Underground Galaxy

 

**Disclaimer: These are not our photos. We were not allowed to take a camera due to safety concerns (apparently selfies are a dangerous thing), so all images are from a Google image search. Don't judge me.**

Clad in a heavy duty wet suit, clunky rubber boots, and a spelunking helmet with headlamp, holding an inner tube to my backside I stand poised. Our tour guide has her hand on my shoulder, her right foot readied to sweep my feet out from under me. This is no way to jump off a waterfall. Especially in a cave, in the dark, into frigid river water.

But this is what we’re paying for. Well that and a silent, floating grand finale through awe-inspiring beauty.

I first visited New Zealand during high school. In hindsight, as an adult, traveling abroad with 30-someodd 17- and 18-year-olds sounds like a chaperone’s nightmare. Putting on my adult pants again, I can state with certainty that I did not appreciate the experience half as much as I should have. Teenagers are like that, I suppose. One of the things that did stick with me, through the quagmire of teenage drama that overwhelmed the entire trip, was the absolute, jaw-dropping beauty of the North Island’s glowworm caves.

Returning to New Zealand, I insisted that this be included on our list of activities for the trip. Not one to repeat experiences entirely, and based on the recommendations of numerous friends, we went the action adventure route to exploring Waitomo Caves. This meant doing something called Black Water Rafting. The name is a misnomer of sorts. The activity itself is more like underground cave river tubing, but I guess that’s a less catchy name.

Once again I have to say a little thank you to the humans who invented wet suits. Silly though we may have looked (we looked absurd, sorry for the lack of pictures of us specifically), with the exception of paddling with bare hands, the icy water that would sneak up sleeves, and the handful of backward leaps off waterfalls the sent us plunging and bobbing momentarily, we stayed relatively warm.

Despite learning that the “glowworms” are actually just fly larvae trying to catch a meal in the dark using bioluminescence, despite the cold water and the clumsy scrambling and occasional missteps involved in making our way through the caves, when the group of us daisy chained together and turned off our headlamps, none of it mattered.

An entire group of people struck speechless by beauty is a phenomenal thing. Floating silently through the caves was liked drifting downstream under a clear night’s sky in the high mountains, Milky Way poured out before you. Only in this case, it’s much closer, a tiny galaxy of blue-tinged stars almost within reach.

I understand why we weren’t allowed to take pictures. Not only are there no pictures that do the experience justice, but I don’t think we could reasonably have taken pictures in such an awe-struck state and also paid any attention to what we were doing as we made our way through the caves. 

Just Add Water

Of incredible and awe-inspiring natural beauty, Guatemala has its fair share. The views and mountainscapes are second to none; so much so that at one point in our travels northward, we took five local buses in one day, including four hours bouncing down a dirt road, just to take the scenic route. It is vast and grand and, at times, overwhelming.

On the smaller scale, central Guatemala has some impressive natural formations. Among these are a number of cave and river systems of exhaustive beauty.

Among these natural phenomena, Semuc Champey wears the crown. Pools of varying sizes and shades of turquoise (who knew it had more than one shade?) send river water spilling from tier to tier, as the primary river takes an underground detour.

Another marvel of the shapes nature creates, a nearby cave system sprawls through Guatemala’s mountainous Alta Verapaz region. Serving as sacred sites for past and present Mayans, the caves’ stalactite and stalagmite residents sprout from floor and ceiling.

It is truly amazing the spectrum of creations that arises when Mother Nature has the help of water, minerals, and time.

Ancient Cities: Dambulla

Well-endowed with World Heritage Sites, Sri Lanka is home to a cluster of ancient cities, palace ruins, and incredible old Buddhist temples and monasteries, each with its own unique draw. First on our quest through the ancient cities, due to its proximity to Kandy: Dambulla.

The town of Dambulla is nothing more than a handful of shops, homestays, and “cool spots” (places with cold beverages and the possibility of food), as well as a slew of tuk-tuks, most of which have sprung up due to interest in the Cave Temples.

The Cave Temples are basically two separate temples, one new, one old. At the base of a hill, a flashy new Buddhist temple flaunts a lion-mouth entrance, a museum, and is topped with a giant, seated Buddha. The signs claim that at 30 meters tall it is the tallest Buddha statue in the world, but in reality it isn’t even close, although it is still impressively imposing.

