Best Kind of Lost

Vientiane, STAT!

by Noelle

October 29 – November 1

 

One of the few “knowns” during our itinerary planning has been our dates for Vientiane, due to the lucky circumstance that our friends Nicole and Ryan would be spending time in the Laos capital for some volunteer work at a local hospital at the end of October. It didn’t hurt that we’d heard wonderful things about the small French Colonial-reminiscent city perched on the Mekong River just over the border from Thailand.

So, we left India and spent the next 18 hours making our way east, by way of Bangkok (where we spent a lovely few hours sleeping at the airport before catching a shuttle to the smaller Don Muang airport across the city, hopping a plane to Udon Thani, Thailand where we then caught a van to the border and crossed into Laos). Potentially our most creative transportation schedule yet. Just trust us, the savings were worth it.  (EDITOR’S NOTE: To all you future employers reading this, that booking required creativity, research skills and budget savvy. Like what you see? Please send any and all job offers through our contact page on this blog.)

Upon weary arrival, we found a cozy little guesthouse in the center of the city, dumped our bags and followed through on the promise we’d repeated to ourselves for the last three weeks. We went for a run (the small, congested streets of India gave us a perfect excuse to avoid exercise). While the “running” was short-lived, our hour or so of winding up and down the main streets and along the (unexpectedly) muddy brown waters of the Mekong, gave us a good sense of the city.

The next day, we tagged along with Ryan and Nicole to the hospital, where the doctor they’d traveled with let us check out a surgery. Like, really check it out. Ah, the lax Laotian laws…

Scrubbing into the spinal surgery (the patient had extreme tuberculosis in her spine, and after removing some vertebra, screws were put in to keep her spine straight…yep, apparently about as painful as it sounds…) was an experience I’ll never forget (although I’m pretty sure Dave would pay good money to). New respect for all the nurses, techs and doctors out there. Mental images permanently burned into my brain aside, the opportunity to explore a local Laotian hospital was super interesting…and at times, depressing. Post-surgery, many patients (who can’t afford the $8/night private rooms) are rolled into the hallways to recover. There are groaning, bandaged patients at every turn, and your heart breaks as you watch their kids on a blanket underneath the rolling beds. A highlight was passing out candy to all the kiddos…seeing them smile while experiencing something scary made us feel like we were actually DOING something, versus feeling helpless.

This is the doctor’s 22^nd trip to Laos, and I hope he continues his incredible work for as long as humanly possible. Talk about making a life-changing difference for a lot of people. Incredible.

Anyway, we also took advantage of some of Nicole and Ryan’s free time, grabbing dinner and drinks with them during our overlapping stay. Ryan, a friend for over 15 years, is one of the funniest people I know, and he married his match in sense of humor. We spent several hours trading stories and laughing over the ever-popular Beerlao. Know it. Love it. Because it’s everywhere.

Halloween also happened to fall during our stay here, and my fear of one of my favorite holidays passing without ceremony was quickly laid to rest. WHO KNEW that Laos would celebrate in style?

After our friends headed out for a post-work celebratory stop in the Chinese islands, Dave and I continued to explore the city, hitting up several of the French bakeries for breakfast and tucking into local Lao food for dinner. What does that look like you ask?

Local cuisine is heavily influenced by Chinese flavors as that is where the Lao people originally migrated from, so it makes sense to see the remnants of that influence in many restaurants. But I still found the food to be distinctive from what I’d expect from a Chinese restaurant menu. In a good way. Also, as I mentioned, there is a heavy French influence from the time the country spent under French rule. This means baguettes are sold on street corners everywhere, and you can find a delicious, authentic French meal in most cities.

But back to what seems to be authentically their own…Laap, a spicy mixture of marinated meat and/or fish is on every menu, usually served with sticky rice (ALL HAIL THE STICKY RICE. I HEARBY DECLARE RICE PREPARATION FOREVER CHANGED!).  Eaten by hand, sticky rice is balled up and used as a vehicle for whatever else you’re eating to make it’s way to your mouth. Lemongrass and fish sauce are important ingredients and papaya salad, fish, chicken curries and noodle soups are found everywhere.

The small night market provided a better glimpse into the local cuisine, with rows of grilled meats laid out for purchase. While our rule of “no sketchy looking street food” held firm here, it was fun to walk the lines of vendor carts and get a feeling for all the offering of Lao cuisine in one spot.

Overall, a comfortable place to spend a few days. After our “city” stay, we were excited to head next to Vang Vieng to kick our feet up and pass some lazy days before heading north to Luang Prabang.

Rocking the Rails in Northern India

by Dave

October 20 – 28

 

Maintaining the particular level of luxury we’ve been traveling by for the last six months, we opted to zigzag between cities by train. But not just any train. We’re talking shared berth bunk beds with strangers. And when those didn’t work out, we opted for a bus, complete with seats that recline stay upright… because that’s how we roll.

All jokes aside (but how funny was that first paragraph?!?!) (EDITOR’S NOTE: Don’t laugh, it’ll just encourage him.), we were told that trains would be the best way to travel to get a view inside the preferred form of travel for locals, and – more importantly – would be our cheapest option. So at 5:30am after our last night in Delhi, we walked through the still-crowded streets (seriously, when do people sleep here?) to the New Delhi train station, and hopped in our coach seat car bound for Agra. The overnight bunk bed party trains would have to wait since this was just a 4-hour affair. What’s in Agra, you ask? Not much… except for a well-known mausoleum which you may know as the Taj Mahal.

Quite possibly the most-hyped tourist site we’ll see all year, we’re happy to report that it lives up to its billing as one of the Seven Wonders of the World. Commonly regarded as one of (if not the) greatest works of architecture in the world, the Taj Mahal took about 22 years to complete with the help of over 20,000 workers. Mughal Emperor Shar Jahan commissioned the building project as a dedication to his wife (EDITOR’S NOTE: Who didn’t just doodle Mrs. Shar Jahan with hearts in the margin of their journal??). And upon completion, he liked it so much that according to legend he cut off the hands of all of the workers so that no one would ever be able to build such a marvelous monument again. Which is totally sound logic…

The rest of our time in Agra was spent on the roof of our budget hotel, away from people hounding you to accept tuk-tuk rides, tours, etc. But we did venture out for one of our periodic “Treat. Yo. Self.” field trips, this time to the Oberoi Hotel for a couple cold beverages. Easily the nicest hotel I’ve ever stepped foot into, the martini and bloody mary we ordered were worth the expense despite some pretty high prices. And kudos to the staff for not giving us the “Umm, excuse me, but you don’t seem to belong here…” glares that probably would have been justified as we mingled between the high rollers who were paying as much per night for a room there as we will spend for two weeks in Southeast Asia.

