We only have today

Below My Feet

journeyjane — Sun, 2 Jul 2017 02:01:00 GMT

Phnom Penh, Cambodia
30/06/2017-02/06/2017

The word on Phnom Penh was that spending a few days there was enough since the city offers only two major attractions and some good nightlife. Upon arriving, I immediately felt some fear given the conditions of the city. The air was extremely dirty and above the store fronts on the streets were project-like housing that climbed 6 flights high. Trash was everywhere, probably the worst I had seen yet. Furthermore, the tuk tuk driver that shuttled myself and another girl to the hostel told us to put our cell phones away and backpacks between our legs as locals have been known to whiz by on motor bikes and steal items right out of your hands. Fortunately, the hostel was away from the main roads and much less intimidating. I try not be too critical when entering a larger Asian city because initially they can appear busy, dirty, and overwhelming but after settling in that anxiety tends to fade. The hostel was very clean, had a pool and a restaurant, and they offered to make arrangements for attractions and bus trips. I booked the tour for the one day visit to the S-21 museum and the killing fields and a bus ride to Siem Reap the day after.

The first stop on the tour was Toul Sleng (S-21) Genocide Museum, a former high school turned into a prison camp under the Khmer Rouge regime form 1975-1979. The five run down school buildings on the grounds showed the areas where all members of society from the rich and poor, educated and skilled, religious and ethnic, women and children and elderly, and anyone opposed to the regime were tortured, starved, and killed. The introduction to the history of the mass genocide of an estimated 2 million people (most likely more) that occurred in Cambodia baffled me. How was this not thoroughly discussed in addition to the Holocaust? My feelings quickly transformed from appalling shock to a deep sadness. Given all that I saw in the museum, the commentary and pictures describing the torture and killings in the very rooms I stood, nothing was more chilling the faces of the victims displayed on the walls. I studied their eyes for signs of life as they stood for the identification photos once they were imprisoned and prior to being killed, all I saw was defeat and lost hope. They were physically alive but their spirit had departed. As I left the museum, the visitors had an opportunity to meet one of the survivors that was on site, a small Cambodian man approaching 90 years old. The tourists individually lined up to sit next to him for a photo shot. When my turn came, I approached him and he began to gesture me to sit. I opted out of the photo shot and instead I held out my hand to shake his. Upon realizing I wasn't sitting for the photo, our eyes met and I warmly gave my sympathies by saying "thank you." I'm not sure if thank you was the right thing to say, but I like to think he knew I was saying much more. I suppose my words attempted to convey, "I'm sorry this happened to you", "I'm sorry no one was there to help", and "thank you for sharing your horrific story that will hopefully teach many of us that this should never happen again."

Following the museum, the tour stopped by Choeung Ek, one of the 20,000 mass graves known as the Killing fields. The mass graves were not merely large pits where bodies were dumped but rather pits where live prisoners were taken to be killed. In order to conserve bullets, the prisoners were clubbed in the head and neck by any number of objects that could serve as a killing weapon or had their heads, mainly children, bashed into a tree. The blunt force wounds are visible on the thousands of skulls displayed in the commemorative Buddhist stupa on site. The graves were then covered with a chemical substance to hide the smell of the decomposition and kill any remaining victims buried alive. The sharp horror and sadness I had felt turned into a mourning and quiet observance for those that lay beneath my feet. The walking and audio tour guided me through a winding tree covered park with very few visual attractions. The tour discussed the regime, identified the uneven terrain that were graves, and emphasized that many graves will never be exhumed to identified the victims, notify remaining family, and give them a proper burial. While many bodies have been recovered they are typically not whole as bones slowly continue to rise to the surface of the fields. Some of the other mass graves discovered in the country are surrounded by land mines and aren't accessible. I listened to stories of survivors as I walked on a levee around what appeared to be two square flooded rice paddies. The audio tour described the flooded areas and it became clear they weren't rice paddies but sunken water filled graves. Although religious practice has been absent from my life for awhile now, I couldn't help wonder if their souls were trapped under the water or if a Holy Spirit gave mercy and brought them to rest.

A visit to the war museum was another attraction that could be done without a tour group but I chose to skip it. After the tours in Vietnam and the tour today, I didn't feel like hating mankind anymore, I needed to see evidence of the good in all of us. That evening I visited a charming little area of the city where a maze of small alleys were filled with cozy restaurants and bars. I had dinner and walked around a bit. I bumped into many tourists but also had a few encounters with some locals as I headed back to the hostel. The Vietnamese people seemed a bit standoffish to me and looking back they were slightly less than friendly. I can only really make this observation after speaking and interacting with the Cambodians. They always smiled when your eyes met in the streets and asking them for information brought out their kindness and willingness to help. I somehow expected them to be jaded people or have broken down spirits given the tragedy experienced and the aftermath which is still visible today. I was very wrong and their spirits were very much alive and full of love.

The bus ride from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap illustrated the aftermath of a country decimated by hate. I hoped all passengers that took this ride looked out the windows and saw what they didn't see in a museum, life happening amidst massive poverty as a result of the genocide. Colored one room houses or shacks stood on stilts with steps leading up to the front door, sometimes the steps were just wooden rung ladders to a doorless entrance. The glimpses I got inside houses showed no evidence of wash areas and had minimal furniture. Under the houses hung hammocks where residents could be seen napping and avoiding the hot weather. The yards consisted of dirt with an occasional lotus pond and cows were often seen grazing the grass between adjacent properties. Tremendous amounts of trash was scattered about and being burned in piles, no cars and few motorbikes could be seen, and minimally dressed ganges of children were seen playing stick games. The landscape surrounding and separating clusters of houses was mostly flooded plains and abandoned failed rice paddies. There was no evidence of sustainable land for grazing livestock or raising crops. The bus passed by abandoned schools and the only stores were little shacks selling minimal goods. No one appeared to be working and local transportation was minimal. I had to wonder if they worked and made a wage to support their basic needs. What did they eat? Where did they get their food? What do they do if they're sick or critically ill? Efforts to lower food prices, build schools to educated the children and repopulate the skilled workforce, provide healthcare aid, and somehow try to instill confidence in the government despite ongoing corruptions are all areas that continue to need support.
A few tears rolled from my eyes as I watched and wished I could help. I turned my attention to the clouds in the distance. As I had seen in Vietnam, the billowing, snowy white clouds sat high in the sky presenting a god-like presence that watches over the land below. At this point I became curious if these grand clouds I noticed were unique to this region and climate of the country or world or if I had begun to open my lens, see beyond the horizon, and accept there is more to the view than what's right in front of me.

Photos: Southeast Asia

journeyjane — Sat, 1 Jul 2017 18:16:00 GMT

"We still call it Saigon"

journeyjane — Mon, 26 Jun 2017 01:57:00 GMT

Saigon (Ho Chi Min City), Vietnam
26/06/2017-29/06/2017

Ho Chi Min, previously called Saigon, is known to be a very busy city. I was a little less than thrilled to stay in another big city. I stayed in a hostel again, the small sacrifice of privacy doesn't out way the free breakfast and cheap room.
The itinerary included eating Pho, a tradition Vietnamese soup, visiting the Cu Chi Tunnels, the War Remnants Museum, and a few other smaller attractions.
I started with a full day tour just outside of the city. The Cu Chi Tunnels are an extensive network of underground tunnels made by the Viet Cong during the American Vietnam War. The tunnels had three levels where women, children, and soldiers lived. The main purpose of the tunnels was for tactical warfare by the Viet Cong. I won't go into to details of the war but briefly it was war fought between the years of 1955-1975 between North Vietnam and their allies in the south (Vietnam Cong) and South Vietnam with the United States. The United States military involvement provided assistance to South Vietnam to prevent a communist takeover by the north. My tour guide walked my group through well cleared paths in the jungle explaining the elaborate tunnel system below our feet. Entrances in the ground floor could be seen as well as air holes made for breathing and ventilation. The visitors were allowed to squeeze through a 100 meter of a portion of a tunnel. Some people could not enter solely due to height and weight limitations. The walls were tight and walking was defined as a crouched position shuffling your feet creating a deep burn in the thighs and gluteal muscles. At times we kept descending, increasing my anxiety and disbelief that I was only on the first level of the tunnels, and there were two more levels below! Given the physical frame of the Vietnamese people and their uncanny ability to crouch with their entire heels touching the ground, maneuvering through the tunnels was not a challenge. The same cannot be said about the bulky Americans and their inability to launch a defense was nearly impossible. Another disadvantage for the Americans was the jungle terrain. As I walked on the cleared paths in the outdoor museum I tried to peer into the wooded jungle and image the American farm and city boy soldiers introduction to this tropical world. The densely packed trees and vines, stifling humidity and heat, monsoon downpours and wet gear followed by endless attacks by mosquitos, all without acclimatization, just thrown into the thick of it. I was further disturbed by the most brutal encounter, the traps. Most consisted of dug out holes in the ground with various constructs of stakes designed to impale the torso or drive into the feet or stakes on a swing that fell from upper tree branches. If the traps didn't kill them then the deep wounds created an avenue for infection. The only offensive that could be made here for the U.S. was air raid bombing because walking into the jungle was a death sentence. The exhibit ended with a propaganda film showing the death of the innocent village people by the "evil" Americans. I nearly walked out but stayed and kept some perspective.

The following day I visited the the War Remnants Museum. The museum covered the differing political agendas between the north and the south, the U.S. intervention, the political outcry from a multitude of nations around the world, the escalation to war crimes, and the ultimate withdrawal and communist takeover. The big draw that most visitors to skip to was the graphic photos showing the fallout from the use of Agent Orange. The chemical gas crop dusted entire villages and areas of the region. Instantaneously it caused severe burns on the skin and respiratory tract. There is an iconic photo of a young girl running down the street naked after having just been fully covered with the chemical, she appears to be screaming from the unfathomable pain. The museum showed many pictures of significant physical deformities and cancers that developed, similar to a nuclear plant fall out. Contaminated grounds and thus reproductive organs even up to this day still plague these Vietnamese people of this region. As mentioned, most people started and finished with this display. The room also portrayed many photos of water boarding and other forms of torture and humiliation. Multiple historical accounts posted on the walls discuss mass killings of villages including women and children by U.S. troops. I wondered how these once "Leave it to Beaver" boys could transform into these type of killers. As brutal as it may have been, it seemed like more than just anger and revenge of the enemy for their comrades and friends they lost. There were no rules in this war, I can understand that, but to take what appeared as pleasure in killing was difficult to understand. At one point during this exhibit tears started to role down my cheeks and when I reached for a tissue I realized I wasn't the only one. I left feeling hopeless because these repetitions continue today and the outcries from the world go unheard.

