Burma: A Monk and a Nurse

Burma is behind me now as I move forward in my travels, back to the dazzling future as I mosey about the sparkling modern streets of Kuala Lumpur. But the people and sights of that motley land will vividly reside within me forever.  Especially, the people. 

A crash course in current events, first, for those who aren’t savvy regarding the unjust climate that permeates the air in Burma, much like the damp mold that saturates the buildings of Yangon. Burma is run by a military government which holds an iron tight fist around the freedoms of its people. Any books deemed threatening are banned, news that doesn’t favor the govt’s ideals isn’t reported, citizens are hardly allowed to leave the country, internet usage is restricted and monitored, and hundreds of political prisoners sit in jails for the crime of speaking their minds. Government informants are everywhere, leading to a population that lives in constant fear and censorship. ‘Democratic elections’ are occasionally staged, but are merely a farce put on as an attempt to appease international pressures; they always end the same way, with the same people sitting upon seats of crushing power.

Yet, the people smile. And laugh. And love. And live. And hope…

On the outskirts of a modest village named Hsipaw, my partner and I dismount from our rented bicycles and stroll up the steps to an unassuming temple. It is the day of a new moon, and thus a minor celebration day, as the ancient traditions of their ancestors dictate. Several women dot the stone floor that circles around the bell shaped structure, eyes closed they sit in various positions of prayer and meditation. When their stillness is broken, we exchange warm smiles and eventually follow their footsteps down a winding staircase that leads to another temple enclosure below. Many had gathered in this simple room, and as we timidly entered, the sounds of devotion we could hear found the bodies that were producing them. A lean monk dwarfed by his billowing robes led a small crowd in hypnotic chanting. Once the spell was concluded, the awareness of our presence spread fast. Faces beamed at us, thrilled to have outside guests join their tight knit community. Little English was spoken in this room, but that didn’t stop anybody’s effort to connect. We ate with them. We drank tea with them. We played with their bashful children. We were honored to receive gifts from the monk… for each of us a string of prayer beads, and for each of us a copy of the Dhammapada, written in Burmese and English. We learned from this smiling congregation how to use our prayer beads, holding them in both hands and gently thumbing along each bead while chanting ‘Buddha, Dhamma, Sangha’. We sat with the Monk as he enthusiastically opened up page after page in the Dhammapada and animatedly tried to communicate his interpretations. It was hours before we managed to tear ourselves away from their enveloping warmth, and when we did, it was with a certain lightness in my step as if an unperceived weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

Photo by David Simon

On another day, in a suburb of Mandalay that sees hoards of day trippers eager to catch a glimpse of a massive and unfinished pagoda, we managed to find some space away from the tourist stalls and souvenir hawkers. A brief mention in the Lonely Planet of an infirmary for the elderly, and the nurse who runs it, piqued our curiosity and so we ambled up to the crumbling, inconspicuous buildings. It wasn’t long before our unsure wanderings were met with the heartfelt welcome of a smiling middle aged woman. We introduced ourselves, and she began to tell us about her work. This was a home for elderly people who needed care, and who had no family or home for themselves. Twenty five years ago she had begun her work there, and to this day she still runs it completely on her own. No other nurses… no doctors… only her, and the 82 +/- patients that live there.  Seven days a week she relentlessly works, struggling to care for the plethora of crucial needs that she is responsible for, because if she doesn’t nobody else will. Sleep is rare. Funds are few, and none are from her country’s government. More shocking than all of that, is the expansiveness of the smile that radiates across her face as she relays all of this information. Really… radiates. I mean, in the best of circumstances, her line of work is extremely difficult and trying both physically and emotionally. Yet, there she stood, up against a veritable mountain of adversities, with her impenetrable positivity.

Startled into awe by her spirit, I managed to ask her, “How do you keep your smile?” To this, she emitted a resounding laugh from her rounded belly, and could barely get the words out between her chuckles and chortles. In essence, she replied that whenever the tribulations loom over her in daunting towers, when she feels she might cry from the ordeals and and hardships that she faces… instead she laughs. She thinks of each trouble and laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs until her heart is light again. Then, she gets back to work.