So that was Agra. Pretty quick stopover, and honestly, had we been given the chance to do it over again, we likely would have just tried to fit everything into one night instead of two, but you can’t win ‘em all.

We left the home of the Taj in search of something a bit quieter and more our speed, so we were off to Udaipur. This leg of the journey was our first overnight train experience, and couldn’t have gone any better. The train was delayed a couple hours, but once we boarded and found our bunks, we were pleasantly surprised at how well we both slept on the thin and conservatively padded “beds” of our sleeper car. And our bunkmate was a friendly man who seemed to want to practice his English by speaking with us – something we have actually run into in many places. He was also nice enough to inform us what time we should expect to arrive in Udaipur after our delay, which was amazing since these trains do not have intercom systems or signs posted anywhere with station stop times.

Udaipur was where we found some elusive peace and quiet that was hard to find in Delhi and Agra. Which is to say we spent plenty of time taking in the views of Lake Pichola atop our hotel’s rooftop where we read and internetted, away from the hubbub in other parts of town.

Our first day we decided to go for a self-guided walk around the city. After our experience in Delhi, we were less intimidated by our surroundings. You want to follow us around asking non-stop if we want a tuk-tuk ride? Go ahead. Try to run us off the road while forcing your motorcycle into a non-existent seam in all the traffic? Be our guests. What’s that, giant cow? You wanna just chill on the sidewalk and force us to walk around? We’d love to.

After navigating through all sorts of unmarked streets (returning home to street signs and accurate maps and directions next year will be more of a treat than we ever imagined), we finally found a cheap lunch at Natraj Lodge, a local staple that we’d set out to find in the first place. With all-you-can-eat thali platters (essentially the same as the dal bhat we grew obsessed with in Nepal, but on steroids) for less than $3 USD, we practically put ourselves into food comas before taking a breath.

Don’t misinterpret that as a bad thing. Au contraire. It was delicious. And when $5 fills us both up for half a day? Well, that right there is a good day. (EDITOR’S NOTE: This went from zero to sixty in seconds from sitting down. To the point where I barely had time to extract my camera before heaps of food were scooped on my plate. The waiters were shoeless. We were shameless. For Olympic eaters like Kobayashi Dave and me, we were all like, “these people GET US.”)

The highlight of this stop though was a private cooking class we did for lunch one day. Since this was my doing, I picked out some menu items the day before with our teacher, Mary, and she spent that afternoon gathering ingredients from the local market for us to cook with the next day.

I would explain the names of the dishes in detail to you, but I’m not even sure I know what any of it was. In between frantically trying to take notes on my phone and misspelling just about every word in the process, we had our hands full (literally and figuratively) slicing, dicing and combining ingredients for our tasty treats. And we finished up by enjoying the fruits (and veggies and other local ingredients) of our labor. And once again, nearly induced another food coma. Don’t judge us.

We loved Udaipur, but it was time to move on to Jodhpur (so. many. –pur’s.). Jodhpur is commonly referred to as the “Blue City” due to the many homes, hotels and other buildings painted blue.

But that’s not why we came. We came for Batman. You read that right – Batman. When researching which cities to include in our short trip through India, I came across a story about how part of The Dark Knight Rises was filmed in Jodhpur – more specifically, the prison scenes where (spoiler alert) Christian Bale escapes from were filmed in the shadows of the imposing Mehrangarh Fort here. And you’re not gonna not see where Christian Bale escapes prison.

While it was another quick visit where we stayed just two nights, we found time in between all the walking around the city to sign up for a ziplining experience behind the fort which gave us some amazing views of our surroundings as the sun set behind the imposing fort.

After we shed the harnesses and wiped the sweat away (weird how I was the only one sweating profusely while doing an activity that involved a breeze blowing straight in your face 80% of the time. Hmm…), we set out for our final train ride back to Delhi. It was another overnight affair and whatever luck we had with friendly and considerate bunkmates was fully used up on the Agra>Udaipur train, because our neighbors on this journey loved them some late night conversation, spotlights above our beds, forced bed tradesies (EDITOR’S NOTE: No, it’s cool, I totally wanted to sleep less than a foot from the top of the car to allow your totally able wife to have the bottom bunk – while Dave rides dirty in the middle bunk. Fine. But if you try to take my blanket again, only one of us is coming out of this alive.) and good old-fashioned loogie-hocking in the morning to wake us up. Needless to say, we didn’t have quite as good a night of sleep this time around, but any negative memories in our mind were quickly wiped away when my dad’s colleague, Mohan, picked us up in Delhi and let us eat like a king and queen yet again (more on that here) before we headed to the airport for our flight out.

It was a lot packed into a little amount of time, but we truly enjoyed our tour of India. The food everywhere was amazing, and once we learned to embrace the chaotic harmony of the place we really enjoyed walking the streets, interacting with the people and just taking it all in.

And with that, we were ready to go from a country where day-to-day life seems to go 100mph at all times to one that embraces the slogan of “Please don’t rush.” Time for Laos.

Teach Me How to Delhi

by Dave

October 17 – 19

 

India.

Oh. My. Gosh.

This country.

India is… a lot. A lot of noise, a lot of pollution, a lot of smells, a lot of people. And just a lot to take in, especially after coming off Nepal and what could likely turn out to be the most peaceful part of our year. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, this was yet another place we didn’t expect to visit when we set off on this trip. Not because it didn’t geographically fit in with our route as much as it didn’t fit in with our acknowledged breaking points. We knew that a visit to India would be testing fate and likely just counting down the minutes until one of us would have a meltdown or just surrender to this in-your-face (most notably the nostrils and ears) country and society. But alas, we heard from so many people and read so many articles about how uniquely enthralling the place is and we ran out of excuses not to go.

But we made a bit of a compromise with India. We’d give it a visit, as long as it would let us out again with some level of dignity if we kept the visit to less than two weeks. And once we found out that October is one of the coolest times of year to visit (apparently highs in the 90s still qualify as “cool”), 11 days in northern India were booked and we were on our way. To be clear, we’re under no illusion that a trip that short would qualify us to give a completely accurate assessment of the country, but the following is just based on our observations while we were there.

