Category: Travels

The year was 1977, and Ferdinand Marcos was still the Philippine president. A few months back, Jimmy Carter was sworn in as the 39th President of the U.S., and I had just completed my freshman year in college.

It was our summer vacation and so, earlier that week, Ray and I decided that we would go biking to the hills of Antipolo, Rizal (a quiet but relatively big town, approx. 20 km northeast of Manila).

I woke up at about 4:00 AM that Sunday put on my cycling gear, and poured the de-fizzed Coke I placed in the fridge the night before into the plastic bottles attached to my bike.

After a brief inspection of my steed (tires, gears, brakes), the road map, and my camera, I rolled on — to the scent of fresh-baked ‘pan-de-sal ‘in the still-dark streets of Parañaque and headed towards Pasay City…where Ray and his family had moved.

Ray and I were childhood friends in Baclaran, where his family had lived, even by the day I began remembering things. That was until the owner of their apartment unit decided to lease out the entire complex to a Chinese businessman, forcing them to move elsewhere.

He was younger by about 6 yrs, but we shared the same interests: playing all sorts of street games, billiards, ‘dama‘ (a local version of checkers, usually played in barber shops), swimming at the Manila Bay -its water was still relatively clean, and people could still catch some fish – and, of course, biking.

I called his name through the window in his room, conveniently situated on the side of yet another apartment complex along Facundo Street. He had already prepared the night before and, in no time, we found ourselves pedaling furiously eastward to Pasig, Rizal, which is now a city and part of greater Metro-Manila.

Although not very far from Manila, Antipolo is a cyclist’s bane since most of it is situated on the eastern slopes of the Sierra Madre mountain range, which gives the city a spectacular view of Metro Manila.

But why did we go biking there? It was the month of May, and traditionally, people, especially in predominantly Catholic Philippines – from all over the country, trek to the place to pay homage to the ‘Nuestra Senora Dela Paz y Buenviaje‘ (Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage) – a black-imaged Virgin that came from Acapulco, Mexico that was used during the Galleon Trade. Also, there are numerous spring resorts in Antipolo that offer a bit of relief during the hot summer months in the country.

It took us about two hours to reach the church, and after we said our prayers, we bought some ‘kasoy‘ (cashew nuts), also abundant in the area as with the ‘Tipolo‘ tree (breadfruit), where the place got its name from and snapped some photo souvenirs, we decided to continue our trek southward to the neighboring towns of Tanay and Baras. Both are still situated in the province of Rizal.

It was mostly downhill from Antipolo along the undulating roads toward Tanay, and so we decided to eat lunch in one of the roadside ‘carinderias‘ (eateries)- they are so ubiquitous along the main highways of the entire archipelago – not long after we reached the flatter sections of the town.

I forgot what we ate but remembered that we drank more than we ate because of the noonday heat. I also ensured that my two water bottles were full for the impending climb towards Mabitac (part of Laguna Province) via Baras and, once again, Tanay.

I almost gave up as soon as we reached the brutal climbs in Mabitac. Ray, who was riding his trusty ‘play bike,’ was egging me on to continue without realizing that my steel road bike was climbing these slopes on a maxed-out 48 tooth (front chain wheel) by 18 teeth (rear gear) combo while he was leisurely pedaling on a smaller wheel with a 32 by 20 gear ratio!

I barely made it to the top! The cool breeze and the panoramic view of the Laguna de Bay gave me the ‘second wind’ I needed to pursue the journey further south. Besides, the trip back via the same roads would have probably been torture!

The rustic sceneries and the ‘genteel feel’ I had for the small ‘barrios‘ we passed by en route to Mabitac (one of the three towns in Laguna that bordered the province of Rizal – the others being, Pakil and Santa Maria) made our pedaling easier than it seemed to be.

From their ‘verandas‘ (porches) or, in front of their hardware stores, old men and women waved at us as we wheeled by.

As if our souls had briefly met high above the clouds and then looked down with puzzlement at the chaos and confusion people were creating for themselves on earth.

We bade goodbye to the mountains as soon as we entered the municipality (or town) of Famy in Laguna. It is a small town whose western tip briefly borders Laguna de Bay. Most of the towns in Laguna straddle this great lake, a source of livelihood and many folklores.

