Castle

Rob's birthdays are legendary.

He likes going big. Nothing extravagant, generally, but something special - boating trips in Croatia, super fun costume parties, that sort of thing. Even between birthdays, Rob plays host to his friends regularly for Sunday roasts and weekend gatherings at his London loft. He has a great talent for orchestrating and executing occasions for his friends to gather.

While having a gathering of my own back home in my Lower Haight flat one day, someone mentioned that, for this year, Rob had decided to rent a castle in Scotland to celebrate his and the other late September birthdays of our friends Joe and Tiffany.

I was sitting on a decent pile of frequent flier miles. I had been waiting for a trip idea to come along that was far away and interesting enough to be worth using the miles. Frankly, I enjoyed the idea of using them for something extravagant and almost irresponsible. I'd get a charge out of feeling somewhat jet set.

My eyes widened. I rode out the rest of that conversation, probably half listening. When I caught a break, I whipped out the phone and sent Rob a quick text message: "Can I come to your birthday party??"

He immediately responded with an enthusiastic "Really!??"... and the planning began.

I had some previous engagements I had to work around. I've only just started a new contract job and have already taken some time off. Also, Erin's sister's wedding would be the weekend following, so although I couldn't stay for the follow up party back in London and I wouldn't get to visit all the UK friends I wanted to, I would be able to swing a full week in the UK. So mid September, just after my own birthday, I hopped a plane and headed East.

It occurs to me that it's been awhile since I have flown somewhere I've already been. It's quite a luxurious feeling, I must say. Without having to do any research, I knew exactly what trains to take from Heathrow Airport and the walking route to get to Rob's front door. He texted me, "Need directions?". "I'm oriented!" I replied.

When I arrived late in the evening, Joe and Shana were already there. They had arrived from San Francisco the day before. As it turns out, about half of the people heading to the castle party are from San Francisco. Especially impressive considering the relative distance and the fact that most of the others were not traveling to London for free like I did.

Although I had planned to take a day trip to Brighton the next day, a late night Farkle tournament and its accompanying cocktails left me somewhat incapacitated until too late into the next morning. Instead I managed to do some shopping in Camden Town with Joe and Shana. Rob had given us a loose dress code of "castle wear" and I managed to find a couple of plaid items to accommodate my interpretation.

The remainder of the SF contingent showed up that day. We would all travel early the next morning by air to Edinburgh (pronounced Ehdinbruh) and so we took it easy that night and prepared a delicious BBQ dinner.

That evening, I was delighted to suddenly come face to face with Toria who stopped by to surprise me. I had been terribly disappointed I wasn't going to see her on my trip out this time around, so it was a big boost for me to see her walk in and hang out for a bit even if only for a couple of hours on her way in and out of town that evening. She's one of my very favorite people.

We all wanted to get a decent night's sleep and so Rob's loft soon resembled an orphanage. Anything comfortable to sleep on would be lined up the entire length of his main room's floor. All trying to sleep on the wrong side of the clock, we tossed and turned, and made a feeble attempt to be well rested for our journey into the grassy lands.

At dawn, with military precision, we assembled, picked up a few local London friends, and managed to move ourselves and all our castle gear northward. Once in Edinburgh, we rented four cars and wound our way through the rolling green countryside.

There was very little town to see on the way. We noted the somewhat tiny towns of Perth and Blairgowrie, but none lasted very long to drive through. Most of what we saw was sheep munching on the plentiful grass, and hay bales arranged like giant beige toilet paper rolls sitting in large formations along the landscape.

It wasn't green everywhere though. The hilltops were mostly beige. It was mainly the farmland with sheep and cattle to fertilize the soil that seemed to turn up the color knob. But the farmland was never ending. You could imagine these plots and towns existing in the same precise state back hundreds, maybe thousands of years. In fact, while we were in the air, our pilot announced in a very matter-of-fact manner that we would be passing over the town of Nottingham. You mean there's really such a place? Well if there was, it would be here, that's for sure.

