Life is good.

I've only been here a few hours now, but already I've found myself in a custody battle between two pensionnes in the same building, each claiming to be the Dahab Hotel. One of them is actually correct, but that is no matter, as the other is convinced that it is in fact a new addition to the real place. Good for bargaining though. I've got AC and a balcony for five bucks a night.

So I'm eating my Shawarma in the lobby, talking to the manager (who now claims that he used to manage the real Dahab and thus the misunderstanding) and his "brother", and it turns out that there is a big wedding party tomorrow night and they need a huge favor, as the only place in town where you can get imported liquor is the duty free shop at the Sheraton. Of course they're lying, but I've been lied to all day and I'm used to it. And besides, what could possibly go wrong?

As a newly arrived visitor, my passport is a valuable thing. It contains a dated stamp that entitles me to bring 3 liters of alcohol and 3 cartons of cigarettes into the country. I'm finally getting to repay karma for mooching off upperclassmen for all those beer runs back at school. I'm expecting to be handed some cash and a list, then be inserted quietly into the lobby and return a hero, but no. It's easier than that. All I gotta do is hang out while our brother goes shopping, then produce my passport at the proper moment. Kind of a let down.

Anyway, my services netted me a couple warm cans of beer to enjoy on the rooftop deck of the hotel. So much sweeter because of how they were earned. I woulda done it just for the story.

These last few days, I've been soaking up the antiquities and trying to breach security at the US embassy so that I can get some more pages added to my passport. I've completely filled the thing. I win! Unfortunately, they're on double-secret terror alert here, so there's 200 troops outside the embassy and the streets are blocked off for a half dozen blocks in all directions. This is my second day of effort, I almost made it to the front door this time. I've got a good feeling about tomorrow.

Farafra, Egypt. Aptly named, and about the second most remote place in the whole country. There's a little village, a couple springs, and a bit of irrigation to expand the stand of date palms surrounding it all. Apart from that, it's just sand as far as the eye can see, Lawrence of Arabia style. I blew a day there, hired a jeep to take me out into the desert to catch the sunset, then made my way to a hotspring in the middle of nowhere to relax and check out the stars. Yeah, this will do...

Next up was Luxor and Aswan for a bit of Tomb Raiding. Wow. Nothing I can say would do the place justice. If you've been there, you'll know. If not, you need to go before you die. Now is a great time to be in Egypt. With the combination of the off-season, the US government recommending its citizens to panic, and the resulting weak Egyptian Pound, it's like a fire sale over here. You can rent a camel for $0.50 an hour!

I'm on the Sinai now, chillin' on the beach at Dahab, looking to do some diving, and maybe give some attention to my recently neglected suntan. My room costs $1.50 a night. I should be able to hold out about six years...

I'm doing my rescue diver course at the moment. Underwater Combat would be a better title for this thing. For two days now, I've been trying to subdue panicked divers at the surface and below, while my mask is being pulled from my face, my regulator is being ripped from my mouth, and I'm being kicked and beaten about the head and neck by the thrashing scuba tank of my 250 pound instructor. Even when we're doing basic things like taking our gear off and on at the bottom, this guy will come up and turn your air off to see what you do. Too much fun!

One more day of this and I should be certified. After a bit of celebrating, I think I'll hop the ferry into Jordan. This place is great, but there's only so much relaxing a fella can do before it's time to move on.

Petra was just plain amazing. What a great idea! Giant buildings carved right out of the rock. Why didn't anybody else think of this? The place is still inhabited by the descendants of the people that have lived there since the day, but now they've got souvenier stands. It's great, you get your own little Bedoin kid following you around trying to sell you rocks. Already got some, kid. The place is made of rock. Want one out of my shoe?

I may spend a day down at the Dead Sea, then it's off into Syria and certain death. Wish me luck!

I think I'm going to give Lebanon a miss. Too bad, since it probably would have been cool, but it's just so expensive to get there and back, since you have to buy a new Syrian visa to return. And really, Beirut is all about the nightclubs, and I'm not much for hitting them by myself. My hotel in Damascus is really nice, and where just about all the backpackers stay. Unfortunately, at the moment it is devoid of "lets go party in Beirut" hooligans to make the trip worthwhile.

I'm being shown around by a couple Turkish girls now, and try as I might, I just couldn't convey to them the concept of Independance day. Turkey has changed hands so manytimes, and this last time it went in 4 stages, so the idea of a single day of liberation doesn't quite fly with them. They'd have a dozen days spread out over the year.

I'm on the beach at Olympos now, enjoying life in mediterrainean paradise. There's not much to do here, but that's not really the point. After a couple more days of this, I'm going to take a 4-day sailing trip along the coast to Oludinez & Fethiye.