From there, the twisting roads of Siniloan led us to the more significant, eastern part of Pangil — vernacular (in singular form) for the ‘fangs of wild boars,’ which were said to be abundant and freely roamed the place.

It rained briefly while we were gingerly traversing a downhill section towards neighboring Pakil. These towns I remembered well as the “three Ps”…the next one being Paete — very well-known for its wood carvings and the sweet and succulent fruit, ‘lanzones.’ How could I not remember the sense of awe Ray and I had felt as we whizzed by these trees with their light-yellow, oval-shaped fruits right above our city-bred heads? We were not used to seeing those trees!

Also, most houses in Paete have small, thatched huts that are usually detached from their prominent abodes, where their owners can do their carvings. Some of these huts also double as small ‘sari-sari‘ (assorted goods) stores to augment their income.

In one of these ‘sari-sari’ stores along the highway in Paete, Ray and I tasted one of the best ‘pan-de-cocos‘ (bread rolls with sweet coconut fillings) in our lifetime. It was not because they were well-baked but because we were hungry after the lung-busting climbs. We washed them with “Sarsi” (a local brand of root beer, whose aromatic flavor comes from the ‘sarsaparilla’ vine) and lots of swigs from my now slightly hot water bottles. It was about 2:30 PM, and from Ray’s house in Pasay City, we had almost been on the road for more than 9 hours!

And so, we pedaled on to the towns that caressed the southeastern portion of Laguna de Bay. These were: Kalayaan, Lumban, Pagsanjan  (although not bordering Laguna de Bay, we decided to pass through this town en route to Santa Cruz because of its popularity and allure), Sta. Cruz, and Pila.

It was in Pila where, again, we stopped briefly to sample one of the roadside delicacies, ‘suman‘ (a long, sticky rice cake whose flavor is enhanced by the coconut leaves it is wrapped on). These, we dipped in plain sugar for taste and to supplant our already-drained body sugar reserves.

I also happened to have a university mate and friend that lived in town, and we briefly mulled looking for his house and paying him a surprise visit.  But it was almost 5:00 PM, and although it was the peak of summer, we were running out of daylight to cover the remaining nine Laguna towns and cities — and the more than 90 km of not-so-very-easy roads back to Manila. Also, given that our frail bodies were simply running on whatever glycogen reserves they had, we backed out on the idea and pedaled onto the adjacent town of Victoria instead.

From Victoria, our pace was getting slower and slower as we trundled past the towns of Calauan, Bay, and Los Baños, where its steep hills almost zapped the lights out of us and almost gave in to the thought of sleeping the night over as soon as we hit the town proper.

We knew that we were not far from home as we stopped briefly in the town of Los Baños — very near the road that leads to the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI), situated inside the University of the Philippines at Los Baños‘ (UPLB) sprawling compound.

We were also very familiar with the towns and cities we would pass along the way. Los Baños had been one of our favorite cycling haunts from Manila because of its hot baths, which are natural and relaxing and purportedly have medicinal properties.

Once again, the downhill-to-flat run from Los Baños towards Calamba boosted our already flagged-out spirits. We saw the last streaks of sun rays as it finally set on the western horizon as we approached the historical city. Calamba is the birthplace of the country’s national hero, Jose P. Rizal.

In one of the restaurants in this time-tempered city, it was only fitting that Ray and I talked – over cups of coffee – about the roads we had covered and the ordeals we had gone through. We had traveled far and well.

More importantly, we could see through our inner selves…our strengths and weaknesses, our tempers and moods, our bravado, our follies, and our foibles – as well as our determination. We had lived through yet another day in our youthful lives.

Darkness was upon us as we agreed to move on for as long as it was not too dangerous for us to ride through the remainder of the journey. And so, we pedaled on to the rest of the towns in the partly-lit roads of Laguna: Cabuyao, Santa Rosa, Biñan, and finally, San Pedro.

It was almost 10:00 in the evening.

We still squeezed some sugars out of our sore leg muscles and moved on to the first municipality on the western side of Rizal Province: Muntinlupa.

Like Pasig in the north, Muntinlupa also is now a full-fledged city — the southernmost one of greater Metro-Manila. While we were a mere 20 km away from Pasay City, it was also here that we finally ended our saga on bicycle wheels — for health and safety reasons.

