bgjflyer

Every now and then in life you go out on a limb and take a chance.  You do something that all your instincts tell you no, but you do it anyway.  Today was one of those days.  I came to Petra with a driver but with no organized tour of Petra.  Just a hotel and a ticket.  Now if you aren’t familiar with Petra, it is a vast complex with miles and miles of paths, trails, cliffs and chasms.  There are inhospitable places, and one could easily get lost.  You could fall from a cliff, slip into one of the hundreds of holes or cisterns, you could wander off into the desert, never to be seen again.  Petra was a crossroads for a reason, its literally the only thing for many miles in any direction other than inhospitable desert and mountains.

As I came down this morning from my room for breakfast, I met a cab driver who was just hanging out in the lobby.  Obviously looking for a mark and today I was that guy.  He let me know he worked with local “Bedouin” guides, that were much more knowledgeable than any of those trained, professional and licensed guides you would get at the entry of the park.  You know, the ones with photo placards hanging around their necks, that have a fixed price and are regulated by the government.  He promised me in his barely passable English, “tour best ever”.  “You will no regret”.  “You call me – tell me amazing!!”  He then gave me a business card, it looked all official and such, of course it was in Arabic.  It could have said, “hello my name is Ahmed and I kidnap tourists” for all I knew.  But he seemed, somehow, honest.  He was also very insistent that I should come with him and that I would definitely not regret it. 

Jumping in a random car with anyone, anywhere is not a good idea, but in the middle east?  Probably not the smartest idea for a solo American tourist, but somehow, I just had a feeling I needed to go with this guy.  So, I took a deep breath, slid into the back of his “cab” and off we went.  At least we were going towards the entry center, and my fears started to fade.  Ok, we are turning here at the visitor center, where the crowds were starting to gather.  The park would open soon and if I’m here with a bunch of people, I’m certainly safe.  However, just as my fears started to subside, he accelerated and turned up a hill, in the opposite direction!  Oh hell, did I just get abducted, was all I was thinking.  He looked at me in the mirror and smiled and said, “you better than them, you go different way!”  Ok, well I guess he wouldn’t just tell me; I’m selling you to Isis, I mean Syria isn’t that far away, but he kept on smiling.  I asked sort of nervously, where do I meet my guide?  He just looked up again in the mirror, made eye contact with me and said, “Bedouin, lives there”.  Lives where?  Iraq? Syria? I was starting to get a bit nervous for real.  Just as I was starting to plan my extrication from this abduction, he turned down a dirt path and stopped, where a rather large man was waiting.  Was this the exchange?  Now they throw me in the back of the truck and head to Aleppo? I was definitely not feeling comfortable at this point.

As the car pulled to a stop and the dust swirled around us, the large man outside reached down and opened my door.  I guess it was time for me to get out.  As I put a foot out of the car, wondering if I was going to have to make a break for it, the Bedouin gentleman looked at me and smiled.  He held out his hand and said, in excellent English, hello my name is Qasim and I’m your guide for Petra.  I couldn’t tell you how relieved I was!  He actually was a guide, and I hadn’t just been abducted!  Then I thought, where the hell are we?  Petra’s entrance was several miles from where we now stood.  That was going to be a hell of a hike back and why are we meeting on some deserted road in the middle of nowhere?  The questions just kept coming to my mind, but I had made it this far, I just responded to my guide and said, “Hello Qasim, I’m James and I’m very much looking forward to seeing the Bedouin view of Petra.” 

We then walked over a hill and there was a guard post.  Some sort of back entrance used for workers’, I guess.  We walked up to the guard and Qasim started speaking with him as if he was his long-lost brother.  He pointed at me and said a few things in Arabic.  At this point I was fairly certain I was no longer being abducted and managed to smile back.  The guard waved and opened the gate.  We were in!

As we walked through the gate, Qasim let me know that as Bedouin they still live inside the park and were only moved out less than 20 years ago, however since it was their ancestral home, they still get full access and can basically do whatever they want.  So off we went, to do whatever we wanted!

Our first stop on the tour was to visit his cousin’s house.  We walked up to a very large cave and walked in.  It was just a big hole, exactly like how you would think a cave would be.  He then proceeded to inform me of the entire history of his people and how they lived in the caves and raised their goats and hunted the local animals and lived the Bedouin lifestyle.  The lifestyle had continued for hundreds of years in this spot.  To them, Petra, was just home. It was where they hung their hat.  Where they walked with their dogs and road their donkeys and camels.  When they wanted, they packed up and trekked off into the desert somewhere and lived in their tents.  He told me “When we are bored or feel down we just pack up and go.  We travel somewhere and when we get there we feel better!”  I asked him, where do you go?  He replied “wherever, as long as its not here”.  Who knew, I was Bedouin?  I knew this was going to be a special day and it was.  One of the best days I have ever had travelling.

