In The Moment

Choices

2009-11-27T13:06:00.001-08:00

Choices can be a liberating and dangerous freedom. With any choice, I think thyself usually knows the best decision yet is influenced by surroundings and expectations. Logic vs emotion. Wants vs needs. Big or small, choices are the decisions that guide us forward. Short-term or long-term. Solicited or unsolicited.

So goes the merry-go-round of life. I love that in my current circus of life, any decision I make today can be easily changed tomorrow due to the non-demand of long-time commitment. It is what thrills me. It is what makes me want more. It is the life-blood of what keeps me going.

The roller-coaster ride of changing my mind four times on any given day makes me want to stand in que for the ride all over again. Yet I wonder why...since it has the same effect as the ride which makes your insides turn outside. You know the one I'm talking about. The amusement park can be a taunting and exhilarating joy ride which you can escape when the park closes. I suppose it's a thrill. I sense it's a comfort. I know it's staple.

I actually keep waiting for the day when enough is enough. Shouldn't I want the life that we lead outside the amusement park? Yes. Am I ready for that life again? No.

The tragic clowns are doing their magic. The battered elephants are performing their tricks. The unhealthy popcorn is hot and buttery. The obnoxious crowd is waiting with anticipation.

I extended my visa for another three months.
~ Jen ~

2009-11-23T04:37:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know it's been a long time. The last couple weeks have not been so easy. You might think it's all kittens and kisses being in Asia but let me assure you that it's not. Sure, I eat street food for cheap...beers are basically free...life is pretty simple compared to that of the West. For as many simplicities and priviliges that exist here, there are just as many frustrations and temptations. The space between is where I strive to exist.

Seven weeks ago I accepted a job that I thought would be a good fit. I was wrong. A week ago I resigned. It was a dysfunctional environment that suffocated my intent for living in Asia. I wasn't happy doing what I was doing and I was unhappy for not going after what I originally came here to do. With a breathe of fresh air, I spent the last week enjoying Hanoi and catching up on sleep and relaxation. Today, I was told that my Visa situation may cause me to have to leave in six days. I pushed on for more points of information and feel assured that I can resolve it tomorrow...for a price. Will it be worth it? I would like to think so. But just like a 30 minute conversation that should take 5 minutes, so is the time it takes to see results of immaculate efforts.

I'm sitting in a bar at the moment because our internet at home has been shut off for the last three days because we weren't there to answer the door when the lady came knocking to receive payment. No one seems to know the amount we owe. The guesstimate we are given is sure to pad the pockets of an unknown enemy. We gave money to a woman I no longer work for to give to our cleaning lady who hates us because we constantly nag her to actually clean rather than whatever it is she thinks she does. Do I have another beer or go home and hope to have internet? Do I need internet? Yes, for what it is I really need to be doing at the moment.

Meanwhile, I'm pinching pennies and avoiding buying appropriate weather suitable for this Hanoi winter weather. After all, I'm unemployed again and prefer to spend my dollars on more entertaining investments. I realize this uncomfortable temperature of 60 degrees F is a far cry of what I would have in Chicago but my soul of Southeast Asia hinders me from accepting.

I treated myself to a burger tonight rather than cabbage soup at home.

I wonder if my laundry hanging on the sunless rooftop will be dry so I have something to wear tomorrow.

I just realized the other three people sitting at this table with me are playing online poker. Half the people in this tourist-area bar are Expats compared to tourists.

I wonder if the store ladies next door at home will hound me for beer bottles upon my return.

Should I walk for 30+ minutes without a jacket or hire a motorbike driver?

~ Jen ~

Wandering Mind

2009-11-02T20:03:00.000-08:00

Random thoughts that won’t leave me alone this morning…

Elevator etiquette is non-existent.

A tiny donut shop I treated myself to this morning in the shopping center had four employees working in a 10 x 10 sq ft space. Only half that space was free for human occupancy.

I live in a civilized and fairly nice neighborhood for Hanoi yet in the mornings, men freely urinate on the sidewalk. They don’t even pause to free the space of splatter as I walk by. Parents even simply pull the down pants of their children to desiccate the street and sidewalk. Toilets are available very nearby.

Construction is going on next door to a street-side coffee shop that I pass by going to and from home. This tiny elderly woman was trying to go about her business and earn a living but apparently the construction guy thought she should move her little plastic tables and chairs out of his way. I missed the introduction of the altercation but was made aware of the situation via a plastic chair flying by my face. He proceeded to hurl all her chairs and tables including all coffee glasses and spoons into the street where they shattered in front of oncoming traffic. The sidewalk was full of patrons and pedestrians (mostly male). A guy sauntered up who I thought was going to help but all he did was check to ensure his car was not scratched and then sat back down at the neighboring coffee place. They were yelling and screaming and no one helped her or did anything. What to do?!

Two different nights while sitting on our rooftop, big rocks hurdled toward us from the dark park below.

The scratching noise I heard as I fell asleep last night was most likely cockroaches having a dance party in the corner of my room.

The fried bacon and 3 eggs covered with cheese is now considered a culinary delight for me.

~ Jen ~

Charades for Survival

2009-10-28T07:32:00.000-07:00

Imagine going through your day and only being able to get things done if you were good at playing Charades… where holding up two fingers doesn’t mean there are two words… in a situation where the person you are acting for probably doesn’t even know the word you’re acting.

It can be so funny you feel like you’re playing the game on purpose for fun with friends. It can also leave you with the feeling that you’re lost in a world with no way to communicate. So… I thought it would be fun for you to imagine how something like this plays a part in our lives in Vietnam. Each day requires a bit of this Charades routine but here are a few worth mentioning.

- Asking the Security Guy at my school to change the big drinking water jug on the machine or that I need him to blow up 50 more balloons.

- First time we had to understand the lady at the shop next door when she was saying in Vietnamese (and doing a bit of acting herself) that we would need to return the beer bottles in order to get our bottle deposits back.

- Explaining to the various people who knock on our gate that we do not pay the bills and that they need to phone "this" person. This is after having to figure out which bill they’re collecting for which is like a doubly whammy round of the game. Note: Mail is not delivered. Rather, people have to go house to house and ask for payment in cash which is apparently done around 5pm…when many people aren’t even home from work yet. And if they come five times and you still don't pay it, they shut off your service. So efficient!

- We went to the market to try and find a shower curtain and something that can serve as a shower caddy to hold products so they don’t sit on my always gross, wet floor. Danielle stood by laughing as I pretended to shower and wash my hair so that I could reach for the shampoo bottle in the "imaginary" shower caddy. The lady offered a plastic spray bottle. No. Then she tried to sell us more hangers and a frying pan. This is all while other ladies continued to gather around to watch the entertainment. And I still haven’t found these things!

- Asking for my hair to be chemically straightened which included figuring out that she wanted to know if I had colored it within the last two years.

- Danielle explaining how she wanted her hair cut. Very brave!

- To replace my bedsheets which Danielle so accurately described as 5-count plastic, I spent an hour at an actual bedding store trying to understand the sizes and individual products for sale. I was at one point laying on the display bed with arms stretched from end to end to determine the size of that bed. I finally bought a fitted sheet and think blanket which do not match but compliment each other. And now the too small sheet is stretched across my bed. Note: They don't sell flat sheets here.

- Danielle tried to buy Tiger Balm and was offered Tiger Beer, then hair gel. She's still itching.

- In search of a Monkey Temple in Thailand, I "modeled" (as we learned to do in our teacher training class). I climbed imaginary steps, formed a temple with my hands and imitated a monkey. I had to do this for three different people and finally a man and his daughter, who we flagged down as they approached in their truck, led us to the temple area as we followed on motorbike.

- One day I "moooed" like a cow to ask why there was no beef in my hamburger.

- Needing to buy tampons which includes acting out what a tampon is in the first place. Yes, just imagine…I was wearing a bathing suit!

When we get back to the States, who wants to be first to challenge us in a game of Charades?

~ Jen ~

...and then go and do that...

2009-10-23T10:51:00.000-07:00

How do you overcome your biggest obstacle when that obstacle is yourself? I have come to realize that I have much more to offer the world than I give myself credit for. I have so many valuable ideas, so many desires and so many things I want to accomplish and change. I have the mentality to do these things, to make a difference and to make something of myself, yet the thing that is holding me back is myself. Maybe the fear of failure? Taking risks? Making bad decisions? Wanting to do too much? I have always been so indecisive about everything I have done. I have always kept quiet when I could have been sharing a valuable piece of myself. I have so much I want to do, yet make no effort to accomplish it. I know this about myself, yet I have no idea how to overcome this fear of myself. I think this is maybe what separates the successful people from the average people. Sometimes I think if only I could conquer myself, then I could find true happiness within myself. Its difficult knowing that I have the potential to do so much, yet I spend all my time pondering how to do it rather than acting on it. Somewhere throughout my life, I lost all confidence in myself, and no matter how times people tell me how smart and beautiful and talented I am, I remain credulous without reason. And no matter how many times people tell me that I have the world at my feet and can do anything I want to do, I feel I will most likely dwell on what to do with the world until it is too late to do anything at all.
~D

Lost in communication

2009-10-20T23:35:00.000-07:00

In order to adequately advise you of what it is that has me back in the working world after 18 months, I would need to write a book as Danielle did about her new best friend, her xeom. It would require additional chapters with many footnotes. Instead, I will give you the cliffnotes version as I’m sure the daily antics of my job will serve as entertaining reading in the future.

The plan was to teach English as a Foreign Language. But rather it’s me who feels like I need to learn a foreign language in order to do my job. I’m the Marketing Manager for a new International Kindergarten here in Hanoi. It is the first of this franchise in Vietnam. The owner is Chinese and speaks no Vietnamese. All staff except for me speak Vietnamese and a range of decent to no English. I was hired to promote and market this very new school and to launch several new programs. Obviously I didn’t exactly know what that would mean but I thought it would be a good challenge to learn to market something other than Consumer Packaged Goods in a foreign country where I don’t speak the language or have a sense of what works and doesn’t work in terms of advertising and marketing.

My understanding is that I would work with the owner and have some interaction with other staff members as needed. I was to 1) market the school to increase enrollment, 2) launch a program called FasTracKids, 3) launch two other smaller programs, 4) manage the English department, 5) teach English classes myself eventually. The owner has a Western mentality because he grew up in Canada. He’s very smart and motivated. I could sense that he would work at a fast speed and I was ready to get started. I accepted the job on a Wednesday at 4pm and was flown to Ho Chi Minh City the next morning for four days training. Since then, I often times wonder what the hell was I thinking?! Turns out, the owner lives in HCMC and all my work revolves around communicating with the local staff. In my attempt to create some efficiencies for the school and selfishly for myself, I am now also responsible for Sales and managing several of the local staff which means communication with a whole other group of people. This might be one of those times when over achieving is not a good idea.

Funny stories for you (frustrating for me) will come your way in the future I’m sure. But for now, let me say that it takes 30 minutes to discuss something that should take five minutes. I cannot say “do you understand” because the answer is always “yes”. My questions are often interpreted to mean something completely different. Vietnamese tend to hide their feelings so it’s difficult to decipher if they are ok with what is going on, frustrated, angry, etc.

To me, this doesn’t begin to describe my work situation. There are some days where my head actually hurts from concentrating so hard to understand the communication and discussions. However, I’m having a great time and loving the challenge. I’ve always been a patient person but this is bringing me to a whole new level. If I may say so myself, a future employer of mine is going to reap the benefits of my current unusual world.

The story of the xeom

2009-10-19T22:04:00.000-07:00

Prologue
They say that coming to Southeast Asia is like going back in time, but it is actually going ahead in time. Maybe the person who created time zones should have planned for this better.

Chapter 1
I met my xeom (Vietnamese for motorbike taxi driver-literally translates to hug), while wandering through the old quarter one day in search of a bank. He was selling photocopied books on the streets to tourists (a very popular occupation amongst the locals in the old quarter). It is always best to be cautious of these touts, as they usually tend to be relentless, sometimes aggressive, and there have been numerous reports of theft from expats during encounters with them.
I became skeptical of him when I told him I didn’t want to buy any books and he didn’t push the matter any further. Instead, he just asked where I was going and offered to help me find a bank. My first instinct told me that this must be part of a scam to steal my newly acquired money or credit card information. However, I had not yet learned the secret to crossing the streets of Hanoi so I followed him as he cleared a path through the unwavering stream of motorbikes. He patiently waited outside as I entered bank number one, which turned out did not accept visa. Against my better judgment, I followed him again to bank number two, which was now closed for siesta. At bank number three, I was able to withdraw cash from the ATM machine but was careful to keep my credit card information hidden and my money held close. I figured that in exchange for his help, I would surely be obligated to buy a book from him in order to avoid a confrontation.

Interlude:
I’d like to pause here to clarify that I am not proud of myself for being so distrusting. I think it is shameful that we cannot always accept a stranger’s help without thinking they want something in return. Yet, I am a young women venturing outside the comfort zone of suburban America for the very first time into a country I know very little about. Historically, my naivety often gets the best of me, and I can’t help but to be overtly cautious, not only for my own safety, but also to appease the qualms of my overly worried family, whose reminders to “be careful” constantly ring in my ears.

Chapter 2
I realize the boy with the books is after nothing, except genuinely wanting to help someone in need and to make a meager, yet honorable, living. I have three job interviews that day, and he offers to take me. He asks if he can take me to work everyday, and I agree. It is the only guaranteed source of income he has.

Chapter 3
For three weeks, he has faithfully driven me anywhere I need to go. He is never late, and never complains when I call him on short notice. Each time he picks me up, he has a piece of gum and a new Vietnamese song on his mp3 player for me. One day it started to rain while he was taking me to work. We stopped and he bought us a rain poncho, a lovely bright pink piece of plastic with two head holes for us to share, equipped with duck billed hoods. Other motorbike drivers sped past us, dressed in similar attire, splashing water up at us as we went, but my nice work clothes remained perfectly dry underneath.
He gets frustrated with me because he thinks I don’t go out enough. “Why you always go home? Why you never go anywhere? Always work and home! I think you go see Ho Chi Minh museum, I take you! You never eat? You don’t like Vietnamese food? I think I show you Vietnamese food!” I can attempt to explain myself, but his English is poor and he doesn’t understand, so finally I agree to let him show me Vietnamese food.

Chapter 4
We go to a typical Vietnamese restaurant. Small metal tables and tiny plastic stools lining the sidewalk. The menu is all in Vietnamese so I tell him to order something good for me. The waitress runs across the street to fill dirty glasses with bia hoi, a Vietnamese microbrew. Small eateries and other dives concoct their own versions and varieties of it. Stored in plastic containers that look like a large drum used to carry gasoline (and probably once was), with a long rubber tube hooked to one end and a cork serving as a tap; you never really know what you are going to get.
My intention was only to stay out for a quick dinner, an hour tops. Although every third sentence was answered by one of us saying, “I don’t understand,” frequent pauses, and trying to come up with a simpler way to explain something, we ended up talking for a long time. Slowly the story of his life unfolded.
He grew up in what he calls, “his country”, which really isn’t another country at all, but a village about 50km from Hanoi. His mother is 60, which is very old for the Vietnamese, and her health is failing. She can no longer work, and he helps pay for her hospital visits when he can afford it. He never knew his father. His younger sister is 18. She is married to a much older man and has a baby. He asks me why I am not married yet, because in Vietnam 23 is old for a women to not yet be married. I explain to him that in America, 23 is still very young to be married and ask him why he is not married. He tells me that men do not get married until they are 27 or 28 and typically marry women 10 years younger than themselves. He also tells me that he only attended school for six years. There is no requirement to go any longer here. When he was 13, he left the village and moved to Hanoi by himself to sell books. His mother could no longer care for him and it was the only way he could support himself. I ask him where he lives, and he tells me that he shares one small bedroom with 7-10 other men. They all sleep on mats on the crowded floor. His rent is 10,000 dong per night, about $0.56. It is all he can afford, but he has never known the comforts of a bed, so he is content.
It is time to leave, and I try to pay the bill, but he insists on paying. It is tradition in Vietnam, and besides, it was a good day. “Today I sell many books and make a lot of money,” he says with a big smile, “$44 US. It was a good day”.

Vietnamese Customs and Taboos

2009-10-15T19:36:00.000-07:00

1. It is polite to remove your shoes upon entering someones home, but not necessary upon entering someone's shop.

2. When offering something to someone older or of higher status than you, you should use both hands, not just one.

3. The youngest person at the table serves everyone else, starting with the oldest or most important. Sometimes, if you're an important guest, people will choose the best parts of something and put it in your dish. It shows you're respected.