In the midst of circumstances truly unfathomable to anyone growing up in a land of freedom, the people of Burma find strength not just to carry on, but to truly live with spirit and happiness. This indelible will calls to mind the people of another nearby country, who lived through a horrific genocide, and came out the other end still retaining softness in their smiles, and generosity in their hearts. The courage and resilience of these people is humbling beyond words. It certainly puts into perspective the comparatively minor difficulties that mange to distress me.

All in a day's travels...

When traveling to Chiang Mai, prepare yourself to be overwhelmed by the variety of activities on offer. Gibbons experience? It's there. Rock climbing and bouldering? Available. White water rafting? At your pleasure. Thai Cooking Class? Multitudes on offer. Motorbiking? The best in the country. Elephant trekking/shows/training/bathing/hanging out with? Yes to all. Zoos? Yep. Tiger Temple? Indeed. Massage? Everywhere. Jungle Treks? More than you can shake a stick at. Seriously, it's sorta ridiculous. Every third shop is some form of activity booking center, tempting you with their colorful posters of people just like you having the time of their life while doing "x".

Here's what Chiang Mai turned us into: Dave and I sitting on our hotel bed, attentively going through a stack of about seven hundred brochures outlining all of the amazing opportunities at our fingertips, as we desperately sought inspiration for the next day's plans. Predictably, trying to pick ONE option that would undoubtedly satisfy everyone's desires to have the BEST time possible made my brain hurt so hard that I threw my pile of their colorful promises into the air and all over the bed, thus acutely expressing my feelings on the matter. Of course, Dave felt exactly the same, followed my example, and we both proceeded to fall back on the comfy ease of our pillows while splaying our arms and legs across the shiny paper covered sheets, littered with crippling options. Thank you Chiang Mai, for outlining to me yet again, how unsuccessfully I sometimes react to decision making.

Now, let me pass on a bit of wisdom gained from the only real way that wisdom is gained: by making the wrong decision. If you ever have to temper your own travel interests (like, say, a 3 day trek into the jungle or a full days excursion bonding with rescued elephants) with the interests of another (like, say, a slightly older couple who hadn't really signed on for mucking about in or with the wild)... do not be tempted by certain 'samplings' of these activities in the form of a one day catch-all extravaganza. It would be understandable if you were. They seem quite alluring with their promises of being able to experience just a little taste of everything, all in one adventure filled stretch of daylight. Something for everyone, you tell yourself, (though there's a nagging question in your head, "Isn't there a reason I've never done this kind of thing before?"). "Everyone walks away happy", you assure yourself as you call up and book the tour, decidedly ignoring your underlying suspicions. At least a decision is made, you sigh with relief.

Faker.

Here's what the tour brochure promised us: seeing beautiful butterfly and orchid farms, visiting an authentic hill tribe village, rambling aboard lovely elephants, walking through atmospheric jungle, swimming in a refreshing waterfall, followed by exciting white water rafting, and finally capped of with a peaceful down river drift atop a traditional bamboo raft. What we experienced was something slightly different. First up was a small outdoor enclosure filled everywhere with the same brown butterfly (and one incredibly large and very beautiful blueish black butterfly... that was fake.) Minus two points for trickery. Next, a garden of rainbow colored orchids. Exactly what one would expect an orchid farm to be, though not exactly a highlight for any of us non-flower connoisseurs. We'll give out a few points for fulfilling expectations though.


