Letting my feet dry ...

I arrived in Kathmandu on March 8th, in good company with Austen, Shaun & Richard, also crew members on other boats from Indian Ocean passage. As I stepped off the plane onto Nepali tarmac I was immediately overcome with a sense of gratitude and reassurance-- this is exactly where I should be and I think this is my most favorite place in the world so far! Mega mountains, Hindus, Buddhists, textiles, saris, sacred cows, garbage everywhere on the streets, human defecation on the sidewalk, hippies, cheap outdoor gear, sadhus.... Kathmandu is a chaotic mix of the nasties of a developing country, yet all things meditative, geographically-magnificent, enlightening, and mind-expanding. Hindu and Buddhist shrines around every corner, well attended with floral and rice offerings and fresh powdered paint dabbed on the 3rd eye center of deity statues. Dirty hungry dogs and chickens and cows laying in piles of garbage next to said shrines. Chai tea stands and fried something-or-others for your snacky fancy! There are no traffic lights and there is a steady flow of horns to match. A German I met on the trail describes the honking as "a form of violence". It is really overwhelming sometimes. One day while crossing a bridge over a garbage filled river, there bellow the metal grates of my feet lay a rotting buffalo corpse! The stench was overwhelming. Eyes forward... walk on. Indeed, this city is not for the easily flustered or those quick to gag on putrid smell.

Austen, Shaun and Richard are really good company. All hansom and hilarious! Austen, 22, from Bainbridge Island WA, has an awkward, in your face, sense of humor on par with mine and grew up talking about his feelings amongst hippy family members and summer camps. Richard, also 22, from the UK has a stunning burley man beard... the first in his early beard career and is very proud of it! He's tall and lanky and is modest with his intelligence, a quality I find really endearing. Shaun, 30, from Austen Texas is nicknamed 'Ol Boy Boots by Austen and me and has been traveling for I think 3 years. He's quick to make friends on the trail with his charm and heady accounts of adventure and outdoorsmanship.

After a couple of nights in the city, we left for a trek in the Langtang National Forrest. The bus ride to Syabrubesi, where the trail begins is an experience that will stand out for the rest of my life! A small unpaved, winding road full of pot holes and winds around steep cliff sides. It took almost 10 hours to travel just over 74 miles. Me and my boys rode in the back. I was thankful to be cramped shoulder to shoulder as it wedged you in place so you at least didn't fly out of your seat with every bounce of the bus (every other minute!) About half way through the ride we decided to join the locals on top of the bus. "At least if the bus falls of the cliff you can jump off and might survive!" Someone said up top. Although a bit horrifying as you stare down at the tires, on edge of plummeting cliff sides, the views were spectacular and the dusty "fresh" air is a welcome exchange for the puke wafting around inside the bus below! Terraced farms textured the mountain sides and each new turn revealed views of the Langtang region ahead, covered in snow. Every now and then you might get a branch or wire in the face. Every now and then exchanging awkward looks with a Nepali up top. They sort of look at you like "you're not supposed to be up here...."

I was little worried about keeping up with these boys and their man-thighs during the hike. I came down with food poisoning after our first night on the trail. Austin was ill too and we walked together for a bit, stopping to puke in unison-- a heartfelt moment. Hiking up steep trails while you're nauseous is not my cup of tea! I decided to stop for the day after about a 3 walk and Austin continued on to meet the others. I assured him he didn't need to feel bad about leaving me (as it turned out the others gave him a hard time though!). The tea house we had reached at that point was so peaceful with a fresh glacier stream bubbling through the center and I knew the Nepali mama there would nurse me back to health. The trails in Langtang are well traversed with other hikers and locals carrying up goods to tea houses (guest houses), so for the most part, its safe to tread alone. After about 12 hours sleep, with a short soup intermission, I felt fit the next day to hike on. Two nice Belgians accompanied me at first- Peter (Son) and Benny (Father).

Over the course of the next couple of days I stayed at the same tea houses as Peter and Benny, enjoying their company at night and then hiking alone through part of the day. It was actually really enjoyable hiking alone. Rhododendrons were on the verge of bloom and fresh lilac perfumed the air. The trail follows a river, littered with massive, silken boulders. Crystal blue glacier water pounds its way around the boulders and makes for a nice soundtrack. Knitting during my breaks attracted the attention of the local women the whole way up and then they'd notice my rats nest of a hairdoo and help me comb my hair. Really sweet.

