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Shortly before leaving Seattle, I stumbled across a new retailer at Bellevue Square Mall while doing some holiday shopping. At this point, I had already begun planning my travels in earnest, and being the gadget geek that I am, was constantly looking for versatile, effective gear.

Having lived in the Pacific Northwest for the past 5 years, I’ve become a bit spoiled when it comes to outdoor performance apparel. Yet even the highest quality trekking clothing doesn’t quite work for travel, as they tend to come in bright (dare I say garish?) colors and patterns. I needed something that would transition more easily between the jungles of Burma to the urban equivalent in Tel Aviv.

Enter Nau, a brilliant new startup based out of Portland. Started by one of the co-founders of Marmot and former execs from Patagonia and Nike, their clothing is developed with three fundamental design principles in mind: beauty, performance and sustainability. The net result is a buttery soft micro fleece made completely from recycled polyester and styled like a motorcycle racing jacket or a pair of trendy 100% organic cotton trousers that have been treated with DWR. None of their clothing feature logos of any sort, and its also worth mentioning that they donate 5% of every purchase to a non-profit of your choice!

Enthused about my new find, I quickly picked up a few select articles, knowing that these would be the only clothes I would carry with me for a year on the road. Thus far, I’ve been incredibly pleased with how the clothes have held up under the rigors of travel. I’ve lost count of how many travelers I’ve met who have marveled at how small my backpack is, and I’m convinced this due in part to the small, but efficient Nau wardrobe I’ve invested in.

Here are some thoughts on what I’ve been wearing for the past 4 months:

Profile Fleece
As mentioned above, its styled like a motorcycle jacket, with micro fleece on the interior and a smooth exterior that enables it to easily layer under a hard shell. Relatively thin for the warmth it provides, it rolls up tight and takes up much less space in a pack than a “traditional” fleece. It’s been an essential insulating layer for me both in the frigid winters of northern China and Tibet, as well as the occasional Thai bus that has set its air conditioning for arctic freeze. I also appreciate the hidden chest pocket which I constantly used to safely stash my passport.

Asylum Jacket
The hood of this storm shell blends seamlessly into a high wrap-around collar, which provides that little bit of extra protection from the elements. The hood was designed to be helmet compatible, so it layers well over a wool cap, but its light enough to be worn without insulation underneath in tropical downpours. Hmm… The matte finish on the jacket doesn’t resist the grime of travel all that well. Over the past few months, daily wear has caused it to develop a permanent dark mystery layer in a few places.

Base 2 Wool Shirt
Made from finely spun merino, this shirt has made me a true believer in the wonders of wool. It somehow regulates body temperatures, so that it provides a surprising amount of warmth for its weight in colder climes, yet is breezier than cotton in heat. It naturally wicks sweat and tends to resist odor. This shirt comes with a small side pocket that blends into the seams - useful for room keys, for instance. Since it dries much more quickly than my other shirts, its been my daily wear ever since Thingyan has started. Hmm… The seam in one particular area is starting to come loose, though it hasn’t gotten any worse in the past 2 months.

Cargo Pants
I wanted a basic pair of cotton khaki trousers, but even here Nau has exceeded my expectations with little extras. They mixed just a touch of spandex into the fabric, so that the pants stretch nicely for more athletic endeavors. I’ve hiked up steep trails in the Tiger Leaping Gorge and played pick-up soccer in Laos in these these trousers and never once did they impede my movement. The cargo pockets have been sewn into the seams so they blend into the profile of the pants, which is appreciated since nothing screams BACKPACKER! like jarring, slapped-on cargo pockets. Hmm… I doubt there’s anything that Nau could do to solve this problem, but these pants are now sporting multiple stains from eating greasy street food that just will not come out.

Nau also interacts with their constituents by holding regular contests where people can send in pictures of themselves sporting Nau clothing.

Guess which satisfied customer won a merino polo this month?

