Once a year I sit myself down at a desk and try to put a finger on the reason I take pictures. A sort of exercise in self-reflection the answer to which changes ever so often. I find taking pictures is less about capturing the moment and more about realizing how that split moment has changed you. I’m always looking for ways for a subject that changes me into something / somebody else. “What will change me next” is what I’m thinking. May be everybody is looking for the same thing, something that changes them in infinitesimally small ways - for when you are changed you haven’t changed the world but the world has changed you.

The advantage of populating your blog with pictures is that come year end you know exactly what you’ve been up to throughout the year. Let us take a look.

[ALSO SEE : 2006 The Blog that was ]

January



Listened to Celestine, in her purple sari as she sings me some Songs of Korlai, in a lost Portuguese of the Konkan.

She sat us down just in front of the altar of Korlai’s old church and picked up a worn out looking note book from one of the drawers. As we settled down on one of the creaky benches of this old church she began to sing. In an aging baritone words curled out with a beautiful melody. This was the song of Korlai, a song in ancient Kristi.

“Maldita Maria Madulena,
Maldita firmosa,
Ai, contra ma ja foi a Madulena,
Vastida de mata!”

Which when loosely translated into English means :

Cursed Maria Madalena,
Cursed Beautiful one,
Oh, against my will it was Madalena,
Dressed in leaves and branches!

This was a haunting song about Maria Madelena; the song just like the language it was sung in are mere Ghosts of Portugal in Maharashtra soon to disappear.





Glistening pomfret and Smoldering beedis, Ferry Warf, Mazgaon, is a daring mix of the bright colours of the machiwalli’s saris, dried salted fish, and the flowing melt of sea-scented blocks of ice. It smells of diesel exhaust and fish guts. The visuals are of glistening pomfret and smoldering beedis; drying bombils and piles of prawns; of turbulence in the Arabian Sea, and the squid-ink backwaters; and the air fills with crude fish-talk Marathi that end with profanities chewed up and spat into the mucky sea like the red gutka (chewing tobacco) that stains the city walls.

February




The Women of Akbarpura, a look at Microfinance in rural Rajasthan

The business plans backed by micro financiers tend to be breathtakingly simple. Take Zaina Begum, a successful micro-entrepreneur in Akbarpura. Zaina runs a tiny chai stand by the Alwar-Jaipur highway usually catering to truckers and villager alike. The place cost almost nothing to build: roughly-hewn bamboo props up a ceiling of thatch and old dustbin liners and there are no walls to speak of. The menu is unpretentious. “We only serve chai and biscuits,” she says. By taking out a series of small loans from her local Self help group (SHG) and the NABARD Zaina was able to source her tea wholesale rather than retail. She now employs three people, has repaid most of her loans, and swaggers around town on a second-hand Luna.




Nominated and won the Best Indibloggies Photoblog thingie and a photo-essay published in HT [below].





March





Flower Flower, In this congregated mass of humanity there is colour so vibrant and aromas so powerful that it would match that of any perfumery in the world. Eyes drown in the colour and your nose in the fragrance of a million flowers all stacked in baskets in multitude. A kaleidoscope for your senses. Dadar Phulgalli [flower-lane] takes your traditional Bombay smells of sweat, toil, paint, iron and turns them into the smell of marigolds.. Wipe your brow and you find petals in addition to sweat.



Varanasi, The Eternal Paradox

It is now time to find the Ganges and when I do I sit myself on one of the many steep steps that make up Dashashvamedh ghat, the main bathing ghat that also bears witness to the aarti in the evening. Of the lakhs of pilgrims that come to Varanasi each year, many of them will stop to bathe here first. The city’s waterfront stretches out on either side, a long curve of the river bend made into a series (eighty or so) of stepped waterfront ghats, each with a tall fleet of steps from the Ganges to the level of the city’s winding streets. The ghats are the theatres of life that bring the magic of Varanasi to life; you can stroll the entire three kilometer stretch over a whole day and never be bored. As I sit here sipping on my chai(tea) in a kulhurh (earthen pot) watching pilgrims bathe, they stand in my sight, waist-deep in the glistening water at a distance of perhaps a few unwound sarees. In unison they cup the river in their hands and then let it stream down their face. I imagine it is lukewarm, filmed with soap, oil and Himalayan alluvial, water that both soils and cleans at the same time just like the city it flows in.



