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Infiltrating North Korea, Keyhole Into Burma, Band on the Run ... in China, Chinese Buffet, A Canadian in Beijing, Volunteer Vacation: Tajikistan
I love a good sign of fall, and this one is pretty spectacular. Shot at a beach in Naoshima, Japan by narinnr, you have to love the beautiful blues behind the wildly decorated pumpkin. Looks like fall is just around the corner!
If you’ve got some great travel shots you’d love to share, be sure to upload them to the Gadling pool on Flickr. We might just pick one as our Photo of the Day.
Clifton Maloney, the husband of U.S. Representative from New York Carolyn Maloney, has died while climbing in the Himalaya. The millionaire investment banker was 71 years old, and was on Cho Oyu, the sixth highest mountain in the world, reaching 26,906 feet in height.
Maloney was described as an avid adventurer who was into running, sailing, and climbing. He had competed in the New York City Marathon on 20 occasions and climbed all over the world. After successfully summitting Cho Oyu, he gained the distinction of being the oldest person to achieve that feat.
Following that successful summit, Maloney and his team descended to one of their prepared high camps to rest after a long day at altitude. Reportedly he told one of the other climbers “I am the happiest man in the world. I just climbed a beautiful mountain” before crawling into his sleeping bag for the night. He never woke up, and at this time the exact cause of his death is still unknown.
Located just 12 miles west of Mount Everest, Cho Oyu falls on the border between Nepal and Tibet, and despite its height, it is generally considered the easiest of the fourteen 8000 meter peaks. Because of this, there are numerous guided expeditions to the mountain each year. Maloney was climbing as part of one of these professional expeditions.
Maloney is survived not only by his wife, but two daughters, his mother and sister.
It was only a blip on the world news last week, but historians will remember it as the end of an era. Ertugrul Osman, the last heir to the throne of the Ottoman Empire, has died at the age of 97.
He was the last grandson of Sultan Abdul-Hamid II, and would have become Sultan himself if the caliphate hadn’t been abolished in 1922 as the remnants of the Ottoman Empire remade itself into the Republic of Turkey following defeat in World War One.
Osman reportedly never wanted to be Sultan, but if the empire survived he would have ruled over a civilization of great artistic achievements. The Ottomans may be a thing of the past but you can still enjoy Ottoman art, especially the architecture that graces all parts of the former empire, which once stretched west from Istanbul almost to Vienna, and south across the Middle East to Yemen and west into North Africa.
Ottoman architecture took its cues from Byzantium, an empire that ruled much of the area the Ottomans took over, as well as the refined styles of Iran. The gallery shows a sampling of what to expect as you journey through the former empire.
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The big night has finally arrived – a fact made tangible by the surreal moon strung up in the sky by wispy clouds.
Legend has it that the first party was held in 1985 for a crowd of 25-30 backpackers. Word of mouth spread and caused the gathering to escalate with every new month and every new full moon.
Tonight, anywhere from 20,000 to 30,000 people of the world will converge on sands of Haad Rin in a few hours. For the second night in a row, the streets are teeming with young backpackers.
The buzz in the air that I felt yesterday is even more feverish. Vendors are setting up their stalls on the beach, neatly laying out rows of colorful plastic buckets that contain playful displays of drink combinations. They have crude signs that cash in on phrases that have become popular with tourists, such as “I love you long time”. There are sodas, liquor, and the infamous energy drinks that are probably illegal in most western countries; Shark, M150, and the infamous Krating Daeng.
The latter, which is marked with two red bulls charging each other, inspired the development of worldwide energy drink Red Bull when Austrian entrepreneur (and now billionaire) Dietrich Mateschitz found that it cured his jet lag on a trip to Thailand in 1982. Mateschitz partnered with Krating Daeng’s owner and in 1987 launched a reformulated, carbonated, and more sexy version of the Thai drink…but don’t be fooled – the original is still the most potent, and the better option if you plan on seeing the sun rise over Haad Rin.
Nearer to the water, more vendors assemble canvases lit by black-lights that promote colorful body art. The available paintings range from the magnificent and inspirational logo of 7-11 to more logical images like dragons, stars, and butterflies. I pass on the paintings – I’ve only brought out a few hundred baht that’s wadded in a secure pocket, because pickpockets are notorious for getting close to dancers and running off with whatever camera / passport / wallet is in reach.