Back In Kathmandu, I decide to stay at a yoga ashram, Ananda, and the boys move on to Pokhara. The schedule at Ananda is as follows:
- 6:00 morning walk through local village or mantra chanting
- 7:00 Shatkarma (yogic cleansing)
- 7:30 asanas (yogic postures)
- 8:30 breakfast
- 11:30 Pranayama, meditation and yogic discussion
- 1:00pm. lunch
- 2:00 personal time (stroll, study, bath)
- 3:00 yoga nidra (psychic sleep)
- 4:30 asanas (yogic postures)
- 6:00 dinner
- 7:00 kirtan/bhajan (chanting with music)
- 8:00 retiring (quite time)

 Shatkarma (yogic cleansing) involves pouring warm salt water through one nostril, out the other followed by blowing the snot and water out of your nose in unison with others. This might be one of my favorite parts of the day :) Yoga Nidra is also lovely-- a guided mediation while you lay in savasana, full of imagery and imagination. "Your standing by a river....." -- that sort of thing! The main leader at Ananda is Shivgiri and to be honest, he kind of gets on my nerves! He's perpetually smiling and throws his head back in laughter at the slightest sound of his own humor. During one of the "meditation and yogic discussions" he mentions that he's always happy. "Do you ever force your happiness or smiles?" I ask? No, he says and I don't believe him and am further annoyed. I decide the best way to settle any annoyance I have with him (which by the way, as NOTHING to do with him and EVERYTHING to do with me!) is via a game of Chess. He beats me and then there's a softer spot in my heart for him. His daughter, Ganga, teaches the yoga classes and is beautiful and strong and dedicated. The yoga classes lack a little bit of detail in instruction but I realize, at home, I'm used to having the instruction handed to me on a silver platter. Westerners demand more "hand holding" I think, otherwise a yoga studio would go out of business. Rightfully so, because you can really hurt yourself if you just blindly jump into positions. Ganga helps me achieve some balancing poses I never mastered at home and a headstand and in the end I leave with a sore back. I love the kirtan/bhajan (chanting with music) in the morning and night. Kids and men from the village join and sing and play the drums and the men have velvety voices that make me melt against the backdrop of the harmonium. One boy in particular, maybe 8 or 9, flings out drum beats from his tiny hands that DJ Shadow would kill to sample. I wished I would have sampled them!

Back in Kathmandu now, killing time until Jon arrives on the 16th. Really excited as we haven't seen each other since November! Thank god for skype! This weekend I'll go to Baktipur with a new friend, Raju. Apparently you can see Everest in the distance from there! I'll return early next week to work with a local silversmith for 5 days. Over and Out.

Pirates

On Jan 29th I set sail across the Indian Ocean with Crisa, from Brazil, on his 36ft sailboat, Vagabond. Stopping in Maldives along the way, we were at sea 16days from Phuket to Maldives and then 9 days at sea from Maldives to Oman. The Maldives to Oman stretch is notorious for pirate activity, as such Crisa made plans to join a convoy of 25 or so other boats, named "TTT" (Thailand to Turkey). This was supposed to be the route, and as you can imagine I was stoked. Dream come true!

Over 600 hostages are currently being held captive by the Somali pirates. The vast majority of the hostages are from large freighter/container ships. Before I set sail from Thailand the most recent pirate attack on a private yacht was in Oct 2010-- This boat was quite close to the Somali coast, further south than the typical Indian Ocean Passage from Maldives or Somalia. Within the past few weeks however "the rules of engagement have changed", as yachty's everywhere are saying, with two private yachts captured within days of each other. These boats were captured during the same time frame I happened to be smack in the middle of my passage from Maldives to the Red Sea.

Friday, Jan 14 journal passage, before leaving Phuket: Spent my first night on the Vagabond. Crisa and I drank a bottle of wine and started conversation with "what's the one thing that people do on your boat that really pisses you off" and "what do your good friends posses in life that you wish you had". Conversation was good. Crisa is a beautiful, Brazilian bachelor that likes to party, admittedly looking for his wife as he sails the seas. Not desperately seeking by any means, just "focused" as he put it. He would prefer to have children with a woman from another country so the kiddos "have perspective". He left Brazil in 2007 and has been sailing around the world since. He lived in the states for a bit as a kid and despises "American competition" ... says he feels bad for us, actually. He loves pancakes or a toasted cheese sandwich in the morning and sometimes takes more than one shower a day. A little too clean for my taste. Though he denies it, when he asks if I want to take a shower I can't help but think that its a strong suggestion and not a simple question. I can be a stinky hippy sometimes, after all. He attempted to grow a beard while at sea because I told him men were most handsome with beards. He couldn't get past the itch and it was preemptively shaved. With a thick Brazilian accent, any word ending in in "ed" is pronounced literally, so I'm constantly thinking he's talking about some guys named Ed (ie, "Use Ed" instead of "Used"). Also when he says "chart plotter" it sounds like he's saying "shark blocker", as such, my heart jumps in fear when he says "im gonna go bellow and look at the sharks". He believes in god, but a unanimous, unaffiliated, non-dogmatic, sort of god-of-all-gods. He believes wholeheartedly in a humans ability to "switch", in an instant, one's outlook for the better, regardless the circumstance. Stay positive. He does not know any constellations (shame) and I make it my goal to show him some of my favorites. Crisa seems unmoved by the whole pirate situation and thinks that the chances of run in with said vagabonds are very very slim and that everyone is blowing things out of proportion.I'm not so convinced.

