#17 - From Matthew:

Ok here’s one for South Africa. Try an apparent South African delicacy called Skop:

“Skop. Head of a cow, sheep or goat. The head is first scrubbed with a sharp instrument like a razor to remove skin and unwanted parts like ears and the nose are then cut out. The head is then boiled and allowed to simmer. Favored by African men.”

Reward: $20

Status: Completed

At first, I wondered how on Earth I could track down sheep’s head. It sounded like an old tribal meal. I learned they were still popular amongst the urban poor after reading Steven Otter’s “Khayelitsha – An Umlungu In A Township.” Nicknamed smiley because of the grin which develops on the sheep’s head as the hair is burned off it over a fire, I knew my Soweto tour would be the one and only chance to get one.

Luckily, the guide was all too happy to make an unscheduled stop. It was Sunday morning, and the queue was at least 20 minutes. At $2 a head, they were half the price of a McDonald’s meal. The guide gave my money to someone further ahead in the line so we wouldn’t have to hold up the tour too long, and brought the head, wrapped in plastic and newspaper, back to the van. Before we entered the Hector Pierson museum (a young boy whose untimely death at a peaceful march sparked major momentum against apartheid), the smiley was unwrapped over the van’s center console.

The guide began to show us (me and a horrified Spanish couple) how to take the head apart. It was already split in half down the middle, but apparently there was a special way to pop the pupil out of the eye before eating the latter. I couldn’t stomach an eye, but I did try the tongue which tasted like chicken, and a bit of the brain, which was mushy, and tasted just as bland as the pig’s brain I sampled in China. Two brains to my credit, I no longer felt the need to eat them going forward. The flavor is bland, so it is more the texture I find unappetizingly gross.

To our surprise, the Spanish couple offered a little of their own traditional food. From a bag, they produced thin slices of raw pig’s leg on buns. A stopover in Spain suddenly seemed more appetizing!

Share This

Boarding the Barracuda, I was acutely aware of the potential for seasickness. At the time, I was more concerned about an upset stomach than getting in the cage. A clearly stated rule of the trip was “no vomiting” in the toilet on board, and a red sign on the small door to the restroom reinforced this message.

The skipper gunned it out of the unassuming harbor and we were quickly bouncing up and down as we crossed the Atlantic. Dyer Island, off the coast, is home to an abundant staple of the sharks’ diet, Cape Fur seals, however the waters were still too rough for us to venture there. Instead, we made our way along the coast toward calmer, shallower waters where the sharks feed on fish.

Immediately upon arrival at the anchored cage (left in place after the morning trip), we spotted a large grey profile in the water. There was no mistaking the sharks in these waters, they were all Great Whites. Everyone jostled for good positions to take photos, and before I knew it, people were dressed in full body wet suits (boots to hood) and grabbing masks to get in the water. To my surprise, we didn’t use snorkels. We would have to hold our breath!!

The crew was clear about setting our expectations. The visibility was practically zero, so we could get in the cage for the experience but should not expect to see anything. I don’t think anyone skipped gearing up in a wet suit for the opportunity, no matter how small, to see the sharks at eye level. Changing into the suits on a crowded, rocking boat while sharks angle for fish heads a few meters away is not an easy task.

The first group in the water reported, for the record, no visibility. As expected, surface viewing offered the best chance to see the sharks, yet I knew I had to brave the waters to win the dare (and satisfy my sense of adventure). Getting in and out of the cage is as haphazard as it might seem. The boat is constantly rocking with a constant lean toward the cage side. Five other people are already squeezed in there. And of course there are giant sharks circling us at all times!

Cage diving procedure:

1. Crew throws out fish head on a line as bait, while pouring chum (fish guts and blood) in the water.
2. Cage diver puts knees on a low horizontal bar under the water’s surface, and holds onto bars above their head whilst his/her back is leaned against the boat-side of the cage.
3. When a shark is seen coming toward the bait, it is pulled away leading the shark toward the cage.
4. The crew yell “get down.”
5. Divers take a deep breath, let go of the overhead bars, sink down into the cage (courtesy of weight belts), and grab the bar where their knees previously rested.

