The Hmong tribe villagers of Sa Pa believe that painting a red circle on your forehead using water buffalo's blood will cure a headache.
On arrival from our bogus journey through the mountains we find ourselves surrounded by small, fiery tribal women hawking their wares for us tourists who quite obviously have just gotten into town. Usually I push my way through with my hands over my head for protection from "The Village People", but there was something different about these women. Maybe it was the fresh air in my lungs or the pure joy of getting there in one piece, but I really enjoyed their company and laughter. I bought a pretty scarf from one of them that I had been eying ever since my arrival, and they promised to come back later to show us around. Weathered travelers know that people will say just about anything to get you to buy stuff, so I wasn't actually expecting to see much more of them.
I was surprised to be awakened from a nap by Haydin to inform me that there were some village ladies downstairs and that they had invited us out for drinks. My travel radar went off again, knowing that there are a lot of scams where you get "invited" out by locals, only to get stuck with a hefty bill at the end of the night. We all went with them anyway and sat down at a Bia Hoi.
Bia Hoi is a genius idea. These old ladies have kegs of beer out on the street, and you buy a pitcher of beer for the price of a bottle in a bar. They have tiny plastic chairs you used to sit on in kindergarten and it's the social event of the town until the kegs run dry. So we sit and we chat and I find them to be beautiful, amazing women. Sue, Sa, and her daughter Cue all speak fantastic English, as well as Vietnamese, their local Hmong dialect, and an assortment of French and Spanish as well. I almost fell out of my chair when I told Sa that I lived in Mexico and she replied with "Hola, como estas?"
It's hard to describe these women, but I can definitely say that they glow. Their traditional dress includes a pair of velvety shorts, a tshirt and a beautifully stitched outer coat. All of this is tied together with a hand stitched belt that took over a year to make. Add a little hat, a scarf and matching velvet leg warmers on a four foot tall tribal lady wearing all the rings, earrings and necklaces she can without falling over, and you have an idea as to what my new friends, or should I say my new mommies, look like. Or you can check out the picture I attached.
Yes, I've been adopted. After hours of talking, laughing, sharing stories and learning about each other, we all split the bill evenly and they invite us to their village for lunch the next day. We meet up and walk the seven kilometers that they walk every few days to get back home from Sa Pa, talking the whole way. Sa holds my hand and says, "Rachel, you must come live in the village and I will get you a husband. It's best to be Hmong woman in the village because the man must pay the dowry to marry the woman. You get paid! And my husband also takes care of the children and our pet water buffalo! Ha! It's best that men do the house work too, and I spend my time in Sa Pa having drinks with you! Ha!"
I have an announcement to make: I'm moving into the village and never leaving.
The last three days in Sa Pa I have seen them everywhere, always greeting me by screaming "Daughter!" from across the street with huge smiles, hugs and kisses while I scream "Mommies!" as they skip up. These women took us into their homes, cooked us lunch, taught us about their culture and language, dressed us up in traditional Hmong clothes and introduced us to their husbands, mothers and children without a second thought. Today, at our request, they brought us blankets and belts for us to see and buy because I want one, I love these woman, and because I'm wearing the most beautiful hand stitched belt in the world right now. When the time came to say goodbye it was a sad event. They each give me a big hug, Sue gives me a pretty little purse made by her six year old daughter and Sa gives me a pair of silver earrings. She knows I don't wear earrings and explains that they're not for me. They're for my other mommy.
Tomorrow Haydin and I are back on the motorbike headed east, which is why I'm writing this now. Mel took the train back to Hanoi yesterday and Andrew left on his bike this morning. We'll do four more days cruising around the national parks in northeastern Viet Nam before getting back to Hanoi. From there I might just hop on the train and come straight back! Sa apparently has a husband lined up for me, and I've promised to teach them how to read English if they teach me how to sew.
But only if I get my own water buffalo.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Rachel's Guide to Being Hard Core
To quote Bill and Ted, I just had a most excellent adventure.
Adventure comes in many forms, from a good hike to parenting to just trying something you wouldn't normally do in your daily life. A few days ago I did something I never would have dreamed of doing, purely for logical and safety reasons. It's amazing what you'll do when you have nothing else planned, so I said yes and hopped on the back of a giant dirt bike for a three day journey through the mountains of northwestern Viet Nam with Haydin from New Zealand, Andrew from Canada and Mel from England.