4. Eating is a big part of life in Vietnam and lunch is a very important part of the day. Don't expect to get anything done between 11-1pm

5. Chewing noisily and eating with ones mouth open is not culturally offensive of impolite.

6. In Western culture, picking ones nose is considered rude and disgusting, yet picking ones teeth is quite acceptable. Well, it's the direct opposite here. So don't be alarmed when you're chatting to someone and they suddenly pop their finger in their nostril. You may wish to cover your mouth with your hand while using a toothpick so as not to be considered disgusting yourself.

7. Vietnamese women rarely drink alcohol or smoke. So, as a western women one needs to be careful when drinking or smoking in public, in case they get a bad impression of you. Some poeple don't mind, but you need to be aware of this as it might lower your status in their eyes.

8. Losing face is a big thing here, so do not lose your temper in public. If you do, you will have lost face (respect) in the eyes of whomever you were with. Regaining this respect is virtually impossible.

9. Bargaining for ANYTHING is the way to go, unless you're in a supermarket or restaurant. Considering that haggling is part of life here, it only makes sense that the more you haggle, the better your business relationship will be.

10. Ho Chi Ming is a national hero and held in high respect. Either show the same respect or steer clear of his name entirely.

11. Vietnamese are extremely superstitious. Photographing groups of 3 people are considered unlucky and the first person to visit your stall/shop in the morning is supposed to hold the luck for the day's income.

12. Vietnamese may nod their head in agreement, even if they don't understand you. This may cause some confusion, as it is hard to know whether they really understand or agree with you or not.

13. Many students may avoid eye contact or speak quietly and passively. This is how they show respect to their teachers.

14. Vietnamese add the word "oi" after a name.

15. Crossing the index and middle finger is a very offensive sign in Vietnamese custom. It doesn't mean hopefullness like it does to us.

16. Asking personal questions such as "how much do you earn?" "how old are you", or "how much do you weigh?" are quite acceptable questions in Vietnamese culture (and often included on resumes). They don't mind telling you how fat you look either.

We've been warned. Now let's start picking our noses.

*taken from Apollo's Introduction Guide for New Teachers

the tale of two sheets and the first night living in a vietnamese home

2009-10-14T20:28:00.000-07:00

I guess I should leave it up to Jen to share the details of her new job (if she ever gets around to it). What I will say is, after accepting her job, she was immediately flown to Hochimihn City the next day for four days of training. What followed could be described by some as separation anxiety. We exchanged four emails each day (morning update, afternoon update, late afternoon update, and evening update) followed by a before bed phone conversation. Excessive? Probably yes, but it was the first time since we had met two months ago that we were apart for more than a few hours. It quickly became apparent to us how lucky we were to have each other on this unknown journey. Without someone to share my daily frustrations and humorous accounts with, many days giving up and going home would have seemed like the only sane thing to do. While I consider myself a very independent person and thoroughly enjoy my "Danielle time", it is the simple things, like having a normal conversation in English, that I took for granted.
Since then, we have settled into our daily routines, moved into a great house, and FINALLY unpacked our bags. Jen works during the day and I am teaching at two different language schools nights and weekends, which results in us not seeing each other very often. We joke that we have turned into an old married couple, struggling to find time to catch up about our day over a dinner. Since moving into our house, we are even sleeping in separate bedrooms now. Well, with the exception of our first night here.
That morning, we woke up early and collected everything we own into our few bags. We were picked up by a taxi driver, who was immediately irritated with us for having more luggage than the typical backpacker. Disgruntled, he threw our bags out onto the street leading to the alley that was our new neighborhood. The alley was too narrow for the taxi to drive through, so we had to make two separate trips in order to carry everything home. Jen made the first trip, while I sat on the corner surrounded by our bags and curious stares from the locals. Upon arriving in our new home, we quickly discovered that the Vietnamese idea of clean varies greatly from our western standards. I spent a large portion of the day scrubbing the house with only soap and water, since cleaning products other than dish soap seem to be non-existent here. And after lugging around my 1000 thread count, sateen, egyptian cotton sheets (I am a bit of a linen nazi) for two months, I joyfully removed the hideous teeny bopper, neon blue and pink flowered bedding with "Smashing" written on it that someone had specifically chosen for me, off the bed and replaced it with my beloved sheets. I could not wait cuddle up in bed that night with quality sheets for the first time since arriving in Asia.
After a long day, we ventured out in search of dinner. We came across a grocery store down the street from us and decided to check it out. We were tickled to find delicasies inside, such as peanut butter and cheese, and opted for a dinner of peanut butter sandwiches, crackers and cheese and of course beers, instead. While very collegiate, to us it tasted like heaven.
We returned to our rooms to prepare for bed, only to discover that the power in my room was out. We grabbed my headlamp and began a blind search for the fuse box. After finally stumbling across it in the hallway, Jen bravely stuck her hand into a very unsafe, ancient looking fuse box. With each switch flip, I cringed, praying that I wouldn't have an electrical burn victim on my hands. What followed each flip could best be described as the noise of a rat being electricuted combined with the sound of Chucky's laughter, but to no avail, the power did not return. And thus, I was forced to spend my first night in our new house, sharing a bed with Jen, to escape the heat of an unairconditioned, fanless room. While the room next door contained a bed equipped with the finest linens, I slept on weird plastic like, 5-thread count, crazy blue floral (the perfect print for a muumuu) Vietamese sheets that came with Jen's bed. Needless to say, if we had bladder control problems, these sheets would have worked wonders. Regardless, she has since then purchased new sheets of the more comfortable variety.

The transition from drifter to resident

2009-10-14T06:18:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, I started this post on September 30th…right before we decided to move on to another city. It’s been a little crazy ever since. We were jobless, feeling a bit frustrated and dreading moving our excessive amount of luggage to a new city…again. We always prompt horrified looks from other travelers as well as bus drivers when they see us coming. What they didn’t realize is that we weren’t tourists or travelers…we were hopeful inhabitants of Vietnam who have in possession more items than what they require…not to mention the books and remnants of a month-long teaching course in yet another backpack provided by the school. We considered printing shirts that made an excuse for our ridiculous amount of luggage but decided it was more fun to watch them gawk.  Well, there was the one time when I got in the van and literally announced to everyone why we had so much stuff. All that did was cause them to ask a slew of questions when in fact I didn’t feel like talking at all.

We are now officially finished with the hauling of the luggage situation. Only two days after arriving in Hanoi, we had several interviews and as many job offers. It was finally decision time!! Before we share our big news of how we will change the lives of Vietnamese children, let us give you a glimpse of some of the “communications” with those hiring English teachers.

…“It is regrettable when not to cooperate with you. I wish you will soon find the job you want. Though not work together we will be friend together. If you have obstacles do, do not hesitate to phone me. I will be happy to help a foreigner like you have come to our country. You are very nice.” ----- from the lady we turned down because of better offers.

…“Very sorry for the answer you want. To visit our school, if you do not mind carrying a few papers that follow you as necessary. See you soon on the way tomorrow.” ----- few papers meaning our diploma, teaching certificate, birth certificate, etc.

…”I hope we can cooperate to work for a long time.”

Danielle went to an interview and ended up teaching two classes because the instructor was leaving town. She actually got paid in cash that night whereas I taught a demo and got squat.

It seems with every interview we went to, an offer usually was made but some were a bit sketchy or too good to be true. A lady who is in charge of opening a new language center offered me the full-time job of managing the whole joint…everything from developing curriculum to managing the foreign and native teachers. She proceeded to post our profiles on their new website, invited us to the Opening Ceremony and requested us on facebook, twitter and Gmail IM.

So what are we doing now? We’re working and making a life in Vietnam.

I'm a celebrity, get me out of here!

2009-10-03T05:46:00.000-07:00

At some point while you were growing up, you probably dreamt of one day becoming rich and famous. Now, you probably watch TMZ and think to yourself, "if only I could have cameras following me around". You probably make fun of Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton, but only because you are jealous. You secretly practice your supermodel poses in the mirror and practice your acceptance speech after every major awards show. You buy the huge, bug-eyed, Gucci knockoff sunglasses because you saw Nicole Richie wearing them in Cosmo. And, you probably practice your signature on the restaurant's napkins, just in case.
Well, now all your dreams can come true. Simply move to Asia.
We live in a country where working only a few hours can earn you over 2.5 million (dong that is) a week. We are considered rich because we are white. Everyone wants to talk to you. People discretely, or non-discretely, pull out cell phones attempting to snap your picture as they cruise by on a motorbike, nearly crashing in the process. You cannot eat dinner in peace, because everyone in the restaurant wants to meet you. You begin to wonder how many people are showing off pictures of you to their friends, or if you are in the picture frame of a person's name you do not know. School children swarm around you asking for your autograph. And without fail, someone will tell you that you are beautiful at least once a day.
This may sound like the lifestyle you have always wanted. Yes, it can be endearing and fun, but it can also be overwhelming and annoying.
An email I sent to Jen yesterday recounting my day:
"Went to the park to do some reading. Got harrassed by the book lady. Ended up buying three books. Then got harassed by the fan lady. Ended up buying a stupid fan. They tell me Im beautiful, and it gets me every time. Got harassed by the sketch artist. Didnt buy a sketch but ended up teaching him how to tell time in english for a half hour before making up an excuse to leave. Tried out another bench for reading. Got through half a page. Got harrassed by some chinese guys who wanted to take pictures with a white person because we are so rare. When he asked if he could take a picture with me, I said, "Why? Aren't there any Americans in China?" Got harrassed by a different book lady. Decided to go home. Got harrassed by everyelse on the way. Decided to sit in the room for the rest of day".
Maybe I'm just heartless or maybe Good Charlotte described it best when they wrote: "Life styles of the rich and the famous,
They're always complainin', always complainin'".

~D

Jen's Return + 1

2009-09-23T11:49:00.000-07:00

February 9th was the last post? Well, I suppose I haven’t had much to say… or share rather. So where have I been? I might describe it as walking a high wire stretched taut between two worlds. The East vs The West. The life I could lead on both ends taunted me with danger, safety, ease and excitement. And it still does…which is why I’m still here.

I started traveling in April ’08 to appease the inner need for great change. Looking back, I suppose I knew from the start that the line would be unsteady at times but I would safely traverse to the end and return to the world from which I started. At an uncertain point, I lost focus of the initial quest and found myself trying to hold balance in the middle…not knowing which direction to step. After many big lunges and small baby steps in both directions, I made some decisions that leave me here where I am today.

I called the little fisherman’s beach town of Ban Phe, Thailand home for the month of August while I got certified to teach English as a foreign language. I’ve now been in Vietnam for three weeks. I returned to my beloved Hoi An after 14 months to find it just as lovely as before. One problem though. There was no work to be found. So here I am in Da Nang which is the 4th largest city in Vietnam and job prospects are slim after two weeks of waiting in this hotel with an apartment lease in hand. Let me say that it is quite a task to search for an apartment in a city where few speak English and no signs are in English. I waited 12 days for an interview with the Foreign Affairs Office. Turns out I would make only $350 a month whereas if I were teaching and working half the hours, I could make double that amount. Patience is key in this part of the world…

Although I dealt you a pontificating analogy at the start of this entry, let me say it is my goal this go around to share, inform, entertain and enlighten with frequent and small doses of life here in Asia.

So at this point let me introduce Danielle because I’m giving her full access to this blog. Together we will perhaps (and hopefully) give you something to enjoy with your morning coffee or evening beer. Our journey together began back in Thailand where when I first saw her I should have said “Hi, my name is Jennifer. What’s your name?” because that it what we said in the upcoming month-long teacher practice classes. Of the four girls in the 10-person class, we were the only two girls who lived in the school building for the provided accommodation. It was adequate enough but we made it fun.

Beautiful Danielle hales from Colorado. She enjoys the outdoors and loves animals (proof by whenever we see a puppy, we have to stop and oohh and aahhh). In her free time, she is a grammar Nazi (best in our class) and cuddles her Mac Book (which she’s been deprived of for 12 days due to a broken charger). She enjoys the occasional beverage of alcoholic nature (adding to the reason of why we are friends) and craves garlic bread. She has a mean look but is actually quite a lovely person when you get to know her. Now that I’ve made her sound like some sort of contestant…

In all seriousness, Danielle is great or else I wouldn’t be sharing my continued Asia adventures with her. She decided to check out Vietnam and it seems to suit her so we are searching for jobs and plan to share an apartment…wherever that city might be…because as of now, we are jobless and heading to our third city in Vietnam.

With that said, I will close for now. Everyone, please welcome Danielle. You’re free to give her a hard time, she’ll like it.

Mawt, Hai, Baa…Yooooooo!

Random Fun Facts

2009-02-10T02:34:00.000-08:00

10 months...or 310 days
14 countries / 19 languages
Thailand
Laos
Cambodia
Vietnam
Indonesia
Singapore
Malaysia
Myanmar
Nepal
Turkey

- Considering the amount of land I have covered, I have taken only 12 flights
- Favorite country - Nepal, with Vietnam as a close second
- Least favorite country - Singapore (sorry Luis but I did have fun there)
- Overall favorite foods by country - Nepal, Malaysia (but only Penang-Thanks Dan), Thailand

- Lived six weeks in a place that was without electricity 12-16 hours a day
- Longest time without a shower - 4 days (Indonesia)
- Longest time without a real shower (meaning rinsing with water while wearing a sarong) - 9 days (West Nepal)
- Most showers in one day - 4 (both Thailand and Indonesia)
- Different types of whiskey sampled - 16
- Cheapest beer - $0.40...in Vietnam
- Longest bus journey- 28 hours (Nepal)
- Longest train ride - 16 hours (Vietnam)
- Least amount of money spent in one day which included accommodation - $7.40
- Most amount of money spent in one day on only accommodation, food, beverage - $68.00
- Most expensive country overall with the exception of Singapore because I think of it as a city - Malaysia

- Spent 9 days in quarantine dealing with a month-long severe eye infection
- Suffered bronchitis twice, strep throat once, something doctors thought could be Dengue Fever, twisted knee which caused me to miss the Mt. Kinabalu hike in Malaysia and other minor viruses
- Twice, thrown up on by children on buses
- An old woman tried to hand me her bag of orange vomit on a 12-hour bus ride in Laos
- Ate BBQ rat and lizard as well as various smoked animal organs (Nepal)
- Attended weddings in two different countries (India and Nepal)
- 2 Regrets: Missing a really interesting train ride in Cambodia, and not spending time at an Ashram
- Sang solo in front of local people 8 different times in three countries

Every Moment

2009-02-09T11:54:00.000-08:00

To see the touch of the moment ıs to be alıve.
To feel the touch of the moment ıs to be aware.
To lıve the touch of the moment ıs to be free.
To leave a touch on the moment ıs to be yourself.

I walk the paths of the unknown to better understand.
The understandıng ıs there but the dots do not connect.
To complete the pıcture, I have to stop walkıng and reflect.
The reflectıon I see ıs what I know I want.
What I want ıs harder to achıeve than what I have walked.
I wıll take a step further to antıcıpate the future.
The future ıs only ın the unexpected.
To know ıt would make the path unpassable.

Back to Basıcs...ın the The Vıllage of Gogıgoun...wıth the Tharu people

2009-01-25T10:33:00.000-08:00

Perhaps the most specıal experıence of thıs journey.
I hope you're ready because ıt's a long one but worth the read.

As I made the 28 hour journey vıa four different buses and a two hour jeep ride, I was hopıng for a unique experience like no other yet on this travel. The bus rides and transfers were a good start. People, bags of rice and goods, luggage and tanks of local whiskey filled the buses past their capacity. Random children sat on my lap as we were sandwiched in for the ride. I arrived at the village mid-morning and was greeted by women and men while most children hid behind things to take a peek a the "white skin" that had arrived. Few, if any, Westerners go to this part of West Nepal, especially to a small village so it was very exciting for everyone. Even as we approached, it was as if someone had run ahead to alert everyone that I was coming. It was a nice welcome. I presented my gifts of 20 wool shawls, oranges, chocolate and a few items of clothıng I no longer wanted. I had a "shower", a cup of tea and was whisked away to the first house. First let me tell you about my shower and then a little about the village.

I showered rıght outsıde the back door of the house at the water well pump. There are no walls. I wore nothıng but a sarong...a pıece of fabrıc wrapped and tıed at the chest. Water from the pump ıs freezıng cold but ıt was mıxed wıth water ın a bıg pot that had been boıled ın the kıtchen. Usıng a drınkıng pıtcher, I poured water on myself and under the sarong to clean and rınse. Meanwhıle, adults walked by freely and kıds stood and stared to see how I would do wıth my fırst vıllage shower.

I could walk the village from one end to the other in a slow five minute walk. Houses are made of bricks covered in mud paste atop a foundatıon of stones from the river. Uneven, hard-packed dirt floors throughout. Wooden doors and shutters. Houses are one-or-two story made up of simple square rooms wıth no adornement except the basic necessities. In my two-story house, one room was filled wıth potatoes. Another housed the family temple. Others were bedrooms besides the kitchen. Sunshine and moonlight makes its way through the wood slat A-frame ceıilings which are covered with cobwebs, dirt, splattered mud. Bamboo poles positioned in the bricks while being biılt serve as shelf hanging device across the top of the room. Beds are made of wood slats covered in dried mud. Most people sleep on just a blanket but they placed two blankets on mine for cushıon. The pillow felt like a rock. Huge rice storage containers are throughout the house, many which serve as room dividers in the simpler open-space homes.

