where in the world is steph....

The top 20 of my 20's

stephhef — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 16:30:00 GMT

Someone asked me this week what the best moment of my 20's was. I was for one of the few times in my life- unable to speak. How does one sort through a decade of memories and pick one on the spot. I did, but I felt like I was betraying all the other really great moments. I've been mulling the question over for the past couple days, trying to come up with my top 5, top 10, and finally settled on top 20. So here they are in no particular order or preference, the top 20 moments of my 20's.

1. herding goat's in my grandfather's village in Crete on my 25 birthday.

2. the incomparable, award winning trip to Scotland with my mom

3. Greece, Island-power outage-laying on the seawall-warm Mediterranean waves lapping at my side-stars surrounding me

4. Maejo, Thailand- Loy Krathong 5. bathing a blind elephant 6. Athens Olympic's opening ceremonies

7. Torino Olympic's closing ceremonies

8. dog sledding on a glacier

9. my last day working on the boat-bubblenet feeding humpback whales that swam so close to the boat I could have touched them

10. kayaking in Burner's Bay with two of my favorite Libra's

11. doing the chicken dance with a lady in Kimono at Lizzie's wedding

12. learning i was the inspiration for a friend deciding to leave Burma, to go to school in Thailand- to learn to teach- like me

13. my time in Gugulethu, South Africa

14. standing on the great wall (and hearing an Alaskan reference)

15. PEPY- Chanleas Dai, Cambodia

16. seeing the Mona Lisa

17. Being the officiant at my mom & bill's wedding

18. being at Obama's Inauguration

19. seeing some of my students from South Africa at my UW graduation

20. Velencia, Spain- Las Fallas-fireworks at noon

Yellow Flag Morning, Kayakers Take Warning

stephhef — Wed, 8 Apr 2009 23:20:00 GMT

After days of watching the palm trees flaying around in the wind, and red flag after red flag being hoisted in the breeze...today we had a yellow flag on the beach. The ocean looked calm from the condo window a 7am, the cold snap had ended, and we were determined that today was the day we were going to take the kayak out. After slathering on the sunscreen and loading our stuff and the dog into the car, we drove over to Elizabeth's dad's house to get the kayak. 80 pounds of bright orange fiberglass only took us 45 minutes to drag, carry, push, pull, and kick down to the ocean. The white sand beach was filled with mostly empty beach chairs, though a few kids were playing in the surf, teenagers attempting to break limbs on skim boards, and toddlers remaking medieval kingdoms.

We grabbed the kayak and stomped off into the surf, slightly angling ourselves towards an area were the surf seemed a bit flatter. I paused, and Elizabeth asked me if something was wrong. I responded “no, no. I'm just waiting for .....something.” Something.

After a few more waves, I jumped in the front of the kayak, and Elizabeth quickly followed suit. We were off and paddling. Over the first few waves. I then made the mistake of looking first down into the quickly filling void, then up to the impending wall of green. I took a big breath before disappearing into the wave. Glasses, hats, paddles, kayak were knocked around. I looked down to watch the nose of the kayak dip down, and realized the kayak was filled with water and I should get out before it sinks as in theory a floating kayak would be easier to get back to the beach. I bailed out of the boat, quickly getting hit by another wave and the ocean floor. When upon standing, I realized I was not that far from the surface of the ocean, as the water was not even to my waist.

I looked back at Elizabeth, then back at the ocean. Unable to breath because of the salt water I had just inhaled, and not so happy that I had just lost my sunglasses. A very lovely woman came to our rescue telling us how brave were were, I'm sure she meant crazy but in our battered shape was trying to be nice. She helped us pull the kayak to shore and flip the filled kayak over to attempt to get the water out. 45 minutes to get to the water, 5 minutes in the water. Somehow those were not very satisfying statistics. She announced that there were people on the beach rooting for us, placing bets. We figure there'll be a youtube video out later this week. Soaking wet and sandy, laughing like idiots, we pulled the kayak back up the beach. This time we were going to a pond, were we knew there would be no flag and no surf danger for the day. Several hours later back at the condo washing the sand from the numerous crevasses, I looked out to see the flag had been changed to red. The weather conditions being the same as they had been in the morning, I wondered what idiot did something stupid in the surf and got the warning leveled changed, maybe like sink a kayak.