There are a few reasons why this is so wild and crazy for me, the first being that my mom is going to kill me because I have been conditioned my entire life to know that motorcycles are dangerous. Others might be that I know absolutely nothing about bikes or riding them, I am a nervous wreck just watching other people ride motorbikes, and I am ridiculously not hard-core. And still I said yes. The only preparation I could contribute to the trip was to switch from my Buddha necklace to my St. Christopher necklace, which seemed important at the time. I also became the Navigator, because I'm pretty good with maps and talking to people who don't speak English, which made me feel special. Other than that I was completely lost, and on sharing this with fact with Mel I realized that at least I was not alone. So together we put on our "Brave Face", tried to figure out how to put a helmet on, and jumped on the back of a roaring bicycle from hell.
Day One: Ache.
Getting out of Hanoi (a city of four million) in morning traffic was enough to put me over the edge, but I was committed so I tried not to scream too much. Instead I just held on to Andrew so tight that he was having breathing problems. Out of the city however, we had a good day of zipping around mountains, water buffaloes and giant trucks, getting about three hundred kilometers between us and chaotic Hanoi with only minor brushes with death. I don't know if any of you have gone three hundred kms. on a dirt bike, but they are ridiculously uncomfortable. You can't move at all, so when your butt goes numb with pain you have to deal with it or stop to allow circulation to flow once more. At one of the rest breaks I decided that our bike was named Clyde, after my grandfather, because he is strong, smart, and I had the sneaking suspicion he wanted me to go back to University.
Day Two: Pain.
I fell off the bike. Three times. We started off well and I was pumped, purely from the elation of still being alive. But then the child on the bike swerved the wrong way and Andrew decided to hit the mountain and spare the little bastard. My right leg ended up a little smashed up, but other than that we were ok. Actually I'm completely lying. I was really shaken and lost all my confidence for the whole day, making me a nervous wreck and an annoyance to everyone else. After the other two minor slides I was so depleted of all energy that I almost didn't make it. Andrew, Haydin and Mel were all very supportive, but I learned that I'm not much of a motorcycle rider, seeing as how I don't like peeling around blind corners on Vietnamese "highways" and am not much of a thrill-seeker.
Day Three: Excellent!
Haydin talked me back onto the bike for the last leg of the journey, and for that I am very thankful. He said that it's easier to just let go and enjoy the flow of the ride, rather than try to control things that are beyond control to begin with, and he was right. So I woke up early, meditated, practiced my yoga, and charged my iPod. During meditation my Muay Thai trainer Ay appeared and said, "No crying!" which is something he used to say to keep me going when I was down and exhausted. My head clear and my confidence returned, I stopped crying, figuratively, and got back on. With 'Rage Against the Machine' flooding my ears, the wind on my face and my friends beside me I felt alive once more.
The ride was amazing. If you have never seen the rice paddies in northern Viet Nam, then my words can do them no justice. I can only say that they are emerald stairs towards the heavens, shining as the water catches the sun's rays, as far as the eye can see. Little figures in pointy straw hats weave amongst them, and the countless views of peace and perfection are forever seared into my memory. Viet Nam, with all of it's symmetrical yet curvy green rice fields, reminds me of an M.C. Escher painting.
When we reached Sa Pa, our final destination, Mel and I hugged each other in peals of joy and laughter for having survived. Andrew and Haydin just laughed at us for being so ridiculous. I wouldn't have made it without Mel there, and we have jointly decided that we are now "Hard Core", which is pretty cool...
Being self-proclaimed Hard Core always is.
Adventure comes in many forms, from a good hike to parenting to just trying something you wouldn't normally do in your daily life. A few days ago I did something I never would have dreamed of doing, purely for logical and safety reasons. It's amazing what you'll do when you have nothing else planned, so I said yes and hopped on the back of a giant dirt bike for a three day journey through the mountains of northwestern Viet Nam with Haydin from New Zealand, Andrew from Canada and Mel from England.
There are a few reasons why this is so wild and crazy for me, the first being that my mom is going to kill me because I have been conditioned my entire life to know that motorcycles are dangerous. Others might be that I know absolutely nothing about bikes or riding them, I am a nervous wreck just watching other people ride motorbikes, and I am ridiculously not hard-core. And still I said yes. The only preparation I could contribute to the trip was to switch from my Buddha necklace to my St. Christopher necklace, which seemed important at the time. I also became the Navigator, because I'm pretty good with maps and talking to people who don't speak English, which made me feel special. Other than that I was completely lost, and on sharing this with fact with Mel I realized that at least I was not alone. So together we put on our "Brave Face", tried to figure out how to put a helmet on, and jumped on the back of a roaring bicycle from hell.
Day One: Ache.
Getting out of Hanoi (a city of four million) in morning traffic was enough to put me over the edge, but I was committed so I tried not to scream too much. Instead I just held on to Andrew so tight that he was having breathing problems. Out of the city however, we had a good day of zipping around mountains, water buffaloes and giant trucks, getting about three hundred kilometers between us and chaotic Hanoi with only minor brushes with death. I don't know if any of you have gone three hundred kms. on a dirt bike, but they are ridiculously uncomfortable. You can't move at all, so when your butt goes numb with pain you have to deal with it or stop to allow circulation to flow once more. At one of the rest breaks I decided that our bike was named Clyde, after my grandfather, because he is strong, smart, and I had the sneaking suspicion he wanted me to go back to University.