For those of you that have been paying close attention, we typically book guesthouses, B&B’s and apartment rentals as we travel. In Delhi we made an exception and went with a hostel in the Pahar Ganj neighborhood (right near the border between Old and New Delhi), booking a room at the pleasantly and surprisingly clean and livable Smyle Inn which became a respite to retire to at the end of our exhausting days. Our stay included airport taxi pick-up service (always a plus), so our first exposure to Delhi was being thrown right into its notoriously notorious traffic.

Here, lane lines and speed limits are mere suggestions rather than laws. Changing speeds constantly, we were in four-wide traffic on a two-lane road. Had we tried, we could have easily been shaking hands with drivers and passengers from the other cars without even slightly straining ourselves to lean forward in our seats.

And forget shutting your eyes and trying to doze off to take your mind off the traffic – the honking of horns is inescapable. Many cars and trucks (typically the ones without side-view mirrors) displayed bumper stickers asking you to honk your horn to let them know you’re there.

Honking your horn is more of a non-verbal conversation tactic than an aggressive act like it’s typically perceived in the States. More of a “Hey, how ya doin’? Say hi to you mother for me,” than a “Are you serious? Get the f out of my way!!!” I don’t even know if road rage exists here despite the fact that the conditions bring together all the finest ingredients for it.

Another thing you can help but notice after even a small amount of time in the country is that there is a large divide between the “haves” and “have nots,” and nowhere can you see the dichotomy better than from the clogged streets and allies. You can be stuck in a traffic jam like we were on our first ride and see a Mercedes limousine with only a couple people stretched out in back rubbing bumpers with open-air tuk-tuks, bicycle rickshaws, ox carts and motorbikes, all while watching a family of four riding perilously on a two-person motorcycle. And then in your periphery you’ll glimpse a small community of makeshift tents set up under an underpass where friends and family crowd around a pot of food, almost oblivious to the congestion on the streets surrounding them.

So right from the jump, we could tell this would be unlike anywhere else we had been. As a whole, the country  supports over 1.2 BILLION people. Yes, billion – nearly 1 billion more than the United States. We’re talking about a place with about four times as many people as the U.S. even though it’s just barely over 1/3 the size of America in land mass. Think about that.

We would explore Agra, Udaipur and Jodhpur during our week and a half in the region (more to come soon on those cities), but as I mentioned we started in Delhi, a city of just under 10 million people crammed into the amount of space that seemed to us like it would comfortably fit half that.

A good illustration of this crazy crush of people could be seen as we traversed the city by car (full disclosure: in an air-conditioned, chauffeured car loaned generously from my dad’s Delhi colleague, Mohan). During one leg of our tour it took us about 2.5 hours to travel between two major landmarks – mind you, they’re only 10 miles apart… so, yeah. But the long travel times were worth it as we got to check out four of the notable landmarks around the city – India Gate, Red Fort, Akshardham Temple and Lotus Temple.

And yet despite all the traffic and all the inconveniences we ran into, you can’t help but embrace many of the people and appreciate the living conditions and surroundings they’re dealing with. Noelle and I have both been fortunate to come from pretty comfortable upbringings where we were never worried about having food on the table and a pillow to lay our heads on at night. It’s easy to take those things for granted, but get a swift kick of reality when, for example, you go down to reception at your hostel to request an extra pillow and notice the receptionist sleeps overnight in the lobby on the hard floor. You begin to appreciate the work ethic of people who may cause frustration with certain things lost in translation when you realize they are always willing to help out however they can (not surprising in a country where the work week is six days instead of five). And like the conversational horn honking in traffic, the same goes for crowded streets and sidewalks on foot. It can be a total jam in certain spots, but it’s just the way it is and everyone remains calm. Many friends just stick together by holding hands, regardless of age or sex (whereas at home, two grown men holding hands would turn heads for many passersby). Of course, some may be more than friends, but it was clear in many cases, their passion for everything (talking loudly, spicy food, LED lights) spilled over to friendships as well.

And just when you think everything is too much to handle, India goes and TOTALLY redeems itself. I’m talking about the food. It’s amazing. All of it. Everywhere. Whether it was in the not-to-be-forgotten lunch at Sita Ram Diwan Chand (say that 10 times fast) of chole bhature (the “chole” being a spicy chick pea mix, and “bhature” being the fried bread you spread it onto) where you can fill up for less than a couple dollars per person, or the endless choices of curries, naans, soups, dumplings, etc. that overwhelm you (in the best way) with the flavors and seasonings, the food didn’t let us down (Side note: we avoided street food as a general guideline, so if we had not done that I’d likely not be saying the “didn’t let us down” part because of a bout with Delhi Belly).

We got an even closer look at authentic Indian cuisine on our visit to Mohan’s home, when he invited us not once, but twice, to dine with his family.

Our first go-round came at the end of our day touring the city with the help of his private driver (as if that wasn’t generous enough), where we were treated to one of our better meals during our time in India, a mix of home-cooked deliciousness from Mohan’s mother-in-law to give us a taste of what typical south Indian cuisine is like (since the family is from the southern state of Kerala). Naturally I’ve forgotten the names of some of the dishes, but fish curries, grilled chicken, multiple types of rice and some sort of coconut-based spicy paste abounded. Oh, and there was a rice pudding that tasted like Fruity Pebbles. So that did not suck. And to top that off, we were welcomed back on our last day in the country before our departure flight out of Delhi, and once again were given the royal treatment with another amazing spread of food that was impossible to turn down when our new favorite Indian chef kept asking us if we wanted extra helpings. (EDITOR’S NOTE: Dave quickly became the adopted favorite of the sassy saucier due to his penchant for seconds. She called him her “son” and repeatedly asked him to return soon. Sibling rivalry kicked in, but maturity trumped my infantile instinct to start tap dancing for attention. Okay, fine. There was ONE shuffle-ball-change.)

Sure, India has its drawbacks, and they will rear their head at you if you don’t know they’re coming (EDITOR’S NOTE: Which, really, no one would blame you for because it’s impossible to truly imagine until you’re in the middle of the street dodging between the cows, throngs of people and vehicles, debris piles and the man using the sidewalk as his own personal restroom). But there is something intoxicating about the place that gives it a dangerously addictive quality. So as happy as I am to have returned to a slower pace of our day-to-day life, I can’t separate myself from the urge to just really want to go back.

A Week in Nepal’s Capital

by Noelle

October 12 – 17

 

While our arrival into Nepal’s capital of Kathmandu was actually reminiscent of our first moments in Ethiopia, there were some early indicators that this would be an obvious upgrade (to start with, there were no flowery leis upon arrival in Africa…it’s in the DETAILS PEOPLE!).