That evening I walked home after a nice bowl of Pho. Pho or noodle soup is a traditional dish consisting of a bowl broth with noodles and choice of beef, chicken, or shrimp. The soup comes with a heaping plate of basil, been sprouts, sometimes cabbage or block hoy, and a slice of lime. It's quite delicious but I'm not how they can eat this meal for breakfast, most tourists will eat it for lunch or dinner. After noodle soup, I noticed a park between two major busy streets. Flanked by two busy streets the park provided a social sanctuary amongst the harsh humming and honking of city. It wasn't large and had very little green spaces but there were many people engaged in various activities. I initially wondered over because I heard a very fast paced workout style music. I came upon an area of women of mixed ages and workout clothes doing some stationary exercise/ dance moves. They pumped their hips back and forth while shaking their arms and head to the same beat, then the beat would change and so would they. One fit woman was leading the group and with every change in the dance move the women were either slow to catch up or just oddly uncoordinated to follow along. Another section of the park had two bad mitten courts were mixed teams of men and woman skillfully keeping a volley back and forth. The teenagers played a modified badminton using their feet to kick the birdie around just like the American hackysack game. Another area had a group of mixed age and gender people dressed in black martial art uniforms succinctly practice drills lead by an instructor's grunts. People walked briskly around the small lotus filled pond in the middle of the park or sit on benches taking and watching. The whole scene reminded me of NYC, people just lived in the chaos, not letting it dampen their spirits, finding creative ways to live within the city jungle. And it is a jungle, like any other jungle. It's a people jungle that can be admired just the same as a green forest jungle. The beauty is in the energy that lives and breaths. Before the night ended, I just happen to smile at three Vietnamese teens as they walked by and without hesitation they stopped and asked if I wanted to talk, help them practice English. We sat and spoke for about an hour sharing our lives, past, present, and our dreams of the future yet to come. I appreciated their enthusiasm and amusement in me as some sort of rare creature although I'm most likely not the only one they hunted at this park. These cities can be deceiving. Upon entering they look like a mess of traffic, quick changes from nice to dirty areas, and loads of people. A leisurely walk around can be frustrating as people whiz by bumping shoulder and a few elbows. Sometimes the best thing to do is start with the basics: settled in with the lodging, orient yourself briefly with a map, feed yourself, then wander out and find a place not too crowded, like the park, and sit and watch. I feel it helps makes the city sounds less deafening, your heart a chance to feel the energy before diving in, and allowing your eyes the ability to see how it all functions.

🤔

journeyjane — Sat, 24 Jun 2017 01:45:00 GMT

Mui Ne, Vietnam
24/06/2017-26/06/2017

Tre, my previous Homestay host, recommended that instead of traveling to a town called Da Lat in the mountains, I should go to the see the sand dunes in Mui Ne. He recommended this alternative because the Vietnamese were on holiday and Da Lat is their primary destination. I took his advice made plans for a small stopover to see the red and white sand dunes, a canyon walk, and a visit to a traditional fishing village. Other than those attractions Mui Ne didn't have much else to offer so two days was probably enough. Given the short amount of time I chose to stay in a hostel which are typically known for cheap shared dorm accommodations. The cleanliness and general layout can vary greatly between hostels. Most hostels are advertised on a phone app that searches multiple places in an area you are interested in staying. On occasion, the pictures and descriptions provided do not accurately represent the hostel, therefor, reading the reviews can be helpful, especially if a hostel has many reviews. I somehow missed the description of this hostel being described as a "party hostel", I think the name speaks for itself. Overall the accommodations were very clean. I shared an air conditioned room with three other girls who were fortunately not the party types. The evenings were a bit noisy at the hostel bar but ear plugs helped. Not all hostels have a bar, restaurant, and pool, but they tend to be included at the party hostels.
My one day in Mui Ne began with a sunrise jeep tour of the white sand dunes which were small but still unique given the sudden change in terrain. The red sand dunes were very disappointing given the litter covering the area and the warning to carry our backpacks on our chests due to pickpocketing as the vendors create a distraction by harassing you to buy trinkets. Preservation of natural areas in Vietnam is disheartening; beautiful areas are often completely disrespected. I saw this in Ha Long Bay and it continues to be visible in the streets, around housing, and in the natural landscapes. The trip continued with a visit to the fishing village. Fishing villages aren't actually villages but an area along the beach where local men, women, and children are tightly bunched preparing caught fish. While it appears like one big communal effort to prep the fish, typically individual family operations all at work in the packed area. The energy is active as the fisher men and women quickly work to get the fresh fish to the markets each day. Large antique looking fishing boats are seen further away from the shore and are uniquely painted red, blue, green, and yellow, with each boat different from the next. Smaller circular boats transported fish, crabs, shrimp, and other sea creatures I could not identify to the mainland. The catching and transport jobs were mostly performed by men while the women would separate and clean the fish brought in the large nets. Watching the routine was almost like stepping back in time, a generational practice passed down and unchanged in their lives. In one perspective it was fascinating see the tradition and in another saddening to know their lives will never be more than fish after fish everyday until they're too old to work. An impoverished life is a persistent theme in Asia and I can't decide if not knowing anything else creates a chronic suffering or stronger connection with family, religion, and the here and now. I believe I've mentioned this in other posts but I still can't get grasp on whether or not knowing nothing else is what makes them rich in life. This conversation may be easier to have with a more affluent local person but that's not the perspective I would like. My perspective of American culture tells me that having everything doesn't ensure happiness or connection with family and religion. I know there is no formula for contentment in life, but I suppose I want to see how other cultures value life and our existence.

The last stop was the Fairy Walk through a stream flowing in a small canyon with red sandy walls. The walk was pleasant but the real benefit was my new found friendship with two Irish gals on my jeep tour. I appreciated the interaction and sharing and laughing about our cultural differences. Later that evening I met them for dinner and we parted having exchanged information that later led to another meet up in Saigon. As I walked back to the hostel that night I walked along the coast, high tide was coming in. During the day the beach had many tourists but at night only a few visited, usually love struck couples. I enjoyed being alone and listening to the thunder-like sound as the waves crashed on the shore. I watched the waves unfold rolling from one end and down; the crashing that ensued just after the white crest appeared on the waves reminded me of the way a child jumps into the water, willing, effortless, and beautifully carefree. I began to laugh with an underlying sense of wanting to cry at the same time, an experience I welcome. I believe the polarity of these two emotions is a union where my core is fully appreciating life in that moment. I can't even say I strive to have that feeling again in the future, somehow I know there is no way to cultivate and recreate the experience. It
doesn't occurs at some cliche moment of "letting go" of all barriers in life. I'm honestly not concerned where it comes from, why it comes, and I do not seek method to recreate it. I just enjoy it.

Time Out

journeyjane — Sun, 18 Jun 2017 15:04:00 GMT

Hoi Ann
18/06/17-23/06/17

I arrived by a sleeper bus after a four hour journey from Hue. I did not sleep but lounged in the long reclining seats enjoying the scenery. I viewed beautiful mountain peaks in the distance on one side and on the opposite side the ocean coast. I had no idea Vietnam had this mountain to ocean relief, regardless of the overcast sky it was gorges.

The owner of my Homestay picked me up from the bus station and took me back to he and his wife's house. I entered through the of front house, children played in the living room, and Tre and Mun directed me to the dining room were they gave me a fresh glass of passion fruit juice. They went over the layout of the town on a map provided and discussed my morning breakfast preferences. The house was on the bank of a palm tree lined inlet coming from the ocean and my room looked out onto the river. The room is attached to the back of the main house. It was very clean and comfy with toiletries provided. After a brief nap, I journeyed into town. I assumed Hoi An was a sleepy little town so I chose to walk even though a bike (traditional not motorized) was provided. Walking gives a better lay of the land, however, I had to walked on the main road. Busses and motor bikes whizzed by incessantly beeping their horns at other drivers. The horn has many meanings here: to signal hello although not often, to signal that you are approaching, to signal to get your ass out of the way, and for any other possible reason including you just feeling like flying down the street holding down the horn. Usually the honks are in threes but not always, so you can imagine all these motorbikes and busses buzzing by and honking uncontrollably. I can't understand how anyone knows what's going on. This traffic chaos can wear on a person and forced me to seek a quiet place. Shortly after arriving into town I found an area called Old Town. It sits on both side of the river connected by two bridges. I relaxed at a restaurant, not feeling the street food that day because sometimes you just need a hardy clean salad which is hard to find on a menu, let alone the streets. Sitting on a top porch I overlooked the river inlet and watched the fisher boats guide people around to see the illuminated store fronts along the shores. Beautiful colored lanterns of all shapes and sizes hung from balconies and ceilings of the stores. The scene was magical and everyone else enjoyed it as they strolled the streets. Initially I had a lot frustration at the beginning of the evening, I just wanted peace and quiet if only for a night or two. Again these quaint towns were overwhelmingly loaded with tourists. After dinner I walked around and found this woman singing in a bar, her voice perfectly matched the popular cover songs we all know. I sat on the curb outside the bar listening, enjoying, and sometimes singing along. I saw a woman about my age doing just the same thing a little further down the curb. I walked up to her and asked if I could sit with her. Her name was Jet (pronounced "yet") and while we briefly discussed the usual exchange of travels information, I quickly tried to go a little deeper. I asked her about why she left her job, why she didn't like it, what she wants her life to be like and how she can make those dreams come true. I just wanted an authentic connection. We didn't exchange Facebook information, we just wished each other the best journey. Where I was previously frustrated with my experience I found that back at the Homestay I was rejuvenated, inspired, and glade the bad emotions were wiped away.

