All entries that follow are from my study abroad experience in Bangkok, Thailand from January-August 2014. Personal writings as well as influential articles will be found below.
You Don't Have to Miss Home
I love this place. I love it more than I’ve loved so many other places I’ve been, seen and lived. And it is home. But what is home other than a feeling of security and belonging? It’s just another place that you’ve made into something that you currently need. If I ever come back to my neighborhood here in Bangmod, I won’t know what to do. I won’t know what to seek out. I’d be lost in my once-home. That being said, I’ll forever love the Thai friends I’ve made and who they are, no matter our deep-rooted differences. And I’ll forever love the person that Thailand has shaped me into. But as for this home, I won’t know how to miss it. I don’t see a practicality in missing a place I couldn’t return to and feel the same emotions with. That’s not love, that’s yearning for the past that can’t be repeated.
This has been a definite once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I can’t express my thanks for that more. But the fact is that I’ll miss the beautiful places I’ve visited in Thailand more than this home in Baan Suan Thon. Granted, I’ll miss these places more because I know I’d have more to discover if I were to return, in many different ways. But here, in this apartment complex, I have realized in a month I won’t find myself missing it. What is there to miss? Everything I had here will be in the past, and I’ll be missing memories rather than this place, certainly. And I view nostalgia frankly as a waste of time when there are more adventures to be had. If I were here for any longer, I wouldn’t appreciate it any more than I already do. It’s not beautiful by most standards, it’s not exciting by any, and like hell it’s even clean. But a home-base for adventures, learning and self-discovery is the most important piece of the travel-puzzle, I’ve discovered.
That being said, time is almost up. I’ve changed immensely, and owe it to countless stimuli such as books, people, places, laughs, and experiences. But I’m ready for America. Well, mainly I have to be. But I’m ready to show people who I am now and what this home has made me. That is the only way I can show America what Thailand has meant to me, and how it became my first real home.
This has been a definite once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I can’t express my thanks for that more. But the fact is that I’ll miss the beautiful places I’ve visited in Thailand more than this home in Baan Suan Thon. Granted, I’ll miss these places more because I know I’d have more to discover if I were to return, in many different ways. But here, in this apartment complex, I have realized in a month I won’t find myself missing it. What is there to miss? Everything I had here will be in the past, and I’ll be missing memories rather than this place, certainly. And I view nostalgia frankly as a waste of time when there are more adventures to be had. If I were here for any longer, I wouldn’t appreciate it any more than I already do. It’s not beautiful by most standards, it’s not exciting by any, and like hell it’s even clean. But a home-base for adventures, learning and self-discovery is the most important piece of the travel-puzzle, I’ve discovered.
That being said, time is almost up. I’ve changed immensely, and owe it to countless stimuli such as books, people, places, laughs, and experiences. But I’m ready for America. Well, mainly I have to be. But I’m ready to show people who I am now and what this home has made me. That is the only way I can show America what Thailand has meant to me, and how it became my first real home.
Discovering one’s “purpose” in life essentially boils down to finding those one or two things that are bigger than yourself, and bigger than those around you. And to find them you must get off your couch and act, and take the time to think beyond yourself, to think greater than yourself, and paradoxically, to imagine a world without yourself.
Hi You!
I just wanted to take the time to welcome you to my small slice of thought in this massive world. Like really, Isn’t it just amazing that you’re here? No, I don’t mean like alive at this point in time sitting on your ass exactly where you are right now; I mean mentally, in my blog. A conscious choice you made to visit this place that oftentimes, I enjoy pretending no one reads. In my personal thoughts and stories. “It’s just a blog”, you thought. “Might as well check it out to avoid this homework”, you thought. Well ok, you’re right. That’s exactly what this is. But isn’t it just fantastic how you’re here over anywhere else in the world? In this moment, using your precious time to read my words. I could never thank you enough for sacrificing a slice of your life for me, right now. It’s wild how much the people you know can influence and inspire you so simply. I find it fascinating to think about how frequently I could be somewhere else, reading someone else’s thoughts or meeting different people or smelling different things. But you’re right here because you chose to be, regardless of the logistical reason. Now think about all the other places you have yet to see, read, or inhabit. Shit, I almost feel bad for taking up this time of yours now. But even if you read no posts below this about my not-so-mundane current predicament I’ve begun calling my youth, hopefully you’ll get one thing out of this blog. A way of thinking. A choice. A conscience. Not necessarily to be better or even to be good, but to be. Be in the lecture, be in the book. Be on the grass, be in the shower. Be in the moment with whoever you’re with, especially if it’s yourself. Think of all the small pieces you could remember from your life if only you had drawn some meaning out of them or use them as a mirror. Life continues and you find yourself in different places, within different time zones and emotional realms, with different intellectual stimuli. No moment can affect you the same way twice, but you should let them all try at least once. Acknowledge the moment and let it continue, for a moment would be a terrible place to stay. And remember that you’re where you are because of a choice you once made that led you to a path you then took.
The Depths of Thailand
Thailand is a wild place full of caves and beaches, ladyboys and pingpong shows. Everything in between is left up to the imagination, and I guarantee you, you can’t think of anything that doesn’t exist here.
But I’ve put in my time. I’ve been here long enough to know what I like, what I don’t like, what parts are the true Thai culture, and what parts are recent developments or made up for farang enjoyment.
The things that have struck me the most that I’ve discovered after countless days of being here (ok, it’s been 190 days actually) are the flaws. The ridiculous, upsetting parts of the culture that have stuck from years of subjugation, from the wonders of genetics, and, among other things, from the rise of selfie culture.
Here are just a few stories I’ve accumulated during my time here.
For starters, you cannot walk into a 7/11 without having an extreme difficulty finding non-whitening skincare. They are obsessed with pale skin. And personally, I think that dyeing your skin repeatedly for years probably doesn’t have any health benefits. Also, most all Thai people with contacts choose to wear color contacts instead. I see mainly fake blue eyes all around me. A friend of mine wears them, and has claimed to us that she wears the blue contacts because otherwise she can’t see them and will forget to take them out. As a 10-year contact wearing veteran, I’m going to call bullshit on that and delve more into the fact that she found it necessary to lie and passively defend her personal choices to her friends. These people are not outwardly defensive. They rarely stand up for themselves when your drunk friend (whose name is often Karl) calls them a bitch. It’s ok though. And it’s ok because they honestly don’t know what else to do. They also often claim they are on diets, but use that term loosely because no sense of nutrition has ever been engrained in their grain-oriented society. My friends have tried diets such as no bread (resulting in a lot of 7/11 snacks and sugar-filled smoothies), no dinner (which, for May, means an oreo shake), and no dessert (ok, so this is fine, but on multiple occasions it has been awkward when they turn down a piece of birthday cake at a celebration). Obsession is real, but always internal and only vocalized when we say “that’s not dinner!” or “why not? It’s delicious!”
But still I believe the fear of being openly self-conscious outweighs the act of self-consciousness. Cue the selfie culture. All Thais like all other Thais selfies on social media, under the unsaid assumption that down the line (and most likely, that’s in the next few hours), the selfie they post will then receive lots of likes in exchange. It is a twentysome culture full of timid yet fakely-confident miniature people who can have trouble confiding in you and saying what they mean.
But somehow, it’s loveable. It’s understandable. It’s forgivable. However, it’s not me.
But I’ve put in my time. I’ve been here long enough to know what I like, what I don’t like, what parts are the true Thai culture, and what parts are recent developments or made up for farang enjoyment.
The things that have struck me the most that I’ve discovered after countless days of being here (ok, it’s been 190 days actually) are the flaws. The ridiculous, upsetting parts of the culture that have stuck from years of subjugation, from the wonders of genetics, and, among other things, from the rise of selfie culture.
Here are just a few stories I’ve accumulated during my time here.
For starters, you cannot walk into a 7/11 without having an extreme difficulty finding non-whitening skincare. They are obsessed with pale skin. And personally, I think that dyeing your skin repeatedly for years probably doesn’t have any health benefits. Also, most all Thai people with contacts choose to wear color contacts instead. I see mainly fake blue eyes all around me. A friend of mine wears them, and has claimed to us that she wears the blue contacts because otherwise she can’t see them and will forget to take them out. As a 10-year contact wearing veteran, I’m going to call bullshit on that and delve more into the fact that she found it necessary to lie and passively defend her personal choices to her friends. These people are not outwardly defensive. They rarely stand up for themselves when your drunk friend (whose name is often Karl) calls them a bitch. It’s ok though. And it’s ok because they honestly don’t know what else to do. They also often claim they are on diets, but use that term loosely because no sense of nutrition has ever been engrained in their grain-oriented society. My friends have tried diets such as no bread (resulting in a lot of 7/11 snacks and sugar-filled smoothies), no dinner (which, for May, means an oreo shake), and no dessert (ok, so this is fine, but on multiple occasions it has been awkward when they turn down a piece of birthday cake at a celebration). Obsession is real, but always internal and only vocalized when we say “that’s not dinner!” or “why not? It’s delicious!”
