The Brel Chronicles

We’ve moved on to the island of Lombok, where we’ll be spending most of our time there on the nearby Gili Islands - 3 small islands that offer visitors completely different experiences.

Gili Meno, at only 1 km wide, and 2 km long, is the epitomy of seclusion - tiny thatch roof huts dot the beaches, with a few basic restaurants scattered about. It sounds like a perfect honeymoon - unless you consider the bed bugs, the b.o.-scented sheets, the thousands of black flies and the stifling heat and humidity in the huts. Two days of our lives we will unfortunatley, never get back.

Gili Trawangan, the largest of the islands at a whopping 3 x 2 km, saves the Gilis for us. It’s known as the party island - and we all know that Brel likes a good party. Stylish (and clean!) accomodations - infinity pools, private gardens, poolside cabanas.  Beautiful beaches. Great restaurants, bars and nightlife. In-room massages for $12.

We’re taking advantage of all that Gili T has to offer, as we wind down and prep for our upcoming return to the new world.

One other resident of Komodo that we neglected to mention is one of Mel’s favourites–monkeys! Long-tailed macaques, to be precise. Here are some of the new friends we made…

And the view from their home on Komodo island…

We had some strong feedback on our komodo dragon pics and video, so since we have a good internet connection now and lots of good pics I thought I’d put a few more up for your viewing pleasure…

One of the most unique opportunities we had during our week of Zen was the chance to visit one of Bali’s holiest sites: the sacred spring of Tirta Empul.

Tirta Empul means something like “crystal waters” and the temple is built around the island’s purest spring. Normally only accessible to Hindu worshippers who come to bathe, pray, and be purified under the many streams and spouts, during our stay we were able to enter–at night, and dressed in specially appropriate clothing (white sarongs, etc)–and take part in a blessing and purification ritual attended by a Balinese priest.

The elaborate evening involved making offerings of flowers and incense, being blessed with holy water, and ritually bathing in the waters of the spring.

As we went at night, when the temple of quiet and free of tourists, my photos were unfortunately not particularly good (and of course as I was participating it wasn’t ideal for taking pictures anyway). I’ve stolen a couple of pics from the Net to go with my blurry shots so you can get an idea of what it looks like in the daytime.

Random, beautiful and a unique opportunity. Purified!

The Balinese people’s days are filled with ritual and ceremony - in fact it’s said that a Balinese woman will spend 25% of her life performing rituals. There are rituals for pregnancy, birth, 42 days after birth, teeth filing, marriage and of course, death. Temples are everywhere, with at least one specially created altar per home.

One of our favourite rituals here happens three times a day - the offerings to the Hindu gods. Tiny banana leaf baskets are filled with rice, fruit, flowers and incense and placed on the altars for the gods and scattered on the grounds for the demons. Holy water is sprinkled on them to send the essence of the offering to the appropriate god. Walking around Bali, you literally see hundreds of these offerings scattered about every day.

At our retreat, we participated in a Balinese offering class where we each prepared two offerings. While our banana-basket-making craft skills left much to be desired, the whole process was quite intense and beautiful.

And with temples literally at every turn, we thought we’d include some photos of us at a random roadside temple, dressed in mandatory sarongs.

Yoga hurts.

Forget what all those hippie types say about increased flexibility and mind/body connection - it just plain hurts.

We start our days at the retreat at 7 am with 2 hours of meditation and yoga. It kinda goes down like this:

• Sitting in lotus position, meditate and breathe. Clear your mind. Try to think of a better mantra than ‘Brella’. Focus! Meditate! If your mind starts to wander, bring it back!
• Salute the sun about 50 times. Curse the plank and the downward dog.
• In-hellation. Ex-hellation. In-hellation. Ex-hellation.
• Balance yourself on one foot and perform random yoga moves for painfully long periods of time.
• Twist your body into pretzel-like formations.
• Look over at Brendan and mouth ’sorry’ because this whole yoga-thing was my idea.
• Actually start to appreciate the downward dog as a break from the other poses.
• In-hellation. Ex-hellation. In-hellation. Ex-hellation.
• Break into child-pose (curled up in a ball and resting). Hope no one is looking.
• Hamstrings crying out.  Why does this hurt so much?
• Finally! our favourite pose: Savasana! It’s the final resting position where we lie on our backs and do nothing.

Of course this all gets repeated in the evening, for another 1.5 hours.

OK, in all truth,we have enjoyed the yoga and the stretching does do wonders for the body. In shorter doses, this is probably something we could really like.

Thanks to the Oprah book-effect, many of you have probably read Eat, Pray, Love, the story of an American woman traveling for a year hoping to find and re-invent herself. Her travels take her to Italy, India and Indonesia. The Love part of the book takes place in Ubud, the hillside arts and cultural capital of Bali. While the book did put Ubud on the map for many, it’s still a quaint artsy community - though of course they’ve just finished shooting the movie version of the book with Julia Roberts as the main character, so it’s anyone’s guess as to how this place will develop over the next few years.

To immerse ourselves in life here,  we’ve signed up for a 6 day yoga retreat - complete with daily spa treatments, 3.5 hours of meditation and yoga per day, rituals to help balance the mind, body and spirit, organic and raw food and the infamous 24 hours of silence.

It’s anyone’s guess as to how we’ll survive - having only a few classes of yoga behind us and an acquired taste for pizza and Bintang (the local beer).

Wish us luck!

As we (way too slowly) made our way back to Bali, we had to oppotunity to spend a few days on Rincca and Komodo Islands - the only places in the world where the komodo dragon lives freely.

A direct descendant of the dinosaur, the komodo dragon grows to be 2-3 metres long and is the largest species of lizard. Their saliva is poisonous (who got to discover that?) and they are unbelievably fast - and of course they climb trees too. So if a komodo gets you in his sights, you’re pretty much screwed. The park rangers reassure us by telling us they haven’t lost  a tourist to a komodo since March. Thank you, so very reassuring.

Armed with pointed sticks, we saw about 15 of the last remaining 3000 komodo dragons - from the distance of only a few feet. And though one of the dragons clearly had Mel in his sight (Mmm,  Canadian breakfast- she probably tastes like poutine!), we made it out safely.

One again, we have averted maiming and death.

I mean, take a look at THIS rickety old ship! You couldn’t PAY me to get on that thing…

Uhhh, wait a minute, that was OUR ship. Our luxurious home for two glorious days and one, well, let’s be honest, sleepless night on deck.

In the end, it was actually pretty nice…at least during the day! And when dolphins woke Mel up in the middle of the night with their noisy frolicking…

While staying in a Catholic mission in rural Flores, we were entertained one night by the local children. Some of our fellow travellers were dragged onstage to show their stuff. Enjoy…

A quick apology for being offline for a bit–it isn’t always easy to get connected enough for things like uploading photos in this part of the world. It’s not that we don’t have lots to post! Anyway, moving right along…

One of the best excursions of our whole time on Flores was a day trip  from the north coast fishing town of Riung to the “17 Islands Nature Reserve,” a group of idyllic, uninhabited, sand-beached islands surrounded by clear blue water…and absolutely NO people. Seriously, even though we were facing the Flores coastline, we didn’t even see so much as a single fishing boat all day (although I’m sure the fact that it was Dec 24th had something to do with that). It almost made the difficult journey there worth it to have this entire coastline and archipelago to ourselves for the day.