At the BLTB (Batangas-Laguna-Tayabas Bus Company) terminal in the town of Alabang, after asking permission from the bus driver, we hauled our bikes on the rearmost part of the almost-empty bus and slept soundly on the long, foam-padded backseat on our way back to Pasay City.

We had, finally, come full circle.

BIKE NOTES: Ray used a ‘Patria‘ brand (a bike shop/manufacturer founded by Tony Kairuz whose main store was located in Buendia Avenue in Makati, Metro-Manila, until it closed shop in the mid-80s) steel-framed ‘play bike’ (“banana” type seat with raised handlebars) with 21″ wheels, single chain wheel with multi-gear back freewheel.

I utilized a locally made, 50 cm. ‘Pigeon‘ brand (a small bike frame builder in Paco, Manila in the 70s that was co-owned by Tour of Luzon lap winner Hermogenes Vinluan) steel-framed road bike with 27″ clinchers on Weinmann rims & steel spokes, Sugino alloy (52/38) chain wheel with a SunTour Dia-Compe 10-speed gear set (bar-end shift-levers), Universal center-pull brakes and a pair of old-school, steel/alloy pedals with Christophe shoe cages and straps.

I already felt the humidity of Bangkok the moment we stepped out of the plane to wait for the service bus that will take us to the main airport terminal. The bus’ air-conditioning hid this fact for a few minutes, and so, the muggy air blasted onto my face anew as soon as we stepped out of the airport to wait for another bus that will us take to our hotel after we had cleared immigration and retrieved our baggages.
Bangkok, despite of what I’ve read and heard from friends about the place, immediately impressed me after the almost 40-minute drive to our hotel, which was located in the heart of downtown…along Petchaburi Road. The roadways were clean and nicely engineered. Towering concrete posts for the still-undergoing-expansion Skytrain, dotted the right portion of the freeway, but they were left neatly in place –no dangling wood forms nor rusting steel supports.

The country -temples or without- simply showed us that the people is where we sense more the ‘breath of nature’ that moves our innermost heart.

But one thing that awed me were the magnificent temples that literally lined up the entire streets of Bangkok–Budhhism being the main religion of the country. Not only they tempered the modern look of the country, but they also added ‘mystique’ to the already-exotic place.
After a brief, albeit, refreshing sleep, quick showers followed by the hearty breakfast buffet in our hotel, Bangkok and its magnificent temples, would, once again, dazzle us during the 6-hour morning city tour.
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The city tour showcased most of the popular -and bigger- temples in downtown Bangkok that included, the Wat Phra Chetuphon Temple (more popularly known as the ‘Wat Po’ where the massive ‘reclining Buddha’ is housed) and the Traimitwitthayaram Temple inside the Chinatown district, where the ‘biggest Golden Buddha made of pure gold’ in the world is located.
Finally, on a trip to the countryside the following day, Thailand not only showed us its gentler side but also visually reminded us that, “all that glitters is not, necessarily, gold.” Why? Inside those temples, while the beauty and craftsmanship of all the icons and statues may mesmerize visitors, they all paled in comparison with the natural warmth and friendliness of the Thai people.

My sister called the night before that it was better to start the journey from her house in Santa Cruz, which is about a 40-minute drive from Fremont. And so, very early that morning, just several minutes after we had gingerly packed the Tupperwares with our favorite breakfast and had filled the thermos bottle with coffee, we were already traversing the Santa Cruz mountains along Highway 17, en route to her house, which is situated close to the USC-Santa Cruz main entrance.

On that sunny Tuesday of January 4, 2005, we had on our map, the mountains of Santa Ynez, as well as some nearby cities situated in the county of Santa Barbara, CA.

We had planned to visit the opulent Hearst Castle in closer San Simeon but backed out at the last minute after we learned from their website, that the shorter route via Highway 1, was closed due to rock slides.

We reached Highway 101 – more scenic than Interstate-5 -after we deftly maneuvered the backdoor of the Santa Cruz mountains using Salinas Road. From thereon, Highway 101 regaled us with its splendid views of mostly vineyards, ranches, a bit of the coastline of the Pacific Ocean in Pismo and Arroyo Grande, and the gentle, rolling countryside of the area tuck neatly between the Bay Area and Southern California.