But still I believe the fear of being openly self-conscious outweighs the act of self-consciousness. Cue the selfie culture. All Thais like all other Thais selfies on social media, under the unsaid assumption that down the line (and most likely, that’s in the next few hours), the selfie they post will then receive lots of likes in exchange. It is a twentysome culture full of timid yet fakely-confident miniature people who can have trouble confiding in you and saying what they mean.
But somehow, it’s loveable. It’s understandable. It’s forgivable. However, it’s not me.
Jealousy is the least form of self.
Singapore.
Clean.
Ritzy.
Pricey.
Diverse.
Americanized.
Small.
Overall, Singapore was a fascinating place with a city planning infrastructure that would make any ENST major appreciate the modern world. Other than that though, I found myself unfulfilled and confused with what I was doing there, abroad, for the first time since I’ve left home. The lost feeling was not one I openly welcomed, and I didn’t know what to do with myself for these 2.5 days. It was interesting and beautiful in it’s own way, definitely. But it created worry in me that my transition back to the States won’t be as easy as I thought. Also at the same time of making me feel unfulfilled, this place made me realize how deeply important to my happiness nature is, and fancy society is not. It was a wake up call that I needed to create clarity within myself about my wants, needs, and concerns. So I thank Singapore for that. It was quite an experience.
Ritzy.
Pricey.
Diverse.
Americanized.
Small.
Overall, Singapore was a fascinating place with a city planning infrastructure that would make any ENST major appreciate the modern world. Other than that though, I found myself unfulfilled and confused with what I was doing there, abroad, for the first time since I’ve left home. The lost feeling was not one I openly welcomed, and I didn’t know what to do with myself for these 2.5 days. It was interesting and beautiful in it’s own way, definitely. But it created worry in me that my transition back to the States won’t be as easy as I thought. Also at the same time of making me feel unfulfilled, this place made me realize how deeply important to my happiness nature is, and fancy society is not. It was a wake up call that I needed to create clarity within myself about my wants, needs, and concerns. So I thank Singapore for that. It was quite an experience.
Reasons I Love Thailand
NO FUNCTIONAL FIXEDNESS.
1. observation: Big water bottles are filled up and placed on all balconies
reason: To keep the birds away. Birds see the reflection of the water, get confused, and no longer want to land on the balconies or try to fly into the room through the glass doors.
2. observation: Broken glass glued onto walls
reason: Home-made barbed wire for security. Broken glass is seen on top of many walls, especially surrounding houses, to keep animals and people from climbing over the walls. Great form or reuse!
3. observation: half-filled water bottles tied to vendor signs
reason: To weigh down the signs that bring them business. Another awesome form of reuse, especially since Thailand drinks so much water, there is always a surplus of empty water bottles. (If I bring 3 water bottles in to school to recycle I can borrow a bike from campus for the day).
4. observation: CDs glued everywhere
reason: Lighting. In Kapaws, you will see CDs with a bulb through the middle so when the light turns on at night, it reflects further than the small bulb can muster alone. They are also on all the bicycles for night reflectors. Cars also use them sometimes, but more times than not the neon Mountain Dew bottles are used instead, hanging from all the back wheels of a 16-wheeler.
1. observation: Big water bottles are filled up and placed on all balconies
reason: To keep the birds away. Birds see the reflection of the water, get confused, and no longer want to land on the balconies or try to fly into the room through the glass doors.
2. observation: Broken glass glued onto walls
reason: Home-made barbed wire for security. Broken glass is seen on top of many walls, especially surrounding houses, to keep animals and people from climbing over the walls. Great form or reuse!
3. observation: half-filled water bottles tied to vendor signs
reason: To weigh down the signs that bring them business. Another awesome form of reuse, especially since Thailand drinks so much water, there is always a surplus of empty water bottles. (If I bring 3 water bottles in to school to recycle I can borrow a bike from campus for the day).
4. observation: CDs glued everywhere
reason: Lighting. In Kapaws, you will see CDs with a bulb through the middle so when the light turns on at night, it reflects further than the small bulb can muster alone. They are also on all the bicycles for night reflectors. Cars also use them sometimes, but more times than not the neon Mountain Dew bottles are used instead, hanging from all the back wheels of a 16-wheeler.
Same Same But Different: Myanmar
Let this post begin with a disclaimer: Anything I have to write here will never do Myanmar justice. With that out of the way, I’ll try to describe our trip henceforth. Pictures to follow.
We arrived in Yangon to an old, theater-esque airport as it torrentially down-poured. The streets were completely flooded, but everyone was still out wading through the dirt water, making no indication of annoyance besides the occasional stumble when they couldn’t see the sidewalk had ended. The drainage was the worst I’ve ever seen, and trash lined the sidewalks everywhere. We wandered around the next day, visiting the Schwedagon, a massive pure gold Pagoda in the center of town that had been around for thousands of years and that allegedly held the Buddha’s teeth, hair, ladle, and walking cane within its courtyard. People were very kind, helping us learn and showing us how to pray and perform the rituals for our birth day. We went to the train station in the morning to buy our sleeper train tickets, and one of the men selling our tickets ended up showing us where the nearest samosas were (the cravings are SO real). He ate with us, then said we could go on the Circle Train around the city for fun. He said he would take us since he had nothing better to do before he rode our train with us, collecting the tickets. We rode on a train east, then realized it was the wrong direction and headed west. In between, everyone smiled their red-stained teeth from tobacco “beetle poppers” at us and said “Mingalaba” so frequently it often seemed like a recording. Eventually, we realize the market we were trying to reach is closed on Mondays, and tell our friend we will meet him on the train since now all we wanted to do was put down our packs and drink some coffee.
In the coffee shop doubling as a supermarket, Thrift Shop played over the loud speakers and we sat there with our coffee and desserts. It was a crazy sensory overload, and the first of many times this trip where we had to stop and chuckle to ourselves while asking each other: “Where even ARE we?!”
(An obvious important sidenote: the alcohol for 680ml was 50 cents. That was not a typo. I repeat: 50 cents.)
We loaded on the train, only to discover that we were essentially locked into a 4-bed car, with no means of socializing with other people. I think all the farangs realized that at the same instant, and as our train chugged away, we all leaned out the window for a moment of solace. “You had no idea about this either? Ok great. At the next stop we’ll run over and join you over there. Cheers!” Thus begins the story of our neighboring car. They were amazing people who I don’t need to talk too much about, but we ended up drinking the whole night the small amount of alcohol we all had, yelling for more beer at all the stops, running from car to car multiple times as the train began leaving each station, loving the spontaneity and beauty of everything. Somewhere in the middle of all this, our Burmese friend from earlier found us. He doesn’t drink or smoke, but did show us some amazing magic tricks! He at one point offered to show us all around Bagan for free and just practice his English with us—he was a genuinely kind soul. However, at one station, a band of police came to him and were yelling, pointing at our empty car, and obviously accusing him of something. He was detained while the train pulled away—we waved to him in despair but he only looked at us and kept yelling “It is all OK!” It seems there was a misunderstanding that ended in our friend having to stay at this bum-fuck-nowhere Burmese town all night, and we never did see him again. His kindness is not forgotten.
The second we reached Bagan, the culture shock was strong. We thought we were accustomed to most things after Thai and Cambodian trips, but Bagan was a new level. Completely, wholeheartedly different. I’ve never been to a place that was so lacking of a tourist element. It was so natural. Even saying “authentic” seems forced, duplicated, and inaccurate. The best way we’ve found to describe it is that it is 100% where the Jungle Book is placed. Dry air, pagodas every which way you turn, sugar cane juice on every corner, every single person in Longyis (a circular shirt tied without a knot at the waist or collarbone, depending on gender and preference). These people were so nice and helpful, but not because they had too much to gain from tourism. It was because they lived separately, but equally. One thing that I’ll never forget is how genuine the smiles of everyone were—you could see it in their eyes that they were happy to say hello to you, just happy to see you in their element. It was the most pure form of contentness I’ve ever seen.
Also this country has developed well, but in an entirely different direction than any place I’ve ever been. Lin Lin, our 18 year old guide for a hike on day, had a smart phone but lived in a bamboo hut with 6 people, no larger than the dorm rooms at school. He told us that 50% of his high school class will go to University in Mandalay, and people usually don’t marry in Myanmar until around the age of 27 after they have properly learned a trade. These people are poor by American standards, yet smart and practical with zero functional fixedness. We visited a handmade lacquerware store, where we saw how bamboo is shaped and coated with lacquer 14 times within the span of a year to make beautiful decorative pieces. After the coatings, these women carve any shapes into the lacquer with pointy pencils. It takes them 4 weeks to carve out a big vase. The red color is dyed first then washed. Any other patterns they want to be green on the piece are carved out now, then dyed and washed. This is repeated for the yellow color as well. It was fascinating and humbling to see this entire family make their own dye (the green is from the sea and made by hand-grinding stone on a big slab of granite for tiny rock-dust shavings, while the red and yellow come from the mountain), carve their own shapes, wash each piece, and sell it to the world all from the back of a beautifully stitched bamboo hut. And believe me, these people made bank. They were in the middle of a special order of chopsticks to a hotel in Canada, and the small boxes sold for $30. It was terribly impressive.
