulder and gave a quick shout to another person next to him. I wasn’t even sure he had gotten the order, but he nodded and I found a seat at a table among at least 40 other people. I started thinking that there was no way the order would come out. This seemed confirmed after 10 minutes and still no sign of the roti. However, after about 15 minutes, the roti finally came! I imagined the guy in charge saying ‘this roti? Purple dress middle-aged lady over there. That roti? Tall white guy over there.’ After finishing the meal, I went back to pay. Sure enough, he was spot on with the right price I needed to pay.

Unfortunately the only serious bout of (likely) food poisoning during the trip occurred in Penang. The source is a mystery, but possibly came from shrimp I had the evening before. I was so ill that evening that I almost fainted for the first time in my life! It took a full week to make a complete recovery and regain my appetite. Both Moose and Ji kept on touting this famous “Chinese medicine” that would magically help my predicament. For the first few days, I didn’t take them seriously and ignored the idea, thinking it was just mumbo jumbo. However, by perhaps the fourth day, Ji finally walked me into a shop that sold the sort of thing and helped me pick out the right Chinese medicine. Amazingly, soon after I took some of it the mild stomach discomfort went away and my appetite returned to normal! The next day I didn’t take the medicine to see what would happen and the symptoms came right back. I returned to taking the medicine for a couple more days until it was finally not needed anymore.

Life continued on in Penang for a little while longer. I became a regular at a few places including a breakfast street stall that had an incredible dish made with potatoes, sprouts, eggs, and other delicious sauces.

One evening I was walking back from the New Lane night market when out of the corner of my eye I saw and heard a dog emit a low growl. It didn’t consciously register in my mind and I continued on down the street. Suddenly I heard something coming behind me. I turned around to see three dogs rushing at me! I stood my ground and shouted as the three dogs angrily barked at me! Once it became clear that there was a stalemate, the next question was how I could continue on my way without the dogs chasing after me. Patience was needed, but somehow I managed to continue on without having them come after me again.

After over a month in Penang, I began to get a strong urge to hit the road again. I packed my bags and said goodbye to my friends at the Aigoh. The short ferry ride back to Butterworth was smooth sailing and I boarded a bus for the four hour trip to the Cameron Highlands, very excited to escape the heat. The day was July 21, 2019.

The De’Native Guest House, elevation 4,835 feet, was one of the best hostels of the trip. I walked the 10 minutes from town up the hill and was greeted by the five wonderful dogs that live at the hostel: Igloo, Jesse, Koby, Bunny, and Lady. The dorm was in a 100 year old colonial bungalow formerly used by British officers. The owner, Krish, was very nice and the star of the show every evening during the nightly bonfire. The bonfire was perfectly conducive for culture exchange and getting to know the other guests. Krish was very loose and was one of the few places of the entire trip that did not ask to see my passport, excluding the tea houses in Nepal. He was also one of the few places I stayed at in Thailand and Malaysia that didn’t settle the payment upfront, though it should be noted that in Nepal, typically the payment occurred at the end.

During the first night, plans for made for the next day’s adventures. It was learned that Igloo was a natural guide dog who would accompany us on the hike. Not only does he guide De’Native guests, but he will also find guests at other hostels to guide. After a good breakfast the following morning at an Indian restaurant, a group of about seven or eight started off on Trail 10. The climb was quite steep and a bit muddy through the jungle, but quickly got us up into the hills. At the first major viewpoint, a passing hiker told us we would find a guy playing the guitar and catching butterflies at the top. Our interests piqued, though not quite fully able to believe the story, we continued on.

At the highest point, sure enough we found a local guy playing his guitar. He turned out to be quite the character. It quickly became clear that his life passion was music and he frequently climbed the mountain to play for whoever would listen. We hung out with him for almost an hour, though unfortunately no one was a good enough singer to join him despite his pleas. At one point between songs, he used his net to try to catch a butterfly, but unfortunately that spooked Igloo and put an end to the activity. Eventually he needed to go to work so he packed his guitar and said goodbye. We continued on in the opposite direction, deeper into the jungle. The trail traveled along a tall ridge so as thick as the vegetation was, we still got occasional glimpses of the vast jungle valley to our west.

Eventually we reached the end of our section of the hike and looped back to the hostel on the road.

On the second day I joined a couple of people to hike Trail 9 to a tea plantation. We started first thing after breakfast and began the steep downhill hike.

After descending enough elevation to notice an increase in heat, we came upon the road to the tea plantation. We followed the road gradually uphill and eventually found ourselves within the grounds of the plantation.

A few hours after beginning the hike, we reached the visitor center and cafe. We started off with a bit of food. I had to admit that the carrot and banana cake was quiet good. As we were eating, we saw our hostel friends Dylan and Jess, an American and English couple, pull in on a scooter they borrowed from Krish. They joined us and we went over to see the free tea factory tour. We were able to see the various stages of tea production and the machines were all reportedly from the 1920’s-30’s when the tea plantation was built. At the end of the tour, a heavy rainstorm had begun that would have soaked anyone in seconds. We waited under a roof for about 10 minutes. Once it died down a bit, we dashed back to the cafe.

After a little while, the rain ended. Dylan and Jess set off on the scooter while the rest of us made arrangements for a taxi ride. A woman who worked there who had a 40 ringgit deal ($10). Less than 20 minutes after Dylan and Jess set off, a huge thunderstorm with torrential rains roared in and we grimaced at the thought of being on the scooter. The taxi driver arrived and we drove the half hour back to the hostel, with the driver skillfully maneuvering around some large puddles that had formed on the road. We later found out that Dylan and Jess had pulled over and taken shelter at a roadside food place to wait out the storm.