The rental car we were driving in was outfitted with a GPS navigation package, however it required a street address to get us past the center of the closest town. Beyond that, all we had were directions from the castle's caretaker, Mel. Our castle had no use for a street address. Luckily, her directions were spot on, and after winding around a single lane road for awhile wondering if we might be lost, the castle and it's surrounding domain emerged. We had seen a couple of pictures so we knew this must be the place. And sure enough, as we crossed through the black iron gates, Mel was standing in the giant wood doorway waiting for our arrival.

She gave us all a tour and explained that the castle has been a family home for some years. The family had been responsible for salvaging a rather run down shell of a building and transforming it into a grand place that strikes a balance between rustic and authentic yet comfortable and homey. With family photos still decorating each room, it seems the family still uses the house as a country retreat and rents it out while they're not using it. This would be our home for the next three days. We were the, albeit temporary, lairds and ladies.

From the upper floors one could get a good look at the valley surrounding the castle. Green grass and sheep as far as the eye could see with babbling brooks weaving their way through the property.

There were clearly farms belonging to other families in the Glen Isla valley. But Mel informed us we had something known as "rambling rights". As occupants of the castle, we had the right to hop fences and explore any property we wished as long as we didn't disrupt the livestock. I liked the sound of that.

Besides food and drink, the castle was stocked with just about everything one might want during a cozy highland getaway. The "bootery" next to the front door had enough rubber galoshes for everyone to meander through the marsh. The "piggery", although devoid of any pigs, did have a clothes washer and dryer and as much firewood as we would need to keep the largest fireplace I have every seen ablaze with warmth. I have been learning to play proper chess recently and sure enough there was a gorgeous leather chess table with tournament pieces ready and waiting for me and my challengers, along with a myriad other games perfect for a big chill type weekend.

The kitchen was cavernous with a low arched stone ceiling. You could imagine the servants down here cooking away and walking plates of roast beast up the back servants stairs to the main dining and living floor which had room for all of us to hang out comfortably.

From there, a spiral stone staircase lifted you up the five story building, and wooden doors would greet you as you were winding your way up, each with its own room themed for the family member that sleeps there.

The master bedroom housed a four poster bed with a purple mink comforter and was universally described by everyone who slept in it as the most comfortable bed they had ever experienced. It also had a claw tub surrounded by an antique partition and a reading nook up some stairs in one of the corner turrets looking out a small sunny window.

The place was littered with interesting ancient books on regional history, maps, and outdoor activities. Every room was filled with charming but inviting antique furniture and each was outfitted with a carafe of scotch whisky and a couple of glasses.

Part of our group went out to grocery shop for the week while others napped and got their bearings around the house.

We were lucky that some in our group were magnificent cooks. All week we had delicious dinners and desserts. It could have been spaghetti and sauce every night if it had been left to some of us less kitchen worthy. We all contributed in our own way to the festivities. But I am quite thankful for those who cooked.

On a few occasions, groups of us would throw on some rubber boots, kilts if we had 'em, and anything plaid, and then head off into the horizon to survey our domain. Since we didn't really know our way around too well, we'd often find ourselves in a pickle, needing to cross a stream or hop a barbed fence. It was an adventure to be sure. It wasn't unusual to get jabbed or soaked along the way.

While climbing one of the nearby "mountains" (more like foothills), we noted an abundance of a certain shrub that was clearly dry and out of season, and was responsible for that beige color at the hilltops. Someone said it was heather, but I'm not sure of that. I noticed that a few of the plants still had their vibrant purple flowers from their blooming season. That brought me to the conclusion that during that season (maybe spring?), all of the surrounding land that was not bright green would be bright purple. I couldn't imagine how breathtaking that would be. We climbed up to the peak of the nearest mountain and beheld a lonely loch with a single cabin on its shores. No other building as far as you could see. Tough for a city boy like me to imagine.