As you’d expect, we spent he day snorkelling off the beach, eating fresh fish grilled over a coconut husk fire, and generally chilling out on th beach sipping cold Bintang we’d had the forethought to bring along.

As a bizarre finish to the day, we swung by one island that hosts a giant nesting area for what here are euphemistically called “flying foxes.” As we approached, we realised that these were distinctly NOT fox-like–it was an enormous colony of giant fruit bats! And we mean GIANT. The boatmen obligingly clapped and hollered until the whole colony woke up and circled around us in an amazing–if extremely creepy–way.

I would also like to take this opportunity to provide photographic proof to Mel’s parents that we did, indeed, make sure Melanie had a life jacket in the boat. See, no matter how sorry for herself Mel might sound on the phone, I am keeping her safe. So there.

The active volcano Kelimutu is probably the most famous site of any kind on Flores, and really it’s the reason I (Brendan) had an interest in Coming to Flores, since my first visit to Indonesia almost 20 years ago. Its fame comes from its three crater lakes, each one with a distinct–and continually changing–colour. Pictures of the lakes are on postcards all around the country.

Getting to the volcano summit for sunrise involved a very early morning drive along predictably crappy roads, followed by about a half hour plus hike up to the crater edge. As it turned out, one of the three craters was filled with clouds. Although we couldn’t see the (apparently black) lake, it did make for an eerie, beautiful bowl of clouds that gradually lifted exposing trees and the crater edges.

Tiwu Ata Mbupu (Lake of Old People) is usually blue and is the westernmost of the three lakes. The other two lakes, Tiwu Nuwa Muri Koo Fai (Lake of Young Men and Maidens) and Tiwu Ata Polo (Bewitched or Enchanted Lake) are separated by a shared crater wall and are typically green or red.

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The local coffee guys who live in the area come up every morning and serve coffee they grow, roast and grind themselves…and they’re quite the characters. One of them got our man Note dressed up, complete with a machete and filter-free kretek (clove) cigarette.

Just outside the Flores Island hill town of Bajawa are hundreds of traditional communities living much as they did a hundred (or a thousand!) years ago. We were lucky to have the chance to visit a couple of these, home to the Ngada people.

The Ngada are matrilineal (family lines follow the mother and–gasp–women are in charge!) and a ritual-oriented people, with elaborate courting rituals, animal sacrifice, polygamy and all kinds of other cool stuff. Their villages circle around large courtyards filled with graves of ancestors and altars to the village founders; the ones we visited sit on the slopes of one of Flores’ massive volcanoes. Building construction and symbolism in their architecture are virtually unchanged from centuries ago, despite the fact that they have been somewhat Catholicised. [Note: Mel is extremely confused by the concept of selective Catholicism. How would the church react to polygamy?!]

One other cultural trait (one not at all limited to the Ngaga) is their fondness for Betelnut. Splotches of red spit are everywhere and pretty much every woman over 40 has a big red blob where their teeth should be. [Note: one of our group had earlier remarked on seeing the red stains on the road that “there must be a menstruating goat” in the neighbourhood, a comment that became a joke with remarkable staying power. Hi Ellie!]

Of course, Brendan just HAD to have some, and had one of the old ladies whip him up a batch. Red tongues are sexy!

We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog (which, due to our recent weeks away from the Internet, is a few entries behind) to wish everyone a HAPPY NEW YEAR!

In real time we have now made it back to Bali (spoiler alert: we survive!) and spent New Year’s eve on Kuta beach. Along with millions of people, the beach was so full of fireworks–equal parts organised and anyone who had a few bucks to buy them from street vendors–it was truly the craziest pyromaniac frenzy we’d ever seen. How they don’t manage to fill the hospital with burn victims is beyond me.

The night was fun, and although there were the usual warnings of some sort of bomb or terror attack (the island has been skittish ever since a nightclub was bombed in 2002), we averted death once again! Thank you to the bomb checkers at Pizza Hut (and the 7000 US Counter-Terrorism agents incognito in the streets).

Eight days into this road trip back in time, we’ve decided we need a break – Brel style. So we’ve hired a private car and driver and have separated from our group for a few days. We’ve located the best hotel in Flores – on a beach with a pool with most of the luxuries we’ve been longing for. Mattress on the bed! Flush toilet! A/C! Hot shower! Electricity! Room service! Mini bar! HBO! No mould!

I’m not sure we’ve ever appreciated a hotel quite this much – and it’s owned by Ramada. It’s kind of like the thrill of being on the road for a long time and finding a restaurant that serves a western breakfast with bacon, or better yet, locating a Pizza Hut. Mel sings a spontaneous song about happiness emanating from her body.

Sometimes a little taste from home goes a long way to restoring your sanity. And probably prevents Mel from getting back on a plane and heading home early.

Off to drink a cold beer – yes, they even have cold drinks here – and pee sitting down.

“On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…”

12 Squatters squatting
11 rice paddies growing
10 flying bats
9 menstruating goats
8 scooters swerving
7 samabals burning
6 roosters crowing
5 Laaaarge Bintaaaaang
4 mie goreng
3 long-tailed Macaques
2 civet coffees
And a chicken in a maaango treeeeeee

Things I Think About during Endless Bus Rides – by Mel

1. Have not had liquids in 7 hours. Am I dehydrated? Must avoid peeing in the roadside squat toilets at all costs.
2. Is my Imodium working? If it isn’t, how will I manage this in the jungle? Did I remember to bring toilet paper?
3. Wonder if that mosquito that just bit me was carrying malaria. Are my drugs working? How will I know if they aren’t?
4. Wonder what Brella is doing right now. Wonder if anyone on this bus wants to hear about my dog.
5. Why are there no monkeys? Brendan promised me there would be monkeys in Indonesia.
6. How did this road trip seem like a good idea? Why does He need to earn these local travel Badges of Honour? Who is He trying to impress?
7. Hmmm. I’m definitely losing weight. Excellent. Will be able to justify the triple pork poutine when I get back. Mmmm….pork ribs…bacon…This is cheaper than a personal trainer!
8. God my ass hurts. I wonder how much these bus rides will set me back in my recovery.
9. I think Brella would be jealous of Indonesian dogs and their freedom. Is that dog sleeping in the middle of the road?
10. Tired of pretending to sleep. But it’s this or listen to Brendan go on about the coffee plantations and coconut trees. Does he ever stop talking?

Things I Think About during Endless Bus Rides – by Brendan

1. Why is my leg so swollen? Why is that bug bite still oozing?
2. How many more excuses will Mel find to bring our dog into the conversation? People are starting to look at her funny.
3. I’m so glad Mel is having this great local experience. I’m sure she’ll be totally converted to hard-core travel now. India and the ‘Stans, here we come!
4. Hmmm. I’m definitely gaining weight. Wonder if I’ll have to eat Mel’s lunch again. Mmmm..satay…beef rendang…
5. God I wish she’d stop talking about her ass.
6. Did we just hit a dog?????
7. Look at all the coffee plantations – are those robusta or arabica? I wonder if Mel wants to know how they are pollinated.
8. I wonder if Mel ate something bad, she looks like she’s about to projectile vomit.
9. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her pee in 2 days. I wonder which will last longer, her stubbornness waiting for an “acceptable” toilet or her bladder snapping like a water balloon.
10. Glad my Indonesian accent is so fluent, otherwise no one would understand us. Must practice under my breath. “Jakarta” “Jakarta” “apa kabarrrr…”. Thanks Dad, for my International Accent.

