Although it's nowhere near definite or specific, I have a nomination from the Peace Corps. Assuming that I do my part with the legal and medical paperwork, I should be going to "South or Central America" sometime during "February 2012" for "Primary Education/Teacher Training." All of that information is subject to change drastically, but even "we've narrowed it down to a month and a hemisphere" is progress.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Russia Was Nothing Compared to This
In all of my traveling, I have never had to bother with visa applications. Thanks to my blessed blue American passport, Japan, Taiwan, and Bangladesh have all let me in without a second glance. Now it seems it is time to pay my dues. The greatest challenge to overcome in the execution of this trip is not the planning or even the financing; it's the paperwork. I had a taste of this bureaucratic madness when I attempted Vladivostok in February. You know, when I had to apply for an invitation to apply for a visa?
Everything before Turkey and after Australia is a freebie on account of my citizenship, but that whole middle zone wants a full visa application. This means during the final months here in Seoul at least 10 embassy runs. While many of these have proven annoying (like only being open 4 days a week or only for 2 hours in the afternoon), nothing holds a candle to getting into Saudi Arabia. Here's the break down so far:
The Plan:
My route has me going through the middle east and then on to India, but this is hindered greatly by the fact that seemingly everything between Algeria and Mumbai is either in civil war or hates Americans. Even the waters are unsafe due to dysfunctional Somalia and somewhat less than vigilant Yemen. Now with Syria falling apart and Obama screwing my chances in Pakistan, the noose is tightening. If I can't make it through Saudi to the UAE, I have no choice but to scrap it and reroute through the Trans-Siberian Railroad. I've been trying hard for a week to discover if that Plan B is necessary or if I can lock down a visa to the Kingdom.
Click to view Middle East North Africa in a larger map
The Process:
The visa seemed next to impossible to get, but I have an in. My good coworker E was born and raised in Saudi for 21 years, and knows several people still inside the country. The necessary invitation for a travel visa seems plausible, so I started hitting embassies.
Everything before Turkey and after Australia is a freebie on account of my citizenship, but that whole middle zone wants a full visa application. This means during the final months here in Seoul at least 10 embassy runs. While many of these have proven annoying (like only being open 4 days a week or only for 2 hours in the afternoon), nothing holds a candle to getting into Saudi Arabia. Here's the break down so far:
The Plan:
My route has me going through the middle east and then on to India, but this is hindered greatly by the fact that seemingly everything between Algeria and Mumbai is either in civil war or hates Americans. Even the waters are unsafe due to dysfunctional Somalia and somewhat less than vigilant Yemen. Now with Syria falling apart and Obama screwing my chances in Pakistan, the noose is tightening. If I can't make it through Saudi to the UAE, I have no choice but to scrap it and reroute through the Trans-Siberian Railroad. I've been trying hard for a week to discover if that Plan B is necessary or if I can lock down a visa to the Kingdom.
Click to view Middle East North Africa in a larger map
The Process:
The visa seemed next to impossible to get, but I have an in. My good coworker E was born and raised in Saudi for 21 years, and knows several people still inside the country. The necessary invitation for a travel visa seems plausible, so I started hitting embassies.
- I went out to the location that was throughout maps and the internet indicated as "the Embassy to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia." It seems they've moved locations over a year ago and this building is a husk. Also, visiting hours are exclusively during the hours when I'm working. After some finagling I manage to secure the new address as well as permission to come in the morning.
- The next day, I approach a lady at the counter of the KSA embassy. She looks at me as if I were insane, then tells me I have to wait for the consular to come in. You see, they're not sure whether I even need a travel visa (which they don't do anyway) or simply a transit one. Don't ask me why the consular is not in the consulate nor ever once showed in an hour and a half. In the end I had little choice but to leave my number and a copy of the map.
- The KSA secretary calls me back with the information that, while the embassy in Seoul could not grant me the visa I required, I could get the necessary transit visa from the consulate in Amman, Jordan. My fear is that this is not true. What if I arrived in Jordan to find a dead-end, no re-entry permit for Egypt and therefore no hope of backtracking, and a wasted booking on a freighter from Dubai?
- By now it is Friday, and though I attempt to fact check with the Saudi consulate in Amman, I have forgotten that Friday is the Muslim Sunday. Of course there is no one there. Instead I call the D.C. one, but then realize that the time zone math I had done isn't applicable to both Jordan and Virginia...
- When I finally contact D.C., they tell me that a visa is not even on my list of concerns: I will not be allowed to take this bus because I am not a middle eastern national. I know for a fact that this isn't true, as it was recommended to me by an American. However, now I have to confirm that it's still available for whities.
