Cali, Colombia

Left Medellin on a Friday morning for a stunning drive to Cali, all the while trying to block out the highly disturbing film that was playing on the bus. Gotta love ipods. Enjoyed the immense mountains, dramatic drop offs and small towns all along the way. That evening arrived in Cali and was met by Jose, who I arranged to stay with for the weekend via Couch Surfing. Before I knew it we were zipping crazily along the streets of his city on the way to his home, where we met his sister and shortly after went to meet his mother and father who were having a beer nearby. My Spanish isn’t exactly comprehensible at this point, so we communicated through Jose who’s quite proficient in Spanish and English alike. After a quick Cerveza Poker, we headed to pick up Anita and were merrily on our way to a popular local salsa bar, La Fuente. It was tiny and packed inside with people dancing and there were at least a hundred people on the side walk and street drinking and dancing as well. It’s here I learned what an institution that salsa really is to this country, and specifically to this city.

Cali is known as the salsa capital of Colombia, and thereby could really be the salsa capital of the world! As the night went on we were joined by Jose’s amazing friends, all of whom I feel lucky to have met. I attempted to follow the feet of the girls and watched how they moved, to see if it was possible for my tall, uncoordinated self to dance such a quick and flowing step. While I had a great time trying, I definitely was doing something which only very slightly resembled the actual dance. Enter into the picture Aguardiente, the Sambuca like drink which people buy by the bottle at bars and take shots of all night long, passing around plastic shot glasses you receive when you purchase this deliciously devilish liquor. A few dozen shots later and all the sudden I’m feeling the dance a little bit more. Whether the dance was feeling me is another thing entirely. Either way, had a tremendous time with Jose, his friends from Cali and foreign friends as well!

Saturday was naturally feeling a little bit like I got hit by a truck, so often the price you pay for such a night. But Lucia’s large homemade lunch revived my spirit and my stomach, and I sat there in amazement at the fact that an entire family plus myself was sitting down to a fresh, hot meal in the middle of the afternoon. It seems like in the U.S. it’s a stretch to even have that happen for dinner anymore, so lunch on a Saturday was a real treat! Jose, his parents, brother and I all headed to a town called Pance, about 30 minutes from Cali, in the mountains and on a river. Jose and I swam in the beautifully clear and frigid mountain water and I adore situations like this because it really does feel so out of the ordinary.

After some sangria by the pool of a friends place, we went for cholados, a delicious and colorful mix of tropical fruits, condensed milk, shaved ice and a wafer cookie. Before going out that night also had some great little empanadas and champús, which is probably now my new favorite thing in the world. It’s a mix of lulo (a delightful fruit only found in Colombia), pineapple, corn and a plant called limoncillo – almost like a drink but you need to use a spoon because of the corn. A.ma.zing.

Salsa dancing round 2. At Tin Tin Deo, a spacious and stylish spot for both locals and foreigners, the people do not mess around! It was fantastic to watch – most of the time people switch partners continuously, so you can see how everybody seems to work together and how different that the same basic dance can be. It’s really quite beautiful and festive and makes me wish I knew how to move my hips like that! When talking about religious fanatics, I told Jose that I’d gone to a high school which was so absurd it didn’t allow dances…. he reckoned that’s why I don’t understand how to salsa. Maybe I like Widespread Panic so much because there I can dance. Or so I think I can dance.

Somehow more aguardiente and beer went ‘down the hatch’, another remarkable night in Cali! Ate late night food at a place called Mario Brothers, felt just like home. Sunday morning Jose and I went for some pandebono, a baked ring of cheese bread, and also some seafood empanadas, my favorite kind yet. Despite wanting to gag at the thought of alcohol, gave a couple sips of Crema de Viche and Tomaseca (liquors from the Pacific area) a try, as it might be my first and last time to do so. That day we wandered around Cali, and Jose was the best tour guide I could ask for! We saw all the places on the check list and I really feel like I got a good grasp on what the city has to offer.

After some nice churches, buildings, rivers and views of the city from high up, we made our way to the amphitheater where the world festival of salsa 2010 was being held all week. Incredible! A free event and packed to the brim, we took a seat and listened to the entire crowd make noise and music – people had brought their own instruments and everyone was in such an exuberant mood, it was exceptional to be a part of! There were 51 groups, and we stayed until the very end, each one seeming to be better than the last.

Monday morning I said goodbye to Jose and to Cali – and I am still kind of in awe as to what a perfect time I had there and to what a considerate and warm hearted person that Jose is (and also his family and friends). I know that had I gone to Cali by myself, or even with another traveler, there’s no way that I could have experienced the city through eyes like that!

"Sucursal del Cielo" - branch of heaven

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Medellín, Colombia

I haven’t been here long enough to make any real analysis of Colombia as a whole – but I can say for certain that it’s hard to believe Medellin was once the most dangerous city in the world. It feels exotic and a bit edgy, but not too much of either. I was welcomed off the plane by Pablo Carvajal, someone who I met through a great resource called Couch Surfing. I saw his smiling face and a sign with my name, and was immediately at ease after a red eye flight from LA to this new continent. We rode in his car to a great restaurant where I had my first Colombian meal – arepa (thin bread made from corn), rice, beans, fish, salad and platano (plantain) for dessert. Yes! Back to the tipico meal!

