Help for the Nepal Earthquake

May 22nd, 2015 by David

Like everyone else, we were shocked and saddened by the news from Nepal. Lindsey spent most of the day after the quake reading news sites online. Fortunately, the people who we spent time with all appeared to be okay. Obviously, though, many others were not.

We made friends in Nepal, and now these people are involved in relief efforts. We have given money directly to two of these friends’ efforts, and you can do the same for one of them via the link below.

Amrit Ale, from Nepal, works for NOLS and the experiential learning program Where There Be Dragons. He also runs his own trekking company, Himalayan Quests, which, in addition to taking tourists to beautiful corners of Nepal, also runs ‘health camps’ in remote villages every year. We had a great time grabbing a beer with Amrit in Kathmandu, and then we hired a guide from Himalayan Quests for what might have been the most visually stunning part of our 10-month journey in Asia.

Amrit is now raising money to do direct work in some of the communities that are not being helped by the international aid agencies. He knows the mountains well, and I trust that he will use our money as well as if not better than any other group we could contribute to. Right now he is in the mountains building sanitation facilities for communities that had theirs destroyed in the quake. You can donate below:

Also, back here in the Bay Area, I recently attended a talk by Sandeep Giri, the founder of Gham Power, a solar company that works in Nepal. Following the quake, Sandeep started giving solar panels to communities that had lost electricity, helping people light their homes at night and charge their cell phones so that they can communicate with friends and family. He showed us pictures of people of people waiting for hours to get their phones charged, and told us about how terrified people were at night because they had no lights and were living in makeshift shelters anticipating aftershocks. Images of Gham Power’s work are on their Facebook page.

They are doing their best to respond to requests for energy, which are on this map. However, they need your help. Click on the image below to go to their IndieGoGo campaign.

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It’s strange to think that the temples we visited in Kathmandu and Bakhtapur just a few months ago are in ruins, or to see pictures of the tents in Nepal and think about how many people are now forced to live in them. From Kathmandu, one of my strongest memories is going up in one of the city’s tallest buildings, a tower built in the 1830s. We gained a beautiful view from the top, and as you can see, we were laughing and enjoying ourselves.

Nepal - Cycling and Kathamndu

Nepal - Cycling and Kathamndu

Nepal - Cycling and Kathamndu

The tower is no more, destroyed by the quake, and about 180 bodies were found among the rubble. It is scary to think that we could have been among those. We’re lucky to still be here. Nepal was one of our favorite countries, largely because the people were so friendly. Now they need our help.


 

East Coast Tour Pictures

April 24th, 2015 by David

My book and slideshow tour was more or less an extension of our past 10 months of travel—every day I had to figure out how to get to the next venue, where I’d be spending the night, and pack and unpack my panniers.

I flew to DC on a Wednesday (Lindsey joined later, in New York). I assembled del Fuego at the airport (thank you S&S couplers), rolled up the soft-case bicycle bag, and started biking toward the city.

East Coast Book Tour

East Coast Book Tour

Through a combination of cycling, trains, buses, and car rides, I made it from DC to my hometown of Amherst, giving 10 presentations in under two weeks. It was a great way to share the stories from my journeys; I’m also glad now to be taking some time off!

Below are some of the best pictures from this trip. An album of the best pictures is here on flickr.

East Coast Book Tour

East Coast Book Tour

East Coast Book Tour

East Coast Book Tour

East Coast Book Tour

East Coast Book Tour


 

East Coast Book and Slideshow Tour – March 26th to April 7th

March 11th, 2015 by David

I will be doing a short tour through cities in the Northeast to share stories from this journey and also my book, The Bicycle Diaries, a Shelf Unbound Notable Book of 2014. The slideshow will include the best pictures and videos from 30,000 miles of bicycle touring across three continents and 28 countries — and it will also share the on-the-ground observations of the challenge of climate change. Copies of The Bicycle Diaries will be available for sale.

Click on the links for the location of each event.

Washington DC – Thursday, March 26th, 8:00pm – Bicycle Space (Facebook)
Baltimore – Friday, March 27th, 8:30pm – Red Emma’s Bookstore
Philadelphia – Saturday, March 28th, 6:30pm – Conshohocken REI (Facebook)
Philadelphia – Sunday, March 29th, 2pm – Marlton REI (Facebook)
New York City – Monday, March 30th, 7pm – NYC Velo at Hell’s Kitchen Location (Facebook)
Brooklyn – Tuesday, March 31st, 7pm – Red Lantern Bicycles (Facebook)
New Haven – Wednesday, April 1, 6pm – The Grove (hosted by Elm City Cycling)
Boston – Thursday, April 2, 7pm – Trident Booksellers and Cafe (Facebook)
Amherst, MA – Tuesday, April 7, 7pm – First Congregational Church of Amherst


 

Asia: Crossed

March 4th, 2015 by David

I’m writing this from a plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Two days ago we flew from Yangon to Bangkok and spent 36 hours in the capital of Thailand, where we ate sticky rice, visited temples, and enjoyed a 90-minute massage. Then we flew overnight from Bangkok to Seoul, where we used a 12-hour layover to explore the cleanest and wealthiest city we’ve seen since Hong Kong. Now we are flying to Seattle, where Lindsey’s mother will meet us at the airport.