The dirt roads are pocked with potholes every few feet and the oppressive dust kicked up by the never-ending line of motorbikes and cars keeps visitors and locals alike covering their noses and mouths with face covers sold at every corner. Every available building surface is covered with advertisements for any number of  guesthouses and products, the most popular including beer, cell phones, Pepsi and Coke and the skies are absolutely choked with power lines (good news for development, bad news for scenery).

Like Ethiopia, Nepal is an incredibly poor country (I think it’s the second or third poorest country in South Asia at the moment), and that’s evident everywhere you look, from the rock bottom menu prices to the state of public places and roads and the disrepair of buildings to the hungry families begging in the streets. However, after you get past the depressing weight of that realization, you see that the people here are full of hope, happy to help strangers and eager to ensure you’re enjoying your time in the country they’re proud to call home. The smiling faces show how diverse the country is, with features ranging from Asian, Indian and Tibetan.

Our first up-close-and-personal experience of the friendly and generous nature of the Nepalese people was with our sherpa (you remember NIMA don’t you??) and his family. The day before we departed on our trek, he invited us into their home to have dinner with his family.

The wife and mother-in-law prepared dal bhat, the local cuisine featuring rice, lentil soup and vegetables while the son shared stories of his love of basketball and his studies at school, and their dog, Gasper, pretty much just sat around being adorable. We gathered in the family’s living/dining room (where Nima and his wife also slept) and were helped to seconds…and thirds…before insisting we were stuffed (EDITOR’S NOTE: Note to self: must learn “While this is absolutely delicious, thank you, I am stuffed to the rafters and can no longer breathe,” in Nepali before visiting a local home again. Then again, if this is the only type of “problem” we have to deal with, we’re in pretty good shape.). The room was filled floor to ceiling with Buddhist religious symbols, giving indication of just how important faith is to the family. The kindness of Nima’s family gave insight into what we would encounter during our 3 weeks on the road trail.

After the trek (read more about it here and here), we returned to Kathmandu to spend a week awaiting our Indian visas (we had to wait out one of the country’s many Hindu festivals when all schools and business were shut down) and explore more of the city.

We visited the Swayambhunath Temple, nicknamed the Monkey Temple because who in the world can pronounce Swayambhunath for, well, these guys…

We spent time roaming the Boudha neighborhood (a less touristy neighborhood where we stayed for most of our time), walking the dirt roads that ringed the city and, of course, continuing our rampage of dal bhat and tea consumption (EDITOR’S NOTE: Still going through dal bhat withdrawal more than a month later…).

But the highlight of our week-long recoup week in Kathmandu had to be the Momo cooking class from – you guessed it – Nima and his family. We headed over one rainy afternoon to learn how to recreate the tasty steamed dumplings and while we won’t share ALL our secrets (because how else can we impress you unless we get home and cook you MOMOS??), here’s a small glimpse into the day’s adventure.

After the much needed laundry, rest and recouping, we were off to India. Namaste, Nepal, and thanks for the memories!

The Air Up There

by Dave

October 4 and 10

 

I’ve always been more of an aspirational outdoorsy person than an actual outdoorsy person, a fact that hasn’t been lost on my significant other (EDITOR’S NOTE: I’m totally for “supporting your man in his dreams” but when those dreams put my comfort and accessibility to a hot shower at stake, a spade must be called a spade.). I love me some browsing at REI, Patagonia and other outdoor stores back home, even though I rarely actually buy anything. (EDITOR’S NOTE: That -20°C sleeping bag he’s been eyeing? Would sit in our attic for the remainder of our marriage.) My camping, hiking and wilderness creds pretty much begin and end with my beard. But my brother and sister both led camping trips throughout college and have all sorts of certifications, so I’ll just keep clinging to that association for now.

So, where was this going? Ah, right – now that we’ve done the Annapurna Circuit, I’m pretty sure I’ve earned some sort of… something. For a couple that resides at sea level in a plains state, this was a big deal. We’d already done a few days and nights of trekking and camping in Ethiopia, but nowhere near the heights and length of time we had in Nepal. We started and ended at lower elevations in the valleys surrounding the Annapurna region (read: sweating profusely), but the temperatures dropped as the elevation rose to provide some of the most stunning views and scenery either of us has ever seen. Period.

So now that Noelle has explained what a typical day on the trail looked like, we can talk about some of the high points (literally) of the hike.

Just past the halfway point, on day twelve, we crossed Thorong La Pass. Being the highest point we’d step foot on during the trek, you might think (like us) that we’d reach the Pass at or near the end of the trek. But, like us, you’d be wrong and the downhill afterward would force your joints to say “uncle” to the Himalayas while littering the trail with your dignity. But I digress…

Thorong La sits at just over 17,700 ft above sea level, which means it’s pretty effing high it just so happens to be at a higher elevation than Everest Base Camp (excuse me while I finish putting that feather in my cap). Most days followed the routine Noelle outlined in her post, but the day before and the day of the Pass were an exception. The day prior we had a relatively short hike up High Camp, where we’d set off from early the next morning. However, we had to deal with a bit of earth rain, wind and fire fog. Which wouldn’t be a huge deal, except for the fact that we were walking up steep switchbacks of crushed-stone trails while trying to avoid the unpleasant land mines the passing donkeys left us to deal with. And as soon as we did get up to our room at High Camp, rain turned to snow (EDITOR’S NOTE: But not before the sleeting rain played Space Invaders with us as targets during the steep climb. PEW PEW! PEW PEW!). Which almost never happens there in October. Even Nima – our wise, trusty, all-knowing Sherpa – couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen it when we asked him about it. Either that, or he didn’t fully understand our question. Either one is plausible.

The next morning we got started up the trail at 4:30am, guided by the long line of headlamps from everyone making the ascent. For the first hour, it remained pitch black from the overcast skies, and the trail was swept under an almost eerie silence with everyone too focused on their own breathing and making sure they didn’t make a wrong step. Once the sun started to peak out we could finally put the camera to use, so I’ll give up trying to describe it with words and let these pictures explain the rest.

After the pass we had six days of excessive downhill trails and our knees were begging for mercy (EDITOR’S NOTE: Seriously? Whoever said 30 is the new 20 never talked to my knees). But on our second-to-last day of trekking we had another 4:30am start to catch the sunrise and magnificent views from Poon Hill lookout point. Unlike at Thorong La, our hike this morning was under a blanket of star-filled skies. Not a single cloud to obstruct our view in any direction.