From there, Char and I hopped on our pathetic e-bike and attempted to make it through a local village that was much too sandy for our horsepower to handle. We fell many times and got stuck even more, and just laughed and laughed and laughed. This allowed for all the natives to laugh with us, and it was great fun. We ended up asking for directions to a Pagoda from a lady making fried vegetable treats, and bought 10 for 500 Khat (about 50 cents). They ushered us into their house, gave us water, let us play with their children, then sent us on our haphazard way. Their reflexive kindness is unmatched. We ended up on our way to the Pagoda, but Anne spotted a herd of cows which we naturally had to drive through. Thus commenced the off-roading adventure, winding around small brick centurie-old pagodas to herd a huge group of cows. Anne stumbled upon a bull, and he looked very mad so we booked it away as fast as possible. Charlotte basically ran over a tree, and Anne stabbed herself by driving through a giant patch of desert thorns. It was a hilarious scene and I definitely peed myself a little from laughing so hard. “Where even ARE we?!”
Soon the women in charge of the herd showed up and laughed at us while magically keeping their 15 gallon bags on their heads. They marched the cows off, and we vowed to meet them on the road. We zoom back and end up riding straight through a massive cow herd on the dirt roads of Burma with pagodas as far as the eye can see. It was so crazy! Maybe no one will ever understand the moment we had here, but it changed everything. It was natural, organic, real. People survive by doing this. It was even a wonder to be surrounded by such docile power. You remember your breathing, you breathe in the dirt, you imagine the feel of their skin, you feel the sun burn your back. And you recall the moment you’re in and you forget all the ones you’ve had prior.
There are many other things that happened in Myanmar, but this day was the most beautiful. Let it be known that we saw a cloudy sunset off the top of a pagoda, where we had to climb vertical stairs through bat guano to reach the secret top and enjoyed each other’s peaceful company so fully that I had nothing worth thinking about. We did few events, but soaked up every cultural aspect we could so much that when the 2 days passed, we could barely recall what blew our minds initially. Regardless of events, that was possibly the best way I’ve ever spent my time. And that’s just the beginning and end of it, no more explanation needed.
“One minute was enough; A person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.”
We arrived in Yangon to an old, theater-esque airport as it torrentially down-poured. The streets were completely flooded, but everyone was still out wading through the dirt water, making no indication of annoyance besides the occasional stumble when they couldn’t see the sidewalk had ended. The drainage was the worst I’ve ever seen, and trash lined the sidewalks everywhere. We wandered around the next day, visiting the Schwedagon, a massive pure gold Pagoda in the center of town that had been around for thousands of years and that allegedly held the Buddha’s teeth, hair, ladle, and walking cane within its courtyard. People were very kind, helping us learn and showing us how to pray and perform the rituals for our birth day. We went to the train station in the morning to buy our sleeper train tickets, and one of the men selling our tickets ended up showing us where the nearest samosas were (the cravings are SO real). He ate with us, then said we could go on the Circle Train around the city for fun. He said he would take us since he had nothing better to do before he rode our train with us, collecting the tickets. We rode on a train east, then realized it was the wrong direction and headed west. In between, everyone smiled their red-stained teeth from tobacco “beetle poppers” at us and said “Mingalaba” so frequently it often seemed like a recording. Eventually, we realize the market we were trying to reach is closed on Mondays, and tell our friend we will meet him on the train since now all we wanted to do was put down our packs and drink some coffee.
In the coffee shop doubling as a supermarket, Thrift Shop played over the loud speakers and we sat there with our coffee and desserts. It was a crazy sensory overload, and the first of many times this trip where we had to stop and chuckle to ourselves while asking each other: “Where even ARE we?!”
(An obvious important sidenote: the alcohol for 680ml was 50 cents. That was not a typo. I repeat: 50 cents.)
We loaded on the train, only to discover that we were essentially locked into a 4-bed car, with no means of socializing with other people. I think all the farangs realized that at the same instant, and as our train chugged away, we all leaned out the window for a moment of solace. “You had no idea about this either? Ok great. At the next stop we’ll run over and join you over there. Cheers!” Thus begins the story of our neighboring car. They were amazing people who I don’t need to talk too much about, but we ended up drinking the whole night the small amount of alcohol we all had, yelling for more beer at all the stops, running from car to car multiple times as the train began leaving each station, loving the spontaneity and beauty of everything. Somewhere in the middle of all this, our Burmese friend from earlier found us. He doesn’t drink or smoke, but did show us some amazing magic tricks! He at one point offered to show us all around Bagan for free and just practice his English with us—he was a genuinely kind soul. However, at one station, a band of police came to him and were yelling, pointing at our empty car, and obviously accusing him of something. He was detained while the train pulled away—we waved to him in despair but he only looked at us and kept yelling “It is all OK!” It seems there was a misunderstanding that ended in our friend having to stay at this bum-fuck-nowhere Burmese town all night, and we never did see him again. His kindness is not forgotten.
The second we reached Bagan, the culture shock was strong. We thought we were accustomed to most things after Thai and Cambodian trips, but Bagan was a new level. Completely, wholeheartedly different. I’ve never been to a place that was so lacking of a tourist element. It was so natural. Even saying “authentic” seems forced, duplicated, and inaccurate. The best way we’ve found to describe it is that it is 100% where the Jungle Book is placed. Dry air, pagodas every which way you turn, sugar cane juice on every corner, every single person in Longyis (a circular shirt tied without a knot at the waist or collarbone, depending on gender and preference). These people were so nice and helpful, but not because they had too much to gain from tourism. It was because they lived separately, but equally. One thing that I’ll never forget is how genuine the smiles of everyone were—you could see it in their eyes that they were happy to say hello to you, just happy to see you in their element. It was the most pure form of contentness I’ve ever seen.
Also this country has developed well, but in an entirely different direction than any place I’ve ever been. Lin Lin, our 18 year old guide for a hike on day, had a smart phone but lived in a bamboo hut with 6 people, no larger than the dorm rooms at school. He told us that 50% of his high school class will go to University in Mandalay, and people usually don’t marry in Myanmar until around the age of 27 after they have properly learned a trade. These people are poor by American standards, yet smart and practical with zero functional fixedness. We visited a handmade lacquerware store, where we saw how bamboo is shaped and coated with lacquer 14 times within the span of a year to make beautiful decorative pieces. After the coatings, these women carve any shapes into the lacquer with pointy pencils. It takes them 4 weeks to carve out a big vase. The red color is dyed first then washed. Any other patterns they want to be green on the piece are carved out now, then dyed and washed. This is repeated for the yellow color as well. It was fascinating and humbling to see this entire family make their own dye (the green is from the sea and made by hand-grinding stone on a big slab of granite for tiny rock-dust shavings, while the red and yellow come from the mountain), carve their own shapes, wash each piece, and sell it to the world all from the back of a beautifully stitched bamboo hut. And believe me, these people made bank. They were in the middle of a special order of chopsticks to a hotel in Canada, and the small boxes sold for $30. It was terribly impressive.
From there, Char and I hopped on our pathetic e-bike and attempted to make it through a local village that was much too sandy for our horsepower to handle. We fell many times and got stuck even more, and just laughed and laughed and laughed. This allowed for all the natives to laugh with us, and it was great fun. We ended up asking for directions to a Pagoda from a lady making fried vegetable treats, and bought 10 for 500 Khat (about 50 cents). They ushered us into their house, gave us water, let us play with their children, then sent us on our haphazard way. Their reflexive kindness is unmatched. We ended up on our way to the Pagoda, but Anne spotted a herd of cows which we naturally had to drive through. Thus commenced the off-roading adventure, winding around small brick centurie-old pagodas to herd a huge group of cows. Anne stumbled upon a bull, and he looked very mad so we booked it away as fast as possible. Charlotte basically ran over a tree, and Anne stabbed herself by driving through a giant patch of desert thorns. It was a hilarious scene and I definitely peed myself a little from laughing so hard. “Where even ARE we?!”
Soon the women in charge of the herd showed up and laughed at us while magically keeping their 15 gallon bags on their heads. They marched the cows off, and we vowed to meet them on the road. We zoom back and end up riding straight through a massive cow herd on the dirt roads of Burma with pagodas as far as the eye can see. It was so crazy! Maybe no one will ever understand the moment we had here, but it changed everything. It was natural, organic, real. People survive by doing this. It was even a wonder to be surrounded by such docile power. You remember your breathing, you breathe in the dirt, you imagine the feel of their skin, you feel the sun burn your back. And you recall the moment you’re in and you forget all the ones you’ve had prior.
There are many other things that happened in Myanmar, but this day was the most beautiful. Let it be known that we saw a cloudy sunset off the top of a pagoda, where we had to climb vertical stairs through bat guano to reach the secret top and enjoyed each other’s peaceful company so fully that I had nothing worth thinking about. We did few events, but soaked up every cultural aspect we could so much that when the 2 days passed, we could barely recall what blew our minds initially. Regardless of events, that was possibly the best way I’ve ever spent my time. And that’s just the beginning and end of it, no more explanation needed.
“One minute was enough; A person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.”