Further down the beach is a section of sand that is fenced off. Signs hung on the plastic fence indicate it to be a designated “sleep area” and medical tent. A few eager partygoers have already managed to fall asleep fully clothed, with plastic buckets just out of reach and heads resting on plush pillows of sand. A necessary power-nap before the main festivities begin.
I drift closer to the music that’s slowly and steadily increasing in volume. It’s a thumping, bass-rich beat that causes my head to involuntary start bobbing. Maybe it’s the M150, maybe it’s the friendly vibe, or maybe it’s the colorful light and decorations of the various “dance stages” on the beach – either way, I have an increasing desire to dance – and in my 23 years on Earth I’ve rarely ever been known for wanting to dance. I’m momentarily distracted a bright flash of light, and I keep drifting.
I find my way to a circle of people that are gathered around a giant jump-rope. When I arrive, a few Thai men are dousing the rope with some liquid, and it’s not until I see a spark that I realize what’s about to happen. The rope ignites, and immediately the men start rotating the rope.
As it gains momentum, there are dozens of young men just steps away, eager to show their courage by jumping into the center and hopping over the now blazing obstacle. Some make it unscathed until the rope fizzles out. Others trip up, a result of one too many buckets – and are grazed by the rope, but remarkably make it out without combusting.
But these scars will only later become supporting evidence to familiar backpacker war-stories that will be told again and again to new friends in hostels around the world.
The most shocking occurrence is a naked man that dashes into the center and enjoys a few successful revolutions of the rope that are echoed by gasps and laughter from the crowd. The laughter quickly stops when the rope is accidentally caught between his legs, and he is brought to the ground, yet again (mostly) unharmed.
There are several more fire dancers close by that twirl lit poi, staff, or nunchakus. Their talent is amazing, and it occurs to me that this skill is the result of a daily dedication – it is their sole existence – spinning fire for the entertainment of wandering nomads.
A few European amateurs get into the fire spinner’s circles and perform slow, clumsy moves that make me fully appreciate the Thai performer’s talent. The Europeans assume that the clapping is for them, and so they continue to gracelessly defame the delicate practice.
Finally, the crowds have all found their way to the beach. I weave between a mass of bodies that throb in unison, connected by music and perhaps also by the journey that it took to make it to this exact moment. I dig my toes into the sand and let my limbs move freely. I’m suddenly not a bad dancer – but possibly now even a mediocre dancer. Everyone is moving together. Everyone is having a good time. The energy flows to the steady, thick beat for hours.
Finally, a husky glow begins to appear over the water. The sun rises, and the crowd dissipates. Newly united couples run down the beach hand in hand. People sleep peacefully on the sand.
The rest retreat to their bungalows, and another Full Moon Party comes to an end.
If you’ve missed the previous articles in this series, be sure to check out the entire Dim Sum Dialogues column for more on the road from Bangkok to Ko Pha Ngan.
China has once again closed off the borders of Tibet to foreign travelers ahead of the October 1st holiday celebrating 60 years of Communist rule. According to this story from the Associated Press, the travel ban went into effect on Tuesday and is expected to last at least until the 8th October and is the result of fears of protests and demonstrations in the Himalayan state. The article says that while no new visitors are being allowed in, travelers already in Tibet have been allowed to stay.
Besides shutting down the borders, security has also been increased across the country, particularly in the larger urban centers such as Lhasa. These measures have become common place in recent months, starting with a crackdown in March of 2008, following a series of riots, that left the country shut off to the rest of the world for months. The Chinese claim that 22 people were killed during that incident, but Tibetan nationals claim that that number is in the hundreds. Beijing made the same move in February of this year out of fears of further protests around the 50th anniversary of the exile of the Dalai Lama.
The economic impact of shutting down the borders is felt directly by the Tibetan people, many of whom make their living in the tourist trade. Autumn is traditionally the second busiest time of the year for tourism in Tibet, with trekkers and mountaineers visiting the country following the departure of the summer monsoon. According to the AP story, the effects are already being felt, with foreign visitors to local hotels already down 20%-30%.
Hopefully the October 1st holiday comes and goes without incident and the borders reopen on schedule on the 8th.
