Wandering

Welcome! Bienvenido! Sa wat dee! I'm glad you're here to accompany me as I wander around the world =)

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Happy Loi Krathong!

It's hard to believe I've been experienced two consecutive Loi Krathong holidays in Thailand. That's two times more than I ever expected to pay homage to a water goddess in my life =) It just so happens that this holiday usually falls in November, due to the fact that it must correspond with the full moon in the twelfth month of the Thai lunar calendar, which brings to mind other similarities to American Thanksgiving (which, by the way, this year I spent eating roast CHICKEN at an ENGLISH pub, haha). Loi Krathong is a day of thankfulness and time spent with loved ones (many Thais who live in Bangkok go back to their hometowns in the provinces to be with their families on this day). It is one of the most beautiful festivals I've ever seen in my life. The Thais construct small rafts (krathong) out of bamboo stems, banana leaves, flowers, candles and incense to float on any available body of water to apologize to and thank Phra Mae Khongkha (the goddess of water in the Hindu tradition), and to ask her for good luck. (I like the idea of apologizing and think this is something that should generally be kept in mind for our Thanksgiving too). It is also an honor to the Buddha.

On my first Loi Krathong last year, I purposely stayed in Thailand long enough that I would be able to witness the festival in Chiang Mai. The city in the north is unique in that in addition to loi-ing krathongs, they have a tradition of "floating lanterns" (khom loi). They really go all out. There are parades with intricate floats of flowers and electric lights (every float must be followed by another vehicle carrying a generator). There are Noppamas contests- a beauty pageant to dress as Noppamas, the beautiful consort of a king long-past who floated the first krathong and inspired the king to declare the holiday. There are fireworks of all sorts going off at all hours for the entire week prior to the holiday (including loud bangs at 3am when you're trying to sleep and mid-afternoon when you're walking down the street and children launch small firecrackers at your feet to scare you). Finally, on November 4, I went with friends to dine at a restaurant on the river, which was the perfect place to gaze in wonder at the thousands of orbs of light floating in the river and sky, making the swirling, flowing patterns seem like mirror images gliding across the twin shining surfaces. We finished dinner and went down to the river to launch the krathong that we had purchased, made a customary wish, and watched as our rafts floated away, hoping they would not capsize within our view so that our wishes would be preserved. Later we tracked down a khom loi and, standing and holding on as a group, released it into the night sky to join its twinkling would-be star sisters.

This year, I may have gained even more merit by making my own krathong and ensuring it was made of mostly natural materials. A Canadian teacher and our Thai events coordinator teamed up for an arts and crafts Social Club, where students were provided all the materials for making krathong. Many of our Thai students were old pros and quickly designed beautiful rafts with many tiers of banana leaves folded into origami-esque shapes. They were more than happy to then help our Japanese students, and myself =) I couldn't do the folding fast enough so one woman passed me banana leaves she had already creased and I pinned them to the bamboo stem in a pattern that resembled a forest king's crown. I added purple orchids and a marigold, along with a candle and three sticks of incense. We then went to Lumpini, the Central Park of Bangkok, and together with thousands of other people, placed the krathong into the water. I did alright as far as my wish last year, so I'm hoping for even better luck this year. Happy Loi Krathong =D

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Bangkok is...

view from my first apartment
I know it may seem as if I have disappeared into Thailand... in fact, the Big Mango (Bangkok) does have a certain absorbant effect (this is actually pretty necessary during the rainy season to minimize flooding). I feel like I've been on a moving sidewalk (or possibly one of the escalators I ride everyday)... not really rushing or speeding, but also not stopping. I've been here two months and I still feel like I'm in the process of settling in. One of the lessons I teach is "What's it like?" in which I ask students, "What's Bangkok like?" I think the students' answers may provide some insight into my experience here thus far.
"Bangkok is traffic jam." -Not grammatically correct perhaps, but telling nonetheless. This city of around 10 million people is unbelievably busy. It is difficult to walk down the uneven sidewalk due to both the sheer number of people and the mass of street stalls piled on top of each other that they stop to shop at. Traffic really is horrible, so I stick to the Skytrain and motorbike taxis (By now, I've become a pro at riding side-sadle in a skirt. I even rode with another passenger recently for the first time- only for a short distance!)
"Bangkok is hot." -The weather here ranges usually ranges from hot to inferno. Now that the rainy season has tapered off into "winter" the climate has become milder, though by no means could it be described as cool. Breezes are a blessing that merits much appreciation, and I have ducked into a convenience store on more than one occassion just to get some relief (7-11 always feels like a refridgerator). Unfortunately the combination of heat, humidity, and pollution is not my preferred consistency of air. Funky smells are preserved and waft out of unexpected places as I pass by, and mold grows rapidly in my bathroom and kitchen. At least I never have to question the temperature of the pool at my condo- I can just jump right in, being assured of the refreshing effect of the water.
Giant photo of a past king in the mall
"Bangkok is modern." -I work in the heart of downtown, on the 16th floor of Siam Tower, which has a 360 degree view of the city. Our language school is surrounded by no less than 5 multi-story malls. I hop off the Skytrain and walk right through one of them to get to the school. The school I worked at before my transfer was actually inside a mall! My new apartment is a condo with a pool, internet, and entertainment system. I really love my comfortable little oasis in the midst of all the chaos.
There seems to be something for everyone in this city, especially in the way of nighttime entertainment. I can add to my checklist salsa-dancing at a 5-star hotel, wine-tasting at a restaurant with it's own private lake in the middle of the city, drinking tea under a tent in a garden at a Middle Eastern spa, various rooftop pool parties, company Halloween party at an amusement park, several hi-so parties sponsored by different liquor companies, and eating at countless restaurants with mind-blowing menus (new favorite cuisine: Burmese). Many of these things were free or cheap as well!
"Bangkok is convenient." -Any need or want can be easily fulfilled here in Bangkok. There is street food available practically 24 hours a day, there is a 7-11 every few blocks, grocery and superstores compete for the lowest prices, the Skytrain and subway manage to cover most of the city with buses, taxis, and motorbikes making up for the in-between, pirated DVDs are sold on every corner, international restaurants can be found everywhere, including McDonald's, which delivers (!?), public or private transport can take you out of the city to beaches or forests within a few hours, English-speakers are abundant in certain areas, and the airport is close and even connected to downtown by another line of the Skytrain! The only danger here is becoming spoiled by the instant-gratification, or if you are foreigner, sometimes being treated like a D-list celebrity (friends and I were put on the red carpet at a Grey Goose event). 
Restrictions on the subway
"Bangkok is confusing." -The second day I was in the city, I went to a salon in the mall I first worked in. I explained that I wanted my hair black, even pointed to a black swatch, and somehow it turned out blond! That was a low moment for me, because I had no one I could call in that moment (seriously, how have I become so paranoid about my hair?), but it was easily changed back. Another night, I was in the car with some Thai women from work, but the driver was not used to going downtown. We missed our turn and it took us an hour to do a loop, owing to so much traffic. We later joked that we had actually driven out of the city to the beach that night. 
"Bangkok is nice." -I enjoy my students. They are respectful and fun and I enjoy spending time with them. The challenge will be to get to know them better, because the school functions like a language machine- input English, test, send down the line. They really do receive quality instruction, so I am happy about that, but I would like to see the same students more frequently. While this is not "traditional" teaching, it has already helped me realize that I'm really looking forward to future opportunities when I can truly commune with students. The other teachers here immediately merged me into their family, no questions asked. They are extremely friendly and interesting people who I enjoy spending time with. There are even two other teachers from Wisconsin! I am hoping that having friends around will make not being able to be home for the holidays more bearable.I'm quite happy with my home away from home!