From Poon Hill you can see an impressive panorama of peaks, highlighted by Annapurna 1 (26,545 ft), Dhaulagiri (26,795 ft) and Fishtail (22,942 ft, considered a holy mountain that is prohibited from being climbed).

It goes without saying that the views and scenery throughout the trek were pretty stellar, but these two spots set themselves apart.

Sweet, Sweet September

by Dave and Noelle

 

We continue to separately mark our favorite moments of each month, as an exercise to remember all the incredible things we are experiencing. It’s fun to read them to each other before sharing them with you all, and seeing how many match up and how many are vastly different (rewind to the Hawks winning scoring Dave’s #1 position in June).

This month, we spent a few remaining days in Turkey, frolicked through Greece, had a visit from the Overly family and began our trek through Nepal, so there was lots to consider.

So, without further ado, we bring you September’s Top 10 highlights.

 

She Says

10. Getting lost in Northern Greece. Our day spent in Larissa after incorrectly hopping off our train a stop early led to unexpected exploration of an adorable town that would have otherwise been missed. We made lemonade.

9. Catching the sunset from Meteora gave us a stunning panoramic view that I won’t soon forget. We got there a bit early and lay on the rocks overlooking the jagged horizon. You literally can’t get a view like this anywhere else.

8. On one of our last days in Turkey, we headed across the Bosphorus to spend a day on the Asian side of Istanbul, in the neighborhood of Kadikoy. We hopped a ferry with little plans outside of breakfast and exploration. We ended up at a tiny bar, enjoying drinks with new friends for the better part of the day. Anytime we have an audience outside of each other, we triple in chattiness (and funniness, depending who you ask. Ask us? We’re a regular Johnny Carson and Ed McMahon).

(Of course, our answer for who the star vs hype guy is may differ..)

7. The joy of experiencing a home cooked meal is something we didn’t realize we’d miss so much during our year on the road. So dinner at Nima’s home (our sherpa) in Kathmandu with his wife, mother-in-law and son, was a treat.

6. With the pace and limitations of our travels, the opportunity for consistent good workouts is hard to come by. The pure physicality of the trek through the Himalayas made me happy. Feeling healthy and strong amplified the positivity of the whole experience.

5. Our hike from Fira to Oia in Santorini was beautiful, and as you may know by now, I’m a sucker for sea views.

4. Surprising my mom and dad up from the airport was like a shot of adrenaline straight to the blood stream. Seeing their smiles as we stood waiting at arrivals was irreplaceable!

3. Cruising the winding streets of Santorini on an ATV with Dave was both romantic and exhilarating. The sun soaked views as we streaked through the small towns made for a day to remember.

2. As promised, Turkish food has once again earned a spot on my “Top 10” list as we continued our pursuit of really letting ourselves go into the first days of September. This time? The breakfasts. We spent two separate mornings agonizing over breakfast spreads of cheeses, veggies, dips and carbs, deciding which bites earned the spot of being last.

1. There was no doubt what would score my #1 spot this month, but only how to frame it up. Spending a week in Greece with my family was unbelievably heart-filling and relaxing. The visit from home was more than we could have asked for, and will be a memory from the trip that I always treasure.

 

He Says

10. Sitting in on a prayer ceremony in Bagarchap, Nepal for a family’s fallen loved one. It’s traditional for families to invite monks into their home once a week for seven weeks for day-long prayers for spirit of the recently passed. We passed countless monasteries, prayer wheels and other religious sites and symbols in Nepal, but this was the only time we got first-hand exposure to a traditional ceremony for a taste of the local customs and culture that we had not expected to see.

9. Doing Istanbul right. While we haven’t had any places we’ve visited and fully disliked, it’s still somewhat rare to feel like you did absolutely everything you wanted. Istanbul was an exception. Between exploring the many neighborhoods, seeing the major sites and successfully eating our way across the whole place, we left Istanbul with a sense of satisfaction that would be tough to match for future destinations.

8. Our bed at the Athens Marriott. When you’ve been sleeping on hard springs and other poor excuses for mattresses for 4+ months, these sorts of things stand out.

7. Dinner with our sherpa’s family in Kathmandu before the start of our trek. Our first exposure to dal bhat was not only delicious, but it was a rare moment we’ve had on the trip so far where we’ve been welcomed into a family’s home to get a peak into what life is like for locals.

6. Our Turkish Breakfast at Piraye in Kadikoy won’t soon be forgotten. Our first exposure to this genius breakfast spread was an overwhelming mix of honeys, jams, breads, fruits, veggies and eggs. All this while sitting on a sunny patio with some Louis Armstrong playing and m’wife across the table and I was in my happy place.

5. Exploring the clifftop monasteries of Meteora. The pictures don’t do it justice, but they’ll have to suffice for now.

4. Our surprise pick-up of Noelle’s parents at the Athens airport. Our excitement for their arrival was understandably high. They had no idea we’d be there, and their reaction was exactly what we had hoped for.

3. The changing scenery during our first week of trekking in Nepal. We didn’t know exactly what to expect until we really got going, but the first week saw us moving from valleys dominated by rice paddies to views of snowcapped peaks. The higher altitudes were still to come, but it was a good way to ease into things on the trail.

2. Family dinners with the Overlys in Mykonos. Beautiful beach views, delicious food and unbeatable company. It was a great combination that made us feel like we’d never left home… if, you know, we lived on a beach at home. Not to mention the dinners typically were followed by a long, relaxing day at the beach with said company.

1. Exploring Santorini on an ATV. Noelle planned a pretty stellar day around the island, complete with a frappe right on the water, an amazing lunch, a stop at a local brewery, and a quick stop at a local winery to take in the sunset above the caldera. Did I mention we were doing all of this on Santo-friggin-rini?

These Boots Were Made for Walking

by Noelle

September 21 – October 12

 

And that’s just what they did. For 3 weeks and 165 miles.

Our trek through Nepal will remain one of the most visually stunning parts of our round the world adventure. With a grueling schedule that included several hours of hiking along the Annapurna Circuit each day and an insane amount of rice, we loved every minute (okay maybe not every minute…but more on that in Dave’s next post).

Our sherpa (or guide) is named Nima Sherpa. Because that’s how Nepal rolls. The name you attach to your first is your caste. Nima is from a small town in the Everest region, and is part of the Sherpa caste. He has a family name, but rarely uses it. Just a nugget of “stuff you should know if you ever go to Nepal.” AND YOU SHOULD. And? You will call Nima. Because he just may be the nicest man on the planet. We nicknamed him ‘Man of the People’ early on due to the fact that he KNOWS EVERYONE. And if he doesn’t, he gets to know them. Because he’s, you know, interested in peoples’ traditions, families and feelings. We love this man.