We spent an hour just trekking through the mountain.  Occasionally he would show me a grave site or a cave one of his family inhabited in the past.  It was a beautiful hike.  There was not a soul around us as far as I could see.  I was thoroughly enjoying it.  The morning breeze was starting to blow and the cool, desert air was extremely refreshing.  I was breathing it all in when we summited a hill and there it was in front of me.  All of Petra and not a single tourist walking around.  We had entered it from the back somehow.  Our first stop was at the byzantine church.  A gorgeous, 1500 year old church.  As we walked in, there were several other Bedouin perched up on a wall, well behind the ropes.  He walked up to the ropes lifted it up and said, lets go have some tea.  Now I love to break rules, but I also don’t want to get tossed out of Petra, I just got here.  I looked at him and he knew what I was thinking, he just smiled, gestured and said “I’m Bedouin, I live here, this is all for you today because you are with me”.  So up we went, climbing the 1500 year old walls, to enjoy Bedouin tea in the early morning light.  That tea was the best tea I have ever had.  Warm, tasty and imbibed in a place that was forbidden!

We enjoyed the tea and had a lengthy conversation with the other Bedouins.  Apparently upon finding out I’m from Texas they felt as if we were the same.  They love to compare themselves to cowboys.  Since I also raise animals, they were enjoying having tea with a real Texas cowboy as much as I was with Arab Bedouins.  I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I don’t travel in a tent with my animals, but I figured they probably knew that already!  But it was nice to be one of them for a minute anyway.

After tea, we began exploring more and more of Petra.  He knew every small trail or path, that didn’t even look like a path.  We would crawl over rocks and end up on top of a precipice with some of the most outstanding views I have ever seen.  Each time he would smile and say, “sometimes I sleep here” or “I come here at night to see the stars.”  He clearly was a Bedouin, he had a wanderers’ spirit, no doubt.  We would cross other paths and climb most of the monuments throughout the rest of the morning.  As the sun began to rise higher in the sky and the heat began to hit us, he decided it was time to visit his brother-in-law.  He was a security guard on one of the monuments.  We went up and he let me into his roped off area, and we had tea again.  Qasim said he loved to go there when the sun got hot because no one could come and the shade would be all ours and the breezes would cool us down.    I got to just dangle my legs over the side of a 2000 year old building.  Looking down at the now arriving camel caravans of tourists, hundreds of feet below.  I couldn’t help but enjoy myself and think of the millennia the building had witnessed and the countless people who have sat where I was and enjoyed a tea with a view.  It was very calming and very, very enjoyable, it was Petra.

It was a day I didn’t want to end, but alas we had to go down to the crowd for one last adventure.  We walked backwards against the crowd as Qasim kept me enthralled with tidbits of living in Petra and the Bedouin culture, just then, I looked up and there it was.  The treasury.  The most famous of all of Petra.  One of the 7 wonders of the world.  It was most beautiful; it was the fitting culmination of an amazing morning and one of the greatest tours I have ever had. 

Accepting the sad reality that my amazing tour had come to an end I began to walk back up the entry way to the visitor center.  As I began walking through the huge crowds now emerging from the park entry area Qasim reached out his hand and said, I end my tour here.  A little confused I asked him, aren’t you coming the rest of the way out?  Then I realized before he even answered, I had forgotten he wasn’t licensed tour guide, he lived there, he was Bedouin.  I gave him a very heart felt thank you, we shook hands, and I exchanged his hand shake with the largest tip I have ever given a guide.  He smiled and said come back anytime, my home is always open to you, he gestured grandly and then vanished into the background like a true Bedouin……

My tour of India is drawing to a close.  I know I didn’t give you description in great detail of all the intricate things I saw and the sites I visited.  I’m not a travel writer, per se, more of a chronicler of my adventures. If you want to know what the Taj Mahal was built out of, you can google it!  If you want to know my thoughts on the presence of feral cows on the highway or the ability of Uber drivers to deliver me safely to the airport, this is your spot.

Speaking of Uber drivers.  I took an Uber from my hotel in Delhi, back to the Indira Gandhi airport.  Now that I’m an adult, I try to stay at slightly nicer hotels and resorts.  The ITC in Delhi would classify as such.  It is that 5 stars, behind the walls, type of hotel.  So, as I stood there with my 2 baggage sherpas’, waiting for my Uber, I felt a bit spoiled.  I mean after all, my backpack weighs about 4 lbs and my roller bag/carryon about 10.  Yet here I am waiting with 2 guys holding my bags and one guy waiting to open the car door when my limousine pulls up!

As my limo pulls up, I mean Uber, it is nearly comical.  Up rolls this late 90’s Suzuki that has fought many a battle on the Delhi roads.  Sadly, I think he lost most of those battles because the dents and battle scars were everywhere.  The squeaking of the belts and the brakes were nearly as loud as all the horns in Delhi combined.  As he pulled past the Bentley and Mercedes Benz hotel cars all I could hear was the, squeak, squeak, squeak of his suspension along with the corresponding, ear piercing screech of the brakes bringing his demolition derby car to a halt. Everyone standing on the platform instantly looked over to me and my ride. Their judging gaze was fixed directly at me! How could I invite this specimen behind the walls? It appeared I had violated some sort of unwritten rule or something? Even my Sherpas gave me a slight frown.