Back to Bangkok + trip to Khao Yai National Park


I had a very interesting first week getting settled in here. I had been told to be here by Sept 4 in order to start training on Sept 6, so Monday morning I was all prepared to go. After a long commute on foot, subway and skytrain (made longer by getting turned around frequently), I arrived at the head office. As it turns out, my orientation was little more than a powerpoint presentation, and then they sent me home because the director of my branch was not able to come meet me as planned. "Oh and we don't have anything for you for Tuesday so just go in to your center on Wednesday."


Another day of unpacking and then I did it all over again to reach my center. I met the manager and observed some classes, after which I was again told there was no training for me to do... until the following Monday! The other news that was dropped on me was that I would actually be working at a different center for the first month! That center was short one teacher so I would be helping out there until they could bring in a replacement in October. The only good things about this was that it was closer to the apartment I had been put in (which otherwise was a very random location) and that I had met the teachers there on Tuesday just because I happened to stop by. Needless to say I felt quite frustrated on my ride home that day. I decided that to reduce boredom and anxiety, and also because it would probably be my last chance to get out of the city for awhile, I decided to go to Khao Yai National Park.

The public bus to get there took only just over two hours (a time period I now consider short for transportation). My guest house sent a shuttle to pick me up at the bus station- a deal I got for purchasing a trek. I settled in and went to sleep very early, owing to the last remnants of jet-lag and the fact that I needed to be up early the next morning. At 7am I was ready to go, jumped in the truck with a few other trekkers, laced up our leech socks (a necessary precaution during the rainy season), and we were off. Our guide had grown up in the town near Khao Yai and knew exactly where to look for animals. As we wound through the dense forest and attempted to avoid slipping in the mud (fail!), we came across spiders, scorpions, and giant millipedes. We almost ran right into a venomous green snake that was luckily pretty groggy, due to being noctural, and not to mention busy digesting the previous evening's meal. Suddenly, we heard a sound overhead like a fleet of helicopters rushing in- it was actually the beating of the powerful wings of one of the species of hornbill native to the park. Later we heard hooting ricochetting off the trees and followed it to find a family of gibbons using their long arms and legs to swim through the highest layer of the leafy canopy.

Even though we didn't see any elephants, the excursion was memorable, and best of all... just what I needed for relaxing. I befriended a family from Pennsylvania and exchanged travel stories and jokes with them the entire time. We swam under a massive waterfall, just out of sight of a sign that may or may not (but definitely did) say "No Swimming". I ran into a ballet of blue butterflies at the park where we ate lunch and filmed them as monkeys looked on in lust after our food. We walked down a paved path that ended in 23849890741 stairs (it was a lot ok!) to see another waterfall, and then had to hike all the way back up... taking frequent breaks, of course. I was exhausted by the end of the day but felt amazing- I had gotten to breathe fresh air, exercise in multiple ways (hiking, swimming, climbing trees and... does involuntary mud-sliding count?) and have good conversation with real live human beings for practically the first time since I had landed (that's what I get for not understanding Thai yet). AND my leech removing skills (grabbing them, rolling into a ball and flicking them away) apparently reached a professional level- I was one of the only trekkers who didn't get bit! More getaways necessary- pronto!

