“You cannot make a drawing without shadows.” Anonymous.

Our final morning in Tashkent, we transferred to the airport an early-morning flight to Urgench. Then we drove to Khiva along the Amu-Darya delta, which stretches from southeast of Urgench to the Aral Sea. This region, an important oasis called the Khorezm Delta, has been inhabited for millennia. Along the way, we stopped to walk through the rooms of an ancient palace with a stone courtyard surrounded by a harem’s quarter, visited a caravanseri (inn for traveling merchants), and photographed an old mosque with 200 uniquely carved wooden pillars.

Urgench, Uzbekistan

Carriage used to bring a new bride to the palace near Urgench, Uzbekistan

Khiva seafood

My fish takes one last breath.

We stopped for lunch at a roadside restaurant specializing in seafood. Skeptical, Gunter asked, “Seafood this far inland?”

“It’s from the lake close by,” Fak answered. We saw fish was swimming in a tank outside the restaurant. At least, they would be fresh. What I didn’t realize is that they were carp!   Growing up in Wisconsin, I was taught never to eat these bottom fish. I ate a few bites, didn’t like the texture, and hid the meat under the skin. And then we traveled on to Khiva.

Khiva was an 8th century minor fort and trading post on a side branch of the Silk Road. The town remained an insignificant player until the 16th century when it became the capital of the Uzbek Shaybanids. Khiva ran a busy slave market for more than three centuries. Slaves were bought by Turkmen tribesmen from the desert and Kazakh tribes of the steppes. By 1740, the town became an outpost of the Persian empire and by 1873, its khan became a vassal of the tsar of Russia. Finally, in 1920 the Bolsheviks installed the Khorezm People’s Republic, theoretically independent from the USSR.

What I wanted from Khiva was a spectacular photo of its west-facing facades bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. What I got was clouds, rain, wind for two days. And I was still trying to recover from a cold. Our hotel, the 78-room Orient Star, offered us the chance to stay inside a 19th century medressa, with its hujras (study cells) converted to rooms. We were told to bend low climbing the high steps curving toward our room the second floor, but with my short height, I’ve never had to bend over for ceilings. Bump! Fortunately, I have a hard head! Because Old Town is a UNESCO heritage site, certain restrictions applied, for example, only one electrical outlet to plug in all our electronics (we each had an iPod and cellphone). No matter, internet reception was only available—quite intermittently—in the walkways facing the courtyard. I didn’t feel too much like a hermit; the bathrooms are made of fancy stone, similar to the rustic farmhouse décor currently in style.

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Pomp and circumstance: a dual presidential visit. The next morning, after a simple breakfast of fresh yogurt, wonderful cheese, warm bread and fruit, we found the courtyard and all the streets filled with frenetic activity. The following day, the president of Uzbekistan would be visiting Old Town Khiva, along with his guest, the president of Turkmenistan! Gorgeous young women from both countries were flown in. The day before the event, we saw them practice standing in a receiving line the delegation would pass by. Bands were blaring; dancers and other performers were perfecting their arts; all the while, locals swept the streets clean and gardeners planted wheelbarrows full of colorful annuals—gold marigolds and red petunias—along the parade routes.

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That evening, we attended a magnificent dinner, complete with a musical performance and a puppet show. I feared it would rain on Khiva’s parade because it poured most of the night. But while the morning dawned cold and windy, the rain had ceased. We skirted puddles along mud walls dating from the 18th century, rebuilt after being destroyed by the Persians. We were relieved to get back inside the walls to the familiarity of “our street.”

The plazas and streets looked deserted. “Where are the other tourists? Gunter asked.

“Oh, most of them stayed inside because of the weather,” Fak explained. I wondered what I was doing there! Then he added, “When the event begins, they’ll have to stay inside their hotels, or another hotel or restaurant. Security.”

Shivering, we ducked inside a restaurant offering freshly pressed ginger tea. How wonderful! I asked for the recipe and it turned out the chef was from Germany! Gunter talked with him about his experience coming to Khiva to train the restaurant staff in “western” ways.