I really grappled with my decision to go because of the pirates. In an email to my mum before going:  "I trust Crisa and his experience. Ive observed him carefully the past two weeks- taking note of the things I like and the less desirable traits. Watching how he interacts with other people. How we communicates on the boat. I feel confident and comfortable. Ive gone over my list of 20x10 questions for him about safety and operations. Ive met many other people on boats sailing tandem-- just the two of them, with various levels of experience. I think that I work harder and pay closer attention to the technical aspects than alot of other ladies. Still, I know  Im not superwoman and need to keep my head on straight while im out there. I was scared shitless actually, having never sailed such a distance before through pirate waters nonetheless. For two weeks as Crisa and I prepared the boat to leave Phuket, I constantly weighed the pros and cons. I made lists. Every chance I got I talked to other yachties and cruisers and land-locked people alike. Thing is, everyone had their own opinion. Opinions varied greatly-- maybe that's a sign in itself.... when the masses can't agree on something, "somethings" up-- right? Some days I felt determined and at ease about going- so excited for what lies ahead. Scared other times, I awoke from sleep once, abruptly sitting up, gasping for air, my heart pounding with anxiety. Sometimes it literally felt like I was taking on a decision "to die or not to die". A sign of intuition... right? Don't go. Thing is, since beginning my travels in November I've been learning loads about my propensity to exaggerate. Anyone that knows me well can attest-- I tend to exaggerate ... tend to focus on the negative... create fear and self doubt when reality doesn't necessarily warrant it! I kept thinking that perhaps this was one of those situations and that maybe this was a chance to move beyond my fears and doubts and manifest positivity-- POOF! But in the end, make no mistake, this trip was something to be reasonably concerned about.

The Thailand to Maldives passage was a good challenge and I feel like I discovered a lot about myself. It seems that emotional patterns and ways of being are much easier to over analyze when the daily hustle and bustle of life is gone. So, being the compulsive over-analyzer that I am, I was in luck! Day after day of "nothingness". If you're not careful actually, the ocean starts to look and feel like a desert. Empty solitude. But then you remember that this is a blue planet, after all, and the ocean below is teeming with life and your sail boat is reliant on the very hydrosphere that, well... makes the world go round! It's humbling and inspiring. As you'll see from my photos, I saw some incredible sunsets and sunrises!  An email to my family upon arriving in the Maldives: We were at sea for 16 days. For much of the journey the waves and current and wind were not in our favor so it was very slow going. Plus we stopped at one of the Nicobar islands along the way and stayed for two nights, repairing the auto pilot (its all good now) and waiting for some bad weather to pass. There was no civilization on this island- otherwise would have contacted you! The island was a total creep show- like something out of Lost. very erie. I was very scared the first few days sailing, being new at this and all. the waves seemed huge to me-- as i had more days under my belt i realized they really weren't that big. The trip was pretty emotionally challenging sometimes. so much time to think. i have a hard time doing "nothing". I wrote a lot, played guitar (I can play!), worked on crossword puzzles, read, slept. Its also very physically tiring because the boats always moving and your constantly having to hold yourself steady. Even in your sleep.We had some storms- some very wet nights, but also some sunny days too. During the stormy bit my feet were pruned for 2 days straight! I was really looking forward to the stars at night, but the clouds during the day are actually even more spectacular! Im on watches at night from 10pm-2am and 6am-10am, while Crisa sleeps. I think about all of you a lot during these times. When we passed the 10 day mark i often closed my eyes and thought of each of you and tried to reassure you that I was ok. We will leave with our group from here, likely in two days. This next passage to Salalah, Oman will take 10-15 days. We should for sure be there by the 1st of March if we leave this Wednesday from Maldives.
 

Upon arrival in Maldives, we discovered that the TTT convoy had pretty much dissolved. A boat that was in the convoy greeted us and said "the pirate situation has exploded" with some new tankers being recently seized. Some of the TTT convoy left the day before we arrived and decided to go north, hugging the Indian coast all along the way. A few boats decided that that presented it's own risks, keeping you in potential pirate waters even longer. Some boats thought it better to make a straight, quick dash across the Indian Ocean, thereby decreasing the amount of time spent in pirate waters. Some boats had given up all together, deciding to "ship their ships" to Turkey for $30,000 or more. Crisa and I teemed up with two other boats, LaPalapa and Scot Free III. They were of the "make a straight, quick dash across the Indian Ocean" pirate-water-philosophy. They thought the other boats had too much time to sit and stew in fear in the Maldives and were blowing things out of proportion. They reiterated again that up until that point, the only private vessel to be taken was the one further south, close to Somalia in Oct, far from our proposed route. "We're small fish" they said. They don't want Yachts. It's tankers the pirates are after. Big money.

The 3 of us set sail from Maldives on February 17th. Soon after we set sail we got word that a private sailing vessel called Quest had been captured in route to Oman. The next day we found out that all the passengers were shot and killed.

