The Hardest Thing...

This blog is about my travels. About what it's like for me to live and travel in new countries far away from my home. Until now, I've basically written about what surrounds me, and how those surroundings affect me.

But, there's a whole other aspect of traveling and living abroad that I haven't even touched on. And it's far and away the hardest thing about traveling. It's a million times more difficult than beating the sweltering heat in Phnom Penh, it's more difficult than language barriers in Korea, more difficult than 20 hour bus rides in India, living out of a van for four months in New Zealand, and far more difficult than dragging my ass up a 5000 meter mountain pass in Nepal. The absolute hardest thing about traveling is:  being away from those you love. Especially being FAR away. So far that when something happens, something that tears apart the heart of someone you love madly... you have to live with knowing that you can't be there to help.

For those who don't want to read a blog that's going to stop being fun for awhile, and dig deeper into some harsh realities instead... stop now. It was never my intention to write about anything personal here, but I can not pretend that traveling is only about amazing adventures, new cultures, and everlasting memories. Because while I'm on the other side of the planet collecting those memories, back home where my family and so many friends reside, life keeps happening there too. Memories keep being made there, memories that I'm not a part of. And it's not just the tragedies that make me yearn to be closer. There's promotions, birthdays, weddings, births, graduations, and all the other little celebrations, achievements and turning points in life. I miss practically all of them. I can only celebrate with my family and friends in the most important moments of their lives, over Skype. On top of that, there's the hard stuff. Like two months ago, with the passing away of a grandparent, my Grandma Hamm. Even if I'd decided to spend the $1500+ that it would have cost to fly home on short notice, I still wouldn't have made it back in time for the funeral. Cause I'm that far away.

Then this week happens, and it rocks the very core of my being. Last Saturday night, I spent over an hour catching up with my family. Both of my sisters were at home in Kenosha, and my little niece Mckailynn was still awake way past her bedtime. My mom and Stepdad were there, and Mckailynn's father Steve even popped in for a bit while we were all on Skype. I got off the phone thinking I was practically as good as home. That night, Steve tucked Mckailynn into bed, and rubbed my sister' sore back before he left. All was well. But by the next morning, everything had changed forever. By the next morning, my littlest sister's reality had been sliced into bits. Around 2am Steve got into a motorcyle accident, and she had spent dawn's hours holding Steve's hand in a hospital bed, until his injuries overtook him and he died. Her five year roller coaster relationship with the one man that she'd given her whole heart to, was stamped out in the blink of an eye. To see my baby sister uncontrollably sobbing, unimaginably grieving over such a shocking and horrific loss... and to not even be able to offer her a HUG? Is this really the situation I've chosen to put myself in?

While my whole family is struggling to cope with this unbelievable tragedy, I move about the streets of Phnom Penh, blurry eyed and watching the still unfamiliar sights of this world that's so removed from the one that I come from... and I can't help but wonder about the choices I've made. What am I doing here? Why aren't I there? Why is my home a million miles away instead of just around the corner? Why can't I just be that person who settles down in a nice home in the Midwest, finds contentment in her life there, and is always nearby when something important happens?

A nagging voice inside of me thinks it has the answer. I've been cursing this voice all week, cursing the nuggets of truth it contains, but still it continues...

Yes, I'd love nothing more than to be present for every single one of life's joys and sorrows that the people I love go through... but what would happen the vast majority of the time, when no landmark moments are happening? When everyone is just going about living their life, finding their way and creating their happiness? My way, and my happiness have been inextricably linked with travel and new adventures for so long. When distant shores start calling me, and the global life that's shown me neverending possibilities and given me a constant well of personal fulfillment whispers in my ear... how would I justify my choice to turn away from all of that?

I want my cake, and I want to eat it too. I know that I can't simply abandon the life that I want for myself, in order to be present whenever something big happens in other people's lives. For that reason, even when it's a struggle, I continue to make my peace with missing out on so many of those moments. But this time... there is no peace. Not being able to be home right now is killing me. It's just, quite simply, not right. There has to be a middle ground. And I am determined to find it...

i love you little sis...

Couch + Surfing =

As my time in Phnom Penh winds down (5 days and counting), I find myself thinking about all the reasons why I've loved spending the last few months in this one of a kind city. A vast list begins to pile up, that I will hopefully be able to focus on in another blog. But, for now, I just want to talk about one. Diving into this particular adventure had been lurking at the back of mind for quite some time, but when I finally did, the results were even more incredible than I'd imagined.