- In the meantime, E sets Plan A.2 in motion, which involves one of her friends applying to sponsor my transit through the KSA. I spend some serious time researching the TSR from Moscow to Beijing, as Saudi is looking more and more unlikely.
- This morning, just as I'm warming up to thoughts of Siberia, Raed Haddad of the Jordan Express Tourist Transport Company, or JETT, writes me a very cordial email informing me that riding the bus will absolutely be "no problem at all" and that I should specifically acquire a land transit visa. All this to be back where I was before calling D.C. Can I get the visa here in Seoul, by mail to D.C., on the ground in Amman, or not at all?
Buddha's Birthday
Every year on the first full moon of the fourth month in the lunar calendar, millions of people gather at temples all over Asia to celebrate Buddha's Birthday. Preparations start several days in advance, with strings of lanterns popping up all over the city. When the day finally came this year, it was a rainy Tuesday here in Seoul. The dreariness didn't stop the festivities though. I myself hiked up to my favorite local temple. The street vendors were out in full force, which always adds a bit of energy to the atmosphere even in a drizzle. Ajumas were serving up a free lunch of mixed mountain veggie bibimbab. My favorite part of the day is musical chanting of the monks, which I can hear from my window in the morning. I was able to record a sample of it.
While wandering around the vendor tents outside the temple gates, perusing the prayer candles and wooden kitchen utensils, I heard a racket. Coming from around the corner, the approaching cacophony was soon recognizable as a parade. Expecting a surfeit of men with ribbon-dancing hats, I was astonished when a barrage of 20 ajumas came barreling around the corner, skipping and drumming with big toothy smiles. Standing slack jawed at the sight of such energetic women, most of whom certainly had grandchildren, I almost became roadkill when the herd took a sharp right and stampeded right through me and into the courtyard of a house in front of which I had been standing. I followed them into the courtyard and watched with a grin as the ajumas jumped, drummed, and swayed back and forth as if they were reenacting a native american rain dance. They soon skipped on as merrily and suddenly as they had come, and when they did I followed them. This is a video of the very same troupe raising hell at their next stop, a tent full of diners.
After the scene had passed, I met up with some friends to see what was left of the weekend's lantern festival in the popular stream that cuts through the heart of the downtown area called CheonGye Cheon. The second musical surprise of the day was discovered underneath one of the bridges that pass over the stream. A seemingly impromptu rave was taking place in an small alcove, complete with boombox and the Japanese equivalent to Gatorade. Though those 10 or 12 friends weren't very impressive dancers, they did seem to be having a fair amount of fun. The most amusing part of it was the elderly couple who weren't completely undisturbed by the hooligans with their loud music. After we'd watched our fill and finished our stroll, it was time to spend the rest of our day off enjoying a microbrew and pleasant company at local pub The Table.
While wandering around the vendor tents outside the temple gates, perusing the prayer candles and wooden kitchen utensils, I heard a racket. Coming from around the corner, the approaching cacophony was soon recognizable as a parade. Expecting a surfeit of men with ribbon-dancing hats, I was astonished when a barrage of 20 ajumas came barreling around the corner, skipping and drumming with big toothy smiles. Standing slack jawed at the sight of such energetic women, most of whom certainly had grandchildren, I almost became roadkill when the herd took a sharp right and stampeded right through me and into the courtyard of a house in front of which I had been standing. I followed them into the courtyard and watched with a grin as the ajumas jumped, drummed, and swayed back and forth as if they were reenacting a native american rain dance. They soon skipped on as merrily and suddenly as they had come, and when they did I followed them. This is a video of the very same troupe raising hell at their next stop, a tent full of diners.
After the scene had passed, I met up with some friends to see what was left of the weekend's lantern festival in the popular stream that cuts through the heart of the downtown area called CheonGye Cheon. The second musical surprise of the day was discovered underneath one of the bridges that pass over the stream. A seemingly impromptu rave was taking place in an small alcove, complete with boombox and the Japanese equivalent to Gatorade. Though those 10 or 12 friends weren't very impressive dancers, they did seem to be having a fair amount of fun. The most amusing part of it was the elderly couple who weren't completely undisturbed by the hooligans with their loud music. After we'd watched our fill and finished our stroll, it was time to spend the rest of our day off enjoying a microbrew and pleasant company at local pub The Table.
 |  |  |  |
 |  |  |  |
 |  |  |  |
 |  |  |
Monday, May 09, 2011
The First Leg
One of the defining aspects of my trip will be that I remain on the surface of the Earth constantly. As this rules out airplanes, it makes ocean crossing one of the bigger logistic hurdles to jump. Until they build a bridge across the Atlantic or a tunnel under the Pacific, this means boating the oceans of the world. Of course, it isn't as easy as it was in Columbus' century. Boats, though still quite common for transporting goods, are not so accessible to passengers as they once were. This is where a community of travelers and a butt load of research have come in handy.