The toılet ıs an outhouse out back shared by two homes...about 12 people. Out the back door, across the dırt path, past the buffalo, around the trash burnıng area to the outhouse where the door kınd of closed on wobbly rope hınges. Very ınterestıng expedıtıon ın the mıddle of the nıght. Toılet paper dıd not make ıts way wıth us to the vıllage so I can say that after 9.5 months ın Asıa, not only have I mastered the squatter toılet, I can do the job wıthout toılet paper no matter the occassıon. I have never ın my lıfe needed hand sanıtızer more than then. Although I dıd ıt, I dıdn't lıke ıt so after a day, I chose one of my T-shırts and ıt became my toılet paper after rıppıng ıt ınto pıeces.

A few other notes about my tıme ın the vıllage: Drank local water for tea and coffee whıch was never boıled. Ate food that was kılled, cleaned and cooked on the dırt floor ın front of me usıng utensıls that are not ever really cleaned. Ate pıeces of fruıt and food handed to me by chıldren wıth fılthy hands...but ıt was rude not to accept ıt. Soap ıs not used to wash dıshes but rather a paste ıs made from ash (from the cookıng ın the kıtchen) and mud from the ground. All dıshes are tın and pots are metal so they're just scrubbed "clean".

I awoke around 5am by the sounds of the house and vıllage comıng to lıfe. All water ıs pumped from the water well below my wındow at the back of the house...whıch ıs where I showered. Roosters announce the wake-up call. Bırds chırp. Hay pıles are rearranged and new hay ıs fed through the machıne. Tın dıshes clank as they're washed at the pump. The trash pıle ıs burned every mornıng so that smell snuck ıts way up to my room. Smoke from the mornıng cookıng ın the kıtchen downstaırs fılled the house and made ıts way to my room and I was forced to cover my head wıth the blanket ın order to breathe. (Sometımes the smoke was so thıck I couldn't see the bottom of the staırs from the top.) But ıt told me I could get a cup of hot tea so ıt served as my wake-up call.

In the kıtchen, space was made for me to squat or sıt on a wood seat (flat on the floor). The attempt of communıcatıon began for the day. Tın dıshes or stıck-sewn leaf bowls of food were placed ın front of me on the dırt floor. Usually meat and potatoes and cooked berrıes...untıl they realızed ıt was a bıt much for my system and I got semı-hard boıled eggs. Note that thıs was festıval tıme and I was a guest so I got to eat the eggs whıch are usually allowed to hatch to become chıckens whıch are raısed and then used as food for them. I felt a bıt guılty eatıng what should be somethıng that sustaıns theır food supply ın a couple months.

So how dıd I spend my days? The person I went wıth, Kamal, ıs essentıally responsıble for the vıllage even though he lıves ın Kathmandu. The house where I stayed ıs hıs house now but belonged to hıs mother so hıs extended famıly lıves there now and works the land. There ıs a great amount of honor bestowed on Kamal when he vısıts. Because of thıs and my presence, we were "requested" to vısıt varıous homes each day throughout our stay. Each vısıt was basıcally the same. We sat on mats on the floor or on theır beds whıch become the sıttıng area durıng the day wıth the balnket rolled to one sıde. Immedıately after sıttıng, eıther homemade rıce wıne or rıce whıskey ıs served...ın the tın cups. Then several foods appear ın separate dıshes ın front of each person. Currıed meats. Currıed potatoes. Stewed vegetables. Boıled eggs. Berrıes. No sılverware. I dıd my best but sometımes I hardly touched the food.

These vıllagers drınk whıskey and rıce wıne all day lıke ıt's water. I usually had my fırst glass by 10am and my last glass at mıdnıght. By the end, I had convınced them to pour only alı alı (a lıttle) at a tıme rather than waste ıt. Although I thınk anythıng that wasn't drank was poured back ınto the bucket. Usually an old plastıc bucket wıth lıd or a gas tank ıs where the potıon ıs kept. The rıce settles at the bottom. When served, I notıced a dıfference between homes. Some women stırred ıt (often tımes by hand) before servıng whıch meant I also had bloated rıce ın the drınk. The women always serve and eventually joın the group but rarely drınk...at least at those tımes. The focus ıs on the guest. The wıne ıs manageable but the whıskey ıs lethal. One glass (about 6 oz.) ıs enough to slow tıme and blur the focus.

Asıde from eatıng and drınkıng, I would do my best to communıcate wıth the lıttle Nepalese I speak. Sometımes I would sıt for an hour wıthout sayıng a word as Kamal and the men dıscussed vıllage busıness. Other tımes we were entertaıned by the vıllage comedıan or Kamal would do a good job at translatıng what was beıng dıscussed so I could take part and ask questıons. The vısıts lasted between one and three hours. We would go from house to house and repeat the process. Always at the end, I would be asked to "capture" a photo on my camera.

By the thırd day, the kıds dıdn't want to let me out of theır sıght. I played Nepalese Poker wıth them one nıght. Another nıght, they watched as Kamal and I played Rummy...whıch ıs somethıng I taught people back ın Kathmandu. Agaınst my personal character, I let hım wın most hands. Who am I to change vıllage rıtual? It felt lıke the rıght thıng to do.

What else occupıed sıx days? On our second day, we went to "town" vıa a two hour rıde on a buffalo cart. I drove part of the way. It wasn't much of a town but I secured clothıng and jewelry to dress as a tradıtıonal Tharu woman for the New Years Festıval the next day. Tharu ıs the caste of the people I was vısıtıng and theır culture celebrates New Years on Jan 14.

Another day we went crabbıng ın the jungle. Well, I watched as they dug theır arms ınto the mud of the stream. Later they dug holes lookıng for crabs and ended up dıggıng a 3 ft by 3 ft hole lookıng for what they saıd would be a 2kg crab. It took over 2 hours! We dıdnit catch ıt. Then they moved on to dıggıng up ground whıle trackıng the underground maze of what they thought was a rat. One hour later, after brıefly thınkıng they had cornered a poısonous snake, ıt ended up beıng a bıg lızard of some sort. They dıd end up catchıng a rat also. Belıeve ıt or not, I sampled both rat and lızard. These culınary delıghts were the fınal tıck that made my stomach protest the vıllage. Eatıng crabs two nıghts ın a row fresh from the mud, wıth only a slıght cookıng, dıdn't help...especıally after my share of whıskey.

One afternoon whıle at a house wıthout Kamal, 25 people gathered. I notıced people were more at ease when he wasn't around...lıke they could just be themselves and have fun wıth me. A couple men and many of the chıldren speak a lıttle Englısh so they were helpful ın facılıtatıng conversatıon. Sıta-she sang a beautıful Tharu song. The Sınger-he sang a Nepalese song. They all wanted me to sıng one song before they sang more. So I dıd my part and sang the same song I thınk I've now sang out loud for locals ın fıve countrıes. If you're a good reader of thıs blog, you'll know what ıt ıs but ın case note...Amazıng Grace. Over those sıx days, I was asked to sıng ıt seven tımes. Sınger Guy then contınued wıth more Nepalese songs, Tharu songs and Hındı songs.

On the day of the celebratıon, we were supposed to leave at 5am to "shower" ın the rıver an hours walk away. But I guess lıke many cultural tradıtıons that people forgoe because they're lazy or busy, ıt dıdn't happen. I was both relıeved and dısappoınted. At noon, women started gatherıng other women. One of Kamal's aunts who had taken a specıal lıkıng to me showed me the ropes throughout the day. (None of the women spoke Englısh). I got dressed wıth all the women complete wıth nose rıng, tıka, haır tassle, necklace and bangles to go wıth my whıte skırt and black top. I was as tradıtıonal Tharu as a "whıte skın gırl" could be! We made a few stops at women's homes for food and drınk. Thıs whole day (but espeıcally then) was one of the most specıal tımes wıth the women. They were not ınhıbıted by the men. They can't speak Englısh but we found a way to talk. They drank whıskey and grew excıted for the bıg event. Thıs festıval ıs the bıggest of the year and ıt's lıke a party for the women. I was told later that me beıng there made ıt even more specıal for them...and part of the reason they crıed when we all saıd goodbye.

At 4pm, we started the processıon of goıng from house to house throughout theır vıllage and two neıghborıng vıllages. The women sang the same song over and over clappıng and dancıng. One guy was wıth us who played the drum whıch provıded the rhythm. A "clapper" ınstrument was passed to me and they were all thrılled that I caught on very quıckly. At each new house, the Mınıster of the house does a ceremonıal thıng where she presents a plate of rıce wıth a candle and money. The maın dancer and me would hold a plate ın one hand, do the dance, hand ıt back to the Mınıster and contınue dancıng. And at certaın homes, the man of the house would lay out money (both paper and coıns) on fabrıc on the ground. The prımary dancer would then bend over backwards supportıng herself on her hands, feet and head to pıck up the money wıth her mouth or eyelıds. The money was hers to keep. I even dıd ıt twıce!! They loved ıt. I should mentıon that about 100 people were present throughout the whole evenıng. The crowd followed us from house to house down the dark roads sıngıng and dancıng and laughıng. And yes, whıskey and wıne ıs served to the women at each house. In Asıa, the thıng to do ıs everyone drınks from the same bottle or glass or pıtcher but you pour ıt ın your mouth wıthout ever touchıng ıt to your lıps. A few tımes I pretended drınk but dıdn't consume. It was the only way I could make ıt through that nıght.

My fınal day the women organızed the Jungle Pıcnıc. I dıd not know about thıs ın advance and was sıttıng ın my room by myself for the fırst tıme ın sıx days hopıng to capture some of my thoughts on paper. Suddenly fıve women and eıght chıldren crowded my room and talked ın a very excıted manner. Through body language and poıntıng, I realızed they wanted me to gather my Tharu dress ıtems and go wıth them. The next sıx hours were fılled wıth vısıons that you mıght see on a Natıonal Geographıc program. After dressıng, a small group of us made the walk back to the same jungle where we went crabbıng. (I forgot to mentıon before that there ıs a Woman Jungle and a Man Jungle. Respectıvely, they planned and planted theır areas that represent theır mınds and souls.)

Very quıckly after arrıvıng, women appeared from varıous parts of the jungle carryıng on theır heads all the necessary ıtems to prepare a feast. Pots, utensıls, food, spıces, huge bowls and jugs of water for cookıng, whıskey, wıne, everythıng. Enough food was made for 50 women! Imagıne how much stuff was carrıed to the jungle for thıs celebratıon! Tasks were dıvıded and work began. Around me were women choppıng wood for the fıres, dıggıng holes ın the ground for the fıres, kıllıng and preppıng of four chıckens, potatoes peeled, vegetables cut, spıces ground, etc. I helped do a lıttle of everythıng ıncludıng sıttıng wıth a group of women foldıng and sewıng (wıth thın stıck) jungle tree leaves to make our bowls and plates. The jungle was fılled wıth the laughter and serıousness of women. I would have done almost anythıng for a translator.

Once the food was prepared, everythıng was packed and moved to a nearby open fıeld. Some women dıshed the food for servıng whıle the rest of us posıtıoned ourselves ın a semı-cırcle around the food. The fırst thıng served? You guessed ıt...whıskey! Then the food. Very quıckly, ıt was as ıf somethıng ınsıde these women was unleashed. It wasn't just the whıskey. These women and the event takıng place before my eyes was lıke nothıng I have seen. Extraordınary! Theır laughter was lıke musıc. Theır movements lıke that of chıldren playıng ın a park on a perfect sunny afternoon. Strong but carefree. Lıke they were free from the daıly grınd that ıs theır lıves. Of course, thıs ıs the lıfe they know. And ıt was Lıfe and a prosperous New Year that they were celebratıng. For me, I was wonderıng what event or celebratıon at home to equate ıt to. I'm stıll tryıng to come up wıth an answer.

When the last drop of whıskey was honored, we danced ın the fıeld. Everyone took turns pullıng me to the center of the cırcle. Photos were captured untıl my camera battery depleted. We sang and danced our way back to the vıllage stoppıng at houses that had a lıght on. We repeated the New Years day festıvıtıes all over agaın!

It was a day I wıll never forget. You know those days when you need to thınk of somethıng to remınd yourself of what ıs ımportant to put thıngs ın perspectıve? Thıs wıll be my memory for a very long tıme. I gıve many thanks for the experıence. I am unable to fully express what ıt means to me and I wıll not dımınısh ıt by tryıng.

On my last day, tıme passed too quıckly. It was suddenly tıme to say goodbye. The Mınıster of the House where I stayed was not a dırect famıly member and I belıeve she ıs about 16 years old. She handles any money and possessıons of the household and ıs responsıble for the house, coordınatıon of chores, etc. My thank you gıft when I left was to be gıven to her rather than the mother and father. We started at one end of the vıllage and made our way from house to house sayıng goodbye. Wıth each house we left, the famıly followed us to the next house. By the tıme we reached the end, the whole vıllage had gathered behınd us as we clımbed onto the buffalo cart that was waıtıng for us at the end of the vıllage. The famıly we stayed wıth and the famıly of the one specıal Aunt were at the buffalo cart to say goodbye last.

The mother saıd a fınal goodbye to her son Gyano (the boy I mentıoned earlıer who ıs the nephew of Kamal and lıves at the hotel for the chance of a better lıfe than that of the vıllage) and her daughter. She burst ınto sobs and turned her back to cry. She hadn't seen her daughter for three years even though she lıves ın Kathmandu. Fınal blessıngs were exchanged through the act of touchıng the forehead of those younger than them wıth the hand as that person touches theır hand wıth both hands.

From the buffalo cart, I watched as the Tharu people went out of sıght as we rounded a curve. I started to cry and we were all sılent for the fırst hour of the two hour buffalo cart rıde to the "town" to catch our fırst bus of our 30 hour journey back to Kathmandu.

Thank you to the people of Gogıgoun vıllage.

My Life in Nepal

2009-01-07T09:54:00.000-08:00

I returned to Kathmandu, Nepal exactly one month ago today. As I mentioned before, I was feeling the need to exist in one spot for a while. I chose Nepal because I fell in love with the country immediately after first arriving November 6. There is a special energy here. The history and culture. The architecture and colors. The people. It's spiritual without being religious. It's calm and crazy at the same time. A few words that come to mind when I think of how to define life here are primitive, simple and old-world.

Before leaving for India, I had made new friends and developed interesting relationships with a small group of people. I'm staying at a guesthouse for free in exchange for helping them with some things like their marketing efforts and website. I occasionally work the reception desk and talk with guests about the tours and treks offered by the guesthouse. Let's just say it's a different world of Marketing. I (try to)help the staff improve their English and they're teaching me a bit of Nepalese. I've been told several times that how I say something is not how the English say it. Thank you bloody England! :-) It's a very family-type atmosphere.

The Nepalese government has mandated a schedule that leaves us without electricity for 12 hours a day...and most of it is during the day. That means no light or things that require plug-in, no computer, no hot water. There are only a few hours of the day when a hot shower is available due to the electricity schedule because once we have electricity, we have to wait for the Geezer to warm the water. There is no indoor heating...and with no electricity, there is no space heater option. The temperature ranges from 35F to 60F but the guesthouse stays about 10 degrees cooler because no sunshine or warm breeze makes its way in. So I sleep in a room that feels like it's 30F with windows and a door that do not completely shut. I've become very good at showering, reading, playing cards, cooking by candlelight. The cable in my room no longer works but I can watch movies via DVD. However, it's hit or miss with the electricity. And I rarely get to see the end of a movie because the black market DVDs I buy are usually damaged.

Every day is essentially the same but different. Some days I never leave the guesthouse. Other days I'll walk a bit around the area or talk with tourists...although it's the off season so they are few. I attended a Hindu wedding in a small mountain town. I've eaten wild boar, buffalo, local chicken, the liver of something, pork skin, etc. I spent one day at an orphanage. I help cook most every night and eat with the staff...although the owner, his 9-year old nephew and I eat before the staff. We use two old gas burners powered by a propane tank for all the cooking. There is no stove or microwave. Mongul, the cook, is deaf. So Gyano, the 9-year old and the deaf cook teach me how to cook Nepalese foods. I eat Dahl Baaht and curry every night. We eat with our fingers...and this includes fried eggs (at my request) on some nights...and it's showing in my curry-stained fingernails. For those unsure, Dahl Baaht is rice with a liquid broth poured over top. Combine that with a saucy curry and imagine eating with your fingers. Washing my hands usually means only rinsing them with water in the kitchen unless I go to my room for soap. Drinks are not typically served with a meal but rather hot water is drank after the meal. All dishes are washed outside the kitchen over the cracked cement from a rubber hose attached to the wall. This is the same cement area where an illegally killed dear was skinned/prepared for rooftop BBQ and a chicken was killed and drained of blood before it was used to make curry. And no, Clorox is not used to disinfect the area. It's amazing that I have not gotten sick. And it makes me wonder again just how necessary all the cleaning/hygienic products we are convinced to buy really are. I have spent a considerable amount of time thinking of Marketing...how it relates to my life prior to travel, what it means, what it could (or in my opinion) should mean. I trust I will carry these sentiments within me upon my return to the real world...or should I say my old world.