Beijing the Begining

stephhef — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 04:00:00 GMT

Nee how....

I have arrived in Beijing, and believe it or not, so did my luggage. Already things are off to a great start!

Staying in Media Village, much more comfortable than Torino. Things are moving along, jumped into work the day after I arrived, though haven't seemed to suffer much from jet lag.

Yes, it is hot. But really hasn't seemed so bad, though I would really like the air conditioning in my venue to work properly. Today it rained most of the day. That's almost worse than the heat, as it's the humidity than kills me.

I haven't had a chance to do much other than work so far. But (fingers crossed), it looks like i might get out to the wall tomorrow! So excited.

They may say that Thailand is the "land of smiles", but I have to say, so far China has them beat. The Chinese I am working with are great, they actually ask "how can I help"...The first day Sally (the other manager at my venue) and I kept hugging each other and asking if it could be real, staff who not only worked, but where eager! My venue is actually for three different venues; gymnastics, swimming, and diving all come to me for food. Its going to be a lot of work, but we have lots of staff this time. So far no hives, though a few blisters on the feet.....definitely minor!!!!!!

I went to Tesco Lotus the other day (ahhhh how I missed Tesco), and there was a sign for a Thai food festival. I had to laugh.

I don't really have much internet access, so it may be awhile before I write again, But on the upside I should have something more interesting to write about than work (I'll spare you details on the health check up I had to do this morning at the CDC......but let just say there were lots of poo jokes going around our group, and lots of very odd pictures of people in an xray machine......)

practicing my Chinese daily. Today we were trading Thai, Chinese, and English words....not to mention I have to speak Australian too.....

Hanoi

stephhef — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 19:42:00 GMT

The white view outside the window offers no visual clue to where I am as I rub the sleep from my eyes. The screeching of tires on tarmac alerts me to the fact that I am on the ground. Beneath the layer of white, I can make out the emerald green of rice fields. I gather my things, stepping into the isle and pushed along with the sea of Thai women who are part of a tour group. They push me down the isle, down the stairs, passed the military personnel who met our plane on the runway, and on to the shuttle bus and into a seat. I settle in, listening to the women chatter excitedly, picking up various words in their conversations.

At immigration, I get separated from the Thai tour group and for the first time in awhile feel truly alone. I pass through immigration and security with relative ease, and find myself in the arrivals hall surrounded by a mob of touts with signs. I my name and as I make my way through the crowd, I pass a group of backpacker girls looking tired, scared, stressed and confused. As my driver picks up my backpack and heads to the car, I am grateful that while I have no real travel plans in Vietnam, at least I have made hotel reservations for the next two nights. I hate stressful arrivals.

We pull out of the airport, and while the highway is surrounded by giant billboards in English, Vietnamese, and Chinese, they are the only development visible. The rice fields stretch as far as I can see, dotted with the faint specks of woven hats. Along the road, people on bicycles try to cross the busy road. Giant baskets filled with greens are strapped to bicycles carefully hugging the small shoulder. Motorbikes with pigs, chickens and geese in cages, baskets, bags of flip flops, ice blocks, stacks of rice bags, drums of cooking oil, and buckets filled with smoking coals fill the gaps in traffic.

As we get closer to Hanoi, the variety of items strapped to motorbikes gets more interested. 10 foot long metal poles, plywood sheets the size of queen sized mattresses. I cringe, convinced that the traffic has no rhyme or reason. It is only compounded by the fact that I am no longer use to riding in a car and I am now used to being on the left side of the road.

The car turns off the main road and the cement buildings of recent urban sprawl start to become fewer. We are in the old quarter of the city marked by crumbling colonial buildings and giant gnarled trees lining the streets. I am struck by how green this area of the city is. The car pulls over and the receptionist from my hotel meets me, picks up one side of my backpack and directs me down a lane.

The morning market is in full swing. Baskets filled with green vegetables, red fish, chicken, blocks of tofu, unrecognizable meat parts, French bread, and tiny plastic stools line the street. Exhaustion is not enough to keep me from exploring the city, after receiving some suggestions from the front desk and grabbing a business card, I find myself out on the street.