Why I Could Be Buddhist
I was searching for a word that meant the emotion where you’re truly content with the realities of life that otherwise seem ‘sad’ or 'depressing’ or 'pessimistic’ when viewed in just one singular moment, because I feel that way often. I realized Buddhism probably had a word to describe this, and here’s just a taste of what I found. It is rare that I find something I agree so completely with:
The Four Noble Truths are regarded as the central doctrine of the Buddhist tradition, and are said to provide a conceptual framework for all of Buddhist thought. These four truths explain the nature of dukkha, its causes, its cessation, and the path leading to its cessation.
The four noble truths are:
The Four Noble Truths are regarded as the central doctrine of the Buddhist tradition, and are said to provide a conceptual framework for all of Buddhist thought. These four truths explain the nature of dukkha, its causes, its cessation, and the path leading to its cessation.
The four noble truths are:
- The truth of dukkha (suffering, anxiety, unsatisfactoriness)
- The truth of the origin of dukkha
- The truth of the cessation of dukkha
- The truth of the path leading to the cessation of dukkha
- The obvious physical and mental suffering associated with birth, growing old, illness and dying.
- The anxiety or stress of trying to hold onto things that are constantly changing.
- A basic unsatisfactoriness pervading all forms of existence, due to the fact that all forms of life are changing, impermanent and without any inner core or substance. On this level, the term indicates a lack of satisfaction, a sense that things never measure up to our expectations or standards.
BKK Only the Good Die Young Rendition
The Medicine Wheel is a design of Consciousness, represented on the wheel using the compass points of the ‘Eight Directions’.
Generally beginning in the East, each of the Eight Directions holds an energy which is present in Life and which each one of us needs in order to care for and maintain balance in our-self and with all we are connected to – Being in balance implies that all of these energies are accessible and vibrant within us. The Wheel across (click on the wheel to bring enlarge it) gives you an opening into these Eight Energies. These Energies form our own internal resources, upon which we can learn to draw at will. By developing a relationship with them in ourselves, we can become aware of when and where we are out of balance and also what is needed to bring us back into balance.
The Eight Energies of Life are all “in us”. As we work with them and the Wheel in an ‘experiential’ and ‘practical’ way, our relationship with those energies and our understanding of ‘Life’, with its Power, its Beauty, its Love, its Mystery, deepens. Our consciousness rises as we expand our awareness to all of Life; we comprehend and appreciate our-selves and all we are connected to more fully. This includes our intimate relationships, family, friends, work colleagues, all people, animals, plants, the world and the Universe itself.
A strong focus in these teachings is Self-Authority, in the knowledge that we are part of Life, in some interdependent way. We then have the choice to be conscious of how we are ‘at the affect of’ and ‘at cause’ of our life-experience.
In an ‘awakened’ state of mind, we see ourselves in self-authority, always holding a sense of responsibility for what is happening – remembering that we are co-creating this in some way. We look for what we can do and change that is within our possibilities, or what we might need to let go. Being in self-authority means we accept how things are without adding any more negative energy to it (negative thoughts, drama…); instead we are willing to use the situation to learn what needs to be learned and do what we can to bring our situation back into wholeness. We take an active role in our self-transformation, learning what is needed to bring and maintain balance in our own life. This way we lower anxiety and return peace to our heart more quickly.
Working with a Medicine Wheel has a sense of sacredness and respect for self and all of Life. We learn to release old patterns that are not life-enhancing and create / strengthen those that are. By seeing all of Life as sacred we learn to accept ourselves as we are, while also seeing that we can grow.
Each one of us has the energy of Life running through us - we are Life. It might be a great Mystery to us what Life actually is – and yet we are it.
[The Yant Paed Tidt is a SE Asian cultural tattoo existing for at least 2000 years; it represents protection in the 8 Directions of the Universe, and the ability to balance them in your life. Within the concentric circles are 8 Mantras].
Generally beginning in the East, each of the Eight Directions holds an energy which is present in Life and which each one of us needs in order to care for and maintain balance in our-self and with all we are connected to – Being in balance implies that all of these energies are accessible and vibrant within us. The Wheel across (click on the wheel to bring enlarge it) gives you an opening into these Eight Energies. These Energies form our own internal resources, upon which we can learn to draw at will. By developing a relationship with them in ourselves, we can become aware of when and where we are out of balance and also what is needed to bring us back into balance.
The Eight Energies of Life are all “in us”. As we work with them and the Wheel in an ‘experiential’ and ‘practical’ way, our relationship with those energies and our understanding of ‘Life’, with its Power, its Beauty, its Love, its Mystery, deepens. Our consciousness rises as we expand our awareness to all of Life; we comprehend and appreciate our-selves and all we are connected to more fully. This includes our intimate relationships, family, friends, work colleagues, all people, animals, plants, the world and the Universe itself.
A strong focus in these teachings is Self-Authority, in the knowledge that we are part of Life, in some interdependent way. We then have the choice to be conscious of how we are ‘at the affect of’ and ‘at cause’ of our life-experience.
In an ‘awakened’ state of mind, we see ourselves in self-authority, always holding a sense of responsibility for what is happening – remembering that we are co-creating this in some way. We look for what we can do and change that is within our possibilities, or what we might need to let go. Being in self-authority means we accept how things are without adding any more negative energy to it (negative thoughts, drama…); instead we are willing to use the situation to learn what needs to be learned and do what we can to bring our situation back into wholeness. We take an active role in our self-transformation, learning what is needed to bring and maintain balance in our own life. This way we lower anxiety and return peace to our heart more quickly.
Working with a Medicine Wheel has a sense of sacredness and respect for self and all of Life. We learn to release old patterns that are not life-enhancing and create / strengthen those that are. By seeing all of Life as sacred we learn to accept ourselves as we are, while also seeing that we can grow.
Each one of us has the energy of Life running through us - we are Life. It might be a great Mystery to us what Life actually is – and yet we are it.
[The Yant Paed Tidt is a SE Asian cultural tattoo existing for at least 2000 years; it represents protection in the 8 Directions of the Universe, and the ability to balance them in your life. Within the concentric circles are 8 Mantras].
Attitude is Everything
–A phrase I first committed to memory in 4th grade, after we took D.A.R.E. class. I’ve embraced this notion since then, and used it to get through some tough or miserable times. But this past weekend that I spend in Khao Yai with Anne, Alex, and Davis made me realize the strength of this mindset. It is practical, yes. But now I’ve felt the strength that is associated with it as well. We planned a getaway to the nearby National Park for just 2 days, and were pumped to be leaving at 6am to start our nature weekend. We took a cab, van, and kapow to the park entrance. Right on cue, the torrential downpour began, with the biggest and loudest thunder cracks I might have ever heard. This sucked like, a LOT, for about 5 seconds. In that 5 seconds, I saw everyone’s mind mull over the situation and come to the same conclusion separately– This could blow, or this could be great. And we’re already here and we’re going to stay here, so we will make it great. And after those 5 seconds, we all had huge smiles plastered on our faces. We immediately hitched a ride in the back of a pickup truck to the visitors center. We were laughing so hard I thought I was going to puke… all the while being soaking wet and sliding around the bed like crazy people. It was hilarious and the most pure fun I’ve had in a while. We were farang turtles in this National Park where no one visits in the dry season, hitching rides in a huge thunderstorm. We looked crazy and we felt terribly alive. While in the bed of that truck, the realization came. If I were with any other combination of people who had even mildly decided to let on to any internal complaints, it would not have been half as much fun. But since they were all being strong and embracing the situation, I naturally followed suite without even fully realizing it. And together our energy played off of one another, jokes flew, and laughter was plentiful. Attitude is everything, and it made a potentially miserable experience a hysterical one. And I’m so eternally grateful to be spending each day in Thailand with these amazing people who constantly show me how to grow and also let me see how much I have grown.
Indonesia
The first night, we all arrived in Surabaya and stayed at a hostel I reserved. At 4:20a.m., I was slowly awoken by all-encompassing Muslim chants. It sounded and felt like it was coming from all around us. It was ear-shattering and foreign and I woke up terrified for my life. It went on for a few minutes, then all of a sudden the speaker stopped and low-toned chants began as a hum from the crowd. Once I realized it was just a mosque about a stone’s throw away from the hostel, I could sleep soundly again. But that was a terrifying moment of mine.
To prepare for hiking Kawah Ijen at 2a.m., Nate, Anne, Karl and I rented a hostel to sleep in from 6-10pm. Note that, during this trip, every hostel with 2 twin beds was perfect for us 4 to sleep. We awoke, had some Java Coffee, and were picked up by our guide at 1a.m. We drove an hour to the base of the volcano, and he told us then that we were the only people climbing it from this side that night. WHOO! We began our trek in pitch black, led by my headlamp and ‘torches’ (aka flashlights; mildly disappointing when we found that out). During our walk, our guide played excessive amounts of Hoobastank, Evanescence, and Rihanna on his phone, so that was hilarious. And the whole time, I could see the Milky Way above. At the top, it was still pitch black and he told us we’d be back up here to watch the sun rise in a few hours. Until then, we go down. And when I say down, I mean into the Mines of Moria. It was treacherous, rocky, and one wrong step would land you in the crater. It was slow goings, but we managed to trek all the way to the sulfur flames, shining bright blue against the night. It was absolutely fantastic. I can’t even express the amazement I felt while gazing upon this phenomenon in my gas mask, eyes burning. I’ve never felt such awe. In that moment, coupled with the mountainous sunrise and view of the blue crater lake, I understood the true depth of words such as “fantastic, amazement, awe”. I will never use those words again in a mundane conversation if I can help it. I felt the meaning of them truly and fully and it was the most fulfilling feeling of my entire life. Feeling small yet blessed, prompted by the natural world that exists around me– there is absolutely nothing like it. And I was amazed.