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Cuentos de Costa Rica- Puro Paseo AGAIN! ♬ the Ballad of los Come-Huevos ♬


Pri, Mary, Luis y yo!
It seems I am always on vacation in Costa Rica (well of course I am, because I’m sure as hell not working!)  I’ve been actively traveling since I arrived, and that is due to the intrepid spirit of my compañeros aventureros. I was invited to go with Pri, Luis, and their friends to a place they spoke of with great excitement- La Fortuna in the region of San Carlos.  We would be staying for a few nights in a cabin outside of a town in a rural province, a base from which to set out for the incredible natural formation there…

Volcan Arenal
The car journey took a few hours, and my friends noticed that I was exceptionally quiet the entire time. I had to explain with some embarrassment that, although I did know Spanish, I had NO IDEA what they had been saying! It then dawned on them that they had been speaking in almost pure Costa Rican slang… they could not stop laughing! We arrived at our cabin and unloaded our belongings, but we were eager to go see what we came there for. So we packed some snacks and drove to find a spot for come-huevos- literally: “egg-eaters,” it means experiencing for free what you would otherwise have to pay for (they finally started teaching me the slang!) We used this phrase a LOT during the trip, as by the end of it we had fully converted into come-huevos. My initiation began in a spot along the road where we could see the dominating feature of the landscape: a 5,358 ft high cindercone volcano rising sharply and dramatically from the otherwise flat terrain, the impressive Volcán Arenal. We then drove to the national park to do some hiking. At the entrance, I passed for Costa Rican and thus got in to the park for free! (come-huevos strike again!) We spent awhile there and took some amazing photos of the volcano and then went back to the cabin to eat and prepare for what we had planned that night.

We drank some birras (Costa Rican for “cervezas,” don’tcha know) and made our way back to the volcano to try to see an eruption. We were extremely lucky that the summit wasn’t obscured by clouds, as that is the case on almost every other day of the year. From our viewpoint in the national park, we could see the crater ringed in fiery shades of red, orange, and yellow. However, there wasn’t much activity. Mariana decided that we couldn’t just sit around and hope something would happen; she took matters into her own hands. She began a very entertaining lava chant. We all laughingly joined in and, surprisingly enough, the gods of geothermal energy answered! Hot lava burst diagonally out of the top and bounced thousands of feat down the peak, explosive splashes of color igniting the side of the mountain. We squealed in delight and celebrated our success with dancing and of course more drinks!

The next day we headed to the hot springs! A magma-heated river flows away from the base of Arenal, and as a result several resorts have set up shop, purchasing this land and charging for access to the heated water. Again, the come-huevos foiled capitalist intentions. We drove along and looked out for more of our kind… cars parked on the side of the road indicated their location. We pulled up and found a whole bunch of come-huevos! We all went down to the stream, which didn’t have paved walkways or railings to hold onto while getting in the water, but this didn’t deter us because we were happy to be in untouched (and free) nature!

la poza
Later on we did give in and buy a day-pass to one of the resorts. We had previewed another one and weren’t impressed- we explained this to the proprietors in a conversation made quite awkward by the fact that we had a farting machine in the car (funny in any language!) We decided on the most famous resort, reluctantly legitimizing its claim to this natural resource, but wow was it cool! It had dozens of pools of varying temperatures and we thoroughly enjoyed soaking in them. But we could not deny for long our come-huevos customs. We had seen another place along a bridge where several cars were parked, although we had no idea why. Our curiosity overcame us and we stopped to investigate. There, 30 feet or so under the bridge, was a waterfall! The rushing water had also created a poza (swimming spot) a deep pool perfect for swimming. The other people there were locals, who explained that they came almost every day, and showed us all the secrets to enjoying our time there- a rope swing you could throw yourself off of into the water, a place on the waterfall you could stand and jump from, even a way to get under the waterfall by alternately swimming and pulling yourself along the sheer rock wall against the strong current. We spent hours there amusing ourselves, and even went back again the next day!

The entire trip was great- the sights and activities themselves were amazing- but it was made all the more fun by the fun-loving company I kept … and also I am now a professional “egg-eater” =)

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Cuentos de Costa Rica- Puro Paseo

I'd like to offer some "snapshots" into what I've been up to, because every day here has been amazing =)

puesta del sol
-Went on my first solo "paseo" (literally: "pass-time"… in English, think "excursion"). As per the suggestion of my adopted family here, I took a bus to Manuel Antonio, a tourist beach next to a National Park of the same name. Set back in the trees, my second-floor wooden hotel room was scorching. The only relief could be found right by the water's edge. I found a stretch of beach that was somewhat calm, away from the chaos of the expensive restaurants and bars and the package-vacation crowds that frequent them (my "Mami" had sent me with enough fruit and sandwiches to last the days I would be there so that I could avoid having to pay steep prices for my meals). I laid down in the shade of the palm trees and held a staring contest with an arm-length iguana perched near me while listening to the waves crashing against the shore. I stayed until sunset, which was of course gorgeous (I am seriously spoiled for how many sunsets-on-the-beach I have experienced in my life). 

playa del Parque Manuel Antonio
-The next day I woke up early to get to the park before it was hot. I was shocked that I appeared to be the only person who was not in a tour-group. Guides carried their telescopes and set them up for sloth viewings. I never saw a sloth while I was there, but the other wildlife wouldn't disappoint me. I made my way down the trail and suddenly a small bejeweled beach appeared out of the palms, its sparkling aquamarine water calmly brushing the sand. The water was surprisingly warm and I floated in the waves for awhile until I noticed activity on the shore. A band of white-faced capuchin monkeys had come to entertain the beach-goers with their antics! They played and lazed around in the trees, some of the bolder ones even coming down to the ground to have a look at the people. But it wasn't the people they were interested in; it was their food. My lunchtime picnic was punctuated by pairs of eyes intently watching me eat. I spent the entire day on that beach, alternately reading and taking dips in the crystal water, later taking a long walk back to my cabin along the beach, trying to remain in the shadow of the trees to prevent sunburn. I enjoyed my short time in that gorgeous place, and then it was back to mi familia and Chepe (San Jose’s affectionate nickname).


