Le Fin.

The final sunset of my RTW trip.

Last Leap Of Faith (Day 180)

Today is the last day I’ll wake up in the sticky-sweet embrace of this journey. This life changing adventure. This around the friggin’ world trip. Today. And tomorrow I will return to my old lover, San Francisco. I wonder if he’ll look different, if his scent has changed, if I’ll view him in a new light.

It’s hard not to think back to day one, sitting in the airport lobby, wondering if I could really do it alone. If I’d spent my entire savings on the right thing. (That would be a resounding YES.)

But how have I only traveled for half a year? In travel years it must be seven. Each day and place has been a gift. Even the days that brought loneliness, sickness and fear. Those moments had beautiful lessons, too.

I suppose the journey doesn’t stop here in Thailand. Or once I return to the States. Or even after I find myself back inside the walls of a cubical.

All the skills, connections and love will travel back with me. They’ll be right there, baby-cakes, evolving with me.

With each sunrise I’ll remember how that same sun greeted me in the wee morning party hours in Argentina. The same rays that warmed the earth outside my tent in Africa. The same light that beat beads of sweat down my back in India. And the same setting sun that cast palm-shaped shadows on my bungalow in Thailand.

And with each new day, I’ll know - that the person I am - is better because of this trip.

"And you? When will you begin that long journey into yourself?" - Rumi

Slice of Life: On The Longtail

Poda Island, Thailand

Baptism By Salt

It's definitely a shock to the system to go from 50F degree bustling, intense, curry filled northern India to 85F degree tropical, relaxed, coconut filled southern Thailand. You can feel your whole being take a long, deep exhalation.

Tonsai feels a bit dreamy, like you've woken up in a postcard. The scenery looks fake; huge limestone carsts emerge like giant fins from the turquoise waters. It's as if the gods took a handful of rocks and flicked them into the sea, letting them slice like daggers through the ocean and land where they may. And on the faces of these gorgeous boulders climb gorgeous creatures. Men and women, from all over the globe, scale these massive formations all day long, dangling like dancing spiders.

After just a few days, my friends and I already have an evening ritual. Gather near the Freedom Bar at golden hour and watch the sun exit stage-right to make way for the stars. I feel closer to the earth, here, in Thailand. In India I felt a closer connection to the mind and spirit. But this place carves a natural space to feel life's physical pleasures. It's easy and fun to beat up your body with climbing, swimming, hiking, snorkeling, eating, drinking, dancing and staying up late. It feels good to be salty and sweaty, like you've truly earned that cold shower each night.

I'm happy that I'm ending my journey here, in this mystical place full of magical people. It feels right to spend my trip's final days with cheerful locals and fellow adventurers - swimming in the ocean and swaying in hammocks under the palms.

Being baptized, each day, by the salty sea.

Slice of Life: On The Rocks

Tonsai, Thailand

Slice of Life: Sawatdee

Tonsai and Railay, Thailand

CHAPTER 4:

THAILAND.

Namaste (Goodbye India!)

Holy cow, India, you kicked my ass.

It's cliche to say that I feel changed. But I do. I mean, that's why one travels to India in the first place, no? If Argentina caressed my body and Africa touched my heart - then you, you India, socked me in the soul.

I saw so much and so little. From the sticky embrace of Kerala to the chaotic crush of Delhi. I explored you via plane, train, taxi, rickshaw, boat, scooter, bicycle and foot. But the real miles I crossed were within. You exhausted me. You invigorated me. I am lighter and heavier at the same time.

I want to thank you for hitting me in the gut - so I could fall, summon my courage and stand up a stonger person.

Namaste.

Slice of Life: A Roof With A View

Varanasi, India

Here and Now

Four weeks and one odd curry-filled Christmas later, I find myself in the heart of madness: Varanasi. They call it the holiest city in India. I call it the fece-ist city in India. It's the type of place that even the savviest world traveler can feel lost and humbled to.

The city hugs the spiritual Ganges river. A place where you see dead bodies burning and people bathing just 75 meters away from each other. The place has a soul of it's own - betelnut spit stains the street a blood red, you break your cup of chai on the pavement after you finish drinking it. It’s cold and loud and pushy and vibrant. But the sights and sounds make you feel present, it reminds you that you are here and it is now.

And because of this you feel grateful, especially to Ganesha - the destroyer of obstacles, for letting you see and feel the beauty past the constant chaos.