Our first married Christmas wasn’t really the way we imagined it would be. There was no ‘First Christmas’ ornament for the tree. No family gathered ‘round drinking eggnog. No Christmas carolling or turkey dinner or gifts. It kinda went down like this:

4 AM – Call to prayer from the nearby mosque
4:30 AM – Roosters awaken
5:00 AM – Silent Night blaring from a speaker positioned directly outside our window
5:30 AM – More roosters, one being chased and caught by locals – dinner?
6:00 AM – Christmas electricity! As a present, Santa is leaving our power on all day. Very exciting as it’s 35+ degrees and that tiny fan with the one setting (low) is a godsend.
6:30 AM – Give up on sleeping and go for breakfast
6:45 AM – Buns, grey meat-like substance and curiously, donuts for breakfast (where is the tourtiere??)
7:30 AM – Attempt at a shower. No water pressure. Brendan claims the shower is like “3 small children peeing on him”. Decide to apply extra deodorant.
8:00 AM – Daily dose of Immodium and Gravol for the day
9:00 AM – Yay! Another bus trip! 5-6 hours today. Switch-backs up a mountain. Beautiful views.
1:00 PM – Break from the bus. Two items on the menu – you guessed it, fried Mr. Noodles and fried rice. This time the seasoning is just salt – and lots of it. Exciting Christmas find at a street stall - OREOS!
2:00 PM – Arrive in the hill town of Bajawa. Find internet for first time in a week – two computers for the town. Exciting!
3:00 PM – Check in to a new low in accommodations. Mould-covered ceiling, plastic covered headboard and too much nastiness to describe (Mel’s mom is reading this after all).
3:15 PM – Wander the town in search of cold beverages.
3:22 PM – Tour complete - unsuccessful.
4:00 PM – Sit on a step outside waiting for time to pass.
6:00 PM – Decide to dress for dinner. No working shower here either. Wonder if we brought enough deodorant.
6:01 PM – Brendan screams like a little girl when reaching into his pack. Mel assumes cockroach. It is far worse: a scorpion has hitchhiked on his dress shirt.
6:10 PM – Scorpion dispatched. Scorpion goo will likely remain for years to come.
6:20 PM – Show picture of scorpion to locals – find out it was actually quite dangerous and would have killed a small child. Luckily for us, would just have made us very very sick. Consider ourselves lucky. Another brush with death averted.

7:00 PM – Go to only restaurant in town open. Chinese food. Recount our theory that the Chinese are the world’s largest sleeper cell poised to take over the world from every tiny town in every part of the world via Chinese food restaurants. People in the group look at us funny.
7:15 PM – Begin dreading going back to the room.
8:30 PM – Food arrives. Actually not that bad. Try hard not to think of turkey and mashed potatoes. And tourtiere. And wine. And Mom’s homemade bread. And stuffing. And chocolate roll. Can we have another Bintang?
9:00 PM – Thorough scorpion check. Acknowledge this will likely be part of traveling with our packs for years to come.
9:30 PM – Fourth check under the sheets for scorpions. Dreading sleeping, yet dreading being awake in this room.
10:00 AM – Mel begins plotting her escape. More about that soon.
11:59 PM – Still falling asleep, with visions of scorpions dancing in our heads.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

As much as we enjoy living the luxurious side of life, of course we need to balance that with a little reality.

Welcome to Reality.

We are spending the next week on the island of Flores – a mountainous island east of Bali. Tiny villages dot a gorgeous countryside of hills and valleys, full of palm trees and rice paddies. We’ve joined a group of 12 people for this part of the trip – once again playing Group Roulette. We are an odd array of people from completely different worlds, about to bond over an experience few people have the opportunity to share.

Our trek through Flores is bringing us to surprisingly remote locales, where the only other tourists seem to be missionaries. The local people gather and gawk at us, trying desperately to touch our white skin. There are no beggars here however – while poverty is rampant and the people live more primitively than we could ever imagine, their greetings are genuine.

Our accommodations this week reflect the villages we are living in – hot water is non-existent and we are thrilled when the cold water pressure is enough to wash in. We stay at Catholic missions a few nights, sharing a manual flush toilet (mandi) and bucket to wash in. The toilet doubles as a shower stall. (see initial photo) Our ‘suite’ in Riung has power from 6 pm to 6 am. And with no AC or ceiling fans in sight, we are thrilled when our accommodations actually have a window – with mosquito netting on the bed, of course. We share our space with chickens and pigs – Avian and Swine flu seem less of a mystery now. The roosters wake us at 4:30 am. If it’s not the chickens, it’s the mosque’s call to prayer. Or maybe the traffic. Or kids. Or blaring Christmas music at 5 am – ironically, Silent Night.

Our ‘restaurant’ choices are extremely limited – most towns have one or two warungs or local restaurants, so by definition, we eat what the locals do. And yes, there is a limit to how much mie goreng (fried noodles) you can eat. And no, nasi goring (fried rice) isn’t enough of a variation on the theme. But curiously, there is no limit to the sambal (spicy chilli sauce) that Brendan can eat.

Unexpectedly, we are spending 5-10 hours on the bus every day. It’s incredible that an island only 275 km wide can take so long to traverse.

We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to bring you an important weather advisory.

Sorry for those of you reading this from Canada (since we’ve been watching you all gripe on Facebook about how cold the weather is), but it’s time for a weather update. It’s rainy season in Bali. However, given that we’re only 8 degrees from the equator, rainy season essentially means: sunny days of 30°C with 95% humidity, punctuated by daily monsoon rains (not to be confused by typhoons, the storms you hear about on TV!) For those of you who have never experienced a monsoon, what it means is basically a vertical sheet of water falling from the sky, not unlike a waterfall. Only with more water. Luckily, though, it almost always falls at night, which makes for dramatic background noise for sleeping but doesn’t interfere with prime tanning hours.

Despite today’s entry, please continue reading our blog. We promise we won’t torture with too many more weather updates.

Here at Desa Seni, the focus is on healing, healthy living and spiritual well-being. Below is the Brel take on all this touchy-feely stuff.

Ohmmmmmmm…

In preparation for our week-long yoga retreat in Ubud (very Eat Pray Love), we decided to warm up with a Restorative Yoga class. Note: although the use of the term “restorative” might make you imagine relaxing, gentle stretching, it actually means prolonged periods of intense pain, where each successively more painful pose is held for 4-6 minutes. Our “yoints” still hurt.

Owwwwwwwwww…

Next we decided to have one-on-one “healing consultations”. Pak Sami is a famous Balinese healer, with credentials up the ying yang. And while the spa menu doesn’t claim the process will be relaxing, it also fails to mention that it is essentially an exorcism in which all evil toxins are removed from your body by a series of pokes, pummels, sharp jabs and swift kicks. Okay, maybe not the last one but it sure felt that way.

The procedure starts off with reflexology – an alternative medicine technique where pressure is applied to different parts of the feet to identify problem areas within the body. This should have been our first sign to run – when someone simply presses on your foot and it causes you to scream in pain, it’s a bad sign as to what’s going on in your body.