You've most likely relaxed on a couch before. Perhaps you've had dinner on a couch. I'm sure you've been involved in lifting a couch at least once. Probably, you've cleaned your couch. No doubt you've slept on a couch. Maybe you've even jumped on a couch. But have you ever surfed a couch??? For myself, I'd only had two personal experiences with this verb being applied to living room furniture. Once I surfed another's couch in Korea, and once my own couch was surfed. I had merely dabbled in the vast world of couch surfing. Finally, here in Phnom Penh, circumstances aligned. We had a welcoming home, boasting a great location, in a city that attracts hoards of backpackers, and we had a whole extra bedroom. Shortly after our bags were unpacked, I updated my dusty couchsurfing profile and tried to make it sparkle. Happily, it didn't take long for the couch requests to start flooding in.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with couchsurfing, let me explain. It's a global network of travelers who create profiles and connect with other traveler type folks. These connections are often made in the form of a traveling person requesting to sleep on the 'couch' of a currently stationary person. It's basically a "Hey, how's it going. Nice to meet you. Here let me help you with your bag. Great, well this is your bed in my house for the next few days. Here's an extra set of keys. Let me tell about this place that I live in..." kinda thing. As well as so much more. Millions of people have hosted or surfed with perfect strangers in faraway lands, and the experiences have been overwhelmingly positive. Kinda cool, huh?

My own interest in couchsurfing arose out of a desire to share with others some of the random and amazing hospitality that I've received over my years on the road. Growing up in the states, I have to admit I hadn't really experienced that sort of blanket generosity, and such unquestionable trust and open friendliness truly humbled me and left me in awe. I wanted to share in that beautiful simplicity of people being good and helpful to other people, even though they were strangers, and without asking for anything in return.

Abraham and Ilana

It was on a random day back in May, that a stranger named Brandon arrived at our door, after pre-arranging his stay. Awkwardly, our rookie hosting skills welcomed him in and showed him around. It didn't take long before we were sitting in our living room together, avidly listening while he told his fascinating story of being arrested in Laos for smoking weed. A week later, Asha entered our apartment with her brother Ken, and with her contagiously bright smile and vivacious spirit. An atypical young Korean woman, who feels more at home in the mountains of India than on the shopping streets of Seoul, one couldn't help but be infected by her enthusiasm for life. The next week it was Shannon and Ben who graced our doorstep. He told fascinating stories of being an army lawyer in Seoul, while she recounted a truly hilarious tale of partaking in an actual shake weight competition in Yeoido. Abraham and Ilana fed our curiosities about their African homes, and proved to be genuinely great people to kick back and swap ridiculous and profound travel stories with. Gavin moved in for a few days straight after that, jumping right into the story of how he'd fallen in love with a girl from Indonesia, almost married her, and the heartbreak that followed. Another week passed, and then it was Massimiliano's turn to crash in our spare room, while he pumped us full of so much information on traveling & living in South/Cental America we might just be experts now! Not to mention that divine Italian meal he made for us as well. Sasti and her friend Sofie only passed through briefly, but she made quite an impression when she helped us mop up the aftereffects of our washing machine flooding our whole apartment! Last but definitely not least, Craig and Amy stayed with us for the better part of a week, filling our rooms with their good vibes and easy smiles.

Craig and Amy

Though nothing is asked in return, we have unexpectedly received a mountain of rewards, (as seems to be the case with so many things when they are freely given). Dave and I have hardly left the city limits of Phnom Penh over the last 10 weeks, but 5 different continents have come to us. Over a dozen people from 9 separate countries have passed through our spare bedroom. It has been a truly incredible way of keeping my lust for travel alive, while also enjoying the comforts of a stationary home. Every new person that walks in with a big smile on their face, brings with them fascinating stories, unique experiences, fresh perspectives, and a healthily adventurous spirit. What an amazing gift to have that energy constantly walking into your house! It's inspiring, and it keeps both Dave and I on our toes, ensuring that we never fall into any kind of hum-drum-every-day-is-the-same routine.

Thank you to the friendly, inspiring, hilarious, interesting, helpful, energetic, informative, open-minded, creative and positive couch surfers who have given us the privilege of hosting them for a wee while in our humble home:

• Brandon, from the USA.
• Asha and her brother Ken, from South Korea.
• Shannon and Ben, US expats living in S. Korea
• Abraham and Ilana, from South Africa and Namibia
• Gavin, from Ireland
• Massimiliano, from Italy
• Sasti and Sofie, from Indonesia
• Craig and Amy, from New Zealand and the UK 

Time to go do some surfing of our own now!

