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December 3, 2016

Four Months on The Road: Thailand & Vietnam

December 3, 2016

Well, here I am posting another video, which means that somehow, another month on our trip has flown by.  This month, we slowed it down and split our time between two countries: Thailand and Vietnam. We left the north of Thailand and headed for the warm beaches of Koh Mak for a couple of weeks.  After we had our fill of sun and sand (just kidding, that will never happen…) we headed to North Vietnam for adventures in the crazy city of Hanoi and treks through the rice fields in the Sapa Valley.

Our fourth month was filled with a lot of slow travel; taking long overnight buses between destinations, and really settling into every place we went. Each day of this month, we woke up and reminded ourselves just how lucky we are to be doing this.

So, cheers to month four, it has been the best one yet.

 

 

3 Comments · Labels: Thailand, Travel

November 28, 2016

Thailand’s Last Unspoiled Island?

November 28, 2016

Something ironic that Al and I realized pretty quickly on our trip around the world, is that travel doesn’t really feel so foreign anymore. 

My first solo trip abroad was to Goodwood, South Africa back in the summer of 2008. I spent about a year planning and saving for that trip. I would take frequent visits to the Student Travel Agency (STA) offices on Kirkwood, the main strip on my college campus. I would sit with the STA Travel Agent pouring through brochures, looking up flights and hostels, and discussing prices and what my best options were.

Once I booked my flight with the agent, the reservation had to be routed through the airlines before I could finally receive the paper tickets in my hand 3 weeks later. I kept the tickets on me at all times, pulling them out and staring at them every so often, just to make sure they were real.

I remember laying in the grass of the front yard of my college apartment, next to my best friend who was scheduled to meet me 5 weeks after my arrival. We sat on a blanket and fanned through the generic pictures in our Nomad Africa pamphlets, reading and re-reading through every step of our upcoming trip with excitement, memorizing every word, and imagining what our adventure would be like.

When I arrived in South Africa months later, I was completely out of my element. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going. I navigated unfamiliar streets and public transportation holding a confusing map, and was forced into constant interaction with other people (travelers and locals alike) for survival. Over coffee and drinks we would share our most exciting stories, our favorite places to eat, the towns we loved, and all the areas we recommended the others avoid. I kept in touch with family about once every two weeks, whenever I could get to an internet cafe.  I tried to take pictures on my digital camera when I remembered to, but I usually forgot. After two months of traveling through South Africa, Namibia, Zambia, Zimbabwe and Botswana, I had about 200 pictures to show for it, but I didn’t care.

 

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With my South African host parents in 2008. One of the few pictures taken.

 

As the months went by, the pamphlets I had memorized back at home came to life in a way I never could have dreamed of before seeing the destinations with my own eyes. I spent the trip completely immersed in a new life and culture, truly seeing and discovering each place for the first time. I had no idea if the places I was going to were on or off the beaten path; I didn’t even know there was a beaten path. Everything was brand new to me. I was just figuring it out as I went along.

Now it’s 2016, and nothing about our experience planning and living out this trip has been the same as that first solo trip. We planned our entire road trip online through Airbnb. All of our recommendations came through reviews left on popular websites of other travelers. We have seen most of our destinations in some capacity before arriving, through travel sites or the lens of popular Instagrammers.

We are constantly being bumped into by people taking selfies. Most times when locals get frustrated with my attempts to communicate in their language, they pull out a translation app and make me type in what I’m trying to say. I keep in touch with my family daily, because we have WiFi everywhere we stay. We rarely need to figure out a map, because we had every place on our road-trip pre-programmed into our GPS, or we are able to easily navigate streets using Google Maps. I really don’t have to talk to other travelers unless I want to, because I have my best friend with me at all times.

There are very few places left to go that haven’t already been walked across by another backpacker filled with ideas of travel and adventure.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not making the argument that this is a bad thing, or that it is a reason not to go places. 

I love technology and mentally thank it for helping me out in one way or another on a daily basis. It has allowed our trip to take us to places we never could’ve imagined before. I can read book after book on my Kindle instead of lugging around heavy hardback versions. Al and I can easily find delicious vegetarian food all over the world thanks to websites like happy cow. Because I have the ability to connect regularly with all the people I love, I have been able to go four months without feeling an inkling of homesickness.

There are so many positives, but the reality is that travel is becoming so much easier and accessible than ever before. What Al and I learned right away on this trip is that we will need to be creative in order to carve out a genuinely unique experience each place we go. This may mean that we often have to bypass some of the most popular destinations we were intending to visit.