The next 90 minutes involve the Healer Sadist Exorcist providing a healing massage – causing us unbelievable pain through the use of various torture techniques. Apparently our bodies are trying to communicate something to us –Mel’s body in particular is NOT happy. Additional sessions are recommended for her – though the Healer is confident that he can clear up the remaining medical issues from her surgery in Greece…in about 5 or 6 more sessions. As is she’d let THAT happen again.

At the end, he warned us to expect fever, body aches, projectile vomiting, and 360° head spinning. (Okay, a little literary licence with the last two.) We emerged sore and slightly bruised, but none the worse for wear. Other than the nightmares of course.

Theta Healing

Theta Healing is a “meditational process that co-creates physical, psychological and spiritual healing with focused prayer through the Creator. It is a healing technique which involves taking your consciousness to the Creator on the seventh plane through your Crown Chakra.”

WTF does that mean? Exactly the reason we signed up.

The overall idea of theta healing is to change the subconscious thoughts that keep you from living your life to its full potential, using energy transference, visualization, prayer, reiki, muscle testing and a variety of other random techniques.

RF10. On the Japanese scale, no less.

We’re still struggling to find words to describe the experience. That said, it did make for interesting conversation upon reflection. (“You didn’t get pink light? Pink light entered ME. And our dog.” “I didn’t get to choose a happy place…did you get that warm, fuzzy feeling in your left arm?” “Apparently I have healer hands—they were transferring a lot of energy.”) Believe it or not, we’re actually considering trying it again just to see where it goes.

Clearly, we have yet to cross into full New Age hippy-dom, but hey, we’ve only been here for a week.

After our luxurious transition to Indonesia, we now find ourselves at Desa Seni, a reproduction of an Indonesian village. Our village house, aka Rumah Tinggal, was imported from central Java and dates back to the 1920’s. Made entirely of teak, the house’s antique furnishings, including our very own prayer box, a door from a rice storage house, Balinese wood carvings, a traditional loom-cum-towel rack and a wooden trough for a toilet roll holder, were lovingly collected (by a Canadian, no less) from around the country. Surrounded by working rice fields, this is our first taste of Indonesian life…complete with AC, HBO, and what seems to be a 3:1 staff-to-guest ratio.

 Desa Seni prides itself on organic living, and most of the vegetables and fruit are grown here on the property. Right next to the giant salt water infinity pool. The place is definitely one of the most unique places we’ve stayed, and well worth the Rupiahs.

Welcome to Bali!

Dear Readers, we hope you are enjoying this blog and will enjoy our stories of Bali. We should warn you now though, this blog will likely have no end. We are never leaving Bali.

Why, you ask? 30 degrees every day. Surrounded by beaches. Fabulous food and killer coffee. Cost of living 1/10 of what it is at home. And apparently, there are monkeys here too.

Bali is an island in Indonesia (for those of you who don’t want to admit you don’t know, we figured we’d make it easy). Over the next month, we’ll be visiting a number of islands (there are actually 18,000 of them in Indonesia) and in typical Brel fashion, we will be experiencing the extremes of life here. Our booked accommodations range from $15 a night to sleeping in a shared cabin on a boat to $215 a night. Below $15, you can’t book in advance. And above $215 is just not within our budget - but that doesn’t mean we can’t drink at the hotel bars of the $1,000+ a night places.

So of course, we start our trip at the top. After Japan, $215 seemed positively cheap - but in Indonesia, that means you get a 1,200 sqft private villa with private pool and a staff that stops at nothing to please.

We are staying at the Elysian (www.theelysian.com). For those of you who’ve followed this blog for some time, you know we’ve vacationed with celebrities in some of Central America’s swankiest places (albeit not on our dollar). Surprisingly, the Elysian surpassed our already-high expectations. We’re not sure how they do it, but they actually have a staff that CARES - genuinely, truly, cares that we are enjoying ourselves. (the HR person in Mel is dying to know how you motivate/compensate/recognize people to get these types of results).

The photos of our rock star room, lush grounds and grotto pool kinda speak for themselves. Enjoy - we sure did.

Jakarta. Massive. Dirty. But no bombs on the day we were there. Enough said. Moving on to Bali.

As we transitioned from Japan to Indonesia, we got the news that our poor pup Brella has been hospitalized. She’s been struggling with some type of allergy for a while now, and the scratching has given way to an eye ulcer and infection. Unfortunately, her fear of ointments and eyedroppers means that her alter ego Rabid Dog has taken over. So she’s spending the week at the vet getting treatment and hoping for no long term eye damage. Thanks to our sitter Kelly for taking such quick action….give Lucy (our cat) a kiss for us in the meantime. Get better Brella - we love you!

[C’mon, you knew it was only a matter of time before we found a way to get a picture of our dog in the blog! -B]

By The Numbers

• Pounds lost/gained: Mel -5, Brendan +5
• Trains taken: 40+
• Number of times Brendan had to eat a second of third mean because Mel didn’t like what she’d ordered: almost every meal
• Number of Japanese words Mel picked up: 1 (nomihodai “all you can drink”; oishii “delicious”—used sparingly; atsukan “hot sake”
• Number of times Brendan annoyed Mel with his in-depth knowledge of Japan: shockingly, zero
• Number of times Mel wanted to go home: 4
• Number of times she decided it wasn’t so bad after all: 5
• Number of anxiety hours prior to every meal: 2
• Number of people crossing the street in Shibuya at each light: 5-10,000
• Budget for one week: probably the same thing we’ll spend in 5 weeks in Indonesia

Moments We’d Rather Forget

• Mel’s tummy problems. I have to be the first person in Japan’s 10,000 year history to have stomach problems from the food
• All random menu items previously blogged about

Highlights

• Shabu-shabu, teppanyaki
• Meeting Brendan’s Tokyo friends (special shout out to Patrick)
• Surviving the insanity and randomness

Lessons Learned

• In Tokyo, everything you assume is wrong. Vegetable sandwiches will have ham, most “Western” food bears only a passing resemblance to the food we know, walk on the left, don’t ever touch a door to open it…
• Never ask why. There is no answer. Don’t ask why there is no answer.

…I know you want to ask…

There’s so much to see in Tokyo that in seven days you can’t even scratch the surface, let alone accurately blog about it. Our approach to Tokyo has been very anti-Brel: long days of walking and exploring while trying to absorb as much cultcha as possible. From temples and shrines, to the shopping meccas of Aoyama and Ginza to the goth freaks of teenage Harajuku, and the plastic food shops of Kappabashi, we covered quite a bit.