No lands like these would be complete without a mythical legend. As we were strolling back from the mountains we came across a plaque that gave some information. Apparently Glen Isla, the region we were in, used to be the home of two giants, husband and wife. The townspeople feared the giants as they would periodically throw boulders down onto to the town from above. Luckily we didn't see any giants, but there was a neighbor farmer they called "Big John". Maybe he was a descendant.

While we filled our days with rambling, our nights were all eating and drinking, with the occasional dance party. We brought a bit of sound equipment for just this purpose and some folks really went all out with some opulent period costumes. I had to wonder if the castle had seen this kind of party before. I sure hope so.

On our final day, part of our crew arranged to see one of the original whisky distilleries in the area. I had a different mission. I used to have a favorite scarf that got lost last year. The pattern was a dark blue and green plaid - a pattern that I noticed quite frequently around these parts. I figured I'd be able to find a new scarf if we headed to town. So on the way back some of us stopped in Blairgowrie to do a little shopping, and sure enough found some lovely lambswool scarves and one with the pattern I wanted. Success! I knew there was a practial reason for coming to Scotland.

Sadly, the party had to come to and end and we zoomed back to Edinburgh and real life.

It was a big chill indeed, and I couldn't have spent it with a better group. Thanks all.

I certainly can't think of a better use for those flier miles.

Belize

While lounging around on our secluded Tulum beach day after day, Erin and I had plenty of opportunity to read through our guide book and learn about surrounding areas we might jaunt off to. We both have friends and family that have recently been to Belize. We knew it was another culture entirely from Mexico. English, albeit a Carribbean variety, is the official language, and where else can you see a toucan, the country's official bird?

All signs were pointing us to Caye Caulker, a small island off the coast of Belize City. By all accounts it has a relaxed atmosphere, reasonable prices, and a whole new menu of Carribbean culinary delights. It is about a six hour bus ride from Tulum - three to the border, and three more to Belize city, so we could surely get there in a single day.

Well it turns out getting there in one day isn't such a slam dunk. The main difficulty being the first bus to Chetumal, the Mexican border town, leaving Tulum at 10:30 am and the final ferry to the island departing at 5:30 pm. That doesn't leave a lot of breathing room for immigration, bus changes, and finding the ferry terminal from the bus station. We decided it would be close, but worst case, we could spend the night in either Chetumal or Belize City if need be.

On the bus to Chetumal we met some English and Aussie backpackers who had the same destination in mind. As we arrived at the bus station, we were greeted by a gentleman who recognized us as folks likely headed for Belize City. He asked if that's where we were headed and told us he had a bus leaving in 20 minutes. If we wanted to go we should buy a ticket immediately from the teenager beside him at a small desk. Until now, we had only ridden the first class ADO buses, with proper ticket counters, uniformed staff, and fancy computer screens. Also, a handy rule of thumb we tend to live by is that products and services being touted by folks that approach you are frequently inferior and/or overpriced. We had, however, heard from some other travelers, back in Tulum, that the bus down to Belize was a major step down in comfort level, and when he pointed his bus out, it was certainly consistent with what we'd heard. There was a cardboard sign in the windshield with some crayon writing: "Belize Express". The man told us that he could get us to Belize City before the last ferry departed.

We made a leap of faith, and handed over about $10 USD per person and crossed our fingers. All seven of us hopped aboard the otherwise empty bus and felt some optimism for the first time about making it all the way before nightfall.

Before getting to the nearby border, we stopped at a gas station and I noted that the bus's co-captain put fully half of the ticket money he had just collected from us into the gas tank for the three hour drive ahead, leaving them only a small profit for such a long ride.

After breezing through immigration at the border, we drove the last leg to Belize City where we were dropped at what I would consider a pretty janky bus station, given that this was the country's capital city.