After we stopped briefly for gas in Arroyo Grande, we were just merely an hour’s drive away from the hotel which we called home for the remainder of our trip. We stayed at the Best Western-Andersen’s Pea Soup in Buellton, CA. Like most of the hotels in the surrounding area, the design was Danish-inspired. This was due to the fact that Buellton was a mere 5-minutes drive away from the smaller but more popular Danish village/city of Solvang.

There, cobblestone courtyards, windmills, brick sidewalks, thatched rooftops, and cozy coffee shops, offered us already-bored denizens from the dreary, concrete jungle of the Bay Area, the unique flavor of Europe right here in California.
  

After we unloaded all our gear in our hotel room, we wasted no time and hied off to the main city of Santa Barbara, which was another hour spent leisurely cruising 101, with the snow-capped mountains of San Rafael watching us from the distance.

We arrived at the archaic Mission Santa Barbara Church at 2:30 pm – exactly 7 hours after we left Santa Cruz that Tuesday morning. The weather was, fortunately, still crisp and sunny that particular afternoon in spite of rains clouds that loomed from the southern front. An hour later, we found ourselves at the Santa Barbara wharf, where we marveled at the fantastic, time-tested combination of mountains and sea scenery. A place sure to evoke fond memories of one’s glorious past, wherever one may have originated from.

The tight but busy streets of downtown Santa Barbara guided us in our search for Highway 154 as we preferred to venture the twisting but spectacular San Marcos Pass rather than to return to Buellton using the now, for us, redundant Highway 101.

The Santa Ynez mountains run like a wall along the south coast of California that stretch from east to west. There are only three routes out of Santa Barbara to the north that cross these mountains: Gaviota Pass, Refugio Pass, and San Marcos Pass. San Marcos Pass is the shortest route of these three. The San Marcos Pass summit is about 8 miles northwest of Santa Barbara.

San Marcos Pass, punctuated by spectacular views of Lake Cachuma and highlighted in part by the grandeur of the Los Padres National Forest and the San Rafael Mountains, is probably one of the most scenic roadways in the entire state of California.

The first people to live on San Marcos Pass were the Chumash. They originally called it “Malames”. The Chumash are now gone, but their memories linger on (courtesy of a classy resort/casino) and their rock paintings can still be found in many places on the Pass, among them, the Chumash Painted Cave State Historic Park.

We bade farewell to the San Marcos Pass as soon as we descended 154 and cut through the towns of Santa Ynez and Solvang to finally reach our hotel in Buellton via Highway 246…instead of continuing on to the historic town of Los Olivos – known for its numerous wineries as well as its expansive views of the Santa Barbara Valley. Both Highways 154 and 246 will eventually merge with Highway 101 somewhere along with their respective ways.

We could not resist the charm of ‘Europeanesque’, Solvang so we decided to refresh our flagging spirits by settling down into one of the cozier tables that also offered a nice view of the streets from inside the Mortensen’s Danish Bakery/Shop, where we had their ‘house special’ bread and coffee.

The bread’s unusually sweet fillings and the caffeine boost in the numerous cups of coffee we had, gave us back the energy we needed to continue on for the long night ahead. Pictures were taken along the brick-laden streets of Solvang as well as nostalgic sceneries among the horse ranches and the ostrich farm we passed-by, by on the way back to our hotel in Buellton.

It was already dark and the traffic discernably light -except for the brief but gaiety Christmas lights we saw at Solvang as our Jeep plodded back along Highway 246…perhaps wondering where all the magnificent vistas had gone – as we headed for the Chumash Casino and Resort – a convenient 15-minute drive from our hotel.

Once inside the casino, the creations of men and their mighty, money-making (or, shall I say, ‘money-taking’) slot machines plus the ritzy ambiance of the place, once again, tried to mesmerize us with the false sense of beauty of the materialistic-side of things on this part of the Earth.

We already knew better. The natural beauty of the places which we had all seen earlier, was already forever etched in our minds for as long as we will all live…and will be impossible, for any artificial places of recreation that will probably be created by man, to take them all away from us.

The Vigan ‘longanizas‘ (sausages from Vigan, which is a town about 250 miles north of Manila and noted for its rich Spanish heritage) smelled even more garlicky that morning as I placed the remaining links on a clear bowl.