For reliable and affordable* crossing of the big blue wet thing, I will be depending predominantly on cargo freighters. How is this possible? Since the mechanization of most physical labor, the personnel required for the loading and crewing of freighters has been significantly reduced. That means open cabins, which were wasted space until someone had the bright idea to hock them to travelers as a rugged cruise alternative.
Freighter travel is no walk in the park. I've had to jump through several bureaucratic hoops, including some very specific travel insurance requirements and a rubber stamp of approval from a doctor. The latter is to safeguard against the infirm boarding boats, since all cabins are up 3 or more flights of stairs and there is no physician on board. If you are not infirm of body, the greater challenge seems to be a weakening of the soul. With little to do for more than a week and few if any people to socialize with, a maritime path across the ocean means crushing loneliness and irreparable boredom. You must be braced to spend 10 days inside your own head, a book, or off the starboard side.
For a taste of what's to come, here's a shot of my first purchased and confirmed freighter. The CMA CGM Kingfish is shown here leaving New York City, as I will be, bound for my first foreign destination (Tanger, Morocco) almost precisely 1 year ago today.
* Let the record show that by affordable I mean in comparison to the alternative: the QE2. Flying is still vastly cheaper than freighter travel. At almost double the price of an airplane ticket, I am absolutely not recommending that you boat to save cash. In addition, it is in no way possible to swab your way across the ocean. Freighter crew do not ever accept work for transport.
For reliable and affordable* crossing of the big blue wet thing, I will be depending predominantly on cargo freighters. How is this possible? Since the mechanization of most physical labor, the personnel required for the loading and crewing of freighters has been significantly reduced. That means open cabins, which were wasted space until someone had the bright idea to hock them to travelers as a rugged cruise alternative.
Freighter travel is no walk in the park. I've had to jump through several bureaucratic hoops, including some very specific travel insurance requirements and a rubber stamp of approval from a doctor. The latter is to safeguard against the infirm boarding boats, since all cabins are up 3 or more flights of stairs and there is no physician on board. If you are not infirm of body, the greater challenge seems to be a weakening of the soul. With little to do for more than a week and few if any people to socialize with, a maritime path across the ocean means crushing loneliness and irreparable boredom. You must be braced to spend 10 days inside your own head, a book, or off the starboard side.
For a taste of what's to come, here's a shot of my first purchased and confirmed freighter. The CMA CGM Kingfish is shown here leaving New York City, as I will be, bound for my first foreign destination (Tanger, Morocco) almost precisely 1 year ago today.
* Let the record show that by affordable I mean in comparison to the alternative: the QE2. Flying is still vastly cheaper than freighter travel. At almost double the price of an airplane ticket, I am absolutely not recommending that you boat to save cash. In addition, it is in no way possible to swab your way across the ocean. Freighter crew do not ever accept work for transport.
Friday, May 06, 2011
The Next Step
It's true that I've been mentally checked out of Korea for some time now. I'm in the last four months of my job at Avalon. The food and culture are so normal these days that I can barely think of things to write about on this blog. I've hit a linguistic ceiling for someone not taking classes. There are few loose ends left to tie here, and considering that I've even done and seen all the things I wanted to before leaving Korea, I'd say it's been a pretty successful ride. While four months certainly leaves time for an adventure or two, most of my energy these days is consumed with the future, and Korea is more and more a part of the past. On September first, it will be completely so.
So what does the future hold? Well, right now I've been accepted into the Peace Corps, but the details are getting more vague with time instead of more concrete. At first, it appeared as though I were going to "eastern Europe or central Asia" (2,212,896 sq mi), but within a week I was renominated to "central or south America" (7,902,233 sq mi). Mathematically, assuming the increase in vagueness is linear and not exponential, I should be volunteering in "the world" by July 9th.
In the meantime, I am busily preparing for the stopgap. In the five months between the end of Korea and the start of some new adventure in [country name], I intend to do some traveling. The goal is to circumnavigate the globe. I have set two rules for this adventure. (1) I must cross the equator, and (2) I can not leave the surface.