We knew we didn't have much time to make the ferry and also knew the dock was several blocks from the station, somewhere in this shanty town. The taxi touts descended and successfully herded us into a taxi van where we just made the last ferry. The San Pedro ferry left at the same time. Based on the boat size and the crowd size, we could tell they were going to the big place, and we were going to the small place. Fine with us.

Around 6:30 pm with the sun beginning to set, we landed in Caye (pronounced "key") Caulker. From the dock, the town looked cute and colorful. Brightly colored buildings lined the sleepy coast.

The other backpackers hit the hostel two steps from the dock. It seemed pleasant enough, but they were out of private rooms, so we walked around a bit until we found a decent room just before nightfall. While walking around though, we learned (and smelled) that this day was the very first day of lobster season. Everyone in town was out grilling up big fresh whole lobsters, and waving us in to have a taste. Which I did. And it was, well, delicious.. and relatively cheap ($15 US).

The next day we had more time to look for a place to live, and settled on Mara's Place Guesthouse, which was essentially Mara's family's house with some guesthouses sprinkled around the property. We chose the one that was kind of like the basement of the family house, but it was the biggest room and had a couple of hammocks shaded beneath the house above. This turned out to be an excellent decision.

You see, just after we settled in and went out to get some sun, the sun vanished, and more rain than I had ever seen began pouring from the sky. This is the type of rain that will soak your clothes through in about three seconds. I'm almost surprised there is any air at all between the enormous raindrops. It's almost like a waterfall. We ran for our covered hammocks to wait it out. After all, this is the tropics. It's prone to rain from time to time, especially in the summer.

But it didn't stop. Occasionally it would tease you with a let up. But then it would come down again within a minute or two. In fact, it continued so long that we began to plot what we might make a run for during the next pause in rain. We need money. ATM? We're running low on water. Where exactly is the store? We had no time to think. When the rain stopped. Ready, GO!

Over the next couple of days it didn't rain quite as much and we were pleased with what the small island had to offer. Fruit and granola breakfasts (my favorite kind) at Amor y Cafe, informal but extremely delicious backyard BBQ dining at Wish Willy, fresh homemade cookies at Jan's Pastry Shop, and irie cocktails at The Oceanside and Herbal Tribe.

The town seemed like the kind of place that one could settle in for awhile. There is one main road that you have to walk up and down to do anything. And it's the type of place where you will see the same person three times in one day, because you all live and do your business on the same street.

One day I saw an unusual white guy dressed in suspenders and pushing a wheelbarrow. He seemed to be out of a Tom Sawyer novel. I first noticed him because of the usually intense effort he was putting into what seemed to be a failed snot rocket attempt outside of a grocery store. After that, every time I saw him on the road, he just didn't seem entirely normal. But I didn't think much of him. However, later that week, I saw a pair of similar looking fair skinned blond fellows (maybe brothers) dressed almost exactly alike and appeared to be trying out for the same part in the Tom Sawyer play as the first guy. When I heard them speak Creole, I knew they were local, so I flipped through my guidebook to see if there were any clues. The conclusion: Mennonites. Apparently there is a sizable population in Belize. It definitely catches your eye to see poor white people in a mostly black and latino country.

After a few days, the weather wore on us. The Tulum weather had been so much better. Clear and sunny. This rain was no good. Although some folks around town would say "probably sunny tomorrow," a young carpenter we met ducking from the rain for a moment had a more credible non-tourism-boosting statement. "It's like this almost every day here this time of year."

We returned to the janky bus station and with no Belize Express bus to drive us, we took a public bus back up to the border. After four more bus transfers, by nightfall we were back in paradise. Tulum.

I never did see a toucan.

Tulum

Erin and I arrived at Cancun airport at around 11 am. We planned to arrive in the morning because we knew we wanted to try and get to Tulum the same day and secure a place to sleep before dark. As we were landing, I could see that the region is densely forested in every direction. It is fairly flat with a thick two-story-high web of trees and bushes. I tried to imagine what Mayans did to get through this stuff armed only with machetes.