Day Two: Pain.
I fell off the bike. Three times. We started off well and I was pumped, purely from the elation of still being alive. But then the child on the bike swerved the wrong way and Andrew decided to hit the mountain and spare the little bastard. My right leg ended up a little smashed up, but other than that we were ok. Actually I'm completely lying. I was really shaken and lost all my confidence for the whole day, making me a nervous wreck and an annoyance to everyone else. After the other two minor slides I was so depleted of all energy that I almost didn't make it. Andrew, Haydin and Mel were all very supportive, but I learned that I'm not much of a motorcycle rider, seeing as how I don't like peeling around blind corners on Vietnamese "highways" and am not much of a thrill-seeker.
Day Three: Excellent!
Haydin talked me back onto the bike for the last leg of the journey, and for that I am very thankful. He said that it's easier to just let go and enjoy the flow of the ride, rather than try to control things that are beyond control to begin with, and he was right. So I woke up early, meditated, practiced my yoga, and charged my iPod. During meditation my Muay Thai trainer Ay appeared and said, "No crying!" which is something he used to say to keep me going when I was down and exhausted. My head clear and my confidence returned, I stopped crying, figuratively, and got back on. With 'Rage Against the Machine' flooding my ears, the wind on my face and my friends beside me I felt alive once more.
The ride was amazing. If you have never seen the rice paddies in northern Viet Nam, then my words can do them no justice. I can only say that they are emerald stairs towards the heavens, shining as the water catches the sun's rays, as far as the eye can see. Little figures in pointy straw hats weave amongst them, and the countless views of peace and perfection are forever seared into my memory. Viet Nam, with all of it's symmetrical yet curvy green rice fields, reminds me of an M.C. Escher painting.
When we reached Sa Pa, our final destination, Mel and I hugged each other in peals of joy and laughter for having survived. Andrew and Haydin just laughed at us for being so ridiculous. I wouldn't have made it without Mel there, and we have jointly decided that we are now "Hard Core", which is pretty cool...
Being self-proclaimed Hard Core always is.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Frolicking Regulations
I've lost my voice from screaming/haggling in Viet Nam.
I don't know if I was trying to test myself or I just wasn't paying attention, but I definitely took the wrong way to cross the border, or the right, non-tourist way, depending on how you look at it. Either way, it took me five days through the mountains of Laos in the back of a tuk-tuk to finally reach the most stringent border crossing I have ever faced. After losing one travel buddy at the border due to a small paperwork error, I continue on into Viet Nam with a crazy Canadian guy named Andrew who taught the border guards how to play the didgeridoo while I danced so they wouldn't take his camping knife away, although they did make him promise not to stab anyone, which is fair.
Andrew and I make a good team because we're both poor and really stubborn, which is a good quality when trying to get through Viet Nam without being charged six times the going rate. The one bus a day that left the border town headed towards Hanoi tried to charge us one million Vietnamese dong, which is about fifty American dollars and an absolute atrocity. After refusing their price, screaming in English, Spanish and Thai, we storm off in a huff up the highway with our backpacks, fully intending to hike the fifty kilometers to Hanoi rather than pay this ridiculous sum. The bus driver, determined to get our foreign money, circled around the town and came back to try and get us again:
"800,000 dong!"
"No! Screw you! 300,000!" And again we start walking.
"800,000!"
"You don't seem to understand haggling. NO! 400,000 or go away!"
The bus continues to follow us slowly, filled with people, I might add. The Vietnamese loved the show and were in no way perturbed by the hold up. The Norwegian couple on the bus who payed the money were not entertained in the least. Finally the driver and his helper give up,and the bus blows past us. My thumb pops out and I am satisfied to hitchhike, until we round the corner...
"600,000!"
Andrew and I look at each other and shrug. Take a chance, knowing that no car may pass us the whole day, or pay the blasphemous fee and have the whole thing done with. At 300,000 dong each, it's still a rip-off but a lesser evil. We take the deal and the driver bursts into laughter, takes our money and shakes our hands. His knowing nod and smiling eyes say, "I'm proud of you for taking a stand. You're just another crazy foreigner but a good negotiator, and damn do I respect that."
Excellent. And it only took an hour.
