WHITEWATER RAFTING ON BALI'S MIGHTY AYUNG RIVER

A very long time ago I used to work for ARTA, a non-profit corporation dedicated to preserving wild rivers, a goal they work towards by bringing people on whitewater rafting trips. I used to love it and I had wild, raucous trips on the Rogue River in Oregon, the Salmon in Idaho, and the Tuolumne and American Rivers in California. Oh, but that was a long, long time ago. I wasn't looking for wild, raucous times when I decided to go to peaceful, groovey Bali. And my companions, Rebecca and Brad, were even more determinably dedicated to peace and harmony and then I was. Brad's so full of peace and harmony that he'll pretty much agree to anything good. And Rebecca... well, she was less sure about whitewater but liked the idea of the pretty, peaceful jungle the river went through. And, besides, she was looking forward to a quid pro quo elephant safari later in the week.

Our trusty driver, the aforementioned Anwar, made all the arrangements with a rafting company called Sobek. (That's not a detail I'd usually remember but a few years earlier Roland and I had spent a month on a Nile cruise and we kept going to temples dedicated to Sobek, the crocodile god and I'm afraid of crocodiles so I remembered.) Anyway, Anwar had drove us way up the Ayung for a couple hours to where the rafting company had their headquarters in Begawan. We got all geared up and then climbed down and down and down through the incredibly beautiful rain forest to the rver bank. I kept thinking about what a drag it was gonna be walking back up from the river bank when we got to Kedewatan, about 7-8 miles down the river.

Once we got to the boats, the guides divided us into crews of about 8 people. Of course, at first everyone was all stiff and kind of hoping to not get too wet. That lasted about 5 minutes. They give you some quick dos and don'ts and safety tips and pretty soon we're floating through some gentle, easy water looking at the exquisite scenery. When the rapids come-- there were about 2 dozen in all-- they never get beyond Class III but most people manage to fall overboard at least once or twice; well maybe not most, just the ones who like wild, raucous fun. Eventually everyone is loose as a goose and huge naval battles ensue. So much for peace and harmony. I was all for ramming and drowning. (I think that side of me scared Rebecca a little.)

There were some nice waterfalls and the environment never went below "incredible." The Ayung is the longest river in Bali and the part we were on-- remember a couple hours away our house was also on the Ayung-- runs through an otherwise inaccessible tropical rain forest, which is basically untouched by modern civilization. The guides were great, very professional and fun. It's the kind of thing that can work for anyone too-- I mean small kids or old people do fine (and no one goes overboard who doesn't kind of want to). They serve a lunch afterwards but we knew we had a feast made by the best chef in Bali waiting for us back at our villa so we climbed back up to the road and someone was waiting to take us back home. It's a great way to spend half a day; I think it cost us around $50 each.

MY FAVORITE PLACE ON EARTH-- AFTER HOME: BALI

Because I've traveled so much and to so many places people are always asking me which was my favorite. For many years I would always say that it was a three-way tie between Afghanistan, Sri Lanka and Nepal. These were all places I went between 1969 and 1971, places that blew my young mind. I went back to Sri Lanka in 1996-97 and I've been back to Nepal twice as well. Nepal holds up pretty well-- and I'll be writing about my trips there-- but Sri Lanka... well, long civil wars usually screw places up pretty badly. Afghanistan is still exquisite and pristine in my mind. But since those days I've been to many places and eventually Thailand supplanted my Big 3.

Last year, however, I discovered a place I had never been to but instantly fell in love with: Bali. I'm not a beach kind of guy; I always prefer a shark-free/non-sewage dumping swimming pool to the ocean-- and Bali is a small island famous for beach life. And drunken Australians, another thing of no interest to me. I'm more interested in native culture than sunburn and tourists; always have been. In researching Bali, I soon figured out that as long as you stay away from one little tiny area on the Southeast coast, specifically developed as a tourist ghetto so as not to pollute the island's incredible indigenous culture, you can still be in paradise. (Al Qaeda apparently figured this out too and the bombs you've heard about were all in the tourist ghetto area.)