Tulum, Mexico is a two hour bus ride south from Cancun's main bus station. ADO is the major bus company in that area and has very nice first class buses that will take you down the main highway in style for about $6 USD and plop you right in the middle of the pueblo in Tulum. From there we asked a cab driver to take us to a nice barato cabaña on the beach. You have to take a cab because the beach hotel zone is a couple of miles from town. The beach area is next to a park preserve and is protected from development. Right now that means, no piped in water or electricity (each hotel has to bring its own), and no non-hotel commerce. This makes the beach quiet, quiet, quiet.

After some driving we realized the cabbie might bring us to his buddy's place, so we asked him to stop at a place we'd seen in our guide book, Diamante K. We inquired and found they had a very charming and comfortable cabaña for $40, exactly our budget. For a first try this seemed pretty good. We could scan the area for better deals the next day, but this place seemed really pleasant. Out front, a sign informed us that this hotel was "eco chic". Although I'm not entirely certain what that means, it certainly seemed to fit. This was not the sort of place that just threw together some palapa roof shacks. The cabañas were indeed basic, but I was certain that a real live architect guided the placement, orientation, window positions, materials, furniture, and decor of each individual building. Every window had a postcard perfect view, the wooden doors were hand carved, cool sculptures in the sand perfectly lit at night. There were definitely some pros at work here. With not much more in the rooms than a bed, and only candle light in the shared bathrooms, it felt more like stylish camping than a hotel.

But really, this part of the world is all about the beach. Turquoise 80°F water, fine white powder sand, coconut palms lining the coast. It's jaw dropping. And it's all yours. No crowds, no distractions. Just peace and quiet and perfect beach.

We walked the beach for about a mile or so and decided that we liked our place and we'd stay put for now. But while walking by resort after resort, we could clearly see the vacancy. It did indeed feel a bit like a ghost town. Some beach front restaurants were shut. The empty beach chairs begging the question: Why, on such a perfectly lovely day, would this place (this beautiful place!) be empty?

Abraham, a friendly guy from Oakland that works at the Weary Traveler Hostel in the pueblo answered it the best I think. "Five minutes on CNN." That is all it took. Someone in the media decided the Swine Flu was a hot story. Although after a week it turned out to be a non-story, the news media, with that decision, turned paradise into a ghost town.

You could say, "Great! More Tulum for me." But instead it just seemed sad. Mainly I felt for the locals who depend on the tourism revenue. But also, after about a week of soaking up the sun and natural beauty, I kind of wanted to socialize with some other people. It seemed a shame that all this wasn't being properly enjoyed.

I chatted with some of the few other tourists who were around and we all had the same reaction: Why is this low season anyway? The weather is great. Everything is beautiful. Where is everyone?

Indeed, the heat, which I was most concerned about before our arrival, turned out to be not so bad, especially at the beach. I expected more mosquitoes. There were some. But I've seen much worse.

I'd say the roughest part about staying at the beach is the distance from town. Our hotel had a restaurant, but there weren't really enough customers to keep it open regularly. So they'd open when they felt like it. And when they did, the prices were at least double what you'd find in the pueblo. So we resigned ourselves to cabbing to town twice per day to eat. That wasn't really so bad. The taxis around Tulum are cheap, clean, friendly, and plentiful. A ride one way is 40-45 pesos ($3 USD) which just became part of our meal budget.

My personal favorites in town for food were Don Cafeto, an open air restaurant on the main road. I couldn't stop ordering their delicious garlic fish fillet. After sampling many restaurants, they seemed to have the best food. I also could rarely pass by Pollo Bronco without my mouth watering. It's a mainly take out place with some tables which just grills whole chickens all afternoon. You can get a 1/4 chicken with rice, tortillas, salsa, and lettuce (make your own tacos) for 30 pesos (about $2). It is just plain delicious.