Between people’s excitement, confusion, and varying degrees of comfort, it was a more chaotic experience than I expected. It took a few cycles of “get down” for me to get into the rhythm. Going underwater was important lest you risk being knocked unconscious by a flailing shark tail. One French man preferred to watch from above water….and he was eventually moved to my right, meaning I was the second person in from the left end of the cage.

I was in the cage about 15 minutes when it happened. The crew yelled “get down” and I went under to see Jaws ram straight into the cage, inches from my fingers and face. All I can remember was a mouth full of teeth grinding on the metal cage. Because the bars that make up the cage are far wider than I’d prefer, it would not be an exaggeration to say the sharks mouth was within the cage. Taken completely aback by this sudden, close-up confrontation, I glided a few inches to my right so my fingers were in less danger of being (albeit inadvertently on the shark’s part) sliced off. A few seconds later, it let go and quickly disappeared.

I burst out of the water for air, put my knees back on the bar, and feeling I just got five times my money’s worth, exited the cage in the least graceful manner. The videographer harnessed the trip’s most exciting moment to reinforce the need to put your hands in the right place “because you can see what happens.”

It wasn’t until later, watching the video footage back at the office, that I would see the same view as everyone on the boat. Unlike all the other sharks on our trip, the one I met face to face didn’t turn away from the cage at the last minute.

Share This

#15 - From Jay:

I dare you to take a Walk In Muay Thai class for one day. It will be the best workout of your life, and it is fairly cheap! Since you are in Phuket, may I suggest Rawai Muay Thai, or Tiger Muay Thai? They are the most Americanized. I’ll buy ya a beer.

Reward: A beer

Status: Completed

Jay’s dare provided me with yet another experience I wouldn’t have sought out on my own, especially given a complete lack of martial arts experience in life and an aversion for fighting in general. I first heard about muay thai boxing in the context of The Travel Channel’s “5 Takes” show which sends 5 lucky travelers to a region of the world equipped with laptops and video cameras. The sporty guy on the show went through a 2-hour training, and now it was my turn.

A few blocks from Kent’s Guest House was one of Chiang Mai’s boxing stadiums (think boxing ring inside a large bar). Fresh from 6 hours of cooking and eating Thai food, I took on the dare knowing I’d have to work for that beer.

Mr. K, the 1987 muay thai champion of Thailand, was my trainer. A couple of other real Thai fighters were also hanging around, with one in particular helping me out. He went out to buy me some tape to wrap my wrists (an additional cost for any other novices out there) and took all of the photos while I punched and kicked with all my muay thai might. A young Texan guy also joined the training session, trying to work off the weight gained from being on the road for 6 months. I could relate all too well, having recently confirmed a weight gain of 20 pounds (9 kg) since leaving home 11 months ago.

Before Mr. K showed me a single move, he had me spend 10 minutes bouncing left and right around a tire. A few minutes later, my calves were burning and I lost any sense of shyness, removing my already sweat-soaked shirt. The boxing shorts were on loan, after a quick smell from Mr. K, deemed they were wearable by a customer.

Mr. K taught me the basic moves - right/left jab, kick, knee (to opponent’s face), and arm/leg blocks. We started without the gloves in the corner training area, then with gloves on the heavy bags, and finally Mr. K donned the training pads and we got into the ring. He gave commands, and I did my best to follow, forgetting to keep my arms up to protect my face after each move.  He was incessant about reminding me to keep my hands up.  If I were in a real fight, I’d have been KO’d within seconds of the opening bell. The thought scared me. The thought of the Thai fighters kicking and kneeing the hell out of each other on a regular basis also didn’t sit well with me.