We also brought along not one, but two porters. These are the rockstars that carry our bags. Because we are wusses. The second was added after one picked up our bags and realized we PACKED FOR A YEAR, and not a 3-week trek. Oops. The first earned the nickname Hollywood because when he smiled, he rocked a gen-u-wine movie star megawatt smile. Hottie. The second? We called him Talkie. This got confusing, because it was originally meant to be ironic due to his mute-like tendencies, but then he got all chatty mid-trek. It was too late to go back.

This was our posse.

To give you a better idea of what this three-week chunk of our lives looked like, I’ve provided “A Day in the Life” look below.

5:30 am: Alarm goes off. Noelle ignores it. Dave springs out of bed like a freaking tiger from his cage of sleep. WTF.

5:45 am: Dave reminds me patiently that it’s time to get up. He’s all rolling up his sleeping bag.

6:00 am: COFFEE! I’m convinced the in-room delivery is a veiled attempt to make sure we’re awake for our 6:30 am breakfast time. They don’t know about Springs McGee.

6:45 am: We actually arrive at breakfast. Nima is all smiles despite his confusion on how our clocks in America must run 15 minutes behind. (In fact, they actually run 9 hours and 45 minutes behind. What’s the 45 minutes about, Nepal? Seriously.)

6:45 – 7:30 am: BREAKFAST! And more coffee. Or black tea in Dave’s case. Breakfast ranges based on where we are and what is locally available (because you’ll remember, we’re in THE MIDDLE OF THE HIMALAYAS, so there’s no Jewel truck making daily deliveries of groceries). We eat what God gave them. Or ramen. There’s always ramen. And Snickers or Mars bars. So that’s cool.

7:30 – 9:45 am: We head out into the great beyond. The scenery changes, and it’s stunning in each phase it takes. The rolling rice paddies change to lush forests of pine and then again to a rocky terrain that tears up your knees, and finally to the barren mud hills as elevation peaks. And back down again. The weather also varies based on the elevation, so some days it’s shorts and a tank top (Dave especially loves these days), other days it’s a down jacket. Right. And while at times we were the only people for miles (literally, as we came on the heels of rainy season’s end and before the rush in November), there is undoubtedly always some sort of path, which while at times was disappointing (who doesn’t want to feel like Marco Polo?), was also deeply comforting.

9:45 – 10: 15 am: Tea Break! We have become addicts. From the sweetness of Milk Tea, the strange salty flavor of Tibetan Tea, the puckering tang of Ginger-Honey-Lemon Tea to the plain comforting warmth of Black Tea, we couldn’t get enough. And Nima was the anti-sponsor. He was at every turn, offering us tea, feeding our addiction. It’s just what’s done.

Sometimes you veer from the path to taste the local offerings, like in the case of Seabuck Thorn Juice (the SCHNOZBERRIES tastes like SCHNOZBERRY!), and you regret it, wistfully thinking of your old friend, Milk Tea.

10:15 am – noon: Back on the road for about two hours, where we make our way through more of the beautiful terrain, and sometimes smaller villages and are able to catch a glimpse of daily life for these mountain dwellers. The smiles are abundant and a friendly “namaste” comes readily (although usually only after first offered by us). Kids look after one another while women work in the fields and the men….well, not sure what exactly they do, except sit around and chat. Seriously. Not sure why this is the custom, but it is.

Noon – 1 pm: LUNCH! MY FAVORITE. This is where we try the local dal bhat. Which we each have 46 times during our time in Nepal. This rice-based dish is always paired with a lentil soup and curried vegetables, but from there, it depends on the place. We have it for lunch and dinner (customary for the Nepalese), taking the occasional greasy break for a change in routine (which we almost always regret). Lunch takes place at a picturesque tea house along our route, run by a local family who is always incredibly friendly. As busy season has yet to ramp up, we are usually the only diners in the place, allowing for lazy lunches with plenty of time for reading or chatting (because really, there aren’t enough hours in the day to tell Dave all the things I’m thinking. Never.).

Sometimes there’d be a surprise with our meals, a la Nima. Something to keep our energy up. That could mean a Snickers bar, sliced long ways to look like a fancy dessert, or perhaps some more apple pie or it could mean YAK CHEESE! Apparently, it’s full of protein and while the first bite is a little waxy, you learn to love it. Crave it. Most people go on this hike and lose weight. We see your weight loss and raise you YAK CHEESE.

1 – 3:30 pm-ish: Our final leg of this daily journey is always meditative. Full of rice (and tea), we each settle into the peaceful sounds of our own footsteps and fall contemplative. It’s glorious. And the views continue. (EDITOR’S NOTE: Depending on the elevation change during this portion of the day, it’s not uncommon for my “meditative” state to be replaced by thoughts of “I immediately regret that decision to ask for seconds” or “I think I just threw up in my mouth.”)

Mid-Afternoon: We arrive at the Tea House we’ll be spending the evening in. And if not by tea, we’re greeted with fresh crushed apple juice (the small village of Marpha is known for it’s apple orchards), which blows our minds. It’s like Granny Smith and marshmallows had a love child (EDITOR’S NOTE: Yup. Let that mental image really settle in…). After settling into our room, where Hollywood and Talkie have so kindly put our heavy bags already, we spend hours reading in the cozy rooms or porches of these modest houses nestled in the mountains. It becomes a ritual I long for most of the day, since there is nothing better than curling up with a good book after a shower (if, of course, there is running and/or hot water…both absences are risk factors) and a hard day of physicality.

When we still have the energy, after settling in, we wander the towns and explore the hillsides, catching the daily lives of the locals and learning that each village has its own personality.

Between 6:30 and 8:30 pm: We eat dinner slightly later than my Naples-living grandma does, and we rarely change it up. Dal bhat for 2. However, to keep the home cooks guessing, we at times add a side of Tibetan bread, which is basically a funnel cake without the powdered sugar. Afterward, we lounge around letting our rice and carnival food settle, play cards, toss dice or catch each other up on our respective days fall into silence as we eagerly delve back into our books. We also make friends along the way, as you tend to do when you’re 2 of 20 people making their way miles through the wilderness. Our favorite tagalongs were a foursome from Down Under (with one kiwi in the bunch) and we loved the shiny distraction of other people to fill the long hours each evening.

