Bali 3

Hello, dear readers. I'm sorry to have left you hanging for a while, but I just haven't felt like writing. Maybe the rice is starting to get to me. Anyway, after my disappointment in Sanur, I decided to go to the countryside. However, Paul suggested that I first check out some of the breaks on Nusa Lembongan peninsula, so I headed down there with Tankas (the driver) and Paul's son Nikko, an excruciatingly nice 20-year-old from Java. The southern peninsula is a beautiful, (relatively) sparsely populated thicket of low coastal forest, and it would have been a lovely place to stay. Unfortunately, the surf wasn't happening there either, so I headed up to Ubud, an artsy town in the middle of Bali. When I got there, after passing through countless miles of craft shops, it was drizzling. I followed a tout to a surprisingly lovely losmen (homestay), and, after settling in, wandered the streets for a little while. Ubud reminded me in many ways of Port Townsend, or Ashland; it's full of small galleries and nice restaurants, with well-off couples strolling serenely down the streets, looking for furnishings for their loft. The difference is that, this being Bali, everybody is trying a lot harder to sell you stuff. I had planned on visiting a few shops to find Christmas presents, but the overwhelming expectation that greeted me whenever I so much as turned my head towards a storefront was too intimidating, especially since I never like shopping alone (except for books). Instead, I aimlessly walked down the same street several times, had a too-expensive dinner alone, got rained on, and went to bed. The next day I decided to take a walk in the rice fields. The area around Ubud is undeniably beautiful, rice paddies interspersed with small farms and decent-looking houses. There was a very pleasant view from my losmen, and the walk was absolutely gorgeous. I had a nice lunch at a reasonably cheap organic farm and restaurant in the middle of the field, which made me nostalgic for Nash's. Everything was going great, until it started raining again. I was soaked within minutes, and didn't especially care, except that I also couldn't figure out where the trail went next. I ended up wandering through a residential neighborhood in a steep creek valley, making some exploratory ventures onto the margins of rice paddies, and, finally, finding a concrete path that lead me, mysteriously, back onto the trail I had already been on, going in the opposite direction. I don't think my sense of direction has ever failed me this thoroughly before, but at this point I was getting raw spots on my feet from the fine, wet gravel of the trail, so I was happy to get back. I didn't do much more until that evening, when I went to a traditional Balinese dance performance. These performances exemplify the conflict between tradition and profit present in many developing countries: traditionally performed as part of temple ceremonies, they are now presented nightly, in condensed form, to a crowd of generally rather bored foreigners. The show opened with some gamelan (traditional Indonesian metal xylophone) music, which is fabulously intricate and challenging, and sounds, to the casual Western listener, like clanking frenetic noise. I enjoyed watching the musicians wielding their metal hammers at high speed, and occasionally enjoyed a passage of the music, but the repetitive and foreign nature of the music kept me from really appreciating it. After a few minutes of this, the first dance began. Balinese dance involves a lot of slow hand movements and head twitches; this dance was pretty much exclusively that, and not very exciting. Luckily, all the dancers were women, so I was able to get through it by using standard dance-performance watch-the-hot-one strategy. The next dance was somewhat more interesting; a quite probably gay (although it could have just been the pancake makeup) male dancer did some intricate steps involving a fan, his coat, and a row of metal bells. Following this was a dance involving the witch Rangda. I was expecting it to be at least a bit exciting, but it was more twist-and-twitch stuff, and Rangda was quite the disappointment. This was followed by another  comparatively good one, called the bumblebee dance, which showed a courtship ritual between a male and female dancer. After this was a supposedly emotional dance, about an old man; emotional it may have been, but I was pretty tired of dance at this point, and I zoned out for most of it. The final dance was a battle scene from the Hindu epic, the "Mahabharata". This was quite well done, especially the part where the warriors used their giant umbrellas to simulate a chariot; however, I was pretty glad for the dance to be over so I could get back to bed. All I do is party...
The next day, I decided to climb Gunung Agung, the highest volcano on Bali. Typically, the climb is done at night, in order to arrive at the summit for the sunrise, so I planned on taking the day to see a few sights. I contacted a guide, arranged to meet him in a mountain town called Muncan, and tried to catch a bemo to the town of Gianyar. I ended up hiring a driver instead; it was sort of expensive, but very good value compared to a taxi back home, since I had him for the whole day. I started with a visit to the temple and cave Goa Gajah. The cave mouth is intricately carved, but the interior is pretty unspectacular; however, there was a nice waterfall, and the jungle nearby had a trail going through it. After making a much too large donation at the entrance to the jungle section, I started off for a jungle temple way back in the woods. On the way I passed a real, wild cave, and walked a little way in; it seemed to go pretty far back, but I didn't have my headlamp, plus it looked like the kind of place that Rangda might live, so I went in a manly twenty feet, took a picture of a bat, and carried on. The temple itself was unspectacular, but I had an interesting adventure trying to find my way back. I went up some steps, as the man at the entrance had instructed me to do, but instead of reaching the parking lot, I found myself in a random village. At first, I assumed that I had just come out a little further down the main road, but pretty soon, after getting some bemused looks from Balinese people (whose help I refused on the assumption that they were trying to sell me transport), I realized I was lost. I wandered around a bit, trying to enjoy the lovely stone walls and terraced roofs while simultaneously finding my way out, until I found what looked like a trail, absolutely covered with trash. (Litter, as I've already said, is an appallingly huge problem in Bali.) I walked uncertainly down it, and found myself back at the main temple. After that adventure, I moved on to Semerapura, where I saw another temple. Yippee. From Semerapura it was a long and beautiful drive through mountainous country to the town of Tirtagangga, which is home to an impressive water palace. This was by far the best ruin I've seen on the entire trip; not only were there awesome stepping stones and giant carp, but there was a swimming pool. I spent a good hour splashing around, with vacationing Balinese, in the same stone pool rajas had used a thousand years ago. The Balinese kids thought I was hilarious, probably because of how ridiculously pale I looked, but they were friendly, and I met some nice vacationers who weren't trying to sell anything to me! The water was a perfect, refreshing temperature; it was by far the highlight of my time in Bali. After this, we proceeded to Muncan, where I discharged Made (my driver) and went to the guide's house. Ketut Uriada is a veteran guide; he is also a welcoming, kind, and humble man, and I thoroughly enjoyed my stay with him. Muncan was equally nice; it's virtually untouched by tourists, and I took a great evening walk, absorbing the relaxed rhythms of a Balinese village. Unfortunately, no tourism doesn't mean no poverty, and I was asked for money several times, but all in all it was pretty easy to relax. Even though the rain prevented me from climbing Gunung Agung, I got a peaceful night in a nice village, and Ketut helped me get a cheap bemo back to Denpasar the next day. That afternoon, I went to visit the Green School, a place that's been getting a lot of attention lately due to a TED talk given by the founder. As the name suggests, it's an alternative school that teaches students holistically, and emphasizes fun, hands-on learning about topical subjects; in other words, it's Five Acre, but with really awesome bamboo architecture, a vortex generator, and a farm, in Bali. I was officially there as a representative of Five Acre, and I talked to the admissions director about a sister-school type program; he seemed interested, but the school is in it's third year, so he and the rest of the administration are also monstrously stressed from trying to deal with all the problems that a new business, and especially a new school, experiences. However, I do think something could end up happening, and I also encourage you to check out the school and help them get off the ground. It really is a phenomenal project; I don't have the energy to describe it here, but the website gives a pretty good idea: http://www.greenschool.org/ Of course, if you really want to donate to a school, the Five Acre scholarship fund can always use some help too...Also at the Green School, I met an interesting French woman who is planning, with a partner, to start a similar school in Columbia. I gave her a ride into Denpasar and we chatted for quite a while, so I'm looking forward to seeing how that turns out. I stayed in Kuta again that night (not quite sure why...), and went out clubbing, but didn't have much fun, and ended up missing the bemo to Gunung Batur, the other volcano, the next day. Instead, I stayed in Sanur, where the highlight of my day was reading an article in a 1997 National Geographic about Queen Maude's Land, in Antarctica, and imagining myself in a place with absolutely no people. That brings us to this morning, when Nikko and Tankas came and picked me up for a tour of the island. Our first stop was a Barong-Rangda dance performance. This dance is particularly famous; it features a battle between the Barong, a mythical animal representing good, and the Rangda, a mythical witch representing evil. The initial dancing, with the Barong being pestered by a monkey, was quite well done; the plot following this, however, was rather campy, although well executed, and sung (sometimes atonally) in Balinese. A bizarre touch was the repeated use of bundles of leafy branches as weapons. However, the quality was quite high, and overall I enjoyed it more than the first performance I saw. After this, we drove up to Gunung Batur, a beautiful summit surrounded by a larger crater and crater lake. We had a buffet lunch on the rim, taking in the view and talking about Age of Mythology; when we descended into the crater, however, things got worse. I wanted to take some sort of walk (I had really wanted to summit, but the price for completely unnecessary guides was exorbitant), so Tankas drove us to a parking lot in the middle of town, where we were immediately mobbed by women from the "Seller's Association". I humored them by looking at some bracelets; however, Nikko abruptly decided to buy one I was looking at, paying way too much money for a shoddy, uncomfortable bracelet. The women continued to hassle us, while I explained to Nikko the concept of walking away. We didn't get far on our walk, either; an angry dog made us turn around and go back to the car. Tankas took us out of town, in continued search of a walk, but there didn't seem to be a good trail anywhere. Combine this with the litter, the flies that infested our car, and the severely crippled women we saw and gave money to who appeared to be living in the woods, and it was a pretty unpleasant experience. It was sad that such a beautiful place had so many problems, and I left with a feeling of discomfort and depression. This was only reinforced by the temples we visited next, crowded with tourists and surrounded by hawkers selling cheap shirts and penis-shaped bottle openers. A monkey forest was slightly more fun (monkeys are always fun!), but still depressing, especially because of the man holding a flying fox up by it's wings and charging tourists to take a photo of themselves doing the same. Our last stop was Pura Tanah Lot, formerly one of the most sacred temples on Bali, and now the most congested. To reach the temple overlook (the actual temple is on a small island), we had to walk past hundreds of identical, cheap-crap stalls, and through mobs of tourists; the moneychangers have invaded the temple, and I couldn't believe, when Nikko mentioned that evening prayers were taking place, that anyone could pray in such a place. The only thing that made me want to linger was a few local surfers, desperate for waves, trying out the hairy shorebreak by the temple. I will be posting an extended rant on tourism in my next entry; for now, I was relieved to go to a nice Japanese restaurant for a cheerful farewell dinner with Paul, Nikko, Paul's wife Ellie, and Tankas. Tomorrow the surf is supposed to be good; hopefully I'll be able to end this enlightening trip on a physical high note. LYA