Four days in total were spent at De’Native Guest House. This included one extra day to enjoy the peacefulness and cool highland air while reading a Three Investigators book that was kicking around: The Secret of Skull Island. Even the prayers of the local muezzin were the most beautiful I heard of the entire trip, partly because he was in the sole mosque within earshot and there was no prayer overlap. The dogs were a fun presence as well and it was quite funny when Krish or his wife drove in resulting in the dogs jumping all over the car in excitement, being taller than the car while in an upright position! There was also the “racist” dog Jesse who was nice with most people, but always barked angrily at Krish’s helper, a native of the jungle who had a bit darker skin than the others.

Various interesting discussions were had over the bonfire every evening. Krish mentioned he used to have another dog like Igloo that would travel around quite a bit. Unfortunately that dog was poisoned. Dogs are sometimes seen to be unclean by practitioners of Islam, so it was only natural for suspicion to be aimed in that direction. Indeed, there were several times when Igloo was with us in town and Muslim people were visibly distraught and scared about him. Krish, a Hindu, went on to further talk about the increased tensions between religions and cultures in recent years. I theorized that social media could be playing a role in dividing people in order to profit from their attention, as in other places. As he described, the problem has reached a point where many Malaysians, Chinese, and Indians often avoid eating at each other’s restaurants.

Krish also talked about how Christians are working hard to convert people to their faith, further adding tensions. The Christians seem to be converting jungle people in particular from their traditional beliefs. However, Muslims were not happy about this and began their own efforts to convert jungle people into Muslims. According to Krish, most of the jungle people just want to be left alone.

One thing I noticed about Malaysia is that many institutions normally secular in the United States are affiliated with Islam or occasionally other religions or cultures. In particular, there are many “Islamic” banks.

One interesting friend of Krish who came for an evening was a Sikh, the first person of that religion I had met. He was from Malaysia, but had lived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania for many years. He mentioned how people sometimes shouted anti-Muslim things at him in the street in the aftermath of 9/11, presumably because of his turban. He also said he voted for Trump in 2016, but now strongly dislikes him and would never vote for him again due to his broken promises.

On the final morning in Cameron Highlands, I decided to go to a breakfast buffet spot I had been eyeing. As I left the hostel, Igloo started following me. This was a Malaysian restaurant with one side being open-air so I didn’t want to have Igloo come and at best scare the Muslim people and at worst get me kicked out of the restaurant. I tried to give Igloo the slip by going around the house and out the back side. I was just about to smugly congratulate myself on outwitting the dog when all of a sudden a happy smiling Igloo was behind me, running to catch up.

Any effort to get Igloo to turn around and go back seemed to have the opposite effect so I kept on going in spite of the company. When I reached town, another dog started playing with Igloo. Seeing the opportunity, I ran across the street, through the bus station, and up a side road. I turned around and saw Igloo a ways back, still following my scent with the other dog. However, he didn’t seem to see me. I ran across a narrow bridge, through a parking lot, and fast-walked through town. I crossed the street a few times, zigzagging around, and ducked through in indoor shopping area. Finally I reached the restaurant on the opposite side of town, pretty certain that I had lost him.

I loaded up a hearty plate of rice, an eggs mix, a possible pepper dish, a possible chicken dish, and tofu. It was a very busy morning and the waiter was tied up, but eventually he came over to look at the plate and handed me a piece of paper with 8 ringgit written on it, about two dollars. I enjoyed the meal, settled the bill with the cashier, and went back to the hostel to pack my stuff.

The four hour bus ride to Kuala Lumpur as well as sweltering hot temperatures began late in the morning. We zoomed down the windy roads leading out of the mountains, seemingly quite fast. There was a 10 minute rest stop at the bottom and the remainder of the trip was on the highway. Surprisingly the four hour trip was done in three hours!

One short monorail ride and fifteen minutes of walking later, I found the Ohana Hostel. My first time high in a skyscraper, it was a novelty being on the 27th floor of the building, and the bed was a good deal at about $7.50 a night. It took a while to figure out the elevator, with various “ground floor” and “first floor” buttons to chose from.

I met a couple of Pakistani guys and we found a place to grab a bite to eat. The plate with rice, chicken, beans, and pork cabbage came out to 8 ringgit or about $2.

One of the most exciting sights in the capital was Batu Caves, not exactly an undiscovered attraction, but impressive nonetheless.

The stairway was full of mischievous monkeys accompanied by people teasing them with food in order to get funny photos or videos of the monkeys swiping the food. I stayed as far away as possible.

My laptop had been having problems lately so I brought it to a nearby mall for repair. I observed in the center of a big room a challenge the mall had. A large glass case with a hole was set up with a gold bar inside. One could pay about $75 for a chance to win the $2,500 price for getting the gold bar out in 30 seconds. While the hole was large enough for almost anyone to stick their arm in and grab the gold bar, it was not possible to yank the gold bar through conventionally with one’s fist, as the hole was too small to pull an open fist containing the gold bar through. I surmised that it would take a combination of being skinny, yet strong enough to pick up the gold bar and flip it on top of one’s arm. From there it would still be tricky, but possible to get it through. I watched with the crowd in amusement of the spectacle as several “strong” guys rolled up their sleeves to take the challenge, only to walk away sheepishly in defeat. When I returned later to pick up my laptop, I saw someone being prized the winner. Sure enough, he was a short and very skinny guy.

I switched hostels to a place called the Step-Inn Too Guesthouse. The grass always seems greener on the other side. The new hostel was in a better location and I was hoping for more of a backpacker atmosphere, as the last place mainly had people coming in and out for a night, people visiting for business or school, and people just looking for a cheap bed in the city. It turned out to be an average and unpretentious backpacker hostel run by volunteer backpackers. The wifi password had some reference to Tinder which was worth a chuckle.

I stayed a couple more days, but the reality of Kuala Lumur is that it’s just another big city. I did discover one particularly good buffet restaurant by walking around and seeing which place had the best crowd.