So I decided to rent a villa in the interior, away from the crowded beach area-- but where? And how? Short answer: a Google search of "Bali + villa" soon brought me to Bali Villas, a great local company that rents out villas to visitors, most of which are owned by wealthy foreigners who only use them a month or two per year. (About 20% of tourists who came to Bali in the last couple of years rented a villa!) The one I rented has 4 bedrooms, lots of common space, a really beautiful swimming pool, 4 incredible people who live in an attached house and do all the work around the place-- including a mind-blowing chef. (She was able to adapt all the traditional Balinese and Indonesian recipes to my dietary restrictions of no sugar and no flour-- and, aside from fish, I'm a vegan; every single meal was MAGNIFICENT.) Also included was a van with a driver, Anwar, who was always there for whatever crazy requests the 4 of us made. I mean, some people love the beach and some love Hindu temples in remote mountains (me) and Anwar worked it all out, always.

Most of the great villas are on or near the beach. Most tourists go to Bali for the beaches. But there are places in the mountains and up near Ubud, the kind of cultural center of the island. Ours overlooked the mighty Ayung River (the photo above was taken from my bedroom terrace) and we never saw another foreigner anywhere nearby for the 3 weeks we were there. We never did find the "village" on a map and it had an impossible, unpronounceable name. It's between Denpasar and Ubud. That link gives all the details, amenities, prices, etc. I'll get into the reasons why I think Bali is the best overall place I ever visited in the next couple of blogs.

THE HORRORS OF DELTA AIRLINES, PART II

After my previous post about what an airborne cesspool Delta has become, Ken wrote a comment that I've heard voiced by many. It's about the whole frequent flyer conundrum, particularly the hope to be able to cash in with a big trip someday. Because I worked as president of a large company and traveled all over for years (in frequent flyer miles-producing first class), both domestically and internationally, I've acquired over a million miles-- and with all the carriers. And the bad news: Delta miles are the closest to worthless of any.

The Independent Traveler has done 2 interesting articles on how useless frequent flyer miles can be. "'I've had a Delta credit card for 10 years, and have never once been able to use the miles to travel,' says Misa Greenwood, who flies approximately once a month. 'They tell me I need to book six months in advance, or that a Saturday night stay is required, or that there are no seats left.' Even for upgrades, Greenwood has been stymied. 'I bought a ticket online, then called Delta to inquire about an upgrade,' she recalls. 'They told me the ticket was not eligible for an upgrade. No free flights, no upgrades; what's the point?'"

I've spent hours and hours and hours on the phone trying to book off-the-beaten path vacations with my Delta Miles. (Damn you, American Express!). I mean look at this blog; I'll go anywhere. And, more often than not-- like by a margin of 10 to 1 or 20 to 1 or more, there is nothing available. And I always plan months and months in advance; and, being retired and without a care in the world, I'm flexible as can be. Once I was on with a Delta agent for at least 2 hours trying to book a vacation-- total flexibility for leaving and returning and a wide number of places I'd be willing to go: Europe (anywhere), India, Thailand, Senegal. Frustrated and exasperated I finally just said to Ms. Robot on the other end of the line, "OK, I'll go anywhere, any class, any time in January or February for approximately one month. Any city. What's available?" Nothing was available.

So, Ken, Helen, everyone else... don't count on a big Delta SkyMiles score. One radio talk show host who does travel talk once said that over 85% of Delta requests are turned down and that although Delta was the worst, the other big U.S. airlines were nearly as bad. Take a look at Consumer Affairs if you're brave enough to hear the bad news about Delta's SkyMiles program. The stories are pretty miserable and when you experience them in real time, they're worse than miserable. And they are standard Delta fare. Flyer Talk ran an interesting piece on the 2005 "evolution" of Delta's SkyMiles program entitled "Are Delta's Frequent Flyer Changes Their Death Knell?"


The most recent Zagat's Guide airline surveyjust came out and it does not paint a pretty picture. The bullet points: "Ratings and Reviews Worst Since Survey Began in 1990; Mid-size and International Carriers Fare Best With Traveling Public; Continental Best Among Disappointing Major U.S. Carriers, JetBlue Up and Coming." They call it "an industry in steep decline" and point out that the U.S. airlines' "relations with customers are so poor, they're fortunate that passengers have few other places to turn."