I feel the need to mention these unique shops I saw all over Hoi Ann. Interestingly, in Hoi Ann some people bought what they referred to as premade clothes but another portion of the community preferred only tailored clothes. Tre in fact gave me a card with the name of a tailor he recommended. The tailor shops had mannequins out front of the stores displaying prototype suits and dresses. The remaining portion of the store had stacks of stunning fabrics. I'm not sure how lucrative these businesses are in this little town; it seemed they were on every other corner. And the fabrics!! Unlike anything I've seen the States, which isn't say much but I'd like to think I would have seen a shop or two like these in New York City, not true. I can't even describe the brilliant colors, woven textures, and silky feel. You really just have to see it, not even pictures would do it justice. The personalized stitch work made me think back to memories I have with my grandma. She and I would go to the fabric store, pick out a fabric and pattern I liked then use her Bernina sewing machine to make clothes for me. Obviously I did not need to make my own clothes, but we did together. She taught, I learned, and we laughed when we made silly mistakes, she would say "oh shoot." A memory that makes me feel like laughing and crying at the same time.

In Hoi Ann I wanted a routine for a couple of days. I feel this is sort of mandatory for an extended vacation since I'm mostly moving from place to place with each day bringing something new. So my routine was this: ten minute bike ride to the beach for some sunning, reading and writing, then to the Homestay for a rest followed by another ten minute bike ride to town for dinner and a walk around the stores. It worked. I fought some of that nagging voice in my head telling me otherwise. Slapping it into submission felt good.

I also caught up on laundry. Getting laundry done in Asia is somewhat of a luxury. I walk to an open aired room on street and some woman greets you to take the laundry. She tells you the cost per Kilogram, you agree to the price and return later that day for pickup as long as the sun cooperates. At pickup, you receive your clothes tightly packaged in a plastic bag, they are clean, pressed, folded and smell wonderful. Easy and cheap. I usually have ask them to be more careful when washing a few items, however, I'm not sure this translates well. On a few occasions my clothes came back unwearable. Not great when you can only have a few key clothing items in the pack and I prefer not haggle for a pair elephant pattern palazzo pants in the market.

At Tre and Moon's house they offered to do my laundry at a far cheaper price than in the towns. I told them about my concerns with previous handling of my clothes. Since language is not a barrier due to great English skills, they offered to let me hand wash them myself and use the drying line. The weather was mildly humid (always relative), the sun peaked out from behind the clouds, and a lone goose honked in the background. I have two red shallow buckets, one for wash and one for rinse. I was a bit over zealous on the dry soap with the first batch and rinsing required some actual old school washing labor. Fervently I scrub the clothes, trying to hit the main points, armpits,... and basically anywhere sweat touches, so everywhere. I resolve that a good soak is probably better and less work. The clothes dried on the line and I began my normal routine, off to the beach. Hard life, can't complain.

Continuing on my Hue

journeyjane — Fri, 16 Jun 2017 03:53:00 GMT

Hue, Vietnam

16/06/17-19/06/17

Hue was sort of an obligatory short stop to see the Imperial City. A few other small occurrences added a little spice to the visit. Hue is a busy little city with the continuing trend of many motorbikes, cars, and lots of honking. At this point I was really feeling the need for an escape to a quieter lazy place, but I stayed a few days. Oddly, the city has a large group of young Vietnamese that crowed the restaurants and night life scene. Seeing this group was sort of a new dynamic; they appeared to be more affluent with an average of about 25 years old.

I had heard that most of the westerners hung out in this evening at this bar called Brown Eyes, so I planned on checking it out. But first I wanted to stop by this other club called Astra. I heard about it from someone who described it as sort of a shwanky dance club where you have a personal waiter and they bring you a complimentary fruit plate. I usually relax in the evening and go to bed early so I haven't done the night life stuff yet. I figured this might be the place to do it given the cluster of younger crowds and Hue being a smaller city with a safe feel. I decided to go to Astra first. I walk in to a colored laser light show with high volume rapid tempo rave music and a dance floor front and center. I was ushered to a table and shortly a waiter came to see me. The place was entirely full of Vietnamese locals, I was the ONLY western person. I order one beer just to appease the waiter, but I knew I really wanted to dance.
The dance floor had only young Vietnamese boys out there dancing. I asked the waiter why I didn't see any women dancing but I'm not sure he understood the question. I moved my way near the center of the floor and started letting loose. The boys immediately thought this was the greatest thing they've ever seen and the women on the sides of the dance floor were equally amused and almost in shock that I had the courage to go out there. The Asian women were often quite dolled up and more submissive or reserved, cutting loose wasn't their thing. I stayed for a few songs, went and paid the waiter and headed out. I'm not sure who had the better experience. I briefly stopped by the other bar but I was less than impressed so I stayed for a few songs then headed back to my hotel.

The next day I visited the Imperial City, a walled fortress surrounded by a mote. Built by Emperor Gia Long beginning in 1805, the fortress includes two main parts: the Citadel and The Forbidden City. The former was a protected barrier for the Forbidden City which was where the royal family stayed. The Imperial City has ten main gates and many additional houses, mansions, and gardens. The city was made a UNESCO Site in 1993. The crimson and gold building toward the front of the compound have tiered roofs guarded by dragons on all four corners. The wood faces of the buildings are beautifully carved with images of cranes, cherry blossom trees, swirling cloud patterns, and of course more dragons. Toward the less visited part of the grounds laid a few more dilapidated building undergoing restoration. I stumbled across a garden in this area that had a large lotus filled rectangular pond. I've noticed the lotus flowers bloom more when they are viewed less. A small bridge crossed over the pond and connected two small orchards of bonsai trees scattered in pots; I marveled at their petite perfection.
I wasn't expecting much from the Imperial City but was pleasantly surprised. One of those attractions on a check list that was an appreciated recommendation.

That evening I packed up my stuff and went across the street for a cup of ginger tea at the cafe. When the waiter brought the tea out it was your standard hot water with ginger tea bags. An additional plate with a variety of ingredients was also brought out. The English speaking waiter came over to explain to me the ingredients and explained the how and why each piece was essential to the tea. The plate had a slice of lime, a slice of orange, some sort of root, a brown fruit seed, chunks of sugar, and salt. I was to let it all steep for a bit then he later returned and told me it was ready to drink. I'm not sure how to describe it, I tasted a hint of all the ingredients. He told me it was very good for my health and spirit. I drank, imaging I was nourishing some parts of me; a physical and emotional recharge.

A Bizarre Ride

journeyjane — Tue, 13 Jun 2017 01:00:00 GMT

Hanoi, Vietnam
13/06/17-16/06/17

A Bizarre Ride

Upon arrival in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, I sat down with the manager at the hotel where he gave me a map of the city and we discussed local tours and attractions. This sort of free service is more helpful than a heavy tour book that discusses ALL the highlights. Tour books fail to give any idea of how much time should be spent at each attraction or if it's even worth the travel effort to get there. We planned a two day one night boat cruise to the infamous Ha Long Bay. Transportation to and from Hanoi is provided along with all the accommodations on the boat. Done! Cruise booked.

In the meantime I explored the city that afternoon. In the middle of the city proper is the Hoan Kiem Lake that provides a nice walk and nearby coffee houses overlooking the lake. I first weaved through the heavy traffic roads, where no rules apply, and to this Vietnamese coffee house on a deck overlooking the lake. I cruised around the Lake then ventured southeast into the older part of the city, the Old Quarter and the French Quarter. Retrospectively it would have been ideal to take a guided tour of the area to understand more of the history but I chose to walk around myself. I mildly brushed up on the long convoluted history of Hanoi but I won't dare try to explain it here. Simply put, the points of interest, primarily the architecture, infrastructure, and attractions are a result of the multiple occupations by different nations, all of which were vying for control of this prominent trade center throughout history.

The Old Quarter and the French Quarter for me was difficult to determine the exact boarders. Old Quarter is represented by the overcrowded and disorganized mess of buildings. These accommodations were the result of people migrating from the villages and the growth of their families that occurred as the city was booming. Lining the main streets are these semi-ratty looking 12 ft by 12 ft box-like stores usually selling food, coffee and shakes, and various mini-mart products. The back alleys are a continuation of the store fronts where the impoverished vendors reside. The buildings are all connected and have been subdivided many times. It was difficult to sort out individual residences as your peak into the entrances. Many cots are set up inside, clothes lines cross the upper portion of the alleys, and the vendors are crouched down lining the alleys rotating the sale for their goods, usually produce, throughout the day. I often wonder how much of the goods are actually sold, by whom, and how much goes to waste?
Again, I'm not sure where the French Quarter is separated from the Old Quarter but usually the buildings on the wide tree lined streets are of French influence. The buildings stand out as they are larger, distinctly separated from one another. The building are dressed with the provincial light yellow color with green wooden shutters around the windows. The area in general has a mix of Vietnamese people but one thing I found amusing was the men in the cafes. Regardless of whether or not they are decked out in slacks and dress shoes or shorts and sandals, they all huddle around small plastic child sized tables on plastic stools. Drinking the rich Veitnamese coffee they smoked one cigarette after the next. Although I don't understand the content of the conversation it is amusing to hear their tones wax and wane, the pinching of their consonants, and making exaggerated hand gestures. I have to wonder, do they work? How long do these session last? Does the coffee high not hurry the conversations?

In the same district I visited the Hoa Lo Prison where many Vietnamese were detained and brutally tortured prior to the Vietnam war. It also housed American POWs during the war. I also passend by and admired the St. Joseph's Cathedral built by the French to represent Norte Dame.

Lastly I had to visit the night market since markets have become my mild obsession. This market was less crowded and more geared toward tourists so I decided to hit up the street food vendors which always provide a unique experience. At this particular vendor I sat at a table that had a ten inch tin foil lined pan on a burner. I ordered meat and pork not knowing really what I was getting. A young guy comes over to light the burner adding a little oil and butter to the pan. A woman then brings a large plate of meat with a few veggies, some banquet slices, sauce then walks away. I have no idea what to do so I did the most obvious thing and put the meat in the fryer and started pushing it around. Apparently I was doing it wrong. The woman came back, stirred the meat with her chopsticks, removing the cooked meat and adding more raw. I'm not entirely sure how I messed that up, kinda think she just wanted to be helpful.