I went with Pablo to his home and met his lovely mother… they were both so welcoming and she gave me a bracelet that I love so much, I’m not sure that I could have picked a better one myself! We went for delicious desserts and then I took the bus into Medellin city center. I went to the apartment of Kevin Post, also a Couch Surfer who transplanted from the US to Colombia. Immediately entered a party which lasted until the wee hours of the night… tested out the Colombian rum (pass) & attempted to dance the salsa (fail).

Checked into Palm Tree Hostel ($9/night, good for socializing, horrible beds) for a few days and have met some very interesting and intelligent people. I feel elated by the new perspectives and stimulating insights. It feels great to affirm once again why I love travel so much! The growth and experiences cannot be equated in other environments.



Medellin is a mountainous city, and three times I’ve rode up different cable cars to the tops of the mountains to have a view over the city. The amazing thing is that the slums are located up the sides of these lush hills, so you get a very close bird’s eye view of an area of the city you probably would never see otherwise! Amazing to see the dilapidated tin roofs, crumbling brick buildings, clothes lying flat to dry everywhere there’s space, kids running around, dogs barking, people cooking, music playing… life is everywhere in this area.



Have wandered all over the city on foot, there are plenty of parks and museums to see. One of my favorite areas is Parque Berrio, where there are sculptures everywhere by famous Colombian artist Fernando Botero. I love art museums because they express the ideology and culture of an area so much more than any words can ever say. At the Museo de Antioquia there are so many Catholic scenes depicted, and of course all the portraits of important people are males with fair skin. This predictable uniformity saddens me – but it is the reality of South America and I know I need to get used to it. There is plenty of amazing art that expresses the real passion of the people here and I loved getting to know it through their work!



Got vaccinated for free for the Yellow Fever, so check that disease off the list for the next 20 years. Went with Pablo to his University while he did some paper work – was nice to be there and have that collegiate feeling once again, but only as a tourist this time. All in all, Medellin has two thumbs up in my book. A nice way to start off this South American adventure!

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a peak into Cambodia

After all these months of being stationary, I realized I forgot to even mention word of Cambodia, one of the countries I’ve visited which had the most impact on me. After a tearful goodbye to Chiang Mai & my lovely family of friends there, I took the overnight bus to Bangkok and then local buses to the Cambodian border. I first made my way to Siem Reap, which was at that point the place I wanted to visit more than anywhere in the entire world.



Just 3.5 miles away lies Angkor Wat, a complex of huge, beautiful, enchanting temples which are the essence of Khmer architecture. Built in the 1100’s, Angkor Wat was at one point the center of power for all of Southeast Asia. Hard to believe that center could reside in Cambodia, which today is a genocide tattered fraction of the glorious nation it once was. But the temples remain, some looking more like ruins then anything, but stoic & stunning nonetheless. I rented a bike for a few days in the town, and the time I spent alone, peddling through all the many miles of amazing Angkor Wat, are among my best days in all of Southeast Asia. The temperatures were scorching hot, so I would leave my $1 outdoor, mosquito net covered dorm bed very early in the morning, sit in the shade somewhere for an hour or two during lunch & the peak of sunshine, and continue on until sunset before returning to town.



I made 3 friends in Siem Reap that I went out with every night & drank way too much cheap whiskey with – but each morning when I left for Angkor Wat I left alone. There was something so profound to me about this place, I had to soak it in in my own time, in my own way, and the feeling of euphoria & connectedness I had there cannot be paralleled.



With the friends I’d made at the guesthouse, we moved from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia. The drinks we consumed on the bus ride there had us feeling a little goofy on our stereotypically insane tuk-tuk ride through the city once we arrived. I had a very good friend from Thailand living there at the time, so I called good old downtown Molly Brown to meet us for dinner & drinks in this curious capital. We sat on the sidewalk of a decent place right along the Tonle Sap River, and had countless limbless people come to ask us for money during the course of our meal.



Something you might not know about Cambodians – they have been to the edge & back. Between 1975 – 1979, the leader of their country, Pol Pot, tortured, murdered, exterminated and drove to death through forced labor nearly 1/4 of the total population. This “cleansing” was aimed to bring civilization to “Year Zero”, through killing all educated people (including people that could merely read or wore eye glasses) and having a peasant class which served as a collective/Communist society. There is an entire generation of people in Cambodia that almost doesn’t even exist today. An entire generation that doesn’t have parents, and many generations that live in distrust of their government or anyone around them. If you pick up a book such as First They Killed My Father, it’s not hard to see why.



