The Beautiful Struggle: Burma

“Burma is indeed one of those lands of charm and cruelty”
Aung San Suu Kyi

It’s difficult to speak of Burma without first mentioning Aung San Suu Kyi, Nobel Peace Prize winner and general secretary of the National League for Democracy. She is the daughter of Aung San, a highly respected General who was monumental in bringing independence to Burma from the British in 1948. Her party, the NLD, won 82% of the vote in the 1990 – but the military junta (one of the most brutal and longest running military dictatorships in the world) refused to hand over power, and she has subsequently been under house arrest for 14 of the last 20 years (being accused of being a “traitor” in the eyes of the junta). Suu Kyi has recently been in the media, as an American man swam across the Lake to her home, uninvited, and therefore broke the terms of her house arrest. The junta gave her 18 more months of incarceration for this, which will consequently cause her to be out of the running for the highly anticipated 2010 multi-party elections. Local people affectionately call her “The Lady”.

Determining whether or not to go to Burma in the first place took some time – no matter how wisely that you travel some of the money still inevitably goes into the pockets of the junta. Ritchie (good friend from University in Amsterdam) and I made the decision to go and do what we do best while traveling anyway… tramp it. No domestic flights or government buses. Certainly no hotels or fancy restaurants. The local way would become our way; lock, stock and (2 smoking) barrels.

After a rowdy reunion in Bangkok we landed in Rangoon at 8 a.m., with 45 minutes of sleep on the plane under our belts and a slight buzz still from the never-ending night before. My friend Ei Ei is from Rangoon, but she used to work for an NGO here in Chiang Mai that my roommate also worked for. She came to the airport with her father to pick us up, was brilliant to see her again – we just looked at each other with colossal smiles and happy hearts, virtually amazed to be in each others presence once more, and in such an altered atmosphere from Thailand.



While Ritchie napped away his jet lag I went out wandering Rangoon solo for a few hours. It looks as if an earthquake hit the city as recently as yesterday, but of course nothing of the sort happened. The sidewalks are nearly completely destroyed and overturned, if you take your eyes off of them for more than a second while walking you are sure to end up injured in one way or another. Buildings are dilapidated and the little shack type stores set up everywhere are grimy and disheveled. I heard a “hey you!” from a young guy sitting at a table with some friends and he asked me to join them. His name is Tun Tun, and after a few cups of tea he walked with me back to our guesthouse. That night he took Ritchie and I to a place with decent Chinese food, a karaoke/fashion show and 50 cent glasses of draught Myanmar Lager. An interesting night, and after turning down his million requests to go to “the disco” with him, we managed to sleep peacefully over all the noise of dog fights, chickens and what sounded like tanks (but was probably just ancient buses).



I started to realize what I consider to be the “T’s” of Burma: tradition, thanaka, tea, tobacco and temples. The first thing is tradition, which permeates all of life in Burma. Women and men alike wear longyis, which is a long cloth that is worn around the waist and looks more or less like an ankle length ‘skirt’. If I had to guess I would say that 85% of the population wears a longyi. Rangoon has to be one of the only cities I’ve seen with men wearing ‘skirts’ and walking around barefoot in the country’s biggest metropolis. Another “T” that ties in with tradition is thanaka, which is a yellowish color paste made from the bark of trees. Women and girls wear this on their faces for cosmetic beauty, as well as for protection from the scorching sun. It’s quite charming and lovely and they have been doing this for nearly 2,000 years. Tea, Tea, Tea! I consumed more tea in 2 weeks in Burma then I have in my whole life. Burmese tea is incredibly sweet and carmel colored, but the most popular is a light colored Chinese blend. The best tasting glasses seemed to be near temples, although the cups we drank out of old motor oil jugs were not so shabby (fingers crossed they were washed properly... or at least have had enough boiling water in them to be non-fatal for consumption). Ahhh, the “T” that is tobacco! Everyone in Burma seems to smoke. The monks, the men, the teenagers…whether it is a cheroot cigar (tobacco rolled in banana leaf, costing about 1 cent for 3 of them) or the mildly grotesque betel nut, which is a scarlet red color and acts as a stimulant, chewed by more people then I’d care to remember and spit everywhere on the ground, giving the effect of puddles of blood everywhere, the Burmese people really love their tobacco (and apparently hate their teeth, as the betel nut does atrocious things to your mouth) . A slightly more beautiful “T” is temples, of which there is no shortage anywhere you go. I can’t get enough pagodas and stupas, so for me it was bliss, while for Ritchie it got to be quite a bore.



