I returned to Bali 3 years after my original trip there. Stefje and I spent 5 weeks in Canggu, an exploding village on the island of Bali. Life in Canggu is the easiest it has ever been.
At the nearby Boat Quay neighborhood, we found a relaxed bar with an outdoor pool table and posted up with PBR’s, happy to watch the endless parade of pedestrians come strolling by. While locals and western expats brushed shoulders in the bar, it became apparent that Singapore is a true melting pot of cultures. Reflecting on the day, Stefje and I noticed that we had see books written in Mandarin, Muslim women shopping for produce in headscarves, Indian construction workers, and massive Christian churches in just a small slice of the city.
We stared in awe at the long, snaking wall, which expanded far further in the distance than our eyes could see. Our minds were boggled to learn that we were exposed to less than 1% of the entire structure, which was used to repel Mongol invaders and was built, enhanced, and refurbished throughout the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644).
Here we could glimpse the larger versions of the furry creatures in all their beauty. They munched on leaves and prowled the grounds with waddling gaits through the constant precipitation, enjoying large morning meals of bamboo. With thick coats of pure white fur and dashing black outlines around their eyes, every time we caught a glimpse of one of the pandas head on it was a shocking sight.
no amount of heat, smog, or intensely cramped traffic jams could detract from my excitement as we made our way through the city. That’s because we were here to cap our trip to India with a visit to the Taj Mahal, one of the 7 wonders of the world! Within an hour we had laid eyes on it for the first time, the marble domes appearing first through a tiny pocket of archway and then revealing themselves in their full splendor as we worked our way through the outer gardens and main gateway. Construction required more than 10 years and 20,000 people, resulting in the single example that best signifies the height of architecture for the Mughal empire.
Famous due to its selling point as the birthplace of yoga, Rishikesh has long inspired spiritual seekers. The city is also a draw for domestic tourists and pilgrims because it is situated in the foothills of the mighty Himalaya and serves as the origin of the Ganges river. Hindus consider this body of water to be a living manifestation of their god, meaning they will travel far and wide to pray at its banks and swim in the murky brown waters.
On the outskirts of town there were a few basic campsites, but as the population faded away nature began to dominate. The trees grew more tightly spaced and the undergrowth was thick with weeds and ferns. Eventually we came upon a small waterfall, which was gorgeously reflecting the morning light. Water rushed down across a series of two platforms, splashing and careening over smooth rocks to drown out all other sounds. Isaiah found the locale so peaceful that he almost instantly fell asleep, while I let myself become enraptured by the wild nature and solitude that is all too often difficult to come by in India.
While knees rubbed against noses, guns flew aorund shoulders, tight salutes were exchanged, and gut-wrenching screams were hurled across the border, both crowds exploded with energy. Despite the overwhelming feeling of competition between the two countries which have spilled so much bloodshed in defense of their storied border, there was a single moment of unification. A chant of "HINDU-STAN' began as a murmur and quickly surger to dominate both sides of spectators, a reminder that these two disparate countries share a joint past as a united empire.
We appreciated the seclusion and the magnificent beauty, but began to wonder, “who lives here?” and “where will we sleep?” Besides minor signs of altitude sickness, there wasn’t any physical dragon to slay; rather, just the mental concerns of where the next meal would come from. I sensed the day’s hike was coming to the end; thus, I exacerbated my NYC walking speed to ensure I could be the one to shout back “we have a home to sleep in!” After a slight hill, I turned the corner and saw a lady sitting amongst her barley fields sipping some tea.
Occupying fertile plains that are hemmed in by a long line of mountains on one side and an expansive lake on the other, the ancient city of Dali has long been the preeminent backpacker destination in China’s Yunnan province. The beautiful natural surroundings combine with an artistic counter-culture to form one of China’s most unique combinations of tourism and local culture.
