A lake on top of the world!
This is the Turquoise Lake in Tibet that takes more than two hours to circumnavigate by road. This can be seen along the highway from Nepal to Lhasa. It freezes during winter.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Travel Photo of the Day: Turquoise Lake, Tibet
A lake on top of the world!
This is the Turquoise Lake in Tibet that takes more than two hours to circumnavigate by road. This can be seen along the highway from Nepal to Lhasa. It freezes during winter.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Travel Photo of the Day: Tibet Landscape
One of my favorite spots on planet Earth!
This is located along the highway from Nepal to Lhasa. The river in the valley leads to Turquiose Lake, a huge lake in the highest place on earth. Being in this spot makes me realize just how small and inconsequential I am, and all humans are, in the greater scheme of things.
Musings: Poem - The Invitation
Here's a very good poem that was shared by a colleague during one of our conferences and I love it so much I like to share it with you all. I don't know the source and the publisher. I hope the author will pardon me for quoting the whole poem here.
THE INVITATION
"It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness and
let ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon “YES!”
It doesn’t interest me to know who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments."
By:
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
a Native American Elder
THE INVITATION
"It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness and
let ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon “YES!”
It doesn’t interest me to know who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments."
By:
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
a Native American Elder
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
From Hanoi, Vietnam to Vientiane, Laos: Worst Border Crossing Ever!
It was the last leg of our four-country marathon holiday. Though the adrenaline was still pumping through our veins, we were looking forward to the rest that the long overland crossing between Vietnam and Laos will afford us. We’ve gone through Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. The last country on our list was Laos before going back to Bangkok through Chiang Mai.
The trip started out well. The bus picked us up from our hotel as agreed. When all the 14 passengers were on board, they gave us hot towels and bottled water. It looked like a proper tourist bus with extra unoccupied seats. In less than three hours, we started dozing off. We were awakened around midnight by the driver who told us to get off and wait for another bus coming from Hanoi which will bring us to the border. Grumbling and complaining that this was not what we paid for, we had no choice but to get off. Otherwise, the bus will take us back to Hanoi and you don’t want to be caught overstaying Vietnam.
We found ourselves somewhere in Dong Ha where we were supposed to cross to Vientiane, in a small roadside restaurant facing a small hill with no other house or any building in sight. There was only the highway to Hanoi in the north and to Ho Chi Minh in the south.
Refusing to be anxious and assured that the second bus will pick us up in an hour or so, we ordered dinner and sat around the tables chatting. But hours dragged on and no bus ever stopped to pick us up. We had no choice but to spend the night in the poorly-lit restaurant with unfriendly staff. When we started spreading out our mats and sleeping bag in the only space in front of the restaurant, conflict ensued. The restaurant owners/staff not want the stranded passengers to sleep in front of the restaurant. But there was no other place to camp, unless you want to camp out in the highway or in the dark bushes beside the restaurant.
To make matters worse, one of the passengers, a young girl of 17 from Sweden who was travelling with her friend, was bitten by a snake during the night. We had to beg for 45 minutes with the restaurant owner to bring her to the hospital before they finally conceded with a charge of 100USD. After two hours, she came back with a bandage and told us that the snake was poisonous and that she could have died from the bite if we waited longer.
The incident with the snake only heightened our anxiety and did not help in our relationship with the restaurant staff. They did not become friendlier, nor did they relax from harassing us to move out of the way. Well, to be honest, they became hostile several times during the night, and more so during the day when other people came in to eat. On our part, we were pretty sure they were conniving with the tour operators to get customers in their middle-of-nowhere restaurant. So we weren’t also very cooperative.
After lunch the following day, a bus finally stopped to pick us up. But there was a catch: it wasn’t the bus from Hanoi with more tourists going for the border crossing. It was a regular public bus that plies the route, but we didn’t care. We just wanted to leave the place and get on with our trip. The bus stopped several times along the road to take on more passengers or to let people off but we were just too happy to be moving. At one point when the bus was full, some passengers clambered on the roof of the bus through the windows, alarming many of the western passengers, but only amusing the Asians. And just like the stories about transportation in developing countries in Asia and Africa, the bus also took on livestock and furniture along with the people. This provided some entertainment for us until that last stop.
The bus stopped for the last time for a family who appeared to be moving their whole household and everything the house contained, from beds, tables, chairs to house plants and pets. Thirty minutes on the road with this house-full load, we heard a bang that sounded like a gunshot. Then the bus suddenly swerved from side to side before skidding to a halt. Obviously, the bang was the sound of tire bursting. The passengers screamed and shouted. Good thing we were between farms and not the cliffside. When the bus finally screeched to a halt, the drivers spent thirty minutes arguing what to do before they decided that we will proceed on a snail’s pace with the busted tire.