A Special Ginger Tea

A Special Ginger Tea

We took an afternoon nap before packing for our flight home. Our morning flight–which had unfortunately been scheduled the day the two presidents would arrive—had been cancelled. The airport would be closed all day. Security.

We were driven back to the airport for our re-scheduled 7:30 evening flight, which we were assured would take off to Bukhara. The airport was still closed. The visiting president was apparently still in town. Our driver could not enter the airport parking lot, and only those with tickets were allowed into the terminal. We passengers had to pull our luggage from the other side of the building, around to the entrance. And then we had to wait, and wait, until close to midnight, when the plane finally took off. Our guide, Fak, was flying with us, so we weren’t left alone.

“In the U.S., if a visiting president were in a town or not,” I told him while we waited, “the government would not close the airport.

“It happens all the time here. How would they provide security for your president if he came to your town?” he asked.

“In San Diego, he would probably land at our naval base,” I said.

“Keep in mind,” Fak explained, “we do not have private or government airfields outside of Tashkent, the capital.”

Always expect the unexpected. These are but the “shadows” of a country just opening to tourism.

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When we can view a photo and immediately recognize where it was taken, that’s the Power of Place. We know that this place is different from all the other places on this planet. It is uniqueiconic. Examples of such correlations are:

  • Taj Mahal=India
  • Eiffel Tower=France
  • Pyramids=Egypt
  • Parthenon=Greece
  • Golden Gate Bridge=California, USA

Did you notice that all these icons are man-made? “Oh, what a wonderful monument…statue…structure…bridge…memorial,” you say as you snap the obligatory photo to bring home.

Taj Mahal, Agra, India, taken during Lois’s India Tour, 2011 www.LoisJoyHofmann.com

Taj Mahal, Agra, India, taken during Lois’s India Tour, 2011

Author Lois Joy Hofmann at the Great Pyramid of Cheops, Egypt. From The Long Way Back

Author Lois Joy Hofmann at the Great Pyramid of Cheops, Egypt. From The Long Way Back by Lois Joy Hofmann

Sense of Place: Sensory Memories of Places Visited

Feeling usually involves connection. You get involved with that place. You bring yourself into the picture. You experience it. And when you bring that photo home and view it again, you’re transported back to that place, that frame of mind, that experience. Did you feel the spray from that waterfall as you stood on that bridge? Did you touch and smell those flowers as they rustled with the wind? Do you hear the chatter of those monkeys before they tried to steal your banana? Do you re-live the fear you felt when you saw that approaching storm?

waterfall in Fatu Hiva, Marquesas Islands, French Polynesia

We swam in back of this waterfall in Fatu Hiva, Marquesas Islands, French Polynesia. From Sailing the South Pacific

Elephant Kandy Sri Lanka

I’ll never forget this elephant in Kandy, Sri Lanka, who came right up to me on shore! From The Long Way Back by Lois Joy Hofmann

We endured 7 days of rain and squalls during our passage from the Similans to Sri Lanka From The Long Way Back.

We endured 7 days of rain and squalls during our passage from the Similans to Sri Lanka From The Long Way Back by Lois Joy Hofmann

Bring home the Passion of People instead of the Power of Things

Portraits of people inevitably bring back the connection you felt to that place. As I look through the photos of our eight years circumnavigating the world on a catamaran, and our travels around the world in recent years, it is those photos of people that create the memories all over again. I laugh, I cry, I remember, and sometimes, I even dream of going back to that special place in the world.

Petal Girl. Riung, Malaysia. From The Long Way Back by Lois Joy Hofmann

Petal Girl. Riung, Malaysia. From The Long Way Back by Lois Joy Hofmann

Mother, baby, and puppy. Mamitupu, San Blas Archipelago, Panama

Mother, baby, and puppy. Mamitupu, San Blas Archipelago, Panama from Maiden Voyage by Lois Joy Hofmann 

Lois and Gunter Hofmann: Still traveling the world, embarking on one adventure after another

Their next adventure, Uzbekistan, touring the Silk Road, is coming up soon. She’ll be writing travelogues about their new adventures. Visit Lois’s author page at Amazon.