Myanmar 5 - Yangon

Over the past 10 months we’ve cycled 8,000 miles across Asia, visiting 12 different countries. We started in Istanbul and traveled east until we reached the East China Sea. We then looped southwest before riding east again, passing through South Asia and finishing along the Bay of Bengal and Andaman Sea.

Myanmar 4 - Rakhine State

I’m trying to reflect on this journey and finding it difficult to do so. Asia is so big, so diverse, so much more than I anticipated. It feels impossible to summarize.

This journey was shorter in time and distance than my ride across the Americas, but it was more challenging, largely due to visa requirements, travel restrictions, and changing languages. Because of government rules, we couldn’t bike across Iran (Americans are required to have a guide) or the parts of Tibet that border Nepal and India (independent travel for foreigners is illegal), meaning that the only way to arrive in South Asia by bicycle, overland, and independently, would be to travel through Pakistan—but although that route is possible, large parts of Pakistan are not safe for American tourists on bicycles. So we gave up on trying to pedal every mile and helped connect parts of our route through trains, buses, and (my favorite) hitchhiking. Freed from feeling like we had to bike every mile, we used the extra speed of these non-cycling transit options to explore eastern China before continuing to South Asia (which is why our travel map looks a bit circuitous).

DSC03472

The journey felt more disjointed than my ride across Latin America, partially because of the non-bicycle travel, but largely because each country in Asia was so different from the previous country—and sometimes within-country differences were greater than cross-country differences in the Americas. In Latin America I was able to travel for 16 months speaking Spanish or, in Brazil, a hybrid of Spanish and Portuguese. The countries of the region share a history of colonization by the Catholic Iberian nations of Spain and Portugal, and many have similar challenges and levels of development. They are culturally more similar to each other and the United States than the nations we crossed in Asia are to each other. The Latin America journey was a ride across a landscape with a common history and relatively unified identity.

In Asia, I was mentally unprepared for the diversity of language, religion, culture, and government. We tried to learn bits of Turkish, Russian, and Chinese as we traveled. But it was extremely challenging, and I found it exhausting to have studied so much and learned so little. When we reached South Asia, I had no energy left to learn more languages. In Nepali, Hindi, Bengali, and Myanmar, I learned nothing more than the basic “hello,” “thank you,” and “goodbye” (fortunately, English is relatively common in South Asia, so we were able to get by).

India 1 - Bihar

We were constantly reminded of the ever-present influence of religion in people’s lives. In Turkey, it was the five-times daily call to prayer, the difficulty entailed in purchasing a beer, the pictures of imams on our hosts’ walls, and the very different social norms for men and women than what we experience in the U.S. In Tibet, we witnessed people in endless processions around temples. The holy region’s capital, Lhasa, was filled with Tibetan pilgrims with wrinkled faces and long braids who elbowed their way around us to prostrate themselves before shrines. In Nepal and India, we grappled with and mostly failed to understand the caste system and what it means for some people to be Brahmins and some Shudras. And we learned that we would have to swerve around cows in the street, as they are holy and treated with such reverence that all Indian and Nepalese cattle know they can walk placidly across a road and all traffic will automatically and patiently stop for them. In China, we tried to understand how Confucianism, which is more of a philosophy than a religion, shapes the society, and how “eastern thinking” creates a very different relationship between the individual and society than “western thinking” does (reading this book helped us).

Tibet Autonomous Region

We were especially struck by how women are treated in different societies. Outside the major cities, in Hindu and Muslim regions, we rarely saw women out in the streets. A number of times, Lindsey would point out to me that she was the only woman at a restaurant, or on a crowded street. Reading some recent articles makes me wonder what the men who were staring at us every time we stopped in India were thinking, and makes me glad that we took people’s advice to not be out after dark in Bihar. We loved the hospitality of Muslim culture, and we made many friends who we hope to stay in touch with. But in many places it was the man who invited us in, and then his wife or daughters-in-law (in many places the sons stay and live with their parents and their wives move in) who do the cooking and work—and then sometimes don’t join because it’s not considered appropriate for women to mingle with men outside their immediate family (interestingly, Lindsey was always included with the men, and we joked that people saw her as a third gender: “foreign lady”). It’s hard to feel good about a culture, however hospitable, that prevents women from interacting in public and hides them in the home.