The sausages casings’ red-brown color together with the fat that dripped from the fillings, blended oh-so deliciously, with the generous oil that had accumulated under them. Eaten at breakfast and served over hot, white rice with a good cup of coffee, these ‘longanizas‘ will definitely see you through a long day of travel…which we had planned that Thursday of Dec 16.

By 9:30 in the morning we had already traversed the busy cities that had dotted Highway 880 -and a bit of I-80 – and had coasted cleanly into the towns of Vallejo as soon as we had exited the first off-ramp after we paid the $3 toll in the recently-remodeled Carquinez Bridge. It is one of the major spans that link the upper portion of Northern California with the Bay Area.

Highway 29 cradled us the rest of the way as we headed towards the majestic plains of Alexander Valley, in a place called Geyserville. The destination may not rub well with the altruists, but the journey was, nevertheless, close to being ethereal.

As soon as we left behind the old city of Vallejo, the scenery immediately turned rustic and was perfectly complemented by endless vineyards that caressed the entire length of Highway 29. We passed by quaint towns along the winding roads of Napa and Calistoga.

Both these places offered a study in contrast to over-consumptive materialism and utterly simple living. In addition to their huge manses, there were the usual gas-guzzling SUVs and expensive sports cars casually parked inside the huge lots of the vineyard owners. On the other side of the coin, there were the humble, one or two-room abodes of farmers or retired folks who love to till their own lands.

Passing through these rustic towns also gave me a sense of wonder as to why, we, mere mortals had to endure the banalities of modern living –even when these seemingly plain (but spectacular) sceneries could fill our inherent craving for inner peace and joy, much stronger.

The plains of Alexander Valley unfolded right before our already mesmerized eyes after Highway 29 turned into Highway 128 and almost immediately after we passed-by the last town in Calistoga. Highway 128 meandered along the rollings hills of the Valley until you hit the small town of Geyserville. A short, stone and steel bridge -one of the many that spans the 50-mile long Russian River – should serve as a good marker that you’re on the right track to Geyserville.

Our destination wasn’t the town but the Indian casino now called River Rock. It used to be called ‘Dry Creek Rancheria’ but casino operators -with their esurient skills for making money – probably realized their folly in naming a money-maker that had already dried-out and renamed it to something that constantly flows instead.

The place was situated up a steep hill that was accessible via a narrow road along Highway 128. There were multi-storeyed parking garages and most probably, a hotel, undergoing construction. But, the squat, main casino building was already in full action –ready to take your money away.

The panoramic view of the valley from the 4th-level  garage parking offered a bit of spiritual relief from the voracious appetite of the slot machines and gaming tables below.

It’s probably the very first Indian casino that I had been to where I felt that I didn’t even have the chance to win, just a few minutes after inserting my money on the slot machine. The slot machines over there were really tight.  Even Larry Ellison would probably shudder at the thought of how those slot machines were programmed to give the house an unbeatable edge.

River Rock, the place, is definitely on my “to visit” list. Eat and enjoy the scenery. But avoid the casino as much as possible, please. You might want to play at neighboring Hopland instead (a 30-minute drive further north from Geyserville).

There, the less-sophisticated slot machines of the ‘Shokawah Hopland’ will welcome you their kinder and gentler arms.

All told, the fantastic sceneries and the grapes planted all throughout Highway 29 that led us to River Rock, only served as mute witnesses, to our follies, perhaps, in our ways for the never-ending quest for something meaningful in life.

I beckoned my aunts (on a visit from Manila) to the waiting car as I prepped the engine for our trip to the Black Oak Indian reservation casino situated in Tuolumne, California — about 8 miles east of Sonora.

The day started on a misty note as the sun never showed up in Fremont on that Tuesday morning – Dec 14. There was a mild fog as we traversed Altamont Pass along Highway 580 as our car hummed steadily towards the low-lying plains of Tracy.

After about an hour of driving, we encountered a little drizzle along Highway 108 as we approached the town of Oakdale. Time for gas and time to relieve my bladder when we were right in the heart of Oakdale. The place is noted for its fine furniture (naturally, made of oak) as well as for being the heart of the vast and fertile valley of Central California…an area that supplies almost the entire U.S. all the almonds it needed.