A picture of mine was published on the cover of a Saturday edition of the Daily Telegraph.


April



A visit to Mumbai's Dhobhi Ghat.

Standing in a foot of soapy water in each of these cells is the Dhobi –the laundryman– and he swings the piece of clothing he is washing over his head to hit a flagstone at the base of his pen. He has the action of an old-style lumberjack cutting wood with a long handle hatchet. Laundry from all over Mumbai comes here and it occurs to me that maybe later one of those Dhobis will be flogging a light canvas jeans with a strange but unusually attractive hole in them. Each dhobhi pen or vat is connected with the drainage line. The vat is filled with soapy water. The Dhobi Ghat has about 750 stones and at about 1000 clothes per stone per day it works out to about 7.5 lakh clothes daily.


May



The Lost City of Vasai.

Trees and bushes block every trail. The ruins you can see are draped in moss and creepers, their walls dangerously pregnant with pepal shoots. There are other ruins the forest has swallowed whole. The state transport bus from Vasai Road station dropped me close to a ruin where fishermen were mending nets. Only the walls and a vaulted roof, at the far end of the building, remain. Two raised platforms under the vaulted portion suggest this was a church. The walls have slits like windows that make you imagine them as stained glass windows.




Calcutta Coffee House.

Here under the high whirling ceiling fans and in the environs of these fading mildew covered brown walls sit tragic young writers, Marxists, philosophers, students, economists and now IT workers with puff-pastry egos; the air was thick with philosophical rantings as dense as the number on their glasses . More than any other coffeehouse, perhaps, the Kolkata's Coffee House exemplified the the Antelle attitude, a monument to the glory of Calcutta and its uplifting elixir, caffeine and the rich conversation it spewed.


June

June is the month of the Monsoons in India. 3750km. Auto-rickshaw. Through the Himalayas. Yes, we have completely lost it. No, not the auto-rickshaw. Yes we drove a toaster on 3 wheels from Calcutta to Manali across the Himalayas through Nepal.



1. Learn how to ride a Auto-Rickshaw.



Shez, in her guestpost writes us a rickshaw riding 101.

2. Launched Teesra.org

The pictures followed.



June



More Rickshaw Runs adventures in Kathmandu.

Tanks full, jerry cans filled we continued our descent into the Nepalli capital, to Thamel to what our guidebook described as “the intersection of Hippiedom and Hinduism, where Haight-Ashbury meets the Himalayas.”

We spent the next day in Kathmandu exploring the old city, Saira resting in the hotel parking lot – catching a cherished glimpse of the Kumari, or living goddess, a prepubescent girl who was consigned to the upper-floor temple room where she was served as a flesh and blood incarnation of divinity. The pack roamed Durbar square; Neha in her curiousness quizzing our tour guide, Shez playing with smiling children and hatching silent dreams of opening orphanages in the Nepalli country side and me in the corner following them both sheepishly taking pictures of course.



Angkor First Impressions

Just before dawn, the towers of Angkor Wat are ink shadows etched under the paling indigo of blue of the tropical night. The first hint of dawn washes the sky with pink and reveals the mist wreathing the stones. The sun rises behind the temple’s luxuriant forest, and the first rays gild the pinnacle of the central sanctuary. Gradually the light slides down the towers, bathing the walls and galleries, and strengthens from apricot to gold as the sun enriches the spectrum until the great monument glows from within. It is a transcendental experience.



Fragrance and Spice Khmer Style

The streets in Cambodia are littered with street hawkers selling their particular dish – from fried noodles to baguettes to charcoal-grilled meats and fresh fruit and ice-cream - from hand-carts or from baskets dangling from a shoulder pole. My next snack is never far. When in search for a cheap meal I find myself a market – which I find comes with an entire coterie of food stalls each selling their own specialty dishes – noodles soups, rice dumplings and rice porridge. Turn a corner and I'll find meat being grilled on charcoal, to be served with a spicy raw papaya salad and herbs, best downed with an Angkor Beer.



I was on the receiving end of some Khmer Boxing.

Again they ran toward each other, locked up, and spent the next three minutes exchanging knees, one-for-one. Again, they did the same routine. I've never seen anything like it. Their chests were pulped like raw meat, but they didn't seem to care. It was a test of fortitude to see who could remain standing. The fight over, they exchanged smiles and shook hands, the gloves were off and we went on a series of warm-up exercises.