Slice of Life: Maya Devi

Varanasi, India

Baptism By Ganesha

Stepping onto a city street in India is like being punched in the face. Hit in the nose with the smell of curry and cumin, the eyes with reds and purples on the women's saris and the ears with the honking of a hundred rickshaw horns. You better have your senses ready for a good fight cause India is quick and clever and taken down many a traveler before you.

I start my journey just like all travelers to India do: a mango lassi followed by two days of chronic diarrhea. Welcome to India, lady, namaste. I make my way south to Kerala to a meditation and yoga ashram on a quest for enlightenment. Or at least a glimpse of it. My days begin at 5:30am and are filled with chanting, silent meditation, yoga asanas, breathing exercises, classes, and two vegetarian meals per day. The best part: you yoga clothes, essentially pajamas, all day long. The retreat hosts about 75 others from all over the globe. One night I find myself sharing tea with an Iranian, Columbian, Israeli and Briton - and that's not the start of a bad joke.

Since the center takes care of everything for you, you have no time to distract yourself with work or errands - you start to see people's real feelings come to the surface. Their fears, insecurities, frustrations, joys and tears. It can be ugly, it can be lovely, but mainly it's just open. Open to whatever comes up. But this is why you came, right, to go deeper.

The Hindu god that I feel the most drawn to is Ganesha, the elephant god, the Destroyer of Obstacles. He’s the "gateway god", the Hindu god that you try once and get hooked to try others. If you're gonna go on a journey into the crunchy parts of yourself, you're gonna want Ganesha by your side - wielding his mighty trunk through your ego's B.S.

Slice of Life: My Darjeeling Limited

Uttar Pradesh, India

Quote: Amma's Love

Hug from a saint? Check. I just visited Amma's ashram and received her famous hug. She really does have "it", that sparkle in her eye, that feeling of coming home.

"The common expression is 'I love you.' But instead of 'I love you,' it would be better to say, 'I am love.' Remove the I and you, and you will find that there is only love. It is as if love is imprisoned between the I and you. Take out the I and you, for they are unreal; they are self-imposed walls that don't exist. The gulf between I and you is the ego. When the ego is removed, the distance disappears and the I and you also disappear. They merge to become one - and that is love."

- Amma (Mata Amritanandamayi Devi)

Slice of Life: Christmas Day Chai

Kerala, India

Slice of Life: Yellow & Plaid

Kerala, India

Don't Forget To Breathe

I've now taken up residence at the Sivananda Yoga and Meditation Ashram in south India. It's essentially Hippie Bootcamp. We wake up to a bell at 5:30AM for our daily satsang of meditation and chanting. 

I'm starting to get used to this Pavlov dog routine: bell - wake, bell - chant, bell - eat, bell - yoga, bell - meditate. The silent meditation is a challenge but I feel like I'm getting more adept each day. At least for five seconds at a time. Om it, sistah, om shanti. 

Slice of Life: Arrivals Gate

Trivandrum, India

Quote: There is a Thread ...

I commenced my two+ weeks at the yoga ashram. I keep thinking of this quote:

"There is a thread from the heart to the lips where the secret of life is woven. Words tear the thread but in the silence the secrets speak."

- RUMI

Slice of Life: The Queen's Necklace

Mumbai, India

CHAPTER 3:

INDIA.

Asante Sana (Goodbye Africa!)

One last sunset across the Serengeti and then I will leave this magnificent land. Thank you, Africa, for lifting up your skirt to the knee - just enough to reveal a small glimpse of your immense beauty. I had no idea stars could look like that.

Thank you for the sincerest smiles I've ever seen. For showing me how utterly raw this planet still is. For teaching me how to dodge hippos, wash my clothes in rain water and make fresh coconut milk. But most of all, thank you for letting me share some love and kindness with your beautiful children.

Asante sana.

Slice of Life: Free Fall

Stonestown, Zanzibar

Baptism By Heartstrings

No need for an alarm clock, I wake up to the mosque’s call to prayer “Allah, Hayalahhh” followed by dogs howling, followed by a rooster crowing. It’s 5:00AM - Welcome to Arusha, Tanzania.