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From Oakdale, it was simply 45 minutes of stress-free driving, punctuated by undulating hills and vistas that seem to know no borders. It is one of those places where you will feel the vastness and, perhaps, greatness of good, old U.S of A. As a bonus, the sun suddenly showed up as we approached the area where 108 forked into 120 –the main artery that will lead you to the majestic Yosemite National Park.

From 108, there was a new exit ramp that led to a 9-mile feeder road (mostly uphill) where the Tuolumne Band of Me-Wuk Indians situated their new gambling mecca this side of California. The place was undergoing expansion, so that we had to park in an area where you will have a view of the hills that surround the place.

Even though it was high-noon when we arrived, the place was cold — like it used to be, all throughout the season. Even the nickel and quarter slot machines we played were also cold. We were still lucky to eke out a few dollars in winnings even though we just hang around the place in under three hours.

Nothing much had changed in the place when we first set foot on it during its opening day in 2001. Except, maybe, for the hot, roast-beef sandwich (with a marvelous side dish of mashed potatoes) which we washed down with soda and coffee that was excellent.

Even that alone, was worth the drive!

 

Once more, this time with my visiting aunts in tow, we visited yet another Indian casino called Cache Creek — one of the several that had mushroomed (and continues to) around California. The drive was a leisurely one since we embarked immediately after the rush hour traffic on a Thursday morning.
In about two hours, we had already parked our car in one of the wider, blue-colored slots with the distinctive disabled logo.

It had been several years back when we first went to this relatively unknown place just about 30 miles west (if coming from the Bay Area) off Highway 80 in Vacaville. It’s in a place called Brooks and the casino itself got its gaming license by being situated in the Indian reservation long inhabited by the Rumsey Band of Wintuns or the ‘Patwins.’

I was surprised how huge the place had now gotten to be. Gone was the sleazy feeling one gets when entering the casino. It had become now a ritzy and glitzy place that will give any medium-sized upscale casino in Las Vegas a run for its money.
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If you enter the place from the south side, there will be airy restaurants that will immediately entice you with the variety of food that they offer. It used to be the area where, before, a small and cramped fast food was tucked beside a circular room where the nickel machines were located. Now, there’s an oyster bar, a deli, a fast food booth, an Asian resto, a huge taqueria, a seafood/steak house plus two huge restaurants that both offered modest buffets. How money can change the world, huh?

But the games remained the same except for the notable addition of two craps table. The tables may look the same as regular craps but look closely. In the center of the table was a port where cards were shuffled. Cards in a craps game? Yes, Indian casinos use cards to comply with the regulation that all table games must all be done using game cards. This is probably one of the deals, Las Vegas biggies had struck with Indian-gaming lobbyists, so as not to take too much of their very lucrative businesses or ‘level the playing field’, so to speak. And check out the dice, too! Those are not your standard pair of craps dice but specially made ones.

As usual, we meandered all throughout the place, hunting for any of our favorite penny slot machines. But we found no penny machines whatsoever. Do Indian casinos forego penny machines to make sure that they ‘rake it in’ quicker?
We found solace in a 10/25 cent variety that offered a modest payout even if you play only 1 or 2 coins (yes, we opted for the 10 cent game). Then, having sated our appetite for these games, we hied off to the nearby taqueria and had their luscious ‘beef taquitos‘ with ‘pico de gallo‘ as our chosen dipping. My aunts washed these down with iced-tea while I went for my usual coffee.

We went home at the break of dusk and wondered where’s the creek in the place that gave the casino its name or so it seemed. The Indians had, indeed, found a cache in the place. But it was not gold this time and the actual creek, for that matter, was not nearby the casino itself.

It was cold, hard cash being emptied out of the pockets of visitors, day-in and day-out. No wonder they had grown so big in so little time. For Cache Creek (the casino), it’s ‘ka-ching’, ‘ka-ching’, indeed!

We made an impromptu trip to Reno, NV last Saturday – after heavy rains lashed-out the Bay Area on Thursday and Friday – to pump up our sagging adrenaline levels and to try our luck in the numerous casinos there.

The trip was smooth as silk and the weather was simply spectacular. In three hours, we were already playing our favorite slot machines in Boomtown in nearby Sparks. We moved on to downtown Reno later on in the afternoon.

Reno was noticeably not particularly busy on that gorgeous weekend. The Indian casinos must have taken a very large bite out of their lucrative business. Casino habitués were not flocking to this mini “Sin City” like they used to –specially on a very nice weekend like that one.

