Posts tagged “hike

Delicious Food, Monks, and a Racist Bar Proprietor

Penang KekLokSi

Kek Lok Si Temple from the street leading up to it.

I’ve just eaten some very tasty vegetarian Chinese buffet (that I would return to more than once while in Georgetown), and I’m walking around aimlessly. A couple of trishaw (bike taxi) drivers are seated on the sidewalk playing checkers with beer bottle caps. On the building across the street is a large mural of a trishaw driver lounging in his carriage, waiting for his next costumer.

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Mud, Tea, and Selfies

CH hike

Almost to the top of Gunang (Mount) Brinchang. This is the best view I got. It’s not so bad.

The temperature in KL is already miserable by the time we leave at 8 in the morning. As we ascend through the lush hills, the outside temperature starts to resemble the air-conditioned tundra that is common in these types of buses. The mountains are covered in greenery and fog. When we step off the bus in Tanah Rata, it is refreshingly un-miserable.

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Cows That Hike, Bikes that Don’t Work

Ometepe_PuntaJesusMaria

The bike is making strange squeaking sounds and it is becoming abundantly clear that I never learn. I have never had a good bicycle rental experience. Yet, when I arrive on Ometepe Island in the early afternoon, I rent a piece of crap from my hostel to go cruising. At first, everything seems fine and I’m enjoying myself, riding the paved road that is mostly devoid of cars. The occasional motorcycle passes or a horse-drawn cart lumbers along.

Moyogalpa, the largest town on Ometepe Island in Lake Nicaragua, means in the local language something like ‘place of mosquitoes’. Sometimes, I think, I must really hate myself.

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It’s Just Livin’ in Leon

Granada1A motorcycle passes me by as I walk to my accommodations. The woman on the back passenger seat daintily holds a cake with one hand, like a server carrying a tray of drinks.

Earlier, in my taxi to the center of town, we maneuver through the outskirts. Bicycle taxies roam the streets, juice vendors squeeze refreshments, the ubiquitous motorcycle zooms by, horse-drawn carts carry goods too burdensome for man. From the calm of the periphery, we pass through the crowded shop-lined streets. The market is bustling. Speakers blare dance rhythms, vendors lure in costumers. Taxies, pedestrians, motorcycles, bikes, horse carts: mingle in the streets.

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Acatenango: The Third Highest Peak in Central America

summitting at dawn

We have doubts and we haven’t even stopped for lunch—the halfway point. Our packs are heavy, with 5 liters of water, clothes, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, tents, cooking supplies. The first hour of the hike up Acatenango Volcano was straight up. It isn’t much better now.

We stop for lunch at our halfway point and everyone throws off their backpacks and collapses on the ground. The lunch that is provided for me is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. There was cheese and spinach and bread, and whatever.

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