As I sit, writing this to you, dear reader, your humble correspondents are tearing our way across the pacific ocean on China Airlines 00:05 flight from San Francisco to Taipei.

The past days are whirling through our heads with a kind of fury only rivaled by the anticipation which we excitedly harbor for the road ahead. Jolly memories of raging New Year’s parties with dear friends mingle with bittersweet longing for the loved ones that we are about leave behind.

Scott’s mother was driving like a bat out of hell, as Scott and I rifled through our bags, confirming the presence of items as they suggested themselves as a flurry of little question marks in our minds. I felt like my mind was a dripping faucet, ideas would form and cling to my attention, then fall away only to be replaced by another. We would truly have been in trouble had we not been planning this for the last six months. Thanks to our planning, all seemed to be there. But to be honest it didn’t matter. Unless one of us had forgotten a passport, Diane was not going to turn around.  AsiaWheeling was engaged, and could not be deactivated. It was time to reach for the old tools we forged on the first trip, to relax, to allow experience to wash over us, and to content ourselves with working within the realm of that which is under our control. And that which is under our control was about to diminish sharply.
I sent a flurry of text messages, milking all I could from the last few moments on my American SIM card. At times, I felt on the verge of tears, as I exchanged bits of ASCII with my loved ones. And then, quite abruptly we were at the airport.

We were met there by a long queue of people stretching in a snaking line from the China Airlines counter. Though the line was long, the staff performed commendably, ushering us through the line. We shuffled slowly, moving our folding bicycles foot by foot, closer the the counter. Scott and I were startled to run into multiple friends –from Brown and even Scott’s high school  Sacred Heart Prep– in this mother of all lines.

Not only were these fellows (a Mr. Jason Rhine and Mr. Jesse Maddox) in the vast queue, but the two proved to be on our flight as well. However, we noted that Jesse was nowhere to be found in row 44, as advertised on his ticket. We puzzled over this as we dug into the 1:30 am dinner of ambiguous fish and red sauce which was offered to us by China Airlines.

So far China Airlines has achieved high marks all around, provided us with Uma Thurman to watch, a fine selection of beverages, and a friendly staff sporting skull and cross bones pirate watches… but has completely failed in one notable zone: no ventilation. Well you can’t win them all can you?

Well, this is it. It has begun. The last few days have whirled by Scott and me like a blustery fall day, peppering us with goodbyes –to old and new friends, family and loved ones, and some of the less obvious things like English signage and running water. With both hearts weighted by these goodbyes, and lighted with excitement about the untold wonders that lie ahead, we strode onwards through a wind of passports and visas, various cables, bottles upon bottles of pills, and many packings and unpackings of our bags.

We stood amidst this bluster in the luxurious and surveyed  our inventory for the next ten months. Scott and I carry three items each. A general backpack, a technology/carry-on bag, and our Dahon collapsible bicycles.

We stared out across the gleaming carpet upon which all the equipment that was to propel us over these ten months was laid, and marveled at the immensity of what lay ahead. For those of you who are not so into inventories, by all means, cease your reading immediately.

For the rest of you out there, who share Scott’s and my own propensity for lists… I give you without further ado, our inventory.

Mobile Pharmacy:

• Imodium
• Benadryl
• Pink Bismuth Tablets
• Imitrex
• Prevacid
• Dramamine
• Medicated Eye Drops
• Jarrow Brand Saccharomyces Boulardii + MOS
• Jarrow Brand EPS tablets
• Tamaflu
• Diflucan
• An Epi Pen
• Promethazine
• Malerone
• Flagyl
• Nitrofur MAC
• Ciprofloxin
• Hydroco/APAP
• Azythromycin
• Metronidazol
• Flexaril
• Doxycycline (a lot of it)
• Tetrazodone
• Bandages
• Moleskin
• Micheal’s Paraherbs
• Red Bull Energy Shots

Woody’s Carry On:

• AsiaWheeling Business card holder
• Bundle of AsiaWheeling business cards
• 1 Canon Power Shot A610
• 1 Battery Charger
• 2 sets ear plugs
• 1 Alphasmart Dana
• 1 pouch filled with cables
• 1 MacBook Pro
• 1 Dop kit (toothbrush, dental floss and the like)
• 1 copy of Nick Danziger’s “Danziger’s Travels“
• 1 copy of Micheal Chabon’s “Gentleman of the Road”
• 1 Document pouch including:
• 3 photocopies of my passport
• Evidence of my exit flight from Indonesia
• A copy of my diploma
• A signed and notarized letter from our great helmsman commending us to the journey

Woody’s large backpack:

• 4 pairs of Ex-Officio Travel Underpants
• 5 linen shirts
• 1 AsiaWheeling t-shirt
• 1 Russian short-sleeved Liz Claiborne knock-off
• 1 pair of Japanese men’s pants
• 1 pair of running shorts
• 2 pairs of Smart Wool Socks
• 1 wool sweater which my father purchased in the seventies
• 1 Master Brand Braided Steel BIke Lock
• 2 mini bungi cables
• 1 Master Brand micro luggage lock
• 1 black raincoat and rain pants
• 1 spoke wrench
• 1 triangular allen wrench set
• 2 Knog tire patch kit
• 1 dive mask
• 2 Wiki Readers
• 1 flashlight
• 1 clothesline
• 1 pair of gloves
• 1 steripen
• 1 quick dry towel
• 1 silk sleeping sac

Books:

• Edward W. Said – Orientalism
• David Byrne – Bicycle Diaries
• Niall Ferguson – The Cash Nexus
• Lonely Planet – Central Asian Phrasebook
• Luxe Guides: Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City, Laos & Cambodia, Phuket

Electronics:

• Flip MinoHD Video Recorder
• Earbud Headphones
• WikiReader
• MacBook Pro
• Olympus E-P1 Micro 4:3 Digital Camera
• Various USB and international charging cables
• Wintec WBT 201 GPS DataLogger
• MiniMaglite flashlight

Mobile Pharmacy:

• Doxycicline 280 Pills (Anti-Malarial)
• Ciprofloxin (60 pills Antibiotic)
• Acetomenaphen with Codeine (Pain Killer)
• Azythromyacin (Antibiotic)
• Jarro Dophilus EPS Pro-Biotic
• Saccharromyces Boulardii + MOS
• Michaels ParaHerbs
• Michaels Adrenal Xtra
• Band Aids
• Ibuprofen
• Ultrathon Insect Repellent

Dop Kit:

• Tooth Brush
• Tooth Paste
• Razors
• Sunscreen
• ToothPicks
• Dental Floss

Corporate Identity:

• 600 AsiaWheeling business cards
• 500 AsiaWheeling stickers

Clothing:

• AsiaWheeling 2.0 V-Neck T-Shirt
• AsiaWheeling 1.0 V-Neck T-Shirt
• Muji V-Neck Undershirt

• William Cheng & Sons Button-Down Shirts (3)
• Christie’s Panama Hat
• wool sweater
• Microfibre towel
• handkerchief
• 3 pairs Exofficio boxer-briefs, cotton boxer shorts
• raincoat
• 2 Carhartt Shorts
• Levis 514 jeans, khaki pants
• 4 pairs socks

Shoes:

• hiking boots
• Havana sandals
• Blue Zig Zag Wino Canvas Sneakers (Size 13)

Bike Equiptment:

• 3-size allen wrench
• tire irons
• Knog Patch Kit
• repair kit for Planetary gear shift
• Dahon Speed TR Folding Bicycle
• Knog Nerd, Frog, and Gecko Lights

Misc:

• RedBull Energy Shots
• Sunglasses
• Neck Pillow
• Scuba Mask
• Maglite, Pencils, Muji Pens
• Passport
• Documentation, Sir Kensingtons Work
• Pack Lock
• Quickdry Towel
• A copy of my Brown Diploma, My Eagle Scout Award, and a letter of service recognition from Congress, as well as our Mandate from the Great Helmsman David Campbell

Bags:

• Karrimore Track 30 Daypack
• REI Starlite Backpack

Cash:

• USD, HKD, SGD, VND, CNY, JPY in various amounts

Suddenly we were in Hong Kong. The airport and the emigration process were easy, efficient, and metallic. All around us, money flowed with a furious intensity. In no time we had turned our Baht into HK$

and were purchasing Octopus cards. Octopus cards are a kind of universal proximity card. Our primary use for them was to ride the MTR, the spotlessly clean, efficient, and devastatingly metallic subway/light rail system of this fine city.

Using the Octopus card, one can not only ride all over Hong Kong on trains, but they are also able to buy snacks from vending machine, pay for your purchases at the pharmacy or 7-11 (Hong Kong is full of 7-11s), take a boat ride across the Harbor, and all simply by smacking your wallet down on a yellow landing pad. One can even visit any of the strategically located octopus inquiry pedestals, and slap down your wallet to see you transaction history and current balance. The most unbelievable thing about the octopus card is that when you are done with it, you get not only your 50 HK$ deposit back, but also the money you had placed on the card! Unbelievable.