To complicate matters, after the first couple of days it was apparent that there were some miss-communications between my boat and the others about a minimum speed to maintain during the passage. First of all, the other boats were capable of going much faster than us just because of their sail set-up and motor sizes. But on top of that, it seemed that Vagabond was under-preforming while motoring without wind. Crisa insisted there was nothing wrong with his engine but the others were not convinced. Actually, Crisa was being quite stubborn I thought and I was beginning to fear that the others would leave us. LaPalalapa was hinting that maintaining such a slow speed increased our exposure to pirates as we bobbed along slowly in the ocean (not a bad point, all in all). Scot Free was an excellent mediator, trying to provide sound, reasonable advice, in good compromise. Afraid of being left by the others, one day I was in and out of tears. It was my opinion that if we lost the others, we lost every ounce of our pirate prevention. Our boat did not have radar or AIS to track other boats. We would lose our "power in numbers" protection. Also, Roger on LaPalapa was in touch with various governments and orgs every days about recent pirate activity and weather updates which gave us a step up making safe changes to the route to avoid pirates. I felt extremely helpless, scared and anxious. Finally Crisa ran some diagnostic tests on the engine, realizing that it was under preforming and discovered that our propeller had fallen off! If you're not clear on what this means, loosing your propeller means you have absolutely no way to propel your boat forward unless there is wind.... aaaaaand the weather forecasted NO WIND coming our way for days and days. Not an ideal arrangement in pirate waters. As Roger from LaPalapa says, "sub-optimal".

To make matters worse, at the same time all this was happening with our propeller AND after the sad news about Quest, another boat was taken by pirates. They were quite close to us actually, and Scot Free could hear a VHF transmition from a helicopter responder trying to communicate with the boat. The boat had sent an e-purb signal but was not responding otherwise. This incident hit close to home. The boat's name is "ING" (like the bank) and they left the Maldives the same morning we did. When they arrived on the island they asked me for advice on accessing the internet -- hard to come by on a small island with such basic provisions and a steady population of about 400. 3 beautiful blond children clung onto their tall, matronly mother. They were all so tall with deep tans and beautiful smiles. The 17 year old son had hair so blond it was almost white. Their boat was anchored right by ours and as their laundry hung from every spare space of line I couldn't help but feel they were living a dream I'd like to replicate someday with my own family. I was very curious and envious of them- so many beautiful, smiling people on that boat! I think there were 6 or 7 in total on the boat. My imagination wondered around an adventurous family at sea. What a life for those kids! Crisa gave them our convoys way points and invited them to tag along on the passage to the Red Sea. As Crisa reached up from our dingy to hand the mother our coordinates, all the others on the boat curiously peered up from the cabin. They were noncommittal about joining our group but graciously smiled and thanked Crisa. "We'll see you guys around" he said. The morning we left our convoy flew past ING at 5.5 knots- they must have been strictly sailing. Again, my mind romanticized about a family committed to traveling the world by wind and minimal engine use. "Oh... they're even 'green'!" I thought. I tracked their boat on the horizon for a couple of hours, every few minutes looking back. As they shrunk on the edge of the horizon I couldn't help but think how vulnerable they looked, all alone out there. It's been confirmed that all aboard ING are being held hostage and are alive. I'm really disturbed to think of what they all must be going through... the kids especially. This is the most recent news I can find on ING. If you find other updates please post.

My group of three boats were extremely lucky. Extremely blessed. After we lost our propeller we had remarkable wind, enabling us to sail at even a steady 8 knots for hours sometimes. Occasionally during this time the wind would dip and for a few hours we would bob along at 4 knots or just below. Again , this was very stressful, feeling so vulnerable. Especially in light of what happened with ING and Quest just days before. I tried to steer my mind from the thought of death... from imagining very specifically what it would feel like to die from gun shot wounds... from what the pirates might subject young women to before death. All very scary thoughts. More lessons in the pros and cons of  over annalyzation.

On Feb 25th, a US Warship rendezvoused with us. Journal entry, Feb 25, N13.44 & E056.40, 1:20 am: The warship has arrived! They will escort us to Salalah. What a night. The Bio-luminescence and stars shining strong. At frist a helicopter flew by overhead and then 2 US warships closed in on us. On ship has continued SE, presumably to ING. No one knows whats happened to all aboard ING. Our warship is such a comfort. I experienced highs and lows beyond anything I ever felt before. Death and fear in face. Pirates... loss of our prop. Wow. I feel so indebted to our accompanying buddy boats, LaPalapa and Scot Free. I'm also feeling a lot of guilt for having put my family through this. Wondering how they are keeping up with my status out here. Wondering if they even know there is a warship here?! What have I gotten myself into... that I'm being escorted by a warship?!

At this point we were still sailing, having wind sufficient enough to keep us moving forward without arranging a tow line from another boat to our, prop-less, vessel. When the wind would leave us at times, though, I was amazed that the warship stayed with us at 4 knots. How slow for a warship! They must be itching to move! The VHF communications with the warship were amusing. A strange combination of serious business and emotion in light of the situation. My most favorite warship quote is "US warship 84 copies all". I felt more patriotic than ever before, having a warship from my own country protect me halfway around the world from the states. Why they chose us to shadow to the coast is a mystery to me. Roger on LaPalapa is an ex-marine from the states. Maybe he pulled some strings? Its not like we were the only boats out there. Others would have greatly appreciated the protection. I gues there are only so many warships to go around? As we found when we reached Oman and met other yachts, every boat had their story. Some even with near misses with pirates attempting to pull them away from their convoy. We were so lucky. 