After a road trip with Ei Ei to Bago (the most fantastically kitsch Buddhist monument town I can imagine) we headed more north to Inle Lake, via a 21 hour ‘overnight bus’ ride. I couldn’t take my eyes off the countryside and the scenes we were passing – people squatting on the side of the road in the typical Asian stance, women with over sized baskets filled to the brim on the tops of their heads walking by, cow drawn carriages, water buffalo, triangle straw hats and women with babies wrapped around them in cloth… everyone in longyis and with thanaka on their faces. While Ritchie snored away next to me the entire time, I felt completely inspired by the sight of these remarkable people, so snug in the crutch of all the humanity.



Inle Lake is a tremendous place comprised of mostly self-sufficient farmers. The Lake itself is in a mountainous area, so to be able to grow crops more conveniently the locals have built “floating gardens” on bamboo bases all around the outer edge of the Lake. The beauty and efficiency of these gardens cannot be overstated, in my mind. The homes around the lake are made of wood and woven bamboo and stand on stilts in the Lake, some in better shape than others. We took a boat trip around the Lake with 2 girls from France and 2 Burmese guides – an unforgettable day filled with culture and life and an eye opening view of how so many people in the area live. There is grinding poverty everywhere and yet they live in an incredibly pristine place… such a strange juxtaposition! On another day in Inle we did a trek with a guide into the mountains – saw meditation caves where monks go deep into the complete darkness and spend hours in silent meditation, had lunch made for us in a village at a family’s home, peaked into homes where tobacco was being cured ($1/1 kilo), saw countless farmers and their families along the way, everyone working on the land but stopping long enough to intently stare at us for a few minutes with a big smile on their face. Small villages and friendly children made this day one of almost surreal enjoyment!



Hitch hiked to Kalaw, our first ride was a man who worked at a nearby winery. He took us there for the tour, it was a stunning place! Too bad it was 9 a.m., too early to enjoy the fruits of the land. In Kalaw, with the help of an incredibly friendly man (“a diamond Inle rough”), we got onto a local “pick-up truck” headed toward Bagan. We were privileged enough to get the front seat with the driver, while there was at least 15 people (including near infants) riding on the top of the back of the truck. Was a steep and windy road through the mountains, and 60 miles took about 6 hours. Made it as far as Meiktilla, and after finding a guesthouse which allowed foreign people to stay there we realized we were in what could possibly have been a converted insane asylum into a ‘hotel’, but had surprisingly pleasant dreams there and woke up lobotomy-free, which was nice. Left One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest after breakfast and after countless more utterly overcrowded pick-ups we made it to Mt. Popa on the afternoon of my birthday. A truly picturesque place, Mt. Popa is an extinct volcano (considered the “Mount Olympus” of Burma) with a stunning pagoda at the peak, 777 stairs up. Monkeys run freely everywhere in the temple and the steep climb is worth the view from the top!




As we came on our own with random local transport, we ended up getting a bit ‘stuck’ there and the nearest guesthouse that allowed foreigners was a 2 mile walk away. While Ritchie was cussing profusely in English and about to let loose on a drunk Burmese man, a monk who had been standing nearby asked us if we would be interested in staying at the monastery with the other monks who lived there for the evening. Stunned at his impeccable English and extreme generosity, we hopped in a car with a local driver and all the sudden our ominous situation turned bright and we had big goofy smiles on our faces the way to the monastery. Met with the head monk who had lived there for 30 years, and some young novices as well… drank lots of tea and was expecting only that, as monks don’t eat after lunchtime. But we were treated with such reverence while we were there, and in fact they prepared us a feast for dinner – about 8 to 10 different dishes with tea and rice – delicious! Everyone sat just near the table and watched us eat, interested in what we thought of every single bite. Was the most unique and sober birthday I have ever had, and as the night ended sleeping on the hard wood floor I couldn’t contain the euphoric feeling that comes along with living a life of such minimalism.



A slight bit of food poisoning followed the dinner, but things like this are to be expected in foreign countries, and we made our way to Bagan after saying goodbye to our new friends in Mt. Popa. Had the standard long, local, jam-packed transport, and I realized if you close your eyes for more then 15 seconds, whether it be from dust or exhaustion, when you open them every single person on the inside of the truck (so normally about 18 people) is staring at you like you are the National Geographic special. Not the first time I’ve had this feeling, but bizarre nonetheless. Bagan is an ancient capital city with thousands of temples and it feels like you are in the middle of the African dessert peddling your bicycle around and seeing all the beautiful structures spread out over 16 miles. We watched a sunset from the top of a temple and the tranquil feeling from this moment is something I wish I could re-live every day.