Bali 2

My first full day was pretty uneventful. I almost caught a bemo (minibus) into Denpasar (capital of Bali), but decided against it, instead renting a boogie board. As soon as I hit the water, I wished I had gone for a surfboard instead, but the waves were kind of ok and I had good fun. I came back to the beach a bit later to rent a proper longboard, but at this point the already-mediocre swell had gone as flat as an anorexic fourth grader. Not that there weren't waves; they just essentially amounted to glorified shorebreak, and each ride would last maybe five exhilarating seconds before the board literally hit bottom. Compounding the general suckiness of the conditions was the trash floating absolutely everywhere, wrapping itself around my leash or bumping ominously into my foot like a synthetic jellyfish. So it wasn't exactly a banner day for surfing, but still some fun. That evening, I walked all the way to Seminyak trying to find an outdoor food court that turned out to be right next to my street corner, although this was more pleasant than frustrating. After dinner, I resolved to actually go in to a club, and so, after psyching myself up on Fela Kuti and Public Enemy, I walked on over to the Bounty Discotheque. And boy, did I have a great time! I spent approximately the first forty-five minutes sitting in a bar out front of the place, nursing a beer and splitting my attention between soccer highlights and a flashing light on the dance floor whilst composing, in my head, a cynical essay regarding modern dance music. When the fun got to be too much, I strolled inside, pausing briefly to watch a bunch of drunk Australians mangle "Bohemian Rhapsody" as two poor Balinese musicians tried desperately to save it. I then armed myself with a cocktail and proceeded upstairs to the main dancefloor. This was insane. There were hundreds of people, the majority of them Australians in their uniform (Guys: Bintang or VonZipper tank top, boardshorts, flip flops, backwards ballcap (optional). Girls: ridiculously short cutoffs, ridiculously small/tattered/altered in some way top, backwards ballcap, preferably stolen from cute guy (optional)). I don't need to tell you that half of the guys were shirtless, regardless of body type and composition; nor do I need to describe the general amount of writhing, grinding, and fist-pumping going on. Basically, it was a giant, clothed orgy, and I've never really known what to make of that kind of situation. I decided to hit the floor after I looked around my table and realized that I was sitting with two middle-aged, clumsily bobbing Japanese dudes, but I basically spent the night moving around, trying to divine if any girl was at all interested in me and, if so, what I should do about it. I had fun observing all the mini-dramas that unfolded, and ultimately it was a pretty good time, but it was still excruciatingly awkward, and the line of hookers and drug dealers outside the club as I left didn't help things. So this morning I moved over to the calmer town of Sanur, where the surf was supposed to be better. It wasn't; it was actually worse, with maybe a foot of swell waaay offshore. I then decided to go into Denpasar, for real this time. The bemo ride in was fun and cheap, but it turned out that everything was closed for a Hindu holiday. All I managed to do was get swindled out of 50,000 rupiah by a "tour guide" who walked me around the exterior of the Bali Museum and explained some rudimentary facts in poor English. So, another fun day. There were a few highlights, however; the homestay I found is amazingly cheap and beautifully atmospheric, and I had a nice evening swim on the pristine Sanur beach. Tomorrow, I plan to set off for the countryside; hopefully, a little bit of rural life will do me good. LYA