The following day the shuttle bus picked me up at 8 am and then made several stops picking up other passengers. We picked up a few Vietnamese tourists but mostly all westerners from various countries. Upon arrival, the pier where there were at least one hundred people stumbling around being directed to their tour boat guides. I realized that myself and the people on the shuttle bus weren't on the same boat together. I was paired up by Ka, the boat guide, and one other guy from the shuttle ride, Rob. Ka had to go gather our other group members leaving Rob and I sittings awkwardly making small talk and waiting to be told what to do. Ka returns and informs us that we will now board the boat but he warns us that all the other passengers are Vietnamese and do not speak English. They were having a reunion and all met for the tour. So 33 people boarded the boat and only myself, Rob, and Ka spoke English (Ka spoke Vietnamese too). Rob and I looked at each other with out saying a word but communicated "are you serious?". After boarding and checking into the rooms, we met on the second deck for lunch. Of course Rob and I sat together, but we were joined by four teenage boys. The food came out and it was evident that my chopstick skills may not be cut out for this activity. Fortunately I did well and we all ate off the same plates from at least eight different dishes. I wish I was exaggerating but the amount of food was more than all six of us could eat. There must have been eight fully loaded plates each with a different dish. The young boys took a liking to us and proceeded to send beers down the table and demanded we chant some Vietnamese cheers slogan (quite long to remember) then slam beers. After only one beer at that velocity the buzz came quick and so I shoved the food in even faster.
Shortly after lunch we visited a large cave, a go to spot for tour guides. All the bay boats rotated unloading visitors to have a once in a lifetime experience to witness a mysterious cavern. Caves were nothing knew to me, I had visited a few tourist exhibits as a young kid. In Costa Rica I did a few small group trips actually exploring somewhat raw caves with spaces you squeezed your body through, hoping your head lamp didn't fall off or the bats swoop over your head. I made an effort to allow the attraction to exist despite my observations of commercialization along with the blatant disrespect for the natural wonder as illustration by trash in the cave and Bay.
Other activities previously mentioned included a short swimming trip and a brief kayaking trip to see monkeys. At night I enjoyed listening to the women on the boat belting out Vietnamese karaoke, and seeing the men in crouched positions, smoking and playing high stakes poker. I also gained a new fiend, Hang, a 20 year old college student studying English and business. Her mom was very ecstatic to have me meet her and speak English, her mom did not speak English. Hang was somewhat of a shy girl with fair skin, a round face, bobbed haircut, and she nervously parted her bangs as we spoke. That evening on the boat we spoke for a good while but as it goes practicing a new language was tiring for both of us. I soon decided to grab a pillow and a sheet and retire to the lounge chairs on the upper deck. While the limestone rock formations at Ha Long Bay were beautiful, spending time with the Vietnamese clan was by far the icing on the cake. I later found it funny that the boat guide, Ka, thought I would somehow be upset to be paired with this all Vietnamese boat but to me it was preferred.

The following day after the trip, Hang came by with her friend and we hung out in my hotel as I packed. We chatted about the difference in our cultures, like how she would stay at home with her parents until she was married. She then took me to a back alley where we sat and had noodle soup; she helped me with my chopstick skills. We visited the imperial Academy, or temple of literature, Vietnam's first university and dedicated to Confuscious. Hang told me it's customary to visit and make offerings to pray for good luck with their academics. She showed me how to bow to each elaborate statue while asking for good fortune.

Not sure if I've previously conveyed this sentiment but the experience isn't in the number of things you accomplish when visiting each place, which can make you feel rushed and tired. Yes, some attractions definitely need to be seen, but maybe not ALL of them. At the prison I saw many young tourists sort of hurrying through the exhibit and quickly peering into the rooms. For me it was more important to read the history. As I went along I took the time to step into the actual prisoner cells trying to get a feel of what it would be like to be locked in for undetermined amount of time. I observed the details of the building, the double bricked walls, the impenetrable locks on the large steel doors, and all the mechanism that illustrate the claim that no one could break free of the confinement. It takes more time and I'm missing out on all the shopping districts that the guide books and suggested on the online itineraries recommend. The tour books also don't know how write about the relationships we make with others like Hang and her family. I just not sure how you could make that happen and check it off the list, it simply doesn't make the list.

The details! The smells, the noises, the people, the feel, and the integration of yourself. I let go of pushing to make things happen and instead accepted that my casual experience is just as special.

Vientiane, Laos- Stories On Walls

journeyjane — Sat, 10 Jun 2017 18:13:00 GMT

Vientiane, Laos- Stories on Walls

10/06/17-13/06/17

I'm sitting under the Patuxay (victory gate) in Vientiane, the capital of Laos. I have come here every day in the three days I've been here. The exterior of the structure has a very strong presence although not overly impressive in the details as you approach. Then you walk through the arches and the brilliant colors of the ceiling flash and mesmerize you. The detailed figures then begin to tell a story that I don't understand but I know the belief and culture lie deep in the scenes. I see a lotus flower in the center, with multiple gods and of course an elephant dancing around the lotus. Gold colored floral patterns create a border and from each corner a pillar shoots down to the ground. The pictures will never do it justice and therefore I can't pull my eyes away, so every day I visit, burning the images in my head.

Tonight my trip here was not only to gaze at the majestic dome for the last time but, here's the kicker, to walk off the massive amount of food I ate tonight in the market!! I ate pork sausage links grilled in flavors I have never tasted, a stick of battered grilled rice, some sort of deep fried semi- sweet bread puff, a red curry soup with bamboo shoots, a coconut milk drink with tapioca pieces at the bottom, and I bought a coconut sprinkled red sticky rice paddy for tomorrow ;). No I didn't eat it all, but close.
I've heard other travelers that I've met up with say things about how they can't eat certain foods here, and not because they have an allergy or intolerance but just won't. I love the excuse "oh I just try not to eat a lot of meat". Are you kidding me?! Meat is all they eat, and mainly pork.
I know this is common knowledge but when you visit a foreign country the experience can be felt deeply or more superficially, neither are bad just different depending on the experience you want. For example, I walk most places and thus have learned the custom of hurling yourself into traffic because they will not stop for you unless you are literally obstructing their way. I make a point to learn and use basic phrases, usually "hello", "thank you", "goodbye". And instead of the food not being neatly cooked and delivered in a restaurant, I go to the vendors at the market where it looks like you could get sick but I've never heard of it happening. The food is the most authentic food you can buy, it's what they eat everyday. There is no better way to experience a culture then to do what they do.
As far the act of consuming, you definitely have to exercise some restraint should take a liking to it. And for those who won't try it for whatever justifiable reason, all I can say that you are missing out in so many ways, not just the food.
Tomorrow I head to Vietnam. Damn, I'm going to have to start all over sampling the new foreign cuisine. And for tonight, I'll enjoy the dome a little longer, its rainy now and this appears to be a local hangout. The old man next to me nudges some mosquito repellent my way. I smiled and said "khop chai" (thank you).

For a capital Vientiane is not very busy and only has a few major attractions. Aside from the Patuxay, the Pha That Luang is another large Buddhist attraction. The gold colored temple is a symbol of Lao nationalism and includes many references to Buddhism and the local culture. The area around the temple is gated but the overall compound includes multiple building where the monks worship and of course a golden lounging Buddha. From a distance, these building appear somewhat identical and most take a quick look, a picture from a distance, and pass on. However by dedicating more time and interest you can pick out all the details in the wood work, placement of the spiritual relics sold in the markets, and painted murals. I walked into a few of the worship building and saw many different objects that comprise a prayer center piece. Inside one building in particular I saw individual murals on each wall that depicted a sequential story. It reminded me of the Stations of the Cross that I used to see in the Catholic churches. Buddhism and Catholicism both shared a story of a revered teacher that suffers persecution and finally a form of redemption. I once visited San Diego and went to the house of the deceased spiritual yogi Paramahansa Yogananda. On the mantle above his fireplace he had multiple pictures of spiritual leaders one of which was Jesus Christ. He too recognized the underlying principals repeated in each leader as they all strived to indoctrinate love to reduce suffering. While seeing multiple golden temples and Buddhas chillin in courtyard can get old, I think it's in the details that stimulates the mind to remember and reconsider past, current and future ideas about...everything.

Before traveling on to Vietnam I needed a tourist visa. The Vietnamese can be quite strict and the online sites give you the run around about how to go about getting one. I chose to just hop on down to the embassy. It took one day to process and the woman at the desk said it would cost $60. I filled out the paperwork and was told to return the next day at 4:30, just before closing and not a minute earlier. I went to get money at the ATM but after trying at least three machines all I got was error messages. This sometimes happened due to the lack of their chip reading technology. I got a Tuk Tuk driver to take me to an exchange because I knew I could get a cash advance on my credit card. The exchange wouldn't do it without a passport which was at the embassy but I knew I had a copy at my hotel. So again the Tuk Tuk sprinted me back to my hotel then back to the exchange. Score, I got cash. The Tuk Tuk driver then took me across town to the Embassy, I then paid and we parted with a mutual smirk about the debacle. I go into the Embassy at 4:27 and was told to take a seat! I'm called to the desk and the gentleman I saw tells me the cost is $80. Well I only pulled out $70 U.S. dollars at the exchange, I look at him and said, "uh no, it's $60", he says $80 like he's confused, I repeat myself, he then caves to $60. Bastards! Trying to swindle me at a government office. Things are always negotiable here.

I walk back to the hotel and laughing on my way! Normally this situation would have crippled me causing severe panic and frustration and eventually leaving me in a poor mood. But I laughed, I genuinely laughed while walking down the road. I watched this happen, I noticed it was me but not me. I have done this same behavior since, laughed with and without reason, it's like feeling the depth of crying but instead pure elation.