♫ Here's a story, of a man named Ed ♫

A few days ago I finished my last private English lesson here in Phnom Penh. It was actually sad saying goodbye to Tainglim and Rosa, whom I've been tutoring for the past six weeks.

I came by the position in a somewhat strange manner. After responding to a forum post, seeking an English tutor, I was contacted by an immigrations lawyer here in Phnom Penh named Wayne. He had a client that was engaged to a Khmer woman... she couldn't speak much English, and he spoke no Khmer. Could I teach her some English, Wayne wanted to know. Red flags immediately went up. An American man wants to marry a Khmer woman, although they can hardly speak to each other? Hmmm. In this part of the world such a recipe usually calls for an aging man who is for some reason(s) unappealing to western ladies, and a pretty little young SE Asian woman who is most likely quite poor, with visions of American glitz and glamour in her eyes.

Now, I happen to believe that everyone is entitled to their own little slice of happiness, whatever that slice might look like, so long as it doesn't infringe upon someone else's right to a slice. But, I also gotta be honest... partnerships like those have usually left me feeling a bit skeevy.

Feeling hesitant about helping to usher along such a union, I tepidly agreed to a meeting, and hoped that I could better asses the situation face to face. Here's the cast of characters at that meeting:

• Wayne: The lawyer. An American who's been living in Cambodia for over 10 years. Mid-forties, stocky, tan, with sandy blonde hair, and a booming lawyer voice that rarely stopped expounding overly self-assured statements. (Please, tell me more about how I should teach English.)

• Ed: The Groom. An older American man, whose motives were under surveilance. Early fifties, thinning dark brown hair, and a tall build. His voice was friendly and his smile was genuine. (Noted.)

• Tainglim: The Bride.  A Khmer woman, looking to be in her mid to late thirties. Dark hair tied back, timidly smiling eyes, and the typical small build of these parts, clothed in a polished and classy white blouse/black skirt combo.

• Yours truly: The Teacher. Balancing an act of trying to sell myself to potential employers, whilst sussing out the intentions of such employers.

• A Khmer assistant of Wayne's whose name I didn't catch, serving as the translator for Tainglim.

As the meeting progressed, I learned this couple's story. Ed was previously married, for over 30 years, when tragedy struck. His wife suffered a brain aneurism, and unexpectedly died. Suddenly single and at a loss as to how to be alone, he struggled without a partner. Much to his surprise, the woman who cut his hair offered an idea. "You should meet my cousin. She live Cambodia. Very sad because of no husband" she stated. With little more than that Ed and Tainglim were introduced over Skype, while the hairdresser translated. As their interest grew, he tried to learn Khmer, but due to an injury in his brain a few years back, retaining new language was nearly impossible for him. She avidly studied to improve her English. Within a few months, this man who'd barely set foot out of the US before, was on a plane to Cambodia. Tainglim was still living in a rural province at the time, in her family's home, (a place that I can only imagine redefined 'rustic' to Ed's unworldly eyes). He stayed in Cambodia for two months, went back to the states, and when I met him he was into his second month of his second visit here, eagerly working towards his goal of bringing Tainglim and her 10 year old daughter back to California with him.

At the meeting, the two of them sat before me, smiling and convincingly affectionate. Was it a show? Did they love each other? Or, was it simply a mutually beneficial arrangement... wherein he would receive an affectionate partner to grow old with, and she would receive a new life full of adventure as well as a plethora of opportunities for her bright young daughter? The more I watched them, trying to figure out my own thoughts, the more I realized it didn't really matter. Based on my instincts, there seemed to be absolutely nothing untoward going on. Beyond that, it dawned on me that it simply wasn't my place to judge whatever the foundation of their relationship might be.

Terms were set for the lessons I'd be giving, and the meeting was adjourned. Over the next few weeks I taught Tainglim and Rosa simultaneously, while Ed actively watched and helped wherever possible. Tainglim's English was painfully low, and Rosa's wasn't much better. Pretty much all communication was a major struggle in the first few lessons, but eventually we found our stride.