We did this trip to get out of our comfort zone, see a new way of life, and have unforgettable experiences that we will share together for a lifetime. In order to do this, we will have to work a little bit harder than we thought. Simply being in a foreign country doesn’t guarantee adventure and discovery. Nowhere has this proven to be more accurate than in Thailand.

It is not a secret that Thailand is one of the most (if not the most) heavily visited country on the Southeast Asia backpacking trail.  When you arrive, you can see right away how much the country has been negatively affected by tourism, to the point that you easily forget you’re even in Thailand. Initially, we thought we would head to the southern islands after our northern motorbiking adventure. After talking to other people and doing some research, we knew that the popularity of these islands would prevent us from having the experience we were searching for.

I am sure that these islands are still worth visiting for many people, but Al and I couldn’t imagine ourselves spending days on end next to 21 year olds chugging buckets of rum while being forced to listen to loud techno music at all hours of the day and night.

We wanted to go somewhere that felt like a real Thai island, and was somewhat remote – but a place not so far off the beaten path that we couldn’t find basic necessities. We had an idealistic image of meeting locals, exploring jungles and beaches, and snorkeling through coral reefs. We were starting to believe this type of a place no longer existed in Thailand, until we stumbled on the relatively unknown Island of Koh Mak.

Koh Mak is a privately owned island located on the southeastern part of Thailand, near the border of Cambodia, and only has a handful of resorts and hostels. It refers to itself as the ‘Last Unspoiled Thai Island’ because of how unknown it is, along with the fact that the owners of the island are dedicated to controlling tourism and expansion in an effort to keep it that way. Another bonus: the island is part of a marine national park, so has excellent snorkeling and diving opportunities.

We spent two weeks on this small, natural paradise. We often felt like we were the only two tourists on the island (although there were plenty of others, they just weren’t in our faces at all times). We easily met locals and had the chance to learn and watch how they produce cinnamon on the island from tree bark, regularly ate freshly cooked Thai curries, swam in warm turquoise tropical waters, and even dodged wild boars while trying to get water from the closest shop.

It was amazing, but there were also some unexpected downsides to island life: Al and I had what felt like hundreds of new bug bites pop up every single day, and were constantly fighting off sand fleas. I woke up more than once to a beetle crawling up my leg, and after each nightly thunderstorm, we lost sleep by being forced to listen to the chilling sounds of dozens of rats squeaking and running around in the walls and tin ceiling of our bungalow. It had its ups and downs, and by no means was it a – sit by the ocean on lawn chairs, and have cocktails all day – type of island experience.

Koh Mak was perfect and not perfect all at the same time, and because of that, it was exactly the adventure filled island experience we were looking for.

And now, here is a little glimpse into what a typical day in Koh Mak looked like for us (minus the rats):

 

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Let’s keep it Low Carbon: Koh Mak’s slogan.

 

 

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Every morning, we left our little bug-filled bungalow.

 

 

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The long, humid, sweaty walk to breakfast begins.

 

 

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But it was always so worth it for this breakfast view.

 

 

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After breakfast, we like to stop and help some local gals get coconuts down.

 

 

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Afterwards, it’s time start our long walk to the beach, so we stop at Koh Mak temple to pay our respects by standing awkwardly in front of it.

 

 

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On our walk, we stop by the elementary school. By this point, we’re usually followed by 1-5 local dogs.

 

 

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Al: The Dog Whisperer

 

 

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The school’s mural pays respect to all the countries in Southeast Asia.

 

 

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After walking for about 25 minutes, we finally reach the half way point!

 

 

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This is typically cause for celebration, so we stop for half-way congratulatory beers.

 

The beach of choice for the day typically varies between one of three of our favorites: Ao Soun Yai, Laem Son, and Ao Kao beach.

 

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The pier at Ao Saun Yai.

 

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No people to be found anywhere.

 

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75% of our days consisted of this.

 

 

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aaaanddd… doing stuff like this.

 

 

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The Perfect beaches of Ao Kao.

 

 

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Watching the fishermen and women go about their work on Laem Son.

 

After our day spent swimming, snorkeling, and reading, it is time to head back home in time to catch the sunset.

 

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But first we stop by the cinnamon forests.

 

 

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Watching this never got old.

 

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They also had rows and rows of pineapple plants growing, covered with coconut shells to protect the deliciousness from certain insects, birds, and elements.

 

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We know we’re getting close to home because the amount of tall palm trees starts increasing dramatically.

 

 

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Excited because we’re almost home!