The Gibbon Experience

journeyjane — Sat, 10 Jun 2017 12:30:00 GMT

The Gibbon Experience, Laos
07/06/2017-09/06/2017

I read about the Gibbon Experience on an online travel blog and further investigated the website for what I assumed to be a trekking company visiting monkeys in the jungle. The company had two trips to choose from: The Classic Experience (three days, two nights), or the Express (two days, one night). I chose the Classic experience as it advertised the most likely way to encounter the Black Crested Gibbons. Just a little aside on these arboreal mammals, gibbons are actually apes not monkeys. They have long gestational times producing few offspring in their 40-50 year lifespan. Gibbons display sexual dimorphism (females and males are different colors) and they are monogamous with their mate. Most interestingly, their long arms and perfected acrobatic movement allow them to swing from tree branches with an airborne distance of 50 ft at up to 35 mph. Wow, impressive!
The trip required the participants to be "physically fit", more like professional mountain hiker. And "comfortable with heights" was required since the accommodations were in tree houses at canopy height (>100 ft) connected only by zip lines. Got it, let's do this. I arrived prior to the 9 am departure time only to find I was one of 12 people headed out, a little larger group than I had expected. Most of the group loaded up into the back of a truck and myself, a couple, and the crew in another truck. We started off in a downpour of rain with the prediction of more rain to come. The trucks took us on an hour long ride through paved mountain roads and another 40 minutes on muddy carved out paths wide enough for a truck, a rough ride. About half way along the dirt road our truck broke down while the other truck sped ahead not knowing of our predicament. At that point walking to the village was our only option, also the starting point for an additional 1 hour hike just to base camp. To make a long story short we made it to the village given the help of another rescue vehicle, then walked through a few small rivers, up slippery muddy trails, arriving drenched, tired, hungry, and knowing we still had another thirty minutes to go. Now came the tantrum which led to my few days of solitude. The woman of the couple I was traveling with found out that most of our group would be staying together in one treehouse and the three of us would be in a smaller tree house. Her goal was not only to zip line and see gibbons but stay up late having bonding sessions with the others. She demanded to be with the other group leaving me the odd man out since the tree houses were now at capacity, except one. I now had my own private guide, private treehouse, and still daily meet-ups with the group. I was thrilled! Treehouse number three had by far the best panoramic view of the mountains where every morning and evening I watched the low lying clouds drift in, nestling in the valleys. The sunset always said goodnight leaving me with the sounds of the toads grunting, the night birds singing, and the bats squeaking as they hunted my predators, the mosquitos.
Everyday I woke up with the sunrise. Time did not exist; I had left my phone with my belongs in the office in Huay Xi. Within an hour the chorus began, the gibbons started their calls. Apparently they call out for a couple of reasons: to have a duet with their lifelong mate thus strengthening their bond, for territory disputes, and mating of course. It's difficult to describe the sound but one lone gibbon usually starts things off then a few others chime in. The calls begins as a deep, long siren increasing in pitch. After a few rounds, one gibbon will change the tune. The only way I can think to describe it is similar to a ray gun used in the 1950s alien movies, sort of a rapid fire staccato sound. You know the sound, your probably doing it in your head right now. The gibbons carry on for 5-10 minutes. The experience is moving, a reminder of the beauty in your infinite connection with life. I live for this.
I did actually see the Gibbons. My guide took me on a tour of all the tree houses and I was lucky enough to watch a small family goofing off in the trees. Being quiet and still was the best way to find and observe them. This was one benefit of being separate from the group. The others didn't see the gibbons on the trip.
As for the rest of the trip, we did fight another short rain storm which led to the pleasure of pulling leaches off my socks and shoes. We did have an hour and a half each day cruising the zip lines that formed a circuit you could traverse (approximately 23 cables total in the camp). We all became experts at setting up our gear on ourselves and the line. Accurately judging the landing platform was a small challenge but the view in and above the canopy provided a rush of endorphins that quickly made us junkies, repeating to circuit never got old.
At last we had to return, if not due to the end of our stay then definitely due to the need for a shower. Although the tree houses provided a shower, toilets, and clean drinking water, the humidity and mud never seemed to let up. So away I went, on the bumpy road, window down, breeze through my hair, sun on my arm, and countryside to view.

Chiangmai, Thailand -New Do

journeyjane — Tue, 6 Jun 2017 22:06:00 GMT

Chiangmai, Thailand- New Do
31/05/17 - 06/06/17

I arrived in Chiangmai in late evening and wasn't able to get a good feel for the size or the character of the city. I assumed I was arriving in a large city, similar perhaps to Kuala Lumpur. My failure to do my research prior to arrival was easily fixed with a map provided by the hotel, in addition to a bidder outlining guided tours to chose from.

The city architecture is the most unique of the cities had been to. Chiangmai has two defined areas referred to as an inner town and an outer town. The two areas are separated by a six thousand foot by four thousand foot brick wall with an additional moat surrounding the wall. The city was built in 1296 to be the capital of the Lanna Kingdom, which ruled most of northern Thailand. Chiangmai was a major trading post due to the abundance of water in nearby reservoirs. The three kings of Chiangmai constructed the wall for defense and protection. The architecture was purposefully designed incorporating local cultural beliefs, indigenous technological knowledge, and Hindu Buddhist influences.

I awoke on Thursday with the intention of starting a walking tour starting from outside the town and moving inward. Before headed out, I looked in the mirror and saw my ratty mop on my head. The ends had become dry, brittle and it no longer shined. Why was I resisting a good chop? Somehow I felt it defined beauty, and perhaps made me see a physical beauty that I was incapable of seeing without my long locks. I decided to take a chance, cut it off. After all, I'm trying to love myself on a deeper level. So I walked, as I said I would, to a salon on the outskirt of town in what happened to turn out to be quaint area with boutiques, small cozy restaurants, and a more local feel than within the walls. I had a quiet lunch then headed to the stylist, I kept telling the stylist to cut shorter. Afterwards, my general impression was less than thrilled but I applauded my efforts to make a change, after all change isn't always comfortable. Returning to the plan, I slowly made my was back to the center of the town. I visited the Wat Phra Singh temple, a very grandiose shrine completely gold in color. The shape looks like a witches hat with a square brim. On each side a golden elephant protects the structure. Another smaller golden shrine sits just on the other side of a church-like building where the monks pray. Although not as striking, the replica of the first shrine was surround by even smaller bright white shrines in a scattered pattern like headstones warning visitors. Few people if any were there, perhaps due to the eerie feeling I had here but I assume it was more likely due to its lack of brilliance. I wandered back toward the inner city and made it under an alley store front sharing giggles with owners that we made it just in time. As the monsoons do, a heavy downpour lasted about 5-10 minutes then let up giving me just enough time to sprint to the next location before it starts again. I headed to the hotel for a clean up, small rest, then did a little research for a good place to eat.
Every city and town has an indoor outdoor market. While it may seem redundant to constantly visit them there is a fascination when you walk through. In this market I ran across a butcher pretty much dissecting animal parts more than carving cuts of meat. Impressing my self with my anatomy identification I saw intestines, hearts, livers, spleens, kidneys, hooves, and tongues all for sale. Seriously made me question the cuisine, I guess what you don't know won't hurt you. This area of the market was in the "other food" and produce portion, occasionally I had to cover my mouth to hide the gag. Other areas included...everything. Clothes, tapestries and fabrics, sandal and shoe stores, plastic wear, herbs and dried goods, flowers, ritual relics, street food, and so much more it's hard to remember it all but a lot could be categorized as junk. Most of these goods are excessively repeated in multiple small crowded stalls that were at times hard to walk through.
With the river nearby, I escaped and in the evening I enjoyed some time by the river and hearing live music at the night bizarre.
Thai cuisine has been so far my favorite. Curry does not just pertain to India as I had thought. I decided to take an half day cooking class. When the guide arrived she said other members canceled and I was the only other person scheduled. I had a solo class with multiple chiefs and a tour of the market learning about the ingredients we would use. The half day class menu items was now extended to the full day class dishes. I would make a dish and eat it, then make another dish and eat it, and so forth. I really couldn't fill my stomach more but didn't care. The dishes were all so easy to make I was sort of miffed I hadn't attempted these before and promised this would now be on my weekly menu back home along with salmon patties. On my last night, I made a stop by the three kings statue for a few pics then quickly left due to the very touristy crowds at an arts and craft walk. I sorta stumbled upon a temple I had heard of but didn't get good reviews. The temple is called the Wat Chedi Luang. I was taken by this massive stone tiered fortress. I'm not sure if one could even enter the actual temple given the stairs up were small and steep, almost just for show. The temple had no frills whatsoever, the entirely stone structure had some parts deteriorating and grass tufts were scattered in the cracks of the walls and stairs. I can see how people would just breeze through this exhibit and rush over to a golden Buddha laying on its side in a far corner of the compound. The temple was originally built in the 14th century and had many delays during the construction. To me this 270 ft enormous carved rock somehow moved me and I can't explain the feeling, it was so raw and I just gravitated to it. As with only a few other sites on my trip, I just stood there and didn't know how long.

Chiangmai is absolutely adorable and should not be missed. You'll feel sad to leave its charm and most likely wish you would have stayed longer.

Koh Phangan- No sunset, No problem

journeyjane — Wed, 24 May 2017 10:45:00 GMT

24/05/217 - 31/05/2017

Koh Phangan, Thailand

I flew out of KL to a small Thai town called Surat Thani where I took a one hour bus ride to a port then a two hour ferry to arrive in Koh Phangan (it took me several try's to pronounce the name correctly, "g" sounds like. "Y").

Koh Phangan is one of a three islands off the southeast cost of Thailand, south of the gulf. The larger island, Koh Samui, I avoided due to a lot of tourism. However, little did I know, Koh Phangan is home to the monthly Full Moon Party. Thousands (no joke) of people on every full moon invade the island and party. I did not attend due to excessive use of drugs, alcohol, and techno music with rave style dancing. Been there, done that (but not really, mom).