Ed left to go back to the states again two weeks ago. Tainglim seemed quite sad that he'd left, and they talked over the phone 4-5 times a day. (Several times he called during our lessons.) They both know that the statistical chances for her American Visa being approved are about 50%... at best. Photographs were taken during some of our lessons, every agreement was documented, and I was asked to write a letter declaring my experience of knowing them. All these will be submitted to the Embassy along with a mountain of other 'proof' that they're in a committed relationship. She is desperately trying to learn English at breakneck speed (in addition to her lessons with me she is also attending an English class here about 20 hours a week). All so that when she is called upon to interview at the Embassy, they won't question her union with Ed based on a lack of communication abilities.

Most likely, the higher ups that work for the powers that be at the American Embassy... will find reasons to question Ed and Tainglim's relationship. With their magic red stamp, they wield a mighty power: complete control over the lives of these three people, permanently and irrevocably.

Given a cursory glance, their story is quite similar to many others in this region. More and more, Asian women are being sought out as a 'sure thing' for Western men looking for a partner. Are there negative repercussions to this trend? Absolutely. Daughters are being separated from their mothers and their entire culture, which no doubt has a lasting impact. Additionally, Cambodian bachelors are unfairly forced to compete with Western men offering the sun and stars. But, hey, since when is all fair in love and war? To me, when you look at one of these stories up close and personal, it's painfully obvious how human and understandable their wants and needs are. It's funny how relationships like these are often referred to as a 'marriage of convenience'. From first hand knowledge, let me tell you, there is nothing convenient about the process that Tainglim and Ed are going through.

Personally, I'd like to wish a heartfelt 'good luck' to Ed, Tainglim, and Rosa... no doubt you're going to need it in order to claim your slice of the happiness pie.

I get around.

In this part of the world, getting from A to B is rarely as straightforward as it seems. The simple attempt to transport myself within Cambodia has included everything from being chauffeured by a tuk-tuk fit for a hero, to breaking the sound barrier in a death defying car journey, to lazy bicycling around remote river islands. The only rule seems to be: No matter what I've experienced before, there's just no way of ever knowing what I'm getting into, the next time I decide to journey outside my temporary home.

Our first major journey here was so shockingly smooth and comfortable, I was ready to vote Cambodian bus services among the best in SE Asia. Course, this was to be immediately followed by a patience testing experience, where the bus tickets we'd purchased bought us nothing more than an hour long wait at a roadside pitstop, as we watched the proprietor futilely attempt to wave down the unfazed buses that whizzed past. A world weathered man eventually pulled up in an even more weathered car, and a realization slowly crept in, that this was meant to be our best hope of getting into a vehicle anytime soon. Not without a healthy dose of hesitation, Dave and I clambered into the backseat... only to realize that there were no backs to the seats. The upholstery fabric still hung, limp and frayed, but all form and structure of what the fabric was supposed to cover had disappeared at some unknown time in the car's very distant past. Great, I thought, so much for being able to sit back and relax at all during this 5 hour journey. That was before we shut the doors, and the driving began. Relaxation turned out to be the last thing on our minds. Race track speeds around narrow turns and stomach flipping swerves through unpredictable traffic quickly sent me into a prone position, trying to calm the uprising tides in my gut. Meanwhile, Dave sat rigid and riveted, every muscle tensed to prepare for the seemingly inevitable collision. Thus we remained for the next 3 1/2 hours, when we arrived at our destination far ahead of schedule... far ahead of what should have been possible... unbelievably with all limbs still attached.

A few days later, it was to be a luxury tuk-tuk Batmobile that provided our motorized mobility. (Yes, everything about what you just read is right.) For the 4 days that we explored this regions most prized ancient structures--the Temples of Angkor-- we shuffled between each of those jaw-dropping marvels of lost civilization, in indisputable style. Zooming past the ragtag numbers of normal putt-putting tuk-tuks, we belted out the Batman theme, knowing it would quickly became a distant hum in their ears as they ate our superhero dust.

Da na Na na na na Na na na na Na na na na Na na na na.... BATMAN!!!