Eventually it was time to move on and a I caught a bus south to Malacca, alternately spelled Melaka in Malaysian. The two hour trip cost less than $3 and was in a comfortable and uncrowded coach. I never did figure out how intercity buses make money in Malaysia, especially with quite a few seats being empty. Once in Malacca, a short local bus ride later brought me to Ringos Foyer Guesthouse which turned out to be another one of the best hostels of the trip. The place combined a great atmosphere with all the essentials a traveler’s house should include, topped off with a decent breakfast. Comfortable beds, a large library, and a large rooftop social area were also part of the deal.

A free walking tour was offered one morning by the local government so a group from the hostel decided to join. We walked around various archaeological sites and learned how Malacca was first invaded by the Portuguese in the 1500’s, then taken from the Portuguese by the Dutch, next swapped to the British in exchange for another colony, occupied by Japan during World War II, briefly back to the British, and finally returned to Malaysia in 1946!

We walked around a large hill which had been the site of a fortress for many years. We also saw the oldest church in Malaysia and old colonial government buildings. There were tons of Chinese tourists milling around the center of town and a few times one of them would come over and take a picture of our group. We were all white westerners except for our Malaysian guide, and in a way it felt like being a zoo animal. Our guide mentioned that about 50 busloads of Chinese tourists come to the city per day on package tours, increasing to 100 busloads per day on weekends.

One thing quite noticeable was the bicycle rickshaws around the city geared towards tourists. Formerly a way to get around, the rickshaws of 2019 are elaborately decorated attention-attracting affairs with pink flowers, stuffed animals, and flashing lights, all while blaring pop music. The rickshaws seemed beloved by Chinese visitors regardless of their demographic, but avoided by most westerners.

Following the tour, lunch was taken at a spot recommended by our guide and we went back to the hostel to relax through the afternoon heat. Some surprisingly intense games of Uno occurred, with so much debate over the rules that we wondered if each country has its own rule book.

Late in the afternoon, a large group of about 10 or 12 people met for a sunset bike tour ride offered by the hostel. Navigating through the traffic was a bit difficult for a large group of people, but we eventually came to quieter streets and paths. The leader took us out to the Melaka Straits Mosque, commonly referred to as the floating mosque. On some days and times they allow visitors inside, but unfortunately this wasn’t one of those times, so we continued on to the ocean front for our original purpose of watching the sunset.

Following the sunset, a consensus formed to go out to dinner in the Indian district of Malacca. The bike tour leader brought us to a good restaurant and helped those of us less familiar with Indian cuisine in understanding the menu. Most of us then decided to follow tradition and eat the food with our fingers. This was my first time eating messy food with my fingers since a young age and I can’t say I was a big fan at the time, but it was worth the experience. Before leaving, I made sure to purchase a sweet on the way out. We biked back to the hostel on a beautiful path alongside the river. All in all, it was a day well spent.

The following day, a group formed to explore a history museum known as “The Stadthuys” which occupies an old colonial government building. Later, dinner was at the giant night market that covers a large part of the town every, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. On the first or second plate of the evening, I noticed the guy was slow to give me change, almost as if he was hoping I wouldn’t know what to expect back. However, I patiently waited and he gave me the rest of the change, one note at a time. I was a tad surprised since I hadn’t had any problems in Malaysia, but it didn’t really register. Ten minutes later, I experienced the most brazen scam of my seven month trip. I got a snack to top off the night at a cost of 2 ringgit. I handed the older lady a 20 ringgit note, apologizing slightly for not having smaller change. The lady put the orange banknote into her money bag and took out a red 10 ringgit note which, of course, was correct to grab. However, she then appeared to have a second realization or thought and placed the 10 ringgit note in a second compartment of her money bag and then proceeded to grab the 8 ringgit of change. Despite what seemed obvious in hindsight, I was still completely off-my-guard and didn’t have the slightest suspicion. When I was handed 8 ringgit in change, I quickly mentioned that I had given her 20. However, she went right on the offense, denying that by waving her finger and saying “no no no.” I insisted that she check to make sure. She then opened up the compartment of the money bag where she had placed the 10 ringgit note! At that point, I couldn’t be one hundred percent certain of the note I had given to her so I had to walk away. However, the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that I had been ripped off. Even though the shortchange amounted to only $2.50, that 10 ringgit probably has the same purchasing power in Malaysia for many goods as a $20 bill in the United States so I was certainly not pleased, though it was more about being taken for a fool that infuriated me.

Over the few days in Malacca, I researched the boat to Sumatra. The boat time was nine in the morning. I talked to the owner of the hostel to find out what to expect, specifically if proof of onward travel was required for immigration. He said that it wasn’t necessary and it was highly unlikely I would get asked. The ticket was very expensive, almost $100. Still, it was cheaper than a flight, but not by much.

I arrived at the boat terminal about 15 minutes early to get my ticket. Unfortunately the ticket agents wanted to see proof of onward travel to insure that I would get through immigration in Indonesia! Caught by surprise and with only 10 minutes to catch the boat, I hastily pulled out my laptop in order to buy a ticket while trying to convince them to let me board anyways. Unfortunately the wifi would not work. Finally when things were getting down to the wire, I apparently offered enough assurances that I would take responsibility if I didn’t get through and they let me board. I walked onto the fairly crowded boat and found an empty seat. The last to board and also the only apparent Westerner, we set off minutes later. I could only imagine how immigration might go at the end of the trip.

In summary, Malaysia joined Nepal as one of the top five favorite countries of the trip. At 1.5 months, it was the second longest amount of time I spent in an individual country. It was the last country where the heat itself was a major deterrent of going outside for extended periods. Along with Thailand, it was the least adventuresome country I spent a significant amount of time in, partly due to it being very far on its way to becoming a developed country.

Accolades:

Least adventuresome (tied Thailand)

Best food (tied India)

Hottest weather (tied Thailand)

Most developed* (tied Thailand)

*excludes Hong Kong and China which I only stayed 5 says in each.