How far are you willing to go for adventure and self-discovery? What exactly are you willing to risk? What's your limit? How do you even know what your limit is until, perhaps, its too late? What are you trying to prove, if anything by taking such risks? What's the impact on others... on your loved ones? Is the impact worth it to you? Is that selfish? What if your loved ones disagree with your decision to push on? How do you reconcile their disagreement with your own desires and need to push yourself? These are all questions that have been heavy on my mind since arriving to Salalah. Its always been my philosophy to never have regrets in life, but this came very close.

Ive spent the past few days in the United Arab Emirates, stocking up on a little bit of comfort and luxury before re-entering the back-packing scene. Tomorrow I catch a flight to Kathmandu where I'll meet up with 3 guys that also crewed on boats these past few weeks on the same passage. We'll all enjoy the comfort of knowing what one another has been through while we traverse a new land-locked adventure in Nepal. 

Roger from LaPalapa in his Dingy at sea, setting up a tow rope from Scot Free to our boat.

Scot Free III towing us into Salalah Port, Oman.

Another convoy, Blue Water Rallie (BWR) having a most "private" meeting in Salalah Port. Many BWR boats are paying upwards of $40,000 to "ship their ships" to Turkey instead of sailing on through the Gulf Aden, to the Red Sea.

You can see our route penciled from Maldives to Oman-- off to the right, center-right-ish in yellow marks where SV ING was high jacked by pirates. My boat, Vagabond lost it's propeller somewhere around bottom right.

This is me in my most patriotic moment, with my new BFF, U.S. Warship 84.

Laosy Wound, Dec 9, 2010

So... if you were not aware, I can be a total hot-headed, smug punk sometimes. As such, there are lessons to learn and debts to be paid- current said debt takes form as a 4'' long by 1'' deep gash in the calf! In hind sight, there were many signs I should have heeded to. The motor bike I rented was not even from a proper rental place-- it belonged to a mechanic and his wife and working through spotty english to arrange the deal was a total hassle. At one point he motioned for me to hop on his bike. We drive about 2 blocks away to another shop and pick up another bike. He motions for me to hop on the other bike and drive behind him back to his shop. My experience with manual bikes is very limited but on the first try I figured it out and follow him back to his shop. We settleed the deal. Paid up and gave our passports for collateral.


Once all was said and done, I hop on the bike to leave. All eyes are on me. "Is she really going to drive that?" I back the bike up and begin to accelerate.... aaaannnd it keeps accelerating.... aaaannnnd accelerating. I raced forward about 6 feet, very quickly, legs dragging on the ground trying to stop myself. Bike stops- engine revving. All eyes are really on me now! "I knew she couldn't drive!", their faces say. Just when I think I have it together and I'll drive off successfully and prove my upstanding motor capabilities... "no no folks... just kidding! haha!".... my lower leg feels hot and heavy. I look down. So confused- blood is gushing and I can see the insides of my flesh like I've never seen before. Is that bone?! What am I looking at! Crap. Northern Laos. Blood. Lots of blood. Did I say NORTHERN SLEEPY LOAS?!


I get off the bike and stand in shock, bending down for a moment, squeezing my leg above laosy wound. "What do I do?" I said to my fellow traveler, Thomas (who we'll now refer to as Big Baby Man). BBM says "I haven't an f-ing clue" and he's literally running around in circles. At that moment I knew this man was going to be of no help to me - whatsoever. Get it together Elise. Breath. Stay conscious. Don't look at your gushing flesh. Breath. I laid down and got my leg in the air- took of my headband and tied it just above the wound and Thomas and I starting saying "hospital"...  "hospital". Soon a local man with a truck pulled up. BBM helped me into the back. I laid down and rested my leg up on the seat. Sorry about the blood on the seat dude... good thing your seats are pleather. The hospital is small. White, maybe new? Seems clean. No one speaks English. "Huang Nam... Huang Nam" I say. Ive gotta pee really bad! "Just go", Thomas says. I don't think so. Soon pain and necessity overtook the urge.

They prepared a table in the hallway for me. Why the hallway? "Maybe its cleaner?" I thought- I have no clue... but I was stitched in the hallway, surrounded by empty rooms with beds. Upon first resting on the table I was trying to wrap my mind around what was about to happen. What do I need to prepare myself for? At that point Laosy wound isn't bleeding anymore. "ok... they're going to stitch it up! Right?! Obviously. That's logical. They definitly are not going to cut my leg off. I know that much Phew." Then I sit up and have another peak at Laosy wound. "Ahhhhhh.... how the HELL are they going to stitch that?!" I thought. It was just so deep and from edge to edge, so wide and gapiong. I could bare the thought of then pulling the skin back together.