Regardless of whatever caste rules the “behind the walls” crowd were exhibiting, I’m still cheap in certain areas and religiously loyal to Uber. However, upon seeing this car, and I’m not even sure it qualified as a car anymore, I had second thoughts!  Uhm, perhaps I should order another or take the beautiful hotel car?  But I was unfazed and determined. I ordered an Uber and I’m going to take it! So I looked again at my reservation and sure enough, this guy had like 4.9 stars and thousands of rides, he must be decent.  Well, I’m nothing if not adventurous, so I figured I’d go for it. I had come this far on the embarrassment scale anyways! So I proceeded to my “limo” and my 3rd Sherpa opened the door for me and I slid into the slightly torn back seat.  The baggage Sherpas hurriedly tried to load the bags into the boot (that’s the cars trunk for you non British types) but the driver yelled something at them in Hindi.  Apparently, that huge dent in the rear of the car has permanently locked the boot!  Next thing I know, my bags are being tossed into the seat next to me, the doors are slammed shut, exhibiting a desperate need of WD40 and off we go!

Now having become somewhat of an expert on Delhi traffic, the first thing I knew was I definitely needed to put on the seat belt.  As I reached over my shoulder, I found nothing.  Now where would the seat belt be?  As I frantically felt around my seat, looking for that very needed life saving device, I made eye contact with the driver.  First off, why are you looking at me?  Don’t you see the cow running in front of us?  I guess he wondered what I was doing distracting him from his duties, so I asked him, “where is the seatbelt”?  Still keeping my eye contact, and totally ignoring the road and the galloping water buffalo, he replied in his best broken English, “no problem, back seat don’t need!”

All I could think was “back seat don’t need?”  Don’t you know there are elephants out there trying to kill me?  Cows that could ram this little car any second! Not to mention the 50,000 cars and motorcycles we were surely to encounter in our 30 min ride to the airport.  But there I was, merging into traffic, no seat belt, a 20-year-old Suzuki that had 4 bald tires, no shocks, barely ran and a driver so confident in his abilities that I didn’t need a seat belt!  Mr. Driver I believe you may be over confident in your abilities because your car begs to differ!  It has more dents than a golf ball!

So as we navigated the cars, motorcycles, cows, pigs, chickens, pedestrians, and tuk tuk’s I was reduced to prayer and hope. Prayer that my driver would turn around and actually look out the front window and hope that his over confidence would trump my complete fear and lack of confidence due to his cars beat up appearance! Well whatever it was, perhaps he was praying as well because, lord Ganesh or shiva or whatever multi armed deity he had so centrally perched on his dashboard was looking out for us and we made it to the airport.  Believe it or not, the ride was the least eventful ride I had the entire time I was in India.  Yes Mr. Uber driver, you earned yourself a big tip and 5 stars!  You may roll off in your beaten chariot to do battle on the streets of Delhi again!  Me, I’m on my way to Jordan.

India, behind walls, is a different world.  It can be a stunningly beautiful and luxurious world.  The type of world that only a 3^rd world country can truly realize.  When your employees cost dollars a day, just about anything is possible.  You would expect to be waited on hand and foot and you would be correct.  There is the guy to hold your bag, the guy to walk you to your room.  The 3 guys at the front desk standing there waiting to check you in.  There are 10 guys working on the lawns, keeping them immaculate.  There is the little old lady with her straw broom, removing the last remnants of a windstorm from earlier in the day.  India behind the walls, is just as much a hive of activity as India beyond the walls, it’s just more orderly.

When you consider this level of service and combine it with the incredible beauty and history of India, you get a remarkable experience.  You blend, thousands of years of history and Islam, Hindu, Jainism, B’hai, Christianity, then add in a hundred years of British rule, shake it up and what rolls out is India. 

All the major tourist attractions are behind these walls and reflect almost all of that mashed together history.  Most of these monuments are guarded by more soldiers than you can count, yet they seem very accessible.  There are even more locals enjoying the monuments than you would expect.  I guess they are also taking their turns enjoying the unique history that is India.

The entire point of my trip was to finally get behind those walls and see the Taj Mahal.  It is a mix of Islamic and hindu architecture and design.  It is mathematically exact and architecturally aesthetic.  The Raja wanted everything to line up, everything to have meaning, everything to be exact.   He wanted to honor his late wife, with the most beautiful and architecturally amazing building ever built.  He succeeded far beyond what even he could have hoped for.  He spent the equivalent of billions of dollars, in today’s money, and employed 20,000 workers for 22 years to construct this homage to his late wife.  After the completion, he had spent so much money, that his son had him arrested and imprisoned him in the castle, where he would sit for hours looking out the window at his beautiful creation.  Even after he went nearly blind in old age, he had a mirror brought in, so that he could gaze at the buildings reflection and remember his wife.