The Texan and I swapped time with Mr. K, and then a fighter set to headline a 100,000 Baht ($2,900) fight in a few days did a demo. He even took a few minutes to help me with my technique. The personal attention made for a great experience.

The next day, I had a sore right shin from my more forceful right kicks, and a set of ridiculous photos. Hopefully I lost a pound in the process too.

Share This

#14 - From Erica:

You knew someone would dare you to eat dog while you were in Vietnam, didn’t you?

Reward $20

Status: Completed

At some point in Thailand, I resolved to skip traveling through Vietnam to hasten my departure from the Asian continent. As a result, I targeted Cambodia as my best shot at eating dog to complete Erica’s dare (clearly she is a cat person!). After wetting my palette with bugs, Phi-lay dropped me off at the hotel so I could shower the day’s accumulation of red dirt off my body.

He picked me up again at 4pm and took me to a local restaurant where the chef/owner has served dog for the last 10 years. I imagine the last time a Westerner ate there was NEVER! Yet there were several tables of Cambodians and it wasn’t even the dinner rush. I required a beer for this one, and Phi-lay joined me on that note. As we awaited our food, I took a photo of the chef, and upon showing him, he proudly ran around the place showing people the photo of him holding a giant pot of dog parts. Who are we to judge whether this delicacy is right or wrong?

I asked to try both of the available dog dishes - grilled and a greasier, bone-inclusive stew (complete with kidneys). Phi-lay assured me the food was safe as doctors visit the farms where the dogs are raised. Mint leaves and sliced young banana were accompaniments, along with a tasty curry dipping sauce. After a few bites of the grilled dog meat, which seemed to be in the shape of sausage, and the yuckier stew, I tried to be polite and focused on gobbling up the crunchy and delicious young banana slices which went well with the now dog-flavored dipping sauce.

Phi-lay admitted to not being keen on dog either (he needed a beer with he meal too), though I was glad he joined me. Thankfully, his wife was beginning to prepare a proper dinner back at home, and I was invited!

PS - I love dogs. Especially Bernese Mountain Dogs. I even scratch the scruffy beach dogs. Just not the possibly rabid ones that look like the living dead.

Share This

#7 - Overland Travel

OK Dave, I think I have a particularly unoriginal dare that will nonetheless get you out of your comfort zone! When you get there, I dare you to get your picture taken with one of Thailand’s finest ladyboys… And no cheating - we need evidence of a prominent Adam’s apple and manly hands! (As you know, get someone reliable to take it for you… don’t want anyone running off with your camera!)

Since you will need to get your running shoes on shortly after the pic has been taken - straight to a chemical shower no doubt - I will stick the amount at $50 which should get you a reasonably decent hotel in Thailand for a night.

Enjoy!

Reward: $50 (to go toward a nice night in a Thai hotel)

Status: Completed

___________________________________

I’d been seeing ladyboys everywhere I went since arriving in Thailand - Th Khao San road in Bangkok, Koh Samui, the Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan.

In the throes of an unexpectedly fun first night on Thong Nai Pan Noi, I took a few minutes to have this photo snapped with what in my best judgment (at the time) were 3 ladyboys.  Note the light handhold to try and show off “manly” hands.

This photo still makes me shudder.

Share This

As my journeys in India have already come to a close, you might be wondering why I’m just now touching on the vindaloo dare. My attempts to find the fiery curry dish from Goan towards the end of my trip ended in vain, and my ego wouldn’t let it go. The rooftop train failure I could handle, not trying a spicy curry I couldn’t.

Backtracking to India, I received the dare while in northern McLeod Ganj, a Tibetan community more apt to offer Italian food (inextricably), momo’s and standard Indian fare than a regional dish like vindaloo. When I mentioned the dare to Marie, she said it was a dish that men ate in England after drinking to prove their manliness. Apparently it was hotter than hell, and I was a bit relieved I couldn’t find it right off the bat.