Bali 1

Hey, it's my 20th post! Sweet! I don't know what significance that might have (probably none), but it's still kind of cool. Maybe I'll buy cake.
Anyway, not much has happened since my arrival in Bali. I was met by Paul Edmundus, a friend of my grandmother's, who operates a tour company. He is a bubbly, constantly beaming guy, and we chatted avidly on our drive to Kuta, where I stayed the first night (and currently am located). Kuta is not so nice. It's hugely touristy, filled with drunken Australians in Bintang tank tops and hassling street vendors. I was pretty tired on arrival, due to my early morning flight, so I napped for a little while, then walked down to the monstrously crowded beach. I wanted to go swimming, but when I got to the edge of the water there was a line of washed-up trash, and I decided against it. Luckily, an atmospheric rain storm came in from the ocean, driving everyone off the beach, so I got to enjoy a natural shower and watch the lightning. Later on, I threw on a raincoat and forced myself to walk maybe half a kilometre to a big club; when I got there, however, I saw a bunch of drunken Ozzies and heard bad pop blasting and I couldn't deal at all. Maybe if I was with someone it would have been different, but on my own I'm like an anti- struggling alcoholic, forcing myself to go to bars and taking small steps towards being able to freely party. So that's all that's really happened so far...culturally speaking, it's been an interesting shift to leave Thailand. By now, I'm really used to the currency, and even speak a little Thai, but it's completely useless now, as I have to use rupiah and try and speak Indonesian (which I basically haven't bothered with). When I first arrived, I kept catching myself saying "sawadee krap" and "kob kun krap" to Balinese people, who generally looked at me with mild confusion and amusement. I've broken the habit now, but rupiah, which operates in increments of 1,000, is still throwing me off. I'll get it figured out soon, though...LYA

Pailand/Hua Hin/Byeland

This is *sniff* my final post before I leave Thailand. It's been five interesting weeks, where I've had to come to grips both with a foreign culture and with aspects of myself blah blah blah. Anyway, here's how I finished off my trip. The last blog entry found me having just arrived in Pai. That afternoon, I walked over to a temple, for a highly overrated view of the valley, then wandered the touristy but soothingly relaxed streets of Pai. While strolling about, I ran into Torge, a Norwegian guy I met on the bamboo rafting trip. We chatted for a bit, and I mentioned to him that I was hoping to run into Anna, another friend I had met on the meditation retreat. Just as I said this, Anna drove past on a motorbike. So that was all very convenient. That evening, after drinks with Torge and his girlfriend Renate, I headed up to an organic farm in the jungle, for a half-moon party. I'll forego describing the party in any detail, except to say that it was reeeeaaaally cool, and to mention the hilariously weird ride home I got from a gay Thai man (I honestly didn't know until after I got on the back of the bike) who tried to convince me to go to a room he "had for me". Luckily, he was short and pudgy and not very intimidating, so I was able to make him take me back to Pai, and not to the love bungalow. The next day I was stricken with dysentery, which layed me up for a while. Luckily, Thai prescription drugs are super cheap, so I was able to get over it pretty fast, but it still cost me two days of the trip. Upon recovery, I rented a motorbike and started exploring the Pai area. It was beautiful, the prettiest part of Thailand I've seen, and about the same temperature as a Victoria summer. The traffic isn't too bad either, so riding a bike was more exhilerating than terrifying. I often found myself humming the theme song to "The Darjeeling Limited" as I zipped through villages and past rice fields. At night, I got to check out the chill bar scene. I learned pretty quickly that the jungle party had been atypically wild; the bars are generally pretty relaxed, but it was still fun to chat with other travellers. Unfortunately, I didn't get to stay much longer; the Sawatdipongs invited me to visit them in the seaside resort town of Hua Hin, so I left the north a few days earlier than I had planned. Next time...
The trip to Hua Hin was also pretty relaxing. It's a beachside town, but the weather was such that I didn't do any swimming. Instead, I got to rest quite a bit, and also to reflect on my experiences. The sudden lack of responsibility also helped amplify the homesickness I'd been feeling in Pai. One extremely important thing I've learnt about myself is that I need four seasons. The thought of winter at home, of sledding up in the mountains or walking around Victoria or Seattle at night, makes me desperate to get back to high latitudes. But I was able to surpress that, and instead enjoy my last few days in Thailand. Being on holiday with an actual Thai family was a very different experience from the rest of my trip. Rather than culture-spotting and going to bars, I spent a lot of time with the extended family, chatting in Thai and eating large meals both in Jessada's apartment and in assorted local restaurants. It was, in short, essentially the same as an American family vacation, and it was good for me to remember that Thailand isn't all culture and sights and tourist-industry workers. As usual, everyone was very hospitable, and although the language barrier curtailed much conversation we still managed to have a good time. On our way back from Hua Hin, I bought some new pants, to replace my fertilizer- and paint-smeared old ones, and I've purged some of the excess stuff from my backpack, so I'm ready for Bali! I'll miss Thailand, though - the cheap, delicious food, the endearing squalor, the heat, the droves of interesting people, both foreign and Thai, and all the opportunities to explore. Back again someday! LYA