Picking up speed from a set of rapids further to our right, the river cruised down a smooth plateau and then tumbled over a small cliff which caused everything to explode into a chaotic symphony of beauty. Suddenly huge walls of water bursted forth to swallow everything in their path, mist sprayed upwards like fireworks rising into the canyon, and wave after wave of the mess slowly eroded the rocks which have stood the test of time.
Now it’s one thing for me to describe the landscape here as “alien”, but it’s quite another for James Cameron to use it as a filming location for scenes set on another planet. Our next pit stop was heavenly mountain, the spot where they filmed parts of Avatar. Even without the accolades this individual pillar was mind-bending in the way it continuously rose from the depths of the earth, never widening from its already thin base. Truly, landscapes like this just don’t exist anywhere else on our planet!
Soon we had ascended to the highest point of the trail, which quickly became my favorite place in China. Not a single sound of humanity was audible; instead, an entire ecosystem flourished. Salamanders wiggled into the bushes at the first sights of us, worms squirmed across the pathway, birds fluttered amongst bountiful branches, butterflies surrounded us in the air, bees pollinated bright yellow flowers, and the steady hum of insects accompanied my every move. Finally, we had found a place where nature still reigned free!
Right next to hip artisan jewelry makers and kitschy tourist shops stocked with bedazzled hats, old women sat in circles drinking tea and men played rowdy games of cards. Despite signs of encroaching development, the architecture of the town retained much of its charm. Stone walls separated wooden houses with broad entrances, each one accompanied by red banners to bless the inhabitants. With plenty of flowers, traditional lanterns, and cozy interiors to take in, we took the slowest possible lap around the compact central to soak in the vibe as best we could.
We picked a trail that led back towards the city and found ourselves shrouded by canopies and overgrowth, making us feel like we had found a distinctly wild side of the peak region. From the depths of the forest, we could only hear insects and see wide views of blue ocean and wild islands, making us wonder once again if we were really in a metropolis of 7 million people. As we worked our way back to the tram, the clouds opened up to offer the most spectacular views yet. Suddenly shimmering blue waters split up an endless line of sparkling skyscrapers that reached from the depths of our view up above the highest peaks.
Despite the physical hardships, nothing could detract from the immense joy that seized us upon crossing the proverbial finish line. From the punishing slopes of the first few days to the interminable climbs of the initial ascent to the incredible strength required to cross the high passes, we successfully made it through what we unanimously agreed would be the longest through-hike of our lives.
Mountains enable explorers to feel their inexplicable presence, to stand in wonder under the shadow of something much larger than themselves, to test ourselves against the harshest of alpine landscapes, to feel the stoic stillness of their immovable slopes, and ultimately to simply be present in the midst of nature’s most powerful creations. Welcome to Gokyo, where you can feel the mountains around you!
Even within the first hour, the trail was obscenely difficult. Through ankle deep snow, we wound our way up above 5000 meters surrounded by glowing heaps of sparkling snow. In front of us, the path was downright disconcerting: we were headed straight towards a seemingly impassable chain of mountains. Some were deep black, others light grey, but each section of the ridge held its own beauty in the glow of first light. My favorite was a triangular spire which had the intense shape of an arrowhead, its deep black hue contrasting sharply against the white snow and blue skies.
Beyond the views, the thing I could sense most clearly here was the utter stillness. Whereas earlier in the day I could catch wind of a few yak bells echoing up the mountainside, there was now only the whispers of a few gusts and my own breathing to stimulate my ear drums. With the clouds gone and the mountains stoic, the only perceptible movement was of the sun slowly drifting higher into the sky.
The previous night’s rain that pattered on our windows was snow at this slightly higher elevation, at first appearing as a light dusting on the dirt, then fully immersing the trail and causing tree branches to heave under the weight. Within just 30 minutes of starting, our physical effort was rewarded with surreal views of jagged peaks adorned with a fresh coating of snow. Here evergreen trees flourished; their pungent smells mixed perfectly with the sparkling white dusting to make the whole environment feel like our own personal winter wonderland.