Back to Rangoon for our last days (and Ei Ei’s birthday)! We met some captivating fellow travelers on the trip, and Ritchie and I both agreed that people who come to visit Burma are not your average yuppie Southeast Asian backpacker. Although there aren’t many tourists there, we saw the same few people popping up in a couple cities, and was nice to tie it all back together with them in Rangoon for the last night. We never felt any direct threats from the junta while we were there, and actually some good conversations came up about the true state of the Burmese people. Ritchie (and some others) believed that they generally had a good life and weren’t incredibly affected by the oppressive junta in their day to day world. People weren’t starving on the streets and no genocide was being inflicted.

For my own self, I found it difficult not to empathize and ache so much for these people – there are mandatory curfews (9 p.m.) and you are not allowed to spend the night outside of your home or you risk 6 months imprisonment. The junta is notorious for using forced labor and of the 50 poorest countries in the world they receive the least amount of humanitarian aid. Sanctions are imposed by the EU and the US because of the brutal government, and yet this directly pushes Burma into the arms of China and Russia and does absolutely nothing to improve the lives of the Burmese people. There are over 2,000 political prisoners in Burma’s jails… people are serving decades for ‘pro-democratic activities’. While the junta moved the capital to the middle of nowhere and put up a fortress around themselves, the average wage of a Burmese worker is between $25 – 40/month. The guide who took us on the trek at Inle Lake, when we were on a break in the middle of the mountains, took a stick and drew the voting process for us in the dirt. If you put a “check” mark that means you are in favor of the current military government. If you put an “X” that means you are against, and thereby for “The Lady”, Aung San Suu Kyi. If you put that "X", you are directly imprisoned for 2 weeks. Imagine if you have a family depending on you and as it is you make wages far below the poverty line… it is impossible for you to vote the way that you want.

I can go on and on with thoughts about Burma, and apparently I already have. If you are interested, check out some information, and as you see on many shirts and bags there, “Remember (name of city here)”. These are beautiful people who don’t want the world to forget about them – I know that I never will! There were times when I wasn't sure I would survive this country.... I thought my heart might burst with love!

http://www.burma-network.com//

To quote again a very compassionate leader…
“Many indeed are the uses of adversity, and one of the most valuable is the unique opportunity it offers for discovering little-known aspects of the human society in which we live”
Aung San Suu Ky

And as another wise woman once said…
“I’ve got my freedom, I’ve got the life!”
Nina Simone

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Tounge Thai-ed

I could just work every day, make more money, save up, keep saving, not spend money, work and work, everyday, lots of money, don't touch it, grow old, with lots of money, stop working, go places, lots of places, spend money, lots of money, look around and say to myself I'd trade some of this money to be young again...Or...

Brian Colón aka Moon Boots aka Jared


I love my friends for so many reasons. Some provide constant comedy for which myself and my abs are eternally grateful. Others seem to have an incredible insight into the world, regardless of where they live or where they’ve been. Some friends are so wise and inspiring; some are so loving and supportive. Some are high maintenance and some seem to disappear and reappear at arbitrary intervals. Some friends have let me down, and some friends I have let down myself. Some friendships have developed in ways I never envisioned and it’s extremely pleasing. Some friends have points of views I really don’t understand, some seem so lost and unhappy in this world, some are bursting at the seams with bliss. Some are simple minded, some downright ignorant, some exceptionally educated and others just worldly enough to pull anything off. Some friends are rich and some are poor. Some are black, some are white, some are Asian, some are Latin and everywhere in between. Some are gay and some are straight. Some like to sing and dance and celebrate life in a socially extreme manner, some like to stay in and read and enjoy good conversation. Some like to brag and some are so humble. Variety really is the spice of life.

In the last month I have said goodbye to 4 wonderful friends – Petra, who made her way to New Zealand for a new adventure. Ian, who headed back to San Francisco after teaching English here in Chiang Mai. Ulrika, a Swedish friend who moved back to Portland for University. Molly, my neighbor and partner in crime who went on a whirlwind world tour before coming back to Cambodia to work. Chokdee ka (good luck) to my girls!