Perhaps you'd like to see the Full Text of Class-Action Complaint Filed Against Delta class action suit passengers took out against Delta? Even if all the legalese makes your eyes glaze over, the constant stream of Delta flyers' complaints that you can find online always gives the best taste of what you can expect from these not very friendly skies.

IS DELTA THE WORST U.S. AIRLINE ?

Today started well enough. Instead of having to wait for a Delta service rep to get on the line in the normal 30-40 minutes, a friendly human was on within 5 minutes. I was so happy. Well, that was 90 minutes ago. I'm on hold now, still waiting for my problem to be addressed. I won't bore you with the details because the problem really is Delta, not the details of this particular glitch. Delta-- not unlike most of the big U.S. airlines, and not unlike most of corporate America-- is populated by people who are driven by the corporate imperative: profit-über-alles. The corollary, alas, is screw customer service and even safety. Like I said, this seems to fit all the big U.S. airlines. Delta just seems a little worse than the rest.

Sometimes I wonder why Delta is worse than the already excruciatingly bad United or the egregiously horrid American or the woefully foul... etc. Maybe it's because their employees are under so much stress because they are being screwed so miserably by the corporate executives who have wrecked a once perfectly fine airline that I used to actually look forward to flying on-- instead of dreading.

So why bother flying on Delta if I dread it so much? Excellent question-- and of course, there really is no good answer. I have managed to collect many thousands or their nearly worthless and unusable Sky Miles over the years (thanks, American Express; can't you find a reputable airline partner to work with?) And on this particular flight to Spain I decided to try to use some mileage up before the whole company gets flushed down the toilet (as they should). Of course they wouldn't consider ever letting me use the miles for an actual ticket but they did offer to let me use miles for a "first class" upgrade if I bought (a very expensive) ticket. So I did and they did.

First class, LAX to Atlanta. I remember what first class used to be-- even on Delta! This "first class" doesn't even have a foot rest! I mean forget about normal first class amenities that real airlines have or things like seats that go all the way back or actual trained personnel. But even before I got to my crappy and uncomfortable seat, I had to vainly try to use the closet. When the first class passengers board a Delta flight, the crew finds the most forbidding and vicious-looking employee they can to stand in front of the closet and dare you to just try to hang something in it. In the past 3-4 years I've noticed that Delta-- and only Delta-- uses all the hanging space for crew members' bags. This is a major inconvenience if you're traveling with a suit that you would prefer to not have to press when you land. I've written at least half a dozen complaint letters to Delta about this and I've never had any kind of an answer. Once I was on some no-name local airline in India, possibly called Sahara or something unlikely like that, and not only did the crew use up all the closet space, but also all the restroom space. I kid you not-- the front-of-the-plane restroom was unusable because it was filled with big boxes of electronics the crew members were... transporting. Delta hasn't fallen that low... yet.

The second half of my trip-- Atlanta to Madrid-- was slightly better but, please take my word on this: if you woud rate British Air's front of the plane service an "A," as I certainly do, it would be impossible to rate Delta any more than a "D" in comparison-- and I'm being very generous there. Delta's transatlantic front of the plane (I shudder to remember, but I think they called it "Business Elite") service has more-- far more-- in common with a Greyhound trip than it does with the service one can safely expect from almost any European carrier-- and they even make American and United look good! If the flight attendants went to school at all, it was to learn how to piss off the customers. The closets, of course, were verboten for passengers. The food was... excruciatingly bad-- as were the seats. It did, however, almost land on time.

Do you know anyone who likes flying on Delta? I don't. Everyone I know hates it. And there was a time when Delta was the airline of choice inside the U.S. Perhaps if they just thought a little about treating their stressed out employees right and then got a grasp on what actual customer service means, they wouldn't be in bankruptcy today.