Vegetables we buy are laid out on cloths on the ground and sold by candlelight once evening approaches. Meat and fish are bought at separate "stands" on the street where the whole of the animal/meat is on display. We carry the items home in small plastic bags (that barely hold the items) without being first wrapped in anything. This also means they are up for grabs to the open air filled with dust, germs and pollution from the streets. While I'm on the topic of food, I can't resist but offer the information that many people here chew with there mouth open. Such a horrific smacking sound is made because of what we're eating. I'm close enough here to a few people that at times when I can't take it anymore, I reach over and clamp their lips shut with my fingers. At first, they didn't know what to do but now a smile appears. And if they're trying to give me a hard time, they come and smack in my ears on purpose when I'm not expecting it. I'll just say there's a lot less smacking going on around here at Hotel Poon-Hill.

My days pass slowly and at the end, I don't know where they've gone. Some days are noisy and so filled with distractions that I am unable to complete a thought. Other days are extremely quiet and peaceful. There is vast contradiction to what makes me long for AND cringe over the idea of returning to the Westernized way of life with its privileges and unnecessary expectations. I live in conditions that I thought would never be acceptable to me...and I quite like it.

Nepal is an interesting place to call "home" for a short while. Traveling has been exciting and provided many life lessons but staying in one place for a while is giving me irreplaceable insights. In this time, I've really had the chance to somewhat understand the Nepali life. My friends have shared stories that leave me speechless. The stories could be from books on the Best Sellers list for adventure books for kids or how to survive life in the jungle.

There is amazing strength in people. Yes, it's all relative to where we are born, how we are raised, what is fair and not fair, what is acceptable, etc. In the 10 countries I have visited and because I do my best to interact with mostly locals, I have seen and experienced hardships that for me are unsettling but is all that these people know in their lives. I'm not trying to sound over philosophical but it is a topic that consumes my mind lately. As I continue to wrap my head around what it is I'm saying and feeling, I'll put it into better words. But for now, I will say there is a rawness to life in Asia (as there is across the globe) and it has earned my tremendous respect and gratitude.

A few other thoughts about Nepal, Nepali life and its Nepalese people.
- There is a kindness in the rudeness.
- A smile fills the void of a "Thank You" and after a while, I understand the replacement.
- There are acts of appreciation that go unnoticed unless you string them all together to make sense.
- The simplicity of a task that seems complex really is that simple.
- The record keeping and procedural way of doing business is so inefficient but it works here because of the level of advancement that is Kathmandu and Nepal.
- There is an old-world and traditional lifestyle that has been infiltrated with enough Westernisms that it seems two worlds have collided and are stuck in time with its existence.

I leave day after tomorrow for West Nepal with a close friend. We will stop in Pokhara for two days which is said to be a beautiful small town centered around a lake with amazing close views of the Himalayas. We will then spend four days in a small village where Gyano's family lives. (Note, he lives with his uncle here so that he can have a better life.) They are of the Tharu cast and their New Year is celebrated on the 14th. I will help the village people prepare for the festival. I haven't asked too many questions but I don't want to know what to expect. I do know though that I will have to shower outside the hut in a three-walled bathing area (kind of in public) while wearing a sarong. The "shower" will consist of a bar of soap and using buckets of heated water to pour over my head to rinse. Yes, I've done this here at the hotel when I really wanted to bathe but didn't have hot water. Doing it in a village...with probably children staring to see how I do...will be a different story.

I promise to update you and finish sharing Nepal with you before leaving for Istanbul on Jan 18th.

The Grand Finale of India - Goa

2008-12-23T23:53:00.000-08:00

It was a long day as we flew to Goa with a three hour layover in Mumbai. There was added security via military with guns and K-9 dogs but nothing crazy two days after the terrorist attacks. We had reserved a beach bungalow in what we were told was an area still a secret to many travelers. In the 1.5 hour drive from the airport, it was as if we had entered an entirely different country. Complete contrast to Northern India. Exhausted after no sleep the night before, we took a three hour nap and went to dinner at the beach restaurant just 100 yards away. On your side of the world, did you see or hear about the rare phenomenon of Venus and Jupiters proximity to the moon? Over the water, it seemed near enough to take a seat in the half moon and be a part of the smile that appeared in the sky.

Over the next five days, we lounged on the beach, explored the neighboring beach areas and watched the sun disappear into the Arabian Sea every evening. We went to Panaji, the capital of Goa, for our last two days. Beautiful Portugese city. Quiet, slow pace, not many tourists.

My time with Sandi ended on December 8 when she flew back to London. For the last eight months, I've traveled alone with the exception of a few friends who joined me along the way for a short time. I wasn't sure how it would be to have a traveling partner...and yes, I told Sandi this...but I can honestly say it was so wonderful to spend a month together. Thanks Sandi for joining me...and for enduring India together. They are memories you and I shall never forget.

At this point, I've had some time to reflect on my visit to India. I realize that the prior blog entries make it sound as if we had a horrible experience. Let me be clear and provide a few lasting thoughts. I'll speak for Sandi and say that neither of us regret going to India. It is a very large country and we visited only a few places. India is beautiful...from the amazing colors to the unique architecture. A fascinating place to experience. Life is different than that of any place I've visited. Obviously, we went to the more tourist areas and our experiences were somewhat defined by that fact. The hard truth is that it is a difficult country for travel...especially for a woman. Everyone agrees. Perhaps if I had not already traveled for almost eight months, I may have had more energy and patience. And I wouldn't have been comparing it to places and experiences in Southeast Asia where my heart felt full. I have an appreciation for India. For what it was. What it is. What it may become. Will I travel India again? I think the answer is yes but only under differenct circumstances and with a larger budget. Thank you India for opening my eyes to something I will forever remember.

Further into India - Jaipur, Pushkar, Udaipur

2008-12-19T01:22:00.000-08:00

Entered the new State of Rajasthan, India hoping for a different experience. Jaipur is home of the Pink City...which we found is not really pink. The walled-in Old City has buildings that are a terra cotta color and kind of look pink at sunset. A slight disappointment. The Amber Palace and Fort Agra outside of town is just now being rennovated for tourism but was well worth a look due to some stunning rooms. Sandi and I pretended to know the life of a concubine as we roamed the secret passageways. We were then dropped at the Old City. At this point, we thought we had it made by having a respectable and helpful guesthouse owner. He was our driver that day. That night he invited himself to have drinks with us on the rooftop. Interesting conversation was had as we ate a dinner that he insisted on serving us...which he charged us for in the end...but that was probably because we didn't let things go his way. By the end of our time there, he repeatedly invited himself into our plans and even on a day trip to Pushkar. Uh, no thank you strange man!

Two nights in Japipur turned into four nights in order to deal with Sandi's stomach issue and my sore throat as well as our need to rethink the rest of our India travel plans. We were thinking we had had enough. We pushed through our illnesses and still did a daytrip to Pushkar. It didn't work out exactly as we planned. The day consisted of eight hours on the bus there and back with only three hours to spend in Pushkar. We loved the little relaxed town but perhaps that was because we were only there for a short time. It's centered around a lake and is essentially a place tourists go to hang out and be lazy. It's small but beautiful. Our third favorite place in India.

That night, we decided to eliminate Jaisalamer and Mumbai from our itinerary and go straight to Udaipur and Goa. Sandi was unable to get an earlier flight so we were determined to make the most of our time in India while trying to find a place that better suited us. A couple hours later at 3am, Sandi received a call from her Andy notifying us of the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. I guess it was a good decision the night before that we made to skip Mumbai. We did however have to buy a flight ticket that had a layover in Mumbai two days later.

Night train delivered us to Udaipur the morning of Nov. 29. We immediately fell in love with the city. It's known as the Venice of the East...and we agree! It's picturesque, quiet, clean, serene and relatively free of touts. The city is situated around two lakes. From the waters edge (or a boat ride as we took), it's surrounded by palaces, Havelia (heritage) hotels, ghats and store fronts. The main lake is where you find the Lake Palace which was featured in the James Bond film Octupussy. After walking through the Rose Garden, we went to a palace on the top of a mountain to watch the sunset. I got an Aryvedic Indian massage the first night which is essentially where you have two litres of oil poured on your forehead that runs through your hair. I then joined Sandi on our rooftop for dinner. I found her talking to The Prince as we refer to him...aka owner of the guesthouse. We splurged on this hotel by spending $16 each per night rather than the usual $8 max. Earlier that day we were fitted for our Sari's to wear to an Indian wedding the next night night.

The next day we picked up our Sari's, bought jewelry and I got a Henna tattoo on both hands and wrists. Don't worry...it's not permanent! We toured the City Palace and had lunch where Sandi finally found a good white wine. Our boat ride around the Lake Palace greeted us with a light rain. We dressed for the wedding in the woman's home who made our Sari's. She didn't speak English. Neither Sandi nor I thought the Sari's were flattering but we bowed to tradition and local custom. We did look stunning though! The wedding was actually the Reception Dinner. An open lawn area filled with people standing and sitting while dance music played...though there was no dancing.

One of the things I have most enjoyed on this journey is observing the societal dynamics from country to country. Between men and women. Between locals and tourists. Of the incredible cultural traditions. Some countries are so steep in their culture that I feel I'm walking through the story of a fairy tale book. For example at this wedding, men and women stayed separate, whether eating, talking or just waiting. Some women who I'm guessing were the more affluent came up to say hello but spoke very little English. Others sheepishly smiled and kept their distance. Children were eager to say hello but the teenage girls would stand at a distance. Men roamed freely amongst the group, greeting us and asking a few questions. Very polite in this instance. The younger men surrounded us for the evening competing for our attention.

Dinner was buffet style and there were very few plastic chairs so we stood to eat rather than sit on the ground in our Sari's like many of the women. We presented the groom with our gifts which seemed a little awkward considering we didn't know what they were since they were purchased for us by our host. It's a privilege to have
Westerners attend a wedding. Women asked to have their photos taken with us on our cameras. Unfortunately, as these months pass, my camera is beginning to want to enter retirement. It won't hold a charge or take decent photos at night. So when the women would see the photos on screen, they kept wanting to redo it not understanding that it was the camera and not them taking a bad photograph. Because the reception was the night before and the wedding the night before that, this event was somewhat stoic.

We left after a couple hours and sat side saddle in our Sari's on motorbike. The Prince and some other guests were still enjoying the rooftop view out over the lake when we returned. We stayed up all night talking of life in India, cultural differences to that of America and the life of a tourist. We talked so long that we didn't have time to shower before leaving for the airport and 5:30am. Some things are worth sacrificing for lasting memories.

Onward in India - Agra

2008-12-19T00:54:00.000-08:00

Our sleeper train delivered us four hours late the next morning to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. To distract us from the grossness of our bodies covered in bites, we showered and properly dresses as women to make us feel better. Starving, we went for a rooftop lunch where we proceeded to lounge all afternoon over multiple bottles of beer. We did not make it to see the Taj but went to a different rooftop with a view of Taj for more drinks. We made our way back to the previous rooftop across from our hotel for dinner and enjoyed two bottles of wine and excellent Indian food. Sandi loves the Chipati. Jen loves the Naan.

Day 2 in Agra we awoke at 6am to see the sunrise behind the Taj.(Note, we stayed in a very clean guesthouse that night.) The Taj is a magnificent structure worth the effort of visiting India. We then revisited the same rooftop for more wine and actually decided to extend our stay in India. This is such an incredible statement to write at this point because we decided again with 48 hours to leave as soon as Sandi could get a flight. More on that later. I haven't mentioned all the times we had been screwed over, ticked and taken advantage of. I think I've become a savvy traveler but it doesn't work for me here. Whether t's money, time, expectations or answers, this is the most dishonest and disrespectful place I've ever been. We may describe more later but I'm trying to refuse to let this topic take over this message to you. I knew it existed before I arrived and that it would be a challenge. It works for some travelers but this is not a place conducive to our personal character.

On our way to the train station, we asked our richshaw driver to stop so we could arm ourselves again with whiskey for the 13 hour night train that left at 6:20. He escorted Sandi across the street and made her hand him the money to buy it for us since apparently it's bad for women to buy it themselves. Sandi and I have both purchased in the past week and it's obvious by the stares and smiles we receive. Men literally swarm around us wherever we are.

We arrived at the platform at 6pm and the train started moving so we jumped on as it was pulling away. Two minutes later we realized we were on the wrong train but it was going to fast to jump off. Enter Chaos to the traveling scene of Sandi and Jen. We deboarded at the next stop with the advice from a man who actually helped us. Seeing as the train ticket is not in English, he informed us we had been dropped off at the wrong station to begin with. We cursed the error of our last driver. The Nice Man (as we named him) assured us our train was running late and that we could still make it. Our rickshaw driver did the best he could to quickly maneuver the streets bu we ran into a parade. This might be a good time to share with you the typical street scene in India. Imagine big trucks, little trucks, cars, horsecarts, autorickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, bicycles, motorbikes, cows, boars, buffalo and yaks, people and an occasional camel moving on the streets in all directions on both sides of the road with no order. It's complete chaos. Horns blare nonstop. Smoke fills the air. Street vendors wander the roads and people are eating as the world goes by inches away from the food they're putting in their mouths. Ok, back to the chaos.

We ran into the correct train station and reached the platform at 6:50pm. Indeed, our train was late. We didn't pull away from the station until 8pm. It may not sound like much as you read this but it was ridiculous. It was like a "Sandi & Jen Amazing Race Asia" episode in slow motion. While waiting on the platform with electricity going in and out, a little boy of about 5 of 6 years old was fascinated with us. For 30 minutes, he laughed, giggled, jumped, danced and played hide and seek with us. Sandi and I genuinely laughed and smiled for the first time since leaving Nepal...except for our rooftop time with drinks in hand. People around us watched and finally decided it was ok to smile at the situation. The parents of the boy were loving it the whole time. The Sadhu/Holy Man sitting on the floor finally convinced the boy to shake our hands and give us a kiss on the cheek which we happily returned.

This time we mixed our drinks in the toilet...aka bathroom of the train. Finally got good seats on the train where we didn't have to share the seats with anyone so our luck turned. Drink in coke bottles but also realized we had a few voyeurs on the train constantly staring (which gets old quickly). As the night progressed we refilled from our seats so the bottles was mostly concealed but after finally engaging in conversation with the Indian family occupying the 6 seats across from us (including one of the starers who turned out to be nice) we realized drinking is forbidden on the train. Also Jen's tattoo was pointed out again and the Hindu mother politely but strongly suggest she modify it to a flower. Train arrived at midnight to Jaipur and luckily Manog our guesthouse owner was still there to pick us up after arriving late. The place looked clean and he seemed nice so we settled off to a relaxing sleep.

Welcome to India

2008-12-05T18:58:00.000-08:00

After a lovely two days in Chitwan National Park in Nepal, we boarded a local bus for India. Before crossing the border we had eight hours to kill so we got screwed out of $20 to go see where Buddha was born. The border crossing process was like no other I have experienced. Reservations were made in advance but we again got screwed out of the car that we arranged and were literally forced onto a VERY LOCAL bus...costing even more money. This was after I made a huge scene on the street complete with loudness, arguing, profanity and trying to call the man who made the reservation. But my phone didn't work and we're sure the guy on the street called one of his friends pretending to be "our guy" because he wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise and we were hung up on twice. And this was after someone tried to grab our bags off the bicycle rickshaw as we crossed the border. The Immigration Office was an old wooden desk on the street where total mayhem ensued with absolutely no order. Being the only two women on the bus after dark, it was an uncomfortable ride as we were stared at for four hours....and "accidentally" brushed up against in inappropriate ways. A crazy movie played at the front of the shanty bus. Stops were not announced so we weren't sure where to get off and we were cutting it close to make our night train on to Varanasi. We were followed to the train station and onto the train by a guy who would not leave until I raised my voice at him in front of others to embarrass him.

We arrived Varanasi at 5am to find a guesthouse in the dark. Sandi stayed in the car to keep watch on our bags as I was led on a 10-minute speed-walk through dark alleys filled with cows, dogs, homeless people, huge piles of cow shit, heaps of garbage and flies only to find the guesthouse had no vacancies. Back through the passageways and onto another place. We checked in, slept for a couple hours and dined on the rooftop for breakfast.