A few weeks ago Ulrika, Alison and I went to Mae Sai, Myanmar, to extend our visas. We met at 6 a.m. at a temple near their place, up early enough to see the monks doing their morning alms (much more enjoyable then the few times I have still been awake and witnessed it, after one too many whiskey and red bulls). Hopped a bus and enjoyed a beautiful ride through northern Thailand – the closer we got to Myanmar the more mountainous it became. With an iPod and a window seat I feel incredibly tranquil and reflective on buses and miss the constant motion that life ‘on the road’ has to offer.

Crossed into Burma by walking over the Friendship Bridge, content with our new visas and the fresh stamps in our passports. Spent the afternoon walking around the markets – they have a plethora of very cheap things. There seems to be an abundance of fake Marlboro’s going around, and what good would carton upon carton of cigarettes do without Zippo lighters with pictures of Saddam Hussein on them? He seemed to be popping up on all the playing cards too. After good laughs with locals explaining we didn’t really wanna rock products with pictures of murderous dictators on them we had a predictably not-so-tasty Burmese meal (Thai food spoils everyone).

Missed the last direct bus to Chiang Mai, so opted to head to Chiang Rai, which is a couple of hours closer to CM, with plans to catch a bus from there. In Chiang Rai met with the disappointment of the last bus being full, they wouldn’t even let us put the little plastic kiddie chairs in the aisle like the locals get to do. Gave hitch hiking an honest effort – after 6 months of thumbing it in Colorado I thought it would be a breeze, but no one was going quite as far as we needed to go. An ex-police officer, Mr. Boonchew, pulled over to help us, talked to drivers in Thai, even called the highway patrol to see if we could ride in a cruiser down that way. No dice. And as the rain started pouring and the hours had passed on we decided to take him up on his offer to spend the night at his house. The 3 of us slept in his bed and he slept on a bamboo mat on the hard floor in the other room. We turned off the lights and giggled like 12 year olds as we lay in some random guys dirty (no offense, Mr. B) bed – but he was a good Buddhist man and went so far out of his way to help us, we felt nothing but appreciative and were fast asleep in his spartan digs . The next morning we bid farewell to our hero, Mr. B. We printed the picture we took with him and called his English speaking daughter to get his address, so he’ll never forget the night 3 Western girls slept in his bed at once!




Have been on and off working at a primary school just outside the city center. Funny to be at a real Thai school and not a language institute where I work normally. I get to eat lunch in the cafeteria with hundreds of kids – such a trip, I haven’t eaten lunch in a primary school cafeteria, since, well, I was in primary school. One teacher always looks out for me and leads me by the hand to the kitchen and makes my plate for me and carries it over to my spot at the table, where I eat by myself every single time. I don’t think anyone is confident enough in their English to attempt a conversation, so I eat my unbelievably spicy food alone and then go to the garden to read a book during the kids break time. Fantastic to have uninterrupted time to read, write and think. During lunch some mysterious old lady brings me a pork soup (pork, oil & water) – I can’t stand pork, but I notice that nobody else in the cafeteria seems to get this exceptional dish, which makes me think it’s something of a prestige to receive meat when others don’t. I take 2 bites out of kindness and hide the rest away under my dirty dishes, hoping my guardian angel and the anonymous Grandmother won’t notice.

One of the girls I work with takes me there and picks me up each time, as I don’t have a motorbike of my own. One afternoon while leaving there we got into an accident – coming around a kind of roundabout, where a street has the chance to merge onto the ‘highway’. A truck coming from that street wasn’t paying attention and hit us, we both flew off the motorbike and it went under the front of the truck. This wasn’t just a pickup, but a massive work style truck with a flatbed in back. He had nearly no speed at the time (luckily!) but the size and the force scraped us both up pretty good and the police, EMT and my boss all said we had to go to the hospital as standard procedure. No biggie in the end, just some bruises and cuts and Noi had to have some x-rays after she hit her head so hard her helmet broke. Mai bpen rai, mai bpen rai. Or, whatever whatever. Thai people use this phrase as a coverall for absolutely everything, it’s practically a lifestyle (I dig it!).

In class one day I asked the students to recall their best and worst childhood memories. Baek, a 24 year old from Korea, told the class that his best childhood memory was getting a puppy and taking care of it as it grew up. His worst childhood memory was when his grandmother ate it. One day it was just gone, she made it into soup. Cold blooded. C’est la vie.