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”   __T.S. Eliott

The word “circumnavigator” has many meanings. Wikipedia says, “Circumnavigation is navigation completely around an entire island, continent, or astronomical body (e.g., a planet or moon)…The first known circumnavigation of Earth was the Magellan-Elcano expedition, which sailed from Seville, Spain in 1519 and returned in 1522, after crossing the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans.”

Past and Present: World Explorers

 

Magellan Elcano Circumnavigation

Magellan Elcano Circumnavigation

Note that Magellan had to sail around the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Horn, the two most dangerous capes in the world, whereas Gunter and I could transit the Panama and Pacific Canals. (See our route below):

Pacific Bliss Circumnavigation map

The Circumnavigation of Globe by Pacific Bliss, 2000-2008. (from The Long Way Back)

The second person to complete a circumnavigation (1577-1580) was Francis Drake, who discovered the Drake Passage. The English circumnavigator sailed westward from England but entered the Pacific via the Strait of Magellan. He was the first captain to lead an expedition throughout the circumnavigation.

The third circumnavigator was Martin Ignacio de Loyola who completed a westward circumnavigation from 1580-84 westward from Spain and then completed another circumnavigation from 1585-1589 eastward from Spain; he was the first to circumnavigate each way and the first to use an overland route during his circumnavigation. With his two trips from Europe to South America, Loyola was probably the most widely traveled man in history up to the 17th century.

Noted First Circumnavigators in History

There were many more firsts to follow:

  • Giovanni Francesco Gemelli Careri sailed around the world in multiple voyages from 1693-1698 using nothing but public transportation. He inspired Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days.
  • William Dampier, an Englishman, was the first to circumnavigate three times (1708-1711).
  • The Dolphin was the first ship to survive two circumnavigations (with Samuel Wallis and Philip Carteret).
  • Jeanne Bare, disguised as a man during the first French circumnavigation, was the first woman to circumnavigate the globe.
  • My hero, James Cook, made the first circumnavigation that lost not one man to scurvy. (HMS Resolution; 1772-1775).
  • Sir James Simpson made the first land circumnavigation by crossing Canada and Siberia (1841-1842).
  • The paddle sloop HMS Driver made the first steamship circumnavigation. (1845-1847).
  • Joshua Slocum made the first single-handed circumnavigation (1895-1898). He wrote a sailing memoir, published in 1900, called Sailing Alone Around the World about his single-handed global circumnavigation aboard his sloop, Spray. His successful book inspired decades of voyagers.
  • During Operation Sandblast in 1960, the USS Triton made the first underwater circumnavigation.
  • Yuri Gargarin, Soviet pilot and cosmonaut, circumnavigated the planet in 1961 for 108 minutes.
  • David Scott Cowper made the first circumnavigation by motorboat in 1985.
  • Dodge Morgan was the first American to sail solo around the world, nonstop. (American Promise. 1985-1986)
  • Hank de Velde, in 1997, sailed a catamaran around the world—eastward—in 119 days nonstop. To my knowledge, he is still the only person to perform this feat singlehanded on a catamaran.
  • Ellen MacArthur, to my knowledge, is still the fastest female circumnavigator. She sailed a trimaran B&Q/Castorama around the world in 71 days in 2005.
  • Laura Dekker, 16 in 2012, was the youngest person to complete a circumnavigation.

 

A Sense of Accomplishment

Anyone who completes a circumnavigation can’t help but feel pleased and proud of his or her accomplishment. I describe how we felt in the last chapter of my nautical/adventure coffee table book trilogy, The Long Way Back:

“We’re back where we started,” Gunter says. “It feels strange—like a miracle.”

“I know. We always sailed on…always westward toward the setting sun.”

We’re part of that uncommon and exceptional breed: circumnavigators. That word begins to sink in. What does that mean to us? We’ve fought the sea and won. Yet, in the end, we’ve taken that sea—with all it’s raw power and wisdom—into our souls.