9 pm: We’re in bed. For reals. It’s Dave’s grandpa-like dream come true. I usually pout and stay up reading past bedtime, but after realizing how much a day of trekking takes a toll on both your mental and physical stamina, my eyelids get heavy and I nod off, dreaming of tea and dal bhat.

And it all begins again the next day.

I tell ya. One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

 

Give me an O! Give me a V! Give me an E! (You get the picture…)

by Noelle

September 10 – 20

 

OKAY, NOW WE CAN TALK ABOUT FAMMMMMMMMILY! WOOOOOO!

Not long after Dave and I hatched the brilliant plan to surprise my parents at the Athens airport by arriving shortly before they did, we realized the dozens of things that could go wrong in a country where none of us spoke the language and we were technologically powerless. What if they didn’t see us (and vice versa) as they exited the airport? What if my mom had her OWN hatched plan that accidentally would ruin OUR hatched plan (if you’ve met her, you know she’s capable of many-a-hatched-plan)? What if my folks had already hired a car to take them from the airport to the hotel and Dave and I didn’t fit in with them? And the guilt I’d have when my dad would inevitably pay for both the unused small car AND the second we’d all pile into would thus diminish my glee at said plan’s success? (EDITOR’S NOTE: You can imagine how much fun it was to listen to and consider ev.ery.thing. that could have possibly gone wrong…)

In the end, the worrying was needless. The surprise was awesome, and after my mom and I stopped shaking from the awesomeness of it all (or was it from the frappe we shoved into her hand the moment she landed?), we hopped in a car (that fit all of us) and headed to a little piece of paradise: the Athens Marriott (cue angels harking).

After months of hard mattresses and closet-sized bathrooms, our plush, king-sized mattress and enormous, sparkly-clean shower sent us into fits of superlatives….”this is THE MOST comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in,” and, “this is THE BEST shower I’ve ever taken,” or, “this is the MOST PERFECT hotel room that has ever lived.” The Athens Marriott’s Trip Advisor page is BLOWIN’ UP.

Anyway, after a glorious evening of room service and PJ partying, a second morning ferry ride brought us to the shores of Mykonos, where we perilously snaked our way up the narrow, winding road to our Greek-style home for the next 7 days. We kicked back with some of the tasteless local wine (available by the plastic jug) or beer (your pick of Mythos or Alpha) and settled in.

Spending time with my mom (with whom I enjoy a mutually unhealthy relationship…you know the one that many 30-somethings enjoy where the line between being your best friend and mother is unavoidably blurred?) and dad (whose no-nonsense approach to “what to do today” decision making and insistence on picking up the tab was a life vest for two gypsy travelers) was like filling up a big old reserve tank of happy that I knew I could tap into for months to come. My mom and I barely came up for air the first 48 hours. BUT THERE WAS SO MUCH TO SAY!

My sister and her husband (also named Dave…we still haven’t figured out that solve) joined us a couple days later and my happy tank spilled right on over. My posse was in town.

Upon their arrival the crew headed to dinner in Mykonos Town and Dave and I enjoyed our first official dinner company in 5 months. But after an ‘Opa’ and some fried cheese, we were right back in the saddle.

In the days that followed, we wandered the winding streets of Mykonos Town, admiring the local art and handmade jewelry, and taking in the iconic 16^th century windmills while sipping frappes or Coca Cola Lights in Little Venice. We spent a few lazy days down on the shores enjoying some of the picturesque beaches the island is known for, and many others strewn across beach chairs on our sprawling patio with cold local beers in every other hand. We ate rich, seafood risottos (mostly me) and kebabs (the Daves) and other dishes heavy with fresh ingredients overlooking the water. And just WERE.

Kristin and her Dave taught us a dice game that provided hours of laughs (mostly directed at my terrible luck) (EDITOR’S NOTE: “Terrible luck” also means this activity gets added to the list of games Noelle does not enjoy for the sole reason that she can’t win every single time.), and we found ourselves reluctantly shoving clothes in our bags before it seemed we even fully unpacked. But the promise of a closer exploration of Athens (and another night at the Marriott!!) helped ease the desire to never leave the island. Otherwise, you’d still find me there, holding my family hostage, frantically smashing plates if they tried to leave.

Our 36 hours in Athens were a whirlwind, with a walking tour in the morning where we visited the big hitters like the Temple of Zeus, Hadrian’s Arch, Parliament, the site of the original Olympic Stadium and of course, the Acropolis. Like Rome, you can’t go anywhere without running smack into a relic of the past.

Fully exhausted, we spent the late afternoon in the rooftop pool overlooking the famous ruins (Seriously! This Marriott!). The city was rich with history, for sure, but I think we all found it a bit wanting for cleanliness and the vibe we were hoping for. Luckily, we were with the best company around, so our surroundings made little difference.

Our last supper was bittersweet. Saying goodbye to my family was heartbreaking, but as our next chapter included our long-awaited trek in Nepal, I put on a brave face as I hugged my sister a third time.

While we’re not ready to come home just yet, it was just the right time for a little home to come to us.

Getting Our Greek On In Santorini

by Noelle

September 7 – 9

 

IT’S FINALLY TIME! THE OVERLYS DECEND ON GREECE FOR A VISIT!

Sorry, I seem to have gotten ahead of myself.

I don’t usually like to mix business with pleasure, but our Greek Island time was an exception. Dave and I spent a few days on Santorini playing honeymoon redux before my family joined us for a long week exploring that other Greek Island you’ve heard of, Mykonos.

First things first: Santorini.

After a 7-hour sunrise ferry ride from Athens, Dave and I found ourselves gazing upon the sun-soaked shores of an island that had tantalized us from the photos of friends who had ventured here before us. The clusters of white buildings so identified with the Greek islands dominated the landscape, and we were anxious to hit land.

Our room at Ecoxenia was everything you want in a Greece respite. A small patio overlooking the sea with sunset views that make you wish the sun would hover permanently just above the horizon, and a small, cozy, lofted bedroom with a window that allowed you to wake with the sunrise. Sigh.

Our itinerary included this: nothing. We were content to sit and soak in the scenery, with quiet hours spent reading and perhaps poking around the island. And yet, after one day of exquisite relaxing, we found ourselves eager for activity. So we spent our second afternoon making the hike along the caldera rim path from one end of the island (the more tourist-heavy, Fira) back to where we were staying (the slightly quieter, Oia), taking in views of the infinite stretch of sea on both sides.

We continued the adventure the next day, renting an ATV and logging miles as we cruised the bus-clogged main roads and empty back streets. Starting the morning on the quiet seaside spot of Amoudi Bay, we lazily sipped our frappe (Dave) and freddo (me) while listening to the water lap against the sides of the fishing boats.