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the gods drink whiskey

Who would have thought that the ultimate cleansing and renewing would come from nasty moat water? April 13-15 is the celebration of the Thai New Year – Songkran! Originally at this time people would cleanse their Buddha statues and the water left over from that was supposed to be a blessing when you put a little handful on the back of someone’s neck. Now, the holiday has turned into complete and total madness, a ridiculous and unbelievably fun free for all. My first time getting soaked was on the Saturday before the holiday officially started – I was riding in the back of a songtaew (communal cab with bench seats in the back) and a van pulled up next to us. All of the sudden the windows flew down and 5 guys with water guns just nailed me with freezing cold water. They had such child-like glimmers in their cheery eyes and I was doubled over with laughter. Loved it. Then we stopped at another light and seeing how much I enjoyed the first round they decided to go for part duex – after a relentless bombardment I hit the floor of the songtaew and covered my purse, laughing so hard I could barely breath laying there on the disgusting floor where thousands of people have had their grimy feet. Good times!

Monday morning met with some friends bright and early, locked and loaded with the best water guns Baht can buy. We had been told that the east side of the moat was filled with farang, the south side was pretty quiet, the west side was more ‘family friendly’ and the north side was hard core Thai. The description could not have been more apt. We started on the west side and I realized if that was the family friendly side then the north side must be a wet, watery war zone! People set up stands selling big trash cans and enormous blocks of ice – the thing to do is set up shop somewhere along the moat and fill the trash can with ice and moat water, of which there is an endless supply. If there were thousands of people who had done this along the moat then there were also thousands who had done this in the back of their trucks. The traffic was at a near standstill, but every car on the road was a truck with no less than 10 people in the back – every one of them with water guns and buckets to rein terror from the road. It goes without saying that you are beyond soaking wet the entire day, there is no safe or dry place in the entire city. Even inside my apartment with the door locked I wouldn’t have put it passed someone to find a way to drench me. It took hours to walk up the west side of the moat, but when we made it to the north side it was all worth it. OHHHHH my!

Now the people in the back of the trucks have on helmets with goggles so there is no phasing them and their resolve to destroy you with their intense weaponry. Hoses and freezing cold water became the norm. I learned the phrase yen mak (very cold!) very quick. After a couple more hours of battle we stopped off for a bottle of vodka to celebrate being part of such an exuberant and superb holiday, even if it was just in a marginal way. After that, thoroughly enjoyed a couple more hours of lunacy on the north side and eventually made our way to farangville over on the east side. Laaaame! I have been so saturated with work and the friends I have here I’ve almost forgotten how many tourists come to Chiang Mai. That night I slipped down a flight of stairs at a bar. Not my finest hour. The combo of being as wet as when you just get out of a shower, flip flops, hard wood floors and alcohol should be averted.

Tuesday, back in action again – this time spent half of the day listening to live music at the stages set up near a mall just outside the city center. The people on stage had hoses and were spraying the crowd (and the million tangled power lines) all day long. I lost my Marc Jacob sunglasses but still had a severe inclination to boogie all night.

Wednesday – only the strong survive. Nearly all of my friends bailed on going because the first 2 days were so draining. Waaaah. Songkran happens just once a year (and maybe once in a lifetime), you gotta buck up. Hit it hard, again. Standard.

When the week ended and it was back to regular life and work I have to say it was quite disheartening. I wish every day could be a day to ‘play Songkran’. I am not sure I’ve ever had such a good time in my life!

Have been teaching so much lately… private lessons every day for 2 weeks with a girl named Erika from Japan. Her and her daughter are getting ready to go to India for 6 months so she wanted to get some serious English practice in before she left. An unbelievable person, so happy to have met her and spent so much time with her. Either they really love me at my job or they love that my hourly rate is low since I’m new, but I have more classes/hours than almost anyone else. Definitely more than any of the other ‘new’ people…. Have moved on to teaching college students and its incredible! They love to talk, it’s so easy to get creative and have fun with them and it’s great to watch them improve and be able to carry on conversations. I have realised how lucky I am to be a native English speaker – everyone wants to learn the language and it’s not easy, especially coming from a tonal language like Thai where they don’t use the Roman alphabet.