A myriad of emotions assaults Gunter and me—feelings that we sort out and share with each other later. First, we feel the relief that we made it around the world safely. There’s a sense of completion, that we don’t have to push anymore. We’ve closed a momentous chapter in our lives, and we can never return to who we were before. But even though this adventure has ended, we know more adventures and Moments of Bliss lie ahead of us as we travel through life together. Beyond all that, there’s outright elation as well, and we bask in what we’ve accomplished. We set a goal, and we achieved it!

Pacific Bliss Circumnavigation

Lois and Gunter on the deck of Pacific Bliss at the completion of their world circumnavigation

On the way to Mt. Popa and Table Mountain, a popular tourist site southeast of Bagan, Burma, our guide parked alongside the road and led us into a small village. It’s one of the many memories of our recent trip to Myanmar that I’ll never forget. Back in 2011, I enjoyed Walking a Village outside of Varanasi, India on the way to Sarnath to visit Buddhist sites. After that experience, I vowed that I would continue to use this method of “slow travel” during future trips. I was not disappointed.

As we entered the village, we were enthusiastically greeted by small children. Some were shy, but most warmed up to me after I crouched to their level.

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As we walked among the thatch-roof huts, we introduced ourselves to a family sow and her brood who scurried away to hide underneath a nearby yam patch.

The family pig

The family pig

The brood of piglets

The brood of piglets

I was impressed with the use of solar panels in the village. One panel could power a small 6-inch TV. One home owner proudly showed how he could charge batteries to power a radio or a smart phone. He showed us his living space. I noticed that his motorcycle was kept inside, under the thatched roof.

Cycle in a village home

Cycle in a village home

This solar panel can power a small radio

This solar panel can power a small radio

Large solar panel on thatched roof

Large solar panel on thatched roof

A group of villagers were busy harvesting peanuts. They smiled as we passed by.

Villagers harvesting peanuts

Villagers harvesting peanuts

We didn’t meet many older children because they were in school. So we stopped on by to take a look at the classrooms before we returned to our vehicle.

Village school

Village school

 

We are asked this question when our friends find out that we are off to yet another adventure on Saturday.

Gunter responds, “Why go? Because it’s there. And it’s exotic.”

“And because the country has recently opened up to tourism,” I answer. “It hasn’t been exploited—yet.”

In 2010, Myanmar (formerly Burma) held its first free elections in nearly two decades. President Thein Sein came to power in 2011 with the promise of reforms to reconnect Myanmar to the global economy. Burma will never be the same. A huge industrial park is scheduled to open mid-2015. Over 400 hectares are currently being cleared for the first section of the Thilawa Special Economic Zone (SEZ). Some of the 22 factories set to move in will begin building their factories this month. But before the economy gains, the local monastery will gain its share. “With every corporate groundbreaking,” reports the October 18th Economist, will come a donation to the monks that may one day pay for a grand golden stupa.” (The monastery has much to gain because it sits on a finger of forest jutting into the park.)

12-Novice-monk-in-maroon-ro

This first business park will employ 70,000 workers when running at full tilt. It will provide food, consumer products and construction materials for the domestic market and will export shoes, clothing and car parts. Two other such parks are planned.

When I visited Burma back in 2006 (see previous blog entry: Burma, my next favorite Place) the big question was: Should you go to Burma? Aun Lang Suu Kyi, Burmese Peace Prize Laureate and opposition leader, had asked tourists not to come because the money would only prop up the dictatorship. The income from the hotels would go straight into the government’s coffers. Even so, most of the people I talked with welcomed tourism anyway. They wanted to sell whatever goods they could in their meager stalls. Now, they are beaming. Because tourism is booming.

Investors are dreaming about investing in Myanmar. The country sits right between the massive markets of China and India to the north and Thailand to the south. It abounds in arable land, water and natural resources: oil, natural gas and precious stones such as jade, rubies and sapphires. From 2010 to 2013, foreign direct investment tripled. But the picture isn’t all rosy. There needs to be massive investment in education to create a well-trained work force. The average Burmese spends just four years in school!