Tajikistan - The Border to Dushanbe

We were also constantly reminded of how corrupt, restrictive, or ineffective governments in many parts of Asia are. It started in our first week in Turkey, when the government—probably the best-functioning democracy we visited—sprayed tear gas to disperse protesters who were complaining that the president had been acting increasingly autocratic. In the former Soviet republics, we encountered states that plastered pictures of their leaders on billboards across the countryside. In most of these countries (with the exception of Georgia), the autocratic leaders from the Soviet era had more or less continued in power. China was the most fascinating. It was both the most effective government and the one that most restricted personal freedoms. We marveled at their new highways and buildings, and how people seemed happy about the recent economic growth, but we were disappointed to see the country’s response to the protests in Hong Kong, where a student movement led a call for greater self-government. It was also sad to travel through Tibet and see colonization in progress. Nepal, India, and Bangladesh had the opposite problem of China: instead of being too strong, the governments in these countries are too weak, and they are unable to provide basic services like electricity, water, and good roads. And in Myanmar, we saw a country that was poor largely because an oppressive military government had nationalized businesses overnight, closed the country to the outside world, and mismanaged almost every aspect of the economy.

China 9 - Beijing

Government restrictions strongly affected the course of our trip. Many border crossings are off limits to ‘third country nationals,’ and we needed to get visas for almost every country well in advance of reaching them. For the ‘stans, we had to specify the time period of our travel and make sure to arrive and depart within the visa period (usually one month). This is particularly difficult when you are traveling by bicycle and aren’t sure how long it will take to get to each country, let alone bike across it. By comparison, in Latin America—a much freer region of the world—I could simply show up at the border of almost every country with my American passport and get a visa-on-arrival good for 90 days.

In Uzbekistan and China, we found that we couldn’t send a hard drive of our pictures home to the U.S. through the mail because the government didn’t allow such data to be freely sent out of the nation. In China, we were reminded daily about the government’s desire to control information because we had to use a VPN to get around the Internet censorship simply to check gmail. In addition, China prohibits independent travel in the Tibet Autonomous Region, which basically meant that we could not reach Nepal and India overland on a bicycle without paying many thousands of dollars for a tourist-approved jeep with driver and guide to literally follow us every day as we cycled across the plateau (which is why we went for a cheaper but still very expensive group tour bus ride to the border with Nepal). When we tried to enter India, we were held up for five hours because the Indian embassy that had issued my visa had printed my passport number incorrectly (they eventually let us through). Finally, in Myanmar, we were told by other travelers that it was illegal to sleep anywhere other than a hotel that was authorized to host foreigners, and because such hotels are relatively infrequent, we more or less had to break the law (we think) to cycle across the country.

Myanmar 4 - Rakhine State

With regard to climate change—the theme of our trip—I end the journey feeling both more and less hopeful than when I began. We interviewed people across the continent, asking them if they think the weather is different now than it was decades ago. We were surprised by how consistent people’s answers were. Whether it was a wheat farmer in Turkey, a yak herder in Tajikistan, or a Tibetan shop owner in Lhasa, people have noticed that the weather is warmer than it was during their childhoods. In South Asia and Myanmar, most people said they noticed changes in the monsoon as well. Climate change is real, and people are noticing.

India 1 - Bihar

That said, a number of observations made me feel more hopeful. Bangladesh, which I’ve heard is going to be largely underwater in a few decades, is preparing for rising sea levels by building their existing seawalls a meter and a half taller, and bracing for increased natural disasters by dotting coastal areas with cyclone shelters. In the long run, large sections of the country will probably in fact be underwater, but the work underway now means that the tens of millions of people will probably be able to avoid flooding from sea level rise for much of this century. More interestingly, we have seen that economic development is making people less likely to be subsistence farmers, and thus less vulnerable to the whims of climate change. In the mountains of Tajikistan, families said that in recent years there has been less snow than usual in the winter, making it harder to grow food because there isn’t enough water in the summer. But they also said that at least one person from every family was working abroad (mostly in Russia), sending money home, and that families could use these remittances to buy food and other goods instead of relying on subsistence farming.

Wakhan Valley

Of course, the climate change that people have witnessed so far is relatively mild compared to what they will likely see in the coming decades. People don’t list the changes in the weather as their biggest concern when we talk to them. But that might change in a few decades, when extreme drought in some places becomes the norm, making some parts of Turkey and Central Asia much drier than they are today, or when sea levels rise by another three feet in Bangladesh.

Bangladesh 4 - Dhaka to Agartala

I am drawn to bike touring across continents because I’m fascinated by our world. Bike touring is a way to take an on-the-ground survey, to ground-truth the satellite images on Google Maps, and to get a gut-sense, a tactile feel, of what it is like for a country to be Muslim or Buddhist, rich or poor, autocratic or democratic. I know so much more now than I did 10 months ago. But what I have learned is dwarfed by what we didn’t learn about the nations we cycled through. When you bike across a country, you don’t see the entire country—you see just a thin sliver, the roads and cities along your path. Most of the country remains unvisited. And that is now how I feel about the continent of Asia. Crossing it has made me realize how little I know.