When we arrived in the nearest town at past six in the evening, the bus drivers let us off to wait for another bus but refused to give us back part of our money to finish our trip to Vientiane. By this time, you can only imagine the frustration and anger that we felt. It was then that we learned that we actually paid different rates, from 14 to 19 dollars per person.
We finally arrived in Vientiane at midnight. What was supposed to be a nine-hour (at the most) border crossing took 30 hours! It was the worst bus ride, the worst border crossing and the worst form of hospitality from any country I’ve ever experienced. So, to those who are planning to do the land border crossing from Vietnam to Laos, let me tell you it’s not worth the money that you’ll save or the time that you’d otherwise spend in more productive holiday activities.
The trip started out well. The bus picked us up from our hotel as agreed. When all the 14 passengers were on board, they gave us hot towels and bottled water. It looked like a proper tourist bus with extra unoccupied seats. In less than three hours, we started dozing off. We were awakened around midnight by the driver who told us to get off and wait for another bus coming from Hanoi which will bring us to the border. Grumbling and complaining that this was not what we paid for, we had no choice but to get off. Otherwise, the bus will take us back to Hanoi and you don’t want to be caught overstaying Vietnam.
We found ourselves somewhere in Dong Ha where we were supposed to cross to Vientiane, in a small roadside restaurant facing a small hill with no other house or any building in sight. There was only the highway to Hanoi in the north and to Ho Chi Minh in the south.
Refusing to be anxious and assured that the second bus will pick us up in an hour or so, we ordered dinner and sat around the tables chatting. But hours dragged on and no bus ever stopped to pick us up. We had no choice but to spend the night in the poorly-lit restaurant with unfriendly staff. When we started spreading out our mats and sleeping bag in the only space in front of the restaurant, conflict ensued. The restaurant owners/staff not want the stranded passengers to sleep in front of the restaurant. But there was no other place to camp, unless you want to camp out in the highway or in the dark bushes beside the restaurant.
To make matters worse, one of the passengers, a young girl of 17 from Sweden who was travelling with her friend, was bitten by a snake during the night. We had to beg for 45 minutes with the restaurant owner to bring her to the hospital before they finally conceded with a charge of 100USD. After two hours, she came back with a bandage and told us that the snake was poisonous and that she could have died from the bite if we waited longer.
The incident with the snake only heightened our anxiety and did not help in our relationship with the restaurant staff. They did not become friendlier, nor did they relax from harassing us to move out of the way. Well, to be honest, they became hostile several times during the night, and more so during the day when other people came in to eat. On our part, we were pretty sure they were conniving with the tour operators to get customers in their middle-of-nowhere restaurant. So we weren’t also very cooperative.
After lunch the following day, a bus finally stopped to pick us up. But there was a catch: it wasn’t the bus from Hanoi with more tourists going for the border crossing. It was a regular public bus that plies the route, but we didn’t care. We just wanted to leave the place and get on with our trip. The bus stopped several times along the road to take on more passengers or to let people off but we were just too happy to be moving. At one point when the bus was full, some passengers clambered on the roof of the bus through the windows, alarming many of the western passengers, but only amusing the Asians. And just like the stories about transportation in developing countries in Asia and Africa, the bus also took on livestock and furniture along with the people. This provided some entertainment for us until that last stop.
The bus stopped for the last time for a family who appeared to be moving their whole household and everything the house contained, from beds, tables, chairs to house plants and pets. Thirty minutes on the road with this house-full load, we heard a bang that sounded like a gunshot. Then the bus suddenly swerved from side to side before skidding to a halt. Obviously, the bang was the sound of tire bursting. The passengers screamed and shouted. Good thing we were between farms and not the cliffside. When the bus finally screeched to a halt, the drivers spent thirty minutes arguing what to do before they decided that we will proceed on a snail’s pace with the busted tire.
When we arrived in the nearest town at past six in the evening, the bus drivers let us off to wait for another bus but refused to give us back part of our money to finish our trip to Vientiane. By this time, you can only imagine the frustration and anger that we felt. It was then that we learned that we actually paid different rates, from 14 to 19 dollars per person.
We finally arrived in Vientiane at midnight. What was supposed to be a nine-hour (at the most) border crossing took 30 hours! It was the worst bus ride, the worst border crossing and the worst form of hospitality from any country I’ve ever experienced. So, to those who are planning to do the land border crossing from Vietnam to Laos, let me tell you it’s not worth the money that you’ll save or the time that you’d otherwise spend in more productive holiday activities.
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