 

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We finally made it.

 

 

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The pier about a 2 minute walk from our bungalow.

 

 

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Our favorite pre-sunset spot.

 

 

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Just in time.

 

 

 

 

2 Comments · Labels: Thailand, Travel

November 16, 2016

For the Love of Elephants

November 16, 2016

Al and I spent a day in Northern Thailand interacting with elephants who were recently rescued from the abuse of riding camps, which are basically entertainment camps throughout Thailand that advertise ‘Elephant Jungle Treks’ and are notorious for capturing and abusing elephants, or ‘breaking their spirit’ to domesticate and train them solely for the purpose of logging or tourism.

The story about our elephant experience has a lot of moving parts, and started long before I ever stepped foot in Thailand. It is about the elephants, of course, but it also is a very personal story, and I view it as one that reflects so much more than just a single day spent with the most moving animals I have ever encountered.

I have loved animals since I was little. My family and I still talk about the time when I was 6 years old, and my parents took us to a restaurant in Florida that had stuffed animal busts hung all over the restaurant. I took one look at the dead animals all around me, sat at the table and cried. I then wrote a note to the manager (which I imagine was probably just a bunch of crayon scratches) begging him or her to please not kill animals anymore. I still remember the gentle smile the waitress gave me when I made my sister hand the note to her as she said kindly, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

I used to ask my parents to take me to the mall, simply because I wanted to go into the pet store and pick up every single ferret, bunny, bird and gerbil they would let me get my hands on. I asked for animal related-toys almost exclusively for every birthday and Christmas (your typical Littlest Pet Shop hoarder). I loved going to zoos and aquariums and animal parks whenever I could, just for the chance to see my favorite animals in the flesh. In third grade, our teachers made us draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up, and I drew myself as a whale trainer, standing under a giant black and white Orca, wearing a blue wet suit with a whistle in my mouth, and one hand reaching out to the sky (an image I am sure that I got directly from Free Willy).

And here is where I think it all goes wrong.  Although I wanted to be a whale trainer because I loved Orca whales, I did not seem to understand on any level that keeping such emotionally intelligent animals in captivity and training them for human entertainment was completely devastating to the development and emotional well-being of the whale. I probably thought these whales loved me just like I loved them. It is easy to dismiss it as being young, but from a young age, I was taught about animals in school almost exclusively through exposure to zoos, caged animals, how we utilize them as humans. Looking back, it is obvious that I genuinely did love animals, yet so many of my thoughts and actions towards them were clear indicators that I did not truly understand what it meant to actually treat animals with great respect and love.

I really believe that the majority of people on earth understand how amazing and important animals are, love them to some extent, and do not wish to see any harm done to them. But, I think somewhere along the way, we forget that they are not here purely for our benefit or passive entertainment, to eat or use for decorations, furniture, jewelry, or clothes, or to enjoy in confined spaces when it is convenient for us.  As a result, many people view them as ‘less-than’ and treat them accordingly. We want to go to places like zoos so we can see them and interact with them because we love them, but we are doing it in all the wrong ways.

When you travel, you cannot help but see the destructive treatment of animals magnified in so many ways, on the streets and in cages everywhere you go. I wish that I could say being exposed to travel at a young age helped me to learn my lesson early on, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

When I first came to Thailand almost 8 years ago, I knew that I wanted to see and interact with Asian Elephants. Lucky for me, on my second week of our teacher training, the program I was training with organized for us to all go to an elephant camp. I had heard that some places don’t treat elephants well, and to be careful of where you went, but I chose to not look into it any further since I naively assumed that it was unlikely that these elephants would be the mistreated kind since it was being organized through my program.

At the camp, I watched as groups of elephants painted pictures of landscapes, played with a ball, and allowed us to ride them through the jungle. When they were not serving us tourists, they were chained to trees, which we were told was just for their safety to make sure they didn’t wander off. I didn’t see any obvious signs of mistreatment, but I wasn’t looking too hard, either. I remember thinking offhandedly how amazingly smart these animals must be to be able to do these kind of tasks. I cringe now when I imagine myself sitting there surrounded by parachute pant wearing travelers, being entertained by elephants, having no idea that they were tortured, electrocuted, beaten, and stuck with rods to be able to accomplish each and every carefully made stroke on their canvas.

Now I understand that no matter where you go in Asia, if there is an elephant camp that permits you to ride an elephant, or has them do tricks of any kind, this means that under no uncertain circumstances, this elephant has been abused. Here is an article that explains why this is in a little more depth: Why You Shouldn’t Ride Elephants in Thailand.