Viet Nam is a whirlwind of chaos and regulation at the same time, slightly different from the tranquil back roads of Laos. The constant honking or horns and motorcycles zipping by me in the busy streets of Hanoi has really stressed me out. In Thailand they drive on the left side of the road, in Laos the right, and here in Viet Nam they all tend to stick to the middle of the road and the sidewalks. When going to visit Ho Chi Minh's tomb we had to check our cameras, walk in pairs in somber silence, and got poked a lot by "Official" looking seventeen year-olds wielding pointy guns in military uniforms whilst walking past the nation's savior who has been dead and embalmed for nearly forty years and looks like a wax statue. So basically Viet Nam makes me feel like a slinky in a room full of ironing boards.
Viet Nam is a whirlwind of chaos and regulation at the same time, slightly different from the tranquil back roads of Laos. The constant honking or horns and motorcycles zipping by me in the busy streets of Hanoi has really stressed me out. In Thailand they drive on the left side of the road, in Laos the right, and here in Viet Nam they all tend to stick to the middle of the road and the sidewalks. When going to visit Ho Chi Minh's tomb we had to check our cameras, walk in pairs in somber silence, and got poked a lot by "Official" looking seventeen year-olds wielding pointy guns in military uniforms whilst walking past the nation's savior who has been dead and embalmed for nearly forty years and looks like a wax statue. So basically Viet Nam makes me feel like a slinky in a room full of ironing boards.
I am outraged and intend on frolicking my ass off.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Mo' Money Mo' Problems
I got yelled at yesterday by a swarm of tribal ladies in a village in northern Laos called Muang Sing. They were genuinely concerned that I was sitting peacefully drinking coffee and reading without my newborn baby in sight. It was when I burst in to hysterical fits of laughter that the situation turned sour.
It took ten minutes in broken English and Thai for me to realize that their reasoning behind this madness was that my breasts were so large that I must be breast-feeding. After pacifying them with the small amount of Thai I speak they sat down at my table and started asking me questions about everything, like where I was from and if I wanted to buy one of their bracelets or some opium.
I love northern Laos. Yesterday I took three different buses for a total of eleven hours to get one hundred miles. The roads are packed dirt, sand and rocks, and not kind to your sanity. Around every corner is yet another postcard-perfect views of rolling mountains, roadside villages, grass huts, pebble-strewn streams, and children playing with the dirt in the middle of the highway permanently seared into my memory. There are no rest stops, so if you need to throw up, just open a window, which happens sickeningly often. If you need to go to the bathroom and speak Lao, you can ask the driver to stop on the side of the road for you. If you need to go to the bathroom and don't speak Lao, you're basically screwed.
I'm feel very confident in saying that the Lao-wegians are the most chill people I have ever met. Northern Laos is a lot more impoverished than their central brothers, so they have been very interested in me and my "western" gadgets, like books. Every time I pull out my book, which is always near me, they crane their necks to check out the pictures on the cover and the print inside they cannot read. On Bus Three I tired of 'Tai Pan', by James Clavell and went into by backpack for a 'Moby Dick' reunion, and that nearly blew their minds.
They also LOVE my iPod. On Bus One I was sitting next to one of the young tribal girls. My music called to me, and her eyes widened like tea saucers when I offered her one of the ear pieces. We started off with 'Job 2 Do', which has the number one hit song in Thailand right now, and which I am totally addicted to. (For anyone interested in Thai reggae music, check out the CD called 'No War' by Job 2 Do, it is amazing!) The Thai and Laos languages are very similar, so she understood the words, even though I didn't. When she stopped quivering with excited fear over the music coming out of my iPod, I switched it up to figure out what other music she could like...
Rachel's Study of the Musical Taste of Fifteen Year-Old Tribal Girl From Laos:
Positive: Nina Simone, Lauryn Hill, and Ben Harper.
Negative: The Prodigy, TLC, Tom Jones and Biggie Smalls, aka Notorious BIG.
Someone should give me a PhD.
It took ten minutes in broken English and Thai for me to realize that their reasoning behind this madness was that my breasts were so large that I must be breast-feeding. After pacifying them with the small amount of Thai I speak they sat down at my table and started asking me questions about everything, like where I was from and if I wanted to buy one of their bracelets or some opium.
I love northern Laos. Yesterday I took three different buses for a total of eleven hours to get one hundred miles. The roads are packed dirt, sand and rocks, and not kind to your sanity. Around every corner is yet another postcard-perfect views of rolling mountains, roadside villages, grass huts, pebble-strewn streams, and children playing with the dirt in the middle of the highway permanently seared into my memory. There are no rest stops, so if you need to throw up, just open a window, which happens sickeningly often. If you need to go to the bathroom and speak Lao, you can ask the driver to stop on the side of the road for you. If you need to go to the bathroom and don't speak Lao, you're basically screwed.