Chiang Mai 4

I started Week 3 out with a mini volunteer project. David and Porn came up to the sanctuary, and we went out into the jungle with some hilltribesmen to cut bamboo. David and Nayok, the tribal leader, plan to get some of the locals building bamboo furniture, and we were going to get the ball rolling by cutting the bamboo for the first piece they would make. We trekked up a steep hillside and cut some decent-sized bamboo logs, then, after a lunch break, hauled them back down the mountain to our truck. On the first trip down, David and I had carried a log together, but on the second we decided to speed things up (and not look like wimps compared to the locals) by each taking a log. This was surprisingly easy - bamboo is very light, and the only real challenge was maneuvering the 5-meter logs through some of the more dense clusters of trees - so we managed to get the logs down in about ten minutes. As I walked out of the jungle, a group of backpack-laden tourists came trundling up a path on the other side of the truck. At this point, I was carrying the log balanced on one shoulder, with a machete in my free hand. They did a double-take; I nodded at them in a knowing manner, and kept sauntering along. One woman was looking bemusedly back at me until they disappeared around a corner. So that was entertaining. Apart from that, the week wasn't too eventful, just more tree maintenance, English teaching, and swimming with elephants (as I said, nothing special). One interesting thing that did happen was a housewarming party in Maetaman village, which Joe invited me to. I was a bit lost at the party, speaking hardly any Thai, but the locals seemed very pleased that a farang had made an appearance (at one point, a man actually kissed me on the cheek), so I just smiled and nodded at pretty much whatever they said. I also got to watch some fireworks that they set off in a typically suicidal Thai manner. The other somewhat interesting event was my farewell party, on Thursday night. Joe and I went out and bought a dozen large bottles of beer, which, when I brought them out after class, disappeared in about ten minutes. The mahouts borrowed my guitar and started belting Thai pop songs at the top of their lungs, causing O-Ishi, Joe's son, to dance around and look cute. Meanwhile, Joe, Prida (one of the non-mahout employees) and I got a hundred-baht poker game going. I was doing alright until two men from the village showed up with a bottle of Thai whiskey. The game switched from poker to a Thai version of rummy, and I managed to lose 160 baht, which would have been a lot more upsetting if 160 baht didn't work out to be about $5. As it was, the money was well worth the experience of gambling and drinking with Thai villagers, although I do wonder if they might have been cheating me. The next day, I said goodbye to the elephant home. I had a really fun time there, and it was a truly unique experience. If any of you are ever in Thailand, I would highly recommend visiting Thai Elephant Home and blah dee blah blah. Sorry if this blog entry is unusually prosaic, but I'm kind of tired and hungry...anyway, I hung out in Chiang Mai for a few days, said goodbye to David and Porn, and, this morning, caught a bus up to the small town of Pai. Pai is a pretty major tourist place, but it's in a pleasant mountain valley (there were actually pine trees on the way up!) and I'm hoping to meet a few people. I've got the next week to explore, so we'll see what happens. LYA

Chiang Mai 3

Before I get all spiritual, I would like to take a moment to a) curse this computer keyboard that pulls up QuickLinks every time I try to write an apostrophe, and b) recognize the restaurant I went to with David and Porn on the night of the 15th, because it was really something. It was a large, open-sided warehouse, like the Costco of restaurants, with metal tables and plastic chairs, and I swear there were maybe 300 people having dinner while we were there. Dinner was a buffet of raw foods that you cooked yourself, on a burner at your table; entertainment consisted of a mixture of John Denver covers and bizarre, unintelligible Thai comedy that invlolved a lot of slapsticks and timed laughter. (David told me that the average Thai joke involves a ladyboy, a dwarf, and a person with Downs...)
The next morning, I took a stroll down to Wat Phra Sing, which is very wat-y, as wats go; enjoyed an avocado (!) smoothie (which was delicious); and was taken, by Porn, to the MonkChat headquarters, to begin the meditation retreat. It started with a monk giving a rambling slideshow introduction to Buddhism; this included a short French animated film about ants trying to crack a walnut with a bocce ball, cheesy digital religious illustrations, and much sermonizing about poverty and terrorism. I was obviously relieved to be done with that and take a song-taew (truck taxi) to the clean, modest Buddhist university campus outside Chiang Mai, where the retreat was to take place. Once there, we (eighteen Westerners) changed into white clothes, which made us look terribly cult-ish, and, after a bit of socializing, began our period of silence with dinner. We were asked to contemplate our food before eating, and to chant a Pali prayer about not being gluttonous. Everybody ate very slowly; it almost seemed like a contest to see who could be the most mindful. (A French-Canadian fellow won by a long shot; he was still chewing thoughtfully as the rest of us left.) After silently wandering the grounds for a bit, we began assorted meditation and chanting exercises, and things just got amazingly spiritual and transcendent. During our first sitting meditation, I was just concentrating so intently on my breathing that I fell into this sort of trance-like state, just this feeling of absolute serenity and emptiness. It was as if I, that is, me, the entity, had ceased to exist; I was just in formless communion with all of creation. After an eternity, or a second, of floating in this state, I began to have a vision, of a mighty, indescribable boddhisattva, who seemed to beckon me, like a holy guide - and then I chundered EVERYWHERE! Yeah, we had been on the lash the night before...No, I kid, that joke is getting old. (If you do not get the reference, look up "Gap Yah" on Youtube. Do it.) Seriously, it was a struggle to keep my mind clear, and I was pretty pleased to just reach a state of relaxation. But I came out of it feeling very serene, and I do think I will continue meditating, if only to feel a little more relaxed. I also met some nice people, which is always pleasant.
After the retreat, I headed back up to the elephant home to resume teaching and working. Nothing too eventful happened there, apart from eating flying squirrel soup for breakfast one morning. It is currently the Thai new year, Loi or Lorng Kratong (not sure which), and last night the village set off hundreds of paper fire balloons,which was quite beautiful. I am in Chiang Mai tonight; David and Porn took me to a parade, which consisted of lots of Thais in traditional dress walking. The only truly entertaining part was an older, asiatic fellow, who strolled into the parade and commenced to take pictures of himself with the walkers, whom he would then show the pictures to. After a bit of this entertainment, D&P left and I strolled alone down to the river, to watch the traditional flower boats float by. This was not terribly exciting either, but I enjoyed seeing all the people walking around, and hearing the music. The couples and groups of friends walking around made me feel a bit lonely however :(
One final note: in search of a fruit shake, I wandered into a sort of square where many merchants had set up. This would not have been notable, except for the musical entertainment on display, several young Thai girls who presented some sort of out-of-tune musical drama. This, and the Thai classical music (read: gongs, drums, and oboes playing one chord forever) incessantly playing throughout the horrendously long parade (how many people carrying lanterns do we seriously need to see?) made me pity the discerning Thai music fan, whoever he is. Anyway, more excitement to come...LYA