After that, it was on to the hill tribe village. Looking forward to going there was a very bad idea, as it turned out to be the most depressing tourist attraction I have ever been to. We were directed up a path through an obviously over manicured landscape, leading up to a few stalls selling the handiwork of the traditionally garbed women who ran them. Ah, okay, we're being steered towards buying something first, I thought. While interacting with the lively young women who ran the first couple of stalls, and asking to take a few pictures, I noticed that something about their clothing seemed odd. Too colorful... too shiny... too synthetic perhaps. The word 'costumes' came to mind, and seemed to fit quite accurately. All of our suspicions seemed to be piqued and as we rounded a bend, and once able to take in the full village view, those uneasy feelings grew stronger. Dozens of these stalls awaited us. In fact, there was nothing else to the 'village'. But the worst part by far was that in front of every stall was a woman, now obviously costumed in over the top, demeaning 'traditional' cloths of her ethnic tribe, vying for our attention and our patronage. Sometimes, their young children were on display beside them, also dressed up in equally obvious get-ups. Before the gravity of the place had really settled in, my instinctive reaction was to raise up my camera... especially when first seeing the women from the long-neck tribe, with their dazzling layers of silver rings stacking vertically up from their collarbone to unnatural heights before letting their chin finally escape. Yet, as the woman's eye's met mine after I snapped my first picture, I no longer had use for my camera. Humiliation stared back at me, plain and simple. The questions came then, unabated. How many tourists had strolled through this easily accessible sight, waving their cameras around so they could have a photo of a real, live, ethnic tribeswoman? How many of them had actually contributed support to the people whose faces they'd captured? And the children... what affect did it have on them to see their mother like this, and to grow up identifying themselves as a tourist attraction?

Just before her eyes looked up at mine... and I put away my camera.

 Finding out that these ethnic minorities in Thailand have no real status officially, that they can't be treated in Thai hospitals, and that their children aren't allowed to attend Thai schools, is extremely sad. Being told that these same human beings have been promised citizenship, if they first lived in these tourist government-run villages for the sum of ten years, is doubly depressing. Some sacrifice. The four of us shuffled around uncomfortably for the next ten minutes or so, as the realization that we had unwittingly set foot into what could only be called a human zoo, wormed it's unwanted way into all of our heads. So, tour spectacular... minus several hundred points, for helping to take away people's dignity and self-respect. Feeling like a failure as a tour guide and as a human being, I silently walked back towards our transport. With her characteristic good humor and contagious smile, Shona valiantly held fast to the rainbow lining. At least their children would hopefully have better opportunities...

On to the elephants! Now, as you can imagine, with the taste of the last experience still substantially lingering in my mouth, I approached the elephant camp with extreme trepidation. Elephant tourism is something that has always given me doubts. All through Nepal and India I shied away from partaking in any activities that revolved around those wrinkly beasts, feeling that their majesty was always compromised when in human hands. After once viewing the 'tools' (weapons? torture devices?) that are used when 'training' an elephant, I've never really recovered. Having said that, there are definitely some places in Asia, and near Chiang Mai, that approach elephant tourism as humanely as possible, places that rescue domesticated elephants from situations where they are poorly treated and offer them a living environment that has their best interests at heart. Unfortunately, I don't think that we ended up at such a place. It wasn't the worst elephant treatment I've seen by any stretch of the imagination, they seemed to be mostly looked after, but it wasn't exactly inspiring either to see them chained up to concrete blocks. Even the surrounding landscape that we would be hauled across for twenty minutes, proved quite drab and underwhelming. They are beautiful creatures, no doubt, and it will always give me an incredible feeling to stare into their unending eyes. I just wish that what stared back at me didn't usually look so sad and broken at times. All in all, minus a few dozen points for not giving those awe-inspiring creatures the best treatment possible.

 It had to get better. It just had to. Leaving the elephant camp, we had about an hour's drive on rough dirt track ahead of us, before we reached the starting point of our little walk through the jungle. This proved quite entertaining, as my sometimes low tolerance of uncomfortable rides was humbly schooled by Dave's incredible mother... who, instead of having even the slightest negative reaction to being tossed and tumbled around in the back of an open-air jeep, actually smiled and squealed with delight every time we barreled over another sky-rocketing bump. Truly awesome spirit, as Tony would undoubtedly say. ;) 

