Until the next adventure

It hardly seems possible that I have been home from Asia a little over one week.  After forty straight hours of traveling, we arrived in Oklahoma City on Sunday, March 13th around 10 PM.  I had such mixed feelings as I walked through the airport I'd stood in six weeks earlier before my departure to India.  I was happy to be back, because I had missed my family and friends so much (and of course the dogs :), but I knew that coming home signaled the end of one of the most memorable and incredible adventures of my life.  We had an excellent welcome home from my incredible friends, and the excitement of Match Week for residency to keep us busy with parties all week and the ceremony on Thursday.  We are moving to Denver for my intern year!  I've always dreamed of living in the mountains.  As things have slowed down, I've had time to reflect on the adventure I had and the places and people across the world that I am aching for.  I am posting below what I wrote on our flight from Bangkok to Dubai, then Dubai to NYC on Saturday evening, March 12th, as we flew through the night and morning and traversed time zones high above oceans and land:
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I woke up Saturday morning and could hardly believed it had arrived: Our departure from Asia.  Six weeks had seemed like such a long period of time before I'd left home, but it had flown by so quickly.  I made a conscious effort, everyday, to appreciate each wonderful and novel moment and aspect of getting to work and travel in these wonderful countries.  The last day was no exception, and we made an early trip to Chatuchak Market, the largest market in Thailand, to take in the must-see attraction and to do some last minute souvenir shopping.  The subway stop for the market was next to Bangkok's gorgeous city park, and the green grass spread with trees, walking trails and interrupted by ponds made a nice contrast to the urban landscape.  The din from the market grew as we approached, and we were soon within its stalls and aisles which stretched in every direction as far as you could see.  The market covers thirty-five acres and has more than 5,000 stalls within its realm.  The individual stalls and stores were interconnected by narrow walkways and the entire arrangement was covered, trapping in the heat and creating a suffocating environment as the day wore on.  Some of the stalls were no bigger than a typically-sized American home bathroom, while others were larger.  The variety was endless.  You could buy anything imaginable, from a bird to a stun gun and everything in between.  I loved all of the hipster Thai clothing that seemed to be in every corner, but I controlled myself and bought a few gifts for family and some mementos for Landon and I.  Landon has a strong aversion to shopping, but was such a good sport.  He let me wander along for a good 1.5 hours, after which we met up to check out the best part of the market...the animals!  I was completely enamored with a litter of Golden Retriever puppies which Landon had found earlier and led me back to.  There were about seven soft, fluffy balls of puppy rolling around in an enclosed pen, and the shopkeeper let me pet each precious one.  I showed her a picture of Max on Landon's iPhone, and her smile showed me that she was a true dog lover like me.  Landon patiently followed me through a few more shops, after which we escaped the growing human traffic of the market for the air-conditioned subway back to Sukumvit where our hotel was.

With only a few hours left in Thailand, we decided to get the true 'Thai experience' and went for a Thai massage.  Kelsey had told us that anything less than two hours was a 'foreigner massage', and to get the true experience it had to be two hours in order for the masseuse to isolate each muscle.  Well, that's exactly what happened.  After going upstairs to a dimly-lit room with curtained beds, we donned cloth pajamas and began two hours of Thai massage that was simultaneously painful and luxuriously good.  The masseuse began with the tips of my toes and ended with the top of my head, in between stretching my body in impossible positions and popping every joint.  I was worried it might have been too extreme for Landon, but as we sipped hot tea afterwards he was quite relaxed and had really enjoyed it.  Landon and I had a tasty lunch of red curry in coconut milk with duck and chicken stir-fried with red peppers and Thai basil.  We finished it off with my favorite Thai dessert, mango sticky rice, then headed back to the hotel to meet up with the girls for quick showers before we caught a cab to the airport.