Floating Villages of the Tonle Sap

I fell in love with the elemental power and beauty of the waterways of Cambodia . An entrancing waterlogged world, a stream so abundant and all-providing, a true river of life for its millions. Crisscrossing its pale-brown waterways on flitting boats and ferries, I was moved by the grace and purpose of people absorbed in its amphibious rhythms: journeying, planting, harvesting and netting.

August



A middle-aged Khmer women walks past the row cells at Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. The Heart of Darkness.

By the time we got to the three rooms whose walls were lined with photos of the victims I was numb. Looking at the faces of thousands of Cambodian men, women and children I searched for something that might tell me their story. The Khmer Rouge had been meticulous in keeping records of their acts, including these photos of each of their victims, which now act as a chilling reminder that real people suffered and died here.





My time in Phnom Penh.

I'm staying on the first floor of the Hotel Renakse, a bright yellow neo-classical French building looking out at the Royal Palace. As you walk out you notice the streets of Phnom Penh do not have traffic signals; instead, uniformed policemen stand on raised metal boxes, in the intersection directing the sometimes chaotic flow of traffic. I've found my favorite way to travel in Phnom Penh is by cyclos. They're the opposite of cycle-rickshaw in India as they pretty much resemble a wide wheel chair attached to a cycle. You just take a seat and pay the driver to wheel around the city as you bounce and laugh as the driver pedals you the congested city streets.

September



Hanging House of Cuenca

Cuenca is an ancient city with a 12th-century core. In 1177, Alfonso VIII “liberated” it from the Moors, and the construction of a central cathedral began. While quaint and, occasionally, exquisite Cuenca is a town from most tourist itineraries, a hidden jewel. The city lies at the heart of Castile-La Mancha, the sparsely populated central section of the country. The romance here is literary: this is the Spain of Cervantes and “Don Quixote.”

As I reclined in my chair and nursed my beer I’am reminded of the first line of Cervantes’s classic Don Quixote de la Mancha

“In a village in La Mancha (whose name I do not care to recall) there lived, not very long ago, one of those gentlemen who keeps a lance in the lance-rack, an ancient shield, a skinny old horse, and a fast greyhound”

Cuenca could very well be that proverbial village in La Mancha unchanged, preserved in limestone.


October



More Ricksha' Trippin' stories :)

November



I chronicle my short visits to the largest garbage dump in Knee Deep in Stung Meanchey, Cambodia

'I'm looking for something good, something I can sell,'' the boy said one day as he poked his stick in a small mound, strewn with crushed milk cartons, detergent and condoms. ''I know it's difficult work, but I want to help my family. I need to help my family



On the Sets of Bollywood

Phew !!! That pretty much concludes my year in Pictures. It's been an eventful year and I hope 2008 is as eventful. Happy Holidays and Thank you
for reading.

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Hanging from branches, rattling in the November breeze you see them everywhere. They look like terracotta horses. Closely resembling a stick figure stallion your 4-year old would draw - a cylinder for a body, stick like legs with a protruding giraffe-like head. Terracotta horses on a limestone hill, pieces of clay with messages saddled on them.



Faith makes people do strange things.




The limestone cave I gazed up at during my visit to the bizarre Panchmahal region of eastern Gujarat was carved out of a soaring rock formation by a Tribal prince tens of centuries ago. I began to claw my way up the volcanic limestone rock past more horses and jumping langurs. There were few footholds, and the surface was so soft it often crumbled under my sneakers. Somehow, after a few scares, I managed to make my way to the top.




The view of the ancient valley was spectacular, in the distance I saw Gujarat's only world heritage sight Pavagadh rise over the landscape.

There can be few places where the strangeness of nature is more striking. Volcanic eruptions millions of years ago covered Pavagadh with a soft form of lava known as tufa. Over the eons, wind, rain and rivers eroded the tufa in amazing ways, creating a series of deep valleys bordered by steep, gently undulating cliffs. Most unusual of all, they created the fairy chimneys, tall cones of tufa and volcanic ash that are topped by protective slabs of hard basalt. They resemble crudely cut columns with hats, and some of the hats look as if they have been precariously placed by some gargantuan prankster, and could fall off at any moment.



A landscape for terracotta horses riding into the heavens and the hope someone gets their little message in a bottle.