The Pamirs, Part 1: To Zorkul Nature Reserve

When we think back over our journey, our strongest memory, though, is the same as that of my ride across Latin America: People were incredibly generous everywhere we traveled. Whether it was Bihar India, central Uzbekistan, or Azerbaijan, almost every day we found someone who wanted to help us on our journey across Asia. And what is perhaps most surprising is that I didn’t find this surprising at all. After crossing Latin America, I thought people would be helpful to cyclists everywhere I went. And they were.

Gaziantep to Diyarbakir

We spent much time in Asia thinking about what sets us apart from the people we met—different education, income, religion, views on equality of women. The life of a Tibetan yak herder in Qinghai Province, a rice farmer in southern Bangladesh, or a businessman in Tajikistan’s capital are all vastly different from our lives in the U.S. But while we were noticing the differences, it felt as if the local people were making a counter argument: we are all the same. They saw that we were on bicycles, and that we were sometimes tired, hungry, and uncomfortable. They shared a meal and a roof with us. In Muslim culture, we were told that “guests are gifts.” In Hindu Bihar, we were told by a host that “guests are gods”—which might be extreme, but I also like the idea that hosting another person is a holy act, as it is something that is understood and practiced across the globe. And we feel lucky to have partaken in this act with countless people across the continent.

The Pamirs, Part 1: To Zorkul Nature Reserve


 

Photos from Myanmar

March 3rd, 2015 by David

Below are our best pictures from 35 days of riding in Myanmar. You can also look through our Flickr albums from different parts of the state: three days in Sagaing Region, two weeks on the mountain roads of Chin State, central Myanmar and Bagan, the coast (and more mountains) in Rakhine State, and finally, the country’s largest city, Yangon.


 

Back to India: the Northeast

February 3rd, 2015 by Lindsey

A trip of this length and variety gets integrated strangely into the psyche and memory. Time stretches and contracts—Turkey feels more present sometimes than, say, Nepal, and I wonder if it’s because everything was so fresh and new then. Every event, each new place, person, or experience, warranted a reaction; we talked about it, processed, reflected, wrote. When we realized the other day that there was about the same amount of time remaining in our trip as we had spent in Turkey, we were both alarmed to realize how long that time seemed when we were there—and how it doesn’t seem like much time at all going forward.

Our points of reference for have become other parts of the trip, rather than our lives in the US. When I’m hungry, I’m just as likely to fantasize about Georgian katchapuri as a Mission burrito; the absence of alcohol in Bangladesh reminded us of Turkey; when we couldn’t find Internet, we reflected fondly on China’s ubiquitous Wi-Fi (though we didn’t miss its censorship). One element we find repeating from country to country is being able to predict what people are going to say to you and having fun pre-empting them. In Uzbekistan, we could tell somebody was going to ask us where we were from before they opened their mouth. In Russian, this question is boiled down to one word: “Atkuda?!”, often preceded by a grunt. This question was shouted out at us constantly, everywhere we went, with no greeting or follow-up, expect the occasional, wide-eyed “Ooh, America!” At times, weary of the constant “Uhh! Atkuda?!” I would beat people to the game, turning and yelling “Atkuda?” to them before they had a chance to ask me. This practice, which I called “Atkuda’ing” somebody, always resulted in everybody having a good laugh and distracted me from the weariness that long-term travel can create.

In India, the conversation was a bit longer and often included a photo op, and was played out many times a day with men on motorcycles who would roll up alongside us as we rode along the highways of Bihar, West Bengal, and the more populous parts of the Northeast. One day, in the flat plains of Assam, David “atkuda’ed” a pair on a motorbike, inverting the entire standard bike-touring-in-India conversation. Before the men could ask us questions, David asked, “Where are you from?” “Silchar,” they responded. “Oh, very nice. We liked Silchar. Where are you going?” “What is your name?” The guys answered politely and were put off for a moment, perhaps forgetting that they were the ones with questions, and they rode quietly behind for some time before pulling alongside us again and asking those very same questions back, as we’d anticipated.

India 4 - Assam

Auto-repeat conversations notwithstanding, we’ve enjoyed the Northeast immensely. It doesn’t feel like India—this isn’t to say we didn’t enjoy the “mainland” for its own merits, but I will admit that we’ve found the Northeast to be far more relaxed and comfortable than Bihar or West Bengal. Perhaps most striking is the population density. When we crossed from Bangladesh into Tripura, we immediately felt like we had more space. Agartala, the Indian border town, was laid back and friendly—I walked around by myself after dark for the first time in weeks, and was delighted to notice other women, with families and unaccompanied, out in the streets. Going out alone wasn’t forbidden in Bangladesh, but it was strongly discouraged in Bihar, and I’d just gotten used to not really leaving wherever we were staying after dark. In Agartala, I’d been running errands alone for about half an hour before I realized how novel it was to be out and about without David, especially at nighttime.