Previous country: Thailand

Next country: Indonesia

Having come to the end of my 30 days in Nepal, I made my way to Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu, the only international airport in country. Check-in for the flight went smoothly and I spent most of my remaining rupees before the final round of security. This was fortunate, as it turned out there was no place to spend or change money in the waiting area. Other people I met inside were not so fortunate. One guy I met from Colombia and currently living in the United States had been detained at the airport two days before for bringing a family heirloom with about $200 worth of gold into the country. He managed to negotiate a $200 fine, but after consulting with his family, decided to bag visiting Nepal altogether and booked a flight to Japan via Bangkok.

The plane was an hour or two late, but wasted no time once it arrived and soon we were off to Bangkok. Upon arrival, immigration went smoothly with few questions and I received a stamp for 30 days.

All in all, I stayed over a week in Bangkok at a few different hostels.

I spent a few nights at the AMA Hostel in the Chinatown area of Bangkok, which included an excellent buffet breakfast. At one point I decided to check out the Chatuchak Weekend Market which had been recommended as one of the best of Bangkok’s famous markets. I looked up the directions and found that bus route 8 seemed to be a straight shot right to the market. I mentioned the plans to the receptionist and she was taken aback, telling me that it was a bad idea, not safe, and that I should take a taxi to the metro instead. I later discovered that Line 8 has its own Wikipedia page documenting a few accidents that have occurred on the route over the years.

It turned out that a local hotel owner had been enjoying the cafe at the hostel and was driving by the metro station soon anyways and would give me a lift. We started driving and as nice as he was, it quickly became apparent that he wanted to show off his new BMW. After one point when we were flying way too fast down the street, I finally put my foot down and told him that he needed to slow down. Fortunately we arrived at the metro a minute later and I hopped out, quipping that perhaps I would have been better off taking bus route 8, though I was only half joking.

The Chatuchak Market turned out to be overrated, though I grabbed some lunch and a coconut ice cream for dessert. On the way back, out of convenience I decided to ignore the advice of the hostel and hopped on a route 8 bus. The bus actually traveled very slowly and safely and was about 1/4th the cost of the metro. As I would later come to realize, local buses tend to be the slowest and safest form of bus transportation, as they prowl the streets keeping a sharp eye out for every potential passenger.

I wanted to spend a few nights near the famous Khaosan Road so I found my way to the Suneta Hostel, the last and best hostel I stayed at in Bangkok. While some may decry Khaosan Road for being notoriously loud and obnoxious and ruining Thailand, I take the position that it is better that all this occur in a single location, leaving the rest of the country unspoiled.

I made sure to stay a couple blocks away from the noisiness, and did have to admit that it was helpful having most of the vendors displaying things in English, compared to Chinatown where everything was in Chinese. In a stroke of luck, the hostel was located right within a large day market with lots of good food. An evening walk down Khaosan Road was quite an experience, with endless people trying to sell you massages, laughing gas, baked insects, suits, and more. All the vendors selling baked insects also charged a small fee for the opportunity to take a picture of their business.

On the first night at the Suneta Hostel, I became acquainted with a couple of guys from Texas on their last night in Thailand. We went out to dinner along with Tong, the manager of the hostel. Tong found a good restaurant and we sat down for the meal. One of the Texas guys ordered “very spicy” as part of his last night experience. It was a long meal for him, but he managed to finish it all in the end. For my part, I ordered just a little spicy, but perhaps it came out as normal spicy, as it was so spicy that I couldn’t even taste the flavor. With my unaccustomed taste buds, it also took me quite some time to finish it.

After the meal, we walked through Khaosan Road and the Texas guys took every opportunity to mess with the touts on the street, much to amusement of Tong and I. One of them tried the baked insects and reported that it tasted awful. Half way through the walk, a sudden rain hit and the street turned to chaos with tents being set up, goods being wheeled under roofs, and everything in transition. A few moments later, everything continued on like normal.

For much of the day, the Texas guys had been hyping up how we would have to get the famous “toasties” sold in 7-Eleven stores across Thailand. 7-Eleven dominates the Thailand convenience store market with as much as 70% of the market share and for good reason. 7-Eleven stores in Thailand are much better than their U.S. counterparts with lots of cold and hot food options, including sushi. We stopped in one on our way back to the hostel. I was advised to not get fancy and go for the basic ham and cheese on white bread toasted sandwich. This I did and the cost was about the equivalent of 1 USD. The cashier stuck the toastie on a panini press and soon I had a nice hot cheesy sandwich. It was very good of course, but it also seemed overrated and unoriginal, and I didn’t feel the need to get more of them while in Thailand.

Over the next few days I discovered various foods and especially the desserts. The desserts included mango coconut rice (Tong’s favorite), rice crispy-like things possibly with caramel, coconut fried dough, fried tofu/seaweed?, coconut tacos, banana roti, and coconut roti (roti being a staple in India and other countries, but a dessert in Thailand). Among regular foods, I had to admit that pad Thai was my favorite, though the local favorite seemed to be rice and basil along with a choice of meat.

Eventually I decided I needed to move on. I took a van a couple of hours south to Phetchaburi. The van was quite efficient and cheap, but the destination couldn’t have arrived sooner, as my legs were quite cramped. Arriving on the side of the highway, I still needed to walk about 15 minutes to the hostel. Quite a few monkeys were hanging around the road which I mostly ignored. Suddenly, a mother monkey with her baby clinging to her chest came across the street and started rushing at me, angrily screeching!

Terrified that I was being attacked, I had no idea what to do and started sprinting in the opposite direction. After about 10 or 15 seconds I turned around to see if I was still being chased. The monkey was still behind me, but had let up a bit. However, seeing that I had slowed, it renewed its chase. I quickly resumed running and luckily found a break in traffic to run across the street. For the rest of the walk to the hostel, I suspiciously viewed all the monkeys around and kept my distance as best as possible, but fortunately there weren’t any more incidents.