As I stated in my previous blog: “That short trip gave me a taste of Burma I’ll never forget. But it was just an appetizer. Now I’m preparing for the main course.”

41 Girl  at market posing with tub

We’ll be there for almost three weeks. And most of that time, I’ll be off the grid. I’ll post stories and pictures after I return.

Did you know that there is a lake in this world where the jellyfish has lost its sting?

Gunter and I signed up for a snorkel-and-dive tour by Fish & Fins in Palau while attending the 9th Festival of Pacific Arts there. After a 45-minute ride, we were anchored in a shallow water spot called The New Drop-Off, near The Ngedbus Wall, widely considered to be the world’s best wall dive, dropping from knee-deep water to almost 1000 feet.

There are more than 1400 species of fish in Palau waters, and hundreds of species of corals. An underwater photographer friend once told me, “You can go to six different countries in the world to experience the greatest diversity of coral and fish, or just go to Palau.” He wasn’t kidding!

Wikipedia image, 425px-Palau_Regions_mappwnewz (1)

As soon as Gunter and I snorkeled toward the drop-off, a white-tipped shark swam lazily by. Green turtles and a lone hawksbill paddled by, unfazed. Small schools of blue line snappers hovered effortlessly, while gold-striped fusiliers, damsel and butterfly fishes accented the extraordinary view. I recognized species I’d seen in French Polynesia, Fiji, and Vanuatu, but in Palau, they were all together in one place. It doesn’t get any better than that!

Our second stop was Clam City, home of the world’s largest mollusks, four feet wide and up to 500 pounds. They rested in a sandy bottom eight to ten feet below as I floated over them, elated and amazed. Their huge upholstered lips reminded me of a ‘70s-era furniture store filled with overstuffed sofas of lime-green, orange, brown and rust.

A once-in-a-lifetime experience, however, awaited us in Jellyfish Lake, a saltwater lake on Mecherchar Island, about 18 miles from Koror. This is one of 70 or so marine lakes scattered throughout the limestone Rock Islands of the Palau Archipelago.  There, we could swim with thousands of fragile jellyfish without getting stung.  The lake had been cut off from the main lagoon eons ago, so without natural predators, their trailing tentacles lost their sting.

jellyfish-pic3

Click on photo for source

golden-jellyfish-in-jellyfish-lake_24701_600x450

Golden Jellyfish in Jellyfish Lake. Photo Source: National Geographic. Click on photo to read more.

What Fish & Fins didn’t tell us was that our group of eight had to climb over a ridge through a tangled jungle to reach the lake in the interior of the island! Fortunately, Gunter and I were wearing sturdy reef shoes instead of flip-flops! Panting, we slowly picked our way up a steep coral-rock pathway grasping a handrail made of thick rope. At the top, our guide pointed down to a flat, green lake surrounded by jungle. “The jellyfish congregate in that spot of murky lime-green water you see at the middle of the lake.” We all rushed down to close the gap.

The swim-with-the-jellyfish adventure was worth every bit of that sweltering hike. We donned our masks and fins and set out toward the tantalizing middle of the lake. It seemed to take forever. Once there, I experienced the most unnerving, yet pleasant sensation of my entire life! I cautiously approached the school of jellyfish. Some of them gliding past my mask were the size of my hand; others were tiny as a snail. They were transparent…delicate… intricate, like butterfly wings. Soft, pliant tentacles brushed over my shoulders and down my arms. Then suddenly I was immersed in a strange, sensuous world of wonder. It felt like thousands of soft feathers stroking my entire body. I wanted to float there forever, still as can be. But the command of our guide to regroup broke into my reverie.

We enjoyed two more snorkel stops on the way back to Fish & Fins: through coral gardens of staghorn, sea fans, whip coral, and brain coral—in a kaleidoscope of colors ranging from blues and teals to red-orange, gold, and amber. None of it compared to my jellyfish encounter!