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Sorry my hosting is down for a bit (hence the super basic template) - this should be remedied in 24hours or so.



The film director is directing a scene in which protagonist meets her lover on park bench. I was in Film City, a 500-acre wonderland of fake mansions, poverty-stricken villages, schoolhouses, and police stations on the outskirts of Mumbai, where many of the big-budget Bollywood films are shot. I turn around me to find the actors sits on four plastic chairs stacked on top of each other, their arms bound by packing tape, because he needs a high chair to keep his long legs comfortable. Meanwhile the light technician shutter about setting up lights for the next scene.

In a movie set outside Mumbai. It's after midnight on a sweltering May night. A spectacled man booms commands into a microphone. The camera zooms in on the actor and swirls around a rott-iron bench surrounded by tinsel and fairy lights. A song slowly starts.

Here are some pictures I caught that sweltering May night under the artificial lights.

Scene 1 :
Boy meets girl on park bench [see below]. If you are wondering what happens next - the actress smiles and caresses her legs - while the camera takes a close-up shot. Yes it was very corny.



Behind the Scenes

1.
Director of Photography preps the actor for next scene.



2.
Make-up.



3.
Shot after shot, take after take - an entire of army of men flutter about behind the scenes to etch celluloid with moving images.

From the make-up to the man, tabbing at a large fan - they all play their part.







4.
What one does not realize that the largest component of time spend on a set is that done waiting.





Your usual Bollywood story would go something like this :

Boy from Bombay slums meets girl from suburbs. Girl's family object to boy. Girl is about to be married off but boy murders the groom. Boy is killed during shoot-out. While visiting relatives in Sydney, girl meets boy's identical twin, who has been separated from boy one at birth and raised as a Calcutta yuppie prince.

They fall in love, everyone's family approves. For Bollywood song settings, the boy and girl must change clothes and backdrops at least three times a duet; perm between Delhi campus, British shopping centre, Australian beach, Raja's palace, Swiss Alps, Egyptian pyramids and Scottish mansion. The more mountains the better. The big wedding number is a must. If you can fit in happy villagers celebrating the harvest so much the better.

& the Story Continues

1.
Raju holds up a giant green pipe over a 1960s Hindustan Motor's Baby Hindustan to make it rain. The camera trolley on the other hand moves forward as if to give you the sensation that the car is moving. All tricks of the trade






2.
Scripts, however, are not always considered that important by the directors, who have a tradition of, well, making it up as they go along. Director is helping his actors plug in the story line


3.


4.
It all ends in song and dance and everybody concerned lives happily ever after.



Take a look at my other exploits on a tv soap set for Tehelka.

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Knee deep in garbage,Kong Siehar, 14, combs through giant mounds of rubbish for tin cans, plastic bags and other recyclable goods. It is one of the saddest sights in Phnom Penh, a sprawling 100-acre garbage dump where trash fires burn and plumes of black smoke choke the air with toxic gases.

'I'm looking for something good, something I can sell,'' the boy said one day as he poked his stick in a small mound, strewn with crushed milk cartons, detergent and condoms. ''I know it's difficult work, but I want to help my family. I need to help my family.''



Children toil for about 50 cents a day here at the Stung Meanchey Municipal Waste Dump. It is perilous work. The waste is soggy, and huge bulldozers rumble through here, dumping pile upon pile. The children show up at local health clinics with rashes, infections, cuts and bruises.









Trudging through Stung Meanchey I come to realize, ''This is the closest thing to hell on earth I've ever seen."

When a vehicle -- any vehicle -- crosses into the dump site, the children fling their bags of tin cans in front of the wheels, hoping to crush their cans to increase the bag space.

Many of the children here were born into impoverished families that moved to the area from the countryside after the end of Pol Pot's murderous rule. Instead of finding urban fortunes, many of them settled in a slum that was erected along the rim of Stung Meanchey, a dump infested with flies that gravitate to the leeching refuse, the dregs of a nation.

About 10,000 people live in the slum that borders Stung Meanchey. Their village, Preak Torl, a cluster of plywood shacks, clings to the dump's edge. Fumes from sewage and burning garbage fill the air. Pigs forage in the village's dirt lanes.

Rith Preun, a girl of 12 who still works at the dump, is trying to earn money to pay off her parents' debt.