I instantly fall in love with the blocks named for the items once sold on them, the meandering streets, the crazy traffic, the noise, and the vibrancy. I love that I don’t understand anything said around me, I find it relaxing that I am not straining to understand bits and pieces of conversation, and instead let the wave of ignorance flood over me.

Hanoi.

Card Games

stephhef — Wed, 9 Apr 2008 01:59:00 GMT

I jump into the back of the red truck. A young, shoeless boy sits huddled in a corner. I great him, he stares, then mumbles his greeting before directing his attention to some cards in his hands. He places the cards on the bench seat, slapping the seat in an attempt to turn the cards over.

He glances at me from time to time. I smile, he looks away. This goes on for a bout 10 minutes until he slides over to the bench I am sitting on. He flashes me a smile before looking out the window.

I slide my sunglasses up on to my head and gesture towards the cards. I put out my hand as he extends them towards me, but he refuses to relinquish them. They appear to be some kind of animation characters, like the kind of trading cards found in bubblegum packages. He sets them on the seat between us and proceeds to slap the seat. He repeatedly hits it several times, looking up at me between every slap.

I turn my body, so I too can easily slap the bench. Two cards fall over. We play back and forth, the rules changing as we go- his smile constant. Another woman gets in, and seems bored as she watches. I count the cards in Thai that turn over. He nods and smiles.

When the truck stops at my stop, the boy’s face falls as I wave goodbye. His hands are in his lap, sorting the cards. As I go to the front of the truck, he stares out the side window; his smile reaches from ear to ear. His parents in the front are all smiles too. I can feel three sets of eyes on me as I step into the near empty market, but it doesn’t make me shiver. Instead I turn back towards the truck and wave one last time.

late night treats

stephhef — Thu, 3 Apr 2008 04:28:00 GMT

I round the corner while popping a hot coconut milk ball (khnom krok) into my mouth. The sidewalk is empty, the market to my left gated and silent.

There is still one shop, gates thrown wide open, light spilling onto the street. In the stream of light, a woman stoops, spoon in hand, a small bowl in the other. She is cooing at a toddler who is slowing moving towards the center of the sidewalk. The child is paying no attention to the familiar woman, and instead is focuses on the gates of the shop next door.

Standing at the edge of the store is a man whose teeth seem unable to pick a direction, he’s grinning. The store is filled with large yellow candles, shrines, silver and gold offering bowels catching the dim light from inside. I pass waving at the little girl whose eyes are now transfixed on me.

“Sawadii-kha” I say before pooping the other half of the coconut milk ball into my mouth. The girl’s face scrunches and it seems inevitable that a scream is going to escape, when the woman swoops in. Rather than comforting the toddler in a hug or embrace, she grabs the girl’s hand. “Say Hello, Say Hello!”

The girl is frozen, unsure of what to do next. I have stopped, and crouched down, so I am more or less at the toddler’s eye level. I hear “kiss, kiss” and the girl is galloping towards me, and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. Her smile is larger than the old man’s and everyone is laughing.

I stand and before I round the corner look back to see the woman extending the spoon towards the girl again. Only this time she takes it into her mouth, her eyes following me.

Chiang Mai Moments

stephhef — Wed, 2 Apr 2008 03:04:00 GMT

I have been in Thailand well over a year now. As I face the end of my ESL teaching career, and a transition from someone who lives here to just another tourist (marked by the new stamp in my passport I have to get next week), I have decided to share some of my Chiang Mai moments. Most are short, some may just be a series of words, others snippets of a smell or scene and may not have pictures to go with them.

I also plan to finish getting my Cambodian stories typed and uploaded. Soon there will be stories to tell from Songkran, Krabi, Bangkok, Vietnam and Southeast Alaska. The next month will be busy, beautiful, and full of photographs!

Thanks Again!

stephhef — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 04:47:00 GMT

Thank you for supporting The PEPY Ride! With support from donors like YOU, in the past year PEPY has been able to:

establish Eco-Clubs in 9 rural Cambodian schools
expand the English program at the PEPY Ride School to include 4^th grade students
hire a full time computer teacher at the PEPY Ride School
renovate a room at the PEPY Ride School for use as a library, stocking it with over 1400 books
employ and train a local librarian to promote community and student literacy
recruit 77 Cambodian women to apply for competitive scholarships at the Asian University for Women in Bangladesh
provide bicycles for PEPY's Bike-to-School Program for 123 sixth grade graduates , nearly all of whom are now attending secondary school!
expand the Bike-to-School program to the PEPY Friends School in Stung Treng

Markets, Monkeys, and Mean People

stephhef — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 08:12:00 GMT

To begin my exploration of Phnom Penh I continued down the waterfront. I stepped out of my hotel, and was surprised to see that the giant garbage piles had been removed from the sidewalks. I was to find that garbage free sidewalks never lasted long, the piles quickly re-growing throughout the city.