About 2 weeks ago I moved into a big house with 3 other friends. It’s just near the University and the foot of the mountain – the location is excellent and the clear view we have of the mountain and Doi Suthep (most important Buddhist temple in the north) is majestic, to say the least. The food and bars near here are cheap because of all the students and it’s about a 20 minute walk to work. Our house has a literal bar inside of it, which we’ve dubbed “4 Nations” as we’re from Sweden, Canada, England and America. Me and 3 guys – it’s been insightful. Today is Buddha’s birthday – and also the day that he reached Nirvanna and the day that he died after 80 years of living. Last night at midnight thousands of monks and people from all over walked up the mountain to visit Doi Suthep and be there at sunrise. Slightly different from the birthday of Jesus, which is celebrated with materialism and money.

Some of the temples here have BB gun shooting practice on the weekends, some have massive amounts of food stands set up with all kinds of tasty provisions. Some have temple parties and near cabaret shows for special occasions and others are as tranquil and serene as any place you could envision. People leave little glasses of their best liquor outside as an offering of thanks. I am so glad the entire world is not blanketed in Jesus uniformity, because this is an oceanic feeling of cultural solidarity!

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just a quick hop, skip & a jump

Even living in a place that seems like a holiday destination for a lot of people I still feel excited to get away and travel a bit nearly all the time. My visa was set to expire on the 29th of March, so, on the 28th headed on the overnight bus to Vien Tiene, the capital of Laos, to renew it. When buying the bus ticket you can get “VIP”, first class or second class. I am always on the look-out for a deal and have a hard time paying full price for anything anymore…. I asked the lady at the counter if they had a “third class” that maybe they just didn’t tell us farang (foreigners) about. She had a good laugh and told me that the second class was only 400 Baht (about $12 US) for a 12 hour bus ride. To my dismay, the time schedule for the second class wasn’t possible because I had to work – so all the sudden I was stuck on first class. Stupid first class with all the first class people thinking they’re so great. Pfff… and it cost 560 Baht ($16 US).

I settled in to my grossly over-priced first class bus, sitting conveniently behind 2 monks with their seats all the way back, probably in some fantastic first class meditative state that I can only dream about. The seats are for Asian proportioned people, of course, and my long legs don’t seem to ever fit into the picture. Then a lovely little Thai woman about my age sits next to me with a massive smile and I feel happy we’re going to share these next 12 hours sitting next to each other. About 2 minutes before the bus pulls away, another lovely Thai woman with a massive smile comes on and hands a 1 year old baby girl to the lovely Thai woman sitting next to me. Massive smiles all around. Yea! Directly next to an infant on a cramped bus for 12 hours. Thank God, Buddha, Allah, everyone for eye masks and iPods.

Early morning at the boarder of Laos I met 2 guys who were as naturally white as I am, no bleaching of the skin for these Western boys! Mike from Sweden and James from England (speaking fluent Thai to a tuk-tuk driver). I go stand next to them and listen in on the bartering, because of course by default from here on out we were together in our travels, bound by being farang on a notorious Thai visa run. At immigration pick up Bryan from San Francisco and together we headed straight for a restaurant with huts on the Mekong River for some large Beer Lao’s. Shared rooms, beers and a combined total of about 5 hours at the Thai embassy for the next 2 days. I learned an incredible amount about the minds of men on this trip – I can honestly say I will never be the same again. Part of me wants to go back to being blissfully ignorant and part of me is glad to know what I know now, so I never fully trust those wankers again! Was all in good fun though – we saw absolutely not one thing of culture or interest in Laos, only the bottom of a few too many large Beer Lao’s on the banks of the mighty Mekong River, which isn’t so mighty at all at the peak of this hot and dry season.

Left Laos with a visa that allows me another 6 months in Thailand – perfect. Have to make one quick run over the border to Myanmar after 3 months…that ain’t no thang but a chicken wang.



Teaching is going splendidly – have been working a lot with 8-10 year old kids… they are the best! They can speak enough English to get by and they love to have fun and are really attentive and wonderful. Also have some classes with teens. And, well, teens are teens. All over the world they’re little shit heads apparently! No, they are sweet most the time… and I gotta give it to them cause this is summer session right now. The boy I teach private lessons to brought me 2 fancy pieces of chocolate cake from a bakery… I guess he liked us each pretending to be Godzilla and chasing each other around the room at the end of our last lesson together. Life is good!