I looked out the cab window the whole way, trying to fix every detail in my mind before we got to the airport.  I have seen such a small part of this geographically and culturally vast continent, but it has captivated my heart and every sense for the past six weeks.  What really took me by surprise is how comfortable I felt, a testament to the good people I met in my travels.  I feel like I have covered a lot of ground, literally and figuratively.  I thought it would be interesting to break the literal part down into some concrete aspects:

Six weeks
Five Asian countries
Five types of currency-rupees, Singapore dollars, rupiah, ringgits and baht
Five Indian States-Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Uttar Pradesh, Andra Pradesh and Rajasthan
Sixteen separate flights to travel from Oklahoma City, to and through Asia, then back to Oklahoma City
One long Indian bus ride (after that hellacious 9 hour bus trip from Vellore to Pondicherry we took trains)
Six overland India trains
Four boat rides (a houseboat and a canal boat in Kerala, a boat to the Gili Islands, and a riverboat down the Mae Ping in Chiang Mai).
Two bike tours (one in Bali, one in Thailand...ok maybe three bike trips if you count our hilarious ride from the hotel to 7-Eleven in Chiang Mai).
One zipline tour through the jungle.
Countless rickshaw, tuk-tuk, taxi, teksi, taksi, subway, metro and city bus rides.
Miles of walking on city streets, inside hospitals and clinics, neighborhood streets, village roads, mountainsides, irrigation tunnels, beaches and bridges.

Though the physical distance I've traveled by various means and modes has been significant, I've covered greater distance personally and spirituality.  Seeing poverty in its most naked form has made me understand that malnutrition, neglect and lack of education are formidable and even greater epidemics than HIV.  Watching doctors make treatment decisions based on resources has made me understand treating every patient is a privilege that not all physicians have.  Meeting Hindus, Muslims and Christians that work together, live together and enjoy each others differences demonstrate, as Landon said, how religion should be, tolerant and non-judgmental.  I was so aware of God everywhere in India, and in the places I traveled to afterwards.  I think that this heightened awareness came from being in such a foreign place yet feeling his presence so strongly, be it in a temple, a church, beside the ocean or in the eyes of another person.  He is truly everywhere and in everything, I just have not always been looking.


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I realized today that I hadn't really finished writing in my blog.  I think I was actually ignoring the task, reluctant to do it, because that would truly mean that my adventure, my journey in Asia, was over.  I get so sad when I come home from traveling, feeling as if it will be endless days until I get to take off again to another unseen place.  I read this quote by Anthony Bourdain that succinctly explains how I feel:

"It seems that the more places I see and experience, the bigger I realize the world to be, the more of it I become aware of, the more I realize how relatively little I know of it, how many places I have still to go, how much more there is to learn.  Maybe that’s enlightenment enough, to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom, such as it is for me, means realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go."




I was struck by how much it captured my thoughts as of late, and how I had spoken almost these exact words (though with much less eloquence) to Landon as we were on our way home.  I consider myself so blessed to have traveled more than many people ever will, but with each trip I only kindle a greater fire within myself to see and do more.  With every new country and culture I love and embrace, I become acutely aware of the ones I have yet to discover. 

The India crew met for dinner this week at Gopuram, the most authentic Indian restaurant in OKC.  We all closed our eyes in reverence at the mix of spices and incredible flavor, savoring not only the familiar food but the memories we have of our time in India.  The owner of the restaurant, who happened to be from Chennai (the city just two hours from Vellore that we flew in and out of), came over to chat with us as it was late and we were the only patrons in the restaurant.  We chatted about the food, about our trip and about traveling in India, but what touched me most was the unspoken understanding between us of a country and people of such wonder that words cannot begin to describe.  As we left, he directed us to a writing on the wall beside the door.
"That is written by Mark Twain.  Though you can't put all that is India into words, he does a very excellent and beautiful job."

And so I will end my blog with Mr. Twain's quote, a man I admire not only for his incredible prowess as a writer, but even more so for his love of travel and the ability to put it in beautiful words that speak to me so deeply.
“This is indeed India; the land of dreams and romance, of fabulous wealth and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags, of palaces and hovels, of famine and pestilence, of genii and giants and Aladdin lamps, of tigers and elephants, the cobra and the jungle, the country of a thousand nations and a hundred tongues, of a thousand religions and two million gods, cradle of the human race, birthplace of human speech, mother of history, grandmother of legend, great-grandmother of tradition, whose yesterdays bear date with the mouldering antiquities of the rest of the nations—the one sole country under the sun that is endowed with an imperishable interest for alien prince and alien peasant, for lettered and ignorant, wise and fool, rich and poor, bond and free, the one land that all men desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse for the shows of all the rest of the globe combined.”—Mark Twain, Following the Equator, 1897.