Most people don’t realize, the Raja had many, many wives.  He built the Taj only for 1.  The others are buried, rather non-descript on the grounds of the Taj, in the surrounding wall.  I guess the other wives didn’t meet his standards.  Having been married in the past, I think that every man should build something like this for the woman they love.  Every woman that is kind, gentle and loving deserves this sort of honor.  Every wife that loves her husband, obeys him, doesn’t give him any headaches, doesn’t question his decisions, follows him to the ends of the earth without complaint, deserves this level of commitment.  Every wife that happily lives her entire life in devotion to her husband deserves a Taj Mahal.   I guess the Raja’s other wives didn’t meet his standards and perhaps because of those standards, no other Taj Mahal was ever built, anywhere else on earth!

When your airplane arrives in India, its unmistakable that you are in the right place.  When the door to the jetway opens, you can literally feel and smell India. They hit you like a one-two combo from a heavy weight champion.  First the jab hits you, the hot damp air rushes in and envelopes you.  Sweat begins to pour down your back and arms and your lungs fill with that heaviness.  Then, just as your body starts to adjust, the upper cut lands you square in the jaw.  Boom! The scents and odors of India begin to permeate everywhere.  Its hard to describe but its some sort of combination of tropical breezes, sweat, curry, exhaust fumes and hot spices.   The upper cut lands a little harder than the jab and it takes a second to get your legs back.  But just like the heavy weight travel contender that you hope to be, you take that combo, breath it all in deeply, shed a layer of clothing and remember, this adventure is definitely worth it.

Now that you have adjusted, you begin to move around India.  Exiting the airport, you will immediately hear the first language of India.  It isn’t Hindi or English, it’s the car horn.  The car horn is the universal language of travel in the cities.  I wouldn’t even dare leave my house if my horn wasn’t working.  There is no driving with one hand on the wheel and one out the window in India.  Indian driving, as far as I can tell, requires two hands on the horn, one hand on the wheel, one hand to gesture at the 12 cars within 6 inches of you and one hand to shift.  You need no less than 5 arms to drive here.  Perhaps that is why Indian gods have so many arms, they recognized the need generations ago.

Now as we are navigating the immensely overcrowded, unregulated streets, the fascinating part of Indian traffic makes itself apparent.  Feral Cows!  Yes, you read that correctly, I’m not talking cats, I’m talking cattle.  2,000 lb Brahma bulls, that are only topped by 2500 lb water buffalo.  They are just chillin’, walking around in the middle of the city.  They are not someone’s pets or escaped cattle, they are street animals and there are millions of them!  They are everywhere.  In front of google headquarters Delhi, check.  On the main highway into town, check, in the median of the road in the governmental district, check. Down the side alleys in the residential area, check.  There are more feral cows here than being ranched in all of Texas!

Imagine hitting a water buffalo at 50mph?  Well, you don’t have to worry about that, traffic here never goes that fast.  If you are doing 10mph you are flying.  But just as you are getting used to the cows hanging out, looking in your window as you pass on by, the next oddity of Indian traffic hits you.  Sitting at the stop light, the guy pulls up next to me, on an elephant!  He is sitting at the red light with his elephant in idle.  How does the elephant driver honk his horn? Does he trumpet on demand or does he just reach down with his trunk and move that annoying motorcycle guy out of the way? I couldn’t even fathom getting into an accident with that?  He could turn the term “hit and run” up on its head.  How do you deal with an elephant in traffic?  His “exhaust” is a bit more toxic than the average car’s. Does his driver (can you call him a driver?) have car, er I mean elephant insurance?  His elephant weighs more than a massive truck, he certainly can do a lot of damage, yet I think he is probably an uninsured driver.  I’m not even going to get into the ideas of the road rage incident he could cause. Finally, the light turns green and off he goes, thankfully in a different direction than us.

Then the final problem of Indian traffic presents itself.  Roads.  Flooded, potholed, crowded, almost unpassable roads.  Part of the journey I wasn’t even sure what we were on was technically a road. Could have been a path or a trail, but not a road.  Again, traveling at 2-5mph is about the most you can hope for.  My driver told me it was a new road, less than 4 years old, yet all I could see was mud and holes.  Then as we turned down a side alley towards our hotel, we suddenly were on a cobblestone road.  Like any old road you might see in Europe.  The driver informs me, this road is over 500 years old!  How can it be that a 500-year-old road is in perfect driving condition for a modern automobile and a 4-year-old, modern engineered road is totally washed out and unpassable?  I think that is one of the many contradictions of modern India.  Of which I’m sure we are about to experience firsthand.