capuchin cansado (tal vez perezoso)

Tito, Mary y yo en la Volcan Poas

-Tito knocked on my door at 7am. "You want to go to a volcano?" My excitement was only partially dulled by my grogginess. I showered quickly and got into the car and we were off: me, Tito, Mariana, her mom, and her mom's boyfriend. On the drive we stopped to buy some beautiful fresh strawberries that were grown on the mountain. They were demolished by the time we reached the summit. Volcán Poás is one of the only volcanoes in the world where you can drive almost all the way to the crater. It has earned the nickname as the "World's Biggest Geyser" because it nearly constantly spews a smoke of sulfuric acid. The rancid smell did not have the chance to detract much from the sight though. Wildflowers in hues of purple and pink grew around the rim and acrobatic swallows twirled and dove from invisible trapeze to catch unseen insects. The combination of smoke and clouds finally cleared for several moments to reveal a cyan colored lake in the crater below.

el bosque nuboso
-From that crater we hiked to its inactive brother on a trail through a very unique mossy forest. Trees twisted around each other like gnarled fingers intertwined, not aggressive or overbearing but in perfect harmony. Silence was strung between the branches like a spider's web, catching conversation and stopping it dead. We emerged at the edge of the crater overlooking a lake, this time filled with actual water. The forest crept down over the side to stand mesmerized by its own reflection at the water's edge. A group of nuns were gathered at the overlook and we decided to go talk to them and ask them where they were from. The women were of the order of the Missionaries of Charity, established by Mother Theresa of Calcutta, and the group represented all of the countries in Central America and many from further abroad as well. The woman we spoke to was from India and had spent much time with Mother Theresa towards the end of her life. We spent more time talking with her about Costa Rica and traveling before we headed back to our car.

el lago volcánico
-On the way back home, we decided to make a detour to a waterfall garden. While we were driving it soon became apparent that the landscape had gone through a change recently. My companions informed me that only one year ago a major earthquake had devastated the area, including a landslide that had wiped out a small town. The family I stayed with had worked in their community to collect relief items (food, blankets, etc.) and brought them to the area for the people who had been affected by the quake. They told a story of a factory which had to shut down its production as a result of the disaster, which would have meant the loss of hundreds of jobs for the local people. However, instead of packing up and relocating, the company saved the jobs for the workers and the whole community worked to speedily re-start production. I was very inspired by this story. Although it was evident that there was a lot of work to be done, I had no doubt that this community, along with wider support from their country, would be able to get back on its feet before too long. We arrived at our destination, a torrent of white water, loud and fast, falling hundreds of feet from its origin, against a backdrop of a dark cliff face covered with brilliant green plants that spilled over the rocks like runny oil-paints. We posed for funny pictures and avoided sliding in the muddy trail. Then, lamenting the end of our "paseo", we got back in the car and drove home to the city.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Cuentos de Costa Rica- Now about that rich coast...


los surfeos
On Sunday, I went with the oldest cousin Tito, his mom, and his girlfriend Mariana to the beach. Jacó is a very small town that nevertheless sees a lot of action due to its proximity to San Jose. This day there were not too many people stationed on the dark sand and therefore it was perfect! Mariana taught me how to use a boogie board in the ocean waves. Catching the waves (or rather, the waves catching me) was extremely thrilling. I even screamed in surprise at one point when I found my board pointed downward instead of parallel as a wave pushed me all the way back to the water’s edge. Later, Mariana told everyone how I was “having as much fun as a little kid!”

las puntadas de Mary
After eating a picnic lunch, we decided to have a surf lesson with Tito. Mariana and I followed him into the water. Mariana, who has done surfing a bit before, went first. She practiced standing up, something that I could picture taking a long time to learn. After one such effort she came out from under the surf and started making her way back to us in deeper water. Suddenly, the board that was attached to her ankle bucked up into the air on top of a wave and came crashing down on her face! She stood still for a moment, looking a bit dazed, but seemed to be no worse for the wear. Suddenly, blood started gushing out from a cut on the bridge of her nose. We ran for her, and Tito helped her back to the beach. We doctored her as best we could, cleaning the wound with water, using napkins and ice to stop the bleeding. When it had stopped and we were able to see the wound more clearly, it was apparent she would need stitches. Tito took her to a nearby hospital and we all waited for them to come back. So I didn’t get to surf, nor would I have wanted to anymore that day, but I was content to play in the waves.

I had been trying to stay out of the sun all day but I would be leaving with my usual souvenir from every visit to a beach: a painful red sunburn. Before we left, we took a drive up a hill to a lookout point. The hill itself was heavily forested and as night was approaching we could hear many birds and insects singing serenades. Native animals frolicked in beautiful stone reliefs that lined the dirt road. We then walked along another smaller path through the jungle until it opened into a long and elliptical balcony painted and set with white tiles. Stairs wove in and out and up and down, the railings adorning them like lace trim. An electrical cord with a few lit bulbs was strung across the length of the structure; where it would provide light in the space of half an hour, it now only served to contribute to the charming atmosphere. The view was incredible, the balcony and tree branches providing a frame for what could not be enclosed. My sight stumbled and rolled down the hill to the beach, laid out in front of me like an infinite-course meal; my eyes could not eat and drink enough of the spread.