SRI LANKA, PART 3: THE CULTURAL TRIANGLE-- AND OUR FINAL CLOSE ENCOUNTER

To be honest, I not a big beach person. I'm afraid of sharks, not a huge sunburn fan and I've read so much about sewage being dumped into the oceans, that I tend to prefer a nice saltwater (non-chlorine) swimming pool. HOWEVER, I do make some exceptions-- and the beaches of Sri Lanka (and Phuket) are way high up on that list of exceptions. But after a week or so of relaxing on the south coast beaches of Sri Lanka, we were ready for the cultural heartland. Sri Lanka is a tropical country; it's always hot. We were there in December/January and that's probably slightly cooler-- though not noticeably so-- but it is in the midst of the West and East coasts' dry season. The hill country is always a bit cooler, very pleasantly so and a bit wetter.

I was eager to get to Kandy because I had such fond memories of the place from 1970. But our first stop was Nuwara Eliya in the beautiful, hilly tea-growing area. Basically it is green, green, green-- lush and gorgeous-- kind of manicured jungle-- and you're up in the clouds. We stayed at a grand old colonial hotel, St. Andrew's, which had the ambiance of a lodge or a gentleman's club. The service was impeccable-- and never uptight; just right. And whoever was preparing the food, obviously cared about pleasing, even titillating, the people being fed. And the place was embarrassingly inexpensive, probably because it is so off the beaten path. A little further off the path I saw an ayurvedic "day spa" and decided to avail myself of its services. What a treat; again, the prices were astoundingly low and the service... well, it couldn't possibly be any better. If I was as much of a naturalist health freak then as I am now, I probably would have stayed for a few days. But we pushed on to Kandy.

Kandy is in the center of the island and about 1600 feet above sea level. The setting is beautiful and the vibe is pretty laid back. It was the capital of the country before the Brits took over early in the 19th century and was and is the cultural capital of the Sri Lankans, or at least of the Sinhalese. We stayed at an old (and perhaps once grand) hotel called The Suisse Hotel across the lake, more of less, from the Temple of the Tooth. The hotel was delightful in a charmingly run-down sort of way. I remember big, stately public rooms and wide, shady, comfortable verandahs. The individual accommodations were nothing to write home about except to say that it was so inexpensive that it was mind-boggling. And the food was excellent; they were serious about the service. If you're fussy and anal this might not be the hotel for you-- but in 1997 there probably wasn't a hotel in Kandy for you. I don't know if they've put up a Best Western or Hilton in now, although I would doubt it. With virtually no business and no beach, wealthy Westerners probably aren't as drawn to Kandy as they should be. We didn't do much of anything except live the Kandy life as much as we could, meeting people, hanging around the Temple of the Tooth, that kind of thing. (Steve is on his way to start his new job at Shambhala in Colorado today-- driving across the U.S.-- and I just called him on his cell and asked him what he remembers of our trip, 10 years ago, to Kandy and the Lankan cultural triangle. He didn't remember a lot more than I did but he says we were the only tourists in town. He had a great run-in with an elephant near the Temple of the Tooth and Roland claims to have a copy and I'll try to post it if I can.)

After a 3 relaxing, blissful days in mellow, languid, very friendly, very Buddhist Kandy, we headed north to where all the ancient sites are. Somehow we wound up driving down a windy, bumpy dirt road in the middle of nowhere that brought us to our hotel in Dambulla, the Kandalama. This is the kind of place people must helicopter in to and just have their whole holiday in the hotel. It's a "green hotel," meaning at one with the natural environment. And it was sort of carved into the cliffs of a mountain, overlooking a spectacular lake/wildlife preserve. All three of us remember having showers and looking out a floor to ceiling window that overlooked the lake and watching the elephants shower themselves while the monkeys watching us showering ourselves. There is nothing like the Kandalama in Sri Lanka. We kept asking ourselves how it had gotten there. It was incredibly modern and beautiful and pretty much the opposite of funky. The memory of the infinity pool that looked down on the lake was something that I have never gotten out of my mind.