Much of our time in Hong Kong it was raining hard. The rest of the time is was threatening to rain or misting fiercely. This is not to say the the city was not a beautiful sight to behold. This is to say that we spent a lot of time dashing through the rain in and out of shops, restaurants, and tea houses. Hong Kong was a time for getting things together, refueling our minds and bodies, and purchasing much needed provisions for the upcoming journey into the heart of China.

A List of Important Tasks Accomplished in Hong Kong:

Umbrellas — purchased

Woody’s Health — verified by physician (no charge; the man liked asiaheeling.com)

Pants Which Were Terribly Filthy After 11 Days in India — cleaned

Terrible Plaid Shorts — jettisoned

Colds — Discovered in both Scott and myself

Strange Chinese Medicines — averted

Inordinate Amount of Cash — spent

Very Tight Pants — purchased

Tap-water — consumed with relish

Replenishment of Spirit — achieved

Internet — found readily available

Savage New Calculator Watch — purchased from fantastic Pankisani fellow

Ability to easily communicate with the US — present

Our time standing on the doorstep of China was a much needed interim in the savage adventure which is (oh dear and valued reader don’t worry) is about to continue with renewed savagery. I found Hong Kong to be a very livable city. So much did this place appeal to me, that at times I found myself considering working and living there for a piece of my life. But as always, I stand by the mantra, of it is not so much where you are and what you are doing, as who you are doing this thing with. And Scott, having lived in Hong Kong for his study abroad experience, was a most knowledgeable and capable guide, with many charming friends.

For deeper insights into our time in Hong Kong, I fear I must refer you to the gallery, where you will no doubt enjoy our rather large chunk of Hong Kong photo-documentation.

I was frantically feeding the last of my Baht into the international phone-call machine in the luxurious and futuristic Bangkok airport. My mother was on the other end. It must have been two or three in the morning there, but  we struggled against the Bhat clock to relay vital information:  from my mother to me: that I had most likely contracted and E-Coli infestation, and that the discoloration of my hands (now almost completely gone) was due to blood vessels inside me breaking apart and bleeding into the interior of my body cavity. Furthermore, it was the right move to be on the, Cipro, despite the disappearance of my symptoms. I was trying to communicate to my dear mother a sense of confidence and that she should not worry. Some 30 seconds into this reasonably complicated exchange, the Baht ran dry and the connection was cut.

At least some information had been transmitted, and it looked like, as I had been hoping, I was not going to die. After a nip of Thai tea (not to be confused with bubble tea, as it so often is in America). The creamy beverage was more like a mildly sweet melted ice cream than an iced tea, but none the less, blew me away. We sipped and looked out the window at the face of the Thai king. Thailand is a thriving monarchy, and the likeness of the king is to be found everywhere.

We reached the waiting area for our flight and sat down near the first class flight attendants. This day we were flying Emirates, and the first class attendants were dressed in the most lavish uniforms, with tan veils hanging from their bright red caps. On the flight, though, we were not treated by these women. Instead we had an honest to goodness prince working the cabin. He was tall and majestic and very regally told the Indian fellows ahead of us that, no, they could not have another beer before they finished the one they were currently consuming. All in all, the flight on Emirates was splendid. The food was great,

service was impeccable, the airplane was clean and smelled so good, and I was feeling the best I had in days.

Our Airplane landed in Thailand, I looked out the window, and my jaw fell open. The Bangkok airport is amazing, like a giant metal caterpillar sprawled across the tarmac, airplanes suckling at its many teats. We exited the plane to find the interior to be not so different than that of Icheon, that is to say, a giant hyper-sheik shopping center.

Scott explained to me that the place we were going to spend the night was called Khaosan Road. So when I was at the immigration desk, I scribbled “COWSAN” on my card and handed it to the man. He laughed out loud and stamped my passport. That was it. We were into Thailand. As far I was was concerned you could have told me this was Tokyo, and I would have ate it up. I scanned the gleaming hall for Scott’s Panama hat. I quickly located him, but not as quickly as in India. One of the first things I noticed was that there were white people here. Lots of Europeans and Britts. And American music was playing everywhere. We went to an ATM to procure some Baht (see the symbol below) and we hopped a bus to Khoasan Road.