I declared I would like to live there forever, even if I must bring a tent. Actually, it is already a house, or the skeleton of one, and skeleton is the correct word to use, for there is a rumor that the Italian who left the house unfinished just up and vanished, possibly taken away by the police. But enough of the macabre. From here we watched the sunset, a red glowing orb sinking down into chalky blue water. Then we got into the car to drive “home,” as I’m all too easily starting to think of San Jose. On the way, I related some of the tales of my travels. My companions listened patiently to my stories that probably took more than twice as long as it would take a native speaker to relate them, and then they were still gracious enough to praise me by saying how well I spoke Spanish!
Mami y yo
Buena gente- good people. Good people are why I keep doing this, packing up and getting out into the world larger than my home state and country, putting myself in unfamiliar places, experiencing levels of discomfort varying from slight to great. Good people are why I only spent one night in a hotel the entire month I was in India. Good people are why I kept going, staying away three more months than planned and visiting four more countries than I originally intended. Good people are who first inspired me to leave (twice!) and who encouraged me to continue despite difficulties faced. Good people are why I travel. I mean sure there’s also a lot of cool stuff to see, but I never would go see them or enjoy them half as much if it weren’t for the people who sent me or found me there. I’m so pleased to say I’m staying with some of the best right now =)

Monday, February 15, 2010

Cuentos de Costa Rica (stories from Costa Rica)

I have been in Costa Rica only a short while, and although I have just seen the Coast for the first time yesterday, I had already been experiencing the Rich-ness daily since my arrival ;) My friend Claudia’s cousins picked me up at the airport. Pri, who I had been communicating with by email, gave me a hug and as we drove provided helpful orientation to the city. The family received me into the house with the warmest of welcomes and showed me to my own room! (which had actually been appropriated from the youngest brother, Luis). The next day poor Luis also drove me around to do errands. When I changed money in the bank the teller only spoke to me in Spanish; I was pleasantly surprised that I could complete the transaction with not even a day’s warm-up!

The next few days were spent planning and carrying out job interviews. Again Luis drove me to both of them and even waited for me for 45 minutes at each one! I really do not deserve this much kindness. The interviews went well- I was offered both jobs! Now I just need to complete a third interview today and then it seems I will have my pick =) The cousins have spent significant time with me taking me around. I was able to get my fix of the English language in healthy doses as they all spoke English very well (I never realized I’d be so grateful for this, but when adjusting to a new country that one has just moved to, it is very helpful to be able to speak one’s native language, not only for logistics but also for emotional support). Luis drove me around downtown pointing out landmarks. Pri took me with her on the bus so that I could get to know the mind-boggling process of transferring =/ They both explained Costa Rican directions over and over to no avail; I still don’t get it. *Example: this section of that neighborhood, 50 meters south and 75 east of the field, the yellow house on the right with orange trim. Yes that’s the “address” of the house here!

Tomorrow for my interview I will need to get on the bus to go downtown, then I need to walk to the park past a church and stay on the side of the bank to find the green buses that say they’re going to Hospital Mexico. I will tell the driver to drop me off at the Toyota dealer and then head east, away from another park, until I see a Subway (the American sandwich chain, not an underground train), then I turn right and walk 200 meters south and the building is there across from yet another park. What a headache! I have to pysch myself up more for arriving at the interview than for the interview itself! While this all might seem ridiculously confusing right now, I know that in a few months I will probably be a pro at using the buses and determining directions and I won’t know what I ever thought was so difficult about it.

On the weekend the cousins invited me out with their friends. One unforgettable meal was an extremely greasy (and extremely delicious!) empanada filled with chicharrón (fried pork rinds). This alone could be the deciding factor in whether I can ever become a full-time vegetarian. I tried out different combinations of sauces and condiments on the divine morsels: lemon juice from lemons that are green with a light orange interior, only slightly sweeter than yellow lemons; a sweet tomato salsa that I liked best; a mix of carrots and cabbage that had an almost clear sauce dripped over them, disguising the reality of its spiciness; and a Costa Rican favorite, salsa Lizano- a brown sauce in a bottle that is both spicy and sweet and smells delicious due to its quantity of cumin, which Pri assured me would not be good with chicharrón but which I was determined to try regardless (result: not bad!).

Indeed it’s hard to go wrong with the food here. Claudia’s aunt Vilma (originally from El Salvador) is a very good cook and we often eat meat flavored by various succulent seasonings. But there are two staples that I eat everyday that would be sufficient for me even though they are not considered main dishes. The first is gallo pinto; the second, maduros. Gallo pinto is a mix of red beans that have been cooked in, you guessed it, salsa Lizano, along with plain white rice (¡Qúe rico!) And then there are maduros. I think anybody who has ever had these just loves them. Sweet, firm plantains fried in oil. Simple, but soo good! And sadly, a habit I will have to kick soon (all that oil is really not good for you).

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Imagining Indonesia

November 2009

"Tell the taxi driver to take you to MOI- it's the Mall of Indonesia. We live there." My friend wasn't kidding. They actually did live in the same complex as the mall! I was visiting her and her boyfriend who I had done my teaching course with in Chiang Mai. They received me warmly, showed me my own bedroom (!) where I would be staying, and we commemorated my arrival with a bottle of Cuban rum I had picked up at the duty free store in Bangkok. During my travels, I have been very lucky to be consistently accepted into homes whose owners have never acknowledged the idiom "to overstay one's welcome." One week with them turned into three. I would tag along with them during the day to their school. (Little did I know then that this same international institution would be responsible for bringing me back to Thailand less than a year later!)