Our food experiences in Tokyo have truly demonstrated the opposite extremes of our palates. Thankfully, as Mel so eloquently put it the first week we were dating, “good thing we each have separate mouths.” When all was said and done, in between all the food anxiety I did develop a taste for a few Japanese delicacies:

• Yaki-onigiri (fun balls of rice)

• Tempura (let’s face it, if you deep fry it, I’ll eat it)

• Shabu shabu (not just because we like saying it)

• Yaki-soba and ramen (can’t go wrong with noodles)

• Teppanyaki (even without the juggling chef and erupting onion volcanoes of the western version)

• Yakitori (but not the random parts)

• Gyoza (bundles of happiness…not sure what was inside but they were good)

And of course, Brendan’s favourites:

• Sushi (ideally of the revolving variety)

• Sashimi (slices of raw stuff)

• Tako-yaki (squid balls of disgustingness)

• Unagi-don (eel, ideally eaten for breakfast at the airport)

• Squid tentacles, grilled chicken cartilage and skin, fermented soybeans, little river shrimp (eaten whole, shell and all) with more legs and antennae than shrimp

• Pretty much anything else on the menu. The more random the better

As most of you know, Brendan lived and worked in Japan for nearly 4 years. Some of his fellow teachers have since made this their permanent home and have moved on to high-ranking jobs in some of Tokyo’s best univerisities. But don’t let prestigious titles like “Professor” fool you - they can still party with the best of us.

Nomi hodai is a part of Japanese culture I can respect - 2 hours of all you can drink madness. It’s usually priced at less than the cost of 2 drinks - and if you accept the all-you-can challenge, well needless to say, it can be a smart financial decision.

I experienced my first nomi hodai at a shabu-shabu restaurant, my first truly enjoyable Japanese dining experience. Shabu shabu involves cooking your own meat and veggies in a pot of boiling broth at your table - think fondue but faster and more fun. This was also my first fully successful chopstick meal - no flying meatballs, cramped hands or using my fingers when no one was looking.

Post nomi hodai, we entered the insanity of the entertainment district of Kabukicho - think Vegas on speed. Then multiply by a 10,000. Bright lights, casinos, bars, karaoke clubs, street vendors thousands of people in the street - and every debauchery opportunity you can imagine.

I think it’s official. Tokyo and I are becoming friends. Kampai!

Tokyo is so overwhelming, that I’m having a hard time organizing my thoughts for the blog. And I’ve had to start carrying a notebook so that I don’t forget any of it.

Our Accommodations

When we first arrived in Tokyo, we stayed in a traditional ryokan - an old-school Japanese inn. Think tatami mats, a futon on the floor, cushions for sitting, sliding shoji screens and slippers. We’ve since moved to a boutique design hotel in the middle of the madness. And at 16,500 yen (that’s about $175 CDN), it’s 3 x 4 metres of luxury.

Umbrellas

A day of rain here has given me a new perspective on yet another Japanese cultural oddity - the umbrella. Everyone here carries one, without exception. And that can mean literally hundreds of umbrellas crossing the street at the same time at Shibuya crossing (that’s the crazy street crossing in Lost in Translation). The only way to avoid losing an eye is to do as the Japanese do - carry your umbrella low to protect your face, and be agressive. It’s really the only time I’ve seen them be anything but kind and respectful. And apparently, in a country with an extremely low crime rate (Japanese mafia activities not included), stealing umbrellas is totally ok. Oh and I can’t talk about umbrellas without mentioning the umbrella condoms - mandatory covers that you have to place on your umbrella before entering a store or restaurant.

 Urban Planning

Tokyo’s approach to urban planning, is, well, not to do it. This has resulted in a fascinating array of incongruent land use - temples next to concrete apartment buildings next to massive shopping malls next to tiny ramen noodle shops.

Face Masks

About 10% of the population here is wearing a face mask right now. While you might assume that it’s germ paranoia, in actuality, the people wearing the masks are the ones who are sick. The mask is a way of being respectful to others. Who knew?

Hachiko

There is a bronze statue of a dog at one of the main subway stations here. Hachiko was a loyal dog who went to the Shibuya station every day to greet his master. One day, his master left for work and passed away. Hachiko returned to the station to wait for his master every day - for 9 years!

Not sure Brella would do the same. She’d be more likely to be the dog who ran and ran and ran for 9 years.

Bikes, Pedestrians and Sidewalks

In a city where most people travel by foot or bike, it’s amazing that there are so few sidwalks here. And unlike in Canada, where bikes are considered slow moving vehicles and share the road with cars, bikes here are fast pedestrians - so we all share the tiny sidewalks.  Thankfully, arrows and tape point us along our path - we wouldn’t want to be rude and walk on the right hand side of the path after all. And at crosswalks, everyone patiently waits for the light to switch - even if there are no cars in sight. No one would ever consider jaywalking here - it just wouldn’t be polite.

As seen on last night’s dinner menu:

• Fried Spam cutlet (Spam has a cutlet?)
• Fried edible frog (as opposed to the poisonous dart frog?)
• Cheese stuffed bamboo shaped fish deep fried with seaweed and covered in Korean roe sauce
• Pig tongue and water spinach stir fry
• Deep fried chicken with tartar sauce
• Crab guts (see? they really do eat it ALL!)
• Deep fried cartilage
• Korean style cod guts in spicy pastes
• Salted small squid guts (mmm salty)

Hopefully some of these items are just bad translation. Gotta go, my plate of assorted guts is waiting.

I guess people really can get used to anything. I’m pleased to report that my anxiety in Tokyo is quickly being replaced by awe and fascination, to the point where I kind of regret that last blog post. Today, the MAS is just 26.

The Trains and Subways

Yes, the Tokyo subway station is as crazy as you imagine it to be. With literally hundreds of lines, the award for complete insanity goes to Shinjuku Station, where 3.64 million people pass every single day. To put that number in perspective, that’s four times the number of people who use the TTC’s  43 stations every day - all in one place. At least there are 200 exits to manage everyone. And nice men who use sticks to ram everyone on board so the doors can close during rush hour. Seriously - I didn’t make that up.

Karaoke

We had our first karaoke experience in the city that invented it. Of course karaoke is usually performed here in private rooms or booths so you don’t have to torture a room full of people with your moves and passion for Mr. Roboto (Brendan, you know I’m talking about you). Thankfully, we found a bar that allowed us to give a public performance. And yes, we do have Friends in Low Places.

Capsule and Love Hotels

In a city that seems to never sleep, one of the surprising realities here is that the subway system closes early - as in before midnight in most cases. While we managed to run and make the last train on our first night out (check out the video below of the doors closing as we exit), we weren’t so fortunate last night. Thankfully, a whole industry caters to people who’ve missed their trains.

Capsule hotels - no frills stacked box rooms essentially like coffins - provide quick and easy overnight accommodation for men. And for couples, there are Love hotels - rooms of varying levels of cleanliness and sleaziness providing couples a private getaway - for a few hours or overnight - including all the entertainment and amenity options you could dream up, and some you wish you hadn’t. We had our own karaoke machine. And that’s probably all you need to know.

We’ve Seen the Future, and it is Loud. And a little odd.

It’s no surprise that Japan is the world leader in technology and electronics. In fact an entire neighbourhood here (Akihabara) is devoted to showing off  the latest toys and gadgets. From dancing MP3 players to ridiculously small cell phones to robots and toys you couldn’t even dream up, entire city blocks are filled with the latest and greatest. And in a city with no notion of noise pollution, said toys and electronics are all loudly on display. At the same time. The Sony Building spotlights the newest thing - or at least what will be the newest thing in 3 years when it gets to Canada and the US. We bought noise-canceling ear buds.

One of the big things in Akihabara is also maid cafes - cafes where young Japanese girls dress like maids and serve their masters while speaking in high-pitched shrill voices. While we haven’t figured out their appeal, there are well over 50 of these cafes in a small area, so someone must be enjoying them. We really are in bizarro-land folks.

