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Green shrubbery, mild weather, and a 5 o’clock cup of tea. You may be excused for thinking you’re in rural England (of 50 something years ago). In fact, you are some 1,500 meters above sea-level and much closer to the equator. Welcome to the magical tea country of Sri Lanka. We came. We saw… We had a nice cup of dark Ceylon tea.
I’m slumped on a cozy chair gazing at the sunset. A glass of frozen Mojito is lodged in one hand, a Gabriel Garcia Marquez book in the other. A beautiful blond just entered my peripheral vision. Which hand should give way to grab the camera?
Looking back, the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever done in my life was riding a beat-up Royale Enfield motorcycle through Northwestern India. Nothing compared to the sheer terror and utter irresponsibility. Not diving the infamous “Blue Hole” in Sinai, climbing the Kilimanjaro, participating in amateur car racing, climbing up half of the Annapurna round trek on a tiny off-roader, flying a helicopter in the IAF, and all the other silly things I’ve attempted to do during my time on this earth. No, nothing was as viscerally stupid, life-threatening experience as doing India on Two wheels.
I did it and lived to tell the tale. Below is how I did it.
Continue reading “The complete survival guide to riding a motorcycle in India”
Nobody noticed the small white dog, perched on the deck, well, who does? Probably belonged to one of the many visitors. But then it decided to start barking. A lot of unexpected things happened next.
It’s another scorching-hot, bone-dry summer day in Eilat, Israel. So hot, you can fry an omelet on the black asphalt and get your swimsuit completely dry while waiting for that egg to fry. No wonder everyone’s rushing into the cool blue waters of the Red Sea.
Everyone, including one small canine. Why did it jump in? Why was I there to photograph it? And what did the dolphin think about that hairy little guy?
Sun sets down on the vast plains of Northern Tanzania, coloring the Serengeti in Scarlet and Orange. Photographers call this time the “magic hour”. They say it’s because the warm and angular lightning makes the pictures more dramatic. But there’s another drama playing here. Dusk also happens to be the best hunting hour for the big cats, and one of them just happens readying itself for dinner on top of one of the Acacia trees ahead of us. We stop our breath in anticipation…
I’ve been to this place before, back in 1999. Looking at the temple carved inside that enormous red rock, it seems as if nothing has changed. That is until you lower your eyes and look at the picture you’ve just taken with your iPhone. Once you prayed to the lord-all-mighty. Now you pray for the 4G network not to fail as you upload your photo to your Instagram account for the whole world to marvel. It was 20 years, give or take, since I last visited Petra. It might as well have been in a different millennium. Actually, it was.
Pashupatinath Temple during dry season. It’s filthy; it’s rancid, it’s gut-wrenching, it’s Kathmandu. To say the place is merely special is to say Stalin was simply a dictator. If you are on the lookout for life-changing experiences, Pashupatinath is for you. But then, so is walking into a Ku Klux Klan congregation wearing a Star of David.
Yet, amidst the desolation, stench, and decay, something rather beautiful managed to captivate me. No, it’s not the Gaudian-colored Sadhus priests. It’s something much smaller and more intimate. This is the story about it.
Orcs! Brutish, aggressive, ugly, malevolent orcs! I’m perplexed at the site of the kill as if seeing a scene taken straight out of Tolkien’s Lord of the Ring. Just look at it. Its ears have been chewed off – probably during an argument with the other Orcs in the clan on who gets to eat Frodo first. I would have said it has a face only a mother could love, but he probably ate her already.
Three young Balinese girls doing the traditional Balih-balihan dance. How beautiful, how exotic, how peaceful. Their proud parents sit in front, all dressed up to the occasion. The tourists (me included) are at the back busy taking tons of photos. This is what many have in mind when thinking about the tiny Indonesian island of Bali. Indeed, this is what the local tourism authorities would like you to picture. Yet, while all of this is happening, less than 50 meters away – in the very same temple – a fight to the death, complete with knives, blood, and gore, is in full swing.
Wanna guess who draws in a bigger crowd?
Climbing Mt. Meru is not for the faint-hearted. But it is highly rewarding. From the massively deep, moon-like crater in the center of it, to the razor-sharp giant rim that surrounds it, Meru is all about extremes.
It’s 6am, 3 degrees south of the equator, and the sub-zero winds
are beating hard. Tired, broken, and exhausted, I glimpse as the first orange rays of sun wash the peak of the mighty Kilimanjaro. I then slump breathless against a frozen rock crevice and pass out for 10 minutes.
Welcome to Mount Meru, voted as the most rewarding and scenic climb in Africa. While I don’t know much about that research, what I do know is that ascending Mt. Meru is the most beautiful climbing trek I’ve done in my life. Yeah, that simple. I also know that despite the above titles, almost no one will follow. Below are all the reasons why you should (and why you’ll never).