She wears a stained white blouse and a pair of soiled long pants. Her sandals are too big, and her hair, which bobs down to her shoulders, is tucked under a dusty, purple knit hat that protects her eyes from the scorching sun.

She carries a metal pick to help her poke through the garbage, and a white burlap sack that she uses to collect her recyclable goods. ''I've been working here for three years,'' she said. Stitched to her pants waszap a Winnie-the-Pooh patch.

My other Cambodia posts

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Originally published in Men's Health Magazine, October 2007



A Few months ago me and two of friends of volunteering ourselves into a race that involved driving over 3,000 km across India in the Monsoons over the Himalayas - if that wasn't harrowing enough we thought we'd do it in an mobile toaster on wheels - 3 wheels to be exact - yes we plan to ride an auto-rickshaw across India through torrential rains across the Himalayas.

There were many things we learnt on our trip so I thought I’d share spread the gyan to my fellow road tripping enthusiasts.

Road Tripping without Tripping Out – The Basic Philosophy of the Road



Road tripping is a state of mind. To truly enjoy it, you must embrace the philosophy of the road, much like European backpackers must bring a mindset of art and culture and beachcombers must be prepared for umbrellas in their drinks and sand in their shorts.

First, there are no boring places on the open road—just places that require a little bit of searching to uncover the remarkable. The great Indian road trip is an adventure we always dreamed about: roving the scenic byways of our vast country, stumbling on new vistas and obscure cuisines, making friends in dust-speck villages, national parks and cities joining the pantheon of legendary crisscrossers before us. Like a hiking trail, every road trip has a beginning and an end, but only the journey counts. The middle, the asphalt glide, the motorized mantra, getting from Point A to Point B, is the purpose of the road trip, realizing that you’re supposed to be wherever you are. Enjoy being there.

Also enjoy the fact that your vehicle is in your control, so take it wherever your heart desires. While your road trip will most likely involve an itinerary with reservations, do not tie your bumper to a schedule.

The Master Plan – Plotting Your Course



Your journey begins the first day you start planning your road trip, with anticipation as your accelerator pedal, floored and revving. So break out the map, grab a box of pushpins to highlight the highlights and let a little planning take you a long way.

Before the first pushpin digs into the wall, talk to friends and go online to identify the purpose of your trip. If your goal is four days of backcountry wandering, then all you need is a full tank of petrol and sharp eyes. If you plan include a final destination, like your Goa in one week, and then advance planning is crucial.

Once your purpose is set, consider your level of comfort. Are you the type who needs to know a reserved hotel room waits in the next city or will any roadside hotel suit your needs? Do you like your roads highlighted in yellow on your map, or do you keep your map in the glove box for emergencies only, allowing the winds of spontaneity to determine your course? Whatever your comfort level, be sure to ask your traveling companions for their opinions.

Once the bases are covered, get your guide book out and begin researching all the possible routes. But maps can’t tell you everything for example if certain mountain passes are blocked during the winter or if a festival or event in a city you plan to drive through will cause major delays – so it always best to double check all your research with locals on the road. Also, spend time on the Internet getting to know the smaller towns on your route. Treasures are often found in the most unlikely of places.

Before the Odometer Reaches 1

With your plan set and the trip already rambling in your mind, now is the time to make sure reality is on the same page.

The first and most vital step is to get your vehicle in top form. Whether you're traveling by car, truck, motorcycle or auto-rickshaw, your road trip will be smoother if your vehicle is ship-shape, or road-shape in this instance. Before you leave, have a mechanic check all the vehicle’s vitals: brakes, battery, fluid levels, tire pressure, light bulbs and any parts that need regular maintenance.

As with all long-distance road trips, it’s wise to bring emergency equipment such as a first-aid kit, flashlight, blankets/sleeping bags, drinking water and snacks,and jumper cables. Check the weather for your route and be prepared for rain and in mountain conditions with an ice scraper and chains for the tires is advisable

Safety – Don’t Wreck Your Trip

The last thing you want is to ruin your road-trip by getting into a accident. Safety is simply the number one concern for you, your traveling companions and everyone on or near a road, so always have the following safety tips on the tip of your mind while driving.

Pay attention. Practically all accidents involve inattention on the part of one or both drivers. Distraction comes in many guises: daydreaming sleepiness, fatigue and cell phones. Paying attention makes it possible for you to see, recognize and avoid the hazards lurking on the road; these are the three basic elements of defensive driving.