Later, I found out from the hostel manager that the monkey came at me because of the water bottle in my hand and thought I was carrying food. I was advised to avoid carrying things in my hands around monkeys.

That evening, the hostel manager drove me on a scooter to a nearby hill in order to enjoy the sunset.

The next day I visited a historic site called Phra Nakhon Khiri which, among other things, is home to the former summer palace of a Thai King.

Later in the evening, dinner was at a night market.

The following day I took a 10:30 train to south to Chumphon which was 45 minutes late. The ticket for the six and a half hour train journey amazingly cost only 60 baht, or a bit under $2. I greatly enjoyed third class because of the sheer number of hawkers joining the train for a couple stops and walking up and down the aisles selling all kinds of food at rock bottom prices. Such an experience would not be allowed to occur on first or second class. Fortunately it wasn’t too crowded, though I was told that third class can be at times, as seats are not assigned and there is no cap on the number of tickets that can be sold. One upper-middle-aged woman on the train had a vulgar t-shirt on that said on three lines in big letters “F— Skateboards Weed. Apparently she had no idea what the words meant, or perhaps more likely she had been told, but simply did not care since it was not in Thai. The scenery of the train journey was unspectacular and the air was dusty due to the construction of new tracks.

We made up for the lost time and arrived on schedule at 5 o’clock. The hostel for the night was a good transfer place. The next day I took the boat to Koh Tao, an island on the east coast of southern Thailand, known as an excellent cheap place to get one’s scuba diving license. It also comes with a reputation of being much more relaxing and laid back than nearby Ko Pha Ngan, famous for its spectacular full moon parties.

I began on the north side of the island at a place called Good Dream Hostel. Over the next few days I explored the island on foot and made friends with people at the hostel. Among the guests who were staying at the hostel included a group of young ladies from Toronto and a French guy named Alex. Alex had a sweet tooth, declaring that it wouldn’t be proper for a French person to not have a dessert after dinner, so we made routine trips to a Dairy Queen which happened to be close by. This was my first time eating from a U.S. chain while on the road. However, it seemed justified because ice cream is frequently enjoyed by Thai people, and the ice cream was both cheaper and better than the local options.

The hostel also had a ping pong table which resulted in frequent evening sessions involving the hostel staff, their buddies, Alex, and I. I beat one Thai guy in our first match up, but then managed to lose every other game. Alex fared no better. It was difficult to get properly warmed up, as games were short and the winner kept playing until someone beat him. This meant that the person riding a win streak was always far more warmed up.

After enjoying the trails and the beach of the north side of the island, I spent the last few days on the south side of the island.

At the end of my stay I took a night boat back to the mainland. It was a rusty old tub, but the passenger area was quite nice, if basic. Two floors with beds for 125 people each were highly underutilized, as there was only about 20 passengers on this particular night. The waves really rocked the boat at the beginning, but the sea calmed down after an hour or two. The boat engine was quite loud, especially at the back of the boat with my ear down to the pillow, but I managed a few hours of sleep. The cost of the ticket was 600 baht or a tad under $20.

Upon disembarking in Surat Thani, I took a songthaew to the train station, located inconveniently far away from the city center. However, the train conveniently left at 6:20 am and once again the cost for a 6 hour journey was a bargain at only 59 baht or slightly less than $2. The train arrived in Hat Yai at around 12:15 and I found my way to the hostel. The city was nice, but the stay was relatively uneventful and the next day I took the 2 pm train to the Malaysian border.

Curiously, the train ticket for the 55 minute ride cost 60 baht, not the extreme value of the other train tickets. The journey was through a relatively sparsely populated area and there was only one stop along the way. Upon arrival, we stopped at the Thai side for some passengers to disembark and then went right on across the boundary. We got out at a seemingly fairly low security platform. After 25 days in the country, I got the exit stamp on my passport.

Final Thoughts

As of the time of writing on October 9th, Thailand has been the country I got the least out of. This certainly has to do with me visiting the southern part of the country where there is a lot of emphasis on beaches, and the heat of the season was quite punishing. The heat was more intense in Thailand and Malaysia then any other places I have been to since, though this is partly by design. I was also overly conservative on the street food, eating only things that were cooked on the spot while excluding food that had been sitting around for an undetermined period of time.

Previous country: Nepal

Next country: Malaysia

Introduction

Inspired by family trips to the United States southwest and Iceland along with school geology trips to Newfoundland, Ireland, and Scotland, I dreamed for several years of taking a long term trip abroad. In December 2018 I finally acquired a one way plane ticket to Nepal. From that point on I began seriously assembling all the gear I needed along with making what few trip plans needed to be made.

The excitement grew as the departure date came closer and closer. I said goodbye to my Pitney Bowes co-workers on Friday April 12th and drove back to Maine. Following a nice week with my family, the day finally came for me to depart on April 21st.

What follows is an abridged version of my journal entries.

30 Days in Nepal

My flight departed Portland at 5:46 PM for Philadelphia where I switched to a 13 hour Qatar Airways flight to Doha. I was very happy to get an entire row of three seats to myself. In Qatar I had an 8 hour layover. Walking around the airport at 10 o’clock at night, I was surprised to see a gold place with 8 employees dressed to the dime in suits and ties attending to one customer. Everyone in the airport was dressed extremely well and many luxury goods were for sale, including exotic cars. The flight to Kathmandu, originally scheduled to leave 6 hours earlier, left after midnight due to night construction at Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu. Overall, the beginning of the first flight to the end of the last flight took nearly 30 hours.