On the weekends we found one interesting excursion to do after another. We did a day-trip to Taman Mini-Indonesia, of which I was told beforehand nothing more than "it's a theme park" (the sly look on their faces told me I was in for a surprise). When we reached our destination I thought I had been tricked into going urban exploring- the park appeared abandoned, no amusement seemed to have been had in a long time. However, on closer inspection I could see that it was actually still functioning. We bought incredibly cheap tickets to enter, and then wandered around the near-deserted place, the theme of which I was now informed was a tribute to the many islands and corresponding cultures of Actual-Sized- Indonesia. We rode on the most rickety cable car ever (I very nearly kissed the ground when we exited), visited the different displays, and attempted unsuccessfully to sneak into the zoo since we didn't make it there during the one hour it was open. Overall, it was a quirky experience to say the least.

We later went to a functioning amusement park in Jakarta, which was considerably more lively. It was my first time at such at this type of entertainment venue outside of the US (complete with roller-coasters!) and I was not disappointed. Oh developed countries, why do you inhibit our fun with your concerns over safety and whatnot? If I want to get zipped into a giant plastic bubble filled with air and float on a pond then that is my prerogative, psh...

We also made a weekend journey to Yogyakarta, Jakarta's calmer relative, a culturally-oriented city 7 hours away by train. I was unpleasantly surprised that the overnight trains in Indonesia are not as nice as Thailand's (though I feel certain that nothing could ever be as bad as a third-class sleeper in India). No bunk, no pillows, no blankets- just a seat. We tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible but when we arrived early in the morning we immediately needed to sleep until noon. In the afternoon we leisurely tooled around the city, visiting the old sultan's palace and then asking directions to the sultan's famous baths, which led to a man showing us around via many footpaths weaving all over the district that we would have never found by ourselves. In addition to the baths, we visited a street where many artisans were at work applying batik designs to paintings and fabrics. We were also eventually led to the bird market we had been looking for, which actually had every kind of animal imaginable, not just birds- pet monkey/owl/bat/lizard anyone? Except it's not recommended that you buy any animals from there because the conditions in which they're kept are pretty bad =/ We took a carriage ride back to our hotel, as we were concerned that the horses also seemed to not have been fed enough.

The next day, my friends were content to relax in the city and explore a bit by motorbike, but I wanted to make the most of my time there to see two famous monuments nearby. I bought a seat in a van that would take me to one and then another. I was taken first to Borobudur, the largest Buddhist monument in the world, dating back to the 9th century. It was indeed very large, and standing atop it I was never unimpressed by the view from any angle. A group of sweet, polite school children approached me to ask me some questions to practice their English. I was happy to oblige them... at first. It turns out that a veritable ant colony of students had swarmed all over the monument, hunting me down every two minutes and cornering me to answer the same questions. After the fourth time, I was well over it. After the twenty-seventh time I felt like I was losing my mind. Luckily we were soon on our way to the next stop, Prambanan, a Hindu temple built around the same time as the Buddhist one (yes, they are both located in an almost exclusively Muslim country). Mentally exhausted from the last monument, I walked briskly through the temple grounds and basked in the fact that I was alone. Then it was back to Yogya to meet my friends and get on the train back to Jakarta. On the train journey back I sat next to a woman who was from Aceh, the province on the Northern tip of Sumatra that was devastated in the 2004 tsunami. More than a third of the deaths from that event (over 100,000 people) occurred there. The woman explained that she had been in Jakarta at the time but she had lost over 15 family members that day. I can't imagine the sorrow she still faces on a daily basis, just shy of five years later...

My last getaway in Indonesia was undertaken alone. There was only a week left in my Asian adventure before I would return to America... exactly 5 months later! Hadn't I planned to be away for 2 months, 3 at the max? It was all worth it. And it would also be worth it to surprise my family in time for Thanksgiving =) But I still had a week to cap off my trip and I wanted to do something awesome, so I booked a short flight... to Bali!!! I landed and set about finding a hostel. The first night I was unlucky to have picked one very near a club and thus got almost no sleep (when backpacking, you win some, you lose some). But for the next few nights I found a very peaceful cluster of rooms near the beach. I spent the next few days laying on the sand and playing in the very high waves. I was tempted to take a surfing lesson but I had a minimal amount of money to last me the next few days. I wasn't bothered though because I told myself I would learn to surf eventually (promise kept!) Instead, I took a day-trip to Ubud, a small town in the interior of Bali. I met a girl from Guatemala and together we had a nice lunch, did some souvenir shopping crowded-Asian-market-style (my last time!), and then visited one of the main sights the town has to offer- the Monkey Forest!

A sign advised would-be wayfarers that under absolutely NO circumstances whatsoever should they bring any food into the grove, so I made sure that I had nothing edible in the small backpack I was carrying. I was surprised by how big the place was, trails winding all around, leading to sculptures, structures, a tiny waterfall in a river, and of course, monkeys! The macaques were not the most beautiful of simians, but their antics endeared them to observers. I made  the mistake of passing too close to a place where a larger one was perched; it jumped on my shoulder, a strategic position from which to attempt a robbery. I remained calm (a trip to Gibraltar had given me experience with surprise primate passengers) as it tried and tried to open my backpack, to no avail. However it refused to give up, and I began to worry whether this determined fellow would ever disembark. Furthermore, he was heavy! I sat down near a tree and waited until he finally bailed. I later discovered the reason why he was so bent on getting into my bag- I had left a pack of gum in there!

Bali was very beautiful. I wished I didn't have to leave. For that matter, I wished I wasn't leaving Asia at all. But it was time to go. I had come to know myself in ways I never expected. I had stayed away from my home for the longest period in my life! And ultimately, I was prepared to deal with the uncertainty of the future, only knowing that it would most certainly take me abroad again!