We’ve been in Laos for a week now, and spent most of that time up in the northern end of the country, where diversity is high but incomes are low.  When you walk into ethnic minority villages where no one speaks Laos, let alone English, communication can be an issue.  Curious adults want to know where we’ve come from, how long we’ll be here - essentially conversations that require a degree of vocabulary that we sorely lacked.  With children, its much easier.  They just want to play!

With all the time we spent playing in the villages, I began to appreciate just how innovative their games were.  I wouldn’t necessarily categorize the people we met as impoverished; everyone we met were subsistence farmers and hunters, and always had plenty to eat.  But they certainly lived a life free of many of the worldly possessions that Westerners wouldn’t dream of living without.  Absolutely none of the children had anything that could be considered a toy.

You might not realize this, but thong sandals are incredibly aerodynamic.  From what I could make out, the game is played by tossing your sandal some 10 meters away.  Your friends then take turns trying to make theirs land as close to yours as possible.  The more skilled kids got some serious frisbee-esque lift out of their footwear.

Apparently dirt can be just as fun.  In a different village, kids eagerly helped us dig up small rocks to use as crude marbles.  Once you’ve got enough, you cup one hand against the ground and take turns trying to flick the rocks into the “pocket.”  I grew bored of this pretty quickly, but I’m not exagerating when I say the kids played this for hours on end.

The best game that I found also happened to (not surprisingly) be the dirtiest.  The place that we spent the night in had a village center, with a ring of benches set up for special ceremonies.  The children there had developed a unique form of tug-of-war that I haven’t seen before.  One kid would sit down on the ground, and wrap his arms and legs around the legs of one of the benches (which was firmly embedded in the ground).  The next would then sit behind the first with his arms and legs wrapped around his torso.  The third would then link up behind the second so that eventually there formed a chain of miniature humans.  The child that was “it” had to then pull his buddies off the bench, one by one, with the end result being a giant cloud of dust within which writhed a giggling mass of little limbs.

Let the record state that it took all dozen kids working in concert (and then some) to pull me off that bench.

Special Note: Its a shame that we haven’t been able to capture some of the remarkable scenes we’ve come across - in a cruel twist of fate, we dropped our camera in 6 inches of muddied water just as we started trekking into the remote hills for a closer look at the “real” Laos village life.  If you’re wondering why there haven’t been new pictures posted, we finally acquired a replacement just yesterday.

I have some fond childhood memories of good times spent in Disney World. The whole family would pile into the minivan, and we would cruise down I-95 along the Eastern seaboard. Along the side of the road were multitudes of billboards, all building up an attraction called South of the Border. You’re inundated with commercials for this place as you drive south, but when you actually pass it, there’s surprisingly little to see.

Yunnan is one of the more remote province in China, and accounts for fully half of China’s 56 minority ethnic groups. Coupled with this diversity are some of the most incredible landscapes I’ve ever seen - its no surprise that this region has become something of a backpacker’s mecca. Its name translates literally into South of the Clouds, and unlike Carolina’s highway amusement park, this place definitely lives up to the hype.

The vast majority of our time was spent in a Naxi town named Lijiang. Here, its easy to rent bicycles and cruise from village to village, getting a taste for the local life. Even though Lijiang is relatively close to the equator, its nestled in an alpine valley so the air has a cool crispness to it year round.

Here, I encountered vistas that were so achingly beautiful, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. It’s not unlike those times when I brushed up against a high school crush - there’s a rush where I would clench up inside, and find it difficult to breathe.

Every available surface has been lovingly cultivated so that no matter where you look, there’s lush agriculture and vibrant green to greet your eyes. In the distance, the imposing Jade Dragon Snow Mountain looms overhead, breaking up the deep blue sky with the soft white of fresh snow. At dusk, rays of sunlight splinter through the clouds to reflect golden fire off of scattered rice paddies.