After my experience at the elephant camp, I moved on and went about my life, forgetting about the elephants for the most part. Until last year, when Al and I were starting to plan this trip, I began to think a lot more about my time in Thailand, and the day I spent at the elephant camp.

I felt an overwhelming pull to come back and use my money to put towards a program that helped rescue and rehabilitate elephants from the same type of camps that I had participated in years prior. I knew that I could have just donated money, and I didn’t need to go all the way to Thailand to do it, but I also knew that it wouldn’t be enough. I felt such great remorse for how ignorant I had been before, and how I had inadvertently contributed to the horrible treatment of these brilliant animals. In a selfish way, I also wanted reassurance with my own eyes that there were people and programs out there which were actively doing good.

When I first came here in 2009, I was the worst kind of traveler. There is not a more accurate way to put it than that. In my mind, I was just here to have a good time, and to see some cool stuff. I was the kind of traveler who thought only of themselves, and thought very little about the type of impact my choices and behaviors had on the world.

I considered this a lot when we were planning our trip. So much of what we were planning and booking was centered around making sure we were traveling as responsibly as possible. We made sure to choose destinations and activities where we felt we could contribute to something positive, even if it was something as simple as where we spent our money. This is not something that I gave much (if any) thought to when I was younger.

I traced back through my mind from 2009 and 2016, and tried to pinpoint just exactly what happened to cause this change. I had cared before, but not to the extent that it shaped my life decisions; it was more in a passive way. If someone were to ask me in 2009 as I sat the elephant camp if I loved or cared about elephants, I would have said yes, even though my actions were directly opposing that. But things had changed. When did I start caring so much more about everything, and why? I saw that there was one single change I made in my life that had the greatest impact on who I am as a person now, although at the time I had no idea how much it would change me.

I stopped eating animals.

Go ahead, roll your eyes, but it is true. The day I became a vegetarian started a chain of events in my life that lead me to become what I believe is a more compassionate, curious, and caring person. I started paying more attention to everything, starting with what I put in my body. It was more than just saying out loud that I loved animals and the environment, but it was making an active personal choice that literally put ‘my money where my mouth’ was.

It started with animals and food, but that was only the beginning. I started paying more attention to how the decisions I make, no matter how big or small, affect everything and everyone I love. I started to take more responsibility for my life and my choices. I stopped pretending that other people with more money, power, and influence will fix things, and recognized that I have to do my part to participate and help wherever I can. And I genuinely became so much happier.

That decision led me to learn so much more about the world around us and deepened my love for animals to a completely new level. And that is when I started to really understand what I had previously missed about elephants, and realized the unforgivable things we are doing to them all over the world.

Because it turns out, elephants are really really amazing and spiritual animals. Most of us already know these facts, but it bears repeating. I learned how intelligent they are, and how playful they are. Each elephant has its own distinct personality. They are insanely social animals, who do everything they can to protect each other, especially when it comes to their young. They feel fear, happiness, hope, sadness, and especially grief. They bury their dead, and hold actual funerals for them. When a matriarch of a family dies, it can be detrimental to the rest of the heard, who relies on her for direction and her great knowledge through age. It’s also true that they remember everything, which is why they are known to actively fear and avoid specific humans who have caused them pain, but still trust those who have shown them love.

I also learned that elephants are about 15 years away from going completely extinct in the wild. This is because of poaching (apparently people think that having a trinket made of ivory is more valuable than the actual elephant) and loss of habitat. Without them, we lose a great equalizer in our ecosystem. Without them, we lose what I believe is such a gift on this planet, and with it, so much of the good of what makes us human. It makes me think of the quote from the documentary Ivory Game where one of the men who is fighting against poaching says,

 

What have we become if everything we value, everything we care about, we consume?

 

Outside the threat of extinction, Asian elephants are all at risk of being captured for tourist camps, and loss of habitat. Luckily, we learned western tourists are for the most part, becoming much more aware of the horrible treatment of elephants, and choosing not to participate in these type of establishments. The program we chose had a family, four of which had been rescued from abuse in riding camps.

We got to see the elephants, feed them, interact with them, and swim with them. Al and I were both speechless at how much presence these animals had.

We both still talk about how we will always remember the moment the elephants came stampeding down the hill, running full speed towards us roaring and trumpeting, anxious to get their trunks on the bananas we were holding.

 

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Right before they turned directly at us.