Chiang Mai 2

It's me again. This post is going to be a bit long, since I haven't written in so long. I'm not even going to apologize for the lack of posts this time; anyone who expected an elephant home in the mountains of northern Thailand to have internet deserves to be disillusioned. Said elephant home is a very interesting place. It's owned by the leader (I hesitate to say "chief") of the district, which is populated mostly by Karen people. The manager and mastermind is a guy named Joe, an extremely friendly guy with an excellent ponytail. Joe has a one-and-a-half-year old son, nicknamed O-ishi, who is as adorable as you might expect. He loves my guitar, and has tried to play it several times, despite the fact that it's larger than him. The staff of the home is a collection of locals who work as mahouts for the ten elephants living there. They are friendly, but for the most part speak very limited English. One of my principal roles at the home is teaching English to some of the younger mahouts. This is as frustrating but rewarding as one might expect; I'm struggling with never having taught before, but ultimately i think I'm doing an alright job of getting some language skills across to them. The reforestation work is less rewarding. So far, it's essentially consisted of me clearing the ground around the bases of saplings, in preparation for fertilizer. This itself isn't so bad; what's bad is the heat, which, although mild by local standards, is still pretty overwhelming for a polar bear like me. My effective working time is limited to the morning and late afternoon, and I spend a lot of time laying around in my room, too hot to really accomplish anything. I've been swimming in the river a few times, but the combination of the heat and the decidedly un-spectacular setting (hills and trees, whoopee!) had begun to wear on me by the time my Chiang Mai leave rolled around. Compounding the malaise is the Thai version of planning, also known as "not planning", or at least "not telling anyone about plans". I don't really have a clear idea of what I'm supposed to be accomplishing on the reforestation project. Joe has mentioned an irrigation line, but he hasn't given me any sort of timeline, so I essentially have to try and set my own schedule. This is also pretty wearing, as I generally feel like I'm not doing a) enough work and b) anything right. Hopefully, I'll be able to get some clarity from David over dinner this evening...
A brief word on elephants: they're not horses. This might seem pretty obvious, but I didn't realize how important that distinction was until I went elephant riding. Riding a good horse is like driving a nice car, except with feelings. It's pretty comfortable, you have a high degree of control, the speed can be thrilling, and you feel like you're working with the horse. Riding an elephant, on the other hand, is in many ways more like being in an uncomfortable, almost broken-down bus. You don't really have any control, your ass hurts, snails are passing you on the trail, and after a while you start to wonder "are we there yet?" Of course, there's also the really cool fact that you're mounted on a huge, ancient creature, who would have no problem dispatching you if it felt like it. One of the unique elements of the Elephant Home is the fact that customers ride bareback, straddling the elephant's neck; on most elephant tours, the customer sits on a metal seat mounted on the elephant's back. The former method is much better for the elephant, and much more fun; it's especially wild going down steep hills, or crossing a river. Swimming around with the elephants is also encouraged, and that truly is an awesome experience. The elephants dip under the water, disappearing almost completely, then rear back up, glistening, and lumber through the water towards you like primal sea monsters. The mahouts and I love climbing around on the elephants while they're in the water; Supon, Joe's "lieutenant", as i think of him, does backflips off elephants' heads. I've only been on one ride; I may take another before I go, but I'm still not sure if it's worth the tedium. I prefer the time I've spent down at the elephant enclosure, petting elephants and trying to keep them from eating my arm (seriously, they must think I'm bamboo, the amount they try to drag my hand into their mouths). As for smaller animals, I have been adopted by a dog named Bacon, who follows me almost everywhere. He had some sort of disease that causes him to twitch incessantly and stink; his loyalty is heartbreaking, as is his "happy special kid" demeanor. All in all, the home is an interesting place. However, I was pretty stoked to get out of the valley and head back to Chiang Mai for the weekend. I arrived last night, in time for my second Thai lesson (I've already forgotten it all). Following the lesson, I went over to the Sunday night market, a block away from my hostel, and wandered for a while. Now, I should explain my relationship with markets. I generally walk through them as fast as possible, afraid to stop for fear that a vendor might try to sell something to me. Even if I see something that I like, I generally keep moving; occasionally, I do a series of tortuous double-takes, trying to take a closer look at an item, but not wanting to betray any interest that might cause the merchant to start talking with me. The only thing I habitually buy is snacks; these I buy constantly, in such volume that I would probably have put on several pounds by now, if I weren't always walking so fast to avoid buying anything. I haven't always been like this; when I went to China, at age 12, I was a brilliant market shopper. Of course, in China I had my grandmother and her bottomless wallet to cover any purchases I made, but it's been disheartening to find myself bereft of my former confidence as a consumer. So last night I decided to force myself to buy something, preferably some clothes. Eventually, I settled on some fisherman pants; I walked past the stall three or four times, then, finally, approached, looked through the rack, and bought a pair. I was pathetically proud of myself. Today, I almost wore them out sightseeing, but after walking about a block away from the hostel I realized that I looked sort of like i was wearing a sari, and walked back to my room to change into shorts. Incidentally, I didn't manage to see much today; I had about four false starts, constantly having to come back to my room to change wardrobe, get directions, etc. I'm kind of a pathetic person. Whatever; all I was looking to see were temples, and I'll be seeing plenty of those tomorrow, when, for my cultural activity, I spend the night as a monk. Wow, this is gonna be weird...LYA