Ahh yes, but they will give me pain pills or local anesthetic right?! Yes!
Wrong. Thomas stood by my side while they stitched. I held his hand a pullsed and squeezed with each new stitch. The first stitch may have hurt the most. I attraced a crowd of onlookers. Each new set of eyes was accompanied by a ghastly look on their face as they caught glimpse of the wound. And then they looked at me and I smiled and then they smiled in relief. I broke a sweat and could feel the adrenaline pumping. My leg was so tense I concentrated on easing it up and relaxing into it. I figured it would be bad to have it stitched while my muscles were all contracted. There's just no way around this Elise. You just gotta dive in!  I think around stitch 4 or 5 I starting singing Joni Mitchell's "Peoples Parties" which segues nicely into "same situation". I tapped into a part of myself that I hadn't known before. I'm serious-- It was kind of beautiful.

Since my doctor didn't speak English and I couldn't ask her how many times she had done stitches and what the severity of the wound was and whether or not she was breast fed, I just decided to make it all up in my head. I decided to manifest that she was extremely well trained... graduated top of the class actually in Muang Sing. She had an excellent day at work and received many compliments on her new hair doo. She was happily married and last night had the best sex of her. And so it was... and so the stitches were done exceptionally well. 

First few days in Laos, Dec 2010

For the first week in Laos I traveled with a group that conglomerated over lunch in Luang Nam Tha as we all chatted about arranging a trek into the Nam Ha National Bio-Diversity Conservation Area. Our table kept growing in size as trekking options were being tossed and other travelers realized they were into the same plan. Pull up a chair and join us! I love how groups form like this when traveling. The international backpacking community give me faith in humanity. 


Our two day trek was amazing. Our group got along swimmingly. We were led by a 27 year old Laos guide named Ponsack. Handsome guy and he knows it. Very knowledgeable about various plants and herbs along the way- and leaves that you can snap, roll and blow bubbles from. Ponsack knows all the moves. Hiking up the hills through the jungle was great exercise and well rewarded with a traditional Laos lunch. We arrived at an Akha hill tribe village at about 4:30 pm and were instantly offered handy crafts. I surely did not need four embroidered pouches, but for about a dollar each and the thought of supporting their tribe it was well worth it. The detail that's put into these handicrafts compared to how cheap they are sold ... well, makes me feel bad! Especially when I've sold jewelry at home for 30 times the price! 


An amazing dinner was cooked for us. A small snake found along the trek was made into a delicious lime leaf soup. When we asked Ponsack what snake would taste like he replied "snake tastes like snake." This became a running joke with the group... "Ponsack, what does grasshopper taste like?"... we anticipated the answer. "Grasshopper"... and he would chuckle. During dinner a man walked around the circle, feeding us shots of Lao Lao- local whiskey- possibly, ever so slightly narcotic? Very strange quality of "drunk". They just kept it coming, going round and round the circle with shots! Sometimes refusing alcohol in SE Asia is considered very rude, so these situations can be interesting to deal with if your not up for it. Let's just say that a few us don't remember as much as others' from that night! The next day we were crying, laughing so hard at the photos. 

Our group got on so well that we decided to travel further north together. Welcome to Muang Sing. Slow, sleepy, rural. Lonely planet says "Muang Sing is a small town that grows on you by the hour. Its main appeal is a confluence of cultures ... It’s a utopia for trigger-happy photographers... " I think everyone in the group was a little burnt out from our trek though and maybe a bit disenchanted with such a rural scene. As such- it was my main mission to find a motorbike rental so I could explore the surrounding area and hill tribe cultures. Maybe I could replicate my enchanting ride through the hills of Chiang Mai?

Chiang Rai - Early Dec 2010

Chiang Rai is indeed, I think as lonely planet puts it, Chiang Mai's sleepy cousin. I met up with my next WWOOF host, who we'll call Al. Al's a cool dude. He's an author, entrepreneur, Californian musician, user of classic slang such as "ace" (good) and "hip cat" (*see bellow). This was all refreshing, sort of a taste of home. Al and I arranged to meet at a bakery near the bus station. As I sat out front sizing everyone up for the looks of "Al ", an old man walked in, eyes down, seemingly grumpy- seemed to have one goal- paper and coffee. I thought, nahhhhh.... can't be him. "My Al" would be looking around for a girl with a backpack. Engaging the scene, right? But after waiting about ten minutes I thought I better double check. "Are you Al?" YUP! Ok. Off to a good start.

Al was real easy to get along with. Despite his age, which I dare not guess so we'll just say "older", Al had a real youthful demeanor and way of interacting. He was also a bit misleading. His WWOOF setup was not so much a farm as it was an adventure tourism park in the making. The arrangements were work for about 5 hours a day- free lunch, all the bread and eggs you want for night/morning, a small house all to yourself and a beater bike to get too and from town. Doesn't sound too bad, right? I couldn't take it. Maybe someone died once upon a time in this small house that I had all to myself? It was a total creep fest and I was alone, swimming in it! On my 2nd night I couldn't take it anymore so I fixed the bike up and rode into town- about 30 minutes. This was also the same night that I declared "lately I've been thinking about how I think I might think too much and I think I might want to think about cutting it out." 

