Burma: First Impressions

Those who have traveled throughout the dusty roads and sleepy river towns of Burma, almost unanimously agree: although impressive and intriguing sights are not hard to find, it is the people of this country that truly make it a standout destination. I am not here to disagree with this tried and true wisdom. In-depth conversations with interesting and inspiring characters have graced my ears as I’ve meandered through this controversial and cut off country, but first impressions were solely focused on my eyes’ intake.

Local men, showing that men can wear skirts too!

The only way to travel in Burma is to fly in to its capital city – Yangon (Rangoon) – as all the land borders are closed off by the military government. Without the option of a gradual journey, I was plopped straight into the hub of this mysterious country. As soon as I placed my flip flopped feet upon the ground of this next ‘new’ country, the people were indisputably the focus of my wandering eyes. Immediately apparent, the traditional fashions of this country ate up my preliminary glances. Men and women alike are almost unilaterally clad in longi's: a large tube of fabric that is wrapped around the waist, twisted into a knot at the front for men, and pulled and tucked to the side for women. The other obvious trend here is the application of a thick paste made from tree bark, (called thanakha), on the faces of women and children. Described as ‘sunscreen’, but used more as decorative face paint, I was completely enthralled with the creative splotches and designs that adorned the faces around me. These strange and unique fashions were a welcome change to the western mimicry so often on display throughout SE Asia.

A line of women wearing longi's as they tidy the grounds around Shwedagon Pagoda

Women selling, and wearing, thanakha

It’s sad to say, but the people that occupy these far-away corners of the world, rarely wind up dressing strikingly different than people I know back home. Sure, different T-shirt designs might be popular, but so few places in this part of the world actually display a pervasive sense of their own traditional clothing or beauty trends. (The sari’s of India being another exception, and an equally enrapturing sight.) How much longer this tree bark paste will last as the preferred cosmetic in Burma is hard to say. Already, whitening creams are on display everywhere, ‘NIVEA’ ads seem to dot the entire landscape, and Burmese entertainment depicts its most ‘beautiful’ protagonists as carbon copies of Western ideals, while relegating the tree bark paste to comical, lower-class characters. What a shame that in this world, one culture has such a dominant impact over every other. To my eyes, a copper skinned Burmese women clad in her own colorful longi, proudly showcasing a face expertly decorated with cream colored paste, is unarguably far more beautiful than her country’s cookie-cutter pop-stars.

Next impressions to ponder over revolved around the incredible variety of faces that smiled at me. Something I never realized before became very obvious: Burma is a melting pot of Asian races! Over two hundred ethnic lines can be spotted within Burmese borders. This diversity is nowhere else as apparent as along the streets of Yangon. If I had entered Burma on a direct flight from America, perhaps the array of features would not have been so immediately striking. Their eyes are all brown, after all, and their hair is unerringly dark. However, after wandering through Asia for several years and sometimes experiencing a much smaller range of features, Burma seemed to be a turn of the century Ellis Island mixture of attributes. Almond eyes, oval eyes, narrow eyes, wide-set eyes, high-browed eyes, deep-set eyes… all stared back at me, most with the gleam of a smile lighting up their irises. 

Wandering along the bustling cargo docks of Yangon’s riverfront, crowds of these wide eyed stares and eager grins followed us as we carved our way through the flurry of activity. Women sellers claimed minuscule squares of the narrow pavement, displaying betel chew, noodles, pots of oily curries, cigarettes, drinks, fish, and any other popular products. Processions of shirtless and tattooed men, hoisting heavy packages of goods on their muscular shoulders, snaked their way from boat to truck, or from truck to boat. Benches dripped with groups of men whose cheeks bulged with the blood red betel chew crammed into their mouths. Small children darted in and around the teeming paths, alternately smiling in excitement or crying in fear as their eyes alighted upon the strangely pale foreigners. People shouted, horns blew, engines roared, and in the midst of it all... I began to fall in love with Burma and the people within her borders.

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!

Relaxation soup

There are countries enough in the world to quench the thirst of every fathomable human desire. Just hearing the names of certain outlined patches of earth can bring to mind such varied and vivid pictures, it's no wonder travel is addicting in that never-ending-my-list-only-gets-longer-the-more-places-I-go kind of way. Throughout the years, my ever-changing yearnings have brought me into the extremely diverse arms of Ireland, India, Greece, New Zealand, and more. Every country satiates something inside of me. Each unexpected surprise down every new road discovered, is another part of my being unearthed. This past January, as I struggled through a very cold Korean winter, and labored through teaching a six week intensive English program (think 80+ hour work weeks), the travel desires that bubbled up in me coalesced into the perfect encapsulation of those desires, all in one incredibly tantalizing word..........................

...............Thailand. 

Like sweet nothings whispered into my ear, that one word sent ripples of pleasure down my spine, allowing me to plow forward through the monotonously wintry work days. As I woke to another dark, snow-covered morning.....(Thailand); as I walked into the office for the fifth Saturday in a row... (Thailand); as I lay under several blankets grading endless papers in a freezing house... (Thailand), as I battled through thigh-numbing wind... (Thailand); as the bittersweet goodbyes to students, friends, colleagues and korean life piled up, Thailand called me forward. With her promised servings of perfect paradise, wrapped in idyllic beaches, covered in unending sun, drenched with pristine waters, sprinkled with simple bamboo huts, garnished with hammocks, served with a side of jungle wilds, and complimented by unbelievably fresh, flavorful foods... I wanted to gorge myself on everything Thailand could offer me, figuratively and literally.