Until the next adventure....

Sara 







 

Bangkok By Day, Dinner Party By Night

Our last full day in Asia we spent touring Bangkok and doing a bit of relaxing.  The morning started with a scrumptious Scottish breakfast.  Scottish breakfast in Thailand may seem strange to some, but it seemed fitting because the hotel's charming owner, Kevin, was Scottish, and the small hotel was a quirky and fun blend of Scottish and Thai flavors.

We then cabbed it to Wat Traimit in the Samphanthawong district of Chinatown.  Wat Traimit itself was simple in its beauty, a towering four-storey temple built in the typical style we had seen in the wats in Chiang Mai.  However, the real attraction was what resided inside Wat Traimit... Phra Phuttha Maha Suwan Patimakon!!!  Otherwise known by it's less tongue-twisting name, "The Golden Buddha", it is the world's largest solid gold statue.  Landon told me what he had read about the shiny deity's unusual journey to his revered status on the lofty top floor of the temple, and it was so interesting I have copied part of it below:

In the early 1930s, reconstruction works in the banks of the Chao Phraya river near Chinatown required the destruction of an old abandoned temple that housed a stucco-painted statue of Buddha.  Despite the fact that the statue was not so attractive, its destruction was not an option.  Thus it was decided to move it to Wat Traimit, a pagoda of minor relevance (like hundreds of other Buddhist temples that exist in Bangkok), keeping the statue in Chinatown. The temple didn't have a building big enough to house the statue, so it was kept for 20 years under a simple tin roof.  In 1955 a new building was built and the monks decided to install the statue inside it. A crane was supposed to move the statue carefully, but a cable broke and the statue fell in the mud, an event that was seen as a bad omen by the workers, who ran away from the place, leaving the statue on the soil. It was the rainy season and, as for confirming the bad omen, a terrible storm came and it lasted the whole night, flooding the whole city.  At the dawn of the next day, the abbot of the temple came to evaluate the damage and started removing the mud. He observed that the wet plaster was cracked and under it was a statue made of solid gold.  It is thought that the statue came from Ayutthaya and it was disguised under plaster to hide it from the Burmese, who were besieging the city. After being moved to Bangkok, its true composition was forgotten for almost 200 years.

Fascinating, yes?  I loved that story.  It is just an example of the old cliche that appearances can be deceiving.  Despite the impressiveness of the gold behemoth, the top floor of the temple had amazing views of Bangkok's surrounding Chinatown.  Our next stop was outside the pristine white walls that surrounded the sprawling complex of the Grand Palace and its temple, Wat Phra Kaew, regarded as the most sacred temple in Thailand.  As palaces go, this one was most unique due to its rich colors and characteristic adornments.  My favorite part of the massive temple complex was the intricate array of colored-mirror mosaics that covered the facade of every building.  Standing in front of the walls, I could see many tiny reflections of myself in blues, greens and reds that blended to make larger reflections if I stepped back.  It reminded me of the lovely collections of antique glass that my Grandma Earlene loved so much.  Touching the smooth surfaces of the mirrors brought me back to childhood days in her house in which she'd let me take them off the shelves to carefully hold them.  Grandma is on my mind and all around me here.  She would have loved to see all the intricate and fancy temples that are enormous versions of the art and glass pieces she loved to collect.  As I have come to learn, these temples are not only revered for their inherent beauty, but for the treasures they hold inside, be it statues of precious metals or a king's ashes.  In this case it was yet another the former, this time 'The Emerald Buddha', a small green relation of the golden counterpart across town.  His story of how he came to his honored position on the top of a tower of gold and jewels is eerily similar to the circumstances surrounding that of the Golden Buddha.  I won't repeat the similar story of it being discovered by chance after it was covered in stucco, but there are some fun legends that involved lightning, elephants and war-loving kings.  The Emerald Buddha, which in fact is actually solid jade...a small detail that was discovered after its naming and never rectified, us quite a fashionable deity because his golden attire is changed by the Thai king himself at the change of every season.  He was quite in the mode in his winter attire when I laid eyes on him along with the throngs of worshippers that repeatedly bowed on their knees at his altar.  Honestly my favorite part of the temple were the beautiful paint and gilded murals on the walls of the covered walkways on the courtyard's perimeter.  They depicted scenes from the Ramakian, the Thai national epic, and I tried to make sense of the monsters, wars and beautiful countryside the paintings depicted.