I'm feel very confident in saying that the Lao-wegians are the most chill people I have ever met. Northern Laos is a lot more impoverished than their central brothers, so they have been very interested in me and my "western" gadgets, like books. Every time I pull out my book, which is always near me, they crane their necks to check out the pictures on the cover and the print inside they cannot read. On Bus Three I tired of 'Tai Pan', by James Clavell and went into by backpack for a 'Moby Dick' reunion, and that nearly blew their minds.
They also LOVE my iPod. On Bus One I was sitting next to one of the young tribal girls. My music called to me, and her eyes widened like tea saucers when I offered her one of the ear pieces. We started off with 'Job 2 Do', which has the number one hit song in Thailand right now, and which I am totally addicted to. (For anyone interested in Thai reggae music, check out the CD called 'No War' by Job 2 Do, it is amazing!) The Thai and Laos languages are very similar, so she understood the words, even though I didn't. When she stopped quivering with excited fear over the music coming out of my iPod, I switched it up to figure out what other music she could like...
Rachel's Study of the Musical Taste of Fifteen Year-Old Tribal Girl From Laos:
Positive: Nina Simone, Lauryn Hill, and Ben Harper.
Negative: The Prodigy, TLC, Tom Jones and Biggie Smalls, aka Notorious BIG.
Someone should give me a PhD.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sunny Little Paradise
Last night the electricity went out over the entire town of Vang Vieng while I was eating dinner with friends. The waitress walked over using the light from her iPhone to bring us candles, assuring us that this happens all the time, and it should be back on in half an hour or so.
I love Laos. Stuck between the paddy field mentality and the influences of a modern age, it is everything I could want. Two weeks ago I took a wooden longboat trip up the Mekong River from the border of Thailand to Luang Prabang, which took two full days. It is quite a rare thing to travel for 48 hours on a boat and not see a bridge anywhere, but only a handful of houses. The tourist industry here is but an infant, which is why so many backpackers are drawn to the peaceful mountains and the ever-calm "Lao-wegians" as I call them, because the "Laos people" just sounds weird. No one hassles you on the streets because it's hot and they can't be bothered to try to sell you something. If you want a taxi you're probably going to have to wake one up and then convince him to work for a bit. The guy running the internet cafe I'm in right now is asleep to my left, so I'll have to wake him up to pay him. The honor system is definitely at work here.
And then there's Vang Vieng. Some genius figured out that if you build a few bars and rope swings by the river and buy a couple hundred inner tubes, then the foreigners will come. So for a few dollars a day you can tube down the river, which is the only thing to do here by the way, and be pulled up to a bar by guys on land with bamboo poles.
There are good and bad points to this, the good obviously being that it's ridiculously fun and it might just be the best party I've ever been to in my life. You meet some amazing, fun people, the rope swings are wicked and the mud pit is great for wrestling your new best friends in. The somewhat bad side to this is that you have a bunch of young people swimming around when they're too drunk/stoned to realize that it's a bad idea. Apparently there were three broken legs from Swing Five last week, and yesterday the rope from Swing Three snapped and some Irish guy got thrown half-way across the river. It's now the most popular swing.
Another interesting thing about Laos is that, unlike Thailand, they aren't at all strict on drugs. Rachel's Travel Tip #47: Do not try the Marijuana-Mushroom-Opium-Whiskey-Red Bull Milkshake while trying to float down a river. It's just...wrong. Instead, perhaps just order a cocktail, but beware because they are only served in buckets, quite literally.
Now Laos sounds like Spring Break in Cancun, but I can assure you it is nothing but divine. The people are so friendly and helpful, the purple-green mountains surrounding me are ever-present and the baguettes are always fresh and warm, being the lasting remnants of the old French rule. The balance of the old ways and new is beautiful: how many of the villagers still bathe and wash clothes in the river but have a camera phone to take a picture of you from their moped as you walk down the dirt road into town. Although it is still technically a Communist country, I have never seen or experienced any indication as such and feel comfortable and happy in my sunny little paradise.
Hopefully we'll have electricity tonight...
Friday, February 13, 2009
Jing Jai (True Heart)
I finished a month of Muay Thai training on Wednesday. Two to three hours a day, six days a week for four weeks. Now I'm not quite sure what to do.
I was thinking about doing another month before I looked at my bank account. Then I was thinking about doing a week or two more, purely because I like this new healthy lifestyle and the boxing community is more of a family than a training regime. Plus I adore Pai. I fall in love with Pai every day, with all of its funny quirks and good energy. I also have my vintage clothing store that I am settling down with nicely, so when the thought to leaving Pai and Thailand entered my mind, I was completely unprepared.