Just got off the boat from Olympos. 4 days of chilling in the sun, swimming in the Med., and sleeping on the deck of a beat up old yacht.

Ten passengers and a cheap price mean that they end up cutting corners in a lot of areas. The food was not particularly exciting, and they kept lopping off chunks of the itinerary. Twice a day, somebody would have the brochure out, reading about whatever secluded cove we were supposed to stop at but were at the moment sailing past. Lucky for me I had never read that brochure. No expectations = No disappointment.

But yeah, the ride was cool. Nothing to do but sip cold beers, work on the suntan, and maybe jump into the sea from time to time to cool off. Evidently, we cruised past some nice beaches and awe-inspiring ruins, but really I was too busy chilling to pay any attention.

Istanbul is a great city. There's historic scenery everywhere, and shady parks as well. There is a Jazz festival going on, so a couple of us headed across town last night to catch this amazing quartet in an outdoor amphitheater.

In between the 6 and 12 hour bus rides to get here from Fethiye, I spent a day at Ephesus checking out yet more spectacular ruins. I was amazed at how many people were there. Thousands. I have no idea where they dug all these people up. Maybe everybody who was planning to go to Egypt came to Turkey instead.

Jason is in Fontainebleau. Find it on a map just south of Paris.

I caught a flight from Istanbul to Berlin so that I could see a friend living in Hamburg before she returned to Vancouver. Now I'm doing a bit of climbing before I head back to Germany and pick up Mike Garner, who has a week off soon.

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Looks like the Trans-Siberian thing will not happen after all. After several hours battling the russian consolate in Berlin, it is now clear that they do not issue visas except to residents of the country in which the embassy is located. In other words, If I want a visa, I have to go through an embassy in the US. This leaves a number of options. I can:

1. Fly back to the states and endure the beaurocracy in person.

2. Mail my passport to the Russian embassy in New York. And hope that they eventually mail it back.

3. Set fire to my passport.

4. Show up in St. Petersburg and try to talk my way through immigration.

5. Sneak into Russia via the secret tunnels that the british built during the cold war.

Option 1 is workable but expensive. Options 2 and 3 are roughly equivilant and not particularly helpful. 4 and 5 are good ways to end up imprisoned as a spy. Which leaves me where I am. Option 6, cut the losses and book a flight to Thailand.

Mai bpen rai! Rocks it is.

I'm back in Bangkok, my old stompin' grounds. Couldn't be happier. After a month of wearing out my welcome on couches across western europe, I needed another squalor fix. Next up is language school. Either here, up north in Chiang Mai, or down in Krabi. I'll worry about which tomorrow. I think this time around I need to get off the map, and you can't do that speaking English.

It remains all good.

In short, it looks like I'm back on the project. Good thing too, as the rock here in Chiang Mai is pretty nice. It's a mix of every type of Limestone you can think of, from Rifle blocks and Ceuse crimpers, to wacky Thailand stalactites and caves. I think I'll like it here.

But what is this about an injury, you ask? This happened all the way back in South Africa, on a junky roof problem, where I took myself out in full WWF glory when a hold broke. Think back to 1987, and I'm Macho Man Randy Savage off the top rope with his signature elbow drop. Except that instead of Hacksaw Jim Duggan, the contender for the Intercontinental Championship is the low, flat rock that I had sat on while shoeing up. It was three months before I could pick up my pack with that arm again. Now it can catch my body weight.

Anyway, I may end up back in the states soon. I'll keep y'all posted!

* 7a ==> 5.11d

Why would he do such a thing? Three reasons. First, it's bank. 10 weeks of this and I'll be back on the road for another year. Second, it's with the same firm as the contract I did before I left, so my resume will have a nice continuous entry: 2/2003 - 12/2003, PCNAlert.com. Third, and probably biggest, I miss thinking. Not that hitching across Malawi doesn't require some problem solving ability, but lately my brain is feeling distinctly underutilized. Time to come home for a while.

I took the thing out of town today, up this mountain with a temple on top and a great view of the city. As I'm leaving town, the black clouds of doom started to roll in, but no worries. Yeah, it's the heart of the rainy season and it's been dumping something fierce all week, but today has been nice and sunny. How bad can it be?

Cut to the scene with the guy running flat out down the twisty mountain road through a tropical monsoon in shorts and a T-shirt. Turns out that I rode off into the teeth of the nastiest storm to hit Chiang Mai all year. By the time I made it to town, the flood-control channels were level with the streets. At stoplights, I'd put my foot down into ankle deep water, then pass traffic in the deep end, with water running over the footpegs. In short, an enjoyable ride.

I'm on the countdown to home now. 5 more days and I'm on a plane. Not a bad half year, all things considered.