In the Tiger Leaping Gorge, massive granite cliffs hold a silent vigil above the churning turqouise waters of the Jinsha river. Across the chasm, an aging, gap-toothed Naxi man rests on his haunches on the side of the trail, gathering sour grass for his evening meal. Herds of goats graze peacefully while perched precariously on steep precipices. Village life here seems to have remained simple, isolated and untouched for an untold number of centuries.

I must confess that we’ve become a bit addicted to this bucolic lifestyle and have spent far more time here than we originally intended. Still, the road beckons, and its time to move on.

Having been in the Middle Kingdom now for over 6 weeks, my Chinese has improved tremendously.  However, a series of unfortunate events have highlighted a major gap in my vocabulary.  I don’t know how to express What the Fuck?! in Mandarin.

You would be amazed at the multitude of opportunities that Sarah and I have encountered that simply cry out for this eloquent response.  In chronological order: 

• A freakish Tibetan sandstorm delays your flight by 31 hours.  The airport is devoid of helpful people, and you’re only informed about the delays until after the 8th hour - what the fuck?!
• The queue to purchase train tickets during the madness of Chinese New Year is at least an hour’s wait.  30 minutes into it, people start blatantly cutting to the front of the line - what the fuck?!
• 5 hours into a 25 hour train ride, someone ties a still alive-and-shitting chicken underneath your seat.  It absolutely reeks and when agitated likes pecking at your leg - what the fuck?!
• On that same train, a man who looks like he hasn’t showered in a week decides to sleep with his greasy head resting on your shoulder - what the fuck?!
• While you’re takng a nap on a table, and someone decides it’s a good idea to sit on the aforementioned table so that their ass crack is perfectly aligned with your nose - what the fuck?!
• The train station sells over 40 standing-room-only tickets per train car for that wonderful 25 hour train ride - what the fuck?!
• The grandmother sitting across from you repeatedly hulks up phlegm and spits them right at your feet - what the fuck?!
• The local market is selling bloody, vein-covered muck that Sarah swears looks like fetus - what the fuck?!
• You check in to a hotel room for all of 5 minutes, decide not to stay, and the owner demands that you pay for a 1/2 day - what the fuck?!

Thankfully, things have turned up for us, and we can laugh about these situations now.  I suppose its the perils of traveling that make up half of the adventure. 

I knew Tibet’s lunar new year, Losar, would be something special, but nothing could prepare me for the spectacle that ensued. I can still feel the echo of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Sarah and I had waited patiently in the Barkhor Square with some fellow travelers and Tibetan friends for evening to fall. There were squads of jing cha patroling the area, as well as a fire truck clearly on stand by, yet all was quiet. Then, according to some unspoken cue, Lhasa erupted.

Throughout the city’s maze of alleyways, small sparklers and hand shells were being fired. We ducked into a narrow street to get a closer look - just as things got interesting. One after another, the rat-tat-tat machine gun of chains of firecrackers rang virtually non-stop in our ears. Someone had set a small pile of rubbish ablaze in the middle of the street. Tibetans emerged from their homes to add fiery armfuls of cardboard and straw - attempting to burn away their troubles in the coming year. More lengths of firecrackers were tossed into the mix, violently exploding within the raging inferno.

The heavier ammunition was slowly brought out, and Lhasa lit up in a riot of colors. Fireworks as impressive as any I’ve seen in the US blanketed the sky in every direction. The smoldering remains of exhausted explosives were now steadily raining down, forcing observers to seek cover. Billowing smoke from both fire and fireworks were making it difficult to breath. So this is what a war zone is like.

Yet a war zone this was not. We could just make out beaming Tibetan faces through the haze, and every now and then a delighted scream would pierce the cacaphony when a child danced too close to the pyrotechnics. The atmosphere was simply electrifying and you couldn’t help but be swept up in this unbridled expression of joy.

Perhaps most amazing, is that this is only the first night of the festivities. I can’t fathom what other kinds of new experiences the remainder of Losar has in store.