Dambulla and nearby Sigirya were the places we visited from the Kandalama; I remember a lot of climbing around in the hot sun. Dambulla have this huge incredible ancient cave with so many Buddha images it made my head spin. It was really beautiful and well worth the strenuous schlepp up the mountain. Nearby Sigirya is this big flat-topped rock that was transformed into an impregnable fortress over a thousand years ago. What you see now is the ruins of a gigantic citadel. One day isn't enough time, nor is only one day in slightly more further afield Polannaruwa, another place with really impressive ruins. Our last day in the cultural triangle, and the furthest north we ventured in Sri Lanka was Anuradhapura, the largest and the oldest of the ancient towns. And, at least when we were there, the most dangerous. It wasn't crocs or sharks or snakes this time, but Tamil rebels we had to fear. In fact I don't remember much about Anuradhapura because of how uptight all the security was. It was really the only time we were in Sri Lanka-- other than when we passed the wreck of a recently blown-up building in Colombo-- that we could feel we were in the midst of a civil war. I remember visiting the scared bodhi tree and some monk telling us that in the very spot where we were doing some prayers some Tamil rebels has shot and killed a bunch of pilgrims a few days before. I think we saw some remnants of blood. And then we decided to go to Thailand.

We stopped at Negombo first. After the glorious wonders of the southern beaches, this village north of Colombo was a big turn off. It was filled with package tour holidayers from Europe and there wasn't really much charming about it. The hotel sucked. When we went back to Colombo to catch the plane to Thailand we stayed at the big modern hotel, the Hilton. It was pretty luxurious compared to what we had gotten used to-- and still just around $100 for a double. The airport security was a nightmare, but not all that different from what security has turned into in the U.S. lately-- but, of course, they were in a real war, not a war on terror invented by Karl Rove to prop up George Bush's calamitous presidency and to excuse his illegal excesses.

FAST FORWARD 3 DECADES AND INSTEAD OF CEYLON, IT'S SRI LANKA

I know for sure that in my mind and in my tales, I had painted a picture of Ceylon as an earthly paradise. I certainly remembered it that way from the month I spent there in 1970. So for some of my friends, it also became a place of their dreams, especially for my adventurous friends, in this case, good old Roland and a new character (new to this blog, anyway), Steve, both of whom decided to join me for a trip there in 1997.

Actually, Roland and I flew there and Steve met up with us-- almost randomly, in Kandy, after a couple weeks. First off, Sri Lanka is about as far away as you can go and still be on earth. I remember the plane trip there in terms of days instead of hours. We flew on Cathay Pacific, one of my over-all favorite airlines-- like just below B.A.-- but no matter how good the airline, even in first class, a plane trip this long is a nightmare.

When we got to Colombo I was a physical mess from the flight. Scorning the corporate modernity of the Intercontinental, I opted for the (faded) grandeur and glory of the dowager of Colombo hotels, the Galle Face, which was built during the Civil War-- the American Civil War! I remembered back to 1970 when I used to park my van nearby and sneak in to use its luxurious facilities, and dream that someday I might be able to stay in such an august and venerable establishment. I usually tend to opt for that kind of hotel over a newer flashier one. (Like everyone I know who goes to Milan prefers the incredible dynamite newish Four Seasons Milan Hotel to the traditionally best hotel in town, the Principe di Savoia-- except me; I almost always like the traditions and Old World charms of this kind of establishment.) Unfortunately, Colombo didn't quite fit into that box.

Now, I notice on their website that the Galle Face underwent a much-needed facelift in 2005. When we arrived late one night in 1999, bedraggled and exhausted from the planes, we dragged ourselves up to the room and barely noticed the antiquity (not antiques, oldness). It wasn't just a little (understandable) mustiness either. Everything was too small, like built for little people in the 1800s. There was a sink in the room and when I woke up the next morning I had to bend down so low to brush my teeth that I totally pulled my back out! Since basically no improvements have been made to the country's infrastructure (read: roads) since (their) civil war started, I knew bumping along pot-holed roads with a screwed up back would be no fun.

Fortunately, the hotel directed me to "the blind masseur," who was reputed to have magical abilities. I figured he must be good because he was the masseur who was used by the mother/daughter team who were the President and Prime Minister of Sri Lanka at the time: Sirimavo Bandaranaike and Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga. I also figured he must go to them once I was in his establishment which had the distinct vibe of a house of ill-repute. He gave me a great massage and I later found out-- from Roland, of course, who was "waiting"-- that it was indeed a house of ill repute!