 

It was one of the most heart stopping moments; to stand in the mud holding a banana in my hand as a family of elephants ran directly at me. I would say it is comparable to how you might feel the first time you see and feel the power of a large whale breeching out of the ocean for the first time.

We were able to feed them, touch them, and just simply watch them. Al and I both agreed we could have spent an entire week, just sitting there observing the elephants. You can feel how strongly they are bonded to each other. You can tell they are acutely aware of everything that is going on around them.

 

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I mean, COMON!

 

 

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We carried their food across the land a few times so that they could get some exercise before chowing down. Here they are trudging up the hill to get to us.

 

 

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Mom and baby, doing what they love. Eating and hanging together.

 

 

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How beautiful is she?!

 

At one point, the mother elephant was laying in the mud (which we were told is like sunscreen for elephants) and noticed her son had run out of her line of vision. With one swift movement, she rose upward from the mud. Suddenly, everything froze and felt almost as though the earth was splitting in two as a giant land mass rose through. As soon as she was upright, she took off running to be with her son, and shortly after, the rest of the herd followed suit.

They headed to the nearby waterfall, where they rolled around and played. The two kids wrestled with each other, and particularly enjoyed rolling their head backwards under the force of the waterfall as the grandmother dipped her trunk in and out of the water to spray them all from above. This entire time I was standing off to the side, just watching them in amazement.

Part of me still couldn’t help but think, I shouldn’t be here. They just want to be together without all of us crowding them. None of us should be here.

As wonderful as our experience was, it still wasn’t without faults. I had that nagging feeling that the elephants retained some fear towards the caretakers, who still used training calls in order to direct the elephants and address them. They were still being surrounded by tourists, and you could see that over time it became tiring for the elephants, particularly the baby.

There were other participants of the program there who quickly grew restless with the elephants after they felt they had grabbed enough selfies with each elephant. Many tourists made stupid comments about and towards the elephants, and it took everything in me not to karate kick them square in the chest, off the hill and watch them roll into a nearby ditch. I wanted to stay calm for the elephants, after all.

I struggled with this quite a bit while we were there and afterwards. I was so determined to spend time and money with a good organization, but I started to wonder if it was still a painful and stressful experience for the elephants, and if my money spent here would have been better off donating to a wildlife fund that supports the effort to keeping elephants wild.

I spoke with one of the caretakers and drilled him with questions about the treatment of the elephants, their organization, where the elephants came from, and where they were going. He told me that they try to save as many elephants as they can from elephant camps (they had a few other locations), but it is extremely difficult without funding. It is a very costly business to take care of elephants, and they rely strongly on the tourist’s dollar to keep these elephants in a safe place.

This is why I believe they allow for some leeway and let tourist interact with them in a more excessive way than is really needed, believing this is what the tourists want. Without their money, they would either die from lack of food, or be forced to return to a riding camp where they are abused and mistreated, yet fed. I unnecessarily blurted out that I’d rather be dead than live a life of torture in chains, to which the caretaker agreed.

In that sense, our money going to these places does make a difference. Although these elephants will never be wild, it is a positive step towards giving them a life of peace beside their families. I did give my feedback to the organization on what I believed they should be doing better, as there was a lot of room for improvement when it came to educating the program participants on how to interact with the elephants.

Luckily there are many more sanctuaries popping up around Thailand, so there are an increasing amount of options for tourists who want to interact with elephants in an ethical way. However, there are also some places that advertise themselves as ‘sanctuaries’ for these elephants, yet permit riding, so we just have to be really careful about doing our research and choosing the right places.

At the end of the day, we were allowed to freely observe the elephants as they ate. About an hour passed by (that felt like a minute) and Al and I realized that we were the only two left with the entire family. We spent time approaching each elephant from a distance and looking into their eyes while mentally (and sometimes verbally) telling them how beautiful they are, how thankful we were for them, that we loved them, and how sorry we were for what was happening to them all over the world. We promised we would do our part to help however we can.

 

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The whole experience was a positive one, yet still a difficult one. We really no longer need zoos or captive situations to learn about conservation with animals, now that we have access to endless technology. I thought about myself as the little girl who cried at the restaurant and desperately wanted to be a whale trainer, and I think she would agree with me now when I say that watching these animals move freely in their natural environment is a much better way to love them, and beats interacting with them in captivity every single time.

I think back to the stupid decision I made in 2009, and I understand now that I had a long way to go (and still do) when it comes to growth. None of us are perfect, and we never will be, but it reminds me it is more important that we learn and move forward from our bad decisions and mistakes than to spend too much time dwelling on them. It also makes me keep a phrase that has been running through my head a lot lately at the forefront of my mind: When you know better, do better.