Beyond this temple, a flight of stairs rises swiftly up the hillside. Vendors selling overpriced ice cream, water and souvenirs line the stairways, seeking refuge in what little shade is available.  They are joined by clusters of stray dogs, as well as hordes of chattering, curious families of monkeys.

Upon reaching the summit and removing our shoes, we made the scalding run across the sun-heated stones to reach the temples’ modern entranceways. While the Sri Lankans, after years of walking barefoot on scorching earth, strolled casually, I was forced to run from one patch of shade to another. (This turned out to be a common theme at the majority of Sri Lanka’s holy sites.)

Inside each of the cave temples, cool and damp without the midday sun, resided numerous Buddha statues and images, the size, number and positions tailored to each specific space. The care with which the caves had been converted into temples was evident in the details. Miniature dagobas filled empty spaces, and the soles of the reclining Buddha's feet were elaborately decorated. The ceilings undulated with geometric paintings, and many Buddhas had been built directly into the rock facades. 

Strikingly different from the temples we typically encounter in Thailand, Dambulla's Cave Temples were certainly worth the hillside stair climb. Although, as we would come to find out, in a country that values altitude among its holy cities, a mere ten to fifteen minutes worth of stairs is nothing.

Motorbike Exploration

Chiang Rai is in no way lacking for things to do. If you look at a map of the area around Chiang Rai, there are dozens of dots strewn about – temples, waterfalls, caves, an elephant camp, hill tribe villages. A recent visit from friend from New Mexico served as the perfect opportunity to spend a lazy Saturday on motorbikes, exploring the areas around Chiang Rai.

Win and I had our motorbike, Jenny and Ansel had one rented for several days. Our itinerary was ambitious, but plausible: the nearby Buddha Cave, a waterfall, the Black Temple, and the longneck Karen tribe.

The air was heavy and wet, the sun forcing the moisture into the air, but moving along on the motorbike the breeze was cool. We took a circuitous route through rice paddies and open fields, past the prison, eventually winding up and around jungle hills. It involved a heavy amount of guesswork, as maps in Asia aren’t especially nuanced, and therefore often prove themselves to be somewhere between confusing and useless. One roadside fuel fill-up (poured from repurposed whiskey bottles) and several wrong turns later, we found the cave we were looking for.

Stray dogs lounged about on the steep staircase, but let us pass with little worry. Set in the side of a lone rock formation jutting from the rice paddies, the Buddha cave was inhabited by all manner of Buddha statues. Reclining, seated, standing, small medium and large. Even placed in gaps and natural skylights in the ceiling, there were Buddhas galore. And, the part I found most delightful, a number of stray cats lazed around, basking in pools of sun, and absorbing the quiet calm of their cave home.

After once again consulting the map, we ventured out, waterfall-bound. Now, there are a number of waterfalls in the greater Chiang Rai region, so once we found our way to the main road and the right general direction, we simply started following signs. Left, right, up, down, through residential neighborhoods, hill tribe communities, and lush, green jungle. Often, we would lose the signs and have to guess our way along, but the signs would almost always pick up again. The road meandered and wove through beautiful, diverse scenery, taking its time as it led us along.

It wasn’t the waterfall we were aiming for, but we found a waterfall. We headed off across a rickety suspension bridge over a river, assuming it would lead somewhere, which it didn’t. So we crossed back over the bridge, careful to avoid precarious or dangling boards. 

Then we tried the trail with long, flat steps leading up small patches of bamboo forest. The Thais seem to build staircases to any and all natural or man-made points of interest, so it was a brief, easy trek to get there.  It also wasn’t overly impressive, the water murky brown from the season’s high rains, but it was still a waterfall.

After a quick stop by a hilltribe museum --just one room filled with old tools, clothing, and accessories used by the local people -- and an attempted drive to a view point, which ended with us rolling backward down the hill, skid marks spooling out before us, we were ready for the second half of our adventure.

Then, it started to rain. And not just a little. I’m talking about the rains that wash, dump, and flood Thailand many afternoons during the (aptly named) rainy season. With Jenny and Ansel not being used to driving motorbikes or Thai traffic, let alone when complicated by monsoon rains, we figured it was time to throw in the metaphorical towel. Second half, canceled. It was a rain delay of the monsoon variety. We arrived home soaked and ready for an afternoon nap. 

So, it looks like Win and I will just have to postpone the Black Temple and Karen Tribe until we are feeling ambitious and touristy, or until some other friends come visit us.