Ferried (with a ferry beer, of course), over to Bali from Java. Caught a cab from the port to Ubud, with the worst driver of my life. Every other time being in a car in this part of the world, I’ve felt safe. Not because they have safe traffic regulations and abide by the laws, oh hell no. But because people are all such crazy drivers here (by American standards), they are very alert and capable. But this man just crashed us right into the back of a 16-wheeler. We were thrown against the seats in front us us since there are no seat belts here. And then this man just keeps driving like nothing happened. Granted he did get out about 20 miles later to check the front of his car, but that just resulted in him patting the huge dent, chuckling and got back in the car. Nuts.
In Ubud, Anne and I were on our classic “I hate waiting on people when there are places to explore and things to do” rampage, so we left the group. We found ourselves in a temple ground, exploring. I saw a tree house built at the top of this huge holy tree, and found the ladder. We climbed up and looked in the tree house, and that was great. Then we wanted to see a traditional dance performance, but didn’t want to pay 75,000 Rupiah (about $6; yes, we’ve become cheap-asses like never before and it’s great). So I entered a hostel/house/some sort of residence next to the performance, was super polite to the confused inhabitants as I walked through, and ended up following my ears to a massive ornate door that led directly into the performance seating. WIN. This is my life.
That same night, Anne and I met a man on the side of the road who gave us a free taste of some palm oil that his grandfather makes. We told him we were studying Environmental Science and how beautiful Indonesia is, and he said we were his saviors. We are angels to the world, he said, and expressed how grateful he was that we were pursuing saving the planet. Then he gave us a huge discount on our ride to Sanur the next day. DOUBLE WIN.
We went to bed at around 9 to wake up at 12am for another sunrise hike on Batur. Noted, Karl, Anne, Nate and I all cuddled in one twin sized bed. At first as a spooning joke, then because it was hilarious and fun and we love each other, and then because those bastards fell asleep and left me sweating nuts in the middle of it. We went on the hike, and this one was much more crowded. But we zoomed up the volcano and beat all of the crowd. It was much more enjoyable of a hike for me, because it was all rocks and like stair-stepping. I eat that up, instead of a steady incline. We make it to the top, and the sun begins to rise above Mt. Rinjani, one of the best hikes in the world, and a volcano on the next island over. It was breathtaking. In one field of view we could see the Indian Ocean, Lake Batur, a black field of dried lava, rolling hills mixed green and black from the last eruption that looked like the map from LOTR in 3D, a city, Mt. Rinjani, and another volcano much closer. About 5 minutes into the sunrise, fog rolls in faster than I’ve ever seen. It was amazing what nature is capable of, and we all were instantly fascinated with the wind patterns and air pressure of the area that made the fog rush in around us on either side of the peak and then siphon down to the city via a small, invisible tunnel. Also, note that 180 degrees from the Rinjani view, on the opposite side of the peak we were on, was a completely massive crater. For the first time, I’ve felt the meaning of “When you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.” (Nietzsche). The fog was so dense that the rising sun was completely blocked out for about 10 minutes as well. So many amazing natural phenomenons I couldn’t have dreamed up I experienced on top of these volcanoes. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.
We traveled to Sanur, and Karl and I found motorbikes to rent the next day to get to our dive site in Padang Bai. We went to bed early and woke at 5:30am to see our 3rd sunrise in a row in Indonesia. As we each motorbiked up the coast of Bali for an hour, I was full again. Each day, I found a new way of feeling more full than I ever have. Full and free. We found Padang Bai easily, and then drove another hour in the van to our dive site, the USAT Liberty, sunk from WWII. It was an underwhelming dive site– on a black rock beach with divers only about 20m out from the shoreline. We both thought, “OK we’ll this will be ok, but we’re already here so we’ll make the best out of it”. We walk into the water, put our flippers on, and submerge. Immediately, you see a giant dropoff full of small neon blue fish. We swim north, and I almost run straight into this ship from observing the sealife on the ocean floor. It was absolutely massive. I couldn’t crane my neck enough to see the top of this ship. It took 45 minutes to circumvent it, and we did this twice. We saw sea slugs, a giant conch, a turtle swimming down from the surface, a giant grouper, an even bigger Barracuda in a dark corner thinking about what it wanted to eat for breakfast as it chomped its teeth slowly, sea urchins, Giant tye-dye clams that shut when you push water towards them, and countless other fish that I never would see otherwise– how many of them were designed with evolution in mind was confounding, as I am not sure how such brightly colored fish survive. But the thing that blew me away the most was amazing was the coral. So many different colors, textures, shapes, sizes, growth patterns, habitats– my mind was blown by the beauty. I could have stared at it for forever and a half. This dive made me reestablish faith in humanity and the power of the earth. It gave me hope and happiness and peace. And again, I was full.
On our motorbike drive back from Padang Bai, we had gas left and time left, so decided to try getting to Kuta, a beach that people say is their favorite on Bali. But we ended up getting lost in Denpasar, and were probably a minute away from the beach at all times. But the traffic was terrifying and I almost got hit on my little motor scooter too many times. That was definitely the most dangerous thing I’ve ever intentionally done, and I was scared for my life. We were frustrated, drained from driving in the sun for 4 hours, and thus turned around in attempts to make it home alive. 3 turns away from our hostel, we stop at a red light and I was in the pedestrian walkway. Police come up to us, ask for our registration, and make us come to the side of the road. They try to fine us for not having international drivers licenses and being over the line. They were the most corrupt people I’ve ever met, and they targeted us as the white people. They tried to make us pay 750,000 Rupiah each, or about 66$, but I literally had no money. Karl gave them all he had so that they would let us leave, which was about $30 each. UGH. Worst of all, our motor bike lady said they usually only get 100,000 Rupiah from people at the most during their police shake downs. That was the biggest waste of money I’ve ever spent, and wish I had blazed through the red light to escape them like you’re supposed to. But it’s a life experience, and there’s nothing that can be done except tell it at a good dinner party in a few years.
During our last night, it was Maureen’s birthday. We spent the day lounging on the beach and attempting to surf, but it was too difficult to get past the breakers. We split a cheap bottle of whiskey and mixed it with Burger King Slushies and drank on the beach together. We just sat and talked intellectually about exploring people, how we identify with religion, what is consciousness, if humans are a part of nature, etc. Anne made the point that since we believe there are parts of the human brain that we can’t fully explain with science, such as what makes us feel wonder in such an amazing place, why can’t there be those parts of an animal’s consciousness as well? It made me think about vegetarianism differently, and I appreciated that a lot. What I’ve realized I love about these people is that I feel like much more of an inquisitive adult with them. If you say fishing makes to immensely happy, I want to know why. Not just accept that statement and move on, like I used to. It is a way of getting to know someone deeper that I hadn’t realized or thought about before. Tell me why, not what. That’s what I want to find out.
This trip changed my life. I’m sorry if you’re getting tired of hearing that, but it’s true. Indonesia is perhaps my most favorite place in the world.
To prepare for hiking Kawah Ijen at 2a.m., Nate, Anne, Karl and I rented a hostel to sleep in from 6-10pm. Note that, during this trip, every hostel with 2 twin beds was perfect for us 4 to sleep. We awoke, had some Java Coffee, and were picked up by our guide at 1a.m. We drove an hour to the base of the volcano, and he told us then that we were the only people climbing it from this side that night. WHOO! We began our trek in pitch black, led by my headlamp and ‘torches’ (aka flashlights; mildly disappointing when we found that out). During our walk, our guide played excessive amounts of Hoobastank, Evanescence, and Rihanna on his phone, so that was hilarious. And the whole time, I could see the Milky Way above. At the top, it was still pitch black and he told us we’d be back up here to watch the sun rise in a few hours. Until then, we go down. And when I say down, I mean into the Mines of Moria. It was treacherous, rocky, and one wrong step would land you in the crater. It was slow goings, but we managed to trek all the way to the sulfur flames, shining bright blue against the night. It was absolutely fantastic. I can’t even express the amazement I felt while gazing upon this phenomenon in my gas mask, eyes burning. I’ve never felt such awe. In that moment, coupled with the mountainous sunrise and view of the blue crater lake, I understood the true depth of words such as “fantastic, amazement, awe”. I will never use those words again in a mundane conversation if I can help it. I felt the meaning of them truly and fully and it was the most fulfilling feeling of my entire life. Feeling small yet blessed, prompted by the natural world that exists around me– there is absolutely nothing like it. And I was amazed.
Ferried (with a ferry beer, of course), over to Bali from Java. Caught a cab from the port to Ubud, with the worst driver of my life. Every other time being in a car in this part of the world, I’ve felt safe. Not because they have safe traffic regulations and abide by the laws, oh hell no. But because people are all such crazy drivers here (by American standards), they are very alert and capable. But this man just crashed us right into the back of a 16-wheeler. We were thrown against the seats in front us us since there are no seat belts here. And then this man just keeps driving like nothing happened. Granted he did get out about 20 miles later to check the front of his car, but that just resulted in him patting the huge dent, chuckling and got back in the car. Nuts.