 

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Petition to request the government of Thailand to stop the mistreatment of Elephants

9 ways you can help elephants 

Donate to Elephant Voices

2 Comments · Labels: Thailand, Travel

November 4, 2016

Three Months On the Road: Across Two Continents

November 4, 2016

I legitimately cannot believe I am already posting our month three wrap up video. It is hard to accept how fast this trip is flying by. October was a month full of change and adventure for us. It still blows my mind how much life can be fit into 31 days.  We spent time with friends and family, celebrated a marriage, discovered our ancestry, said goodbye to Europe and hello to Asia, explored the mountains by motorbike, and met some of the most incredible animals we have ever seen.

Just like with any type of summary; this video is a snapshot of what we have been doing the past month, but there is so much that can’t be fit in to a 4 minute montage. Not to mention, we completely failed at documenting an entire week in the UK.

We started the month in Slovenia, ending our stint in the Balkans, moved onto two weeks in Ireland and the UK, and finished it off in Thailand.

So far, I am happy to report that month three on the road has been the best one yet (a fair warning that I will likely make this claim every single month):

 

 

 

 

 

12 Comments · Labels: Ireland, Thailand, Travel

November 2, 2016

Getting Back on the Bike

November 2, 2016

Our first two and a half months, we were going non-stop in the Balkans and the UK, moving every 2-3 days.  In Europe, every location, every route, and every Airbnb had been pre-planned (by us) before we left the US.  This is exactly how we wanted the road trip portion of our trip to be, and it was absolutely perfect.

We anticipated that by this point in our trip, we would be ready to switch things up in a major way. We wanted to give ourselves the opportunity to travel as slow or as quickly as we wanted, without being moved along by any previously made decisions.  Since we had no idea how we would feel at this point in our adventure (would we want to go home? Would we have blown through all of our savings?) we thought the best idea was to pick a region, and leave the rest wide open.  Travel without an agenda, and make the decisions as we go.

Enter Southeast Asia.

 

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Seems like a picture that would fit most people’s images of Asia, right?

 

Southeast Asia was the perfect choice for the next phase of our trip.  I’ve mentioned this already, but I lived and worked as an English teacher in Bangkok when I was 23, and when my contract was up,  I spent 7 weeks backpacking with friends through Vietnam, Singapore, Cambodia, Indonesia, and Malaysia.  You would think I had my fill of Southeast Asia after that, but instead it just left me wanting more.

7 weeks is not enough time to see these countries.  We whipped through them so fast, that it all feels like a blur when I look back on my time there.  There was so much I didn’t do and so much I didn’t see, that I knew I had to come back.  It also happened that Southeast Asia was at the top of Al’s bucket list; so the decision was made.

We decided to pre-book 3 days in Bangkok and a little over two weeks in Chiang Mai, to give ourselves time to slow down, adjust to our new surroundings, and figure out what our next move would be.

Even though I was beyond excited for our Southeast Asia phase, part of me was a little hesitant to return to Thailand, a place that I had already spent a significant amount of time in.  I struggled with the idea of re-treading old footsteps, when there were so many other places in the world I haven’t seen yet.  On top of that, I was wary about revisiting that time in my life. I mentioned it in this post, but my time living and working in Thailand was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, but also one of the most difficult.  For some inexplicable reason, I still felt a pull to return with Al.

When we arrived in Bangkok, I had no idea how I would feel; it has been almost seven years since I last stepped foot in this humid, hectic, insane city in Southeast Asia.  I kept reminding myself that once upon a time, in another life, I actually lived here.

As our taxi driver wove us through the freeways and traffic, I looked out the window trying to get a glimpse of something, anything, that would remind me of that fact.  Everything looked different, while somehow looking exactly the same.  No matter where I looked, I couldn’t orient myself.

That was how I felt all the time when I lived in Bangkok.  As much as I learned about the city, as much as I explored it, I never really understood Bangkok.  I could never position myself correctly (this may partly be due to my horrible sense of direction).  I would always look out on the skyline and just see a haze of grey smog floating over the seemingly random skyscrapers.  I have always been a fan of skylines, but I have never been a fan of this one.  I once wrote a blog post comparing the cities I had lived in to different types of relationships; and in this scenario, Bangkok was the ex-boyfriend that ate me up and spit me out.

If you can’t tell already,  I have a complicated relationship with Bangkok.  My time living here was one of the biggest growth periods of my life, but also one of the hardest (funny how that always seems to go hand in hand).