I had lined up a couple surprise destinations for Dave, the first starring the new Santorini Brewing Company. A Greek, a Serbian, an American and a Brit walk into a bar started the operation that makes only three brews…Yellow Donkey (bitter) and Red Donkey (fruity and full bodied) and our favorite, Crazy Donkey (IPA). I knew with Dave’s obsession with these misery-loves-company mules it would be love at first sight (EDITOR’S NOTE: The Crazy Donkey was probably the best beer I’ve had since we left, and there was a donkey on the label, so what’s not to love?). We sampled all three with glee, as craft beers had been gone with the days of Prague. After a post-Donkey lunch of pan-fried crusted feta cheese, baked white eggplant, pomegranate salad, grilled octopus and strawberry cheesecake bites at a spot hidden behind a church atop one of the many hills, we rolled ourselves out set off to get lost on the winding roads.

We found ourselves whiling away the afternoon roaming the unique black beaches and getting lost in the small streets of the traditional village of Megalochori, enjoying the perfect, cloudless day. After capping off our 4-wheeled joyriding with a stop at the Santo Winery for some local (average, if I’m honest) wine and snacks before heading back to our love nest, we were well on our way to chugging the Greek Island kool-aid.

The only thing that had us hopping a plane away from this paradise was the upcoming event that I had been anticipating for 5 months…a visit from home.

 

A Quick Tour of Northern Greece

by Dave

September 3-6

 

What’s the best way to cure a Turkish hangover? How about plenty of fluids and a dose of Northern Greece? That helped stop the meat sweats anyway…

While the islands with the blue-domed white buildings and breathtaking sunsets were the initial impetus to securing Greece’s spot on the itinerary, our origin of departure and a desire to see a lesser-known gem steered us toward a start a bit further north. That, and we love us some UNESCO World Heritage sites, so Meteora was booked.

But before we made it to the amazing cliff-top monasteries, we spent a night in Thessaloniki. Aside from being one of the harder words for Noelle to say out of everywhere we’ve gone (which is saying something), (EDITOR’S NOTE: You say potato, I say potato, you say “loniki,” I say “noliki.” Samesies.) this waterside city in northeastern Greece served as our first taste of a few Greek staples. Starting with our introduction to Greece’s notoriously tardy public transportation, and onto our first Greek salad and frappes (the iced coffee drinks that Grecians are practically weaned on from birth) in their place of origin.

The transportation issue was expected (and, at times, laughable) based on the country’s famed insistence on doing things only when personally convenient, the salad did not disappoint, but the frappe left a little something to be desired. I’m not exaggerating about the weaning. Most Grecians suck about 4-5 of these bad boys down a day. While our first sips didn’t meet expectations, there were better ones to be had later on.

And (EDITOR’S NOTE: …more importantly, and most definitely infinitely more devastating to Dave…) I still had to wait it out to finally tear into some gyros. The lack of them in this part of our trip was fully made up for when we headed south, but I digress…

During our one night in town, we took a stroll along the Mediterranean to the White Tower (where we realized our frappe failure), and then weaved around downtown before picking a random spot for dinner to enjoy our incredibly fresh and elaborate Greek salad (EDITOR’S NOTE: Seriously America, you’ve been holding out. I expect full halves of tomatoes, plump olives and a full brick of feta upon our arrival home.). Even with an early morning departure the next day, we had no regrets heading a bit south as we felt we got a good flavor of this small city. And really, we had to move on from Thellasonick Thelsaloniki Thelessanoliki Thessaloniki for the sake of Noelle’s verbal confidence. So the next morning we boarded a train to Kalambaka, the closest station to Meteora. This two-legged train journey is what caused us to hit a bit of an unexpected delay.

See, Greece having a different alphabet than English and all, we weren’t the best at deciphering signs or making out most words spoken in our direction. So you’ll have to excuse us for jumping up to change trains when we watched nearly every single fellow passenger get off and heard the one word I forced myself to remember as our transfer station (or course I’ve forgotten it now, but it started with a “P”) followed by the only other recognizable word, “Kalambaka,” our final destination on the connecting train we were meant to board. Two words, same sentence. Seems like a no-brainer that it was our transfer stop, right?

Wrong.

The news was broken to us by a friendly ticket agent that we were in the small town of Larissa, still a few hours short of our elusive final destination with no viable transportation option other than the next train, scheduled for 6 hours later. She was nice enough to not charge us extra for a ticket on that train and she even offered to store our bags for us to let us explore the town during our layover. We told her we wouldn’t take “no” for an answer smiled with sheepish appreciation, handed our bags over and set off to explore.

In the end, the unexpected side trip was a pleasant surprise. We found ourselves in a great little café with wifi where we made the most of our unexpected stop by catching up on writing some blog posts and booking additional travel for the upcoming weeks.

Arriving a mere 6+ hours after our expected arrival, quick glimpses of some of the enormous rock cliffs through the windows of our train and taxi rides were our only hint of what was to come the following day.

Meteora, Greek for “into the air,” is home to six monasteries that were built right atop the cliffs that they still stand on today. Centuries ago monks built the monasteries to escape the violence of the Byzantine Empire. The six still standing make up only one quarter of the 24 that were here hundreds of years ago, and are easily explored in just a one-day stopover. (EDITOR’S NOTE: The monks that slaved centuries building these remote, meditative oases just rolled over in their graves and disdainfully muttered something that sounds suspiciously like, “…schmourists.”)

We spent our day walking around and taking in the incredible views among the monasteries atop the rock cliffs overlooking the deep valleys. It was a quick visit, but well worth it for the views alone, as you can see from some of the pictures below.

The best part of the day was taking in the sunset from a panoramic viewpoint just above the Roussanou monastery looking out over the two towns below Meteora. It was a very peaceful spot to watch from, even with the unique company with whom we shared the stunning views. We had one guy trying to explain to a friend that he has two girlfriends – one in Greece, and one back in Minnesota. Real good guy. And then a Jerry Garcia lookalike joined the fun, saying that he traveled to Greece from the U.S. on “Pegasus, the horse with wings.”

But, all of that was pretty easy to ignore when we had these views in front of us.

You can absolutely enjoy all this town has to offer by squeezing it into a 1 day, 2 night stay. Or of course, you could probably do it in even less time, assuming you can find a way to hitch a ride with Meteora Jerry Garcia atop his friend Pegasus. Your call.

Next up: the islands.