For the most part I enjoyed my work days with Al- he was super laid back and funny and very open about to talking about his Thai girlfriends (a topic I find really fascinating in SE Asia. If your not familiar, male "Ex Pats" flock here by the 1,000 to enjoy women of their dreams.  Some really do fall in love. Others become disenchanted as they turn into walking ATM's, have to make all the decisions including what she'll have for dinner-- "up to you mister"-- and as they are completely, intellectually UNstimulated. Anyways, I helped Al paint a sign for his business with toxic oil paint that he said I could just wash with paint thinner into the ground at the end of the day. Thanks WWOOF host. Then again, I did it without complaint.

I realize that I all too often give people TOO much benefit of the doubt- I get pretty butt-hurt about potentially disappointing others, so sometimes I just avoid it at all costs even if it means sacrificing my own comfort or happiness. Another traveler in Chiang Rai helped me realize that I was really getting the bunk end of the deal with Al since his setup had nothing to do with organic farming, there was a total lack of community, and I was to sleep alone in a house that was either a) haunted or b) just had exceptionally bad feng shui. So! I follow the wind to Laos. 

mountain and motorbike and midget hummingbirds! oh my!

Arrived in Chiang Mai (for the 2nd time!) early Friday morning via bus from Bangkok. Its about a 10 hour journey-- a bumpy, cantankerous ride. However Timo my German travel mate and I were fortunate to land ourselves a cushy bus full of locals rather than farang with ac, blankies and a "ride attendant" providing smiles, snacks, moist towelettes and coffee. Timo worked on the farm in Bang Phra and plans on making it to the Golden Triangle via Chiang Mai & Rai. 5 out of 7 days a week Timo wears a t-shirt with someone sexy on, posed contrapasto- Kate Moss and Jim Morrison and the likes. I give him a hard time for it.

Timo and I parted ways this morning and I rented a motorbike to get out of the city and explore the nearby mountains with the intent of going as deep and far as felt reasonably safe-- fuel and daylight providing. Jon and I also went up this mountain when we were here about 3 weeks ago, but turned around soon after temple Doi Suthep. I stopped for a quick bite to eat near the temple (same place Jon and I went- I liked the familiar comfort!) and had a quick run up the steps to the temple for a bit of exercise. Got some funny looks when I reached the top and turned right around- had my Doi Suthep fix 3 weeks ago though- just in it for the burn folks.

Its cool on the mountain- you actually get to wear a jacket! A welcome cozy after sweating face all the time. I read in the lonely planet about some villages and a national park of sorts beyond Doi Suthep. Onward! Winding roads- hairpin turns. I'm officially a pro at the lean-to-turn. I came upon a place so dropdead gorgeous- so nestled, charming, full of goodies- dare I compare it to my Grandma Naes ppocket. It was a coffee farm run by Chiang Mai dept of agriculture. No more than 10 people around the entire place- hardly any farang. I enjoyed a cup of coffee with entirely too much powdered cream and sugar, biscuits and went for a walk. There were midget hummingbirds- appearing at first glance to be oversized bugs. Butterflies everywhere- bright feathered cocks and irresistably autonomous dogs.

Back on the road- next I came upon a small village. I drove all the way through, hesitant to stop. Maybe because everyone was staring at me. The road turned into pot-holed, a mini-river-runs-through-it, red dirt at the end of the village- thought it best not to take my rented motorbike down that so I turned around and stopped at a hill tribe handicraft shop in the village. Beautiful embroidered crafts- kind and wide Thai faces hoping i'll buys something. Bought two items with friends in mind. Walked to another shop the sun was shining on. The woman there spoke English and asked how I got there. I said motorbike- she said "nueng?" just one? just you? - just me, alone I said and her face said your crazy but I like it.

I asked if I had to return the way I came to get back to Chiang Mai, or if I could continue on the dirt road, down the mountain. She said I could continue on the dirt road- "very bumpy"- she bounced up and down in her seat and laughed. So off I went! It took about an hour to get to the bottom of the mountain and I loved every I'm-going-to-bust-my-motorbike-rental, moment of it. It was about 4pm by the time I made it to the valley. On my way down I passed several groups on proper off-roading bikes, each of us nodding and laughing as we passed by. Several times today I laughed out loud in solitude :)

Check out photos from today- GORGEOUS!

Leaving for Chiang Rai tomorrow.



Looking back on my mountain, after motor decent.



I am Farang

Farang = common slang for western tourists in Thailand. (sounds like Fahhlong when pronounced)

I'm in Sriracha- on a break from Neil's wwoofing in Bang Phra. Sriracha is about 15 minutes away on "songtow" - a truck-like mini bus - costs about 12 bat. 30 bat is equal to about 1 US dollar. My guesthouse was 160 bat in Sriracha and provided a double bed, fan overhead and a Thai style toilet that drops directly into the sea beneath me. Sriracha is a popular Japanese tourist destination and as such is full of Japanese restaurants and karaoke bars. Other western tourists are far and few between. The whole "Farang to Farang" dynamic still cracks me up. Anytime you pass another obvious westerner you make eye contact but then quickly look away. For a moment your excited to see another "you" but then ego kicks in and you quickly retreat.