Confused, I asked my friends, family, absolute strangers and my dog Crystal what I should do, and all of them responded with some version of "Follow Your Heart." So I asked my heart what to do. At that particular moment my heart was napping, so it took quite a few days to get a response. When I did it was loud and clear, and this is what it said:
"Rachel, you have done what you said you would do, and that is an accomplishment. You completed an entire month of Muay Thai, and that is an accomplishment. You know Pai and you have many friends who will be sad to see you go, which is an accomplishment. If your biggest problem in life is whether to stay in Pai or go traveling in Laos, I'd say you have a pretty good life. It is now time to move on, and when you are ready the next adventure will find you."
Turns out my heart was right.
Accomplishment is a many splendored thing, and I was floating on a cloud my last day of training. It was such a high, such a rush to follow through and complete something I told myself I was going to complete, even if I doubted myself most of the way. And I miss it. Two days of freedom and all I do is get up early and want to go back to Ay kicking me and laughing, but pushing me to be just a little bit better, knowing that I could do it. I will miss Bee yelling at me about my left side-kick technique which is never right. I will miss Tong flirting with me, Egg teaching me phrases in Thai I should never use in public, and Tree singing while preening his chickens for the next cock-fight. I will miss all the guys and girls I train with, always joking around and laughing but so supportive of each other when needed. I will miss waking up and walking through Pai early, when the mist hasn't quite yet risen and the absolute beauty of the morning surrounds and swallows me in the greens of the mountains and the golds of the monk's robes as they collect their morning alms. As I write this, I fall in love with Pai all over again. As I write this, I smile knowing I have an excellent path ahead of me, albeit unknown. As I write this, I know I am ready.
It's a night bus and a two day boat trip down the Mekong River into Laos, landing in Luang Prabang. After exploring Laos I'll head up into northern Vietnam, travel down the coast and cross into Cambodia. If time, money and visas allow, I'd also really like to get to Myanmar. So much is uncertain, but that is simply a part of life.
"You cannot escape from your heart, so you might as well listen to what it has to say."
-Paolo Coelho, "The Alchemist"
******I have finally got up more travel pictures!!! Check them out here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/20085426@N05/sets/:
I was thinking about doing another month before I looked at my bank account. Then I was thinking about doing a week or two more, purely because I like this new healthy lifestyle and the boxing community is more of a family than a training regime. Plus I adore Pai. I fall in love with Pai every day, with all of its funny quirks and good energy. I also have my vintage clothing store that I am settling down with nicely, so when the thought to leaving Pai and Thailand entered my mind, I was completely unprepared.
Confused, I asked my friends, family, absolute strangers and my dog Crystal what I should do, and all of them responded with some version of "Follow Your Heart." So I asked my heart what to do. At that particular moment my heart was napping, so it took quite a few days to get a response. When I did it was loud and clear, and this is what it said:
"Rachel, you have done what you said you would do, and that is an accomplishment. You completed an entire month of Muay Thai, and that is an accomplishment. You know Pai and you have many friends who will be sad to see you go, which is an accomplishment. If your biggest problem in life is whether to stay in Pai or go traveling in Laos, I'd say you have a pretty good life. It is now time to move on, and when you are ready the next adventure will find you."
Turns out my heart was right.
Accomplishment is a many splendored thing, and I was floating on a cloud my last day of training. It was such a high, such a rush to follow through and complete something I told myself I was going to complete, even if I doubted myself most of the way. And I miss it. Two days of freedom and all I do is get up early and want to go back to Ay kicking me and laughing, but pushing me to be just a little bit better, knowing that I could do it. I will miss Bee yelling at me about my left side-kick technique which is never right. I will miss Tong flirting with me, Egg teaching me phrases in Thai I should never use in public, and Tree singing while preening his chickens for the next cock-fight. I will miss all the guys and girls I train with, always joking around and laughing but so supportive of each other when needed. I will miss waking up and walking through Pai early, when the mist hasn't quite yet risen and the absolute beauty of the morning surrounds and swallows me in the greens of the mountains and the golds of the monk's robes as they collect their morning alms. As I write this, I fall in love with Pai all over again. As I write this, I smile knowing I have an excellent path ahead of me, albeit unknown. As I write this, I know I am ready.
It's a night bus and a two day boat trip down the Mekong River into Laos, landing in Luang Prabang. After exploring Laos I'll head up into northern Vietnam, travel down the coast and cross into Cambodia. If time, money and visas allow, I'd also really like to get to Myanmar. So much is uncertain, but that is simply a part of life.
"You cannot escape from your heart, so you might as well listen to what it has to say."
-Paolo Coelho, "The Alchemist"
******I have finally got up more travel pictures!!! Check them out here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/20085426@N05/sets/:
Friday, February 6, 2009
Soi ching ching katoi tuan
It was when the eight year old knocked out the other eight year old and the crowd started cheering that I started biting my fingernails.