Chiang Mai 1

Well, I didn't end up going out too late. I think a lot of people fled the island as soon as the boats started running again, so the town was pretty dead. Plus, my already shaky self-confidence wasn't at all boosted by my waiter at dinner that evening, who described me, in the "Customer" listing on the bill, as "A little boy". I don't know if he was being blatantly disrespectful or trying to make a joke, but it wasn't a very pleasant thing to see either way. So I went to bed rather early, ready to catch my boat at 10 the next morning. I got up early, got packed, and even had the laundry service give me my laundry damp, in order that I might make the boat. Unfortunately, I suddenly found out that the morning boat wasn't running. I got pretty worried about this, thinking I would miss my train, until I looked at the tickets for the first time and realized that the man at the ticket office had booked the wrong train, too. Luckily, the timing worked out so that I would still be able to get to Bangkok, although I would have to get a different train to Chiang Mai. I should also mention that, for whatever reason, I was starting to feel rather ill. Ultimately, I ended up being in transit for something like 32 hours. There were a few pleasant moments: I loved the sleeper berth from Chumpon to Bangkok, and I managed to cure my seasickness on the boat ride, by pressing continuously on my wrist. But the 12-hour ride to Chiang Mai, in a car that essentially amounted to a bunch of really uncomfortable airline seats, and attended by a stewardess who scoffed incredulously when I asked for water, was less pleasant. I'm pretty sure I had a fever at this point, I felt so cold that I had to spend the entire ride wearing a sweater and toque. Also, I finished my book within the first half-hour, my iPod ran out of juice not long after, and trying to fall asleep on one of these trains makes an airplane seem like a nice hotel, so I got to spend most of the ride either dozing fitfully or surveying the undeniably beautiful but somewhat repetitive central Thai landscape. Heavy flooding and monkeys were the main points of interest. By the time I got to Chiang Mai, I was exhausted, and not too kindly disposed toward Thailand. Trying to deal with Thai payphones, which I for some reason can't figure out, put me in an even worse mood. Finally, I managed to get to the guesthouse that David, my volunteer coordinator, told me to stay at the first night, and things suddenly started to go much better. David was waiting there; he paid the taxi, arranged my room, and took me out for dinner. We made some very lively conversation (which I had been more or less deprived of for the last few days), and I got a good night's sleep. Today, David picked me up and took me to the ProWorld offices, i.e. his house. I met his wife/assistant, who's name is (I am not making this up) Supaporn, or Porn for short. Thankfully, it doesn't sound as bad as it looks. They are both wonderful people; I went through orientation at their house, then had a nice lunch and was taken on a city tour by Porn. I also had my first Thai lesson; Geaw, my teacher, says I am doing very well. So things are looking up! I head to my homestay tomorrow; hopefully, I'm in for a great three weeks. LYA

Koh Tao 2

So I spent a few days laying around in the middle of horrendous monsoon rains, went out to a few bars and met some people, and finally went to finish my certification this morning. The water wasn't nearly as choppy as last time, so I was pretty hopeful as I headed down. Alas, I managed to really top myself this time, by not only barely managing to equalize, but by chundering EVERYWHARE at about 4 meters. As the other divers swam calmly but, i could tell, disgustedly away from the giant floating cloud of Thai food and happy fish, I kept on wretching and clutching at my ears, all the way back to the boat. My stomach still hurts, I can't hear properly, I don't have my certification, and I think I may be able to rule out diving as a hobby. Not much else memorable has happened, but I'm hoping to explore the island a little today, now that the sun's out. The boats have started running again, and I'm headed off the island and up to Chiang Mai tomorrow for my volunteer placement! More news soon. LYA

Koh Tao 1

Sorry about the drought in entries. I'll start off by telling you about my day in Bangkok. I started off by getting a train/boat ticket for Koh Tao at the enormous Hualumphong Train Station. After that, Somchai dropped me off at Wat Phra Kaew and the Grand Palace, a huge temple/palaace complex near the Chao Praya river. In a nutshell, I wandered around that temple, walked around on the street, got some snacks, walked some more, got lunch, went back to Hualumphong to get some more tickets that I had forgotten about the first time, went to Wat Pho temple (home of a giant gold reclining Buddha and some hilarious spirit guaardian statues that look exactly like Biggie Smalls), got more food, crossed the river to Wat Arun (my favorite temple, essentially just a really big, ornate stone tower), ate a small meal, took a tuk-tuk (3-wheel motorcycle cab) to Khao San Road (the backpacker center), was disgusted by the excess, returned to near Wat Pho, caught a river taxi and skytrain to a shopping center where I met Somchai for dinner, was driven to Hualumphong to catch my train, and slept on the floor until my train actually was ready to leave. Phew! Bangkok was beautiful/squalid and smelly, and I took tons of great pictures that describe it much more thoroughly than I care to. After an overnight train ride and a bumpy catameran ride, I arrived at Koh Tao, a tiny, scuba-oriented island in the Gulf of Thailand. I'm staying at Big Blue dive resort, and am currently finishing off my Open Water certification. I've got an awesome, if really funky, bungalow by the beach, and am having a pretty great time. My instructor's name is Beccy; I'm in a group with a British couple, another British fellow, and a Chilean girl. I've met some great people outside of the group: highlights include two Portuguese women; another divemaster named, I believe, Med, who has a regular gig at a bar and is letting me play some songs; and an Ozzie dad-and-lad duo met last night in the bar. These last deserve some special mention: last night, the father, Martin, came and introduced himself to Ben, another Ozzie, and me, and started chatting with Ben, leaving me to talk with his son, Peter. He asked me what nationality I was; when I told him I was American, he shook his head disappointedly, and began to pontificate on how Americans talk to much. He went on to rail against the limitation of alcohol sales during the Thai local election (bear in mind that this kid is nine), stereotype the Thai and British, and, when we told him that talking like this when he was older would probably get his ass kicked, explained how nobody would be able to kick his ass because he would be taller than his dad. I just had to laugh. The diving's going pretty well, although today, probably due to some funky Pad Thai, I was violently ill upon surfacing from both of our dives. Ah well...hopefully everything will be better tomorrow. Love you all.