Allow us to try and describe Varanasi. Think of the worst place you've ever been and magnify that by an infinite number. I realize this sounds a bit harsh so let me recite a few words from the Travelers Bible...aka Lonely Planet. The City of Shiva (Hindu God) is one of the holiest places in India where Hindu pilgrims go to wash away a lifetime of sins in the Ganges River or to cremate their loved ones. The city is the beating heart of the Hindu universe, a crossing place between the physical and spiritual worlds, and the Ganges is viewed as a river of salvation, an everlasting symbol of hope to past, present and future generations. The most intimate rituals of life and death take place in public on the city's ghats. It's literally where people go to die. It runs along the Ganges River which is lined with bathing Ghats. The Ganges River is so heavily polluted at Varanasi that the water is septic - no dissolved oxygen exists. Samples from the river show the water has 1.5 million fecal coliform bacteria per 100mL of water. In water that is safe for bathing this figure should be less than 500!!

Here is a bit about the cremations with rudimentary explanation based on what we witnessed and our basic understanding. Considering what is happening, it's quite unceremonious for the most part. Several hundred cremations take place every day...and often times only a few people were present for the ritual. Sitting by the river, we saw the following. A body is placed on the cement just inches from where people are walking...including us many times. It is covered in a white or colorful sheet. Flowers and other items are placed on top. The body is then carried to the river and placed on the ground so that the feet are in the Ganges River. In the meantime, wood is purchased and stacked in preparation for the cremation. We were told that the amount of wood and type of wood depends on the age, status, caste of the dead. In other words, more money is spent on better wood for those who "deserve" it. Huge stacks of wood line the river where people go to weigh it on scales that look like their 1,000 years old. The body is then placed on or within the stack of wood along with straw and other fire starters. Old rubber tires were also sometimes used for burning..which added to the toxicness of the air. The sheet quickly burns away and reveals the burning body beneath. The burning process can take many hours so imagine what the scene looks like if several hundred cremations take place every day.

There is much more to this ritual and religion that I am unable to explain but I also want to share this with you. Aspects of the Hindu religion dictate that children are not to be cremated because they are considered pure. So children under 10 or 12 years old are simply thrown into the river. Unfortunately, there is not much of a current to take them away so they often times float at waters edge, become bloated and are often desecrated by cows, dogs and birds thinking they are food. Sandi and I were speechless the first time we saw this sight. We were walking along the river and stopped in our tracks as we watched (and heard) a dog gnaw off the foot of a body. A group of cows coming towards us brought us back to the moment. We moved aside so they could pass and then walked in silence for a bit. Did I mention that cows are holy and always have the right of way? Even on the street amongst cars, rickshaws and pedestrians.

The air smells of burning trash and burning bodies which are dumped into the Ganges where people bathe daily. People wash their clothes and dishes in this same holy river. Uh, think of the statistic I noted above. And I will note for my importance that we did not have our laundry done in the city.

The river is lined with Ghats, temples, shacks, homes, guesthouses and touts trying to sell you an assortment of odd remembrances. We weren't sure we wanted something to remind us of the place. We spent the day walking the river, watched a couple cremations, took in the sights of the locals, were sprayed with Ganger River water which I think contaminated our feet as we breathed in the toxicness of Varanasi. At times, it was so difficult to breathe, I think we took five years off our lives in the 48 hours we were there.

Later in the day we noticed our feet and ankles were covered in hundreds of bed bug bites. Initially we thought they were from the very unhygienic sleeper train beds where we were in fact bitten by mosquitoes. Sandi actually was blessed with eight mosquito bites on her face alone. ..the only area of skin she didn't cover after we saw the swarm of them around our beds. Turns out the bed bug bites were from our couple hour nap that morning after we first arrived but we didn't realize it until the next day when we awoke with many many more bites after sleeping in tank tops.

After Day 1 we were ready to go but needed a night sleeper train ticket which typically needs to be bought in advance during this busy time of year. Luckily, we got one...but only because we ignored the advice of the guesthouse owners that it was impossible. I never believe what I am told since early on this travel so we went to the train station ourselves to investigate the ticket situation. We walked on the the Ganges area that we didn't see the day before. We stumbled upon an area of back alleyways filled with stores and vendors which was actually quite quaint. Note, it improved our assessment of Varansai We indulged in India desserts from a street vendor even knowing it was a risk to get sick...aka Delhi Belly.

The guesthouse had amazing food but the bed bugs put the place at the top of my list as the worst place I've stayed in eight months. (Sorry Sandi!) Bose, a part owner, was intellectually stimulating to talk with as he passionately spoke of India, Hinduism, Eastern vs Western vultures, tourists and philosophy. The other guy was creepy and actually used an appalling topic of conversation as an opener to flirt with us. Topic? Eating spicy food so one can clean their ass with water, not toilet paper...so the toilet paper could be given to the homeless instead of giving them money...which they now ask for only because of precedents that tourists have set. He claimed it's what Mother India would do. Ummm, whatever freak!

To help rid our mental images of Vara-Nasty, we armed ourselves with Indian Whiskey and Coke for the train while dreading the expected swarms of mosquitoes. Four Indian Dentists-in-Training who claimed to be doctors gave us a lecture and frowned on the fact that we were drinking. One particular girl informed me I have bad teeth and an offensive tattoo. (The Hindu "Om" tattoo is on my foot which is the most unsacred part of the body.) She informed Sandi she has bad skin. Who says honesty is the best policy?! So you can imagine the horror of Sandi and I discovering we would run out of whiskey before she stopped talking. Didn't matter how much we might have had to drink, they talked until 2am and never shut off the light.

As difficult of a place as it is to visit, we're glad we experienced Varanasi. We would have missed out had we not but we were glad to leave what Sandi so appropriately named Vara-Nasty.

Kathmandu #2

2008-12-05T05:01:00.000-08:00

A late night resulted in la ate start to begin our trek at 1pm rather than 7am. Prem, the Driver, dropped us off at the start of the "easy trek that 80-year-olds can do". Sandi hearing this the night before was sadly mistaken when we realized that the start was a 1.5 hour steep uphill climb that no one else seemed bothered by. The steep climb really was a surprise to our preconceived notion of this "easy" trek. Meanwhile, Jen was carrying the backpack that contained both Sandi and Jen's items for the three-day trek. Our late start and frequent stops resulted in diminishing daylight and eventual darkness as we approached the guesthouse. Unfortunately, I had one of my episodes where I waitied too long to eat and was on the verge of passing out. Fortunately, it was as we approached the small village. Kamal sensed the danger of the situation and checked us in to a place. Unfortunately again, my "state of mind and body" caused us to stay in a guesthouse different than as planned because of the need to get me some help. The guesthouse had no heat or electricity. We ate, drank a foul Rice Whiskey and played cards by candlelight. A space heater became available as we decided it was time to turn in for the night in prep for the next day of trekking.

Day 2 of the hike was more inline with what we thought an 80 year old could handle although it still took eight hours. Beautiful scenery and different terrain. With one hour left to hike, we stopped in a village to enjoy a drink and bought a "local" chicken to eat that night for dinner. Locals smiled and laughed as we headed out of town because I was carrying the chicken in my arms. I named it Rocky. We walked through Nagacourt, a mountain town, and found our guesthouse where we handed Rocky over to the chef. As feathers were plucked and sauce prepared, we enjoyed drinks on the rooftop. Our bone-in chicken and Nepali dishes were served by candlelight.

Day 3 we returned to Kathmandu. Sandi and I did some shopping and tried out the cocktail menu at several different places in Thamel. As we settled in at Buddha Bar, we were surprised to see our friends. Our Sandi & Jen Day turned into a Whiskey and Hookah Night. Sandi went clubbing.

After sleeping in the next morning we had lunch at Helena's which has the highest rooftop restaurant in Kathmandu. We walked the Thamel area and Sandi was off on motorbike again to see the biggest stuppa in Nepal, Bodnath. I had seen it the week prior, so I chilled in the garden.

That night at our guesthouse in a tiny "kitchen", we prepared homemade MoMo's for a group of 20 people, all of whom had become our friends over the past two weeks. It took three hours. MoMo's are like steamed dumplings filled with a variety of options. Ours were beef and I know this for sure because it was my bare hands mixing in all the spices into the raw meat. Sandi and I scooped, folded and pinched them to perfection. Oh, and the electricity was out so this was done by candlelight. Screwdrivers were the drink of choice. Nepali and Western songs were played via iPod. The homemade sauce and dumplings were devoured.

The next day we set off for Chitwan National Park with some Kathmandu friends. We spent three days, two nights doing jungle and elephant walks, canoe ride, elephant riding in the river which turned into more of a competition to see who could stay on the elephant the longest. I won. The first evening we enjoyed drinks riverside and watched the sun set. The second evening we ate a raditional Nepalese dinner on mats on the ground via candlelight. Again, I got to eat with my fingers! Note...Sandi prefers to use proper silverware when eating mush and rice. Traditional dance performances followed and Sandi and I joined in for the crowd to watch. Suddenly, it was as if the papparazzi had arrived with cameras flashing. Sandi left the quietness of traditional culture and ended up at a local rooftop restaurant. The locals doned her with a traditional man's National Hat and danced for hours. Again, she took home the Karoke prize. "What is hammered"? I should mention Sandi was lucky enough to ride motorbike for the six hours to Chitwan (she loved it!) but she was stuck with me on the bus the morning we headed to India. That morning, we waved a sad goodbye to our friends.

A Time for Change

2008-11-26T22:22:00.000-08:00

Hello from your friend, the stranger, on this side of the world. So much for my promise to get you up-to-date. The longer I travel, the less of a novelty it seems to me. This is my life and lifestyle rather than an experience...and therefore I get caught up with living rather than sharing. And even though I know that's ok, I really do wish I could adequately share this journey with you. So moving forward, I will share what and when I am able. It may be random, out of order and not so eloquently written but I'll be sharing.

I left Chicago eight months ago. I am not yet ready to go home but I've felt the need to stay in one place for a while rather than constantly move from place to place which can be physically, mentally and emotionally tiring. I have found the place but will share it with you in a while. And rather than catch you up on the last two months (which includes a visit to Myanmar), I'll start with the more present. My friend Sandi from home (who is living in London right now) joined me for a month of travel. I spent 10 days in Kathmandu, Nepal where she joined me for 9 more days before moving on to India. We're currently in Southern India in Goa. It's beautiful...and quiet.

Kathmandu, Nepal greeted me on Nov 6 with immediate experiences that I believe only long term travelers can understand. Call it fate, serendipity or simply good karma. Awaiting immigration approval, I met Adel from Syria living in Qutar. After discussing the lack of security at the airport, we planned an evening of gambling. I found myself at a Blackjack table with a group of older men from India, Pakistan and Afghanistan. Their English was still like a foreign language to my ears as they conversed about things I never thought I would be witness to. Surreal to say the least. (In the future, I'll try and go into this is more detail to give you a better understanding.) They didn't believe I was a solo American female traveling alone. Four hours later, I had gambled away over $100 of other people's money and had a lasting experience engraved in my mind.

Earlier that day after finding a guesthouse, I walked Kathmandu for three hours and fell in love with the place. Rather than chill in my room for two hours prior to my gambling engagement, I stopped by Buddha Bar on a whim. Seeing as I was the only one in the bar when I first arrived, I talked with the locals working the bar. Brief introductions and a good instinct resulted in plans at 10am the next day to tour the city on motorbike. Krishna drove me from place to place and shared his stories and theories. Auntie's Homemade Whiskey entered the scene early evening followed by a tour of the local clubs. Like I've said before, traveling alone has its privileges. Not once in that day did I see another Westerner on a bike. Unlike other places, motorbikes are not for hire. After only five hours of sleep and a full day on a bike after getting up at 4am, I felt I had a proper welcome to Kathmandu.

I spent the next few days walking the city, savoring Nepali Tea, meeting locals and developing friendships. One of those days was spent again on the motorbike driving through the hills close to Kathmandu and stopping in small villages for more Nepali Tea. Another day I visited Buddhist and Hindu temples outside Kathmandu...and even took in the new James Bond movie at the local cinema. At this point, Nepal was tried for first place with Vietnam in terms of beauty. And as for the Nepali Tea? Water, tea, milk and spices such as Cardamon, Masala, Anise and Ginger boiled to deliciousness. Locals enjoy probably 15 small cups a day. For those of you who know I love coffee, be in awe that I've had only about 4 cups in the last five weeks!

My friend Sandi from home, who is loiving in London for a year, joined me one week after I arrived. My new friendships with the locals (who have connections at the airport) allowed me the privilege of waiting for Sandi inside the airport which is typically not allowed. Sandi's delayed flight combined with Visa lines made it a pure luxury for me to be inside. The drive to the guesthouse gave Sandi the same feeling of being in a place she would fall in love with as well. Welcome to Poon Hill Sandi! Yes, Poon Hill is the name. Knowing how excited I was to see her, my new friends hosted a rooftop BBQ to welcome her. That morning as I ate breakfast in the garden, two guys hauled in a deer they had just hunted down at sunrise. I watched as they skinned, cleaned and prepped for the feast that night. Candlelight. Wine and Whiskey. Spicy meat on the bone of deer, wild buffalo and pork. Karoke ensued. Sandi won the prize for best entertainer. The fake-Captain told his war stories. Singer Guy. Mr. Prem. Night came to close with late night/early morning self portraits of us and our new friends.

Sandi spent her first day on motorbike touring the sights. A group of us went to the local Hindu Temple that evening where we were blessed to see a ceremony that was more lavish and ceremonial than our hosts had ever seen. Music, fire batons, priest dancing at waters ede. Woman dancing in traditional form. It was in honor of a typical Hindu cremation alonside the river. Spent three hours taking in the scene...which included a spectacular sunset. On the way home, Sandi was treated to chocolate cake and hot chocolate as I waited in the courtyard drinking an Everest Beer (in honor of the neighboring Himalayas) to give thanks that I didn't crash on the way home due to the missing headlight on our scooter.

We were then escorted to dinner at a fantastic Korean restaurant in Thamel, sit down style, garden table, white lights, and after numerous shots of rice wine we had a memorable night. I taught them the Western way of "Toasting" and we took turns making Toast...enough to go around four times each for the four of us. Sandi went dancing and drinking with the locals -- bothered by the fact that she was in a Patagonia jacket and flip flops at a club listening to dance tunes. Jen played Shithead cards and drank whiskey with the locals back at Poon Hill.

(More to come in a couple hours...)

Bali and beyond

2008-10-15T22:24:00.000-07:00

Unbelieveable even to me, I haven't posted since August 22nd. So, what have I been doing for the past two months? I saw friends from home on numerous occasions... traveled Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia...suffered several health issues and injury...and experienced Highs and Lows that are inevitable and unexpected with long-term traveling.

Rather than recount this lengthy period of time, I'll give you some highlights as well as some observations after having traveled for six months. Yes, October 10 marked the six-month departure date. I have to wake up in 5 hours at 4:30am tomorrow to leave for Myanmar. I'll be there for two weeks and promise to get you up to speed when I return to Bangkok on Nov 2. As a sneak preview, I'll tell you that I'm headed to Delhi, India on Nov 10 and plan to spend two months or so traveling India.

Kuta, Bali

Served as my base as I traveled Indonesia. My new buddy Ketut manages the guesthouse that I repeatedly called home. Again, staying in one place and getting to know the staff affords privileges. By the end of my time in Bali, I was receiving a discounted room rate, special travel options and local connections in other parts of Bali. Dan and Luis, friends from Chicago, who are working in Penang Malaysia and Singapore, joined me in Bali to celebrate my birthday! Ketut provided transportation and joined us for a sunset dinner on the beach...complete with a personalized birthday cake. We spent the rest of the weekend on the beach, did the Chicken Dance at a chic Harley Davidson club, had a few drinks at a posh bar that offers Bungi Jumping. This was also the first time I stayed in a hotel rather than a guesthouse. It was a nice place but after four months of backpacker rooms, it felt like a Four Star palace. I'm sure it sounds funny but it's true. As I waited for my friends to arrive, I jumped on the bed like a four-year-old, had a dip in the pool and then found a seat at the pool-side bar to await the arrival of the first familiar face from home. A great weekend and a memorable birthday in Bali. Whatever will I do next year to top it?