Arusha is gritty and defiant and she doesn’t give a damn if you catch her picking her nose. That’s right, sister. The town pulses with a sort of primal sass. And no matter how much you try to act like a local, you cannot and will not fit in, regardless of color. I hear 'Jambo Muzungu' alot, which basically means 'Hey Whitey'. I sense annoyance of my presence at times. I get marriage proposals. The kids like to touch my hair.

I live in a house with two other volunteers. There are cement walls around the compound, two guards, a cook and a driver. In many ways it's fantastic but it feels strange to live this way, there are people living in tiny one-room homes just meters away. I carry a large packet of guilt in my pocket.

My volunteer placement is at a preschool with kids. Some are HIV positive, some not but all are angels/demons. One second they are running to you, arms outstretched, in search of a hug. And the next they are biting each other. The school is a room in a tiny home made of concrete. I teach in my bare feet. It's humbling. My favorite time is when they take their porridge break, the cups look so big in their little hands.

A few afternoons a week I volunteer at Cradle of Love, an orphanage for babies. For two hours you can play and care for up to 35 orphaned babies. And have your heart broken and filled, broken and filled over and over again. The warmth that these tiny souls give - it burns a happy little hole into your heart.

So, yes, a part of me thought that I'd make a difference. And maybe I did for an afternoon for one child for one moment. But I did learn that we should give a little something back - in someway, anyway. Volunteer for a day, donate to a cause, sponsor a kid, smile at a stranger. Pull at someone else's heartstrings and yours will be pulled back.

Quote: Often I Feel ...

Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am. There is no mystery about why this should be so. Stripped of your ordinary surroundings, your friends, your daily routines, your refrigerator full of your food, your closet full of your clothes -- with all this taken away, you are forced into direct experience. Such direct experience inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience. That's not always comfortable, but it is always invigorating.

- MICHAEL CRICHTON, TRAVELS

Slice of Life: Tally Me Banana

Arusha, Tanzania

African Queen

Now THIS is Africa. I’m off the overland tour and volunteering with children at a preschool in Arusha. The woman, Anna, that operates the school is HIV positive, has six children of her own and two adopted kids. Her husband and sister died of AIDS. She is strong and spirited - a real African queen.

The school is essentially a tiny concrete room in her home. It's warm and cold at the same time - we teach in our bare feet. I am out of my element as "Teacher Nico", it's a whole new world to be in front of 12 sets of big brown eyes reciting the alphabet. It's challenging and exhausting and invigorating all at the same time. I have a whole new respect for real teachers.

I'm eager to see how this time unfolds and hope I can give even just a little bit back.

Slice of Life: Elephant Crossing

Botswana, Africa

Heart of Darkness

I've only lived in Tanzania for two weeks but here are some imprints of the beautiful people and norms here.

Jambo Muzungu! - This is what I hear 30 times per day. It basically means Hey Whitey! and is often times accompanied with a giggle.

Dala Dala - The local transportation system. Essentially a large van, room for 12 yet accommodates 22. But feels like 42. I've twice had live chickens under my feet. Stepping out of it is like being birthed from the womb.

Pig Noise - Many people, especially women, made a grunting slash pig sound to clear their throats. It's a bit startling but mostly funny.

Chipati - Similar to a savory pancake. There is something so satisfyingly primal about eating with your hands.

Dancing - Just. Amazing. Witnessing some of the moves in the local bars is like watching a professional dance show. I had no idea a booty could shake vertically like that.

PDA - You will never see a male/female couple holding hands but you will see male friends walking hand in hand or arm in arm. It's cute.

It's raw here and it's like watching life in the third person at times.

Slice of Life: Three Girls

Malawi, Africa

Baptism by Pula

They say Africa gets under your skin. I'm still figuring out if that's bad like a splinter or good like a perfume. I think it's a bit of both. Africa is raw. It’s huge and heavy and real. It reminds you that you're human. It strips away the comforts and leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed. But it makes you feel stronger because of this.

I've slept in a tent, back against the red earth, for 18 of the past 21 nights. I've been a rider on an overland tour that's taken me from Johannesburg, South Africa to Arusha, Tanzania. There are 14 others, mainly British and I'm the solo American. I hear “Yay Obama” a lot. In Buenos Aires I would go to bed at 5am but now I greet the sun from the other side. Tent packed and fed by 6am - I have twice eaten cereal under the stars. The drives are long and the showers cold, we are dirty and smelly and bruised. But we are smiling. I've been kissed with freckles by the sun.

