The University of Adventure and the Real Life

Catching a Moment - A coming together like no other

karinas_extraordinary_life — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 13:17:26 GMT

I challenge you to find a more beautiful and exciting Christmas tradition anywhere. What I just observed is unrivaled by any city in any country in the world!
Perched up high above the city lights I witnessed the heavens come to life. When 4 million people simultaneously set off firebombs across the night sky it is a delight for all your senses. The smoky sulfur fills you with joy. The streams of whistles, bangs and every decibel explosions from far and wide rattle you deep in your core. The colours and sparkles spread across the atmosphere eventually mingling with the bright lights from a valley of homes and streets. You feel the tingle of amazement and wonder too know that all the souls in this place are sharing this special moment. Transcending the societal hierarchy, from the mansions high above to the slums deep below, everyone; man, woman and child is experiencing this spectacular display just the same.
Guatemala City has carried on this tradition for many years. The start and culmination of it all is at twelve o’clock on the dot and lasts up to an hour. Eventually the sky fills with the smokes of these blazing sights. As it settles like a fog over the valley you can still see glows of the continued showers of coloured fire being shot up into the sky.
I dare you to try to capture this on film. Its grandeur cannot simply be displayed in a photograph. It is something that must be experienced.

Photos: Extraordinary Living in the World

karinas_extraordinary_life — Fri, 1 Jun 2012 00:30:00 GMT

Deep Water Tornadoes

karinas_extraordinary_life — Mon, 14 May 2012 13:24:00 GMT

I haven’t had the chance to do any climbing while here in tiny Ton Sai, a town, no, village, no... a spit of white sand crammed between enormous limestone peaks, jutting out of the earth and ocean. A few bungalows and restaurants have sprung back up since this place was decimated in the 2004 tsunami. There are no roads, and only a few hours a day of electricity. But back to climbing thing, I took a chance today and joined the Deep Water Solo Climbing adventure group. Yesterday’s group returned at 3pm, more than enough time to shower and catch the last boat out to the mainland. My visa expires tomorrow you see and it would be 500 Baht per day for any over time. I need to get to Krabi today so I can take the 6am bus to Satun, where I will then catch an international ferry to Malaysia’s Langkawi. At least, I was supposed to.....
So I woke up bright and early today excited for my chance to combine two amazing adrenaline sports over the clearest waters of the Andaman coast: Rock Climbing and Cliff jumping. Basically you get to free climb (no ropes) over the jagged peaks rising out of the warm waters that you will eventually land in when you fall, or more desirably, jump into after conquering your climb. It was a long, hot, awesome, hot, fun, did I mention hot? day. The sun was beaming all day. We climbed, we snorkeled, we ate on a beautiful deserted beach, we kayaked and then climbed some more. Exhausted from the climbs and aching from the sun on my skin I settled into one of the humble long tail boats that had ferried us about 20 minutes out to sea and started taking some pictures. The ocean had been getting a bit rough in the last few hours. The waves grew substantially making even our Thai guides struggle on the kayaks. But the sky above us remained the brightest blues with only the most perfect little cotton ball clouds. All our eyes continued to be fixated on the rocks as climbers reached higher and higher on overhangs and stalactites and jumped farther and farther into the choppy sea.
I guess that is why no one saw it coming!
It wasn’t far, but it wasn’t close. It was still thin at the top, nearly transparent at the bottom, but it was very, very clearly a tornado! It spun nearly motionless over a far away island seemingly disturbing nothing. The dark grey clouds above spread and let down a sheet of water obscuring daylight. Still all you had to do, was turn 180 degrees, back to the rocks, for a perfect sunny day on the west coast of Thailand.
The storm did not seize. The tornado grew bigger, thicker, and darker. Eventually it moved over the water with such force that the sea seemed to be displaced, sucked up into the power of the twister. The waters got rougher. The guides made the call, everyone in. We had already been battling to stabilize the boat for an hour, moving around it trying to make our weight shift keep us from capsizing. But the storm was always just far enough away. Needless to say though, when it came time to head back inland, manoeuvring through the waves clearly became a challenge for our little boat. The return time was more than 5 times what our journey there was. We had to take several detours behind other islands and seek shallower waters.
It was never a great safety risk. Our guides were clearly experts in everything we did today. But in the end, it wasn’t enough to help me get to my boat on time! Im surely not crying about having to stay here one more night (not even close believe me:P) but that 500 Baht fine sure is going to hurt when I finally cross the border, one day late!