While I watched people fish and bathe in the river I decided to take out my camera to take a few photos. A man selling feather dusters, and brooms from his bicycle was walking by and stopped in front of me. He made some jesters which could only be assumed to mean he wanted me to take his picture. He proudly posed as I adjusted the lens of my camera. I walked over to him, and held out my camera so he could see the pictures. He starting giggling like a child, he looked at me, and then back at the picture covering his mouth and still giggling. He continued on, walking his bicycle laden with his wares, and I could hear him giggling the whole way.

I stopped at a shrine, where people were giving offerings. There were quite a few musicians playing in a covered area directly opposite, and the square was filled with people begging and selling caged birds. You pay to let the birds go, thus earning merit. I also watched the men run around and re-catch all the birds to be placed back into cages after the customers had left. I wonder, if you earn merit by releasing caged birds, what happens to the guys who cage the birds in the first place?

I made my way to Wat Phnom which sits on the only hill in Phnom Penh. It has a wonderful park surrounding it filled with people, monkeys, and an elephant. I watched people feed the monkey’s bananas, and little kids scream when braver monkeys took the food out of their hands.

The American Embassy actually sits at the base of this park, a fortress with an incredibly formidable look about it. Well, except for the obscene Christmas lights display complete with carols being blasted out of hidden speakers. I drove by it one night, and despite being told about the spectacle still couldn’t believe it. The lights covered the building, and filled the “yard” between the building and the fence; giant Christmas trees, gifts, and a Santa on a moto instead of sleigh. I wonder what their electricity bill was. I wish I had taken a picture, but passing by on the back of the moto doesn’t make for the best picture taking moments.

I browsed various markets, the Central market, the market near the hotel, the Russian market. Each one had its own personality, and each one had something fascinating to ponder. Isles of fake watches, piles of remaindered clothing, shoes, socks, reams of material in every color, moto parts, chicken and pig parts, spiders, unidentifiable meat, cooked food, souvenirs. I could have passed weeks just exploring the markets.

At the Russian Market, I found myself deep inside, the sweltering heat making it hard to breathe. There were goods piled to the ceiling, and at times I couldn’t walk down the isle without crawling over a pile of shoes or stools. I started to make my way out, and was standing near the entrance looking at one stalls DVD selection.

(Note: There are people begging everywhere in Phnom Penh, kids, women with infants, people with various disabilities, it is impossible to escape. Because of the shear number of people begging there is no way you can give to just one. Once one person asked several more would crowd around me before I could say no. I decided that I was not going to give any money to individuals, but instead I decided to spend money at places that were seeking to improve the lives of Cambodians through training, education, and that provided various services. I was also participating in a volunteer program that donated money to various organizations throughout Cambodia and that’s involved with schools in rural Cambodia. Often the kids don’t get to keep the money, and when the do often use it to get high. It is a complex problem, with no one good solution. To not give money was my personal choice for good or bad.)

While looking at DVD’s a kid came up to me taping me on the arm to get my attention, and asked for money. I shook my head, refusing. He persisted for a minute, then stuck his tongue out at me. I couldn’t blame him really. Here I was shopping for frivolous items, a foreigner who had paid a considerable sum to come to Cambodia, and I was refusing him. I think I would have stuck out my tongue too. He ran around me laughing joining his friend, and I followed them with my gaze, shifting my purse just incase.

There was another stall behind me, and there was a man shopping with his wife. To be honest, I don’t remember what the wife looked like, but I will never forget that man’s face or the beige backpack he was wearing on his stomach. There was a women talking to the wife about some material or a scarf.