A hippo visited our campsite the first night. He casually chomped on grass for two hours while we watched in fear and awe. This is not a zoo, there are no fences or guards, you are part of the food chain. One day we had to stop in the middle of the highway to let an elephant cross the road. An elephant. This land is wild.

In Botswana the currency is called pula - rain and the coins are called thembe - raindrops. Rain is a precious as money. I've had my fair share of it these days, setting up tents while soaked to the skin – wet and muddy but laughing.

Africa is intense and each day reveals something new. The wild animals remind you that you're fragile. The smiles remind you of what you have. And the night stars remind you that you're not alone.

Slice of Life: Mirror

Botswana, Africa

Hungry Hungry Hippos

Our first night of camping in Africa ... had a visitor.

TIA: This Is Africa

I once had a farm in Africa. Okay, no. But I've always wanted to say that.

No matter what it is – the rain, a late bus, a canceled tour, an upset stomach, increased prices – the excuse is the same: This Is Africa. It’s like a communal and continental acceptance.

I’ve only had a small slice of Africa’s pie but this is what I’ve noticed so far.

South Africa: is sprinkled with purple trees called jacarandas. So big and bright the flowers litter the street like confetti. They belong in a Dr. Suess book.

Botswana: the currency is called pula - rain and the coins are called thembe -raindrops. Because rain is as precious as money. Raindrops in your pockets.

Zambia: the people here seem to smile from their soul, it shines right through their eyes and burns a happy hole into your heart.

Malawi: is humbling, many people live in small homes made of wood and mud. Kids walk around barefoot. Their eyes are deep and dark and poetic.

Tanzania: has it’s own sky. It’s where the gods try out new colors, new sunsets and new constellations. The heavens feel a bit closer here.

Africa is a beast of a continent but it’s a beautiful one.

Slice of Life: Pride

Kruger Park, South Africa

CHAPTER 2:

AFRICA.

Adios Amor (Goodbye Argentina!)

A wink of Cupid's eye and my three months in Argentina has come to it's final day. It's been an amazing 12 weeks: sampled the Malbec nectar of the gods, sipped the bitter leaves of yerba mate, carried across the tango floor, exchanged Spanish small talk with the locals, partied until the sunrise kissed my face, captured 1,000 photos and witnessed the postcard perfect images of Iguazu and Patagonia.

I'll sneak out of this city at the wee hours like a lover slipping out of an early bed. I leave quietly and with some sadness. This place and the people in it were an absolute gift on my journey, making a sometimes hectic place feel like home. A warm embrace into the world of travel and it gave me trust in the unknown. I already miss you. My bags are packed and I now head east into the African sun.
But you've got a piece of mi corazon Buenos Aires. And you always will.

Slice of Life: Mis Amigos

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Buenos Aires 101

Land. Jet lag. See the Casa Rosada. Trip on sidewalk. Eat empanadas. Eat steak. Drink Malbec. Dance. Find apartment with other foreigners. Make local Argentine friends. Drink more Malbec. Take Spanish classes. Sound stupid. Dance more. Listen to music in the Park. Get shoulder checked in San Telmo. Try Yerba Matte. Try Fernet y Cola. Hate it. Try it again. Still hate it. Love how "Y" sounds like "Sh". Take the Subte. Get lost. Date a Porteno. See the inside of a 'telo. Go dancing until you see the sunrise. Have locals actually understand (some of) your Spanish. Have an asado. Talk with an older Porteno. Learn what "quilombo" means and use it often. Smile. Fall in love with a whole culture. Support the madres de plazo de mayo. Make fun of the mullets. Start thinking the mullets look kinda hot. Contemplate growing a mullet. Take the train to Tigre. Try to find ground pepper. Rent a bicycle. Get lost. Learn what "Rollingos" are. Heart the cheek kiss. Learn the Argentine hand gestures. Watch a Bocca Junior game. Realize that the Boca Junior fans are the craziest mofos you've ever seen. Take a Tango class. Look stupid. Take a walk through Park Palermo on a Sunday. Wish you had a big latin family. Be alone. Be with friends. Be with a lover. Be alone again. Take disco naps. Take pictures. See Bomba de Tiempo. Step in dog poop. Almost get run over by a car. Feel truly alive. Fall in deeper love with the city. Leave a piece of your heart here.