I had set up a modified Homestay where I would stay in an adorable jungle house for a month and watch this woman's dogs while she is in India. When I arrived I walked into the beautiful house but immediately got a strange intuitive vibe. I gave it a night, then spoke to the current caretaker and found out the gig was a little more than watching/feeding the dogs, and I felt misled. In addition, it was very far from the beach with no restaurants or markets near by; I was more than distraught by this situation. I thought the situation would allow me to chill out and meet people. I promptly left and moved to a place I found directly on the beach. The place was on the beach!! I mean on the beach, the sand shore was about 100 meters (325 ft) from my front door. I could hear high tide crashing on the retaining wall every night. I gladly suffered in the heat under a fan just to fall asleep to the waves sounds. Bliss! When I think back to my anticipation of the other housing gig, then the bad intuition and let down for having to leave, I had a moment of clarity while at the beach house. (The following thought process is nothing knew to any logical mind but to see it up close and personal was like a reset button). The initial house that I thought held some peace ended up bringing complete inner personal chaos. Only after was I able see it more clearly, it was a stepping stone to a place that was right for me. In general, sometimes bad things happen in order to redirect you toward the right path. I then questioned, how do practice the patience and foresight to navigate future stressful events in life? You know, the ones that completely consume you.

I spent one week on the island. I ate Pad Thai which tastes nothing like Pad Thai in the states. I sat on the beach every night. I went on a scuba diving trip. Although hazy skies that week made the sunsets hard to see, on my last day the sky became blue. I hiked about one hour to a jungle bar, called the Amsterdam Bar, that had a treehouse like porch overlooking the Haad Chao bay. I waited for the sunset to come and amaze me. Just a half hour before sunset, cumulus clouds formed and the sky darkened. I watch a rapidly moving rain storm move across the bay, a curtain of rain, it was breathtaking. I didn't see a sunset but rather something just as beautiful. That night while I slept I awoke to a loud thunder like sound. I went outside to see the cause and it was the largest high tide I had see yet, just crashing violently on the shore, beautiful. I went back to bed and was lulled to sleep.

Lost in Kuala Lumpur

journeyjane — Sun, 21 May 2017 10:42:00 GMT

21/05/217 - 24/05/2017

Kuala Lumpur

KL, as it is referred to, had a few gems although I wouldn't recommend too much time here as transit is difficult and the lack of sidewalks limits walking as well.

The first day I walked to the Petronas Twin Towers, the tallest twin towers in the world. They are quite impressive.

I stayed in China Town which was definitely the heart of the city, very busy with a good mix of locals and tourists. Petaling Street is the main market, none of the streets are really labeled but you can't miss it. The street consists of a long row of hawkers (vendors) set up in small 10 ft by 10 ft tents all connected together. Whatever you want you can buy. I purchased a little Bluetooth speaker to take with me for laying around in the evenings, only 35 Malaysian Ringgits, around $8. Everything can be haggled, so if you know roughly how much something should cost then you shoot well below that with the hawkers and then work your way up or down till both parties are happy. I would go to grocery stores and malls to see the set prices of different goods. I would then go to a hawker stall and under bid the product I wanted. It is definitely a game, including the rolling your eyes at the price they quote and then pretending to walk away until they call you back with another price.

The next street over from Petaling was an outdoor food market. At night people filled the streets, finding a dish, then sitting down to eat at small little plastic tables with stools. I really enjoyed the kababs. The kabob cart is set up with different piles of skewered food all ordered by veggies and meats. You pick what you want, put it on a plate and hand it off to a guy tending the fryer. As the food cooks, you find a table behind the vendor's cart and wait for your kabobs. I chose a few kabobs to be fried and then I picked a few to be steamed at the table. These tables were not plastic but metal with a propane lit metal container in the middle filled with water. The pot was where you submerged the food for steaming, 5-10 seconds. Usually the kabob cart is crowded with people and yet the cooks remembered who picked which kabobs and where you are sitting.

Meeting other travels has been difficult for me since I'm staying at budget hotels and homestays instead of Hostels. The hostels are filled with 20- 26 year olds, constant loud music and drinking, and the sleeping accommodations are bunk bends. However, sometimes you just need to talk to other people that fluently speak English. The street with the food also had a Reggae Bar of all things. The reggae music was legit and the two tool tables provided a nice activity as you chatted with other travelers.

Lastly, KL had a wonderful bird sanctuary high up on a hill with a planetarium nearby. I chose to see the bird sanctuary given time constraints and it was wonderful. I saw the famous native Rhinoceros Hornbill. The African Grey parrots and the owls are also a classic favorite of mine.

The city was also scattered with beautiful mosques but I did not go inside.

Singapore

journeyjane — Thu, 18 May 2017 10:39:00 GMT

18/05/2017-21/05/2017

Singapore

Singapore is a large city that is remarkably clean, modern, and with a very reliable transit system. I mainly rode the bus instead of the metro as it provides better views of the city. I started out visiting the Gardens by the Bay, I was less than impressed. The tourist attraction is located within a nice seaport park but the "gardens" weren't really gardens. The area included a few man-made domes that contained a living artificial tropical forest and a cloud forest. I suppose this is a nice attraction as an inner city nature getaway for people unable to experience the real forests. In addition, as another traveler put it, Singapore has a very sterile feel to it, and the nature park helps to add a living element.

The Burgis Street market, as you will hear, is like most markets, a lot of repetitive tents selling basically the same curios. Occasionally I entered these shops that sell some sort of dried food (?) products. I know I saw dried anchovies but I was utterly confused by the other products. Most of the goods looked like what one might put in a witches brew or more as seasoning or Chinese medicine. I would love to know what this stuff was but talking to the sellers was difficult, the shop were exclusively for the locals.

Obviously, I had to try the infamous Durian fruit. Must people state the fruit smells bad, so much so it is not allowed on public transit. Others don't mind the smell and enjoy the taste of the fruit, the former group may or may not indulge. My personal opinion is Durian really doesn't smell horrible but sort of has a stinky feet smell. The green, prickly football sized shell when opened contains pod like seeds which are the yellow fruit. The taste is described milky or creamy, and that I agree with. The texture is smooth, slimy, and difficult to pull off the seed similar to a mango. Some people find it a delicacy but I didn't not care for it and I think that was due to the milky flavor with a hint of foot funk.

A guided tour at the Singapore National Museum provided an abbreviated look at the the colonial settlements and the Japanese occupation during WWII. The tour concluded with a look at Singapore's current economic growth which is very obvious by the sophistication of the city compared to other regions of Indonesia and Malaysia as I will come to later understand. Lastly and most important, I went to Little India which completely exploded my taste buds and spoiled any state side view of Indian food. Of course I had to sample the staple Indian foods in order to compare, these included: vegetable Pakora, chicken Tikka Masala, and mango Lassi. I am not ashamed, I ate it all. I then walked the major market street and weaved through the crowds, I was definitely one of very few if any tourists. The local shop items varied and included: electronics, clothing, flashy jewelry shops (mostly fake gold and silver), ceremonial flowers (which you're apparently not allowed to smell, I tried), statues, traditional saris and bindis and bangles.

Although the China towns and Little Indias seem repetitive in major cities, they are definitely a good source of authentic food and market shops should you miss the experience in another city.

Bali: Gone but not Forgoten

journeyjane — Wed, 17 May 2017 00:20:00 GMT

18/05/2017
Sanur, Bali, Indonesia

I'm leaving Bali today and headed to Singapore. Here are just a few additional highlight of the trip and activities I highly recommend.

10/05/2017
Tegalalang Rice Terrace

Batur Region is located in the northeast region of Bali. Mount Batur is an active volcano that last erupted in 2000. There is very little vegetation on and surrounding the mountain as most is covered by volcanic rock. At the bottom of Mount Batur on the southwest side sits Lake Batur with another large mountain, Mount Abang, just across the Lake.

Pura Tirtha Empul
The water temple is dedicated to the Hindu god Vishnu. A mountain natural spring feeds a few pools one of which is a long rectangular pool lined with ten water spouts on one side of the pool. The spring is considered holy and spouts are individually passed through in order to perform a purification ritual.
A Hindu tale describes a battle between a powerful magical king Mayadenawa and the god Indra that led to the formation of the spring.

Pura Gunung Kawi
The area is home to 9 large shrines carved into two rock walls. The shrines are called Pedharmon and are funeral monuments dedicate to King Anak Wungsu and his favorite queens.

Vesak Holiday Processions
As we drove from one shrine to the next traffic came to a halt a few time so large groups of Balinese could pass, making their way to local temples. They were celebrating the holiday Vesak which is observed by Buddhist marking birth of prince Sddhartha Gautama.

Kopi Luwak Coffee farm
The small farm or garden walks you through a path that displays all the native fruit and herb plants on the island. Some of the fruits and herbs included coffee berries, vanilla, echinacea, Durian fruit, avocado, rosellea, ginger, turmeric, and cinnamon, all used as ingredients for various products sold on the island. At the end of the walk, samples of tea and coffee featuring these ingredients were provided for tasting. The highlight of the tour was the Luwak coffee made from digested coffee beans found in the faces of civets.

14/05/2017
A trek up to the peak of Mount Agung to see the sunrise was quite spectacular. The hike began at 2 a.m. and was a strenuous 3-4 hour climb to see the sunrise at 6 a.m. Mount Agung is also an active volcano that last erupted in 1963.

15/05/2017
Sanur- a lazy sleepy beach town on the eastern coast of Bali where I swam in the ocean and enjoyed reading a book under and beach umbrella on a lounge.

Next stop, Singapore.