Fortunately for my insatiable hunger, my wonderful partner that I would be reuniting with at the Bangkok airport after 3 months apart, had randomly found himself killing time in a rinky-dink border town the week before, doing the only there was to do there: playing the slots at the fancy and seemingly misplaced casino. Of course, he won the jackpot. This was highly fortunate for me, because his generous spirit meant that he became dead set on spending said jackpot during our first week together in Thailand. Woohooooo!!

Cut to: a week spent within the glorious clutches of a beautiful, peaceful, secluded island resort, off the Andaman coast of Thailand, on a large yet extremely undeveloped island called Koh Yao Yai. Now, don't be fooled by the term 'resort', for this was not your typical manicured-beyond-belief sprawl. Everything about the place was designed to perfectly blend in with it's surroundings, giving off a beautiful barely-there feel.  All the rooms were individual huts, dotting the forested paths, and inside ours was sublime luxury complete with the most amazing outdoor shower EVER. Definitely not typical backpacker digs! Ridiculous perfection, for my indulgent holiday style cravings. For the next week, I tried my damnedest to help blow through the wad of cash burning a hole in Dave's pocket-- we rented motorbikes for a day, tooling around the islands few stretches of pavement with the wind in my hair and an unbelievably huge grin plastered to my face; we took a boat trip around the surrounding islands, beaches, and bays; we ate very well, as well as ordering a bottle of wine every night; and I signed myself up for what turned out to be the best massage I've ever received. We really really tried to live like high-rollers. Yet, still we left with cash to burn. Amateurs I guess.

After seven nights luxuriating in a pool of relaxation soup, I peeled myself away from those lazy days, and quite eagerly jumped into the adventure of actually traveling in Thailand. First stop: Koh Phi Phi, home to a hugely thriving Thailand beach 'scene' thick with travelers and all the comforts and excesses they love. Not quite one who craves such party scenes anymore, I mostly looked forward to what lay around Koh Phi Phi-- namely the turquoise waters that stretched over the incredible dive sites below. I was to start my open water diving course on the very first day we arrived, and for that I was school-girl excited.

The Route

So where the hell am I these days anyway? Well, right now I'm sitting at a cafe in Hanoi, Vietnam. Last week I was in Thailand. Two months ago I was living in Korea. Another couple weeks from now and I'll be in Cambodia. Not a clue where I'll be six months from now, but six months ago I was in Mongolia. What travels will I be writing about?? The current ones, I suppose. But not without a reference, or an homage, here and there to the roads that I've traveled that brought me to wherever I might find myself currently. What exactly are the current travels? Well, after doing this traveling thing for the past 8 years off and on, I thought it was high time I finally cover the route that practically defines the concept of modern-day, cheap travel in faraway lands... good ol' Southeast Asia.

My route is a bit hodge-podgy, starting south, going back up north, making my way south again. Without a doubt, catering my trip towards meeting up with amazing travel partners is an easy choice to make. From Korea, I flew south to Bangkok. After six weeks in Thailand, I flew north to Vietnam. Now, I will trickle down south again, through Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, back through Northern Thailand, over to Burma, and hopefully still have time and funds left for Malaysia and Indonesia. I started on February 7th... I plan to keep going through July, at least.

Though it's already been seven weeks since I began these current travels, I plan to back-track in this blog a bit, and begin where it began. In Bangkok, on Feb. 7th. Stay tuned...

"Wanderlust"

"The urge for adventure, the desire to know what is over the next hill are like echoes in the backs of our minds that speak of sounds not quite heard and places not quite seen.

Take the chances and follow the voices that call you to distant places. Live, if only for a short time, the life of a traveler. It is a life you will always cherish and never forget. You leave your home secure in your own knowledge and identity, but as you travel, the world in all its richness intervenes. You meet people you could not invent; you see scenes you could not imagine. Your own world, which was so large as to consume your whole life, becomes smaller and smaller until it is only one tiny dot in space and time. You will return a different person.

Many people don't want to be travelers. They would rather be tourists, flitting over the surface of other people's lives while never really leaving their own. They try to bring their own world with them wherever they go, or try to re-create the world they left. They do not want to risk the security of their understanding and see how small and limited their experiences really are. They move from hotel to hotel, protected by money and credit cards, and never really meet the world through which they are traveling.

To be a real traveler you must be willing to give yourself over to the moment and take yourself out of the center of your universe. You must believe totally in the lives of the people and the places where you find yourself.

Become part of the fabric of their everyday lives and you will get a sense of what it means to live in their worlds. Give yourself over them - embrace them rather than judge them - and you will find that the beauty in their lives and their world will become part of yours.

When you move on, you will have grown. You will realize that the possibilities of life in this world are endless, and that beneath our differences of languages and culture we all share the dream of loving and being loved, of having a life with more joy than sorrow.
You will never regret your choice.

To be sure, there will be moments of doubt when you stand alone on an empty road in an icy rain, or when you are ill with the fever in a rented bed. But as the pains of the moment will come, so too will they fall away.

And when you get old, and your body has begun to fail you, the memories will be waiting for you. They will lift you and carry you over mountains and oceans. You will hold them and turn them and watch them catch the sunlight as they come alive once more in your imagination, You will be rich and you will be at peace.

In the end, you will be so much richer, so much stronger, so much clearer, so much happier, and so much better a person that all risk and hardship will seem like nothing compared to the knowledge and wisdom you have gained."
 

-A man who so eloquently said everything I perceive to be true about travel... Kent Nerburn.