Ubud
Amazing experience when I spent a day in a Family Compound helping them prepare for and celebrate a national Hindu holiday. I was picked up on motorbike at 7am and spent 6 hours helping prepare the traditional meal, Lawar...we made both pork and duck versions...as well as pork dumplings. Using traditional well-used wooden tools, I grated roasted JackFruit and Papaya. With a machette, I chopped baked coconuts. With a crazy knife, I minced pork. And to top it all off, they elected me to pour the (about 1 gallon) vat of pigs blood into the pork mixture which acts as the congealant when baked in banana leaves bound with bamboo. Most people who know me know I have a difficult time with "mushy" textures, but even so, I dug in with my hands (without gloves) to mix the blood and the meat mixture together. As the matriarch of the family added the secret spices, we cleaned up the area to prepare for the feast. By the way, the secret spices are even a secret to the rest of the family except one woman who is to carry on the tradition when she passes away. We then sat around on mats on the ground eating with our fingers.I couldn't pronounce or keep the names straight of all 20 family members, but it was a magical day and I felt blessed to be made to feel like a part of their family.

One night I attended a traditional Balinese dance performance consisting of eight different acts. Another night I attended a different performance featuring close to 100 men chanting and dancing around a fire pit. My stay in Ubud was shorter than I anticipated when I realized I had acquired a harmless but somewhat uncomfortable stalker-type guy. On my third evening, I sat down at a table with a couple and pretended that I had previously met them in order to strike up a conversation so that I could avoid being left alone with "the guy". Turns out they and another girl (all American) were headed back to Kuta the next day so I joined them in order to avoid a stalker situation.

Two of them were on leave from working with the government in the Middle East and treating themselves on this particular trip. She upgraded to the Presidential Suite at a posh resort and insisted I stay with her. After two days of laying by the pool, ordering room service, watching movies and a little shopping, I returned to my guesthouse where Ketut had a room waiting for me. Ihad planned to spend the last two days attempting to surf but the weather and waves did not permit anyone to be in the water. And my Visa dictated that I must leave on July 25...or go to jail.

Singapore
The plan was to spend a few days at my friend Luis' house, see the city and move on to Malaysia. My timing of needing to get to northern Malaysia changed so I decided to spend a few more days since I had the comforts of a home, thanks to the hospitality of Luis. That plan then changed when I became very ill. The doctor thought I had Dengue Fever or Malaria. Tests indicated negative but that I had some severe viral body flu. So I spent 5 days in bed and ended up being in Singapore for close to two weeks. A beautiful ciy with much to see but very expensive. Luis and I then headed for Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on September 5 to meet up with Dan (living in Penang) for a weekend of fun.

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I trust you all are happy and healthy. I promise to return soon and fill in the gaps.

Be inspired. Allow yourself to laugh. See your surroundings through a wide-angle lens.

Indonesia

2008-08-22T04:26:00.000-07:00

Jakarta, Indonesia / July 27
Dirty, polluted city with a few sights. Aggressive and somewhat creepy men line the street, hasseling women as we walk by. Harmless I'm sure but that combined with the city itself and the underwhelming backpacker area, I decided the night I arrived to fly out the next day. Note, that was the first night I felt the need to use my silk sheet sleeping bag. I wouldn't even touch the sink faucet or anything in the bathroom without holding toilet paper. Yes, it was one of the better places I found with air condition without paying more than I wanted. Whatever, it was one night. I pulled the silk bag up over my head to avoid the linens and fight off the swarm of mosquitos. On the plus side? 1) the sound of the muslim calls to prayer that played throughout the city, 2) meeting Lisanna from Amsterdam.

Bali
With guilt of having bypassed Java, I arrived in Bali the next day. I needed peace, quiet and relaxation which did not include buses through Java. Turns out that Kuta, Bali is not what I needed either. After a few crazy nights with Lisanna, I headed for the Gili Islands. A 13-hour journey including two buses and two ferry rides, I arrived on Gili T to find a guesthouse in the pitch black dark of night. With few vacancies, I ended up sleeping on the extra bed in the room of a couple I had briefly met before boarding the first ferry. They saw me on the streets and knew of the prior night without sleep and insisted I stay with them. I was beginning to think I would have to sleep on the beach or the shithole I had seen earlier which is the only vacancy I had found. And in case you're wondering...yes, there are many nights when I end up sharing a room with people I barely know to either save money or have company. You learn to trust your instinct. First things first the next morning, I found a new place. Turtle Bungalows was my home for the next two weeks with the exception of island hopping to Gili Air for two nights during the first week.

Allow me to set the stage. Gili T is the biggest of the three islands which lay east of Bali. (I'll call it Gili T b/c I can't remember how to spell the actual name.) 9km around the perimeter. Here one finds the bars and restaurants on one end and quieter life on the other end with shops and Warungs in the middle. Warungs are simple restaurants serving local food which sometimes consist of plastic chairs and tables. The food is delicious and cheap! One side of the narrow road is the beach. On the other are the bungalows and restaurants. The back side of the island is essentially desserted. White sand beaches full of broken coral with waves that can knock you over and a current that can pull you under. I wanted as much sun as my body would allow and as few tourists as possible. Many days consisted of waking, eating breakfast included at Turtle, moving to the beach, then watching the sunset from the back side of the island. People I had inevitably met at some point would find me but I would often times pretend I had previous plans to avoid their company. This is not usually the case but I simply wanted peace and solitude. One exception was Mona from Germany who turned out to be a plasure to spend a few days with, including Gili Air, before she had to go home for her upcoming theatre gig. She is one of those people you hope to meet while traveling. I usually spent my evenings with the staff at my bungalow. Nono, Andy and "my brother" Mr. Said (and some nights a few others) and I would sit in the front elevated bamboo huts. They would play guitar and sing a mixture of Balinese, Indonesian and American songs. We drank Black Wine (rice wine) at night and played cards. Generators are not able to support the increased demand and therefore, we were without electricity for a couple hours, sometimes four times a day. Activities like playing cards, showering and maneuvering by candlelight added to my latest perception of what is really necessary in this world. I discovered favorite Balinese music and foods, which is my favorite so far!

One morning I jogged around the 9km island. In my unexpected motivation upon waking and wanting to get going, I forgot to take water and had to stop on the opposite side of the island and ask a bungalow manager to spare some water for free. Ended up chatting for a half hour about how few Americans travel before I continued on around. Another thing to note: The cold water showers were indeed refreshing from the heat but the water is pumped from the sea and therefore showers are...salt water showers! My skin and hair cursed me every day. I was so relaxed I didn't care. The sunsets were breathtaking. The Lombok coffee delicious. A little piece of paradise. The islands are expensive. I spluged. Shockingly, there is no ATM on the island...so they can charge a 10% fee to use credit card. Fortunately, staying a while at one place and making friends affords privileges. Nono took me on the local boat (for 1/4 the price of the tourist boat) to Lombok island. We spent the day on his motorbike, driving around the island, including climbing a waterfall. He surprised me by going to the family of a friend in a small village where not many white people have been. For the hour I was there, 20 village kids stook at the windows and doorways, staring and turning in shyness. We made faces at each other, played the winking game and smiled all while I tried to converse with the muslim family seated before me. The 10-month old son was then placed in my arms to take pictures of me and the baby. Lunch was served and we ate with our fingers. Success! They watched me carefully to see how I reacted to the flavors and various dishes. They loved that I mostly ate the spicy foods...and peanut sauce. Hugs were exchanged and we were off...but what I really wanted was to engage the kids in a few games and laughter. This may sound strange but it's a wonderous experience to be the extreme minority. On our return we had to wait for enough passengers to arrive for the local boat to be full. I sat and waited for an hour with the locals while all the other Westerns looked in curiosity. Who knows what they were thinking but times like those are what I'm here to experience. I was sad to leave Gili although my bank account sighed in relief. I must say though that Gili Islands are still cheap for anyone seeking a destination/vacation...just not cheap for those on a year long travel budget. Leave I must though...friends from home were to meet me back in Bali for my birthday!

P.S. Will add photos in a few days when I have the opportunity to download/upload.

A Quickie...

2008-07-26T12:29:00.000-07:00

So...it's been a couple weeks since I checked in with you all. It's 2:30am and I'm staying up all night tonight to leave soon for a 6am flight from Bangkok to Indonesia. Adventure in country #5 is about to begin! I have no plan of where I'm going upon arrival so I've got some work to do on the plane. Two nights ago I flew for the first time since I arrived almost four months ago. It's been trains, buses and motorbikes for me. So, I was not thinking of "airport security" when I last packed my bags. I checked my bag and went through security where I was whisked away bysecuity to find the knife in my bag. "Knife" I ask with a look of astonishment? After unpacking every last thing in my small backpack, we found my swiss army knife. Ooops! I smiled and said, "but I'm traveling, I need it, isn't there anything I can do?" Under tight Vietnamese Security, I was escorted back to check-in. The lady at the desk frowned and said sorry with a smirk. Going against protocol while traveling, especially overseas, I asked strangers in line to put it in their to-be-checked luggage. I know! A mother (with her son), was a definite No. But four guys next line didn't think twice although he did ask me if it was a bomb, with a laugh. Uh, bad sense of humor but thanks for your help! I found him on the other side and retrieved my Swiss friend. He's come in handy to open bottles of wine and to pick the lock of a girl who locked herself out of her room one night. Mind you...I gave the security guys a chance but came to the rescue after watching them stand there helpless for five minutes. So, I've double checked my bags and have no contraband to cause me trouble tonight.

Since I last wrote, I took a two-day boat tour of Halong Bay, Vietnam where I went kayaking and explored caves. I then traveled to Sa Pa, Vietnam in the North where it was a nice reprieve to need to wear a long sleeve shirt starting in late afternoon. I did a small trek one day and then a two-day trek covering 20 miles of mountainous terrain. It was often times quite steep and very slippery due to the overnight rains. The tricky part is that I was not wearing my own shoes. Why you might ask? Well, the thing is...I needed to remove my trail shoes in honor of properly caring for my new tattoo. Yes, I got two tattoos! You read correct. I hadn't thought about the fact that my absorbent wool socks would pull the ink out. Luckily, I only realized it because I needed to get a rock out of my shoe. So, I hiked in a 10-year old pair of Tevas owned by a girl I didn't know. This resulted in a 41-year-old woman and a 9-year-old girl serving as four other pairs of hands to steady me on the climb so that I wouldn't fall off the side of the mountain. Lesson? There isn't one.

Sa Pa is a town nestled in the mountains of northern Vietnam. Hilltribe villages are tucked away in the mountains and valleys. The usual sellers of various ethnic wares roam the streets but are less aggressive than the rest of the country.

More to come...heading to the airport now.

Some Fun Facts

2008-07-09T02:00:00.000-07:00

1 - I left Chicago three months ago today
2 - Purchased approximately 275 bottles of water
3 - Worn the same pair of shoes for 90 days
4 - Enjoyed probably 16 massages (but haven't had one in the last month)
5 - Used 3 cans of mosquito spray in 5 weeks
6 - Longest train ride - 16 hours
7 - Longest bus ride - 14 hours
8 - Have not once used a hair dryer
9 - Used a touch of make-up for a few Bangkok outings
10 - Read six long books
11 - Currently in my fourth country
12 - Have 32 new email addresses of people from around the world who say, "keep in touch"...although we know we probably won't

Vietnam #4 - Easy Rider Voyage

2008-07-09T01:32:00.000-07:00

Hired an Easy Rider motorcycle driver to take me on a two-day journey. (Have I mentioned my new love for riding on motorcycles? Driving them will be next.) We rode from Hoi An up the eastern coast a ways then across to the western border near Laos through the Central Highlands mountain range and National Park jungle. 350 km total. We rode for 9 hours the first day stopping along to take in the views and visit local villages. I'm talking local enough that most people just stopped and stared. The kids would run up to us and say "hello". Some were too shy so they would stay in their huts and yell hello as they peeked around corners.

I spent 30 minutes in one spot while the village gathered around me. Smiling, looking me up and down, giggling. The family was asking questions to my driver. He would answer. They would laugh or turn in embarassment. One question was, "what does she eat that makes her so big?". They also commented on my skin color which is quite brown at this point. To ease their confusion of someone with brownish skin and blond hair (yes, my hair is getting lighter), I showed them a tan line. The girls ran over and wanted to see my stomach. Tan also. By the end, there were 28 family members huddling around, getting closer and closer...ever more curious. As we drove away, all the kids were running down the road behind us waving goodbye! I could have stayed there all day.

As we drove along, people would wave and yell hello. Some would blow kisses. So amazing! It lasted for nearly two hours. I don't know if I've ever smiled so much and for so long in one day. A smile was literally plastered to my face.

The views were spectacular the entire trip. He shared stories of his family and the history of Vietnam. We spent the night in a small town. As we walked the streets to get dinner and drinks, people again ran out to greet us. I walked ahead as my driver stopped to talk and a girl literally brought a chair into the street as I approached her and a group of people. She said "sit?". So I sat and we exchanged info in broken English. They too asked about the color of my skin. My driver walked by but didn't stop because he knew it was exactly what I was seeking. Further ahead, a few of the local police guys were playing a game of volleyball in front of their station. We asked if I could join and they said I could jump in at the end of their game. I could tell they were really into it and perhaps had bets riding on it, so I asked my driver to tell them thanks but maybe some other time. That they should enjoy the rest of their game.

After a meal of venison and dried squid, I made it an early night to bed. Just as I was about to turn off the light, we lost electricity. Oh, I was so looking forward to fan and air conditioning after a day on the bike. But, I lowered my mosquito net, opened the window (with no screen) and settled in while listening to a pack of barking dogs and finally fell asleep two hours later. So much for a good night rest. I awoke with five new mosquito bites which brought the total of recent bites to 37 as of that morning.

Day 2 on the bike lasted 8 hours. More about the scenery than the people that day. I was feeling a bit off the evening before but just assumed it was from the heat and riding a bike for so long. After lunch, Mr. Tranh went for petrol and when he returned, he found me puking on the side of the restaurant! So much for the fresh fish I had just eaten after seeing her slice up the one I had just seen swimming around. No gutting of the fish included. She simply whacked it apart, cooked it as is. When I asked the driver waht something was in my cooked dish, he said, "her eggs". Enough said. He handed me some medicinal liquid to rub on my stomach, chest and upper lip. Ok, another four hours to go! The road was full of S-curves to exit the jungle. I had to have him pull over once more so I could get sick again. We arrived in Hue shortly after 5pm and I spent that evening and the next morning in my room until checkout at noon. I then sat in the un-airconditioned lobby for four hours until I left for the bus station. Seeing as I didn't think I would be up for a 20 hour bus ride, I only went six hours. The mad-man driver was so crazy that he shaved an hour off the drive. He would pass cars making the oncoming traffic move to the shoulder or the ditch. An ocoming bus had nowhere to move to, so the sides of our buses scraped each other. Driver pushed forward without showing down. The only thing in or near this town are old military caves but I have no interest today. Feeling a tiny bit better this morning, I bought a 9pm bus ticket to take me the rest of the 14 hour ride overnight tonight. I had to check out at noon so here I am sitting in a cafe near the bus stop for 9 hours today. 6 1/2 hours to go! A walk would be nice before such a long bus ride but I can't be bothered to walk in 100 degree heat feeling like this and then getting on the bus without a shower! At least I caught got up on this blog though.

Still in love with Vietnam and perhaps the best is yet to come...

Vietnam #3 - Hoi An

2008-07-09T01:16:00.000-07:00

Hoi An, Vietnam
Where do I begin? I know I've said this before but it truly is difficult to find the words to paint the perfect picture for you. It's small. It's quaint. It's picturesque. French Colonial mixed with a touch of Tuscany, and I'm told a bit of Romania. The streets are like wide alleyways lined with cafes and shops offering local wares, antiques, and tailor-made clothing. The color of the buildings make me feel nostalgic. Music plays around every corner. The people are magical. The air is peaceful. The town is enchanting and carries a ryhthm that runs through my veins. It makes you take a single full breath that seems to last for hours. A river runs through the town dividing part to an island. The reflection tells a story. A nearby market reminds me I'm in Vietnam but otherwise it feels like a different world. I could go on and on but it wouldn't do it justice.

I decided to have a piece of clothing made and ended up having five items made and a pair of boots. It's difficult to decide which shop to go to but the evening before, I ended up talking with the employees of the restaurant/bar and one of them has a brother who owns a shop. He offered to pick me up the next morning and take me to the shop and then drive me around town. Let's just say I felt like a princess for the day. He delivered me to a shop, served me drinks while I picked out styles and fabrics. He then drove me to look at the shoes. After that, I had planned to go to the beach so he drove me there. He said it was at no charge but I invited him to have lunch with me on the beach before he left.

While we ate, we discussed many things. Something led to a discussion about the Vietnam War. It's been interesting to see how people react differently when they find out I'm from America. (I'll come back to this.) I know it's been a long time but the fact is still real. His father fought against the Americans and was captured and prisoned. His uncle sided with the Americans and now lives in Texas with his immediate family who own a nail salon. They haven't spoken since the war. He came back two hours later to pick me up and take me back to town. I made sure I saw him the next day to thank him again.