Arriving in Kathmandu at a little past 8 in the morning, we walked off the plane and across the tarmac to the airport where I filled out the visa application, paid the visa fee, went through immigration, went through a quick security check, grabbed my backpack, and walked past customs. My friend-of-a-friend and proprietor of a travel agency, Anish, was waiting to pick me up as planned. We stopped by a trekking office to get the necessary permits and I went to the hotel in Thamel, the tourist district. After recuperating a bit, I ventured out to look around and take care of some errands. I was quickly overwhelmed by the chaotic nature of the city. There were no sidewalks to walk on, motorcycles were zooming by extremely fast, and many shopkeepers called you into their stores the moment you made eye contact. The air on the streets was extremely dusty and I even got a few sudden bloody noses over the course of my two day stay. At one point a monkey or a bird got electrocuted by touching a transformer. Of course the scene was only dramatic for someone not used to travelling in Asia, not necessarily for a seasoned backpacker.

Perhaps the area where my status as a rookie traveler was most clear was dealing with the touts and scam artists. It was impossible to walk longer than a minute or two without being approached. Most of the solicitors were storekeepers trying to get me into their shops or agents commissioned by travel agencies trying to get me to sign up for their tour or trek. However, I was also approached to buy trinkets, flutes, marijuana, and to come visit their art school/gallery (scam). Though I quickly recognized all cases as disingenuous , I originally had a difficult time politely ending conversations with the solicitors. The reality turned out to be that there was no polite way to deal with the solicitors, especially once the conversation started. I went from 10 minute never-ending conversations at the beginning to becoming very good at dealing with the touts by the end of the trip by simply putting my hand up and shaking my head “no” while walking past. I do want to emphasize that the touts and scam artists were entirely confined to the tourist areas, mainly in Kathmandu. Even Pokhara, the “tourism capital of Nepal,” had far fewer touts.

Overwhelmed, I did one errand at a time before taking refuge back in my room. Anish helped me with a few other trek preparations as well. I made it until 7 or 8 PM and went to bed.

Early the second morning a little after 6, I felt a nearby 4.8 earthquake which was by far the strongest I have ever felt. It lasted about 10 seconds and little harm was done other than disturbing many dogs and birds who started barking and squawking all at once.

I did not get any pictures of Kathmandu on the first two days, as taking out the camera would have shouted “new guy” to the touts.

Beginning of the Trek

On the morning of the third day, I departed Kathmandu with Anish’s driver and a Japanese tourist doing a different trek. Anish was sending his jeep over to Pokhara in advance of one of his trekking groups returning, so we got a good deal for the trip. It took an hour or two to get out of Kathmandu due to traffic. At some point mid-afternoon we arrived in Dumre where I switched to the bus. Early evening, I arrived in Besi Sahar, the beginning of the Annapurna Circuit.

The next day, I departed late morning after taking care of a few things. The scenery was nice, but not overly remarkable and I didn’t see any other trekkers on the trail. This was likely due to the fact that many people on tighter schedules jeep or bus higher up to begin their trek.

Tired by the heat and the hike, I ended the first day mid-afternoon in Bhulbhule.

After a little while, I walked around the village and met some neighbors who welcomed me onto their porch. Though varying levels of English were spoken, one very nice guy was a trekking guide and we chatted about various subjects. Tea was served. After a while, I went back to the guest house and found that 3 young ladies had stopped there for the night as well. They were Hélène of Ontario, Hannah of Australia, and Geo of Spain. We talked for a while, had dinner, and made plans for the next day.

The next morning we took breakfast at 6 and were on the trail soon after. The day was a long one, almost 12 hours of hiking. Some sections were trails and other sections on roads.

Eventually we finished the day in Chyamche. The day was comparable to walking along a long Yosemite Valley. Capturing the towering height of the cliffs in a single photo was always a challenge.

The next morning we took another 6 AM breakfast and set off for long day. The scenery was spectacular. Some areas could be described as comparable to the world in the movie Avatar.

In Bagarchhap, I said goodbye to Hélène, Hannah, and Geo , as I preferred to go at a more leisurely pace, hiking fewer hours per day.

The next morning, I started off strong, ascended to Timang in a couple hours. However, I began to feel light-headed from the altitude so I wrapped up for the day early in Thanchowk. The elevation was about 8,700 feet. The highlight of the guesthouse was certainly the cooking; the food was excellent with generous portions.

The following day was a very short one due to the altitude. I made my way up to Chame and stopped early, still feeling the altitude a bit. I began to realize though that I needed to push the boundaries a bit in order to further acclimate, so the next day, the 1st of May, I climbed up about 1,550 feet to about 10,500 feet and stopped in Dhikur Pokhari.

The next day I started off, planning for a long day.

On a steep climb up to Ghyaru, I met and joined Whitney, Tom, and Josie, a group of young people from California and England. Once we reached the village we took lunch and in an amazing coincidence, Whitney met someone who had been to her same high school one year ahead of her.

With the 12,150 foot altitude pushing treeline, the dominant building material of Ghyaru and all following villages noticeably changed from wood to stone.

The next few hours to Ngawal was one of the most scenic sections of the trek.

With two consecutive days of large climbs reaching 12,000 feet in Ngawal, I had difficulty sleeping that night due to what I later learned was interval breathing. In short, there were a few times throughout the night where I stopped breathing for a short periods of seconds only to wake up gasping for breath. This is actually a fairly common problem and is not a warning sign of a more serious issue. Fortunately, the next day’s itinerary called for actually descending in altitude a bit to Manang, one of the largest villages along the trek. Per the general recommendations, the plan was to spend two nights there in order to help with the acclimatization process.