Friday, January 15, 2010

Tales from Thailand- Bus Journey Backfire Part I

November 2009

I boarded the "Friendship Bus" from Vientiane, Laos to Udon Thani, Thailand (final destination: Chiang Mai) and immediately realized that I was the only non-Lao, non-Thai person on board. My friend who also stayed in Chiang Mai had done this exact same trip two days prior and assured me that it was a cheaper, better way to get back to that city than taking one of the chartered tourist buses. I secured my luggage in the cargo area underneath the bus and we were on our way. The bus stopped at Laotian border, which happened to be directly in front of the Mekong River. Everyone disembarked, paid the "exit fee," got stamped through, and climbed back on the bus to cross the long "Friendship Bridge." On this side, all Lao and Thai people crossed easily through immigration, flashing some form of ID and practically walking right through. On the other hand, I was stuck waiting in line behind several other "farang" (foreigners). One couple up ahead was taking a very long time due to some problem with their paperwork. I gazed nervously at my bus waiting up ahead and wondered how long the driver would care to stay.

After about 10 minutes the couple had still not resolved their problem and the line had moved no further. I signaled to an immigration "un-official" (I'm guessing this was his job title seeing as he had a walkie-talkie but was also wearing what appeared to be a Star Wars T-shit); I gestured and said "Will my  bus wait for me?" He smiled and said "no problem," translated from "mai pen rai" which Thais use for so many everyday situations. I had been making conversation with the French family in front of me, 4 people total, and now began to voice my worries aloud to them in the hopes that maybe they would be understanding of my predicament and allow me to skip them in line. No such luck. The family waited and then presented all of their passports to the official. While he was carefully examining the first child's passport, I watched in horror as my bus pulled away. My large backpack- containing all of the minimal personal possessions I had to my name on this side of the world- was on that bus without me!

The plain-clothes immigration guy came to my aid. He could see my stress (I was in tears) and decided to take it upon himself to help me, possibly because not two minutes earlier he had said "no problem." Not speaking much English, he gestured to me to follow him to what appeared to be his personal vehicle. Trusting my instincts, I got in and we started to drive. He made calls on his cell phone (so the radio was for ?) and tried to talk to me to assure me things would be resolved, "No worry!" We slowed down at a police outpost along the highway because he expected the bus to pull over there (explained mostly through charades). However, there was no bus to speak of, so he sped back up and we kept driving... right into Udon Thani, over 60 kilometers away (nearly an hour's drive!)

Luckily, I remembered the bus number and told him in Thai (been practicing numbers to score bargins in the market). When we reached the bus station there, he pulled up to my bus and got out to speak to the driver. He then got back in the car with a confused look on his face. I asked what happened and conveyed that my bag had been dropped off... back at the highway patrol post! So we drove alllllll the way back, until we arrived again at the post, just shy of Nong Khai where I had crossed the border. By now several hours had passed and it was starting to get dark. The immigration guy talked to the officer at the post, who then showed me my bag. Then my hero said "bye!" and started walking back to his car. I was immediately startled. I called after him "Wait!" and asked where he was going and why he was leaving me. He pointed to the highway officer "he... you... bus... English!" He smiled and took his leave. I thanked him profusely, realizing very sadly that I didn't have enough money to pay him for all his trouble.

I now turned to the other police officer (for the purpose of the rest of the story, we will refer to him as Officer Creepy). He asked me to sit down and started talking to me. Although his speech was quite broken in English, I could tell that he had quite a good understanding of the language. He asked me the usual questions of acquaintance, "What's your name? Where are you from? etc." but then started to throw in some that made me uncomfortable, mostly because of the look he had when he asked them- "You have boyfriend? What hotel you stay? How much money have?" My uneasiness intensified as he suddenly decided he should search my bag (after I had already been there for at least half an hour!) If I was a cat, my hair would have stood straight up. I was hypervigilant now, worried that he would find the US dollars I had lied about not having. Something had warned me early on to pocket those, along with my pepper spray and knife, so luckily he didn't ask me to turn out my pockets.

He concluded his search with a smile on his face, nodding over at the clock and saying "bus no come."While I had been busy paying attention to him sifting through my bag, the time of 7pm had come and gone, and with it the bus he was supposed to have flagged down for me. After phoning my friend in Chiang Mai (the same one that recommended the Friendship Bus in the first place), I grabbed my guidebook and began to search for hotels nearby, realizing I wouldn't make it to Udon Thani anymore tonight. He said "No worry, I know hotel, I take you." I insisted that I wanted to choose my own, thanks. He pointed to the office and said "No worry, you can stay. Has a bed, door has lock." This is the point where I really started to panic. I grabbed my things and headed out to the road.

What was I going to do? I had no idea, but I started to wave at passing buses, realizing that hitch-hiking was just as dangerous of an option as the current situation. Officer Creepy followed me, "Where you go? That bus go Pattaya. That bus go Bangkok." "Fine then I'll go to Bangkok!!!" I was nearly shouting now. My hysteria must have un-nerved him because finally he said "Ok ok, we go see a police officer." There's been another police officer here the whole time?!?! 

To be continued...

Friday, January 1, 2010

Lingering in Laos- On a Slow Boat to... Nowhere in Particular

It had sounded like a good idea: a leisurely ride down the scenic Mekong River, two days soaking up the pristine natural beauty of the remote wilderness from the relaxing vantage point of an aptly named “slow boat.” The journey came highly recommended by many others I had met so far in my travels. The first time I heard someone speak of it, a picture of serene vistas and uninhibited relaxation etched itself into my mind and refused to leave. The only solution to appease the desire was to actually attempt the passage.