To be honest, Sri Lanka's many much-ballyhooed charms aren't in Colombo and we were soon bouncing along the roads, which were noticeably worse than they were in 1970; wars'll do that to a country. We headed south in a rental car. And south from Colombo means one thing: beautiful tropical beaches without compare. I think the first one we came to that I recalled from my 1970 trip was Hikkaduwa. It was nicer in my youthful memories but it was still ok-- just a gorgeous beach, maybe a little too touristy for my tastes. We stayed in a charmless motel-type hotel right on the beach so that was cool. All the charm was the proximity to the ocean, the palm trees, the blue, blue skies... We met a monk who was very friendly and showed us his hut.

The only really unpleasant thing about Hikkaduwa that I recall was when we hired a boat to show us the coral reefs. The guy was a real doofus who seemed to actually take delight in smashing off pieces of coral. Roland and I both freaked out and told him to take us back to the beach. But the freak beached the boat on a huge coral reef. I mean it had taken thousands of years for this to grow and he was smashing it to bits in minutes. He told me to get out of the boat and give it a push. The coral is razor sharp and my feet immediately started bleeding. Right then the coral reef protection police saw him and started screaming into a megaphone. He actually took off and left me bleeding on the coral reef. Roland was still in the boat. I had my snorkel mask on. I painfully made it to the edge of the coral and jumped in the water and decided to swim back to shore through the labyrinth of the most gorgeous living coral environment I had ever experienced. It blew my mind. Unfortunately, as I navigated through the schools of incredibly beautiful fish and the colorful coral corridors, every now and then I'd see a real big fish, big enough to be a shark. And then I would remember about my bleeding tootsies and how bleeding tootsies attract sharks. I'm more afraid of sharks and crocodiles than anything else in the world. I managed to hold down the panic and eventually get back to the beach. I filed a formal police complaint against the boat operator.

After a couple of very relaxed days we headed further down the coast. We stopped for an hour in the historic old colonial town of Galle; nice. Then we went to a relatively secluded beach town, more up my alley: Tangalla. I think we were pretty much the only tourists in town. It's a real paradise, very tropical and peaceful with an undisturbed beach. We stayed in some weird bizarro hotel shaped like a boat. We went swimming in a secluded bay-- just us and some Lankan kids in a big truck tire-- and found a big cow bone. I seem to recall that we didn't eat in restaurants per se but in people's homes who prepare fresh food for passersby. The food was the best. I would have been happy staying there for the whole time but after a few days we headed further down the coast to Hambantota.

It's not as lush and green as you head east along to coast, although I remember passing a swamp filled with the biggest array of birds I'd ever seen just before we got to Hambantota. Hambantota is a little misty in the ole mind except for a few very vivid memories. I think the hotel we stayed in-- a dump-- was called the Suisse Hotel. An entire wing of it seemed to have been abandoned to a huge colony of bats which would come flying through the hallways-- much to the delight of everyone (all locals)-- around dusk everyday. There were a couple of Germans, a couple of Frenchmen and me and Roland staying there. They didn't need the other wing. The hotel was right near the huge expansive beach which was so pure and beautiful and-- as we soon found out-- thoroughly treacherous. We had heard the best diving in Sri Lanka was just east of Hambantota. The "just" was something we should have paid more attention to. You're going to think I'm exaggerating when I tell you that the undertow was so powerful that before I was in the ocean barely above my ankles I was being swept out to sea. I never experienced such an awesome force of nature before (other than once when I was in an empty field in Afghanistan and there was an earthquake).

Anyway, that pretty much put an end to our swimming adventures on the south coast of Sri Lanka. We decided to spend the day at the Bundala National Park instead. We hired two guys and a jeep for our own little safari and we were really happy with how pristine the scrubby jungle was-- tons of birds and monkeys and little deer. We were lovin' it. Then one guide told us to come with him down a path on foot while the driver waited in the jeep. He brought us to what looked like the original Garden of Eden, a lake that appeared to have never been in contact with humanity. The birds were singin', the monkeys were chattering; there were elephants on the other end of the lake spraying water on eachother. Can you imagine how beautiful it looked and sounded? And then a tiny spotted deer approached the lake. He was as big as a large dog and maybe 5 or 6 feet from me, a little tentative at first, watching us but when he saw we made no aggressive moves towards him he stuck his face in the lake for a drink. What happened next took one second-- considerably quicker than my description. The whole forest exploded in sound like a nuclear bomb blast. The monkeys went ape-shit; the birds were yellin' their heads off and flying around like madmen and the imperturbably happy-go-lucky elephants started trumpeting excitedly. Roland and I lost our breath. A gigantic crocodile came flying out of the lake and in one movement grabbed the deer, sank back into the lake, rolled over once and disappeared.