After leaving Agartala, we started climbing almost immediately. They were modest hills, around 200 meters, but as we rode higher we noticed in astonishment that we were the only people around—the hills were covered in protected forests and there were no settlements, just the occasional paramilitary camp. I should note that paramilitary is the term for government armed forces outside of the regular army, tasked mainly with domestic issues. In the Northeast, these issues are extremists, or Underground Groups (“UGs”). When we read the Lonely Planet’s section on Manipur, the state that shares a border with Myanmar, we learned that it is “… by far the most dangerous state in the Northeast.” It goes on to say that foreigners are only allowed in the capital city of Imphal, and even then you need a special “Inner Line Permit.” Fortunately we’d consulted more recent sources, which said that you no longer needed this permit. We also asked police and paramilitary we encountered along the way, who all bobbed their heads side to side and said “safe, safe” when we asked about the road ahead. Several people, though, cautioned us to get off the road before dark and to stay in hotels rather than camping. So we took their advice and spent a few nights in hotels of varying quality as we rode from Agartala to Silchar, the last proper town before Imphal, several days away.

India 3 - Tripura

One night we stayed at a guesthouse that advertised “fooding and lodging,” one of many amusing phrases we’ve encountered in India. And at that hotel we indeed felt “fooded” when we sat down in the hotel’s restaurant and within seconds, before we had a chance to order, plates full of rice, dhal, and vegetable curry were plunked under our noses, with a man vigorously wielding a ketchup bottle close behind. Another night, we were woken at 4:14 AM by dueling “music” emanating from nearby temples. Some other people in our modest cement cellblock hotel were also up, and we asked them what was going on. They shrugged. Still half asleep, David asked in distress, “How is this OK???” I consulted the Internet to see if there was a Hindu holiday, but found nothing. Fortunately, David remembered that he had an album on his computer titled “Natural White Noise for Babies: Help Your Baby Sleep Through the Night,” which he’d downloaded when stranded overnight at an airport. We put it on repeat, and, like babies, we slept the rest of the night despite the high-volume performances down the street.

After five relaxed days of riding in Northeast India we reached Jiribam, the town on the Manipur state border. While the police at most other checkpoints had casually waved us through, this one stopped us and directed us inside a small hut on the side of the road. They got out a form, layered it with carbon paper and additional sheets, and filled out all of the details from our passports. We held our breath as they took down David’s information, as there was an error in his visa that had given us problems before. Nonetheless, they completed the paperwork without incident and called in a well-dressed man to stamp and sign our passports. A state stamp! This was new. The man directed us to report to his headquarters in Imphal, the state capital, but despite efforts to clarify I didn’t know if this was mandatory or a mere suggestion. We ended up not registering anywhere in Imphal, and nobody ever asked us about it as we rode to the border with Myanmar, so it must not be required. During the process they served us delicious tea and snacks—some of the best samosas we’ve had—and also called a hotel owner for us. We had heard there were no hotels in Jiribam, so we were relieved when they told us there was one. Well, it turns out there is an entire block of them, so we could have just ridden down the road and taken our pick. However, at 300 rupees (about five dollars) our room was reasonable, and we liked the owner, a young guy who spoke good English and thought our bike trip was crazy, but admirable.

We also asked the police about the road ahead—both about extremists and places to stay. They repeated what we’d heard before: the road was safe during the day, but find somewhere—with security, our hotel owner added—to sleep inside at night. I had looked at Google Maps back in Dhaka and plotted out distances between the towns that showed up on the map. It was 89 km from Jiribam to the first town, then 49 km and 64 km. The road was in bad shape, though, and we were happy to learn that there was a small town called Barak with a paramilitary station about 75 km away. So we made that our target and had a serene day of riding, first up a mostly paved road to the friendly town of Kaimai, then a beautiful 20 km descent, right at the perfect time for riding—an hour before sunset when the air is cool and the light is sublime—sailing downhill through bamboo-covered mountainsides.

India 5 - Manipur

When we got to Barak, we started asking around about a place to sleep. The townspeople immediately directed us to the paramilitaries, who were flustered at our sudden appearance on bicycles, without a word of Hindi between us. They called their commanding officer, who got up from his post-patrol nap and strode down the walkway in a blue Adidas track suit to meet us. He spoke decent, distinctly Indian, English, and invited us up to a little gazebo and asked to see our passports. He asked for our names and phone number, what we needed, where we were going, and whether we wanted tea or coffee. We told him we were on our way to Imphal, and he startled us by saying “That will not be feasible.” Soon, though, we understood that he was telling us we couldn’t go on that night. We agreed and told him that was why we had stopped in front of his station—we needed a safe place to sleep, and wanted to know if we could pitch our tent in their camp for the night. Of course, we could not camp, he said, and he wasn’t allowed to let outsiders stay there, but fortunately none of his superiors were on site, so he would gladly make an exception and host us. And host us he did—we had a delicious dinner, with chicken curry made just for us (he is Hindu, and a strict vegetarian), rice, dhal, and chapati. He brought out a bottle of whiskey and turned on the TV. We watched Bill Bilichek’s Deflate Gate press conference, and then Schwarzenneger’s “The Last Stand.” Or, rather, David stared blandly at the television, distraught over the Patriots’ scandal, while I told our host everything he wanted to know about the US. He asked whether we had anything like the caste system—social classes based on race, location, or income—and I was so excited to be straying from the usual “Where are you from? Where are you going?” conversation that I talked his ear off about how America is based on all these great ideals regarding equality, but that there are still huge problems around race, class, and inequality. It’s probably not what he was expecting. I also tried to use this opening to ask questions about caste, but it is still a big mystery to us.