Heat and exhaustion drove us to lunch in an air-conditioned restaurant followed by pedicures and neck and shoulder massages at a massage parlor by our hotel.  After six straight weeks in my Chaco sandals tromping around Asia, my feet were in desperate need of pampering.  After quick showers we beat the crawling Bangkok traffic by taking the metro to the home of Steve and Carmen, long-time friends of Cristine's parents who have lived in Bangkok for the past ten years.  Steve is a pediatrician turned global health advocate who works for UNICEF in Bangkok, a Carmen is an ardent defender against child exploitation in Thailand through her work with ECPCA.  Their daughter, Kelsey, is a 25-year-old young woman who recently returned to her parents home in Thailand after working for an NGO for the past two years.  They all had incredie stories from their beginnings in international work to their current plans and activities.  I picked Steve's brain as much as I could about his advice regarding how to best plan my residency training and career to be able to work in healthcare and human welfare in a more global way.  After a month in India and several week-long mission trips at other times in my life, I've realized that making a significant, perpefuatung impact is done at a much earlier step than just prescribing medications or performing a surgery.  There's so much that can be changed in terms of human health and human rights through education and building up social infrastructure where one doesn't exist.  Steve had great ideas for  both Landon and I, as a future physician and as an engineer, to make the changes we want to see in the works.  It was really touching to hear Carmen explain the intricacies of her job and the barriers she faces in working against the sexual exploitation of Thai children with the police corruption that is everpresent in developing countries.  The ESCPA is a truly amazing organization that was the forerunner in specifically defining the rights of children and their status as individuals whilst separate from their parents who deserve free access to the justice system without having the danger of being marginalized or misrepresented.  She works with many international organizations, and Kelsey proudly joked that hers was the only mother that had Interpol on speed dial.  The funnier thing was that it was completely true.  We spent many hours yesterday evening sharing incredible home-cooked Thai food, travel stories and glasses of red wine.  Their hospitality was genuine and warm, and it was with true regret that we bade them goodnight and goodbye since we were headed home the next day.  I confessed to Carmen that my six weeks in Asia had flown by, and that I wished I could stay longer.  I don't think I'll ever feel like my traveling is completed, no matter how many places I go.  I guess that's the point of traveling though, to continually seek out the unknown, and that which is unknown within the known.                 

Night Bicycle Tour of Bangkok

Yesterday was mostly a travel day as we made our way from Chiang Mai to Bangkok.  However, Landon had arranged a wonderful evening activity to end our first day in Bangkok: The night bicycle tour!  I've done several bicycle tours in my life of interesting cities, but never one at night.  It got rave reviews on TripAdvisor, but I was midly skeptical of how much we'd be able to see by night.  It was incredible.  I feel like we got to see a hidden, quieter and more peaceful side of Bangkok from riding through its streets and alleys at night.

First things first, we arrived at Grasshopper Bicycle Tours to get fitted for our bikes and helmets, and have our bikes equipped with appropriate safety lighting.  We mounted our trusty bikes around 6:30 PM, and began the ride through alleyways teeming with shops, restaurants and the busy end of the Bangkok business day for small buisness owners.  Our tour guide, Wudee, was a forty-five year old Thai man in impeccable physical shape with a love for biking and the outdoors. Jules and he got quiet chummy during the ride, and we learned that he had lived thirty years in Chiang Mai prior to coming to Bangkok has a hotelier then running his own treks and white-water rafting.  Wudee pointed out several interesting sights like a famous Thai university on our way to the ferry dock, and I had to narrowly avoid crashing into things because I was turning my head at every angle to catch the rapidly evolving scenery around me.  We were on an urban adventure, up stairs, down stairs, through alleys, across bridges, in markets, sometimes walking the bike, sometimes carrying it, and pedaling furiously the other times.