In Ubud, Anne and I were on our classic “I hate waiting on people when there are places to explore and things to do” rampage, so we left the group. We found ourselves in a temple ground, exploring. I saw a tree house built at the top of this huge holy tree, and found the ladder. We climbed up and looked in the tree house, and that was great. Then we wanted to see a traditional dance performance, but didn’t want to pay 75,000 Rupiah (about $6; yes, we’ve become cheap-asses like never before and it’s great). So I entered a hostel/house/some sort of residence next to the performance, was super polite to the confused inhabitants as I walked through, and ended up following my ears to a massive ornate door that led directly into the performance seating. WIN. This is my life.
That same night, Anne and I met a man on the side of the road who gave us a free taste of some palm oil that his grandfather makes. We told him we were studying Environmental Science and how beautiful Indonesia is, and he said we were his saviors. We are angels to the world, he said, and expressed how grateful he was that we were pursuing saving the planet. Then he gave us a huge discount on our ride to Sanur the next day. DOUBLE WIN.
We went to bed at around 9 to wake up at 12am for another sunrise hike on Batur. Noted, Karl, Anne, Nate and I all cuddled in one twin sized bed. At first as a spooning joke, then because it was hilarious and fun and we love each other, and then because those bastards fell asleep and left me sweating nuts in the middle of it. We went on the hike, and this one was much more crowded. But we zoomed up the volcano and beat all of the crowd. It was much more enjoyable of a hike for me, because it was all rocks and like stair-stepping. I eat that up, instead of a steady incline. We make it to the top, and the sun begins to rise above Mt. Rinjani, one of the best hikes in the world, and a volcano on the next island over. It was breathtaking. In one field of view we could see the Indian Ocean, Lake Batur, a black field of dried lava, rolling hills mixed green and black from the last eruption that looked like the map from LOTR in 3D, a city, Mt. Rinjani, and another volcano much closer. About 5 minutes into the sunrise, fog rolls in faster than I’ve ever seen. It was amazing what nature is capable of, and we all were instantly fascinated with the wind patterns and air pressure of the area that made the fog rush in around us on either side of the peak and then siphon down to the city via a small, invisible tunnel. Also, note that 180 degrees from the Rinjani view, on the opposite side of the peak we were on, was a completely massive crater. For the first time, I’ve felt the meaning of “When you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.” (Nietzsche). The fog was so dense that the rising sun was completely blocked out for about 10 minutes as well. So many amazing natural phenomenons I couldn’t have dreamed up I experienced on top of these volcanoes. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.
We traveled to Sanur, and Karl and I found motorbikes to rent the next day to get to our dive site in Padang Bai. We went to bed early and woke at 5:30am to see our 3rd sunrise in a row in Indonesia. As we each motorbiked up the coast of Bali for an hour, I was full again. Each day, I found a new way of feeling more full than I ever have. Full and free. We found Padang Bai easily, and then drove another hour in the van to our dive site, the USAT Liberty, sunk from WWII. It was an underwhelming dive site– on a black rock beach with divers only about 20m out from the shoreline. We both thought, “OK we’ll this will be ok, but we’re already here so we’ll make the best out of it”. We walk into the water, put our flippers on, and submerge. Immediately, you see a giant dropoff full of small neon blue fish. We swim north, and I almost run straight into this ship from observing the sealife on the ocean floor. It was absolutely massive. I couldn’t crane my neck enough to see the top of this ship. It took 45 minutes to circumvent it, and we did this twice. We saw sea slugs, a giant conch, a turtle swimming down from the surface, a giant grouper, an even bigger Barracuda in a dark corner thinking about what it wanted to eat for breakfast as it chomped its teeth slowly, sea urchins, Giant tye-dye clams that shut when you push water towards them, and countless other fish that I never would see otherwise– how many of them were designed with evolution in mind was confounding, as I am not sure how such brightly colored fish survive. But the thing that blew me away the most was amazing was the coral. So many different colors, textures, shapes, sizes, growth patterns, habitats– my mind was blown by the beauty. I could have stared at it for forever and a half. This dive made me reestablish faith in humanity and the power of the earth. It gave me hope and happiness and peace. And again, I was full.
On our motorbike drive back from Padang Bai, we had gas left and time left, so decided to try getting to Kuta, a beach that people say is their favorite on Bali. But we ended up getting lost in Denpasar, and were probably a minute away from the beach at all times. But the traffic was terrifying and I almost got hit on my little motor scooter too many times. That was definitely the most dangerous thing I’ve ever intentionally done, and I was scared for my life. We were frustrated, drained from driving in the sun for 4 hours, and thus turned around in attempts to make it home alive. 3 turns away from our hostel, we stop at a red light and I was in the pedestrian walkway. Police come up to us, ask for our registration, and make us come to the side of the road. They try to fine us for not having international drivers licenses and being over the line. They were the most corrupt people I’ve ever met, and they targeted us as the white people. They tried to make us pay 750,000 Rupiah each, or about 66$, but I literally had no money. Karl gave them all he had so that they would let us leave, which was about $30 each. UGH. Worst of all, our motor bike lady said they usually only get 100,000 Rupiah from people at the most during their police shake downs. That was the biggest waste of money I’ve ever spent, and wish I had blazed through the red light to escape them like you’re supposed to. But it’s a life experience, and there’s nothing that can be done except tell it at a good dinner party in a few years.
During our last night, it was Maureen’s birthday. We spent the day lounging on the beach and attempting to surf, but it was too difficult to get past the breakers. We split a cheap bottle of whiskey and mixed it with Burger King Slushies and drank on the beach together. We just sat and talked intellectually about exploring people, how we identify with religion, what is consciousness, if humans are a part of nature, etc. Anne made the point that since we believe there are parts of the human brain that we can’t fully explain with science, such as what makes us feel wonder in such an amazing place, why can’t there be those parts of an animal’s consciousness as well? It made me think about vegetarianism differently, and I appreciated that a lot. What I’ve realized I love about these people is that I feel like much more of an inquisitive adult with them. If you say fishing makes to immensely happy, I want to know why. Not just accept that statement and move on, like I used to. It is a way of getting to know someone deeper that I hadn’t realized or thought about before. Tell me why, not what. That’s what I want to find out.
This trip changed my life. I’m sorry if you’re getting tired of hearing that, but it’s true. Indonesia is perhaps my most favorite place in the world.
A Village Exploration
Today Anne and I woke up early to study for our 2 exams this coming week. Then around noon, from an overload of studying and a need for food, it inevitably became adventure time. We set off to eat, and ended up ceasing our journey early out of sheer hunger. AKA we ate at the top of our neighborhood. Then we decided to do one of my most [nearby] favorite things to do—wander side streets. Canal streets are by far my favorite however: picture a concrete sidewalk 1.5 feet wide with stagnant trashy water on either side. If you wander far enough from the main road, you will run into neighborhoods. But they are nothing like ordinary. They are stilt houses, with half the house outside in the open air. There are hammocks, power lines, canals, wooden boats, satellite dishes, and gates all around. All dilapidated, but still in working condition, which is all these people need. Where we went today was just like all of these canal communities we’ve seen so far, but doubled as a fruit plantation as well. There we man-made canals surrounding our walkway full of coconut, banana, and mango trees. The water was bright, neon green from excess eutrophication, which colored everything brilliantly. It was so dense that it looked like a field you could walk on, and like the pictures they show you in AP Enviro. Per usual, everyone was kind as we walked passed, bowing as we say ‘Sawadee Ca’ in our best Thai accents. Eventually we stumble across a field with many Thai adults playing Bocci. We decided to go in, even though I felt out of my comfort zone. Noted, I had to remind myself that going to visit with them was exactly what I should want to do, and thus I realized it was exactly what I did want to do. Anyways, we went in and began talking to them. They spoke minimal English, and us 'nee noy’ Thai, but they were remarkably kind and taught us how to play. Then they fed us lunch which consisted of rice, bamboo, and fish they had caught all in a Som Tum sauce. It was delicious! Then a man we had been communicating with, Wintod, kept making a pole motion and saying “Lom” and “Woo”. We could not understand him, so he motioned that he would be right back. He soon returned with kites that he had made! They were bright and beautiful. Handcrafted from bamboo, twine (“ban”), and silk thread, they were works of art. We then learned he had been motioning of the wind and kites, respectively. There was also this pole mechanism I had spotted earlier propped on their soccer goal, and now it came into use. We strung the string through a metal ring on the end of this 20 foot bamboo pole, and this allowed us to bring the kite up into the air easily, as we tilted the pole backwards over the goal post. It was brilliant! There wasn’t much “lom” so the big kites didn’t fly so well, but it was still amazing to see such an active part of their culture. He said he makes them for fun, not for sale. That is something I admire greatly. We promised them we would be back next Sunday, and I hope to stand by that promise as this was one of the greatest cultural experiences I’ve had yet. Their natural kindness and generosity made me realize more fully how Thai people live, even in neighborhoods without real roads or addresses. Some would have called it a slum, but it was just another neighborhood where people were living happily together. Oh, and did I mention we could see our apartment buildings right next door from the field? That’s right, this place, the Suan Thon Village, surrounds our giant apartment complex. I am eternally grateful that I’ve experienced the culture, very literally, around me, and hope to explore that labyrinth and those people more as I learn more Thai and spend more time here.