Unceremoniously we suddenly stopped in the middle of nowhere, and were told to that we would now begin walking. Eager to exit the metal carcass, I jumped out into the surrounding wilderness. Unsure of what to expect at that point, I simply took in each moment as positively as I could, and that one seemed pretty good actually. We were led onto a path almost hidden by the thick of vegetation, and slowly we began to descend away from any memory of a motor vehicle. For the next 45 minutes we wandered through plant life that stretched and reached out in every direction like go-go gadget arms on steroids... upwards, outwards, downwards, inwards, away, and definitely towards. The jungle literally encroached in around us. As the air grew denser, the path seemed to get narrower and narrower. It was not that I was profusely sweating so much as it was that my pores were being squeezed of all their underlying liquids by the surrounding forces. Unidentifiable sounds swirled through my ears, until they were washed away by one sound: rushing water. We had reached the waterfall. Oh glory be to the heavens, I immediately stripped down to my bathing suit, and jumped in to the perfectly freezing waters. I was not the first in, nor the last, as all four of us could not be stopped from seeking refreshment. Those moments, splashing around in the crashing flow of nature, were purely perfect. Plus a hundred points for memories of laughter echoing off of crystal clear waters canopied by jungle life.

Is there more still, really? If your energy is waning while reading this, imagine the energy levels as we clambered back up to the jeep and bumped along for another hour, before being deposited beside a wide river valley for the very low-key activity of...white water rafting! Ha. Seriously though, other than what had then turned into an unfortunately overcast sky resulting in less than stellar temperatures for getting wet, there was a lot of fun to be had aboard our inflated rafts. And, I'll even say that when we switched air infused rubber, for strung together bamboo rods, I was no less entertained. Plus ten points for good ol' river fun.

Score sheet at the end says: it might not have been half bad, were it not for the incalculable errors made when tourist entertainment is trumped above the well-being of others.

Thank goodness that at least I had the company of fantastic people with me, making everything more manageable at every turn, and wholeheartedly escalating every enjoyable moment.

Paired Phi Phi's, and Asia-virgin eyes...

An interesting thing happens when I'm trying to tell myself to write about things that happened nearly two months ago instead of the ever-fascinating array of moments that are happening in the now... I feel a bit uninspired. For the past two weeks, since starting this blog, I find myself pulling out my ol' trusty journal and filling page after page trying to record the vast layers of colorful experiences that I have partaken in throughout Vietnam, and now into Cambodia. Yet, I struggle to churn out a few paragraphs that would contribute to the continuation of the Thailand story that I began here. Not because there is any inherent degree of 'less amazing' to attribute to those travels, but simply because they are of the past, and what's bouncing around in my head NOW is the incredibly contrasting sights of Phnom Penh, my first introduction to Khmer food, aimless wanders through this city that have uncovered a wealth of treats, and my visit today to the haunting rooms of the most notorious Khmer Rouge prison, S-21.

So, as it seems my eagerness to catch up to the present outweighs my desire to fully detail the past ... here's an attempt to summarize travels that no doubt deserve more attention than I currently feel like doling out:

•  Scuba diving is as powerfully amazing as I've always heard it described. Also, slightly nerve wracking at times... like when, say, you have been harboring a substantial conviction that a shark is going to eat you someday, and on your very first dive ever you are blessed with spotting not one, but two, swimming around and about you.
• The vibe of Koh Phi Phi Don, with all of it's temporary Thailand holiday partiers, is not really my bag.
• Yet, the Phi Phi islander's stories of Tsunami survival, (including one local whose life was saved when he was pulled from underneath collapsed wreckage--thanks to Buddha--and who then went on to open a supremely welcoming restaurant heavy with local patronage and serving up the best damn Thai Chili Paste Stir-Fry on this planet), are distinctly humbling.
• An overnight camping trip to 'The Beach' (yes, that one), on Koh Phi Phi Ley is beyond magical, offering up memories I will always cherish.