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it surely looks like rain

Let me preface this with a quote from the book This Is It, by Alan Watts:

“cosmic consciousness” – To the individual thus enlightened it appears as a vivid and overwhelming certainty that the universe, precisely as it at this moment, as a whole and in every one of its parts, is so completely right as to need no explanation or justification beyond what it simply is. Existence not only ceases to be a problem; the mind is so wonder-struck at the self-evident and self sufficient fitness of things as they are, including what would ordinarily be thought the very worst, that it cannot find any word strong enough to express the perfection and beauty of the experience. Its clarity sometimes gives the sensation that it is pervaded and ordered by a supreme intelligence. At the same time it is usual for the individual to feel that the whole world has become his own body, and that whatever he is has not only become, but has always been, what everything else is.
The central core of the experience seems to be the conviction, or insight, that the immediate now, whatever its nature, is the goal and fulfillment of all living. Surrounding and flowing from this insight is an emotional ecstasy, a sense of intense relief, freedom, and lightness, and often of almost unbearable love for the world…

It seemed like the rain would never end in Amsterdam. Months and months of overcast, cold, drizzly days near the North Sea. I didn’t mind because it’s such an incredible city and I had a true family of friends; all of us living in one spot, sharing our days, nights, meals and lives together. My time in Central America coincidentally fell just during their rainy season as well. The south was not a problem, but in Guatemala I got stuck in some massive downpours and spent many days with books under a hut. Didn’t mind it there either because it made everything so lush and emerald colored.

Then Singapore. Ohhh, Singapore. At first the weather was great – warm and sunny, palm trees and shopping malls, swimming pools and sports cars… it could have been California. In the fall came my first experience of a true ‘monsoon season’. The rain came out of nowhere, fast and hard. Sometimes it came down straight, but more often than not it seemed to flow sideways. Instant pools would form on the marble sidewalks and I was convinced the rain even came from below, shooting up instead of falling down. I felt like Forest Gump in that part of the movie where he’s trapped in such incessant rain. The details escape me but it was a really Forest Gump-like feeling anyway…

Thailand is known for some massive amounts of rain. One horrible reminder of that is being in the south on the islands, some of which were the hardest hit spots of the Tsunami in 2004. Devastation and death spared no one; it’s chilling to see the pictures of people hung on walls of bars and restaurants, a memorial to friends and family lost in such an incredible act of nature.

In the north the rains aren’t as frequent as in the south, and for the past months Chiang Mai has really felt a bit like what I would imagine living in a desert feels like. It’s not that sauna-like feel of Singapore with its soaking wet heat… but the kind of heat like when people in Arizona justify their 115 degree temps by saying “Ohhh, but it’s a dry heat”. Yeah, it’s like that. A big, beautiful, blue skied, mountainous, palm treed Thai desert.

Until the 17th of March. It was a night like any other… which are actually nights like no other at all. I was with friends - Chris (England), Katia (Paris), Karishma (India), EiEi (Burma). We found a little alley way type open air family run store that had some tables set up outside for locals to come and take a load off, enjoy a large, cold Chang beer for about $1US… or a glass of homemade rice wine for 6 baht (20 cents US). Being the vagabonds we’ve become the 20 cent glasses of rice wine (imagine clear rubbing alcohol in a glass. Can be used to clean the floor, or spruce up the night) made our little hearts leap with happiness. If you dilute it with enough water it tastes a bit like Clearly Canadian. Ahh, the memories.

The family that runs the store took us in like we were their long lost foreign children. The most outspoken of the bunch, Mikey (Mouse) and his pal who’s name I never even caught, are men in their 60’s who apparently enjoy serenading near strangers with English love songs, dancing in the street and laughing for what I dare say was no reason at all. No reason being all the reason you need, I guess! After they introduced us to the 20 cent glasses of homemade Chinese whiskey (yikes!) we were all best of pals. I was hammin’ it up with them so much, from the outside it must have been difficult to tell who was crazier, them or me.

And then came the rain. The first I have felt here in the north. EiEi is the cutest, tiniest little person I have ever seen in my life. She comes from Rangoon, Myanmar and when we stand next to each other she comes up to about the bottom of my ribcage. She’s terrified of the rain. She dashed back to her place with the look of frightened mouse on her face. In the meantime, the crazy Western girls, Katia & I, danced in the rain like it was our job. In fact it was our job this night – to celebrate such a simple and commonplace thing as a little bit of rain and to make everyone laugh and come together and realize how being ridiculous can be so necessary and so pleasurable all at once.

The women in the family put our purses in plastic bags and hung them on nails so they didn’t have to touch the floor or get wet. Eventually we all squeezed in around the table under the awning and enjoyed a snug little family atmosphere while the rain continued to downpour and the little boy of the family had an English workbook in his bag and all the sudden he had 4 very buzzed English teachers, every 6 year olds dream, I’m sure.