The guide noticed our discomfiture and started kicking the water to attract more crocodiles. We scurried up the bank and blindly started running out of the jungle, forgetting that Sri Lanka is the snake bite capital of the world. When we were al back safely in the (open) jeep the guide told the driver to drive along the non-jungle side of the lake and scare the sunning crocs by getting real close to their tails. I wasn't happy about the jaunty angle the jeep was at and was completely terrified. I was delighted to get back to our own car and head up into the highlands. As we headed away from Hambantota we passed a snake bigger than me slithering down the road. Half a kilometer on we saw two little barefoot girls in school uniforms walking down the road in his direction. I'll get into part 2 of my Sri Lanka adventure in a day or two.

OMG! HOW DID I FORGET SEVILLA!! (I DIDN'T)

Seville has been one of my favorite places in Spain since I started visiting that country in the late 60s. Except for the times that I was strictly on business in Madrid or on a short vacation in Barcelona or Ibiza (while I was living in Holland), I always went out of my way to include Sevilla in my itinerary. The capital of Andalusia has a unique and beautiful ambiance that very clearly marks it as special and alluring. In December we took a train to warm and sunny Sevilla (and Cordoba) on the way from chilly Madrid to Morocco. The express from Cordoba takes 45 minutes.

I had decided to make the big hotel splurge for this trip Sevilla's Alfonso XIII, a hotel that was built specifically (in 1928) to be the grandest and most luxurious hotel in Europe. Nearly 80 years later and it still is truly awesome.
Sometimes it seems as though all the grandest sights of Sevilla were placed around the hotel-- from the beautiful Guadalquivir River to the Cathedral (the world's biggest gothic structure and the 3rd largest church in Europe) to the breathtaking 14th century Alcazar, Europe's oldest royal residence still in use. The rack rates are prohibitive (starting at around $500 for a double) but the Alfonso is a Westin Hotel and my old corporate travel agent was able to work wonders with a great discount and a spectacular upgrade. Everything about the hotel bespeaks value for your money, something I like. I mean it went beyond the most beautifully and luxuriously appointed rooms of the whole trip; the Alfonso even has the best, most professional, knowledgeable and empathetic concierge we ran into on the trip.

Everywhere you look within walking distance from the Alfonso is just spectacular. We ate up the tourist sites like the Cathedral and especially the Alcazar and loved walking around the Barrio de Santa Cruz (the old Jewish ghetto that is now a charming, vibrant functioning medieval town within the city). If you want the best in Seville, there is no other choice besides the Alfonso. Restaurant-wise, on the other hand, you have a lot of great choices-- chefs that are serious about catering to regular clients, not thinking about how to feed transients. On a couple of past trips I had tried the Egana Oriza, probably Sevilla's best eatery, and loved it but this time we decided to decided to give a less well-known place a shot. The Poncio (Calle Victoria 8 in the Triana District) is on the other side of the river and a bit of a trek by foot-- but that's partly why we chose it. Both of us love walking around cities and feeling the pulse of daily life.

The chef, Willy Moya, came to our table and we talked for a while about what we wanted in a general sense and he was able to recommend an incredible dinner for each of us. He's an inventive and brilliant chef and this was one of our best meals in Spain. Roland is still raving about some wild baked ice cream and olive oil concoction he scarfed down and was swearing he had just had the best wine in his life (although he tended to say that about every meal). I was pretty surprised that the cost was about half of what a meal like that is in a comparable Madrid restaurant.

The main bus stop is walking distance from the Alfonso and we took the bus to Algeciras to catch the ferry to Tangier. It was all easy to arrange and completely hassle-free.