For us, it was a welcome relief. Traffic inside the main strip was very light and going from one place to another was easy as it could get. Parking was incredibly hassle-free (specially with the use of my ‘temporarily disabled’ parking card — note: in Indian casinos, these privilege parking spaces seem to be always full) and going in and out of the casinos was without the usual hustle and bustle. In was an exceptionally relaxing weekend in an otherwise stressful place.

As an aside, we also dropped-by our favorite Filipino eatery in Vallejo – Andrea’s – where we picked-up all our food for the entire trip. These included “chicken adobo” and the saucy “beef kaldereta” with rice. For dessert, we had the “taho” (a food/drink made basically of curdled soy beans) with lots “arnibal” (syrup made of brown sugar and vanilla) and “sago” (tapioca pearls).

Of course, the package won’t be complete without their irresistible and delightfully crispy “lechon” with the mildly spicy liver sauce.

During one of our trips to the gambling mecca this side of Nevada, we usually leave the house at around 7:00 in the morning.

That normally allows us with enough time to make sure that someone had already heated up any one of our favorite nickel or penny slot machines, when we arrive. But, on this particular trip – which was on a Sunday – we left the house two hours earlier than the usual.

We’ll be driving much slower and will try to cover more secondary roads on selected cities and towns along the way. Armed with my relic-of-the dot-com-bust but still-trusty, WiFi-equipped notebook, a booster antenna and the notoriously popular wireless sniffer, NetStumbler, we’ll be war driving from Fremont to Reno, Nevada.

The rapid popularity of wireless Internet access spawned the fine art of war driving: a computer cracking technique that involves driving through a neighborhood with a wireless-enabled notebook computer and mapping houses and businesses that have wireless access points. There are states that deem this practice illegal. But not in these two tech-savvy states of California and Nevada — homes to Silicon Valley and the Comdex Expos.

But why war drive? It is because of my distaste for cell phones. While cell phones are convenient for emergencies, non-yakkers like me want to have Internet access – the world at your fingertips – as we drive along. The tiny screens in cell phones and other WiFi-enabled gadgets like the Palm Tungsten C just don’t compare to the full-glory of a big, crisp 12″ or 14″ TFT computer screen.

We utilized the I-580 East to 205 to I-5 North to 120 to CA-99 to Highway 80 East route to reach Reno, Nevada and in the course of the almost  4 and a half hours of leisurely cruising/war driving, I had concluded that it is not only indispensable to bring your notebook computer if you will embark on a long-haul drive but it also a convenient way to get in touch with the world – all for free… while giving your tired eyes a lot of relief! The world is indeed a small place with the Internet and WiFi access. Access points abound – except for the major portion of the uphill stretch from Placerville to Sparks – in most of the areas we drove by!

However, in time, war driving may suffer the same fate as using your cell phones while you’re driving — which is now widely implemented in densely populated cities — unless, a highly secure and selective encryption standard will come along the way. One that will be good enough to sort out the free-for-public-use wireless networks from the private ones.

—links:

www.macstumbler.com
www.netstumbler.com
www.palmone.com

I was feeling bored that I decided to make the four hours plus drive to Lake Tahoe, to take a breather.

After three days of revamping this site, the occasional tweaking of all the computers in the house and my fix-your-PC moonlighting, I had it for a while. After all, it had just been just quite a while since I updated/revised my (this) site. That third revision was easier, since most of the images were already done – from the previous two versions. My initial site and its subsequent revision were both hosted at Philippine-based servers. After I setup my own server, I thought that making any major revisions to one’s site will seem to be all too easy – I was wrong!

I noticed a smaller volume of traffic going to Tahoe specially on a weekend. Usually, the traffic is a little tighter – specially on a Friday – since the folks with RVs normally start their weekend jaunts early. Not so these days. Maybe the Indian casinos had really taken a deep bite into the business of the usual casino haunts like Reno, Tahoe and even, Las Vegas.

We arrived a with a little bit of sunlight to spare and immediately grabbed a quick bite at our favorite 24 hr. cafe inside the Horizon – – the spicy buffalo wings is always on our to-order list.

Afterwards, it was back to Harvey’s, where we played our favorite nickel and penny slots…way until the early hours of Saturday.