India 5 - Manipur

We spent the next night in great luxury—we arrived at a small village near sunset, and after we found somebody who spoke English, we were directed to a nearby Catholic Church. We rode down a steep driveway past some friendly teenage boys playing soccer, and when we got to the church’s porch, a young man welcomed us and went to get “Father.” Father William appeared, beaming, and introduced himself. We explained our situation and he immediately led us upstairs and showed us to a room with two beds and a bathroom. It felt as if he was expecting us; the church has a few guest rooms for visitors, and we had one of our most enjoyable and comfortable nights in India. We had dinner together after Father William said grace—we felt lucky to receive a blessing from a priest, especially when he asked for a safe journey for us—and we peppered him with questions about Catholicism in India and the history and present status of the Northeast.

The conversation was greatly enriched by the fact that he speaks perfect English (as well as four other languages) and did his PhD on the socio-economic history of his tribe, the Mao Naga. It was another one of those surreal moments—who would have thought that we would stumble upon a penta-lingual Catholic priest historian in the middle of Manipur, a place we’d only heard of a few months before as we charted our route, described only as “green, mountainous, and dangerous.” Father William runs a school for children in his parish, which helps explain why so many of the young people in the area speak such good English (often they shyly say no if you ask whether they speak English, but proceed to answer all your questions clearly). It was fascinating for us to talk with this man who is so committed both to his Western-origin religion and to the preservation of his Naga culture. I read the last chapter of his dissertation, which helps explain how the two aren’t necessarily at odds; it speaks of eco-spirituality, invoking Christian principles to preserve the land, and also discusses how Christianity needs to adapt to the local context, both to bring people over to the faith, and to become more relevant and serve them better.

India 5 - Manipur

He never asked our religion; we both grew up in nominally Christian families, but are no longer practicing and if asked for one word to describe our religion, would probably say “agnostic.” Nonetheless, after nearly nine months in Muslim, Buddhist, and Hindu countries—with the exception of Georgia—it felt good to be among Christians, something I never thought I would say as I don’t really identify with the faith. He showed us into his church, and while I feel and appreciate the beauty and holiness of mosques, temples, and stupas, there was something comforting in the familiarity of this church—the modest wooden benches, high ceiling, and alter, covered in traditional cloth but adorned with symbols I recognize from my long-ago church-attending days.

The next day, we gave ourselves a nice, slow morning, since we were ahead of schedule to arrive in Imphal—a rare occurrence that we savored. There was more climbing, but the road was in excellent condition and we made decent time. Still, we were 30 km short of Imphal around 4:00, the time we needed to start looking for a place to sleep. We stopped in a small village where a young man at a store told us the area was safe and that we could stay in the village that night if we needed. We then encountered an older man who said there wasn’t anywhere to stay in the village, but that there was a military post two km down the road. We proceeded to the military post, but it wasn’t very welcoming, set on a barren hillside behind rows of barbed wire with stern-faced soldiers at the gate. So, we did something we almost never do—we turned around.

As we approached the village for the second time, we stopped to greet a man and woman walking up the road. “Welcome,” said the woman, extending her hand. When we asked about a place to sleep, she pointed down the road and said there was a guesthouse. We walked back into the village together, where we again met the older man, who raised an eyebrow and asked why we hadn’t stayed at the military post, as there really wasn’t anywhere for us in the village. Normally this would have made me uncomfortable—I hate forcing myself on people, demanding hospitality, but there was something so relaxed about the place, the music wafting out of one of the houses, the welcome we’d received from everybody else. So we just smiled and let our new friend talk to him, and within a few minutes he’d disappeared, then reappeared with a set of keys.

He unlocked a room next to the market, and voila—two wooden beds, room for the bikes, the perfect home for the night. We spent the rest of the evening with our new friend and her daughter Tracy, who visited us, along with all her friends, before and after bible study. We’d landed in a Kuki village. As we learned later, most of the villages at the tops of the mountains in Manipur are Kuki, and they are Baptists. Tracy and her friends watched us cook and eat our noodles; they showed us their bibles, written in Kuki, and one of her friends shared that his dream was to preach the gospel. He asked us our favorite bible verse and I think our poor Christian credentials showed when we couldn’t answer. It was a lovely little town of about 190 people, with adults and children drifting in and out all evening. The next morning, our nominal host knocked on our door at 6:00 to say goodbye before boarding an auto-rickshaw to attend a meeting. Later, after another meal-with-audience, we bid our friends farewell and rode the rest of the way to Imphal.