I spent some time again the next day with the girl who runs her family's shop where I got my shoes made. We had tea and fresh fruit and she invited me to her wedding on the 19th. Splendid. Wish I could have gone but needed to continue heading north. I stumbled upon a bar owned by an Australian on the island side of the town. I made a few connections there that I think will prove worthwhile in the future.

My heart is full in Hoi An. It suits me and fits like a perfect ensemble. I will return.

Be gracious. Be inspired.

Vietnam #2

2008-07-07T23:39:00.000-07:00

Nha Trang
Main road runs along the South China Sea. Gorgeous beaches with view of off shore islands. Upon arrival, we noticed the preparation of some event. First full day, I spent 7 hours on the beach. Johng hand-made me a buddha/good luck necklace for free after 20 minutes of us conversing. I, of course, insisted on paying him so he gave me a bracelet also. Last afternoon, we stopped for a bite to eat. Second round of drinks arrived and I asked the women next to me what was going on because police and Army uniformed men were lining the streets and people had started gathering. Turns out... Miss Universe 2008 Introductory Ceremony...Right there in Nha Trang, Vietnam! In case anyone happen to have caught a glimpse while channel surfing (b/c I don't know many people who watch the show), I was right there. Magnificant parade with the floats promendaing the women down the South China Sea shore. Energetic Vietnamese crowd. Not many Westerners where we were so it was even more spectacular. The girls working at our restaurant brought out a ladder and insisted I climb up it with them so we could have the best view. It was a riot! ( I was still in my swimsuit and cover from the day at the beach.)

We spent the rest of the evening with the two women and one of their sons who had shown up for the festivities. We communicated best we could but it was quite difficult. We bought them all drinks and took turns making celebratory toasts to Vietnam and the fact that we were all sitting there together. These two women are 51 and 49 but I never would have guessed it. Girlfriends since University. I was cherishing the evening when one of them invited us to her house the next evening. We graciously accepted and I silently thanked the Universe. I bought a boquet of Lily flowers to take to her. We were 25 minutes late by the time the taxi driver found her address. There was no buzzer so we shook the front gate. A dog started going crazy on the other side. (Later he wouldn't stop licking me and wanting to play.) Everyone on the street was staring at us...probably thinking we were lost. The daughter let us in and five family members sat staring and smiling while we waited for the woman to get home. She cried when I gave her the flowers. Sean is a photographer back in Canada so he had pictures printed that day that we had taken the evening before. More crying. By the end of two hours, 25 family members and friends arrived to meet us. There were as many moments of silence as there were moments of tears. (The night before in the restaurant, she sang us a traditional Vietnamese song with such emotion that I started crying then too. What a Wheeper I was!. I inturn sang a song as well. Amazing Grace. Yes, in the restaurant. Anyway...)

They took us on their motorbikes to dinner at a corner food stall that consisted of a low-height plastic table. No other white people around. More tears as we said goodbye to the women. Amazing what words can be exchanged through eyes and unspoken words. The last words she said (and words she had said many times before), "we will remember this day forever". The daughter and son then drove us to the hotel so I could change for an evening out. A crazy evening of dancing continued until 2am. Happy Canada Day Sean! Another for your books.

We spent the next full day on a boat tour of the islands. Hosts on the boat were embarassingly entertaining in a very Westernized fashion...including their version of the "best Vietnamese boy band of Nha Trang" performance. Traditional 7-dish lunch was served. Karoke performances by all the women of International countries. Snorkeling in the South Cina Sea. Beer started flowing at 9:30am and didn't stop until be docked at 6pm. Then...

That evening we boarded an overnight sleeper bus to Hoi An. The worst night sleep and bus experience combined I've had yet.

...In love with Vietnam, Day 9

Vietnam

2008-07-07T22:56:00.000-07:00

Ho Chi Minh City
Greetings from Old Saigon! 16 hours on two buses transported me from Cambodia to HCMC. A fellow Chicagoan, Andrea, was on the same bus and we ended up being roomies for two nights. I started my first full day on a Cyclo which is like a bicycle but the passenger sits in a front bucket seat and the driver on his seat in the back. I cannot describe and photos did not capture the craziness of HCMC streets. If I stood in one place and tried to count the number of motorbikes that passed, I would guess approximately 1,000 (or more) in the course of a minute. There are few stoplights in many areas. Drivers don't stop for pedestrians. Add in the 7-way intersections and wide-street roundabouts. The first attempt at crossing the street feels like a suicide mission. The advice is to cross the street slow and steady. Don't stop. Don't look at the drivers. And never back up. A bit like being the star player in your own video game trying to reach the next level without being at the game controls. Exhilirating and tiring. The city reminds me of a smaller scale Bangkok but quite different, though granted, I only spent 3 days there.

End of the first day I met a traveler with a similar planned Vietnam route. Sean, from Canada. (15 days later we are still traveling together. We celebrated his Canada Day and my July 4th.)Went on a tour of the Mekong Delta where we canoed through canals, lunched with the locals, celebrated an Aussie girls birthday. Energetic city but I was ready to leave for quieter surroundings. Other travelers have said, "skip Vietnam if you want, you won't miss anything". I continuted with an open mind b/c I've learned not to listen to other travelers. Every experience is different...for every person...on any given day.

Da Lat
An art lovers paradise resort town northwest of HCMC. Very few Westerners when we were there. It is the town where I have been stared at the most by the locals. Town surrounds a man-made lake. Hosted the 2007 International Flower Festivel. Beautiful gardens and greenhouses still exist. Old city structures and alleyways mixed with newer beautiful French and Modern architecture. Adorable.
.....Falling in love with Vietnam, Day 4

Sihanoukville, Cambodia

2008-06-30T23:30:00.000-07:00

Charming, coastal town. I spent the first day as a true tourist to experience the primary beach area. I gave in to a few hustlers of bracelets. Making even a small purchase is a sure way to get the locals talking, experience the culture and capture a few great photographs. As I relaxed on the beach soaking in the sun, I received the method of shaving known as "threading". She did my legs, eyebrows and a few other places... :-). Cambodian women gathered around to see if I would flinch as she spun and wound the thread across my body. Interesting hour of the day. Once the shaving was finished, I also indulged in getting a full body massage on the same beach chair. Finished off the afternoon with fresh lobster and beer...in still the same chair. The day was wonderful but only if you're in the mood. Some of the women and children are very aggressive. They try and give you a guilt trip or even curse at you to get you to buy something. I say, "no". They ask "why you not buy?". Seriously, I must have been asked 100 times to buy something that afternoon.

I followed that day with two quiet days on a secluded beach where there were only two people other than me. I spent part of the next day sketching with pastel chalks in a shaded area on the beach. Over the course of an hour, I shared that experience with four children. They watched intently and then drew their own pictures. I know have a few precious pictures to take home with me. It's those moments that make the days sublime. They asked questions about

America. They didn't ask me to buy anything. Rather, they smiled and said "thank you". Later that afternoon, they were walking by when I was about to leave the beach and yelled, "bye USA"!

Throughout the five-day stay at my guesthouse, I had a chance to get to know the employees. To connect with them, really. I will forever remember Tarrin and hope to hear from him via email once he gets further along in his computer classes. Wat called me Teacher by the time I left and said I was the best English teacher he's had. This is after I spent two hours on two separate evenings going over his English lessons with him to improve his pronunciation. He asked if maybe I could live there for a while and provide lessons to him and his classmates. I used the same motorcycle driver during my stay. On the last night, I had him drive me to the highest point outside of the town to watch the sunset. On our way back to town, a group of guys

were playing volleyball. I asked me driver to stop and ask them if I could play for a bit. He was

surprised and I think he thought he misunderstood what I was asking. The group was even

more surprised that I wanted to play. They didn't speak any English but they were smiling the whole time. I only played for a bit because I realized they were playing for money...and had

stopped their game in order for me to play with them. Again, I may not be play

ing volleyball every weekend on the Chicago lakefront but I've now played twice with locals in two different countries.

At the start, Cambodia was not what I expected. Initial frustration was replaced with sadness of needing to leave for Vietnam in order to fully use my Visa. Beautiful people. Simple lives. A country hoping for continued peace after many struggles.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

2008-06-30T22:47:00.000-07:00

Phnom Penh, capital of Cambodia. Fairly large city with even more motorbikes. Beggars and corruption less evident. Visited the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and the Killing Fields. For those not familiar with the history, the Museum is a former high school in a residential neighborhood of Southern Phnom Penh where the Khmer Rouge imprisoned and killed over 14,000 people. Only seven survived; the rest were sent to the Killing Fields of Choeng Ek. Morbidly well documented. The school has been left as it was found in 1979. Visitors walk freely through the closet-sized detention cells and torture chambers. Photographs were taken of each victim upon arrival and are now displayed in one area of the school. I will never forget those faces. The Killing Fields were the final destination for more than 40,000 victims of Pol Pot's reign of terror. Only one person survived the massacre. He was shot but didn't die and was buried alive. The Vietnamese discovered the Fields and found him, barely alive. A stupa was build in 1988; a glass case inside contains 17 levels of human skulls and bones from the exhumed bodies. It's difficult to comprehend that this horror took place only 35 years ago.

That evening, my group of five returned to our guesthouse on the lake. I ventured out to the deck area to try and catch the sunset. A conversation with a little boy on his boat resulted in him taking me out on the lake to watch the sunset. As the sun set, he sang American songs as well as tra

ditional Cambodian hymns. Two pieces of wood and the side of the boat served as a drum set. For every two songs he sang, I sang one. We even rapped the ABC's. One hour on that boat for $1. Perhaps the best dollar I've spent. An audio clip from that hour would be priceless!

A couple other worthy mentions? A boat ride through a Floating Village one day. And one

evening, I ended up buying a few cans of canned milk for a woman selling books on the street. She is pregnant and the milk was for her and her one year old son.

Mike and Diane, I look forward to your visit in Chicago!!

Taylor, you will have moved to Chicago by the time I return. See you there!

The Roads of Cambodia

2008-06-20T02:36:00.000-07:00

One backpacker says to another backpacker, "have you yet traveled the Cambodian road between the border and Siem Reap?" I can now answer "yes" and understand the burning question that always pops up at story time. Three hours of the five hour ride is a spine splitting, mind-numbing road that forces you to grind your teeth and wonder if your insides will stay intact. The so-called road is full of crater-sized potholes encountered at 40 mph while swerving crazily to avoid children on bikes, ox and other cars. My window refused to stay up so I was repeatedly splashed with the water of the monsoon type rain that detained us from leaving the border for a period of time. I spent that short while talking to the border patrol and attempted to learn the card game they were playing.

Arrived in Siem Reap to the organized chaos that is Siem Reap. I spent the first two days exploring the huge Angkor Wat area. On the second day, I left my guesthouse at 5am to watch the sunrise over Angkor Wat itself. After a peaceful sunrise (largely lacking of sun due to clouds), I positioned myself in the "Corridor of Echos"to enjoy a bit of peace. I sat staring ahead and a monk appeared in the archway. I suspect he had hidden himself behind the cove to enjoy the sunrise in his favorite spot. The bright orange of his robe contrast against the morning sky and stone structure was breathtaking.

Angkor Wat is magnificant. The town of Siem Reap is a different story. After talking to a man from London who has owned a home in Sieam Reap for the last five years, I imagine I would have enjoyed it much more two years ago or more. It's a haven for tourists. Constantly hassled to buy things from all ages of street vendors selling anything they can. Always asked for money by beggars who are missing limbs (and reminded of all the land mines dropped by you know who). And no matter what you need, it's overpriced. Meahwhile, there is no order on the streets. Motorbikes will run you over if you don't move, and they come from all different directions. I've learned a good bit of history by talking to locals or Westerners who now call the place home. They says it's changing and it's for the better. But if you listen closely and read between the lines, you hear what they're really saying...which I think is that it's not perhpas what they want but it does provide a better life.

I must give a nod to Paulo. Thank you for the intricately random course of conversation that filled a rainy afternoon. I had gone for a walk and got caught in the rain. I was soaked actually. The rain jacket and the umbrella served no purpose seeing as the rain was blowing sideways. I ducked into an area to wait it out and spent the afternoon having the most interesting conversation about life in Cambodia from a Westerners perspective who left London to escape Advertising and Real Estate. Cheers White Russian meets AK-47!

In Siem Reap, I met up with a couple people who I had met in Bangkok who had also made traveling companions of Mike and Kat. The five of us left Sieam Reap for Battambang to catch a train that I had told everyone I was going to ride. It's a local train that runs only once a week. It is to take 15-18 hours unless it breaks down or derails. It typically is not boarded by many tourists. It's old. With wooden seats. You can ride on the roof and interact with locals. Well...we arrived only to find out that it left that morning rather than the next morning as planned. So, a six hour bus ride for nothing. Let me just say that I was really looking forward to that train and may just make a special trip back through Cambodia to take it. We'll see. (Later, I met up with someone else I had shared the information with. He didn't plan appropriately but actually made the train! I saw his pictures...and think I will for sure find a way to ride that train...which ended up taking 24 hours to make the journey.) -- Back to the five of us. With no train as a possibility, we left immediately on a different bus (for the original destination by train) rather than waste a day of travel.

Arrive in Phnom Pehn after 13 hours on the two buses with only the 30 minutes of haggling and negotation between the bus rides. I must take a moment to share with you that the thing I think is most trying about traveling is first arriving to the next destination. Every traveler I've met agrees. When I'm on a local train, the drivers are on the train and hounding me before I even gather my belongings. I step off a train or bus (or even a Tuk-Tuk) and there are Tuk-Tuk drivers in my face. All talking over one another. Each traveler perfects their own style and I am developing mine. It's always a game. If you allow yourself to be annoyed and frustrated, you will be. I, however, think it can be fun. Therefore, I'm usually the one doing the negotiating, questioning, bargaining, etc. Each country and city requires different manuevering. I may not be at work but I still get to utilize strategy. Let the games continue.

I've made a promise to myself that I will blog more often than I have recently. 1) for you, 2) for me. I am now in Sihanouk Ville on the Southern coast of Cambodia. I spent the day on a secluded beach The next update, hopefully tomorrow, will bring you up to speed. Oh, and Cambodia internet is very slow so it's difficult to download photos from my camera to share. So, hope you enjoyed this text-heavy update.

Peace

Goodbye Thailand...for now

2008-06-13T21:35:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's been a while, but I'm still around. I would like to first selfishly make a comment to any of you who read this blog. I can imagine it's fun to check in and see where I am, but it would be equally great for me to hear from some of you. (And to know that the time and money I spend to be online is worth the effort.) Thank you to the few of you that have posted a comment or sent me an email!

The past couple weeks were filled with more great memories before I hit the road. Although it's been great, it didn't seem like much to 'write home about'. I spent an evening with friends where I helped cook a traditional Thai dinner for seven people. My friend Kristen visited for 9 days. And after deliberating for two weeks to make a very difficult decision, I declined a great job offer in Bangkok. I trust I made the right decision but some days I wonder.

I can't thank my friend Brad enough for opening his home to me during my stay in Bangkok. Equally as nice as the comforts of his home was the introduction to his friends. Brad, and his girlfriend Note, showed me the side of Bangkok that tourists do not experience. How lucky am I?! Great times were had by all...and I can only hope that Ad Makers hasn't changed location by the time I return! I fear it won't be the same.

One with Nature

2008-05-22T04:03:00.000-07:00

My friend Ahmed, from Chicago, has the award of being the first to visit me during this journey. He just left after a nine day tour of Thailand. We conquered Bangkok, including a night of Muay Thai boxing, and headed for the countryside. Kanchanaburi is sereral hours west of Bangkok very near the border of Myanmar.

A walk on the River Kwai Bridge found us facing a head-on train as we walked the tracks. We stepped to the side platform and waved at the passengers inside. A sobering history lesson at a museum enlightened us of the tear-jerking story of how over 100,000 POWs and Asians died as the Japanese forced them to work in unforgiveable conditions to complete the bridge to aid their last attempt war strategies during WWII. A portion of the Thai-Myanmar railway otherwise known as "Death Railway" still exists for memorial. I left the all-too-serious museum to explore the memorial track and found a beautiful hiking trail. It was so brilliant, I decided to go as far as I could before I had to be back to catch my ride. That great idea resulted with me losing track of time and having to run for 35 minutes in order for my group to not have to wait on me. No, 35 minutes is not that long but it was a hilly, rocky path in near 100 degree heat with about a 10-story stair climb at the end.

Our "guesthouse" was a series of connected huts that floated on a river. When a boat passed by and created waves, the whole structure rocked. Outside each area was a bamboo deck that extended out from the hut. The room consisted of a bed and a bathroom which had a floor made up of wood planks covered with chicken wire. You could see the river pass beneath you. The sink, shower, and yes toilet, emptied into the river below. Just imagine what you could see float away...

Traditional Thai meals were served on our bamboo deck. The days were full of adventure and the evenings were spent relaxing along the river. No city noise. No car horns. No yelling. No street food smells. Nature at it's best. Honestly, it just doesn't get much better.