The Viet Nam War ended in 1975. Although Cambodia wished to remain neutral, their proximity to Viet Nam cursed them to even more death & disaster. Because southern Viet Cong were escaping into Cambodia, America took the opportunity to carpet bomb the countryside in search of them, while innocent Cambodians paid the price. Today, Cambodia has one of the worst land mine problems in the entire world – it is not safe to wander off the beaten path there, as active land mines are triggered all the time. Hence, the limbless men, women & children roving the city. It’s upsetting & tragic to think of all these people have gone through & then to see the results in your face when you are in a city such as Phnom Pehn. Nevertheless, Cambodians are a very resilient people & they have a good Buddhist attitude for the most part.



Throughout my time in SE Asia I met a lot of Cambodian monks who impressed me more than almost any group of people I’ve ever met – that they could remain so peaceful & understanding after such utter devastation is beyond me. When you compare this attitude to the one of over-privileged Americans & Europeans who complain about things so trivial and worry about matters so meaningless, it makes me slightly nauseated.

Back to Phnom Pehn – had a good time with Molly, as always. It was different from our carefree attitude of Chiang Mai, however. In Cambodia we had some very real conversations; some very real tears were shed on both our ends when discussing the horrifying history of these people.



I went to visit a place called S-21 while I was there. A former high school turned security person under Pol Pot & the Khmer Rouge, it is the location where blameless Cambodians were brought in by the truck load everyday (about 20,000 people were brought there in 4 years) & repeatedly tortured in unspeakable ways & then brought to the Killing Fields for execution. The floors of the building are stained in deep, dark blood. Now a genocide museum, you can see instruments of torture on the floors of some rooms, along with the iron beds inmates were tied down to. There are entire rooms on the bottom floor filled with “mug shots” of people – the Khmer Rouge kept systematic records of everyone they persecuted. There are entire rooms filled with pictures of women & children who were brought in to S-21 to be brutally tortured and killed. I walked silently up & down the aisles of pictures and sobbed. A Cambodian woman grabbed me by the hand and said “look at them, look at the children”. The walls felt like they were caving in & I felt an inward desire to run away.



The last area of S-21 is filled with cells that prisoners were held in before being taken away for their imminent death. They are barely as big as a person can fit in width wise and not long enough to stretch your legs out while sitting. Blood again fills these floors & the bricks provide no sunlight or hope to anyone who must have been unfortunate enough to be in them. As I was in this room of cells there were also 2 monks quietly passing through, poking their heads in each one, contemplating, and then moving on. These cells started to feel like my own & I practically had to run out of there to get fresh air for fear that my lungs were going to collapse & I would suffocate under the sorrow. Imagine what the prisoners must have felt.



I took a motorbike taxi to the Killing Fields, where prisoners of S-21 were brought to die in mass graves. Walking around there it seemed like an oddly peaceful place; birds chirping, trees all around, away from the buzz of traffic & people. It started to rain which was such a blessing; because my emotions were so exhausted I hardly knew what to think anymore. I threw on a poncho & hopped on the back of my driver’s motorbike & away we went back to the city. There was a tremendous amount of traffic & I looked around to everyone else on their motorbikes… some entire families on one bike, some people who must have been over 80 or 90 years old, some infants, some monks, some professionals, some people in the oh-so-charming Cambodian style of wearing long sleeve & long pant pajama sets as regular clothes. All the sudden my heart, which felt so depleted after what I’d seen that day, was once again filled with hope & love for these incredible people. A monk on the back of a motorbike next to me must have caught my exuberant smile, because when we made eye contact I could see his eyes laughing & his whole face lite up in a gigantic smile as well. We were in it together – caught in the rain, on the back of motorbikes; dirt, people, animals and road side stands all around.

Cambodia touched my heart in a very special way – I cannot wait to return, hopefully to work teaching English to the people who want more than anything to be educated & make a better life for themselves & their families then what the generations before them have had.

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what's in a name?

that which we call a chili by any other name would smell as spicy.

The following is a compiled list I attempted to keep during my 10 months in Thailand of names that made me smile or puzzled me, some that made me chuckle when I would go back and think of them later and others that just plain had me doubled over the second I heard them. I'd like to say I was laughing with the people, although I'm not sure some would have got the joke...

These are nicknames that people use as opposed to their formal names. They are used almost all the time and nearly everyone has one.

Pancake
Jedi
Smile
Tiger & Lion (brothers)
Milk
Sing Sing
Oil
Pooh
Sea game
Santa
Pop
Pun
Bang
IQ
Beer
Freshie
Meow
Bird
Guy
Champoo (like 'shampoo')
Kangaroo
Moo
Sigh
No
Ice
Porn (more common than you would think)
On
Off
Get
New
Bong
Ant
A
Fang
Apple
Corn
Big
Little
Um
Ugly
Water
Gift
Saint
Poo Poo
Gun
Pipe
Film
Focus
Shogun
Bank
North

It's quite funny to have to call a student Santa or to attempt to address someone as Pancake without grinning. Although I wouldn't beckon Poo Poo as much as I would request Beer, all these names are an example of why I love Thai people so incredibly much! :)

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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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