Finally we pulled into our hotel. Where we were greeted with a bomb sniffing dog and a guy with a huge mirror to look under the car. After a thorough inspection of my Uber car, they cheerfully opened the gate and off we went, into the world of wealthy India. The India behind the gates and walls is a completely different place from the chaotic city and street life we just journeyed through and yes it is most beautiful. That life will be in the next story…

I’m not exactly sure if it truly is day 4,286, but it sure as hell feels like it.  What is going on in the outside world?  From what I gather, not much.  If you only watched the news, you would be pretty sure we are days away from realizing the zombie apocalypse as so fictionalized in Hollywood and in every millennial’s mind.  I’m fairly sure i’m not going to have to fend off any zombies looking to eat my brains, but I am absolutely certain that I need to fend off the vampire that is boredom.  It will suck the will to live right out of you, if you aren’t careful!

To fend off this vampire the usual tactics of garlic or a wooden cross just aren’t going to cut it.  This evil cannot be defeated easily.  It lurks in every shadow.  It awakens every morning and does not want to go to sleep at night.  It is trapped inside this house with me and gleefully it watches me and waits to bite.  No work to do today, it lurks closer.  No good movies on….even closer.  No new sports to watch, boom, you have the fangs of boredom sunk into your neck.  The next thing you know, you have been staring at a wall for 2 hours, drained of all of your happiness and desire to do a damn thing about it.

So how shall I combat this evil?  I have tried the endless, mindless task of seeing every, single meme on the internet.  However, one can only see a fat cat jumping to a counter, or kermit drinking tea only so much.  Besides, it is obvious the vampire of boredom has attacked the meme makers as well.  They are almost completely obsessed with Corona memes.  Come on, can we see a meme of something else?  Anything else?  Well anything other than that bitch Carol Baskin?  Everyone knows she killed her husband and fed him to the tigers.

Speaking of the Tiger King.  One watches that show and hopefully the lesson learned isn’t just that there are crazy, strange people in america.  The lesson taken away from Tiger King is that life is not fair.  It’s never fair.  A crazy woman possibly kills her husband, pretends to be an animal rights activist and suckers hundreds into volunteering for her park and she makes millions.  Joe tries to run a park, give a show and be himself?  He is destroyed and thrown in prison.  I’m not defending his actions, just saying he was at least being a true representative of himself and he paid dearly for it.

The world does not want to see the truth.  The world WANTS to be lied to.  They want someone to tell them what they want to hear.  They don’t want to see the wizard behind the curtain.  They want to see the mirage…the matrix.

The Matrix….  now that movie has been on pretty much 75 times since lock down began.  In fact I think the quarantine is celebrating the entire Keanu filmography.  I have seen him stop a speeding bus, travel through time in a phone booth, learn to surf, rob banks and kill 3 people with a pencil….a fucking pencil!  The lesson there is, if you get offered a job to go kill someone that has literally killed a thousand people, perhaps your answer should be, no, i’m good.  I have no issues with Baba Yaga.  By the way, a lesson learned over and over again, is never, ever mess with a mans dog.

Now that we have watched the entire Netflix data base and still have no live sports, I wonder what do you sports betting junkies do these days?  I mean are we dropping odds on the over under of the junk mail the mailman brings today?  +- (3) pieces??  I realized I spent half an hour watching a squirrel try to find a nut.  I had him at -200.  Here is a good one, even money bets on drive through window attendants.  What color gloves will they be wearing?  Clear?  White?  Black?  Blue?

The lack of sports is trying on me.  I’m not even that big of a sports junkie and I have realized how much value they have in entertaining a society.  Not just the actual games, but the messes that are the actual athletes.  Right now there is just no fun gossip, no De’andre Jordan being locked in his house by his teamates.  No emoji wars.  No trash talking. No rumors that so and so is wanting to leave his team or join team x.  What the hell else am i going to read every day?  The real news?  Its worse than watching the Kardashians and believe me that is like rolling around in thumb tacs and then sitting in a bathtub of Tabasco sauce!

I guess I could read a book.  Do people still do that? nahh..  there HAS to be something else to watch on Amazon, Netflix, Hulu, Disney + and the 500 miscellaneous shitty channels I pay for from DirectTv.  Oh wait here is something.  A documentary about vampire bats in South America.  Interesting.  I wonder if those bats turn into vampires?  I wonder if my vampire of boredom also turns into a bat?  Maybe I can catch it and cook that sucker!  I am getting low on food supplies anyways and don’t really want to go back to the viral heaven that is Walmart.  I think its a good idea, I mean what could possibly go wrong if I eat a bat????

Where does life take us? Does it take us wherever it wants to or do we drive the bus? I’m fairly sure there are probably a million interpretations of who really is in control. Is it God? Fate? Buddha? Crazy Indian snake/elephant god?

I think life is just a long series of choices, opportunities and challenges intertwined with free will. Whoever is driving the bus allows us our own will to turn down whichever road we fancy. However, therein lies the problem. So many of us are distracted drivers. Talking on our cell phones and missing our turns. Drinking and taking the wheel and driving the car right off the road. We are all, pretty much, terrible drivers!