Thailand 1

I got a nice early start this morning, but apparently I wasn't early enough to catch the bullet train to the airport, and when I finally arrived, an hour before my flight, I got stuck at the back of an enormous line fatalistically imagining how, when I missed my flight, I would have a breakdown and return home in defeat and not go to college and work on Nash's for the rest of my life and take over Scott's (the main field boss) job and be bitter and never find love. Luckily, I made it on, and got to Bangkok! I availed myself of the SMUS alumni network, by getting Tony Goodman to arrange my staying with Jessada Sawatdipong, father of Jeti Sawatdipong '09. His driver, an amazingly jolly fellow named Somchai, met me at the airport, and must have been waiting for hours while I crawled through the slowest passport control line in the world, behind two cute French/Israeli chicks who I tried to get up the nerve to talk to but then started thinking about DRMRSVANDERTRAMP verbs and ended up staring resolutely at a screen showing the same tourism video on a loop for the entire eternal wait. Somchai took me to the Sawatdipong's house, where Jessada's stepmother made me a nice chicken snack, and then I met Jessada in one of Bangkok's business district for dinner with him and a nice Austrian expat lawyer named Stefan. They gave me lots of good info, and tomorrow should be a fun day of exploring Bangkok! Love you all.

Japan 2

So I wrote a very long, very thoughtful entry, and the f***ing computer deleted it. I really don't want to rewrite it, so basically here's how my day went down: woke up at 5, breakfast at 7, nap, false starts going to Shibuya, lunch, met Japanese dude named Ken who gave me helpful advice, went to Shibuya, saw Meiji shrine, was impressed, saw shops, was impressed, felt conspicuously Western, wore socks and sandals, bought umbrella, got wrong drink at world's largest Starbucks, wandered confusedly in womenswear mall, was conspicuously Western, saw Tower Records and was happy, got slightly lost, was overwhelmed, went to Shinjuku, looked for Tokyo Metropolitan Gov't building, didn't find it, was conspicuously Western, had squid and hot sake for dinner, found building, found Tokyo Hobo Repository, saw pleasant view, took Yurikamome Line and saw Tokyo Bay, was impressed at scale of city, returned to hostel, did not once mess up in transit, talked with guests, wrote blog entry, was peeved, took pictures, went to bed. Nicely warmed up, feel a little more ready for Bangkok tomorrow. Love you all, especially, right now, Jen Fraser. LYB more, dollface, LYB more.

Maui 7/Japan 1

Sorry about the preachy/angsty last post. The rest of the time in Maui was pretty chill-my surfing improved noticeably, and I got a lot of planning that needed to be done done. I also got to go surfing with Bruce Luxton again, and had a nice dinner with him and Pom, his wife. I left on the 23rd, and took a really weird red-eye, featuring a half-hour technical stop in the Marshall Islands and a three-hour layover in Guam, to Tokyo. I did manage to get quite a bit of sleep, as I had an entire row to myself from Honolulu to Guam. But apparently I wasn't nearly well-rested enough to deal with Tokyo. I started out by incurring the pity of a customs agent at the sight of my huge bag, and proceeded to take the wrong {not too wrong, thankfully}train; wander for a solid 20 minutes in search of my hostel, only finding it with the help of a receptionist at some sort of business college; struggle with the concept of exiting a subway station until a friendly clerk helped me out; wander around Asakusa for an hour before being able to muster the guts to go to a restaurant; take the wrong train back to Asakusabashi, bringing the total I spent on subway tickets today into the triple digits; and get lost trying to find my hostel again. You have every right to fear for me. Luckily, Tokyo's pretty easy, apart from the language barrier. I saw some pleasant temples and shopping areas in my afternoon excursion to the historic Edo district of Asakusa. I forgot my camera, but luckily for you every other tourist in the world brought theirs, so if you're curious about historic Asakusa you can definitely find some nice photos. The train ride was also pleasant; I got a good chance to observe all the little, superficial differences in detail, apart from the obvious language barrier, that distinguish Japan from the US, like the vaguely exotic trees, the stubbornly Asian dragonscale roofs, occasional rice paddies - all to the frenetic music of a Japanese experimental group called Boredoms, that pretty well sum up the weird splicing of East and West that now defines Japan. Anyhow, I should be able to get along a little better now that I'm settled in and the first stages of culture shock are wearing off. Love you all.

Birthday

So what did I do for my birthday?

The eighteenth birthday is supposed to signify an entrance into adulthood. To celebrate this, my dad bought me dinner at a ridiculously gourmet/expensive restaurant, which was as delicious as the ridiculous bill would suggest. Afterwords, I went out in quest of a smoke shop. I wanted to buy two things: a cigar and a Playboy. These two previously forbidden items would symbolize my transition into life as a privileged adult.
     Lahaina's downtown is a pretty bleak place, full of jewelry stores and discount, time-share-affiliated "tourist information centers". I was also hoping to find some people to celebrate with, but the town is geared pretty much exclusively towards middle-class couples and families, so there wasn't any sort of nightlife accessible to me. But I managed to find a nice cigar shop, and, although I didn't manage to find a Playboy, Dad bought me a six-pack to further celebrate my "coming of age". After wandering around for a while, I took my beer and cigar down to the beach. I lit up the cigar, and tried to open a beer with the lighter, but I'm not very good at that sort of thing, so I went off to try and find some alternate means of opening it. The edge of a bench, set back a ways from the beach, didn't work, but the pannier rack of a bike chained to the bench seemed like it would do well, so I started to pry the cap off against it. Suddenly, a Hawaiian guy, rummaging around in the shadows, told me to "stop fucking with his bike."
    Earlier, I'd scoffed silently at the tourists walking through downtown. They struck me as detached, materialistic voyeurs, concerned only with fulfilling their own perceptions of what a tropical vacation should be. I've been this way for most of my life, picturing myself as somehow superior to others, a more conscious, less offensive traveler. The owner of the bike shocked me out of my hypocrisy. I was appalled to recognize my own thoughtlessness and self-absorption, my own disregard for others in my quest for a "great" vacation. I apologized profusely to the man, and left my beer as a way of trying to make amends. When I looked back at the bench, after having smoked most of my cigar, the man had left, but the beer was still sitting there, unopened. Next to it was an empty pack of cigarettes.

I'm sorry if this is rambling and preachy, but the cigar left me pretty light-headed - I don't do well with nicotine. I love you all, and miss you more than I can say.