After such chest inflating panache, we dialed it down a notch, and hired wiggly wobbly old bicycles to explore the Mekong River island of Koh Paen. Just getting there was half the fun. Every year they rebuild the bridge, because every rainy season it would be washed away if they didn't deconstruct it first. The material of choice for the entire bridge? Bamboo.
From a distance, it looks more like a pile of matchsticks that a strong wind might disrupt. Yet, even cars can clamber across this temporarily constructed gangway of thin hollow rods. Indeed, up close and underpedal, it proved to be remarkably strong...and crunchy... and sorta like pedaling through sand. Once on the other side, our slowed down pace lent itself perfectly to the slowed down way of life that was on display everywhere. Not for the first time in this part of the world, I was struck by how lucky I felt to truly see and experience so much of these people's daily lives. Wandering around Europe, New Zealand, certainly America, and even Korea, one is always left to guess what a day might look like for any individual. The modern world likes its fences. And tinted windows. And doors closed tightly, with locks secured. The modern world considers privacy an assumed and desired right, instead of a privilege, or even an unsocial snub at the community around you. On Koh Paen, life is public and shared. Open windows and doors (if they existed at all), seemed to breed open smiles, and everywhere we pedaled those warm smiles greeted us.

So much constant motion sometimes deserves a break. And break we did. The first month in Phnom Penh, we boarded no buses, rented no bikes, and undertook no journey more adventurous than an average tuk tuk lift across town. Then, our sense of adventure returned. Though drivers in Phnom Penh defy logic, follow almost no rules, and collide on a regular basis... still we decided, 'What the hell? Let's get a motorbike!' As well as two helmets. (I mean, c'mon, a sense of adventure does not negate a sense of wanting to survive said adventure.) Harrowing is definitely a term I would apply to navigating these streets, and I never even navigated them! I quickly realized I would be much happier relying on Dave's very capable motorbiking skills, and intermittently clutching tightly to his waist as collisions were narrowly avoided. Unexpectedly, our motorbiking days were ended prematurely, though not because of the knuckle whitening traffic, but because of the anger inducing Phnom Penh police force. We were pulled over three times in two weeks. Our western skins made us blatant targets and apparently meant that it didn't matter whether we were actually following the rules that nobody else follows. Twice we were bullied into paying exorbitant bribes far beyond even the expected levels of corruption in this part of the world. Blood pumping, fists clenched, and voices barely controlling our pissed off frustrations, we thought it best to avoid another such instance. The next one might very well have broken our precariously controlled temper, and ended up with one or both of us rotting in a Cambodian prison!!

irony.

Getting around in Cambodia serves as a constant reminder that the journey is at least half of the adventure. In hindsight, all these experiences also provide another lesson for me: realizing again that my expectations so often serve only as a roadblock, leaving me blocked into a place of annoyance and frustration, while barricading me from moving into a place where I could simply relish in the pure experience of it all. Whatever doesn't kill me.............. right? :)

Well, now that you've made it to the end, it's time for another rousing game of NAME THAT FRUIT! The winner from my last blog was Shona Simon, who correctly identified the hairy red & green fruits as: Rambutan. They're similar to - but not to be confused with! - lychees, and they're quite delicious. This week I'm upping the challenge, and including two exotic Asian fruits. Can you name both of them?

a taste of phnom penh

8:30am: i wake up...slowly. too much movement only worsens the film of sweat that has accumulated since the sun began to make it's presence known. stumbling on to my half asleep limbs, the very first order of business is opening the balcony and the back doors of our apartment, in order to take advantage of any possible breeze that might waft through. these days it's not uncommon for it to be over 90 degrees before 9am, with humidity levels above 70%. fast forward to 1pm, and well... yeah. (oh rainy season, where art thou???)

eventually hunger takes over the desire to do nothing, and breakfast is approached. everyday it's the same deliciously simple combination of fruit, muesli, and yogurt. with combinations of up to five different fruits at a time perched in our fridge and awaiting my morning taste buds, this is a meal to look forward to. did i mention it's mango season? and with a ridiculous price tag of 3/dollar, those sweet receptacles of heavenly nectar are never absent from my breakfast bowl.

hey! speaking of fruit, how about a game? i'll post a picture of a fruit (or vegetable) not commonly found in the west. the top prize, (my unending admiration and respect), will be awarded to the reader that can correctly identify it first. we'll start out with a relatively easy one:

name that fruit!

after breakfast, any number of activities begin to fill my day, one of which will typically be a small trip to the outdoor market that sits a 1/2 block away...