India 5 - Manipur

In Imphal, we were hosted by the members of Pedal Attack, a local cycling group that hosts travelers through WarmShowers. David interviewed a few members, and you can learn more about their group here (https://www.facebook.com/Pedal.Attack). They took us all around, showing us Loktak Lake, the War Cemetery, and a local Hindu Temple.

After three days, we left Imphal for the final push to the border. We got a late start after changing money (we needed dollars for Myanmar, as well as rupees, which we’d heard you could change at the border), going grocery shopping, and getting a few bike parts from our friend’s store. We rode 50 km on the perfectly flat plain that surrounds Imphal, and then started climbing. At 4:15 and 1200 meters in elevation we found ourselves in another Kuki village. We asked some teenage girls at the local shop about a place to stay, and before we knew it we were sipping tea with them. They put us up in the shop owner’s house, and we made dinner as they looked on—they told us they only eat twice a day, at 8:30 in the morning and 4:30 in the afternoon, and that they weren’t hungry. Still, we felt a little strange eating in front of them, but they were busy texting friends and listening to music—we discussed Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus and played music for each other on our smartphones. Afterwards, we shared some chocolate with them and went to bed.

India 5 - Manipur

Kuki people get up early, and so did we, but with all the farewells we didn’t get on the road until almost 7:00. We were further slowed by the many checkpoints as we approached the border with Myanmar. At several points we were required to dismount and hand over our passports. Data was entered, supervisors called, and then we were waved through. At the last point, we were subjected to a lengthy interview by one “Major Rocky”. We concluded that he must be terribly bored—in addition to our passport details, he asked—and recorded—every country we’d visited, interjecting his own commentary and asking extra questions. How did we like Indian food? Did we like Obama? So did he, but until recently Putin was the bigger man. What is our profession? Ah, environment! There are other ways to save the environment, in addition to cycling, no?. We met another traveler later who had a similar experience, though he was also treated to the Major’s entire regiment parading and saluting. We felt a little cheated.

In the border town of Moreh, we printed out our permit to cross the border, which had arrived in an email earlier that day. We had lunch, then crossed our fingers and cycled to the final checkpoint. Actually, it wasn’t that straightforward. First we were accosted by a man with a thermometer who insisted he needed to take our temperature to make sure we didn’t have Ebola (we didn’t). Then we had our passports inspected by another military official at the “land customs office,” and then we nearly missed the large white building by the side of the road, where upon our arrival a surprised-looking man, neatly dressed in a button-down shirt, rustled up some stamps and ink (he had to fetch a backpack from another room) and stamped us out of India, taking no notice of the extra “2” in the passport number of David’s visa. In another room we filled out a customs form, and then biked the remaining kilometer through no-mans-land to the bridge that would take us to Myanmar.

India 5 - Manipur


 

Photos from Northeast India

February 1st, 2015 by David

After leaving Bangladesh, we cycled through three of Northeast India’s states. Below are the best pictures from this two weeks of travel. You can also look through more pictures in the Flickr albums of each state with these links: Tripura, Assam, and Manipur.


 

In Northeast India… and Behind on Blogging

January 25th, 2015 by Lindsey

I’m writing this from Imphal, a city in the far northeast of India. We are a bit behind updating this blog — in the past month we’ve crossed Bangladesh and five states in India, where we have had very limited Internet connections. We have many photos to upload and drafts of several blog entries, but it will be a bit longer before we can post them — check this site in a few weeks to see what we’ve been up to.

In the meantime, you can see (some) pictures on our Flickr page, or see updates on Twitter or Facebook. We are also regularly uploading our rides to Strava — you can follow us there for details about each day’s ride.

We are nearing the end of our journey, and our minds are turning towards getting home. We have tickets to fly out of Yangon, Myanmar on the 2nd of March, meaning we have only a bit more than one month of travel left!


 

Bangladesh – Photos

January 19th, 2015 by David

Below are our favorite photos from a few weeks in Bangladesh. You can also see more photos on our four flickr albums of cycling the country, The Delta, Boat Journey to Dhaka, Dhaka, and Dhaka to Agartala.


 

Dhaka

January 18th, 2015 by Lindsey

We rushed from the Sundarbans to Dhaka in order to attend the Gobeshona Climate Change Conference. This conference, organized by the International Centre for Climate Change and Development (ICCCAD) and held at the Independent University of Bangladesh, gathered people from all over the world doing research on climate change in Bangladesh.

Bangladesh 2 - Boat Journey to Dhaka

Due to mechanical trouble (one of the boat’s three engines failed), we arrived later than intended, but we still managed to attend a number of sessions, not to mention meeting and interviewing some of Bangladesh’s major climate change researchers. The conference website has most of the presentations available, so rather than going through details I’ll provide my takeaways here.