One early morning we played in the river with elephants. While riding them, they leaned and knealt in the water until they were submerged. To stay on, it was as if I was riding a slow-motion mechanical bull. Their eye contact is so intense. Their rough dirty bodies and stubbly hair ruined the shirt I was wearing. (But that actually makes it easier to rid a few things in my backpack for new items I've purchased.) They are truly the most magnificant creatures! -- Hey Rohini, I thought of you and your like-minded love for them. I know you understand what I'm talking about. -- Later in the day, a 55 year old lass took us for a ride along the mountainside.

We explored caves and hiked a 4km, 7-story waterfall with breathtaking views. At the top, we cooled off in the swimming holes. Exquisitely relaxing except for the fish nibbling at you if you stayed still too long.

Bamboo rafting one day was followed by a visit to the Tiger Temple. A monk founded this site and raises the tigers with "the imprint of the human touch". Therefore, they do not fear humans. Visitors can sit and touch tigers of all sizes and ages, with the assistance of a tiger trainer. Unfortunately, my camera's battery died. Therefore, I await to receive the amazing photos from Ahmed once he returns home. It was so brilliant to have the head of a huge tiger resting on my lap as I sat on the ground. The fur was amazinglysoft. I don't know how many times I've stood within the Chicago Zoo waiting for a good look at one just to see their beauty. Hi Kitties. And now, I've sat with them and felt their fur. Better photos to come... The Tiger Temple is on a sort of farm with a Temple. Investigation led us to a monk. We chatted. We received blessing. Various animals roam the property and walk alongside you on the path; wild boars followed by tiny baby boars, horses, ponies, pigs, cows, bulls, peacocks, chickens, dogs. At one point, food was dropped in huge piles along the main road. Harmoniously, these animals stand side-by-side living in this small world. It really was a site but it's difficult to describe unless you were there. I found myself very much in the moment and appreciative of the world around me. The universe is a funny place.

On our return to Bangkok, we decided to leave early the next morning via bus and head to the island of Koh Chang. A small, quiet island 5 hours southeast of Bangkok. Cambodia is a boatride to the east. We wated to be as close to the water as possible and so secured this bungalow on stilts right at the waters edge. When the tide came in, it reached the stilts. At the base of the steps, were two wood swings and a tire swing hung perched from a tree above the sand a few meters away. A mosquito net allowed us to sleep with the door and window open at night. Note, there is no bathroom in this little abode requiring us to walk a short distance. Primitive but absolutely worth it. A private little paradise. Breathtaking at sunrise and sunset.

We rented a motorbike and Ahmed drove us long the coast stopping to take in the views, rope swing into a creek with local boys, shop, and relax at different beach areas. The purchase of a hammock will surely provide an interesting story down the road. The first annual Koh Chang World Music and Fruit Festival greeted us for an evening. Ahmed competed on stage in the International Coconut Carving Contest. He beat out his competitor (Nadia from New York) but only closely lost to the reigning Koh Chang champion. Cheers rang out nontheless for his valiant effort!

There are always lessons to be learned while traveling. We stood on the side of the road with our bags in the blazing sun trying to get a taxi to take us to the pier. We had to reach mainland in order to catch the bus to Bangkok which would alredy be cutting it close for Ahmed to make it to the airport in time. 15 taxis or so stopped but refused to take us to the pier. 10 minutes they kept saying. We're sure there is some sort of system but it certainly does not make sense. Monetary bribery got us a short distance but were then stranded again with now other people needing to get to the pier. Eventually, we secured a taxi with still no explanation of the methodology. I love not being on a schedule and this is exactly why. I tend not to plan ahead and have no expectations of when I will reach the next destination. I'm simply along for the ride.... and the cultural essence.

The story continues...

2008-05-09T03:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, for those of you who read the previous post days before this one... You're Welcome for the suspense! Upon arrival to Vang Vien, two guys from Holland joined my already group of three after having chatted on the four hour bus ride. We chose a guesthouse, dropped our bags and went in search of a place for dinner by the river.

Dinner turned into a great night scene where travelers converge, share stories and talk of next adventures. Elevated bamboo huts and hammocks is the setting. Eventually the primary lights are extinguished with guests left in darkness. Perfect setting for the scene of the crime. It was not until the next morning when I went to pay for breakfast that I realized I had been the latest target! (My new friends happily paid for my meal.) I spent the next few hours talking to the locals, finding someone who could at least half translate for me and developing a plan of action. Apparently, there has been a series of thefts at this open-air bar/restaurant. I refused the idea of letting the game end there.

Here was the plan:
I asked the bar guys to handwrite a sign (in English and Laos) which was hung directly below their sign. (Yes, pix to come.) REWARD
STOLEN PASSPORT (U.S.)
$10,000,000 KIP (by the way, this is about $800 dollars)
My hope was that some greedy Laos would go looking for the outrageously priced reward of a desperate American who wanted her passport back. If it worked, the bar guys were to notify me of the time for the exchange of the passport/reward. I would then play hard ball and take my passport at the moment they gave proof it's mine without forking over any money. In the daylight with witnesses all around. What could go wrong? My fellow male travelers agreed this sounded like a good idea until I said I wanted to take care of it by myself. In other words, "me do it myself", right family of mine? Anyone who really knows me knows that I wouldn't want it any other way. I did however ask them to sit a few tables away in case of emergency.

Within hours, the first phone call was received. The information was vague and mysterious. After the second call, I began to believe the bar guys were playing a game with me. So what did I do? I played back. The Laos police were of no help...not that it was a surprise. After many conversations and stragetic questions and threats (by me), my passport was magically "dropped off" at the bar! Perhaps it was my valiant effort? Perhaps it was the bar guys all along and they decided they messed with the wrong girl? I will never know. Checkmate! I win.

Sidenote: I awoke that morning because I felt the bugs crawling on me and when I jumped out of bed and onto the floor, I realized my room was flooded. A sever rainstorm coupled with a door that didn't reach the floor. There was no other furniture in the room so my backpack had remained on the floor. A few of my things were soaked but I gave a silent thanks to the inventor of plastic ziplock bags, which is exactly what I use to efficiently pack all my clothes... including my camera!

This is turning into a long post but many have requested that I describe the places I vist... and Laos is certainly worth noting!

Vientiane, the capital, is a quaint and fairly quiet town. So quiet that we went bowling one night! There is a beautiful fountain which you can only have the pleasure of seeing if you're there at the right moments of the day. The Mekong River which is boasted by the town was an ill sight due to low water level in that area. Blue Bananas restaurant was a favorite...it's air conditioned! Simon, a gent from England, fell in love and stayed in the City after having to rest a couple weeks after breaking two ribs.

Vang Vien, a known route of the backpacker. A sort of Fraternity/Sorority World Gathering. The two key highlights? Spend the day tubing down the river. In the evening, check out the "Happy" bars with special Happy Menu included. Tubing was so great we did it two days in a row! A tuk-tuk takes you up river where you then literally float along and stop at bars on either side. if you don't make it to the side, they throw you a stick and they pull you in. Each bar is equipped with varied-heights of elevated bamboo platforms where you grab a trapeze bar (a piece of rounded wood), jump off and swing back and forth until you decide to drop into the river. It becomes a sort of competition as most eyes are on the people jumping. I may not get to enjoy my summer beach volleyball in Chicago but I did get to play in the mountains of Laos at one of the stops! The river ride is about 4Km long. It was dark both nights by the time we reached the last bar. You can have a boat take you back or you can float along in the dark and hope you figure out where to get off. I convinced everyone to go by river. That it would be an experience. There was a lot of apprehension but I finally convinced 8 people to do it. For the record, they all thanked me afterwards!

Luang Prabang, a bigger, more expensive city in Northern Laos. French influence still prominent. Amazing baguettes...thank you France! The early nightlife resulted in travelers gathering at the guesthouse balconies. For us, one night was filled with three hours of Rummy cards. One day we spent the morning visiting some old caves via a 2-hour boat ride each way followed by a drive to some waterfalls. The Falls were beautiful but it downpoured so everyone was covered in mud after falling while trying to climb to the top.

My 10-hour bus ride back to the capital to cross the border and return to Bangkok via night train? 10 of the 50 passengers were puking most of the way due to the S-curve roads in the mountains. The air conditioning stopped. The bus windows did not open. And the 90 year old woman next to me tried to hand me her bag of vomit. I declined (probably with a face of horror) but did help her the whole way with a variety of tasks.

Leaving Laos, I had made about 1 million new friends...tiny ants! They are everywhere: in your bed, in your luggage, climbing the walls, at your feet when you turn on the shower. It's not easy to feel clean but it feels so good to take that cold shower!

It may sound as if Laos handed me a few obstacles but that is the life of a traveler. I love it!
If you ever have the chance to visit Laos, definitley go! It's an amazing country that I believe will soon lose its charm and become another country that is no longer unknown.

Tales from Laos

2008-05-04T06:58:00.000-07:00

Leaving Bangkok, I boarded the night train for the land of Laos. After a 12-hour, restless night sleep on the upper bunk and a 2-hour border crossing process (including Tuk-Tuk, bus, Tuk-Tuk, bus), I arrived in Vientiane, Laos. Enter to the scene my traveling companions for the last 10 days: Jimmy and Romin, a gay couple from London. It has certainly added to the adventure...their lover's quarrel to say the least. The blokes are fun though!

I anticipated being here for only a few days, but this is the fifth town I'm visiting in Laos. I believe it would take a Nobel Prizine Winning writer to only begin to capture the essence of Laos! Truly beautiful. Luscious green mountains. Steep jagged cliffs. Magnificent Mekong River. Fairly progressive City of Luang Prabang equally matches the tiny villages with no electricity or running water.

Ok, so the service here is spotty right now. Must run... will update in a few days. Stay tuned because the tales to come include my passport and money being stolen as well as the possible boarding of a Laos Cargo Ship tomorrow to take me halfway back to Bangkok!

Loving Laos!!!

2008-04-22T04:51:00.000-07:00

The ride up the river showcased how the privileged and poor live side by side in a way that is less obvious from the street. As in any City, water front real estate is prime but the hodge-podge progress results in a strange effect. Crooked shacks and aging buildings of importance stand nestled amongst newer condominums and resort hotels. It is as if time stood still for some as they watched their neighbors prosper from a real estate buyout. Off the river, I explored Khao San Road... otherwise known as backpacker lane. For those familiar with NYC, it is similar to the shopping portion of Canal Street. Fresh watermelon ice tea and coconut balls were the refreshing fare of the afternoon. When it began to rain, I tucked myself into the corner of an open-air bar and enjoyed a few drinks while watching a Muay Thai boxing training session. Although a bit daunting, I think I'll try it out at some point!

A walk that began as a journey into a new neighborhood on Friday resulted in a 6 mile walk in 95 degree weather! I made my way to Lumphini Park and found a sanctuary within this City. Reminded me of a small-scale Central Park in NY. I found a shaded area next to a fountain to pause and take it all in. Joggers passed by. Kids played games. Older gentleman played what looked like checkers with ceramic tiles. Exercise classes were held out in the open accompanied by 80's music and Thai songs. One group must have had 200 people participating. I was lost in thought and brought back to the moment when I heard the Thai National Anthem piped in from speakers all around me. Turns out everyday at 8am and 6pm, time stops to observe the Anthem. People stop whatever they are doing and stand still throughout the song. It occurs everywhere: the park, the subway, the Malls.

I checked out the huge Chatuchak Weekend Market, Thailand's greatest flea market. It spans 35 acres where you wander through row after row and brouse a phenomenal array of antiques, clothing, jewelry, food, junk, etc. Amazingly, I bought nothing seeing as I would have to lug it around with me or mail it back to the States!

The smell on the streets infuses the air to the point where sometimes you feel you cannot escape it. Rather than my usual coffee and oatmeal, I have the choice to opt in for rice and fish or pork or beef and other things you wouldn't think to eat in the AM. I love the street food and always dine with the locals. We do not understand each other but when I point to something, we usually try to repeat each other in the other's language. Even with the heat today, I sat outside and enjoyed a bowl of spicy pork noodles! What's a little more heat, right? I think it was almost 110 degrees today topped with a heavy portion of humidity!

Congratulations to my friends who just got engaged! Kelly and Carrie, I expect updates since I'm not there to enjoy it with you! :-)

Sign up to be alerted when I post new update!

2008-04-17T23:51:00.000-07:00

Despite my new internet café contact, I may not always be able to get online as much as I would like during my travels. Instead of asking you to check back every day to read my latest adventures, you can now subscribe to my blog and get an e-mail alert every time I post something new!

Simply enter in your e-mail address to the left, follow a couple of simple steps, and you will receive an e-mail every time I add to the blog! And...Special thanks to my stateside blog mentor for helping me discover this feature. Enjoy!

A Smile Goes A Long Way

2008-04-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

My newest "friend" is the girl who runs this internet shop. Jessie (her English-chosen name) from Taiwan. What began as a smile and that I would see her tomorrow translated into me having a personal guide for the day to accompany me on the river tour I was on my way to experience. I will answer her 1 million questions about America and she will in turn share with me her view of the City from a boat! Until her replacement arrives (Russ, an older American guy ;-) who I talked with last night when I was here), I am using the internet for free. So, here's a quick update for you until I return tonight which was my original plan.

I am now on Thailand time and continue to wake at 6am every day. Over the last few days, I have explored the City on the quieter side. The New Year celebrations were wonderful! Bangkok truly empties out and the people left are here to party and and celebrate in their traditional fashion of throwing water. Literally. I could not walk on the street without being soaked with water and covered with a white paste made of clay powder. Even passing cars cannot escape the downpour. Whether from a hose, a bucket, a scoop or yes, the ditch...water was everywhere! The clothes I wore on one particular day will forever hate me. Let's just say that Thai's do not use fresh water for these festivities. Oh, except for the couple times where ice cold water was poured over my head. You think they would have kept that fresh water for themselves but I think they save it for the Westerners. The water kept me a bit cooler in the heat, but the smell lingered. Ahhh...

Yesterday I was suckered into a "tour" ride by a Tuk-Tuk driver. (Tuk-Tuk's are three-wheel motorized, open-air taxi's.) For 50 baht ($1.75), he would take me around for an hour and let me get off and explore places. My exploring consisted of enforced stops at Gemstone Factories and Silk Factories to get custom made clothing. In return, he received gasoline coupons from the shops. I learned. I got off at a temple to start my own walking tour. The temple was closed but a very kind government worker informed me that yesterday was the one day of the year when the government subsidizes government Tuk-Tuk drivers so that people like me can be taken from place to place for only 10 baht. 3 1/2 hours later I concluded my Tuk-Tuk ride having seen 4 Wat's (temples), visited the Tourist info center and dined on a VERY local lunch spot via the recco of the driver. He asked if I wanted McDonald's... uh, no thank you. Note: Shira, you know what I'm getting at :-)

I have gotten together several times with the Thai girl I last mentioned. She has an exquisite gentle spirit. I adore spending time with her. She is getting her Masters to work in the field of women's rights in hopes to continue the advancement of empowering Thai women. The first evening I spent with her and her father, they prepared me pasta via the recipe of her "Mexican friend". We then watched Casino Royale. I appreciate their gesture to make me feel at home. The second night her father ordered pizza and she prepared Thai style kabobs for the first time. She also made traditional Thai of Green Curry Chicken. Her father and I were her guinea pigs for two nights. Her new enjoyment is trying new recipes. On Saturday, she and I are going grocery shopping for all fresh ingredients so that she can then spend the afternoon teaching me how to cook traditional Thai food. Very much looking forward to the experience!

Off to the river.. and secretly hoping this new friend will mean extended internet time at a low cost during my stay in Bangkok!

Peace, Jen

Welcome to Bangkok!

2008-04-12T02:58:00.000-07:00

A whirlwind and a blur...New Year festivities are in full swing and the actual
holiday has yet to arrive. My friend is out of town but his friends welcomed
me to their city with a night out last night. As a result I am still on CST time as I got home at 9am! Similar to New York, I imagine many here are sleep deprived. In the company of people from Thailand, Scotland, England and Russia, I experienced the poshness and the grittiness that Bangkok has to offer on a Friday night. Let's just say it was a monumental first night out in this city I will call home for the next month. Must run as I just got the call that another friend is downstairs to pick me up and take me to her house for a traditional Thai dinner with her family. A whole other type of evening awaits...

The Beginning

2008-04-06T19:49:00.000-07:00

April 9th will mark the beginning of my journey! Upon arrival, Thailand will be celebrating its New Year. I plan to stay in Bangkok for a couple weeks and then head to Krabi for rock climbing, kayaking and some good quality beach time before hitting the road with only a backpack to sustain me over the next year.

Check back to track my travels and vicariously share my experiences. Many moments await...