We settled into our guesthouse in Manang. After enjoying some pastries from a bakery, the first semi-decent bakery we had encountered during the trek, we went to the free altitude safety talk held daily. A doctor from New Zealand gave a very good presentation about Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS), High-Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE), and High-Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE). HACE is the more advanced version of AMS on a spectrum while HAPE occurs indepently. AMS is not serious and characterized by a headache and a few other possible symptoms. The treatment is to stop ascending and wait for the symptoms to disappear. About 50% of trekkers going over Thorung La Pass experience some symptoms of AMS. HACE is caused by swelling of the brain and the main treatment is to descend. HAPE is caused by fluid in the lungs and likewise, the main treatment is to descend. It was also mentioned that the overall amount of oxygen in the air at the pass is about 50% of what is present at sea level. Following the talk, anyone interested could have their oxygen and pulse taken for a small fee. My oxygen was 88 (better than the target of 85) and my pulse was 93 (also described as good for the circumstances).

The next day, day 9 on the circuit, was the rest day. Overall I felt fairly crummy due to the altitude and loafed around for most of the day. That evening I began taking Acetazolamide (Diamox) to treat the altitude and the following morning I felt somewhat improved.

Manang marked the end of the jeep road and the electrical grid. Above Manang all goods must be carried by hand or animal and the little electricity available was provided by solar panels.

We made a solid day of trekking, quickly rising to Gunsang. With spectacular views along much of the way we continued onto Yak Kharka.

We took a late lunch in Yak Kharka (13,200 feet). In order to stay within the 300 to 500 meters of ascent per day guidelines, I said goodbye to Whitney, Tom, and Josie and settled for the night in “Yak.” The others had already recently trekked to Everest Base Camp which meant they were already somewhat acclimated to the higher altitude. That night was one of the more memorable ones, as there was a Chinese group, 2 German middle aged buddies, a couple of pilgrims from India, and a number of Nepali guides and porters. Interesting conversations were had and a few songs were sung.

The next morning I started off trekking with the Germans, but planned a very short day to Ledar (13,900 feet) to compensate for the fairly large climb the day before. The guesthouse I stayed at was fairly large, but also somewhat dilapidated in parts and easily had the least comfortable mattress so far.

However, seemingly entirely by chance, the guesthouse was full of 20 and 30 somethings which created a fun social atmosphere. The California couple, one of which had been to the same high school as Whitney, showed up later and we ended up playing some cards along with a two other people. I taught them the game of Rat which they enjoyed.

The next day I trekked to Thorung Phedi (14,850 feet) with the California couple which passed through some rock slide areas. Though it only took a few hours, I said goodbye after lunch in Thorung Phedi in order to be conservative with the altitude.

The place in Thorung Phedi had a nicer the normal restaurant. I spent most of the day lying down and reading, as the altitude was making me tired. Once again the beds were extremely uncomfortable and crooked. I put both mattresses on the same bed, but it didn’t seem to help much. I had a difficult time dozing off thanks in part to a mouse running around at various periods throughout the night. However, I managed a few hours of sleep. In the morning, I put my shoes on only to find a walnut in my shoe! When I payed the bill, I mentioned the episode and the lady laughed, saying she thought she remembered one of my neighbors having a bag of walnuts. She also said that the guesthouse follows Buddhist custom of not killing animals, as “they were here before us.” While Hinduism, the dominant religion of Nepal, was widespread on the lower reaches of the trek, the Tibetan influence was very noticeable beginning about halfway up, with Buddhism becoming very apparent.

Following breakfast, I began the ascent to Thorung High Camp (16,000 feet). Though a sizable climb, distance wise it was very close so I made moderate, but steady progress and arrived in less than 2 hours.

The water supply at High Camp was located in a big black plastic tub and looked filthy. However, faced with 250 rupee bottles of water ($2.25), I drank it anyways after watching several other trekkers hesitatingly do the same. The taste wasn’t as bad as it looked. Of course this was put through my filter, though the filter mainly removes bacteria and other microorganisms, not necessarily sediments. As the day went on, the place filled up with more travelers and I made friends with a few including a guy from Kingston, Ontario. Of the two Canadians I had met on the trek, both were from the same city in Ontario! I also played cards with a few Israelis, a nationality well represented on the trek. After dinner, a guide was offering to test everyone’s oxygen so I took the test. The oxygen was 80 and the pulse was 73, good considering the circumstances. I’m not sure why the pulse actually decreased from Manang. Perhaps the reason was that I had rested for 10 hours at High Camp compared to a shorter amount of time before the Manang pulse reading. Following the example of a number of guided groups I overheard, I ordered an especially hearty breakfast for 4:30 AM the next morning, as the weather is most favorable early on. By 8 or 9 o’clock the place was very quiet and I went to bed early ahead of the big day.

I was very happy to get up at 4:15 the next morning because I hadn’t slept the entire night. The moment I relaxed in bed I got behind on breathing and had to consciously gasp for breath to catch up. Though unsettling, difficulty breathing and sleeping are a normal occurrence at high altitudes and not specifically a symptom of altitude sickness. As I was perfectly fine while awake, I didn’t hesitate to head for the pass. Breakfast at 4:30 was a bustling scene. I was on the trail before 5.

This section of the hike was by far the coldest due to the altitude and especially the lack of sunlight. For the first time I used my jacket and gloves and my hands were still very cold. I kept a medium, but steady pace. At around 6:30 the sun came up over the mountains to the east greatly improving the comfort level of the air temperature.

At about 7:30 in the morning, I suddenly reached Thorang-La Pass (17,769 feet)!

I spent half an hour at the pass enjoying the moment. The weather was clear and calm and it was a thrill to achieve the pass after 2 weeks of working towards it. A tea house was also present serving drinks and some food, which a few people went for.

Following the enjoyment of the pass, I started descending, meeting up with the Kingston, Ontario guy.

Eventually I got ahead of the Ontario guy and cruised down on my own. By around 1 o’clock I reached Muktinath, specifically the village of Ranipauwa. As I found out, the town is a very important religious site for both Buddhists and Hindus, and tens of thousands make a pilgrimage there every year. So many pilgrims that despite being on the Annapurna Circuit, over half of foreigners to visit the village are from India.