Koh Chang Fears
Went to an island where the best two days of my life ensued. Plot includes: Kayaking, tree climbing, motorskootering, massages, drinking, streaking, Eno-ing and singing.
Shyamalan Twist: On the bus ride home at about 10 pm on a dark, rural road, the driver parks on the side of the road, slides open the van door to wake our frazzled Thai friend, yells at our only Thai friend in Thai, gets back in and keeps driving. The submissive Thai that she is by nature, she said “I don’t want to tell you what he said”. After pushing, she translated his words to “If you all quiet down, maybe I will let you live.” Needless to say, the stupid Americans shut the hell up. The small Asian wouldn’t explain more, besides saying “Maybe we get robbed”. We cool down after a bit once she explains he just wanted us to be quiet, and the body shakes simmer. Almost right when normal breathing patters had resumed, the small Asian takes a picture of the driver. With flash. As he’s talking viciously on his telephone. Suddenly, visions of sex slavery danced in our heads. Heart palpitations ensued. My heart dropped out of my butt as I realized this is what my mother had warned me about all this time. This was the moment we’d all fall apart: the beginning of the end. He stopped at a gas station, and we harassed the small Asian about giving us the actual translation of what he said. The submissive culture in Thailand made her nervously laugh at us as she told us he was just crazy and said we were the loudest people he’s ever driven. She claimed she wasn’t threatened, but the boys bought knives and scissors before we got back into the car just in case a murder needed to take place.
Needless to say, all was actually fine and we made it home safely. He was just a coked out cabbie and we were just loud Americans. but that was the most terrifying half hour of our lives. Stay tuned for more adventures, and mainly great bad decisions. Chun Gauw! (cheers)
Shyamalan Twist: On the bus ride home at about 10 pm on a dark, rural road, the driver parks on the side of the road, slides open the van door to wake our frazzled Thai friend, yells at our only Thai friend in Thai, gets back in and keeps driving. The submissive Thai that she is by nature, she said “I don’t want to tell you what he said”. After pushing, she translated his words to “If you all quiet down, maybe I will let you live.” Needless to say, the stupid Americans shut the hell up. The small Asian wouldn’t explain more, besides saying “Maybe we get robbed”. We cool down after a bit once she explains he just wanted us to be quiet, and the body shakes simmer. Almost right when normal breathing patters had resumed, the small Asian takes a picture of the driver. With flash. As he’s talking viciously on his telephone. Suddenly, visions of sex slavery danced in our heads. Heart palpitations ensued. My heart dropped out of my butt as I realized this is what my mother had warned me about all this time. This was the moment we’d all fall apart: the beginning of the end. He stopped at a gas station, and we harassed the small Asian about giving us the actual translation of what he said. The submissive culture in Thailand made her nervously laugh at us as she told us he was just crazy and said we were the loudest people he’s ever driven. She claimed she wasn’t threatened, but the boys bought knives and scissors before we got back into the car just in case a murder needed to take place.
Needless to say, all was actually fine and we made it home safely. He was just a coked out cabbie and we were just loud Americans. but that was the most terrifying half hour of our lives. Stay tuned for more adventures, and mainly great bad decisions. Chun Gauw! (cheers)
Oh, Cambodia.
[Written alongside my good friend, Davis Plunkett. My photos accompany the piece].
I’m finding it very hard to know how to approach this post. Cambodia was unlike anywhere I have ever been, unlike anything I ever expected, completely worthwhile, and overwhelmingly frustrating. It still confounds me. But I guess I will start at the beginning.
Karl, Eden, Charlotte, Josh, Rob, Nate, Anne E, and I all went. We took a train from Bangkok’s big station Hua Lamphong. I wasn’t expecting much, but the station was really cool. I was tickled by the Monk’s Only seating.
Our ride was uneventful, if you don’t count being periodically covered in soot from trash fires burning near the tracks. It took us from 1 to 8 pm to get to the border. There, we had to take a Tuk Tuk (open air taxis) to the crossing. Getting out of Thailand was easy, but getting into Cambodia was a wake up call. We knew we needed visa’s on arrival and came prepared with $20 to pay for them. The immigration officer informed us we would need another 100 baht to get processed. Our first minutes in Cambodia and we got extorted. Shortly thereafter, our driver to Siam Reap had to bribe the police just to let us get out of the city. I’m telling you, the corruption was so blatant, I could hardly believe it. But we got where we needed to go. Actually met a guy that went to UNC; he recognized me from eating at Alpine and we shared the van to Siam Reap. The world keeps getting bigger and smaller all the time.
The next day we explored the town a bit and decided to check out the Floating Market advertised by our hostel. Most activities could be booked at the Hostel, which would provide transportation. It sounded cool, so we decided to go for it.
What happened next changed my life. We rode for about 30 minutes. The scenery changed gradually until it was clear we were in a very poor area. Siam Reap had concrete buildings, power lines, and though it was dirty, it was not uncomfortably so. When the landscape gave way to endless flat and shallow water, the buildings became ramshackle. Thrown together with steel sheets and tarps, the financial state of the occupants was clear.
Soon, the Tuk Tuk stopped on the banks of a man-made lake. We were here, but here was not at all what I expected. I thought we would find a quaint village with floating houses strung together, filled with people ready to interact with us, try to rip us off, ect. That was my view of Cambodia. What we saw instead was the most raw form of poverty imaginable. It was a slum. There were houses that floated on the lake, but more that lined the shores, supported by huge stilts. The shores were further lined with trash. It was so prevalent, it almost felt like trash was part of the earth here. There were men wading into green water, filled with sewage and trash to move boats. It smelled unlike anything else; like rot, urine, fish, garbage. And it was hot, relentlessly hot.
It was the kind of place you could make a documentary about. There was an air of resignation, a hollow look from the people there that told me we were not welcome. We were starting at their lives open-mouthed, uncomprehending. I felt dirty. Not dirty like I was covered in dirt (which I was from the ride) but like there was something deeply wrong with what I was seeing. People shouldn’t have to live like that. I was disgusted and horrified, not with them, but with myself. I had been ignorant to this existence. These places existed for me only on a TV screen. No amount of knowledge, no photographs, can really say what such a place is like. And so, despite not getting what I expected, I was incredibly glad we went there. I had my eyes opened and I felt that experience become part of my soul. That’s the only way I can describe it. I felt that experience become part of my soul. In that moment, I would have given my life for those people. It was the most emotionally powerful experience of my life. And I was only there an hour.
Phew. That was a lot. But the trip’s not over. The next day was Angkor, the ancient capital city of the Khmer Empire that once ruled Cambodia. Angkor was a thriving city about 1000 years ago, and the main attraction, Angkor Wat, remains to this day the largest religious structure every built. It is also a National World heritage site.
It was beautiful. The only thing I could compare it to was the Aztec ruins in Belize, which I am lucky enough to have seen. Cambodia may have a lot of things wrong with it, but their restoration efforts in Angkor are remarkable. I took so many pictures I ran through my camera battery in 4 hours. These first ones are from Ta Prohm, then a few smaller ruins Thommanon and Chau Say Tevoda, then Angkor Thom and the temple Bayon. Please click on the pictures to see more detail.
That’s all for now. Freaking Cambodia.
I’m finding it very hard to know how to approach this post. Cambodia was unlike anywhere I have ever been, unlike anything I ever expected, completely worthwhile, and overwhelmingly frustrating. It still confounds me. But I guess I will start at the beginning.
Karl, Eden, Charlotte, Josh, Rob, Nate, Anne E, and I all went. We took a train from Bangkok’s big station Hua Lamphong. I wasn’t expecting much, but the station was really cool. I was tickled by the Monk’s Only seating.
Our ride was uneventful, if you don’t count being periodically covered in soot from trash fires burning near the tracks. It took us from 1 to 8 pm to get to the border. There, we had to take a Tuk Tuk (open air taxis) to the crossing. Getting out of Thailand was easy, but getting into Cambodia was a wake up call. We knew we needed visa’s on arrival and came prepared with $20 to pay for them. The immigration officer informed us we would need another 100 baht to get processed. Our first minutes in Cambodia and we got extorted. Shortly thereafter, our driver to Siam Reap had to bribe the police just to let us get out of the city. I’m telling you, the corruption was so blatant, I could hardly believe it. But we got where we needed to go. Actually met a guy that went to UNC; he recognized me from eating at Alpine and we shared the van to Siam Reap. The world keeps getting bigger and smaller all the time.
The next day we explored the town a bit and decided to check out the Floating Market advertised by our hostel. Most activities could be booked at the Hostel, which would provide transportation. It sounded cool, so we decided to go for it.
What happened next changed my life. We rode for about 30 minutes. The scenery changed gradually until it was clear we were in a very poor area. Siam Reap had concrete buildings, power lines, and though it was dirty, it was not uncomfortably so. When the landscape gave way to endless flat and shallow water, the buildings became ramshackle. Thrown together with steel sheets and tarps, the financial state of the occupants was clear.