Maybe I'm just a weirdo, but that sort of stuff makes me squeamish. Here I am kissing my little Buddha and praying that everyone comes out unscathed, which kinda defeats the purpose of being at a Muay Thai fight at Tha Phae Stadium in Chaing Mai. What can I say? I'm a lover, not a fighter.
Two people from my gym fought last Monday: Mary from Canada and Joe from England. About fifteen of us piled into a mini van that could comfortably fit eight and drove down the treacherous "highway" through the mountains from Pai to the big city to cheer them on, farang style. Mary was the seventh fight of the evening against a giant Austrian girl with a killer right hook. She, however, had a stunning victory for her very first fight, and now I'm not so sure about Canadians being all that peaceful. Joe was the eighth and headliner for the evening, fighting one of the best Muay Thai fighters in Chaing Mai. He was ready, held his own, got some major kicks in, but lost to points to a guy who has been fighting since the age of six. Not really fair, is it?
All in all the evening was fantastic, except for the loss of my fingernails due to stress from watching my friends take a beating, even though they were dishing it out as well. I have realized recently that I have zero agression in me, I have no desire to punch anyone not wearing sparring pads, and I severely dislike getting punched. All that said, I'm in my third week of training and I absolutely love it. I feel fit, energetic, more confident, and I've developed quite a tolerance for small, annoying pains like knuckle bruises, which I now only have three of.
Life in Pai is fantastic, and I've got my little routine down well. I have moved from my bamboo hut and am now living true Thai style in the back of my shop. It's great, cheap, challenging, and I'm getting creative with what people might call "roughing it." I get up at seven a.m. every morning and go fill up my shower bucket, which is next to my sink bucket. The water is really cold, so once my bucket is filled I go put it out back in the sun for my shower later. Then I go about my morning and head off to a two to three hour training session, which I'm finally getting the hang of. The rest of the day is split between arduous tasks of reading my book (Moby Dick), napping, practicing my fire spinning, talking to nice people, occasionally going to the pool, playing with my dog, napping, etc.
Oh yes, I have a dog. Her name is Crystal, and technically she has me. She takes me out on walks all the time, and introduces me to everyone as they all know her and keep wondering who the new farang in town is. Which brings me to how much I love Thai people. They are hilarious, and they think I'm just about the strangest thing that has happened to them, so we get along well in comical disbelief.
Reasons I Love Thai People:
1. They are always smiling, laughing and singing.
2. The slight chill of the Pai evenings has everyone coming up from Chaing Mai for the weekends to parade around in their winter clothing, such as earmuffs and snow boarding goggles when it is literally 90 degrees (30 Celsius) every afternoon.
3. They take pictures of everything that is not beautiful scenery, such as post boxes, unimportant cafe signs, and me. Yesterday I saw a family of seven take a group picture in front of the cement Pai Bank sign, with the photographers back to the mountains. They also hugely enjoy taking multiple pictures of themselves in different lights, never forgetting the Stereotypical Asian Pride Pose of a peace sign in Every. Single. Picture.
4. Their respect. Bowing is such a huge part of daily life, and I love the intricasies of the proper bow. If someone is older than you then palms together at your heart as you bow your head is appropriate. Lower head bows for monks. If you're not sure about age and don't want to offend someone, a simple head bow will do. Farang are included on this should we choose to participate.
5. Muay Thai is the national sport, and kids can start learning at the age of six. It also wields great respect and has been something of a shock to me to get bows from people when I walk through the main street in my Thai boxing shorts at 7:30 every morning. To them a foreigner training in Muay Thai is pretty shocking, especially girls, and yesterday a policer officer gave me a slight bow, which was totally unexpected. I had to stop mid-stride for a low bow as a compliment to his, and we parted as new friends.
6. Thai food is the second best food in the world, the first being Mexican. My favorite person in Pai is a tiny lady named Na, who runs Na's Kitchen and is the best and cheapest restaurant in town. For a full meal of Pad Prie-Waan, which is a sweet and sour sauce with tofu, fresh veggies, pineapple, cashews, an egg and rice is less than an American dollar. I love this woman as she is always singing and skipping about her kitchen, and calls me Lay-chee because Thai people can't pronounce r's. We have become quite good friends seeing as how all the Muay Thai fighters eat at her restaurant/house every night.
7. Thai language is really difficult to learn for Westerners, but is actually quite a simple language. There are no past or future tenses, and instead of saying something like, "Where are you going?" they just say "Where go?" I'm learning more everyday, especially from my trainers, and today Egg taught me "Soi ching ching katoi tuan," which means something like "You're very pretty for a fighting ladyboy."
Ahh, Thailand, you had me at "Sawadii kaaaaaaa." (Hello.)