Black Dragon Serpent

journeyjane — Fri, 12 May 2017 22:51:00 GMT

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia
05/12/2017

Black Dragon Serpent

Anna is a woman in her late 30s that has been staying in the unit below me. Anna is from Bulgaria and has been here over one month developing a webpage, she is planning to stay another 4 months. Prior to yesterday we spoke only once or twice, casual hellos and a brief get to know you conversation. At that point we had established a mutual interest in yoga but one being more authentic as I have previously described. She also gave me the name, Dewa, and number of an instructor in town who does private lesions if I were to be interested. This instructor is a Balinese man roughly in his early to mid 60s. He has a school where he teaches kids English and yoga for free every day. He has been invited to Europe and the U.S. to teach yoga and give seminars. He holds a one month teacher training course per year with a limited number of people. He teaches the philosophy of yoga with some emphasis on traditional asanas.
Yesterday I was in the communal kitchen cooking some early dinner when Anna asked if I wanted to go meet Dewa (pronounced Day Wha), he was going to show her a friends place where she can move. At first I said no because I had to get my laundry before they closed. As I stood there cooking I thought I might be missing out on a nice invitation by another traveler and for what, my laundry? So I caught her before she left and told her I would like to go. We drove on her motorbike to an alley entrance into a housing compound. This is the way most houses are presented, not a front of the house with garage presentation as in the states. Instead, one enters into a back alley gate into a stone wall enclosed compound with a small walkway leading you to a beautiful garden where a house sits at the back of the property. Within the compounds is the house, most likely a temple, usually an abundance of naturally growing exotic flowers, and in this case a pool with goddess statues along one side that pour water into the pool.
We met Dewa, he showed us the place, Anna decided it was too expensive ($524/mo with a large room, bathroom, and kitchen looking out onto the pool), and then we planned a yoga session with Dewa for the next evening. Anna wanted to take me to her favorite vegetarian restaurant, she said it was by donation only. We travel again on her motorbike through the streets of Ubud, turning into smaller streets with less pavement, then streets I wouldn't call streets at all but walkways. We walked into what I felt like was an on the ground treehouse. There was no roof except in a small corner area where the food was made, the rest of the "roof" was tree, shrub, plant covering. Tables and seating were disorganized, no two alike, and scatter around the restaurant. There was an off centered area with a red cement floor, appeared to be for dancing, where a woman and a man sat playing music. Everything about this place was pleasantly unusual. All the decorations were clearly recycled, glass bottles adhered together to make tables, logs for seating, random birdhouses and other hand made art hanging from the tree ceiling. The restaurant also came equipped with a boxy covered reading library in a far corner of the place. And yes, the food was great, all vegetarian and a great mix of cooked veggies, potatoes, tofu and Tempe, combined with rich and slightly fiery Balinese spices. The suggested donation was 4,000 IDR per helping of each side, which turns out to be $0.30 each.
Toni, the owner of the restaurant, pulls up a chair as he knows Anna. He has peppered shoulder length hair and a stoner type demeanor. He tells us about the gardening he did that day, the changes he's making on the restaurant, and overall he had a quiet joyful personality. Anna asks him to take us to the sauna they went to on a different date, he was gladly willing. We wash our plates, which is another requirement of the restaurant, then hopped on the bikes and again took winding roads that turn into dirt pathways. The destination appeared to be out in a rice paddy where a hidden resort appears. We pay to enter and use the facilities, a steam sauna and pool. The resort mainly houses westerners all of which had bathing suits, but given our lack of planning I was instructed to disrobe and put on a borrowed sarong from the resort. First we enter the steam sauna which was no bigger than a ten foot round stucco room pouring out hot steam infused with ginger. The sauna was my happy place, I could have stayed there all night, breathing ginger air and sweating. After the sauna I went to cool off in the pool with Anna, just us two. Overall, the spa area probably had 10-12 people including us, plenty of space to go around. Time was lost through this entire process from the restaurant through till the end of the spa, I had no knowledge of the time nor was it necessary. I floated in the pool, a few clouds in the sky, watching the newly waning moon rising in the night sky. I could never float on my back very well, seems like I always sink, but this time I played this body game of inhaling and feeling my body rise and float, then exhaling and feeling it sink. I kept all but my eyes, nose, and mouth under water, listening to the sound of my breath and heart beat, lub dub, lub dub.
The evening ended with a self scrub down with a mixture in a bowl containing salt, coffee, cacao, coconut oil. We marinated ourselves by a palm leaf lit fire then rinsed and drove back.

Now for the story twist.

I was so relaxed that for sure I'd sleep soundly. My dream last night was chaotic and dark, and I was frantically looking for help because I felt a black serpent moving inside me, all over my torso. I found an old hag healer lady, she placed a mirror in front of my body and we saw a black dragon serpent, not in full form but mostly a misty cloud form with spines on the back frantically moving inside me as if it had been disturbed. The healer came and went a couple times in the dream always showing me this creature and then disappearing only to leave me frantic and scared again. So yea, great way to sleep and wake up. Upon waking my day was doomed after that. I had planned to go to yoga but my tolerance was shot, I couldn't stand the fake yogis, or the irritated look the locals sometimes gave, or the overtly inconsiderate Chinese tourist, or the incessant rooster crowing, or the constant burning of plastic and trash. I tried to do some planning for the next two weeks of my trip but ultimately became frustrated with that as well, feeling the constant need to hit all the highlighted sites, check it off the list. Then trying to schedule more intimate trips like scuba diving in Thailand, which I learned takes two flights and a ferry ride just for a day maybe two for a half day dive. Finally I got to the point where I stopped and thought what am I doing here? Funny how we arrive at these questions. A great night followed by a bad dream then a crappy attitude and suddenly I'm questioning my whole trip, whoa! Time to slow it down. At this point I figured best to cool off by getting caught up on the recent Comey debacle then take a nap!!

I woke up and remembered Anna and I were meeting Dewa for yoga tonight. We again rode over to the same place with the pool and set up our mats. We started out the practice unlike any other way I have started yoga. We prayed to ask for protection during our practice so that this practice can only bring healing. We then did only a few standing postures and breathing exercise. The breathing exercise was done standing. We lifted up our outstretched arms bring the energy from the earth, then we brought our hands together bringing them down to our core (belly button region), pressed our palms and held our breath. Strongly we slapped our palms together and blew out the air over our left shoulder, and repeated. The exercise was meant to bring energy into the body and stamp out the bad energy and breath it out. After a couple of rounds Dewa put is palm just in front of my face and moved his palm down toward my heart, his hand started trembling the closer he got to my heart. He'd stop there and pulled his hand away and flicked his wrist as if to shake something out of his hand. He repeated this but his hand wavered toward my right should then down, again he flicked his hand. One last time he did this and finished as if he was pleased. He then goes over to Anna to give the same treatment, palm in front of face then down, no flicking, just states, "you're good". Oh crap, what did that mean?

After the practice we sat to chat about the postures, what they mean, how our lives help heal us, taking care of ourselves, doing good deeds for others, always giving and not taking. He turns to us during this conversation and mentions areas of our body that need some attention and interestingly told us a food/drink not to consume as it could only make it worse. Anna's issue is her kidney, she wasn't supposed to drink/eat yellow, like pineapple. My issues he states is my heart and I'm not supposed to consume alcohol (at least not now). He also tells me that there was black in my heart, but he removed it and he had to go over toward the right shoulder a little because it moved a little and he wanted to get it all. Again, whaaat?!

I told this man nothing of my dream not does he know any of my toxic past alcohol related incidents. Anna had to go but I stayed and spoke with him a little longer, nothing very specific, I just listened to his stories mainly. He again said he removed the darkness and I am okay now, he said he could feel my soul just peaking out wanting to say something. I told him I wanted to learn more and understand more about how to love myself. He told me that it's important to treat yourself as your sibling, something dear to you that you take care of and help endlessly as needed. He told me to take care of my body because it is the house for my soul and it has the be kept nice on the inside more than the outside. Lastly he told me to stay positive and to say positive things and positive things will happen.

Some of these ideas are not knew information, the constant self reminding and the occasional reinforcement is very helpful. Abstaining from alcohol and keeping my temple clean somewhat easy tasks but the loving myself is a challenge, especially staying positive while trying to do so.

I still felt like crying when we were done as I had felt all day long, but somehow the urge wasn't as strong and it even felt like a different emotion. I'll always be a skeptic but it did make me consider again the power of belief.

"It's not how well you do the pose but who you are when you do it".

journeyjane — Tue, 9 May 2017 22:00:00 GMT

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia
05/09/2017

"It's not how well you do the pose but who you are when you do it".

I decided to stay in Ubud another week to delve into yoga or asanas a little further. Let me first just say that I use the word asana to describe positions of the body be it still or moving. Practicing asanas are only a part of yoga. The appropriate use of the word yoga is simply put to describe a way of life or living. Yoga refers to a liberation of the mind and body; a conscious awakening to our interconnectedness to all of life.

I found a very nice studio that offers a variety of classes. I have been starting out my mornings with a Vinyasa class, a more movement based style of yoga that flows from one posture to the next. This class is a fresh way to wake up as it is usually very challenging, helping to circulate blood and oxygen and preparing for the day. After this class, I putz around the area seeing local sites. In the evening I go back to an evening class and I chose a class that compliments the strenuous morning vinyasa class. For example, I attended a class called Roll and Release where we used two semi soft balls to roll on different muscle groups. The intent is to softly release tight areas in muscles, and it was amazing to feel the length gained when one side was rolled out compared to the other side yet to be rolled.

The class I attended last night was a class I'm most excited about, called Yin Yoga. The Taoist belief in the concept of Yin and Yang is used in this class as the main focus. Yang refers to things that are energetic, warm, and maybe strenuous. Yin is the compliment of Yang, and refers to slow, cool, and gentle. During the class we did about four postures, eight in total to account for left and right sides, and each posture was held for 5 minutes. The challenge is mostly in quieting the mind first then the body. For example, I would start the pose feeling very frustrated because I couldn't get into position and the initial position can border on hurting but not enough to make you stop, so really uncomfortable. Once I started to feel okay with the posture about a minute or two would go by and my mind would start chatting again. I felt the need to readjust or wiggle a toe or something. The second quieting now begins, turning your attention to your body and breathing, focusing only the realization that right then right there everything is as it should be and there is no need to force the body to open. Great class!!

Another thought I'd like to share with you is something a yoga instructor said in a different class the other day and I'm not sure if it truly resonates with most people. The instructor said, "It's not how well you do the pose, it's who you are when you do it". Wow! My interpretation of this as it pertains to yoga poses is that everyday and every moment we are different, different thoughts, different feeling, different energy. Some days I walk into a yoga class and I'm ready to go, feeling excited, fresh, and optimistic. My practice is strong with each pose energized and reflecting my self at that point of time in my day. Other times I come in feeling tired, lacking motivation, maybe feeling weighted down. In those moments I don't attempt to push a powerful practice but rather motions that are more calm and gentle, giving myself freedom to just be there, without judgement. The practice should not be the same every time you show up, but rather a reflexion of who you are when you show up.