The first rule is simply one of the governing concepts in the definition of circumnavigation. You must cross every line of longitude and you must finish in the same place you started in, but without the restriction of crossing the equator there is nothing to prevent you from heading straight north, skipping around the pole, then going home. While that would be an adventure in and of itself, it's not a valid circumnavigation. Crossing the equator is the simplest way to guarantee that the prospective circumnavigatee completes a "great circle," or a distance equal to the full circumference of the Earth.
As for the latter rule, I don't think there's any excitement in just getting on a commuter jet and showing up nine hours later in another country. A trip of this scale is about so much more than country hopping. I actually want to see the transformation of the land as it happens. Getting way up in an airplane is a fantastic way to skip over the weirdness, the run ins, and ultimately all of the fun of a "global road trip." Not to mention I hate airports, airplanes, and flying, as many do. I've discovered during my surface transport research an entire community of airplane boycotters, either because of health, phobias, or environmental conviction. While none of those apply to me, it is reassuring to discover that thousands of modern people every year travel on freighters, trains, buses, and ferries.
I've resisted the urge to romanticize this attempted circumnavigation, but just the very word conjures images of Magellan spliced with Indiana Jones. One of the great struggles is grasping the reality that this is not a camel ride montage across the Sahara or a pan out to a brown map with an animated red dotted line representing me zipping across the Pacific. Every moment of this will not be waking up outside the Taj Mahal or some other picturesque and magnificent scene. I have to force myself to accept that this will be exceedingly boring and lonely for the most part. I have to approach this realistically or I will not be able to achieve it: I will arrive on the other side of the Atlantic after 10 days on a cramped cargo freighter and think to myself, " This sucks." It will not be a cake walk, of this I am sure. However, I know that in a year I will either remember the experience exclusively in a positive light or I will not have survived it. In the coming months I'll keep you posted with as much concrete information about my trip as I have to share with you. For now and in the future, you can see the route as it develops here.
So what does the future hold? Well, right now I've been accepted into the Peace Corps, but the details are getting more vague with time instead of more concrete. At first, it appeared as though I were going to "eastern Europe or central Asia" (2,212,896 sq mi), but within a week I was renominated to "central or south America" (7,902,233 sq mi). Mathematically, assuming the increase in vagueness is linear and not exponential, I should be volunteering in "the world" by July 9th.
In the meantime, I am busily preparing for the stopgap. In the five months between the end of Korea and the start of some new adventure in [country name], I intend to do some traveling. The goal is to circumnavigate the globe. I have set two rules for this adventure. (1) I must cross the equator, and (2) I can not leave the surface.
The first rule is simply one of the governing concepts in the definition of circumnavigation. You must cross every line of longitude and you must finish in the same place you started in, but without the restriction of crossing the equator there is nothing to prevent you from heading straight north, skipping around the pole, then going home. While that would be an adventure in and of itself, it's not a valid circumnavigation. Crossing the equator is the simplest way to guarantee that the prospective circumnavigatee completes a "great circle," or a distance equal to the full circumference of the Earth.
As for the latter rule, I don't think there's any excitement in just getting on a commuter jet and showing up nine hours later in another country. A trip of this scale is about so much more than country hopping. I actually want to see the transformation of the land as it happens. Getting way up in an airplane is a fantastic way to skip over the weirdness, the run ins, and ultimately all of the fun of a "global road trip." Not to mention I hate airports, airplanes, and flying, as many do. I've discovered during my surface transport research an entire community of airplane boycotters, either because of health, phobias, or environmental conviction. While none of those apply to me, it is reassuring to discover that thousands of modern people every year travel on freighters, trains, buses, and ferries.
I've resisted the urge to romanticize this attempted circumnavigation, but just the very word conjures images of Magellan spliced with Indiana Jones. One of the great struggles is grasping the reality that this is not a camel ride montage across the Sahara or a pan out to a brown map with an animated red dotted line representing me zipping across the Pacific. Every moment of this will not be waking up outside the Taj Mahal or some other picturesque and magnificent scene. I have to force myself to accept that this will be exceedingly boring and lonely for the most part. I have to approach this realistically or I will not be able to achieve it: I will arrive on the other side of the Atlantic after 10 days on a cramped cargo freighter and think to myself, " This sucks." It will not be a cake walk, of this I am sure. However, I know that in a year I will either remember the experience exclusively in a positive light or I will not have survived it. In the coming months I'll keep you posted with as much concrete information about my trip as I have to share with you. For now and in the future, you can see the route as it develops here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)