Maybe I'm just a weirdo, but that sort of stuff makes me squeamish. Here I am kissing my little Buddha and praying that everyone comes out unscathed, which kinda defeats the purpose of being at a Muay Thai fight at Tha Phae Stadium in Chaing Mai. What can I say? I'm a lover, not a fighter.
Two people from my gym fought last Monday: Mary from Canada and Joe from England. About fifteen of us piled into a mini van that could comfortably fit eight and drove down the treacherous "highway" through the mountains from Pai to the big city to cheer them on, farang style. Mary was the seventh fight of the evening against a giant Austrian girl with a killer right hook. She, however, had a stunning victory for her very first fight, and now I'm not so sure about Canadians being all that peaceful. Joe was the eighth and headliner for the evening, fighting one of the best Muay Thai fighters in Chaing Mai. He was ready, held his own, got some major kicks in, but lost to points to a guy who has been fighting since the age of six. Not really fair, is it?
All in all the evening was fantastic, except for the loss of my fingernails due to stress from watching my friends take a beating, even though they were dishing it out as well. I have realized recently that I have zero agression in me, I have no desire to punch anyone not wearing sparring pads, and I severely dislike getting punched. All that said, I'm in my third week of training and I absolutely love it. I feel fit, energetic, more confident, and I've developed quite a tolerance for small, annoying pains like knuckle bruises, which I now only have three of.
Life in Pai is fantastic, and I've got my little routine down well. I have moved from my bamboo hut and am now living true Thai style in the back of my shop. It's great, cheap, challenging, and I'm getting creative with what people might call "roughing it." I get up at seven a.m. every morning and go fill up my shower bucket, which is next to my sink bucket. The water is really cold, so once my bucket is filled I go put it out back in the sun for my shower later. Then I go about my morning and head off to a two to three hour training session, which I'm finally getting the hang of. The rest of the day is split between arduous tasks of reading my book (Moby Dick), napping, practicing my fire spinning, talking to nice people, occasionally going to the pool, playing with my dog, napping, etc.
Oh yes, I have a dog. Her name is Crystal, and technically she has me. She takes me out on walks all the time, and introduces me to everyone as they all know her and keep wondering who the new farang in town is. Which brings me to how much I love Thai people. They are hilarious, and they think I'm just about the strangest thing that has happened to them, so we get along well in comical disbelief.
Reasons I Love Thai People:
1. They are always smiling, laughing and singing.
2. The slight chill of the Pai evenings has everyone coming up from Chaing Mai for the weekends to parade around in their winter clothing, such as earmuffs and snow boarding goggles when it is literally 90 degrees (30 Celsius) every afternoon.
3. They take pictures of everything that is not beautiful scenery, such as post boxes, unimportant cafe signs, and me. Yesterday I saw a family of seven take a group picture in front of the cement Pai Bank sign, with the photographers back to the mountains. They also hugely enjoy taking multiple pictures of themselves in different lights, never forgetting the Stereotypical Asian Pride Pose of a peace sign in Every. Single. Picture.
4. Their respect. Bowing is such a huge part of daily life, and I love the intricasies of the proper bow. If someone is older than you then palms together at your heart as you bow your head is appropriate. Lower head bows for monks. If you're not sure about age and don't want to offend someone, a simple head bow will do. Farang are included on this should we choose to participate.
5. Muay Thai is the national sport, and kids can start learning at the age of six. It also wields great respect and has been something of a shock to me to get bows from people when I walk through the main street in my Thai boxing shorts at 7:30 every morning. To them a foreigner training in Muay Thai is pretty shocking, especially girls, and yesterday a policer officer gave me a slight bow, which was totally unexpected. I had to stop mid-stride for a low bow as a compliment to his, and we parted as new friends.
6. Thai food is the second best food in the world, the first being Mexican. My favorite person in Pai is a tiny lady named Na, who runs Na's Kitchen and is the best and cheapest restaurant in town. For a full meal of Pad Prie-Waan, which is a sweet and sour sauce with tofu, fresh veggies, pineapple, cashews, an egg and rice is less than an American dollar. I love this woman as she is always singing and skipping about her kitchen, and calls me Lay-chee because Thai people can't pronounce r's. We have become quite good friends seeing as how all the Muay Thai fighters eat at her restaurant/house every night.
7. Thai language is really difficult to learn for Westerners, but is actually quite a simple language. There are no past or future tenses, and instead of saying something like, "Where are you going?" they just say "Where go?" I'm learning more everyday, especially from my trainers, and today Egg taught me "Soi ching ching katoi tuan," which means something like "You're very pretty for a fighting ladyboy."
Ahh, Thailand, you had me at "Sawadii kaaaaaaa." (Hello.)
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