You are not psychic. You can never rely on what the other driver will do. While driving, always keep a wary eye on other drivers and leave yourself plenty of room. Anticipate the mistakes they might make and be ready. Stay alert and in control.

Yield anyway. If you are in doubt about who has the right of way, give it away. Right of way rules are often misunderstood, and there are situations where the rules may not be clear to everyone. If there is uncertainty about which vehicle should have the right of way, give the other driver the road. When it comes to driving safely, it’s not the principle, but the outcome, that counts.

Don't speed. Driving at a higher rate cuts your reaction time and results in more stored energy that must be dissipated in any collision. A safe driver should choose a speed matching traffic as closely as possible without exceeding speed limits. If traffic is moving at higher speed than you should go, keep to the right and out of the way.

Drive precisely. Most everyone knows the basic traffic laws, yet drivers impatiently ignore them for the sake of expediency every day. Traffic rules are in place to create the consistency and uniformity that allow us to predict with some degree of confidence what other drivers will do, thereby avoiding conflicts and collisions. Ignoring the rules of the road helps create the chaos you see every day.

Start Early Stop Early



Driving in the daytime takes far less concentration than driving at night—the two are as different as night and day—so to make it easy on yourself, you want to use as much daylight as possible. So, you want to start around dawn, or maybe an hour earlier. Besides the practical value, you also get to watch the sun rise, which is not only visually nice but also psychologically rewarding for some reason. It's an interesting feeling, I can't really describe it.

Of course, if you're starting early, you also need to go to bed early. Another thing that's nice is to arrange for a quick start. Here's how I like to do it. First, the night before, when I've found a town to stop in, before I find a hotel, I go by to fill up the tank and clean the bugs off the windshield. Then, the next morning, I don't eat breakfast until after I've been driving for an hour or so. So, when I get up, I can just wash, get dressed, and go.

If I do have drive in the night, especially on pitch black country highways where your visibility is limited to what your headlights can cover. More than once something dark popped up in the road and I didn't have time to react well to it. I was able to decrease my stress and increase my response time by staying several hundred feet behind another vehicle. This way I could see them react to something and I would know I would have to too. Also, their headlights extended the distance of my own headlights as to how far ahead I could see. Finally, seeing just a few red dots of tailights way in the distance was reassuring. They meant that I would know well ahead of time what right and left turns would be coming up. Also on Indian highways where no one believes in the concept of the dipper its often have something guide you when you are momentarily blinded by the oncoming light flare.

Hotels, Lodges and No Telling What You’ll Find

Many a time due to the lack of information available road-trippers dismiss you have no option but letting the road, the weather and your mood to the next hotel sign in the night. Often hotel and lodges on the road are not the most hygienic of places hence is always good to carry a sleeping bag or your own blankets.

In any kind of long-distance driving, you'll soon discover that bathrooms are far and between those that you find often have no soap or towels. So, as the day passes, you feel more and more unclean and that takes a lot of the joy out of driving.

Sometimes if you do not find a loo in time you have to go by the roadside - it took me years to put two and two together and realize there's a simple solution. You should always know keep soap, water and napkins with you, and from there it's just a small step to having some good soap with you as well. Carry soap or hand sanitizer – I find that they are absolutely essential. If you wear glasses, it's also nice to keep an extra handkerchief around so you can dry the glasses off properly after you wash them.

As for eating, it took me a long time to understand that large meals make one sleepy; in fact even not-so-large meals do the same. So, what I like to do nowadays is have one sit-down meal during the day, plus lots of snacks while driving. A high energy snacks like nuts, chocolate and fruit often go along way; the important thing is that it not be too much food.

Keeping your vehicle well juiced

Unlike the cities where you’ll find a petrol pump at every corner you sometimes you don’t find fuel for miles on end and being is stranded on a desolate highway or a mountain side ghat is one of the worst scenarios a road tripper could face. I usually carry empty jerry cans with me on long journeys and fill them up whenever I know that petrol pumps are few and far between.

Endless Highways


[Wildlife we encountered]

Exploring small villages, interacting with the locals and eating at roadside Dhabhas that sell tasty fare all require a sense of adventure and a suspension of disbelief. You never know what lies around the next bend, because the moment you take that curve or crest over a sun-blazed hilltop is moment like no other.

Most importantly drive safe. Drive long. And enjoy the open road.

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