The solutions are multiple. The brilliant adage of “let God take the wheel” is always a go to. There is the aggressive attitude of I’m gonna cut everyone off and make sure I make all my turns and there is the scared person with their blinker on for 100 miles trying to get into the exit lane. Oh don’t forget the crazed uber driver that just runs all the lights and makes everyone else’s life around them miserable. They don’t care. Red lights be damned!

I’m not sure which one is correct or if all of them are or none of them. Sometimes I think I’m the best formula F1 driver on the track and sometimes I think I’m the grandma that has her blinker on for the last 10 miles that just caused a 2 mile pile up.

Life is difficult. That road is bumpy. There are literally thousands of exits. Many lead to no where but a dead end. How do I know which one to take? Which way to turn? Fact is we don’t know. Some people get lucky and take the right exits. Some end up in the dead ends. Then some of us end up on the south side of Chicago with our car on blocks because someone jacked our rims.

Where is the store for new rims?? How do we get the tires back on and get back on that road to the next exit? Turn around from those dead ends? I don’t have any answers. But one thing I do know is that the road keeps going. We need to identify who the wreckers are along the road that are willing to tow us into the shop to get the new rims and who the car jackers are. There certainly are a lot more jackers than wreckers.

Perhaps it’s better to drive in a caravan. Worked against u boats. But does it work in nature? The lion always gets the weak wildebeest. We have all seen animal planet. Some unsuspecting animal turns left instead of following the heard straight and bam next thing you know you are lunch for a pride of lions. One simple wrong exit and it’s over!

I guess the purpose of this is to convey that it really isn’t in our hands. You might be the unlucky animal or the F1 driver but regardless of what you may think or believe you are only one tiny turn from being the other. Proceed with caution and find a good caravan!

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As an American you get so used to everyone insulating you from your own stupidity. We have all seen the warning signs, the commercials prefaced by the ubiquitous “don’t try this at home” (like I’m gonna BASE jump off my roof with an umbrella) the endless liability waiver forms etc. Everyone trying to point out that the actions you are about to take are not always safe and you may be injured.

In Asia it is the exact opposite. They go out of their way to downplay any possibility at all that anything you are about to attempt has any level of danger whatsoever. Want to ride a scooter through heavy Asian traffic with no helmets. Check. How about petting a live tiger? With no leash. Check. Climb a waterfall? Check. I swear I heard a kid ask his mom if they could go on a cobra wrangling. Sure why not. What could possibly go wrong with that? It’s like hey we are on vacation and nothing goes wrong when you are on vacation!

All of this makes me wonder how many tourists these places “lose” each year. Now I know this area of SE Asia lost hundreds of thousands killed during the Boxing Day Tsunami back in 2004, including tens of thousands of tourists but we will give them a pass for that one. Sometimes God is just pissed. Though I can say I haven’t seen any “anti-tsunami” improvements. I’m not talking about your biblical disaster type losses. I mean your daily ,oops, I guess I should have worn a helmet. Or damn I forgot to hook his belt to the bungy cord before he jumped type loses.

That number has to be large. I mean riding a pissed off elephant at some point is not going to end well. Oh hey want to come play with the crocodile? Sure why not. I’ve been drinking all day. Sounds fun.

As I attempt many of these activities, like zip lining the tree tops, for research purposes of course, my mind can’t help but wonder if they have ever had to remove this harness from a dead body. I mean you can’t lose good equipment and keep your business running! As I climb the mountain to get to the zip line platform the complete lack of any hand rail or guide rope strikes me as a bit odd. But I push on. Can’t go back down. Too damn steep!

So I keep climbing. Finally coming to a small clearing with a wooden platform and a series of cables that do not look like the most sturdy, well maintained stainless steel variety. They look more like something that has been hooked to that tree and mountain by the current purveyors grandparents. Through all the storms and winds and rust. But again I’m committed. Besides I’m on vacation so I’m good.

As they click me on and hook me up it all seems rather quick. I mean .5 seconds quick and next thing I feel is a hand in my back and off I go! No decision making here. You can’t even remotely chicken out. As you are being pushed off the ledge regardless! My speed accelerates as I slide down hill. All the while hearing the cables tension stress and hoping that I don’t plunge 100′ to my death in the raging river below! As the platform approaches at a breakneck speed I feel hope. I’m gonna make it! Wait. How the hell am I gonna stop?! As I fling into this makeshift backstop at what felt like 100mph. The adrenaline hits! I have survived!

Now where the hell is that cobra? We got some wrangling to do, what on earth could possibly go wrong?!

Traveling by oneself is often one of the most enjoyable and rewarding experiences. You learn a lot about yourself. You learn that it doesn’t take much to entertain yourself. You learn that you can be very self reliant and you learn that you can have fun by yourself.

On the fun note, it’s always enjoyable to have a beer. Finding a beer in a vastly Muslim country can be an adventure much like finding anything made of pork. Can a man find a piece of bacon to save his life? Not in Malaysia my friend. But Beer, that I can find.