One day, we decided to rent some bikes so we could ride further down the coast and check out some more hotels and see the coastline. We went to Iguana bicycle shop which was recommended by everyone we asked as well as our guide book. We were somewhat surprised to find that renting two bikes for a day costs 200 pesos (about $15 US). I tried to negotiate to no avail. We rode the bikes about 7km down the highway, stopping at the occasional resort to check it out. The paved road ends at the park preserve and turns to dirt. We decided at this point to turn around since it was super hot out and we were going to have to ride all the way back. Just as we started to head back, Erin's chain started to slip. Within about two minutes, the slip turned into complete dysfunction. It wasn't that the chain was loose, it was that something inside the gear assembly had completely broken inside. There was no way to fix it on the road. We'd have to try and start back toward the bike shop to get another bike, but we were miles from the shop. So we McGyver'd together a tow rope out of our two bike lock chains. I towed her behind me. It wasn't all that hard to pedal pulling two bikes. However, keeping control of the bikes and not wiping out was another matter.

We made it about 4km and came across a local policeman. I tried my best in Spanish to tell him what was wrong. I asked him if there is any bus or truck that could take our bikes the rest of the way to town. Just then his supervisor drove by in a large pickup. After some more sign language and pitiful sad faces, they allowed us and our bikes into the bed and drove us back to the shop, probably saving us from heat stroke and/or a more severe roadside wipe out.

At the shop I asked the manager if we could have a few more hours added to our rental period. It seemed reasonable seeing how much of our day had now been spent just tending to this broken bike. But he said "No. It worked when you left with it." He could sense that we were confused and dissatisfied with his refusal, so he continued with something like, "I know that in America when things go wrong, you get some compensation. But not in Mexico. Here people know that sometimes these things happen."

While asking around town for other places we might rent a cheaper bike, our wise old friend Abraham responded, "No, Iguana's the only place. But you know you can rent a car from Alamo for $15 per day, right?"

Now we do.

Summer

Well in my last travel post, I wrote of my plan to work six months and then take two months off. It wasn't easy. I had to turn down some offers of full time employment in a difficult job market. I ended up finding a contract with an uncertain length (a few months they said). Miraculously, it turned out to last exactly six months. Fate I suppose. So I planned another trip.

This time, however, I knew I wanted some of my time off to be at home in San Francisco. Summertime is a great time to be in the city and I knew I would be missing home no matter where in the world I went. But I also knew that after having wound myself back up into a busy city living pace, I was due for a nice relaxing getaway to help me wind myself back down to a properly relaxed state. As always, I pictured a beach, a hammock, and not much else. I really miss Thong Nai Pan in Thailand (my ideal place for said wind-down), but June just isn't the best season to go there. That's a trip for January.

I have been hearing for several years now about Tulum, Mexico. A tranquil, rustic beach town a couple hours south of Cancun on the warm Caribbean Sea. Flights to Cancun are cheap and prices have dropped in the region because of the down economy and the recent Swine Flu scare.

I had actually just settled on Tulum just a day or so before the Swine Flu news hit. I was ready to cancel the trip, but continued watching the news, hoping the danger would subside. After about a week it became clear that the news media had overreacted and that the flu was no more dangerous than any other seasonal flu. But the damage to public perception had already been done. Occupancy rates dropped to the 20% range and the hospitality industry began to wheel and deal.

Travelling with my girlfriend, Erin, I wanted to keep our budget to about $90 USD per day for the both of us. This meant trying to find reasonable accommodations for about $40. Rates on websites and in guide books indicated this was possible but that most rooms went for much more than that. Word of mouth, however, was telling us that prices were lower now. But we just weren't going to know for sure until we arrived.

We bought two airline tickets. We knew we'd be in the area for about three weeks. Other than that, we'd figure it out as we went, and just hoped our budget would hold up that long.

We packed a couple of backpacks and hopped an overnight flight to Cancun.