The opportunity presented itself when it became apparent that I would have to do a border run to get a new Thai visa. Myanmar was closer but I had a friend in Laos who was teaching in the capital, and this fact, coupled with the chance to take the slow boat, easily persuaded me to venture into this country to the east. Getting to and across the border was relatively hassle-free. When I set foot on the opposite bank of the Mekong, I was sure I knew what to expect. It turned out (as it so often has while I’ve been in on this trip) that I had been quite mistaken in my presumptions. I saw the boat and experienced yet another moment of horror/hilarity as I realized, “This is what I’ll be traveling in?!”

I now understood that the next 48 hours would probably not be the most comfortable of my life. I could not even begin to imagine how more than 100 passengers would a) fit on the boat and b) stay that way for two days without deteriorating into insanity. I had guessed that the chairs would be wooden and accordingly had brought a cushion. Only I had also thought that the seats would be the size of a normal chair or bench; instead, the pitiful perch was a 2”x 4”! I opted for floor space instead, and was very glad I did. Although I was crammed between another person and the side of the boat, I was certain that having a flat surface that could actually accommodate a sitting position for more than 5 minutes was very much preferable to one that couldn’t. Over the next two days, in an endeavor to avoid both boredom and stiffness, I found more ways to maneuver my body to fit into that tiny area than I could have imagined possible (maybe I should try out for cirque du soliel!)

After only about 20 minutes, I had already tired of the scenery and started reading the 50-pound book I had been loaned by a friend who knew it would keep me well occupied on such a lengthy excursion. I also met several other travelers to pass the time with talking, as per usual on any transport longer than a few minutes from A to B. One girl, Naoko, was from Japan, and we decided we would share a room in the small village of Pak Beng, where we would be stopping overnight. Touts (another given of Asian tourism) immediately converged on us, impeding our progress up the steep, sandy river bank until we finagled a deal with one who led us to our hotel. Naoko and I settled in for the night. Our progress towards sleep was only momentarily delayed as we formed a spontaneous drum corps after taking note that our “beds” appeared to be made out of plywood.

The next morning we grabbed our pre-ordered lunches and reluctantly boarded the boat for the second leg of the grueling journey. I think this time I just tried to sleep as much as possible to forget about the heat, discomfort, and boredom. Eventually, and not a moment too soon, our destination emerged slowly out of the forested mountains. Luang Prabang is a small, quiet town on the Mekong River which is Southeast Asian in most of its essentials, but exudes a touch of quaint provincial France. Colonialism left behind permanent markers here, from the architecture of the houses and shops to the art of baking the perfect baguettes, painstakingly passed-down and refined over the generations. Naoko and I wandered this beautiful town together, eating in open-air cafes on the river, exploring the many Buddhist temples, visiting a handicrafts market, hiking up a hill in the center of town to watch the sunset from yet another temple, and waking up at 4am to witness the daily procession of young Buddhist monks with marigold-colored robes and shaven heads collecting food from villagers as alms. 

After a few days, I parted ways with Naoko and took a bus to Vientiane, the capital. Other than lots of construction, nothing much seemed to be going on here. I walked to a public fountain, only to find it not functioning. I moved on to a temple, where a Western tourist couple seemed to be the only other souls in the place. I took a cab to Pha That Luang, the great golden stupa that is the national symbol of Laos, and there were about fifty times more people in the paved lot buying and selling T-shirts than there were in the whole of the grounds. As one of the poorest countries in Southeast Asia, Laos lacks much of an infrastructure; therefore, development has been slow.

(Sidebar: Of course, it doesn’t help that the American War in Vietnam has had such long-lasting effects for this country. Some areas are still being cleared of land-mines, craters puncture the countryside where our military pilots indiscriminately dropped their bombs to avoid the humiliation of returning to home base without having gotten rid of them, and Hmong people are still fleeing for their lives from persecution by the government after the Americans secured their assistance… and then left them to fend for themselves, hunted down as traitors to Laos.) Surely there will be exponential growth for the country in the next few years, and if this happens in a similar way as it has for other countries in the area, Laos might soon face similar problems of culture and tradition being pitted against Western “progress” and “comforts”. With such fundamental changes in way of life, Laos may find itself losing what makes it Laos

But not right now. The Laotians I met through my English teacher friend very much brought to mind the lighthearted spirit that Laos is known for. They were all perfectly happy to kick back, practice English with me, and drink BeerLao, a beverage this nation prides itself in having invented. One girl, who couldn’t have been more than 20, also bashfully told me that she had had an American boyfriend before… who was 70! I’m afraid that sort of thing is an epidemic all over Southeast Asia. It’s a pretty lucrative arrangement for both the women there and the elderly Western men who seek them out, but in a lot of ways a detriment to the community as a whole, not to mention repulsive in how the unequal distribution of power between these two groups ends up playing out in real life =/

The day before I left Vientiane to go back to Thailand, I happened to walk into an internet café and find Naoko there! We decided we would go to a sculpture park about 30 minutes outside the city the next day before I left. The ride there definitely took longer but it was worth it. We walked around the cement sculptures, which the artist had created using the influences of not only Buddhism but also Hinduism and other native spiritual beliefs. The result was an eclectic and at times eccentric mix of statues. You could even climb through a monster’s mouth, up into a hollow structure filled with labyrinthian passages, and walk along until you came out into the sun at the top, to look out over the entire park and the Mekong River, in the shadow of a towering, abstract cement tree (which can actually be seen from Thailand- more on that in a later edition). Overall, my time in Laos passed very well and I highly recommend going there… however, I will never be able to recommend that slow boat excursion to anyone, except as a joke!