...This island is uninhabited save for the national park workers that look after it, but every morning and afternoon 100's of beach (Beach?) enthusiasts make day trips out there to stake out a small patch of sand amidst the teeming crowds. No doubt the draw of this island's raw beauty is enticing, but the circus of followers would put me off of it in a heartbeat, were it not for the surprisingly unsought out option of an overnight trip there. Less than 40 souls skipped about the expanse of this island's sparkling surfaces for the 15+ hours that I spent there, lending it exactly the kind of deserted feel that I wanted it to have.

•  Railay beach is divinely chill, displaying more dreadlocks, rasta beach bars, hippie inspired designs, and artistically infused decor-creations, than anywhere else I saw in Thailand. An unfortunate time crunch allowing for only one night there, left me wanting so much more. 

A pause in the bullet-pointing is necessary, as I must explain that from Railay beach Dave and I journeyed up to Bangkok in order to pick up his admirably adventurous, and absolutely lovely, parents from Suvarnabhumi Airport. Now, maybe in some circles it would be considered rather odd that after only a handful of months dating Dave and I were enthusiastically jumping into a two week, non-stop, meet-the-parents extravaganza. But, when you consider that after only a day of knowing each other we embarked on a week and a half long trek through Mongolian countryside together, and with less than two weeks of existence in each others worlds we set off on a course through China that ended with him on my doorstep in Seoul, effectively moving in for the better part of a month... well, it's not so odd then.

Tony and Shona Simon are, self-admittedly, not of the seasoned traveler variety. Yet as their son began eking out an unknown route through unknown lands month after month, inspiration struck and travel plans began emerging. From the moment my path found itself suddenly intertwined with theirs, as we exchanged flurried hellos amidst airport tile traffic, I could sense their eager bravado, absolutely endearing them to me immediately. As we began navigating the streets of Bangkok together, I quickly discovered much more to love about their presence. See, there's a certain amount of travel awe-luster I manage to lose sight of at times, after traipsing through more and more cultural landscapes that are so different to my own. My first day in Asia? Unabashedly awestruck. After almost 3 years in Asia? Decidedly less so. Yet the surroundings are no less deserving of awe. The Asia-virgin eyes that paralleled my gaze for the next two weeks reminded me in the most welcoming of ways, just how rich in sensations this part of the world can be.

 Right! Focus, Laura. This blog is meant to engulf the rest of my time in Thailand, and I'm still only 2 out of 6 weeks in. So, back to my increasingly failing attempts at brevity...

I made it!

Within 24 hours, the fearless foursome quickly jumped aboard an overnight train to a place called Chiang Mai in the Northern reaches of Thailand's jungles. Chiang Mai is: 1. Bigger than I expected. 2. Even more of a tourist hot-pot than I expected, (I knew it was of course a popular destination... but wowzers.) 3. Home to some seriously delicious restaurants. 4. The perfect place to wander in any random direction and unknowingly happen upon serenely picturesque temples, complete with the sun colored robes of monks scampering about. 5. A fantastic place to partake in a cooking class, which left Dave's mom and I with a veritable wealth of knowledge to call upon when trying to recreate the mouth-watering flavors of the Thai Kingdom...and, 6. The location of a somewhat poor decision regarding our travel activities.

Hmmm. Kinda tired now. Alas, for more on week 3-6's adventures and misadventures in Thailand, I guess I'm just going to have to write another blog. Damn. Except, not really, cause once I got going I realized I rather enjoyed pulling out those too-quickly-fading memories and making them live and dance before me again.

A beginning, of sorts...

This website right here, this is "Laura's First Travel Blog". This picture, is me.

Hi   :)

Though I've constantly kept a travel journal with me over the past few years, and managed to fill up several books with my 'thoughts while on the road', blogging is quite a foreign concept to me. Similar to those journal writings, those of you who know me well have probably received a lengthy email or two throughout the years, as I attempt to detail and sum up all of my recent experiences while traveling in foreign lands, in order to stay connected to you. In some ways, this blog might be a combination of those two things... a way to write about my personal thoughts and experiences in a way that allows the people in my life to tune in, whenever they feel like it. Should anyone else ever tune in, well hopefully I can keep them entertained as well.