As I turned my attention, the other boy took his shoe shine brush and hit the guy on the arm. The kids laughing started to run off. The man lunged forward swinging out his right leg catching the kid with the brush in the ribs. The kid stumbled, and I could hear everyone suck in a deep breath, before the guy kicked him again. The kids ran off, through the crowd, the wife kept shopping and everyone else went back to work.

Not one person said a word to this man. I was so mad I could feel my face turning red. But the more that I considered what I should say to this guy, the more I lost my nerve. His reaction had been so violent; I could only assume his reaction to me wouldn’t be a positive one. I am not so naive to see these kids as innocent, but this guy’s reaction was completely inappropriate. Disgusted with myself for being lumped into the tourist category with such a horrible person, and my own inability to say or do anything, I could shop no longer and quickly left.

No Reindeer in This Sleigh

stephhef — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 07:14:00 GMT

I weaved amongst the vendors selling live fish, frogs, eels, turtles and dead chickens, socks, children’s clothes, and monks accepting alms. The market by my house is one of my favorite places, especially at 5 a.m. There is something about the market in the early morning that seems more exotic, more special, and I never get tired of it. Some awful smell hit my nostrils as I jumped into the red truck headed to the airport. Through the side of the truck, I watched dark night sky slowly lighten and brighten, the colors changing with each passing second.

The sun was about to rise by the time I got to the airport. I hadn’t even paid the driver, when I heard a man calling out my name. It was one of the Burmese teachers from the Migrant Learning Center. He had brought one of my friends to the airport, who was on the same flight to Bangkok as me. I laughed, it seems like I can’t go anywhere in Chiang Mai without running into people I know. He stopped some tourists and asked them to take our picture before I passed through the metal detector at the door.

It was nice to have company on the flight. I have gotten so use to traveling by myself, and being surrounded by people who can’t really communicate with me, that it was quite a treat! It was also nice to have someone to watch your bags when you had to make a trip to the restroom.

We parted ways in Bangkok, and I headed to Starbucks with my book to prepare for the five hour layover. I choose Starbucks because it was decorated for Christmas and they were playing Christmas music (that and I could sit, read, and drink coffee as long as I wanted). I was feeling the need to have a quick dose of western culture before heading to Cambodia.

Descending through the clouds I had my first glimpse of Cambodia; flat, light green and brown fields, with snaking water ways, flooded fields and dots of houses here and there. It was a bit startling how “little” I saw as we landed. After waiting inline to get off the plane, waiting in line for my visa, waiting in line to pay, waiting in line to get through immigration, picking up my bags, and getting waved through customs, it was nice to see a smiling face in the crowd in front of the airport holding a sign with my name on it.

Within minutes I was in the cool air-conditioned interior of the car. Cambodia was noticeably hotter than Chiang Mai, and I felt slightly overdressed in my long sleeve shirt and jeans (not to mention the sweatshirt I had just shed). The driver told me we were about a half hour from the hotel I was staying at, as I watched the familiar crazy Southeast Asia traffic patterns around us.

We talked about everything from his recent marriage, a vacation he had in southern Cambodia, his job, where he and his wife were from, studying English, and the Khmer Rouge. I was amazed that within five minutes I found myself in the middle of a conversation about Cambodia’s (recent) turbulent history. He told me about family he had lost, family that was relocated, escaping to a refugee camp in Thailand and his return to Cambodia.

I was amazed by all the building going on around the outskirts of the city, and as we approached the city center, the amount of crumbling French buildings, ripped up roads, and piles of garbage everywhere. After settling into my room, I left the hotel and walked around a pile of garbage and headed towards the river. I was staying on the river front, and I wanted to get my bearings before the sun set.

There were an incredible amount of Cambodians out and about along the river. Some were just sitting in the park, others were playing card games, others a game that is like hacky sack but involves a badminton shuttlecock. There were food vendors, naked children, people selling sunglasses and photocopied books, tuk-tuk and moto drivers, and people begging. Motorcycles passed with entire families clinging to the back, bags of groceries, rice, melting ice blocks, and any number of commercial items. It was intense, but I was no stranger to much of the commotion and grateful I had come to Cambodia after having lived in Thailand for a year.

I had a lovely dinner of a peanut curry and sticky rice before retiring for the evening. I had come to Cambodia to volunteer, but I had a few days before I was meeting up with my group, and was excited to get out and explore the city on my own for the next few days.