Once we were settled into our Airbnb, we decided to tackle some of Bangkok’s streets and markets, and I was overwhelmed with how familiar everything felt.

I can’t really explain it, but sometimes when you travel, you often feel like you leave little parts of yourself scattered around the world.  Essentially you are the same person, but when you move to a foreign country, you are in a state of constant adjustment.  Your personality is not necessarily exactly the same as it would be at home, because you are having to use different skills, different senses, different parts of your brain.  You are surviving and learning and trying to keep your head above water all at the same time (at least this is how it can often feel for me).  This inevitably brings out new parts of yourself, and your personality that you don’t access regularly when you are at home, because you don’t need to.

Walking around, I was hit with the smell of of grilled meats, hot garbage, curry spices, and car exhaust, all while randomly being dripped on by an unidentifiable liquid from above.  Every single part of it felt so familiar, yet so far away at the same time.

 

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We happened across a huge ceremony for the King, who recently passed away. The people of Thailand love their king as a collective, and are currently in a year-long mourning period (hence the black everywhere).

 

It is one of the most bizarre feelings I have ever had.  I could connect with my surroundings, because I had seen, smelled and experienced it all before.  But I could not connect with the person, the girl, that I was when I lived there.

One of my first thoughts was, how the hell did I ever live in a city like this?  I took Al around to my old neighborhood and regular spots, and the memories came flooding back.  I could remember myself walking around in my teacher uniform, jumping on the back of a motorbike to meet friends, ordering food like a local, using broken Thai to barter with a vendor who was trying to rip me off.  Was I ever really that person?

 

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Proof it happened: Hitting up my local 7-11 to blow of steam after a strenuous day of teaching.

 

It’s almost like 7 years ago me, and current me are two completely different people, but somehow I was able to access vague memories of that person.  I have never felt so disconnected from who I once was.  Remembering that time made me realize just how complacent I had become in my life since living in Bangkok, how little I have really challenged myself, or forced myself out of my comfort zone since then.

I am by no means glorifying the person I was at 23, or wishing that I was the same person I used to be.  There are so many things about my life and who I was that desperately needed to change.  I am glad to have grown as much as I have, but I didn’t fully realize how much I have changed until I walked the streets of Bangkok and could no longer connect with who I used to be.

It sounds cliché, but it was like I had shed an entire skin and grown a new exterior in those passing years.  Except, when I shed my previous skin, I forgot to hold onto the good parts.  The part of me that was fearless, independent, and chased every type of adventure.

I don’t know if it is just part of growing up, but I felt like that aspect of my personality had become completely dormant.  Over the years in Chicago, I became so settled in my routine and lifestyle that I rarely ventured outside of it, or sought out experiences that made me truly uncomfortable.  I stopped really trying.  As a result, I found myself feeling like I was sleepwalking through life at the ripe old age of 28.  Basically, I had become a little too comfortable being comfortable.

After we left Bangkok, we flew to Chiang Mai for our gloriously long two week stint.  Since I had spent weeks training here before moving to Bangkok, I was flooded with even more memories upon our arrival. Chiang Mai is in the Northern hills, and the 2nd largest city in Thailand.  We had only three objectives to accomplish during our time in the North.  1) relax and recuperate from going non-stop  2) volunteer with elephants rescued from human abuse and slavery, and  3) explore Northern Thailand for an extended period of time by motorbike.  This area is infamous for its stunning mountainous scenery, and the best way to explore it is on a motorbike.  It is something I always dreamed of doing, but except for a few times, never had the chance to while living here.  It was something Al and I talked about doing together for years.

Except once we got into the city, I took one look at the insane traffic and started questioning everything.

I had completely forgotten how intense the driving was.  Hundreds of motorbikes weave in between cars and trucks, cutting each other off and darting around at all different speeds.  Dozens of bikes will form in clusters at once, and then when you least expect it, they will all randomly speed up to try and out run each other.   You have to constantly be on alert for stray dogs jutting out into the middle of the street.  Entire families (including pets) pile up and wobble to maintain balance on a single bike, everyone drives on the left, and roads turn and then turn again at random points, and there seems to be no clear cut set of rules for any of it.

 

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The calm before the storm: Once the light turns green, it’s every man and woman for themselves.