Soon, the Tuk Tuk stopped on the banks of a man-made lake. We were here, but here was not at all what I expected. I thought we would find a quaint village with floating houses strung together, filled with people ready to interact with us, try to rip us off, ect. That was my view of Cambodia. What we saw instead was the most raw form of poverty imaginable. It was a slum. There were houses that floated on the lake, but more that lined the shores, supported by huge stilts. The shores were further lined with trash. It was so prevalent, it almost felt like trash was part of the earth here. There were men wading into green water, filled with sewage and trash to move boats. It smelled unlike anything else; like rot, urine, fish, garbage. And it was hot, relentlessly hot.
It was the kind of place you could make a documentary about. There was an air of resignation, a hollow look from the people there that told me we were not welcome. We were starting at their lives open-mouthed, uncomprehending. I felt dirty. Not dirty like I was covered in dirt (which I was from the ride) but like there was something deeply wrong with what I was seeing. People shouldn’t have to live like that. I was disgusted and horrified, not with them, but with myself. I had been ignorant to this existence. These places existed for me only on a TV screen. No amount of knowledge, no photographs, can really say what such a place is like. And so, despite not getting what I expected, I was incredibly glad we went there. I had my eyes opened and I felt that experience become part of my soul. That’s the only way I can describe it. I felt that experience become part of my soul. In that moment, I would have given my life for those people. It was the most emotionally powerful experience of my life. And I was only there an hour.
Phew. That was a lot. But the trip’s not over. The next day was Angkor, the ancient capital city of the Khmer Empire that once ruled Cambodia. Angkor was a thriving city about 1000 years ago, and the main attraction, Angkor Wat, remains to this day the largest religious structure every built. It is also a National World heritage site.
It was beautiful. The only thing I could compare it to was the Aztec ruins in Belize, which I am lucky enough to have seen. Cambodia may have a lot of things wrong with it, but their restoration efforts in Angkor are remarkable. I took so many pictures I ran through my camera battery in 4 hours. These first ones are from Ta Prohm, then a few smaller ruins Thommanon and Chau Say Tevoda, then Angkor Thom and the temple Bayon. Please click on the pictures to see more detail.
That’s all for now. Freaking Cambodia.
Some random person at our school, KMUTT, took this picture during the lunch hour. It was a beautiful, cool (for Thailand) day out, so us Americans took advantage of it. This picture on Facebook now has over 100 likes and many comments because it’s so strange here to do what we’re doing! Everyone here stays out of the sun. It is a cultural trend that says if you’re dark skinned, you’re of a lower class from working in the sun many days. That’s just the tip of the iceberg though. Girls here are all on diets. They are all beautiful, but say they are dieting because muscle mass also represents a lower, working class status. We met a teacher at the local high school, and he says he has to stand by the trash can every day at lunch so that he can make sure all the girls don’t throw their entire lunches away and at least have a few bites of cucumber. Eating disorders are so prevalent here in a way that few Thais recognize it as a problem. On another note, Thais use skin bleach, color contacts, and even many get rhinoplasty in order to look more American. They want to have light skin like us, blue eyes, and noses that don’t go into the face between the eyes. It’s so sad to me, because I’ve seen so many beautiful people who have grown up learning that they aren’t beautiful just the way they are. And it breaks my heart every time I talk to them. That is just about the only thing I really dislike about the culture over in Thailand. Otherwise, they are fun-loving but quiet people who are the most helpful, caring, and sociable people I’ve gotten the honor to meet.
close your eyes. listen to this song. be alone. and let the story unfold. Tell me what you see; This was it for me.
Today after dinner, I went over to Nate, Josh, and Alex’s room. somehow we just began to listen to some music, and Josh said:
“Let’s just listen to any song, see where it takes us individually, then share when it’s complete what we saw.”
We all agreed, since that sounded pretty spectacular.
We each picked a song, and shared what visions we saw while listening to each. Mind you, we were perfectly sober.
Alex picked this song, Reckoner by Radiohead, as our last song. I had finally been able to zone out and see where the song could take me without controlling my thoughts. I couldn’t set the scene quite right, until I envisioned a girl playing hopscotch in the stars. She laughed, jumped, and rolled around in the night sky until the stars became wolves, and she was on Earth. She continued to play in her wolf family, smiling and free like any child is. But soon the wolves dissipated into smoke and she was left to find another family, another animal she could live with. Bears, snakes, and insects all didn’t work. Nothing felt like home. So she curled up in a log for sleep. Suddenly the vision panned out, and there were more logs with more kids all sleeping in them, trying to find their way. But this girl was special. She wanted more than to search. She chose to find, just then. So she awoke in the night and ran. Ran until she reached a cliff. And at this cliff, she realized she’d never thought of being a bird. At that moment, a thousand paper doves came and carried her off her feet, straight up in the wind, spinning and smiling with arms outstretched wide. She flew all the way back up to the stars, and was suddenly an old woman. She tucked herself into the starry night, turned over and was out of sight.
This was a beautiful experience, where we explored our sober conscious selves. Afterwards, we were so relaxed, and couldn’t believe there was an entire world outside. It made us all realize how little anything really matters, like the protests in BKK right now. We only have ourselves, and our mind has the ability to be more than you. At least until you explore it and discover what you have in there. I never would have thought to do this otherwise, but I hope to do this with the right people, and the right times, for the rest of my life.
Today after dinner, I went over to Nate, Josh, and Alex’s room. somehow we just began to listen to some music, and Josh said:
“Let’s just listen to any song, see where it takes us individually, then share when it’s complete what we saw.”
We all agreed, since that sounded pretty spectacular.
We each picked a song, and shared what visions we saw while listening to each. Mind you, we were perfectly sober.
Alex picked this song, Reckoner by Radiohead, as our last song. I had finally been able to zone out and see where the song could take me without controlling my thoughts. I couldn’t set the scene quite right, until I envisioned a girl playing hopscotch in the stars. She laughed, jumped, and rolled around in the night sky until the stars became wolves, and she was on Earth. She continued to play in her wolf family, smiling and free like any child is. But soon the wolves dissipated into smoke and she was left to find another family, another animal she could live with. Bears, snakes, and insects all didn’t work. Nothing felt like home. So she curled up in a log for sleep. Suddenly the vision panned out, and there were more logs with more kids all sleeping in them, trying to find their way. But this girl was special. She wanted more than to search. She chose to find, just then. So she awoke in the night and ran. Ran until she reached a cliff. And at this cliff, she realized she’d never thought of being a bird. At that moment, a thousand paper doves came and carried her off her feet, straight up in the wind, spinning and smiling with arms outstretched wide. She flew all the way back up to the stars, and was suddenly an old woman. She tucked herself into the starry night, turned over and was out of sight.
This was a beautiful experience, where we explored our sober conscious selves. Afterwards, we were so relaxed, and couldn’t believe there was an entire world outside. It made us all realize how little anything really matters, like the protests in BKK right now. We only have ourselves, and our mind has the ability to be more than you. At least until you explore it and discover what you have in there. I never would have thought to do this otherwise, but I hope to do this with the right people, and the right times, for the rest of my life.
Bein' Me
Anne doesn’t wear makeup, which is something I really love. She explained to me that she never wants to get used to wearing makeup because those who do begin to like their actual, natural self less when they look in the mirror. After she made that point, I changed the way I think. I’m trying to wear less makeup, and so far haven’t unless we’re going out to bars. Day to day, I just want to be me, and allow people to see what that is. Yes, I have bags under my eyes and my skin isn’t perfect. But that’s who I am and I’ve been living with it my whole life. And it’s not a crippling situation in the slightest. My face doesn’t need a crutch. I don’t want to waste my time on materialistic perfection. After all, perfection is fleeting anyways.
I’m going to be honest. These people here definitely aren’t my best friends. But that good. And that’s right. I definitely love them and feel like we’ve already broken through so many barriers and crossed so many boundaries that we’re on the way to something beautiful. It’s maybe even more than a friendship, since we also have all these amazing, life changing experiences to go through and remember together. We already talk about religion, relationships, and life priorities. Our level of comfort together is ridiculous. We lay on each other, repeat what each other says in weird voices, pass absolutely zero judgement, and escalate all jokes. That to me is comfort. And in my book, comfort is friendship, which will only get deeper with time. I can’t wait to explore these people, their lives, and our conversations.
Chun Gauw (Cheers)
Eden
Chun Gauw (Cheers)
Eden
On the bus the other day I had a great discussion with Rob and Josh about Buddhism and how in life, you can either choose to have faith or not. But that leaves almost no choice at all. If you want a fulfilling life in all dimensions, faith is necessary. Not necessarily the Christian faith, Buddhist faith, or any other sect or denomination, but just plain old faith. Once you really open your eyes, you believe. Because the world exists. We exist. Because everything that is, exists. What are the chances that you and I would be on this spinning globe at this same time in this vast universe? Regardless of the odds, I take it as a blessing. I may not be sure of from whom or what, but I know that living is beautiful and so are we. Clarity is what I strive for. Faith makes everything, just, pretty. And even if you don’t believe anything in particular about afterlife, you have the ability to believe in the power of now.