Google is the modern travelers best friend. In the past we had to talk to actual humans and ask advice and get directions. Perish the thought! Now I can consult trip advisor or yelp in literally every country on earth. No human contact necessary! No more of those awkward Half English, half body language conversations where I mime drinking a beer and getting drunk trying to convince the hotel doorman that I need to find a bar. Nope. Not any more. No more misunderstandings.

Now every bar in a hundred miles pulls up instantly. Along with the disconcerting message that drinking alcohol is actually illegal in Malaysia. Wait. What?? I can be cained for drinking a beer? Hold on let me read the fine print. I can be beaten and imprisoned for drinking alcohol if I’m a Muslim. Wait how do they know? Do they have like an ID card I don’t know about? Or like a secret handshake?

What if I’m mistaken for a Muslim? I mean I haven’t really shaven in over a week. I am naturally a dark person. Perhaps I will just need to carry the Bible out of the hotel room with me, just to be safe. Oh yeah. This is Malaysia. We have Qurans in the bed side table! Shit!

Perhaps I should just google a few bible verses and write them down just in case I get questioned? But seeing as I already get a daily verse in my iPhone every A.M. I figure I’m armed with enough evidence to support my ordering a beer legally. But I went back and memorized a few just to make sure I was armed and ready! “Though shall not bust my ass for drinking of the ale!” James 1:1!!

Why is it that no matter what country you are in, if you are walking to a cool bar you MUST venture through some old, run down streets and areas you would normally avoid? Well Kuala Lumpur was no exception. As I ventured to the expat bar area I strolled right past a mosque letting out. Hundreds of young men standing in the street. They were nice enough but I’m sure had they known of my evil intentions to imbibe they may not have approved of my passage by. Alas they were more concerned with discussing the evils of bacon than of my walking past and I was able to continue on in my quest.

As I approached the bar area of Kuala Lumpur i realized something that is very common in south east Asia. An expat man walking alone is like a $100usd bill lying on the pavement. Because everyone jumps on it. “Come in”. “Mr mr! You come have Beer here!” “We have best beer” “pretty girls at bar”. “2 for 1 Beer here”. Pretty much anything you can imagine they are offering. Well after getting attacked all the way down the avenue you eventually succumb and sit down and order a beer. That’s when the real show begins.

Can’t a man just drink a beer without a hooker? Apparently not in south east Asia! Now I have some friends that would enjoy that type of attention. Not mentioning names here satchel. But I don’t need a lady of the evening. No offense it isn’t the oldest profession for nothing, but it’s not my thing. But seriously. Every single place I went to, within a few minutes it was hooker town rolling past.

They all want to come say hello. “Buy me a drink?” Uhm no. I’d prefer to not catch any diseases or lose my moral code. “I make you happy. Where you stay??” Uhm I stay in my seat and you stay away! They are relentless! I mean seriously. How am I going to take you back to my hotel? I could barely get past the mosque alone. W a hooker? My hypocracy does know it’s limits!

Well after fending off the attack waves I was eventually left alone to enjoy my beverage above. I enjoyed my illegal/not illegal Beer fully and I look forward to Thailand next. Where I think not only is it not illegal to drink or be a hooker but I think it may be mandatory.

Being sick is never fun. Being sick in a foreign country is challenging. Being sick and alone in a foreign country has to top all of that. Throw in the fact that it is Christmas and you have the perfect storm.

As I was lying in my hotel bed, channel surfing, trying not to die, my good friend Jason reached out to check on me. As we were chatting, he said I needed to write another entry, but then stated “good luck writing anything funny when you are sick.” Well my friend challenge accepted.

Something I learned whilst being ill in Singapore. Never underestimate the value of television! It is the great equalizer. It can entertain you, inform you, pass time and give you great knowledge and enlightenment. Singaporean television certainly hits all those markers. It is a combination of Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Russian, Indian, British and American television. On one channel I can watch a great Bollywood movie and on the very next I can see how trump is destroying the universe. I learned that the new US tax plan is horrible for the American economy but also an unfair advantage to US companies. Huh? So it’s bad for us but really good for us to the point it’s unfair? Does BBC not have an editor that watches this dribble? Try some cohesiveness in message perhaps? It’s good. It’s bad. I have no idea but pick one and go with it!

So I’m back to the Bollywood channel. Have you ever watched a 6 hr movie where all they do is sing and dance in the forest? Apparently that is what every single movie produced in mumbai does. I even saw an Indian gentleman catch a bullet in his teeth whilst signing and dancing in the forest. How can a billion and a half people watch this with a straight face? I have seen Univision telenovellas with better story lines. Good thing there are some beautiful woman. I shall watch a little longer.