I couldn’t help but think of the Buddhists outlook on life, or more specifically, on the non-existence of an after-life as we Westerners tend to perceive it. Their philosophy is if there is no next world, then this world becomes holy. I left there feeling as effervescent as could be, glad the rain fell to bring about a little ‘cosmic consciousness’ and the overwhelming feeling of love for the world…

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The Rose of the North

Ahhh, Chiang Mai. The second largest city in the country, the aptly named 'rose of the north'. A charming old city, established in 1296 - sacked by the Burmese (twice) and now considered the 'cultural capital' of Thailand. There's a moat that runs in a pefect square around the center of the city, with old castle wall ruins on each corner. Fountains, flowers and wats (Buddhist temples) permeate the landscape. Some days I think I see more orange robed monks then bohemian style tourists.

I left Singapore in December, managed to escape the most rule ridden country I can imagine without one slight infringement. Maybe the fact that they charge $8 for a bottle of beer helped keep me such a law abiding citizen....saw malls give birth to other malls in the time that I was there... beautiful to witness the true miracle of life.

After countless dodgy buses through Malaysia and one death trap boat ride I landed in Thailand. The path North was paved with beaches, beers, sunscreen, surongs, dance parties, spicy food, coconut shakes, like-minded wanderers, wretched bus rides, beautiful sunsets and just a few paralyzing days of some sort of food poisoning...

Bravin' it through Bangkok and the ancient capital of Ayuthaya for a bit, night train to Chiang Mai and couldn't sit still so headed more West, toward the boarder of Myanmar. Mountains and chilly weather filled me with a giddy delight, as did the fantastic group of friends that came together in those few weeks. Elephants and huts and motorbikes, ohhh my.

Then came a crash course month in teaching English... have been to like 6 colleges and in about 6 years but Cambridge whooped my ass! At the end of four weeks I felt a bit dead inside... like yesterdays flower. Mid-way through the fifth day after the course was over I sprung back to life (as did the other people that stayed here after it was over) - we started livin' the Chiang Mai way... bottles of whiskey at a bar for about $10, and keep em comin'.

It's not all just whiskey and roses here.... have been doing 'monk chat' at a wat near my apartment, Wat Suan Dok, built in the 1300's. It's stunning and on a clear day you have a view of all the mountains just behind it. The monks want to practice English so they invite people to come and have a chat... I've been reading random Buddhist books for years and like almost all Americans it's nearly impossible to really put any of it into context when you're a world away from it. Cause even heading to a temple in the States you're walking outside into a whoooole different world, filled with attachment and craving. Here there are little spirit houses and places to make offerings on every corner. It's been 'enlightening' to talk with such humble and understanding men. Most are from Cambodia, a country with an incredibly violent history and yet an incredibly resiliant attitude. I don't subscribe fully to Buddhism or any other form of organised religion, but they are certainly worth emulating in day to day life.

Now there are just 2 of us left here and we've spent 2 weeks tramping around, looking for jobs, because we're both equally as poor at this point. It's strictly street side food for us, 70 cent plates and you can bring in your own bottle of rice wine for an additional 70 cents, so we're gettin' by quite alright. When you have nothing and want nothing, you're free!

And, I found a job and got a 6 month contract! It's summer school in Thailand at the moment, so it was actually a bit difficult to find anything, I feel really lucky because I love the place where I am and it's 2 streets away from where I live. The New Zealand Educational Services Language Institute... it's bright and colorful and full of lots of life and lots of resources (rare for Thai schools). Started yesterday and they throw you right into the blooming, buzzing confusion of a class full of 4 year olds who speak almost no English whatsoever. There were 6 girls, all dressed fully in pink. There was one little boy who came in late, threw up everywhere and then left. Not sure if it was all the pink or he just didn't feel like screaming at the top of his lungs, running around in circles and jumping on my back like the rest of them....

Today they put up a united front against me - sticking out their tongues, not listening whatsoever, telling me 'no'... screaming 'no' is maybe a more fitting way to describe what they were doing. I won them over with tickling and piggy back rides, like the giant sized American big sister they never had.

A week or two of babysitting the cutest little devils I've ever seen and I can move on to adults, thank Buddha ;)

So, for now am enjoying the irrepressible satisfaction with the gift of life. Am spending more time with Thai friends, and it's as entertaining as any blockbuster movie. It's as hot as an oven here sometimes... good thing I'm cool as a cucumber.

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