Surely Delhi, capital of India, would proffer such a feisty dish. My attempt to get a restaurant referral from a street hustler crashed and burned, and I was running out of time to hit the pavement around Connaught, so I mentioned the dare to Neil and his wife, who both offered to help me win the bet (to my great appreciation). The clock was ticking. On my last night, we found a Goan joint in a Delhi restaurant guide.

Neil drove us over to the popular marketplace which he use to visit regularly with his mom. Stalls offfered souvenirs and there was a food court with restaurants representing all of the regional cuisines of India. The only problem was we were informed the Goan place closed shop. Apparently vindaloo wasn’t so popular in the big city. I was bummed, but Neil still took me to a great Italian place, The Big Chill, where I devoured some risotto and chocolate cake as my last supper on the Indian subcontinent.

The first Indian restaurant I spotted around Khao San served vindaloo. I ordered a beer to build nerve, a 1.5 liter bottle of water to soothe my tongue, and the chicken vindaloo. It arrived quickly and I dug in only to find it mildly hot. Clearly, the mighty English would not prove their manhood with such a dish. It had been dumbed down for tourists. I vowed to return and explicitly request an intenser heat, but I ran across another restaurant first, and decided to make my last stand. I didn’t know what awaited me on the islands, so it was now or never.

I told the waiter my plight for intensely hot vindaloo. We understood each other. I skipped the beer this time, simply ensuring the water was readily available, along with a cooling dish of cucumber raita (yogurt). I’m happy to report the curry was very hot. When I swallowed the green peppers, it sharply burned my throat. My tongue, and to a lesser extent, my lips, felt hot for a good 10-15 minutes. I quietly hoped I didn’t just sabotage my overnight bus ride.

Since I didn’t pass out from the heat, or consume the dish in India, I am leaving judgment on this one to Jeff.

Bonus Video

Share This

#9 - From Dan:

Looks like you’re running low on dares. Now that you’re in China I dare you to ride a scooter (as a passenger or driver) down a ridiculously crowded street. Just like in the pictures.

Seems to me you could do this in either China or India, but you can do it where ever you have time/motivation.

Provide photographic evidence and your compensation will be $25 plus rental fee if you have to rent to complete your task. I’ll up the winnings if the street is REALLY crowded.

Reward: $25+

Status: Completed

After a few days in Bangkok without meeting anyone, I was starting to feel like my bang-up start was more like a bust. I was feeling lonely. Invariably, I’ve found this happens when I have the highest expectations for socializing. Then, when I’m asleep at the wheel, I end up meeting and hanging out with cool people.

To entertain myself, and hopefully earn a few bucks, I took on Dan’s dare. My friend Charlie in Chengdu had a motorcycle, but it was broken at the time I was staying with him. After a mentally traumatic mini-scooter accident when I was a kid at day camp, I lost any desire to ride motorized bikes. I prefer to be encased in metal, especially after seeing the way people drive in India.

Motorcycle taxis are commonplace in Thailand, so I hired one for a loop around Democracy Monument near Khao San. It took a little translation support to ensure the driver knew what I wanted, and he delivered in great fashion. Surely agreeing to what was likely a generous overpayment didn’t hurt.

Unlike paragliding, taking photos and video on the back of a bike was a breeze. I’m sure it would’ve been a dirtier, dustier, bumpier affair in India or Nepal, but there was plenty of traffic which we weaved in and out of at red lights. It turned out to be a memorable experience which helped to lift my mood.

Bonus Video

Share This

#11 - From Stefan:

Here’s a new dare for $20…take a ride on the roof of a train in India.

Reward: $20

Status: Failed

__________________________________

I must admit defeat with regard to this dare. I don’t have a choice….the beaches of Thailand are calling.

I only saw people on a train rooftop once, and never saw the opportunity arise for anyone at the stations I visited. Maybe it’s more common in the south, on local routes, or in more remote regions of the country.

Share This