As I tire of the women not teaching me the Kama sutra or anything useful I continue on in my channel surfing. Russian news network. Interesting. Perhaps I will learn of how Putin won the election for trump? Maybe there will be insight in how Hillary sold all of our uranium to Russia? Nope. I only hear of the greatness of Putin. The man plays concert piano. Is that Chopin? He rides horses bareback. He is like an 11th level black belt. I’m starting to love this guy. Maybe it’s the fever talking but how can you not like a guy that does all that, dates super models and runs the world? He is like the person Kim Jong Un portends to be. Maybe putin did play a round of golf once and shoot an 18? He could be the one, true dear leader??

My new found love for a ruthless dictator aside, I figured perhaps there was something better on down the line. Next stop. Japanese tv. Well I think it was Japanese. Who else has anime cartoons where half the people are some type of squid man/woman and everything seems to fade into and out of some fight between a super hero and a squid man. I waited to see if Godzilla would show up and stomp on Tokyo, thus confirming my theory that it was Japanese tv, but alas Godzilla must be hanging out with Putin because he never showed.

Wait how about that for a Russian tv show?Godzilla vs Putin? He could wrestle him shirtless, while riding bareback on a horse and just as Godzilla is about to stomp the kremlin he defeats him with his patented Putin karate chop! Thus preserving mother Russia. I can see it now. Played on every channel throughout Russia. Can I get a producer credit?

Japanese television was no longer holding my interest. What’s next. Chinese? Korean? Both channels have nothing but people talking to other people. No hot ladies. No dear leader. Just weird dialogue with a little snippet about ice fishing in northern Manchuria. Well I think that is what they were doing, either that or the Chinese love to stand around, frozen, staring down a hole in the snow. I never saw a fish but what the hell else could they be doing? It looked cold and as I was already shivering from fever chills. Nope.

Finally, we were down to American channels. English. History channel. Discovery channel. National Geographic. Now we are talking! I can surely find something to keep my mind off of being deathly ill, alone and experiencing Christmas from this hotel bed. Maybe a show about monkeys or animals of Asia or something educational. Not a chance. When did those channels become about building motorcycles and selling things at pawnshops? Whatever happened to watching the lion take down a giraffe? Now I have to watch a fat guy eat his burger while complaining about his family not giving him a chance in business? What the hell? Maybe we can take him and let him survive a week in the Serengeti?

Now that is a reality show that discovery should run. I can see it now. Having spent a week w no food and water chumly goes for a kill. He sneaks on his ever shrinking belly closer and closer. Only to be denied by a pride of lions! As they take down his kill. Chumly is upset and decides to tape his side interview so he can complain that the jungle is unfair and he “deserved” that kill. The lions, ever upset he is bagging on them decide He is an easy target and they go for his throat. The show is over. I would watch that! Again. Producer credit!

What else do we have in American television. Ahhh movie channels. Dear lord please don’t let it be Christmas movies! Oh no. It’s worse. It’s a Disney marathon! If I wanted to watch people sing and dance in the woods I already had the Bollywood channel! Damnit! Well I guess when you are a beggar you cannot be choosy. Cinderella it is.

As I’m watching the 200th retake on this Disney classic I come to a sobering conclusion. When I got married, I thought I was marrying Cinderella. The loving. Kind beautiful woman. But I didn’t. I married the evil stepsister with the diabolical mother! Omg. Where is the movie about the poor soul that gets the stepsister and not Cinderella? Oh yeah. That movie is called my life.

As I watched the prince decline the marriage w the princess, the one with the huge armies they needed so that he could marry for true love, all I could think of was “oh dude. Bad move!!”. As soon as she gets home she will roll her big ass army out on your kingdom. Murder your citizens and kill you and the princess as she dissolved your kingdom into hers. Alas, they don’t go that far. They end the movie. “They lived happily ever after”. My ass. For how long? We all know that crazy princess was not gonna be snubbed like that and go home to her daddy upset and he wasn’t gonna do something about it. “He turned me down Daddy”!! With the king responding. “Nobody turns down my baby! Hold my Beer and send out the armies!” Cinderella’s head would have been on a stake in the castle walls in a week! I think Disney should hire me to help them with their movies. They are just giving people a false sense of reality!

Next up. Snow White! Be careful mr prince. Just walking up to some girl and kissing her while she sleeps is a bit too Harvey weinstien for this day and age. She may slap a harassment suit on your ass. And wait. Why can’t she get with the midgets? Err dwarves. They aren’t good enough for her? That dwarf in game of thrones is always getting with hot women why can’t dopey or sneezy? I mean Doc has a good job he could be an option for her. By not entertaining the potential dwarf love is Disney being prejudiced? Perhaps they will be picketed by the little people that are now on the discovery channel telling me about their lives??

I am beginning to think that perhaps Disney has missed the boat on my writing genius and should call me. I could correct where they went wrong on all these movies. Maybe it’s the sickness talking but Cinderella ending w her head on a stick and Snow White suing the kingdom for sexual assault, Now we are talking about good movies! I even know a good lawyer that will take her case. But then again she is an evil step sister.

So Jason. As I am alternating between bone shattering chills and lost in the desert, so hot I cannot breath, fever. Was I able to make you laugh? Dilly Dilly!