I haven’t had the chance to do any climbing while here in tiny Ton Sai; a spit of white sand crammed between enormous limestone peaks jutting out of the earth and ocean. A few bungalows and restaurants have sprung back up since this place was decimated in the 2004 tsunami. There are no roads, and only a few hours a day of electricity. But back to climbing thing, I took a chance today and joined the Deep Water Solo Climbing adventure group. Yesterday’s group returned at 3pm, more than enough time to shower and catch the last boat out to the mainland. My visa expires tomorrow you see and it would be 500 Baht per day for any over time. I need to get to Krabi today so I can take the 6am bus to Satun, where I will then catch an international ferry to Malaysia’s Langkawi. At least, I was supposed to....
So I woke up bright and early today excited for my chance to combine two amazing adrenaline sports over the clearest waters of the Andaman coast: Rock Climbing and Cliff jumping. Basically you get to free climb (no ropes) over the jagged peaks rising out of the warm waters that you will eventually land in when you fall, or more desirably, jump into after conquering your climb. It was a long, hot, awesome, hot, fun, did I mention hot? day. The sun was beaming all day. We climbed, we snorkeled, we ate on a beautiful deserted beach, we kayaked and then climbed some more. Exhausted from the climbs and aching from the sun on my skin I settled into one of the humble long tail boats that had ferried us about 20 minutes out to sea and started taking some pictures. The ocean had been getting a bit rough in the last few hours. The waves grew substantially making even our Thai guides struggle on the kayaks. But the sky above us remained the brightest blues with only the most perfect little cotton ball clouds. All our eyes continued to be fixated on the rocks as climbers reached higher and higher on overhangs and stalactites and jumped farther and farther into the choppy sea.
I guess that is why no one saw it coming!
It wasn’t far, but it wasn’t close. It was still thin at the top, nearly transparent at the bottom, but it was very, very clearly a tornado! It spun nearly motionless over a far away island seemingly disturbing nothing. The dark grey clouds above spread and let down a sheet of water obscuring daylight. Still all you had to do, was turn 180 degrees, back to the rocks, for a perfect sunny day on the west coast of Thailand.
The storm did not seize. The tornado grew bigger, thicker, and darker. Eventually it moved over the water with such force that the sea seemed to be displaced, sucked up into the power of the twister. The waters got rougher. The guides made the call, everyone in. We had already been battling to stabilize the boat for an hour, moving around it trying to make our weight shift keep us from capsizing. But the storm was always just far enough away. Needless to say though, when it came time to head back inland, manoeuvring through the waves clearly became a challenge for our little boat. The return time was more than 5 times what our journey there was. We had to take several detours behind other islands and seek shallower waters. It was never a great safety risk. Our guides were clearly experts in everything we did today. But in the end, it wasn’t enough to help me get to my boat on time! Im surely not crying about having to stay here one more night (not even close believe me:P) but that 500 Baht fine sure is going to hurt when I finally cross the border, one day late!

Freedom Rider

karinas_extraordinary_life — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 13:21:00 GMT

It started like any other day, waking up in a strange world full of opportunity and discovery with no plans or expectations. What it became, a 2 day expedition; just me, my backpack and a shiny new rented Honda I recently learned to ride, into places seemingly unseen by any foreigner or wanderer.
Past the rice paddies, rivers and waterfalls. Past countless villages inhabited by more than 20 different Ethnic tribes, through the NPA; massive jungles tangled high into the mountains of Northern Laos, following exhilarating hair pin bends that swayed my body in a rhythmic motion over the hills and through the valleys. For hours, with the road at my command I went in and out of paths big and small meeting villagers along the way. At one particular bridge, 2 dozen children in all states of undress leaped and flipped into the river below. They welcomed my presence and laughed uncontrollably at this ‘falang’ (foreigner). Others piled unto bicycles, 3 at a time to make the hard journey home up steep mountains. One lucky boy, left behind by his friends got home much faster after I invited him to ride along with me. Communication barriers created silence between us as he held on behind me, but his joy was not unnoticed.
Enchanted by the most stunning sunset I rode on into the darkness, the sound of my engine my only companion. The smokes of the slash and burn season create the most alluring colours in the sky. A sudden shift in the characters carved into the stone markers along the narrow road and a brightly lit blockade announced my accidental arrival at the Lao/Chinese border – an access point unavailable to all foreigners. The officials quickly pointed my camera back in my bag before any shots could commemorate the occasion, although they were happy to engage in a game of charades with me as their bright curiosity took over. How on earth does a little girl like me from the complete other side of the world end up here?
I didn’t have to go much further back into Laos before a few more games of charades helped me locate a bag of Chinese cookies and a bottle of water – this would have to do as my lunch and dinner for the day. People here truly live off the land. Another 2km down the road, a bright light sparked my interest. Electricity! I parked at the end of a small dirt pathway; I could hear the generators working hard and the sound of laughter. I descended through a maze of tarps and Western and tribal style clothing between Thai Lu styled homes, many with no doors or windows. Some of them, no walls at all. To my surprise, about a dozen or so children and teenagers were gathered around a small pool table. A young girl jumped out from the group, eager to greet me: in English! Very outgoing unless her limited vocabulary failed her she invited me to her home: a large wooden room with straw roof, the floor inside no different from the ground outside. Eight family members of all ages were gathered inside. A little girl of maybe 3 or 4 obediently offered me a tiny bamboo stool despite everyone else sitting on the cool moist ground. The family studied me silently, although occasional comments prompted explosions of laughter from everyone as I chatted away with my new friend. She is 17 years old, already she has a baby although she was unable to tell me his age. Time is different here, governed only by the moons and planting seasons. She told me how she goes into town to sell items her family grows, watermelons mostly, and takes every opportunity to learn English from anyone she can, mainly locals who work as trekking guides in larger towns like Luang Nam Tha and occasionally Muang Sign when a traveler does venture out farther. The grandmother maintained a big smile and eyes focused on me before finally informing my young translator that she thought I was very beautiful, “your skin like Lao skin”. My accommodations for the night would be found nearby, a small wooden den overlooking the Mien and Akha tribe villages on the Chinese border. Total darkness and the sounds of a million tiny creatures amplified. Nothing else!
Tonight I sleep in the very heart of the infamous Golden Triangle.