 Department Stores

Move over Zellers and Sears: department stores in Japan make you look like nickel and dime corner stores. Providing way more than an opportunity to buy a lot of crap in one place, Tokyo department stores are an institution here - with massive fresh food and grocery stores on the bottom levels (think Whole Foods times 1000) and beer halls and entire restaurant floors on the top floors. And of course, you can still buy a lot of crap.

As we wake up on Day 2, it’s become painfully obvious that we need a new ranking scale for Tokyo - the Mel Anxiety Scale (MAS). Based on a scale of 1 to 100, where 50 is “Get me Atavan now!” and 100 is a a full-fledged coma, the MAS strives to capture the anxiety of being in Tokyo. Today, I am at about 48.

My top fears today are:

1. Fear of losing Brendan. Between the language barrier, the fact that all the streets look the same and I have absolutely no idea where I am, this is causing me serious anxiety. At least I think I’ve fooled Brendan into believing my death-grip in the train stations is really just a declaration of love.

2. The food. Those of you who know me know that I am a fussy eater and that my food issues are often a source of contention in my marriage. I have issues with textures. Issues with eating cute things (pigs excluded because of the joys of bacon). Issues with not knowing what I’m eating. So needless to say, I’m totally screwed in Japan.

I’m pretty sure I ate raccoon today. Even my go-to food (chicken) is a risk here - it could be chicken heart, chicken skin, chicken toenails, you  never really know. Chicken breast is served rare (or medium rare if you are well, chicken).　And then there’s the issue of eating implements - no forks in sight here, so I’ve had a crash course in eating with chopsticks.　I get cramps in my hands. It takes me forever to eat. And I nearly hit someone with a flying tskune last night (random ball of meat).

I realize that most people love the food here and the Japanese take their food very seriously - but it sure as heck isn’t Benihanas or teriyaki rice bowls at the food court.

3. The rules. Not sure if it’s leftover Catholic guilt or not, but the fact that I am constantly unknowingly breaking all the rules is causing me stress. I really don’t want to offend all these nice people. “Happy Happy”. I’m trying folks, seriously.

So at this point, I’m only a 48 because Brendan has realized that constant atsukan (hot sake) helps calm me down. And the drugstores don’t sell Atavan over-the-counter.

Mom and Dad: Please come get me. He’s still taking good care of me but I’m hungry. (note from Brendan- your parents will realize you’re kidding here, right?)

But on a positive note, at least I’ll shed my post-wedding weight from our 2 month poutine tour of Toronto.

For those of you who followed our blog last year, you might remember the RF scale - a scale of 1 to 10 that helped us rank the randomness of our adventures. In just a few hours off the plane, we’ve quickly decided that Tokyo deserves it’s own RF scale, where a 1 in Tokyo is a 9 anywhere else-seriously folks, we’re going to need a bigger scale. So as you read on, please note that a 1 in Tokyo is equivalent to waking up after a massage, covered in mud and tribal war paint (an RF 9 in our Belize blog).

In a city whose population swells from 11 million to 30 million during the day, the sights, sounds and sheer density of people here is beyond overwhelming.  A few things that stand out:

- The rules: there are rules here for everything. Shoes on when entering a room. But not if you are going down a step. Then slippers on. But don’t wear the slippers on a tatami mat. [Don’t forget: make sre you change to the toilet slippers for the bathroom but don’t wear them back into the restaurant! - BP] No blowing your nose in public.  No eating or drinking while walking. Carry small dogs in a purse - it makes people smile (seriously, that’s a sign). “Drunken behaviour - do it at home”. Don’t rest your chopstocks in the rice. Don’t point at people. And there are so many bowing rules, I haven’t figured them out yet.

- The toilets: Straight out of the Jetsons - you can adjust water temperature, bidet spray direction, turn on the “Power deodorizer” and of course, play flushing sounds to disguise what you are doing. The seats are heated - thereby quashing the hygenic desire to hover (you girls know what I’m talking about here). Then again, you might be unfortunate enough to find that your only available option is a squat toilet - which is exactly as it sounds.

- The vending machines: You could pretty much live out of the vending machines which line every street. From hot coffee in a can to giant Coke Zeros to beer, the options are endless (albeit not too healthy).

- The architecture: If they design it, they will build it.

- The food- while I hope much of what we’re seeing on menus is just bad translation, there isn’t a lot here they dont’t eat: from chicken butt, tail, neck and cartiledge on a stick, no animal part is spared - the Japanese make the Argentinians and their taste for glands and innards seem wasteful. More on food later.

So all in all, Day 1 in Tokyo ranks an RF 5, on the newly defined scale.

Well it’s been 18 months since our first big adventure ended prematurely, and a lot has happened since. We’re married now, and we are the proud parents of a one-year old (ok, a dog named Brella, who will undoubtedly make it into future blog posts).

We’ve taken  a few vacations since our last post - a luxury trip to Los Cabos(where we got engaged), a booze-and-taco fuelled trip to Cancun and Playa del Carmen, and a post-wedding trip to Anguilla and St Maarten  where we were neighbours with Penelope Cruz. (please note: don’t confuse a post-wedding trip with a proper honeymoon-that’s how we are justifying the current escape from work and life).

Our travel plan this time isn’t nearly as outlandish as the last - we’ll be spending a week in Tokyo, and 5 weeks in Bali and nearby Indonesian islands. Follow us as we try to determine the ideal ratio of yoga classes to beach bars, eat deep-fried bat and and learn to travel together when there isn’t an out-clause. Yay marriage!

Ok, this is Brendan here. My voice was seldom heard in past blogs as it always seemed I had more work-related writing to attend to; thus for the most part, Mel became the voice of the Brel Chronicles. This time around I plan to be more involved, as this is 100% vacation!

That having been said, I think I’ll leave first impressions—especially of Japan—to Mel. Having lived in Japan I don’t see it with the same fresh twisted perspective she does, and I think her version will make a lot more entertaining reading!

Before we get into the trip, though, I’d like to play a little catch-up. There has been some pretty entertaining travel between the end of our last big trip and this one; a summary and some photos should get us back up to speed.

Stop 1: Get Home

We kind of trailed off at the end of our blog, stranding readers in Istanbul without wrapping things up very well. Obviously from our posts we became much more focused on Mel’s health at the time, and although stories of Greek hospitals are fun to recall now, it was more than a little stressful at the time. Blogging wasn’t really an enjoyable process when we didn’t know how it was all going to turn out.

But here we are on the road again, things turned out ok, and I think Greece, which despite the craziness was quite good to us, deserves a nod. We already have some good content for this area which we will have to upload later.

In a nutshell, being in a hospital in a foreign country is never fun, but Greece is a pretty good place to do it in the larger scheme of things. Having to stay put for weeks in Athens and Santorini isn’t the worst thing in the world, either, and we did our best to eat and drink ourselves silly. I’m sure souvlaki and retsina adds to recovery.

Stop 2: Get Engaged

Well, I always said I’d have to make sure we could travel together before we got married. After that trip there really wasn’t anything left to the imagination when it came to quirks, annoying habits, stubbornness, …oh yes, and of course the good side of each of us. Really, if we could survive that, how hard could marriage be? (Don’t answer that…)

And so my scheming began.