Maui 5

Before I write anything about my birthday or recent adventures, I'd like to devote a little space to remembering Bob Boardman, Port Angeles musician and all-around great guy, who was gored to death by a mountain goat on Saturday. Bob had been a family friend for my entire life, and was very supportive of me when I first began performing solo, backing me on guitar in several performances. His loss is a tragedy for the community, and he will be dearly missed.

Now that the sad stuff's over with...it's my birthday! In most of the world I'm legally an adult! I have to say, my birthday morning wasn't that great. Since my last post, I hiked from the summit of Haleakala to the ocean (about 18 miles and 10,000 feet of elevation) over the course of 22 hours (including an overnight at an awesome cabin in the middle of an amazing moonscape crater), in new boots that, it turns out, don't fit. By the time I got to the bottom, my legs were phenomenally sore; when I woke up this morning, after a fitful night's sleep, it felt like I had gone to bed 17 and woke up 75. I could barely walk, and I'm still recovering from the hike, which was pretty spectacular in all other respects. I'll have photos of Hawai'i up soon on Facebook, so y'all can check out the amazing crater and cloud forest and all. In other news, my dad abruptly decided that he wanted a vacation and asked if he could come stay with me for the next week. He's out here now, bearing a rental car and the money to stay in hotel rooms, instead of hostels and campgrounds, which is pretty rad. He's really happy to be here, and, considering how much my plans have been messed up by the bike accident, it's nice having him here, if only to expedite my getting around. We stayed out at the Seven Sacred pools, drove back through Hana this morning, and are in Lahaina, where hopefully I can start surfing again tomorrow. Don't have any plans for tonight yet, but hopefully I'll be able to find some sort of debauchery.

Love you all, and thanks for the birthday wishes - getting all the Facebook happy birthdays really made my day!

Maui 4

I've fully recovered from my bike stupor, and am actually starting to do things! Steve Baker, an old acquaintance of my dad's from the Marines, came to Lahaina and picked me up this morning. I didn't really have a travel plan in place, but he took me to get some supplies, and then drove me up Haleakala. I was hoping to camp up there; unfortunately, I was under-equipped, but I got some good info. The crater of Haleakala is amazing, like an iron-stained piece of Iceland that emerged from the ground at 10,000 feet. My camera was dead, but I plan to return, so expect photos soon. Hitchhiking to Hana tomorrow - should be interesting.

Love you all.

Maui 3/Musings

Sorry about the rant earlier; I was clearly not in a good mood, and I hope it didn't cause undue emotional duress to either of this blog's followers (sorry, Mom). I ended up pretty much laying around all day, but I'm starting to get things worked out (!) and hopefully will be hitting the east side tomorrow! Some positives, in case I've been coming across as a whiny little weasel: The dudes in the hostel dorm are really nice. A few Hawaiians, mainlanders, a Swede, and two Belgians, all of whom are super chill. I just had a cheap and amazing dinner at Maui Tacos, which also has a four-dollar breakfast. The view of the mountains is beautiful, when you can find it. There's a resident cat lurking around and mewing adorably. I just discovered that the big tree right outside the hostel is the roosting place for a flock of extremely noisy birds. The public transit system is very cheap. I'm in friggin' Hawai'i. Everything is going to be awesome!

Now for some musings. Why does the tourist industry make such heavy use of "unnecessary" quotation marks? They're "everywhere" - in "brochures", "on" signs, in notices "urging" tourists not to "throw away" their cigarette "butts". It gets "really" "aggravating" after "a" while, especially "for" an "English nerd" like "me". On a meta-note, I'm also starting to become aware of the addictive nature of blogging. The fact that I can post random thoughts like that for the general public to read is a terrible and wonderful thing, kind of like giant waves, or griffins. It's probably a good thing that I'm only going to have patchy access to the internet for the next nine months...

Love you all.

PS: Here's the link to "This Time Tomorrow", the song I mentioned a few posts ago.

Maui 2

...and I fell off my bike. Fuck. Got some nasty abrasions on my leg, making me completely unable to go in salt water. So now I'm in Lahaina, unable to do the one thing I came for (surfing), and stuck in a humid mixed dorm in a tourist trap town with the next week already paid for, thereby leaving me trapped unless I want to flush a few hundred dollars down the drain. %#@&%^*!!!!!!!!111
Sorry you had to be privy to my venting. I'm sure everything will work out fine-I called the surf school today, and they're being pretty awesome. Now if only I could find a way to still go there without having to be in Lahaina...

Maui 1

Got into Maui last night. I'm staying in a little hostel in Lahaina, called Lahaina's Last Resort. Lahaina is a massive tourist trap, but hopefully I'll be able to find some nicer areas (yay for good public transport). Went surfing this morning, had fun, got a rash on my knees. Not too much exciting is going on, just relaxing and trying to get familiar with the area. Hopefully some fun escapades will start happening soon...

...Continued

Made it to Honolulu! I'm staying w. Bruce and Pom Luxton (for those of you who know Steve, his uncle and aunt) and will be flying to Maui tomorrow. Still absorbing the fact that I'm literally not going to be back in the US, much less Sequim, in the next nine months...anyway, a few quick things. First of all, who knows how to upload photos on  a computer other than one's own? (Zac or Oli, I'm looking at you here. I could probably figure it out myself, but this way is easier.) Second, I'm considering changing the uber-cheese blog name that I instantly regretted as soon as I hit post to "Vicarious Vacations with Will", or something to that effect. Opinions? Finally, I posted the wrong Kinks song today, although it's still pretty fitting. The computer I'm using is ancient, so I can't post the video, but I'll put it up tomorrow or sometime soon. Just listen to "This Time Tomorrow" and think of me. Love you all.

No. 1

I'm taking off today! Last night was my last night in Sequim for the next nine months. In the time I'm gone, babies will be conceived and born, which is a crazy thought. Will my blog be competing with pregnancy blogs (assuming such things exist) for it's readership? It could. Oddly fitting, considering that this trip may be something of a rebirth itself. Not to sound like a complete cheesemeister, but my experience of the world is pretty limited. How will I change? How will I grow? Let's find out, together. For reference, here's a picture of me now:

 

I'll try to update the blog as frequently as possible. Enjoy living vicariously through Will! To close, here's a song I think fits the departure nicely, and has some sweet footage too:

Peaccccccccce!