It was encouraging to see so many good minds addressing Bangladesh’s vulnerability to climate change. When we were visiting communities near the Sundarbans, it was obvious that the people living there face an array of problems, some of which are related to climate change. For example, people talked about how their usual sources of drinking water—the river and wells in their village—had become too salty or polluted to use. When crossing the Delta, we also heard about how farming had become more difficult in the aftermath of frequent cyclones, including the recent Cyclone Aila. At the conference in Dhaka, we heard from researchers working on salt-tolerant rice and studying the various factors that cause salinity increases in people’s water supply.

Bangladesh 3 - Dhaka

One of the conference’s themes was about integrating climate change adaptation into the general planning process. Before this journey, I worked for several years for the State of California, and learned that even in a developed economy like California, our approach to building and maintaining infrastructure is fractured and inconsistent. I can only imagine the challenges in Bangladesh, where a severely under-sourced government has its hands full just trying to keep its people from starving and constantly trying to recover from a seemingly endless wave of natural disasters. The government of Bangladesh, like many national governments, thinks in terms of five-year plans, while planning for climate change requires a much longer view. People at the conference seemed to think that while progress is slow, there is potential and interest within the government for integrating climate change considerations into their planning process.

We also heard, in casual conversation, about roadblocks to progress. For example, Bangladesh has two major funding sources to help adapt to climate change: the Bangladesh Climate Trust Fund, an internally financed fund administered by the central government, and the Bangladesh Climate Change Resilience Fund, which is funded by foreign donors. Both funds support projects under the framework of the Bangladesh Climate Change Strategy and Action Plan, which is housed in the Ministry of Environment and Forests. While it is encouraging that a Plan and finance mechanisms exist, we learned that implementation is slow—the government, apparently, has not yet put in place sufficient institutional controls to manage funds from outside donors, so some donations have not been transferred to the Fund. In addition, where money is flowing, corruption prevents some of it from making it to its intended project. Cyclone shelters, for example, might be built with only a percentage of the budget allocated them, because corrupt officials along the way pocket sizable chunks of the funds before construction even begins.

Bengladesh 1 - The Delta

In the week before arriving in Dhaka, we saw embankments and levees protecting settlements and fields, and at the conference we learned that the government has been setting aside funds to increase their height. I am skeptical about solutions that rely exclusively on building one’s way out of a problem as serious as flooding, especially when the solution—in this case, raising the embankments that were built to ‘reclaim’ land in the Delta—is actually part of the problem. We learned that the embankments, built in the 1960s to enable people to live and farm in an area that otherwise would flood regularly, also prevent sediment carried by the rivers from spreading out across the land. This has resulted in one to one-and-a-half meters of subsidence compared to the nearby protected area that is not enclosed with embankments. The resulting lower elevation of the land increases its vulnerability to sea level rise and natural disasters.

Both of us have studied climate change literature, and from our reading we gained a wholly dismal picture of Bangladesh, with some articles basically saying that tens of millions of people will lose their homes in the next few decades due to rising sea levels and storms. Bangladesh is the poster child for climate change, especially sea level rise, and it’s no joke. Bicycling across a country is a visceral way to get a feel for its flatness. People already have water problems, for drinking and for irrigation, and whether salinity is increasing due to sea level rise, shrimp farming, groundwater pumping, the Farakka Barrage, or the silting up of the rivers (or all of the above), rising sea level is only going to make it worse.

Bengladesh 1 - The Delta

Moreover, many people along Bangladesh’s coast (and elsewhere in the country) are poor, meaning they’re unlikely to have other options if they can’t grow crops, or that they won’t be able to rebuild if their homes, crops, or livestock are destroyed in a cyclone. So climate change adaptation, or resilience, is about more than seawalls and wells; it’s about basic economic development, and there are some bright spots there. Despite GDP per capita being lower than India’s, Bangladesh scores higher on most human development indicators—they have far better access to basic sanitation, for example, something we again experienced viscerally (in Bihar we saw countless men literally pooping along the road, while in Bangladesh we saw comparatively sparkling bathrooms in people’s homes and roadside restaurants); literacy rates are higher among both men and women, infant mortality is lower, and most people we talked to said that the economy is growing, that life is getting better.

Bangladesh 2 - Boat Journey to Dhaka

And, after biking across the country, visiting the Sundarbans and the Bay of Bengal, and meeting many of the country’s climate change experts, we actually feel dimly hopeful. People, while poor in many of the communities we visited, seem resilient; the government is starting to pay attention to climate change; and the international community is concerned and engaged. While big infrastructure may often only be a Band-Aid, the country’s plans to raise embankments, build cyclone shelters, develop salt-tolerant crops, and promote alternative livelihoods, among other initiatives, could enable people to stay where they are for awhile—to send their children to school, to learn skills that will allow them to thrive elsewhere, and to become better prepared for what is to come.