We planned a random week in Cabo San Lucas, originally to travel a little Mel-style. For those of you that don’t already know, that means travel that is:

- all-inclusive
- somewhere warm with a beach
- does not require advanced language skills to do simple tasks like find the bathroom and eat breakfast
- does not require ingestion of anything unrecognisable
- generally speaking must have bacon

Unbeknownst to Mel, I had already begun planning. I already had a ring (and even had time to insure it!) As much as a Mexican all-inclusive sounded fun, I thought if I was going to propose I could do a little better. And so good old MACO Destinations magazine came to the rescue again.

For those who have read the earlier posts from Costa Rica and Belize, Destinations was the luxury travel magazine that allowed us such outrageous experiences as couples massages beside hot spring rivers, sleeping in Mel Gibson’s favourite bed and tribal mud baths followed by private tiled hot tubs in the jungle.

This time the plan went something like this:

1) pick the most exclusive, outrageously over-the top romantic, luxury boutique hotel I could find
2) pimp out my own engagement to get there

That’s right, I sold my own engagement story before it even happened. Hey, what hotel wouldn’t love the story of a travel writer staging his own engagement and then publishing the story?

Needless to say it worked. Rather than get into all the gory details, I’ll simply let the photos—and the actual article, which I’m attaching here—speak for themselves. From the private butlers (including Mel’s favourite—pool butlers) to the carefully orchestrated private meal I cooked her dressed in chef’s whites, topped off by a homemade chocolate box with a ring in it for desert, it went off like a charm. Plus it made one hell of a story.

Afterwards when we were back at the Cabo commoners see, me and my big mouth happened to mention to a passing waiter at Squid Roe (one of those ridiculous tourist bars Mexico is famous for) that we had just gotten engaged. Below you can view the consequences of my indiscretion. That and drinking margaritas before 5pm. And jello shots.

[video to come…really, it’s best not to see it anyway…]

Next: the dirty vacation. No, not dirty that way. Shame on you.

Stop 3: Get Drunk

Actually, I’m just kidding. Sort of.

Eventually we did take a “normal” last minute cheapo trip to Playa del Carmen and Cancun, a vacation of the Mariachi and Margarita-soaked variety. As you can see by the pictures, we can have vacation snapshots like normal people too! So there.

Mel also discovered the joys of showing up in a town like Playa without so much as a toothbrush and deciding to stay. Score one for spontaneity!

Step 4: Get Married

Unbelievably, there was absolutely no travel involved in our wedding.
Step 5: The Brel Honeymoon

Although we had vowed not to go anywhere right after the wedding—at least not until we had time to do it properly—by the time the whole process was done we were so exhausted we just needed to get out of Dodge. Not to be predictable, we headed to Anguilla via St Maarten, to another Destinations-worthy hotel, one we’d heard great things about while cavorting with the stars in Cabo. Cap Juluca didn’t disappoint, and not just because Penelope Cruz was our neighbour…
That having been said, we’ll probably continue to seek out luxury for value, and I can’t say that the “fancy” side of the Caribbean supplied that. Off to Indonesia!

As avid Brel Chronicles readers, you probably already know that Mel had surgery 2 weeks ago in Athens. Well things have not gone as planned, and we’ve been dealing with some serious post-surgery complications in Santorini, with daily doctor visits and a lot of drugs. Unfortunately, the prognosis, while good, will require months of rest and recovery.

While Greece and the rest of Europe are beautiful places to visit, it’s tough to recover without the support of friends and family and the comfort of home. And while Nurse Powell has been amazing, he probably wouldn’t mind some help from the Canadian medical system.

And so we have made the extremely difficult decision to end our trip and return to Canada.

This journey has been incredible: we’ve seen great places, met wonderful people and experienced life to the fullest. And yes, we found the perfect beach, drank great espresso and consumed our body weights in wine.

Who knew that the Brel match wasn’t really Vacation vs. Travel. It was Life vs. Travel, and in the end, they became the same thing.

Final Score:

Life: 1 Travel: 1

Welcome to the crazy and wonderful city of Istanbul. It’s been a long road to get here - nearly 4,000 km in fact.

Istanbul is famous for many things, not the least of which is the great nightlife. Of course, it wouldn’t be Turkey unless there were some great ancient sites: the Blue Mosque, Aya Sofya and of course, the Grand Bazaar.

Unfortunately we had to cut our Istanbul trip short, deciding to get surgery in Athens rather than here, so we didn’t get to experience nearly as much of it as we wanted.

But fear not Istanbul… Brel will be back.

Troy

The lost city of Troy was discovered in the late 1800’s, along with nine successive civilizations, one on top of the other, dating back 5,000 years. Classics student Brendan enjoyed walking through the site and debating whether Homer’s Iliad was fact or fiction. Mel remembered her first heart-break, healed to Sinead O’Connor’s song, Troy. “There is no other Troy, for you to burn …”

Ephesus

By far the most impressive of the many (many, many) ancient sites we saw in Turkey was Ephesus. Remarkably well-preserved, Ephesus was an important trading port, and was visited by the likes of Alexander the Great, St. John and quite possibly, the Virgin Mary. How cool is that?

Pergamon

Another impressive Turkish site is Pergamon, one of the ancient world’s major powers. You’ll note Mel is absent from the group shot- claiming to be all “ruined out”.

As we continue our journey through Turkey, we’re becoming more familiar with the culture, people and maybe even a little bit of the history. (Ugur, our tour guide: if you are reading this, don’t worry, that last bit was sarcasm)

Carpets - It’s no secret that Turkey is famous for its carpets and at every street corner we find shops and carpet salesmen eager to invite us in for tea and a sampling of their goods. We did fall prey to a post-bar party in a carpet shop, which initially looked innocent - beer and music in a showroom. This, of course made us prime targets for a lengthy rant about the quality and history of Turkish carpets, and a viewing of literally, hundreds of carpets. Not sure they realized that back-packing and homeless Brel was not really their target market. But the beer was good.

The Turks - The Turks are wonderful, friendly people, and our first impressions (http://blogs.bootsnall.com/Mel-and-Brendan/lessons-learned-in-our-first-3-hours-in-turkey.html) were downright wrong. While they can be aggressive in their selling approach, they are proud of their heritage and want visitors to appreciate all Turkey has to offer. And Mel also feels it’s important to mention that the men are hot. Single girls, take note.

Politics - Turkey is still a hot-bed politically, and the current Islamist government is controversial. The day after we left Istanbul, there was a terrorist attack on the U.S. Consulate there, with a probable Al Quaeda connection.

Nargile (a.k.a. Hookah or Sheesha)- Whatever you call it, the nargile is an integral part of Turkish culture. Essentially a water pipe, the nargile allows you to smoke flavoured tobacco via a long pipe, usually while sitting on beanbags on the floor.

Firsts - Turkey is responsible for a lot of firsts, not the least of which is coffee. Oh, and for all you advertising-types: the first known ad is found in Ephesus, see pic below. I guess our biz has been shady since the beginning - the ad is for a brothel.

It’s been a week since the surgery, and things are progressing well. Nurse Powell has been diligently carrying out his tasks with much love, and Mel is definitely on the mend. The drainage tube (yuck) is finally out, the drugs are decreasing in supply and the stitches are scheduled for removal on Friday.