The village was somewhat chaotic from an outsider perspective. Dozens of pilgrims from India and elsewhere made there way on horses through the streets up to a temple. A few people were carried through the streets on stretchers for unclear reasons. When I entered the village, a man dressed in a religious outfit with no shirt on started shouting religious chants. I took lunch in a restaurant and then found a tea house (between the many hotels). The tea house ended up being one of the nicest of the trek.

Perhaps the best part was the shower. It was the best shower of my entire 30 days in Nepal and also the first one I had in a week, since Dhikur Pokhari. By Dhikur Pokhari it had been becoming too cold and uncomfortable dealing with low pressure showers of inconsistent warmth. A group of three other guys were staying in the guesthouse so we enjoyed dinner together (pizza) and talked a bit.

The next day I decided to spend another night in Muktinath. Following that, I started out on what would be my last leg of the trek to Jomson.

Not long after Lupra, I met and began trekking with a guy from Oregon named Jodi who was a habitual traveler. Continuing on downwards, the weather took a turn for the worse and we were hit by some somewhat strong winds. In parts of Nepal, moderate or strong winds occur every afternoon thanks to the large mountain shadows which create imbalances of cool and warm air. We were also greeted with a drizzle of rain and it looked like we were going to get caught in a downpour, though we ended up being spared.

Eventually we found a place to stay in Jomson (9,000 feet). Though not the formal end point of the Annapurna Circuit, I decided to end my trek there. Neither of us ordered chicken, but our eyebrows were raised at dinner when we saw them bring a live chicken into the kitchen. Bus tickets were purchased to Pokhara for about $10 and the next morning we waited for the 7 AM bus which was about 20 minutes late. The next 10 hours were sheer misery with constant bumpiness everywhere except for momentary pauses on the few bridges. There were more than a few moments where I experienced air time. There were also a few places where it was unpleasant to look out the window and see the large cliff drop offs down to the river we were next to, but it could have been worse and fortunately our driver seemed like a good one. At one point a man brought a goat on board for an hour or two.

Difficult as it was for the passengers, the goat hated the ride even more. Eventually I arrived in Pokhara and found the Pokhara Backpackers Hostel, located on the edge of the tourist Lakeside District. I spent 5 nights at the hostel, which had a good breakfast and a variety of travelers staying.

Overall, I enjoyed Pokhara far more than Kathmandu thanks to its quieter and more laid back vibe, less dusty air, far fewer solicitors, and overall better infrastructure. It almost seemed like a larger version of Oak Bluffs or York Beach to a certain extent, having a beach town vibe.

Following Pokhara, I spent three more nights in Kathmandu, this time a mile or two away from Thamel, and enjoyed it much more than when I first arrived. The highlight was certainly going to the famous Monkey Temple.

On May 22nd, my 30th day in Nepal, I boarded an afternoon flight to Bangkok, Thailand on Thai Lion Air.

Other Notes

In no particular order, here are a few other notes about the trip.

• The main Nepali dish is Dal Bhat and consists of white rice (bhat), lentils (dal), vegetable curry, and often a few other things. The dish is all-you-can-eat so I frequently ordered it for lunch. Many Nepalese people eat the dish twice a day everyday.
• For the trek, I avoided all meat except tuna fish from the can. This seemed to be the advice most people were following due to food quality concerns.
• Menus on the trek all seemed very similar and contained somewhat westernized rice, pasta, and potato options. However, meals were often prepared differently than in the west. Though the food was good, by the end of the trek I must admit I was pretty tired seeing similar menus everywhere and was also craving meat.
• Despite occasionally thinking otherwise for a short time, I was never able to find a guest house where at least one amenity wasn’t compromised that might normally be expected. Here is my checklist I put together over the course of the trek of less obvious considerations to check before committing to a room:
  • Feel mattress for comfort
  • Check location/cleanliness of bathroom
  • Presence of hot shower at low to medium elevations
  • Electrical outlet in room, if needed?
• In order to not present a sugar-coated version of the trip, here is a partial list of some of the “compromises:”
  • Besi Sahar – banged head on low door a number of times
  • Bhulbhule – fire safety concern, constantly banging head on short doors and ceilings.
  • Chyamche – hard mattress
  • Thanchowk – bathroom downstairs across the street, boiling hot shower, dogs barking at night (best food of the trek, though)
  • Chame – obnoxiously loud group of Russians up till 11 at night
  • Manang – comparatively expensive food prices to other places, tight room, dogs barking at night
  • Ledar – extremely uncomfortable mattress
  • Thorung Phedi – very uncomfortable mattresses, mouse running around at night
  • Thorung High Camp – filthy water, mouse running around at night
• The altitude was a challenge and not pleasant. For the week or so at fairly high elevations, I usually felt tired and somewhat crummy overall.
• To further avoid “sugarcoating” the trip, boredom did occur on short trekking days and I did get a slightly queasy stomach for the last two days in Kathmandu.
• The trek was affordable, with only a few days coming to more than $20 for food and a bed. Prices were less at lower elevations and increased at higher elevations. Room cost and purchases in shops were usually negotiable, while restaurants usually had menus with prices. Of course prices were in Nepali rupees instead of dollars which is like comparing apples to oranges. While prices might seem cheap to a U.S. citizen thanks to the exchange rate, the price might not be cheap for a Nepalese citizen.
• The driving took some time getting used to, as things are far less organized than the west, but it all seemed to flow fairly well (except in traffic jams) and everything always worked out in the end. I never got behind the wheel, though.

Conclusion

Visiting Nepal for a month was an experience I’ll never forget and I’m very glad I did it. That being said, I must admit that by the end of the thirty days I was looking forward to moving on to Thailand, a much more developed country.

Next country: Thailand

Followed by 3) Malaysia 4) Indonesia 5) Sri Lanka 6) India