Note: Both golden jellies and moon jellies exist in the lake, but a sighting of a moon jelly is rare during the daylight hours because they generally only migrate to the surface in the evening to feed.  Although these species living in the lake have nematocysts (stinging cells), they are not powerful enough to harm humans. However, if you are known to have an allergic reaction to jellyfish stings, it is suggested you might consider wearing a skin for protection. Posted by Liz Tuttle

Click on photo for source

Click on photo for source

In continuing my “generations” blog theme, I wanted to share a personal story pertaining to “The Greatest Generation.”

Every year now, families mourn the passing of those who belonged to what Tom Brokaw coined “The Greatest Generation.” These were “the good warriors,” born from 1909 to 1928. The experiences that bound this generation together, however, did not begin with World War II. Before they fought, they grew up watching their parents lose jobs, scrimp and save during the Great Depression. And that frugal mentality stuck.

Last year, I mourned the passing of my Uncle James. Lester, my father, and the eldest of his siblings, had a warm spot in his heart for James, his only brother. He waited a long time for him to be born, because his four other siblings—Carol, Gertrude, Mildred and Agnes—were girls. James had a sunny, quiet disposition, and I could tell that he adored Lester.

Growing up on a Wisconsin farm, I didn’t see much of Uncle James, who lived far away “in the cities” and serviced organs for a living for Schmidt Music. I was surprised that such an occupation existed! James always drove his family to the farm to see ours during the holidays.

What I remember most about my uncle was how he and his wife Marion, along with my father and my mother Sigrid, took off on an adventure to far-away Florida during the cold Midwestern winter of 1955. I had just turned thirteen the month before.

My dad wanted to check out the new humped-back Brahma beef cattle newly introduced to Florida. He dreamed of moving south to warmer weather. He yearned for the freedom of not being tied down to dairy cows. My mother was bogged down with children to raise. She had never traveled beyond the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul.  She looked forward to the first vacation she’d ever had.

In my family, tales begin and end with the year and make of a car. This one is no different.

1949 Nash. Photo Credit: Google Images

1949 Nash
Photo Credit: Google Images

My younger siblings and I watched Uncle James and Aunt Marion pull into the dirt driveway of our farm in a 1949 Nash. We all gathered around to take a look.  The front seats could lie flat, fitting into the rear seats to make a bed. Marion and James would sleep in there, and Sigrid and Lester would pitch a small pup tent each night. The Nash was stuffed to the hilt with all manner of food staples. The four planned to purchase fresh food and picnic along the way. They would cook outside on a small camp stove most nights.

My mother talked about how difficult it was to sleep in a pup tent alongside the road; one night, they climbed back into the car to take refuge from the cold. The next night, they checked into a motel, but that was the only time. They may have stopped at a restaurant once or twice.  Frugal to the max, the four drove for about 4,000 miles on $45.00. That Nash averaged 25 mpg. My mother bragged about buying tangerines for ten cents a dozen, grapefruit for seventy-five cents a bushel, and carrots for five cents a bunch. Wieners cost 29 cents a pound.

The four travelers were awestruck by images of the south: vibrant roses blooming in Georgia; gray moss choking shade trees; tobacco fields stretching as far as the eye could see; and finally, lush Florida farms full of winter vegetables, pineapples and peach trees. But what I remember them talking about the most was how they were shocked to see separate restrooms for the colored folks, even separate entrances at drive-in theaters. Living in the rural Midwest, they had never seen nor imagined such blatant discrimination!

That Nash was a real trouper! It limped home the last four miles with a second flat tire—and without a spare. After business hours, no service stations had been open. There was no way to repair the tire. The four tired passengers stumbled into our farmhouse at midnight. I heard a ruckus, but being a teenager, promptly fell back asleep. The next morning I found that, finding all the beds full of sleeping children, Aunt Marion and Uncle James had simply crashed on the floor.

My father never fulfilled that dream of heading south until he moved to Texas upon retiring! Living so far away, he wasn’t able to see much of Uncle James in his later years. Aunt Marion was always very sweet to my mother, who was trapped on that dairy farm and eventually raised nine children there. Sigrid didn’t get out much, but she often talked about that Florida escapade. Who knows? Perhaps those tales of adventure fueled my own lifelong dreams of traveling!