(more…)

I awoke on the soft sheets of Mrs. Jalan’s guest room after my 16 hours of rest. The bed still called to me, as did the bathroom, but not with the urgency it had possessed the day before. I felt much better. My plumbing was still reeling from the disease which had racked it, but I was able to put some lentil pancakes into my stomach and eat some mango pieces which were served to my by the most gracious and capable house staff. As I ate, I looked down at my hands. Both of them were covered in purple and green splotches. This, it seemed, was the last straw. I logged onto the internet in the house’s most luxurious technology room, and quickly sent off some pictures of my hands, to be examined by AsiaWheeling’s doctors back in the states. Despite this bizarre symptom, I felt on the whole much better. I had also taken a pill to relieve the dysentery, so, despite the impeding journey to Thailand there was little to fear…

…until the Malarone crazy hour hit. This time it hit hard, my system was empty and the Malarone took rein. It was just after Mrs. Jalan’s most gracious driver dropped us at the Kolkata airport, that I began to be wracked with indecision and anxiety. We walked to the Jet airways check-in and a man next to a large contraption asked if we wanted to have our bags wrapped in cellophane to prevent tamper and damage. We declined. But the sneaking suspicion that we perhaps should have obliged him and protected our luggage crept upon me like a begging leper. We checked in, went through security, had our passports stamped, all the while I was, on a certain level, mortified that we might, just might, have made the worst decision of our lives. And our bags would, without the added protection of cellophane wrap, be spit from the universe like a watermelon seed.

(more…)

After our long, parabolic flight across the Atlantic, you faithful correspondents strode somewhat bleary eyed into Seoul’s Incheon international airport, though I in retrospect I am unsure if “airport” is really the correct term. Indeed planes did land and unload/load people, but the entire international terminal was more like a spotlessly clean shopping mall, occupied exclusively by expensive European retailers and East Asian eateries than anything I have come to know as an airport. We strode through the gleaming terminal surrounded by well dressed Korean business men and young Russian couples, where the burly men struggled to keep up with giant spindly blonds. Also striking was the silence of the place. While American malls (or airports for that matter) subject their patrons to an assault of musics, screaming people, and crowded visual stimulus, this place was quite, minimal, silent, and colored tastefully in deep sea greens, stark whites and dark grays. We stopped into a food-court-type enclave and ordered a pair of Erdinger weissbeirs amidst children dressed in Pier Cardin sweater vests slurping pungent noodles from bowls of broth. We left the cafeteria in much revived spirits and we on our way the gate when we noticed this sign:

and thought perhaps this was exactly what we were looking for. We ventured in to inquire and inside we met a very kind representative who informed us that we did not have the sufficient time to make the little hand painted fans which were the activity of the day, but we stayed to chat anyways, and (don’t tell anyone) were given a free couple of fans to boot. She explained that she had visited the States once: Las Vegas “for the slots” she said; won $400. May we one day be as lucky.

As we were boarding the plane we struck up a conversation with a Gujarati diamond merchant, with manufacturing operations in Surat. As we descended on the escalator, he explained he was a Jain, which among other things means he is forbidden to eat anything which grows beneath the earth: potatoes, onions etc… so while he liked Korea, or “KR, a very good place” as he put it, it was hard for him to eat there. When we finally reached the bottom of the escalator, ready to board the plane to Bombay he bid us farewell and mentioned, “I told my wife I missed my flight and I’m not coming home tonight… but I am!” May we one day be as lucky.

I awoke today somewhat groggy from our working late into the night finalizing the geoblogging software and no small time spent packing and unpacking our belongings, struggling to leave behind all but the most essential materials. I stumbled out of bed and peered over Norton’s shoulder to find to find him deep in the Unix command line, trying to download his capital markets training materials via recursive wget, just as we we were having some luck piping a list of urls into the wget procedure, the succulent aromas of fried ham, scrambled eggs and pancakes wafted upstairs. I donned my lucky shirt given to me by my good David Harrington friend We followed it like lemmings. After a delightful breakfast and an fascinating introduction to stem cell and cancer research by the illustrious John Norton, we realized it it was time we left the comfortable womb of Scott’s most gorgeous house and set forth into the unknown.

I was completely unable to contain my excitement, and grinned like a fool even throughout the entire “secondary screening” I was asked to endure by airport security. Beaming from the inside of a great glass box, I heard a soothing mechanical voice coo, “engaging air jets.” Suddenly I was hit by a barrage of tiny puffs of air, from every direction. After some whirring and clicking, a light turned green and I was told I had passed and could proceed. I walk out of security, still grinning and babbling, and joined Mr. Norton, headed for gate A7.

Korean Airlines is adorned with splendorous luxuries. I recommend the experience without a shred of reservation. For the flight attendants, in their delightful sea-foam uniforms of the flight attendants, complete with leather blazer and multiple dramatic sashes.

The food was also splendid and came often. We were given a beer and nuts course, followed by a futuristic bibimbop, with seaweed soup.

Desert was a round of clonozapam and a fitful sleep as we sailed through the north pacific towards Korea.