The concept obviously has direct parallel to our daily lives. Furthermore, by understanding more of who you are throughout our lives requires a turning inward and asking where you are at that time, in that moment, and are you being sincere to yourself and to others. I know this concept makes sense to people, everyone nods their heads, yea you get it but do you do it. I'm not free from inaccurately portraying myself at times and I struggle with being genuine all the time but meeting people who overtly and almost dramatically do not act or represent their true self makes having personal connections limited and meaningful relationships few. I just can't get past people not presenting their authentic self, and it's so obvious, I can only imagine the look on my face when I interact with these people. As I said in my last post, it's the guy/gal in the yoga class that is always trying to impress everyone with advanced postures and sacrificing form for the glory, that is not yoga, not in posture and not in spirit. Why do people embellish personal qualities, their achievements, and have strong attachments to trivial possessions? Maybe they can't go inside and realize they are special simply as they are. I'm disenchanted by these individuals but I don't entirely fault them, I chalk it up the the possibility that life (society, family, personal struggles) has influenced them and somewhere inside is that special child that once danced while everyone watched fearing no judgement in being nothing but organic. With that said, people have the tools for personal growth and rediscovery but it's challenging to ask some very intense questions and then face hard truths all for the benefit of loving oneself. I'll just say it again, being sincere to yourself and others requires you asking yourself the question, "who am I right now and am I representing that person", or are you escaping to be someone else? Its an awareness, it's a process, you'll never arrive but that shouldn't stop you from tying.

So, this concludes another episode of "Deep Thoughts" by Anna Pees. (Please look up that comedic reference if you are not familiar, too good!)

Last of my yoga talks, I'm headed to the beach next for a short stay to get certified in scuba diving then on to Singapore!

Anna

The road to yoga

journeyjane — Fri, 5 May 2017 17:00:00 GMT

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia
04/05/2017

The road to yoga

Ventured into a yoga studio today, my first time since about two years ago when I did a few classes at Core Power Yoga in Denver. Yoga is no stranger to this body. I initially started as a teenager going to a few classes in an old church in the old west Lawrence area (Kansas), I believe this was one of the town's first organized classes

. This was my mom's idea to start yoga, she thought it would help me with the emotional troubles I had just begun to experience. From there I was introduced to Bikram yoga while in college in Tucson, Arizona. I was somewhat of an exercise junky at this stage in my life and the vigorous, hot yoga was definitely my next vice. I practiced most days of the week and my body quickly adapted to the 26 posture series. As with all things done in excess, my interest started to fade. I graduated and moved to NYC where my yoga practice was moderately active since I couldn't refuse the free classes at the gym where I worked. As I continued to move around the country, back to Kansas then Massachusetts then Texas, my interest and practice was minimal. I knew most postures and series but lacked motivation to stand alone in a quiet room, focus on my breath and move. For me, a class was the best way to hold myself accountable beyond a ten minute practice, but finding the right class and instructor then became another factor that impeded the practice. Eventually in Austin, TX I found a class that had recently become a new yoga fad, hot vinyasa. This class was perfect for me since it was warm like Bikram, giving the sweaty, cleansing experience, yet it moved beyond Bikram with the vinyasa component, which in my opinion was more dynamic and mimicking movement closer to daily life activities. The class appealed to me mostly by adding both stretching with a vigorous exercise. So again, the exercise addict was back! This sustained the short period I lived in Texas, then vet school called with a once in a lifetime opportunity and just like that yoga and I were done. I can't remember attending a yoga class in Manhattan, KS during vet school. I was never a fan of attending university recreation center yoga classes where an 18 year old college student guided me through positions adding some pearls of enlightened insight. Unfortunately, my distaste for false superficial wisdom worsened and further prevented me from attending classes. I guess my thought process went like this: yoga as most westerners know it (and I will refer to people in the U.S.) is simply stretching or stretching exercise. Most classes are not taught by an old Indian guy but rather a westerner trained through a yoga training course. A portion of the training courses are dedicated to yoga philosophy but barely scratch the surface of the thousands of years of tradition mixed with religion. So my first beef that prevents me from going to yoga classes is the instructor imparting to me interpreted wisdoms gained from a teacher training course. Apart from "hey everyone, focus on yourself and your practice, and be kind to your body today," I'm easily irritated by anything else. I'm here to stretch, not become enlightened in 1 hour. I know, I know, some people benefit from these reminders and reinforcement in their life via twice weekly yoga classes, I do not. My second beef with yoga classes: while everyone has just nodded their heads in agreement to the solid "turn within yourself" wisdom to start the class, there remains the stable groups of hypocrites that then overtly demonstrate their yoga skills by displaying positions that clearly indicate they 1) skipped a few intermediate steps going for the gold and will pay for it in a few years and 2) clearly have no other hobbies in life or other avenues for self affirmation. Is it too much to ask for a yoga studio with a bunch of old hippies wearing everything from pajamas to gardening clothes that giggle about the person in class trying to show up Yanni's flute with their butt whistle?

While I believe theses aspects of westernized yoga prevent me from practicing theses days, I know that these are just excuses and not sound arguments either. I can't remember when it started but at some point along the way yoga began to make me very uncomfortable. First it was attributed to the camel posture. The intense opening of the front of my chest and stomach started to make me nauseous. It got to the point where the dizziness began just setting up for the position. Later I began to notice that any hip opening posture made me emotionally teary eyed. I tried to embrace both postures and be open to the energy that was trying to move, unfortunately I was not consistent enough to move past it. Finally, savasana became a problem, I'd lie there just fighting off tears. I'm not sure what I was thinking about or feeling or if it was related to anything at all. I'm not sure I care to spend a lot of time trying to figure it out at this point.

My return to yoga started today. The class was situated in something like an octagonal tree house. The tropical air was warm and my skin already sticky. There were only three of us in the class, the instructor was pleasant, and my intention was merely that of discovery today, a checking in. The practice was overall slow and I honored the recommendation to use all the support materials, blocks, strap, bolster, and blanket. I was pleased to hear my brain say things like, "oh look at that", "wow that's tight", "hey that feels pretty good". My judgement was not present for that 1.5 hr class, very unusual for me. Now savasana, tears came and the breath became difficult to slow. I was thinking about all that has happened the last two years, starting with the loss of Roxi (immediate tears), thinking about how tired I had become and ready to check out on multiple occasions, how my body had just coiled up as if protecting myself but ended up causing physical pain and buried emotions, and lastly how I need to try and allow some healing to occur but that I can't force health and this will be slow and require only patience and self love.

So with that, my breathing slowed and the tears stopped. I didn't make plans for this trip despite every hard wire in my mind telling me to do so. I need to ask first what I need then make accommodations as needed. I think I will stay here awhile, try some more yoga. I'm of a science mind but I can't help but ask if my recent and uncomfortable experiences with yoga are related to my body holding on to a lot of emotional trauma. Were that to be the case and regardless of the what or why of the trauma, it makes sense to ask the body to first let go by providing the path (possibly yoga in this case) then see what is released. Anything beyond that would only be presumptive and not worth the time to entertain those thoughts.

Balinese Unwinding

journeyjane — Thu, 4 May 2017 11:00:00 GMT

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia
04/05/2017

Upon arrival in Bali, I felt it necessary to investigate the traditional Balinese massage. Overseas travel, two full days being twisted up and all fluids being wrung out, demands the need for body work.
At the Taiwan airport I had attempted to get a head of the game and try to schedule something for when I arrive in Bali. First rule, do not try to schedule anything based upon unknown time frames, which basically means don't plan until you are there. I'm fortunate the massage place was unable to fit me in as I didn't account for travel traffic to Ubud or the little side stop the driver and I took to chow on some Bakso.
After settling in at the Homestay, I decided just to take a walk and see if any random place had an availability for the medieval unwinding. The first place I tried was able to see me. A very beautiful and small Balinese girl ushered me to the room and gave some minimal changing directions (basically put on these hair net underwear and yea). I was thinking to my western self about how people in the U.S. get years of training for massage practice to be licensed and skilled, and here I am with a girl that looks no older than 18 years if that. Fortunately I knew that the obsessed notion that somehow personal slavery and time and the possession of a certificate stating you know what you are doing doesn't necessarily mean you know anything at all. So I let the centuries of tradition flow through this young woman's hands and unravel my body.
As soon as she hopped on to the table and started applying WWF-like force on my back, the popping joint song started and my body was beginning to awaken as the airflow was suddenly less restricted. From that point on my memory becomes spotty, I remember being very impressed by the strength on her 54 kg (😏) frame, I remember enjoying traditional Balinese music in the background, and I remember felling asleep on multiple occasions, waking myself, and both of us sharing a soft giggle.
I thought about writing this entry after the massage, that thought lasted less time than it took me to type it. No way was I going to sacrifice any amount of the relaxation obtained for the purpose of a journal entry, plus I'm not sure I was even in a conscious state at that time.
Moral of the story, it's a new day and Balinese massage should be had every day.
After eating this lovely Balinese breakfast, I'll be taking a stroll, trying yoga for the first time in years, and perhaps another Balinese massage.

Ready Set Go

journeyjane — Mon, 1 May 2017 13:20:00 GMT

Here's where it starts, San Francisco, CA, USA.

Lugging my Gregory pack through the airport thinking, "I don't remember this pack being so heavy. Did I actually carry this all over Costa Rica a little over 13 years ago? Wait, I haven't used this pack in 13 years? Stay calm, it will get lighter as you travel".

The truth is that it may literally get lighter but it might also get "lighter" as I cease to notice the weight when my mind is distracted by the beauty I see, the sea air I smell, and the physical strength I gain. I wanted to also say inner strength I gain but I know better. I can't have an expectation to gain something I already have, I suppose all I can expect is to gain an awareness and trust that it exists. However, even that is not a light request either, I have to continually remind myself that the constant feeling of needing to work hard and achieve or conquer does not apply to becoming more aware and accepting of the self, the battle is continual, daily. I can only hope that this "battle" will one day be known by a sweeter name and that I can have a more playful dance with the forces that cloud my view of what is already there.

In the meantime, I have thirty more minutes until I can check my pack and live lighter a little longer. Never know, putting that pack on again may already prove to be lighter (Literally? Figuratively? Hmm)