Slice of Life: Gemelos

San Telmo, Buenos Aires

Quote: When You Travel ...

I feel as though I've really been living this ...

"When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the art of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you do not understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child just out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favours from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life. At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive."

- PAULO COELHO, THE PILGRIMAGE

Slice of Life: Patagonia Perfecta

Bariloche, Argentina (Dear Lake Tahoe: How do you like them apples?)

Stranger in a Strangeland

The honeymoon period has worn off a bit but I’m still in love with mi amor, Buenos Aires. But dang is he moody, one day he’s all fresh helado, flowing Malbec and slick dance moves. And the next he’s diesel fumes, catcalls and shoulder checks. My Spanish is coming along day by day, my favorite Lunfardo slang word so far: quilombo, which basically means cluster f--k. Buenos Aires has been good to me though and I’m a true fan. Some initial imprints:

Mullets & Ratails: The variety is downright impressive. Dreadlock ones, long braided ones, shorty perm-like ones, hot soccer player ones. I'm starting to want one. Yes.

PDA: The cheek kiss, men hugging without the stigma of 'looking gay', teens going to town against the nearest building wall. It’s on. All the time.

Street Music: Anywhere, anytime. Tango, lambada, cumbia, reggaeton, jazz, rock and jam bands on every other corner.

Hand Gestures: The Italian past time is in full effect here. My favorite is the criss crossing of the finger on the lips to signify keeping a secret. Or the brushing of the right hand under the chin for "no se". Two hands for "no tengo idea".

Cutsies: Um, hi, um. No I wasn’t standing in line behind the counter with things to purchase. No, go ahead. Hi.

"Que quilombo"!

Slice of Life: Sombrero Roho

San Telmo, Buenos Aires

Slice of Life: Gaucho

El Campo, Argentina

Light and Dark

Buenos Aires is starting to feel a bit like home. The broken sidewalks are easier to navigate. The melancholy eyes seem to brighten as it gets closer to spring. There is a certain hope in the air, the empanadas taste better and the black jackets make way for an occasional purple sweater. 

I’ve rested my head on this city’s soil for one month now. It’s not a place that's easy to fully embrace but I’m still into you, BA. You’ve still got me hooked.  

The Spanish is slowly sinking into my skin and with each passing day I sound less and less like a drunk two-year-old. I try everyday. Look foolish everyday. Yet feel elated everyday when I can understand a conversation. The universe opens up and goes "Si". The nights continue to offer a treasure chest of musical gems: milongas, swing, zouk lombada, jazz, international DJs and drum shows. Something for everyone to shake their assets to. 

I went to a tango bar last night, La Catedral, that was part Pablo Neruda sultry dream and part David Lynch eerie nightmare. A beautiful hybrid of light and dark. Just like the Argentine people. Just like the onda aca. Just like the city itself. 

Slice of Life: Mate

Palermo, Buenos Aires 

Slice of Life: Jaw Dropper

Iguazu Falls, Argentina

Slice of Life: Street Kiss

Montserrat, Buenos Aires

Baptism by Fire

Buenos Aires never sleeps. I’m two weeks into my trip and I’ve finally landed on my feet. I’ve been living days and nights that can only be compared to college era times. Dinner at 11PM, bar arrival at 1AM, dance floor packed at 5AM, breakfast at 1PM.

BA is complex. It’s dirty and cheap and artsy and mysterious and huge. It is birthed from a drunken one-night stand between Paris and Mexico City. A hybrid of European and Latin cultures. The youth sports mullets and rat-tails, so much so that I am starting to question what decade it is.

Buenos Aires is unapologetic; you will get run over by a car if you don’t yield to it. It can be trying and yet you begin to feel yourself falling for it. BA isn’t the hot quarterback, it’s the sulky art student – you want to know it’s secrets, it’s hidden pathways.

The first few days, this city said to me “I could care less that you’re here – big deal, another post Eat Pray Love American expat exploiting my peso with cheap Malbec consumption”. I felt a bit hurt, a bit humbled. But now I’m starting to accept it for what it is, with all its broken sidewalks, black jackets and melancholy eyes. I’m starting to crush on you, BA, even though you can be difficult.

This ciudad has so much to explore, I’ve been here 14 days and have yet to walk by a tango show – there's so much more to be revealed. I'm happy that I took this plunge into the unknown and that I started here. Each day is new and each day is full. of. life.