Some stats for your amusement:

• $$ spent on medical care: $4,800
• $$ spent on unanticipated living expenses in Athens: $3,000
• $$ lost on our sailing trip: $1,300
• # times Brendan made Mel feel guilty: 0
• # times Mel would have made Brendan feel guilty if roles were reversed: about 25

We hope this will soon just be a bad memory (and perhaps one day a funny story?) of life on the road.

Thanks to all of you for your concern and support. And thanks to our travel insurance for making this less painful.

Now back to the Turkey blogs…

We interrupt your Turkey blog reading to bring you real-time news from Athens (our blog is usually a week behind our adventures).

In an unfortunate twist of fate, Brel have found themselves in a hospital in Athens, Greece. Mel has had surgery for an abscess on her tail-bone (not the sexiest of diseases or recovery by the way). The prognosis is good-but it does require us to spend 10 days here and miss half of our Greek Islands sailing trip.

As with all things Brel, there have been some interesting moments:

* Mel mistaking the IT Manager for the doctor and nearly dropping her drawers for him

* Mel attempting to take directions in Greek-and accidentally putting on multiple robes and paper panties on her head

* Mel waking up from the anesthetic convinced she had been unconscious for 7 years (and asking everyone if she was still alive)

* The constant “good lucks” from the Greek hospital staff - unnerving as we were kind of hoping to rely on expertise and not luck

And so, in the end, 24/7 travel for a year isn’t the biggest Brel test- it’s surgery in a foreign country, with Mel in significant pain and Brendan playing Florence Nightingale. Wish us luck!

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, idolator, worshipper of fire
Come even though you have broken your vows a thousand times.
Come, and come yet again.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.

-Mevlana Rumi

We had the opportunity to visit Konya, the adopted home of Rumi, the Sufi mystic poet. Rumi was known for his use of dance and song to reach spiritual enlightenment. His ideas and poems were rooted in love, captured in his most famous work, Masnavi written in the late 1200’s.

After his death, the Mevlevi order of dervishes was founded and they continue to this day to use dance (or whirling) to bring themselves closer to God.

The idea of a tolerant religion based on love was refreshing. We can’t help but think that we could all learn a lot from the Sufis.

While it may not be as well known as Greece for it’s coastal towns and islands, the Turquoise Coast is gorgeous. We spent some time in Kas, a beautiful town set amidst cliffs on the Mediterranean. Once again, we had to make the difficult decisions between the pool and the beach, one beer or two beer, and what level of sunscreen to wear. So don’t fool yourself, this life of ours on the road isn’t all fun and games- it’s not easy being Brel.

We have seen some fabulous sites in Turkey. Some highlights:

• The underground city of Derinkuyu, an extensive city that housed upwards of 10,000 inhabitants, thousands of years ago.
• Chimaera, home of the eternal flame. For thousands of years, flames have been burning here, the result of gas deep below. Apologies if any of you are now singing the unfortunate 80’s Bangles song, Eternal Flame.
• The ruins of Phaselis, a port city dating back to 7 BC, where Alexander the Great spent a winter before conquering the east
  
• Myra, an ancient Roman theater dating back to 2nd century AD
  
• The town of Demre, birthplace of the original Saint Nicholas, later renamed Father Christmas. Who knew the whole gifts-down-the-chimney thing actually happened?
• Pamukkale, where volcanic spring water has crystallized to form natural terraces and pools.

Happy Canada Day from Brel!

As we continue our 4,000 km, 14 day road trip, we have fallen in love with Turkey.

Food: The food here is delicious. Our options (thankfully) are more varied than meat-on-a-stick (though shish is available everywhere). And yes, they have Turkish Delight here. But interestingly, they don’t eat turkey, the bird. Go figure.

Religion: The Turks seem to pick and choose which parts of Islam they want to implement. Alcohol can be found in many restaurants. The divorce rate is 30%. There are more love marriages these days then arranged marriage. Scarves are still the norm for women here though, and the mosques are central to every town we visit.

Football: Like most of the world (save Canada and the U.S.), soccer is huge in Turkey. We were fortunate enough to be here for the Euro Cup semi-finals, with Turkey facing off against Germany. Ironically, we were in Konya, the driest city in Turkey, where only one restaurant serves alcohol. Not the wildest party of our trip, but fun nonetheless. Unfortunately, we didn’t win the game. Which at least meant no gunshots in the air and accidental Canadian victims.

Turkish Weddings: We witnessed first-hand a Turkish wedding. It was all quite traditional, with a live Turkish band, dancing and of course, no booze. We were a bit surprised by the choice of the first song for the bride and groom though– Careless Whisper, circa 1983. Seriously.

History – There is a ridiculous amount of history in Turkey, and our guide Ugur seems to know about 9,000 years of it. We still can’t tell you if the Ottomans or the Seljuks were here first, but hopefully, by the end of the trip, we’ll have it down.

Language – Turkish is really, really hard to learn, and we’re not entirely meeting our one word-a-day goal. Mel is still struggling to learn to say ‘Thank you’.

Weather- We are essentially melting in Turkey. Our warmest day so far was 45 degrees. We haven’t seen any clouds yet, though our Guide assures us they do exist in Turkey, he’s just made special arrangements for our visit.

Cake time - OK, we aren’t sure if this is actually a custom all over Turkey, but basically, this involves a man carrying around a large cake and saying “Cake time!”, as though this is an obvious part of the day.

It’s almost impossible to describe the landscape in Cappadocia. Formed millions of years ago by 3 volcanoes, years of erosion, water, oxidation and wind have combined to create incredible, magical formations referred to as fairy chimneys. (You’ll need to check out the photos below to truly understand.) The towns making up the Cappadocia region are dotted with caves, now used as homes, boutique hotels and bars.

Because of this incredible landscape, Cappadocia is said to be the world’s top ballooning destination. There aren’t a lot of things that gets Brel out of bed at 4:15 a.m., but the 2 hour ride over Cappadocia was well worth it. Going as fast as 21 knots and traveling more than 22 km, our vantage point was second-to-none. Ballooning, unlike some of our recent adventures, is a smooth and gentle ride where you have the opportunity to see the fairy chimneys from as close of 1 inch from the ground, to as high as 1,000 metres.

As luck would have it, we came into the landing at 22 km/hour, which basically meant we had to prepare for a ‘controlled crash landing’. Don’t worry Mom, it happens all the time. Our basket landed sideways - see pic below.

We celebrated with champagne (yes it was before 8 a.m) in the poppy field where we landed.

Of course we had to partake in one of the oldest rituals in Turkey, the Turkish bath.

Basically, it goes like this: Hang out in a steam room until you think you’re going to faint. Bathing suit optional. Take a cold shower. Jump into an even colder pool. More steam room. Lie on a hot marble circular slab for additional steaming. Put hygiene (or lack of) thoughts out of your mind. Lie on a rectangular marble slab. Get violently scrubbed and exfoliated by a large Turkish man. Get covered in foam. Shower. Remind yourself to put hygiene thoughts out of your mind. Get ‘massaged’, or roughly smacked around, Rinse off in the shower.

Surprisingly, our Hammam experience only gets a Random Factor rating of 4. Maybe that’s because they didn’t paint us in war paint. (if you don’t know what this refers to, check out: http://blogs.bootsnall.com/Mel-and-Brendan/category/travel/belize/page/2)