(the blue arrow is roughly where our apartment is located)

this incredibly lively smattering of stalls, sellers, smells, and smiles is cambodia's version of walmart, with just about everything one could possibly need, for sale under 'one' roof.  it's our local one-stop-shop for:

• fruit/veg (ie: a heaping bag of tomatoes, zucchini, carrot, limes, cilantro, & pineapple... for $3)
• every kind of household item (ie: a box full of new kitchenware, for $5)
• rejuvenating ice coffees (50 cents)
• fresh free range eggs (10/dollar)

...in addition to a random list of who-knows-what-else, that might make it onto our list for the day. unlike other parts of the world, where having to shop for food so often becomes a mundane 'chore'... here, this routine activity remains an unpredictable adventure to look forward to. at the very least, it never fails to be a poignant reminder of exactly where i am... and where i'm not.

delving full force into this local market requires no small amount of resolve. the smells attack and overwhelm. mystery items commonly end up in my shopping bag. the piles of freshly caught, wriggling river fish are not unknown to wriggle themselves right off their trays and onto your feet. flies swarm wherever heaping slabs of meat or the sweet juices of produce abound. stares sometimes follow me. beggars with gray hair or pig-tailed hair often approach me. and the corrugated tin sheets that roof the maze of lanes underneath act as a highly effective heat trap, raising the already sweltering temperatures to almost unbearable heights.

i absolutely love it.

the unplanned life

I know I'm supposed to be finishing my tales of travel in Thailand, then moving on to Vietnam, and then talking about the month I spent traveling around Cambodia... but I don't feel like doing that, so I'm going to write about now instead. And, I guess I'm supposed to be traveling through Laos at this point, seeing as how that was next on the list after spending some time in Cambodia... but neither Dave nor I felt like doing that just yet either, so instead we rented an apartment in Phnom Penh. Expectations: fail. Whoops! :)

So, yes, right now I am writing this blog from within the walls of my two bedroom apartment in the capital city of Cambodia. (Which means there's an extra bedroom for all visitors!) If you had told me, even just three months ago, that I would be a rent paying citizen in this city, I wouldn't have believed it. That, my friends, is why I know I am incapable of making or following a long term (5 year?!?) plan... because I can't even stick to the plans that I'd laid out for the next few months. This transient lifestyle of mine fits hand in hand with a spontaneous lifestyle, working best when all feasible options are essentially possible at any given moment. Which is one of the reasons why, contrary to some notions, it can actually become wearisome at times. Every day a mountain of possibilities has to be narrowed down into what I actually decide to do. Sounds great in theory, especially when the options include sunset boat trips on the Mekong surrounded by dozens of endangered river dolphins. Yet, when every day is filled with a fresh and unending pile of choices that have to be made, and absolutely nothing is a given (not even where you will sleep or get your next meal), the constant tasks of entertaining myself, feeding myself, transporting myself... always within the surroundings of a place I've never been in before, can be quite daunting. Then there's Dave, who'd been at it for ten months straight, so it's no wonder he was getting a bit worn out.

Of course, even once 'taking a break' had been decided upon, the relentless narrowing down of all feasible options was not remotely complete. Eventually though, after a week of thoroughly considering several different countries, we decided on the obvious path of least resistance that lay in front of us. From day one, we loved Cambodia. Phnom Penh is a vibrant city. We were getting to know some great people here. Also, quite importantly, we knew that this place offered us the ability to really sink our teeth into the current goals and inspirations that were swirling around in our heads.

A funny thing happens when I'm traveling about and all my time is to some degree 'free'. Interests, new hobbies, creative ideas, topics to research, goals to accomplish... all begin to pile up at an alarming rate. More than a journey through geographic places, traveling becomes a journey through all the possibilities of things I want to do with myself. Last year in India I devoted several weeks to a Yoga Ashram, as that was something that I'd always to delve more deeply into. Then I volunteered within a community where I began to learn a long desired skill of growing food, not to mention gaining useful instruction on medicinal herbs. While there, I finally began to work towards other long intended goals of learning to play the guitar, and practicing poi. For some reason, in the day to day grind of working a full-time job, so many of my best laid intentions never manifest, leaving the dozen different ideas that are always bouncing around in my head unexplored. But when I leave the world of employment temporarily behind, and instead head out on a constantly evolving path, my life begins to revolve around these explorations. As constant motion while traveling becomes too tiring, so too the goals and inspirations growing inside me become too enticing, leading me to want to settle down for a minute or two and get busy!

Hence, I've finally gotten around to writing this blog entry that's been a long time coming. Expect them to come a bit more frequently in the weeks to come. Or..... don't. Cause it's still me we're talking about here!

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.