My greatest fear in writing a blog is to be misconstrued, or to come off as sounding far too self-important. For that reason, there are a few things that must be said before anything else is said. Disclaimers, I suppose.

No matter what I write in this blog; no matter how I feel about a place, an experience, an interaction, a culture, or a meal; no matter how strongly I feel that way, I am never presuming to try and tell anyone what something IS. Subjectivity will reign supreme throughout, and behind every one of my statements is the unwavering knowledge that the opposite statement can be equally true and equally valid... in another person's blog perhaps. Not only is everything I experience being filtered through my own perspectives and beliefs, (even when I'm trying hard to quiet those), but I'm also fully aware that for every experience of mine that left a certain impression, there are uncountable other people who have came away with an entirely different impression. Different days, different moods, different interactions, different weather, and a hundred other variables... all these things color our intake of every situation. These are my intakes. 

Also, I travel in a particular manner. I prefer some kinds of experiences over others. I often gain greater fulfillment from more challenging, authentic, off-the-beaten track routes, while I am often left wanting, and uninspired by typical, touristy places and activities. Tour groups and tour packages are almost never my friends.This is not to say that those kinds of travel don't have their place in the world, it is simply to say that they do not have a place in my heart. My own finances dictate a large part of my travel style, but it goes beyond that as well.

For example: I sometimes prefer to stay in cheap backpacker digs, instead of opting for more comfortable and convenient hotels, even when the price is only a small difference. YET, the dichotomy of my psyche is that that does not mean I don't enjoy hotels. Quite the opposite actually! Of course it's cozy to have a looked after, spacious room, a bed that's made every day, a/c in hot climates, hot water in cold climates, privacy, and perhaps a bit of insulation from the sometimes chaotic environments I find myself in. I've stayed in those places, and by no means did I just tolerate it... I quite LIKED it. However, I've noticed a price that is paid beyond the room rate. When I have a cozy hotel room, I am less likely to spend most of my time away from it (cause it's just so nice in there isn't it?), but when my room is a simple bed within four walls, I am far more likely to only sleep in it (there's always somewhere more interesting to be than a dingy, simplistic, or borderline uncomfortable, room).

On top of that, there's the matter of the people one meets. In the budget, backpacker guesthouse I am far more likely to meet independent travelers who can offer tips, stories, and information about independent traveling. In pricier hotels, I am more likely to meet travelers who book tour packages, and will recommend agencies, guides, and drivers who will 'take care of all of the organizing', whilst many times allowing me only glimpses of the most common, pre-approved, 'sights'. Each to their own. Even though it sometimes goes against my very natural desires for comfort and ease, I choose to inconvenience myself and hope for the reward that that can bring. Many times I pay the price for that choice too, and only end up frustrating myself, achieving none of the 'pay-off' that I hoped for when I chose the more difficult route. Choices have to be made though, consequences weighed out... and more often than not, I'll choose to take my chances on the cheaper, more challenging options.


Allow me yet one more disclaimer. Though I have just rhapsodized about how I fancy myself an independent traveler, seeking 'off the beaten path' opportunities, that is NOT to say that I am by any means a gold-star member of that club. I am constantly aware of (and sorta jealous of) the plethora of travelers out there, who could easily run circles around my travel experiences. In a world that is becoming more accessible by the minute, finding untraveled areas is practically impossible, and it is not my be-all/end-all intention to be the only traveler in every destination. I just want to travel everywhere and experience everything I can! If that means covering the 'tourist trail' at times, (which has become popular for a reason), I have no shame about doing that. And, damnit, the Lonely Planet is helpful to me. Perhaps I many times end up traveling the more beaten, off the beaten, path. I'm very aware of, and perfectly okay with that.

Alright folks, I think I'm done trying to explain myself, and ready to begin explaining my travels instead. With an entire, lengthy, posting about my intentions and my hopes for how my words will be read... I must now leave the rest of your perceptions up to yourself and simply write what I want to write. In the words of Anthony Burgess, "Eat this sweetish segment or spit it out. You are free."