After walking through the night market last night with a couple of fellow woofers from Estonia (I call them the "cutey-pah-tootie Estonians" you'll see pictures on fb) I escaped into a posh hotel to use the bathroom. I love using expensive hotel lobbies as a quick retreat while traveling. I remember I used to do the same when I was in the 8th grade, living in Milton just outside Boston-- I'd skip school with the cute skateboarder boys and take the red line into the city. We would loiter in fancy hotel lobbies, lounging on silky couches, pretending to be something we were not. The $100 a night Cape Racha Hotel was a nice, quick pick-me-up last night! Airconditioning, all smiles in the lobby, toilet paper, A FULL LENGTH MIRROR (haven't seen myself like that in about 3 weeks) - one could loiter in such a nice place in Thailand all night! I have it planned out- if they ask me if I'm staying there I'll just say I'm waiting for a friend and pretend not to speak English very well. Alas, I did not quit my job and travel to Thailand to kick-it in a western amenity style hotel lobby all night! Just a taste is nice though.

The ocean shore leading to my guesthouse is PACKED full of garbage and excrement- plastic bags, styrofoam- bits of this and that times 10.  All drains dump straight into the ocean. Mid squat there's about an 8 ft drop between your bottom and the water- separated by a wood floor with cracks on cement posts.

I met an amazing 79 year old Irishman upon checking into my room. Name's Ceril. He's worked for Lifesavers, Sears Roebuck and Schick Razor in his lifetime. His father was a Whisky distiller. He spoke slowly and often needed reminding of what he was talking about. He married a beauty at 27 (my age) but lost her 40 years later to his top shelf habit. He bestowed a simple line of wisdom- "you grow old too soon and smarten up too late." It's a classic, tragic human condition really. I think as 20 somethings the best things we can do sometimes is just shut the *$!% up and listen! Ceril has been coming to Thailand every year for 6 years. I asked "why Sriracha" of all places. "My first time- it was in Pitaya- sex sex sex!Now I don't have anything against sex but it's a little $&*#@^# much in Pitaya!" So after that first trip he hopped on a tuk tuk and found the guest house we were staying at via a Lonely Planet guide. He asked me if I've read "the Lonely Planet", as if it were a single book that you read front front to back. "oh of course" I said- which sort of felt like part lie since I've only read the bits about places I'm traveling to. Ceril once took a taxi from Chiang Mai to Sriracha when he couldn't get into Bangkok during the strikes about 2 years ago. He and his taxi driver stopped & enjoyed meals and coffee together along the 12 hour ride in smiley silence, lost in incompatible languages. I love having beer, conversation and a smoke with old men. Why does it always seem that men had all the adventure?! Ive shared conversations about the adventures of life with far more old men than women. I guess it's still a sign of the times- remnants of suppression. Maybe future me's will have me to talk to in my old age, 50 years from now.

I had another foot massage last night. Pure bliss. I think I may enjoy the softness of the Thai Massagers hands just as much as I do the kneading and rubbing and clever stretching techniques. A Thai massagers palms are a silky, rubbery muscle mass- sort of like dense, soft lip skin.

Work on the farm can be a little hard and tedious so I have to devise timing tricks and routines. Watering the pineapple completely lost in thought just seems unfair... what if one pineapple gets more water than the other due to me spacing out?! So I apply a steady one-one-thousand to ten-one-thousand 's worth of watering, per pineapple. This seem more fair and it's a nice meditation for me. Also some work is very strenuous so I apply a 15 minutes on, 5 minutes off ritual. I think I accomplish more in these short 15 minute bursts of digging than I would if I attempted to dig with less enthusiasm for a break that's 2, long hours away.

A positive outlook and "benefit of the doubt" for others is EVERYTHING to me lately. Discontentment and lulls and empathy and judgement follow you like a hungry beady-eyed puppy no matter where you are in the world! This is a great opportunity to learn how to switch your emotions on command. I didn't come to Thailand to wander around in a sulky daze! Whenever I feel any sort of lull creep up I say to myself, "This is it babe!What are you going to do today to make a difference in your heart and others'?!" At the same point in time I am a firm believer in humanoids letting themselves feel their emotions. It seems that all too often we suppress what we are feeling, labeling it as "negative" or "bad" or "unhealthy". There's a balance in everything though, aye? How about we just give ourselves a little more slack to experience sadness as simple sadness, in the moment, without labeling it.

I head back to Neil's farm tonight and will work one more day tomorrow, Thursday. Then it's off to Bangkok and back up to the Chiang Mai/Rai area! Looking forward to work on another farm- new faces- new tools- new dirt.

Over and out.

Here's a map of the area.

My guesthouse in Sriracha

Sriracha Bay

Goldfish. For sale.