 

Once again, I found myself in shock. I could not believe that I had ever confidently navigated these streets on a motorbike by myself.  There was no way I was going to be able to do it now.  My heart rate started increasing just imagining myself trying to do it.  I spent all night mentally questioning if I could still do it, trying to avoid thinking about all of the worst possible outcomes.  I couldn’t even use the fact that I had successfully done it before to encourage myself, because I still felt like that person wasn’t really me.  That night, I had restless dreams where I tried to scrape Al off the sidewalk with a shovel after he dove off a cliff on his bike.  The fear had even worked its way into my subconscious.

The next day I woke up and I knew I had no choice.  I felt so frustrated with how much I was doubting myself that I simply had to prove that I was capable of doing this.  I knew there had to still be a part of me that believed in myself. I was tired of the back-and-forth doubt fueled mental battle I made myself endure each time I faced a new situation.  This time, I wouldn’t be as reckless and overly-confident (or stupid, as some might say) as I was at 23; I would be cautious and go slowly when I was nervous. I would take my time driving in the city, and make smart decisions.  But no matter what, I would still do it.

We headed straight to a nearby bike shop, Mr. Mechanic, the same place where I had rented a motorbike back in 2009.  They brought our two bikes around and the shop assistant looked at me in the eye and said, You’ve done this before, right?  Even though I was being honest, I still felt like I was lying when I nodded my head yes.

When I got on the bike and she handed me the key, I realized quickly that I had no idea how to turn it on.  ‘Can you just refresh me on how to start this?’   She eyed me suspiciously, probably mentally calculating how much it was going to cost to repair the bike after this crazy foreigner crashed it.

Hold the left break.  Turn the key.  Flip this switch.  Turn the handle.  Go. 

And so, I did.  Pulling out of Mr. Mechanic is the scariest part; you are jutting out onto the middle of one of the busiest roads in the center of the city.  Motorbikes, tuk-tuks, tourists, buses, cars, and bicycles are all fueled together, competing for space, and you have to be constantly alert to find your half-second opening to join them.  My heart was pounding for the first 15 minutes as I tried to remember how to lead us to Doi Suthep, our temple destination on top of a mountain a few miles out of the city.  I went slow at first, over correcting myself with every turn. I started getting more nervous as a light rain fell, but once we left the busy city streets behind and began to wind up the mountain, I slowly regained my confidence. Before long, riding my motorbike and navigating through the busy streets of Chiang Mai felt like second nature again.

We spent the next several days exploring everything northern Thailand has to offer by motorbike, and it has been one of the most fun and freeing experiences of my life.  We rode up winding mountain roads, and through rocky red dirt roads all while being chased by dogs and dodging wild chickens.  We drove through temples and past groups of monks drying their clothes out on the line.  While on our bikes we saw wild animals roaming, water buffalo wading in a shallow lake, and endless stretches of Thai farmers working rice fields.  We spotted a rainbow as we drove through pouring rain in the middle of some of the busiest intersections in Thailand, with the mountains all around us.

Throughout our biking adventure, I couldn’t help but grin every time Al and I would pull up next to each other at a red light, the heat from all of the surrounding engines blowing on my ankles, and one of us would inevitabley ask the other ‘what song is in your head right now?’  I know that these days will be some of my favorite memories from our trip for decades to come, and I wouldn’t have had any of it if I let the nervous voice in my head convince me I shouldn’t do it.

 

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View from Al’s helmet, driving out of the city as the crowds start to die down.

 

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Feeling free and confident (enough to hold a GoPro clearly) on the open roads

 

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We named our bikes Pokey and Bloo after Gumby characters.

 

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It’s so hard not to pull over every 5 seconds.

 

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This reminded me of Jurassic Park.

 

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Giant Golden Monk. All the cars honk at it when they pass as a sign of respect.

 

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Thai Energy Drink Ad. Many Thai people enjoyed watching us try to do this at the gas station.

 

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Farmers working the stunning land.

 

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Making me eat his dust, right before losing his sandal. Karma.

 

So, there it was.  Getting back on the bike was proof that I could still do it, and I hadn’t really lost the adventurous, confident part of myself that I once had in spades. I felt a surge of motivation knowing that this aspect of my personality wasn’t completely gone.

I think it was important for me to be here and experience this right now, to remember how to trust myself and my decisions.  Fear takes form in a million different ways, and can be so crippling if we let it take over.  It can prevent us from really experiencing things, and I can’t think of a worse way for me to live than in constant fear and doubt of something created in my own head.

Sometimes it is as simple as forcing yourself to get back behind the driver’s seat of a motorbike to realize that you are capable of doing anything.  (Except if you’re in Bangkok, because that’s just insane).

 

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6 Comments · Labels: Life, Thailand, Travel

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