We boarded a ferry boat to cross the Chao Phraya River, and had great views of the electric night horizon, all the sparking lights on Bangkok in all arrays of colors and brightness.  Wheeling our bikes off the ferry, we continued through the urban jungle and arrived at Wat Arun, or "Temple of the Dawn".  Wudee explained Wat Arun's important role in the early history of Bangkok.  After the fall of Ayuthaya, Thailand's ancient capital, the conquering Burmese king Taksin took control of Thailand and established the new capital at the site where Wat Arun stands.  The temple was named after the Indian god of dawn, Aruna, and also as a symbol of the beginning of a new era, the dawn of a new capital city.  The temple and its compound are absolutely breathtaking, especially at night.  There is an 82 meter prang (enormous Khmer-style tower) in its center, and numerous slightly smaller but equally beautiful towers radiating around the central prang.  The whole thing from a distance is astounding, but the detail up close is even more impressive.  There are endless ornate floral mosaics made from broken, multicolored Chinese porcelain that give the incredible work of bold and powerful architecture a delicate appearance.
We were given special entrance to the wat at night through the bicycle tour, and it was so unique to be allowed into it's sacred gates by night without the crush and bustle of all the other tourists.  Our small biking group of nine, plus the temple guards, were the only ones around, and we were free to wander for a long time to take pictures and admire the radiant glow of the temples in the clear and cool night. 

Our next stop was Wat Pho, and we cut through the "neighborhoods" of Bangkok to reach the beautiful temple.  Biking through more narrow alleys, we passed many people eating dinner, watching TV, conversating outside and waving to the group of bikers whizzing through their nightly routine.  We had to duck several times top pass under low-lying awnings, and the alleys were sometimes so narrowed and lined by people, animals and other hodgepodge that I had to brake often.  Wat Pho was as beautiful, if not more than Wat Arun.  We arrived at a perfect time to see the pure white crescent moon hanging between the peaks of the temple's monuments.  The compound hosted various chedis, or enormous mosaic-covered towers that housed the remains of several of the Chakri kings.  Porecelain-covered walkways move around the perimeter, blending into spacious temples with awnings and statues of dragons and other mythical creatures.  Wudee informed us that Wat Pho is also the national headquarters for the teaching and preservation of traditional Thai medicine, including Thai massage.  There is a very famous massage school located in the compound, and the students and teachers still follow the ancient stone inscriptions depicting massage techniques from early Bangkok history.  Once again, we enjoyed the peace and tranquility of Bangkok's most famous monuments at night, free from the massive crowds and oppressive humid heat.

The last stop before heading back were the night market and the flower market.  To get there, we biked along the river, stopping to watch the lights of the bridges change along their rainbow spectrum as large dinner cruise boats full of merriment and laughter passed below.  The night market wasn't much to see, mostly knock-off designer brands of every type of merchandise one can imagine, but the flower market was incredible!  It spanned both sides of the city street, with one side entirely devoted to flowers used for religious purposes. The religious side was mostly the traditional yellow margiolds used to make the wreaths and flowery strands that are seen adorning statues and alters in the temples and even in taxi cabs all around Thailand.  The other side had flowers in every color of the rainbow plus ones in between.  There were types of flowers I'd never seen before, and ones in colors I didn't know existed.  I had no idea that orchids came in so many vibrant shades.  The smell was intoxicating, and we wandered the stalls for a long time, gently touching soft petals and admiring their beauty before returning to our bikes by the river. 

Sweaty and exhausted we took a cab home from the city center and turned into bed.  We all felt as if we had seen a hidden part of Bangkok, a more calm and peaceful side that would surely dissolve into something equally wonderful in the daylight hours to come.

First Tastes of Thailand

We had breakfast on the Mae Ping River Monday morning, sipping coffee and fresh juice and enjoying the peaceful morning.  We decided to hire a driver to see the sights of Chiang Mai, and we were delighted with the mode of transportation he arrived in: A red car!  The 'red car' is the Northern Thailand version of a taxi, and consists of a pick-up truck with a camper in the truck bed and padded benches on its side.  It made for a fantastic ride as we weaved in and out of morning traffic, picking up and dropping off locals on the way.

Our first stop was the Bhuping Palace in the mountains west of Chiang Mai.  It was quite a distance above the city, and we had wonderful views of Chiang Mai nestled in the valley below as we continued upwards.  Built in 1962, the Bhuping Palace serves as the winter home of Thailand's royal family.  The palace itself was elegant but simple, with the most elaborate part of it all being the well-manicured and exotic gardens.  There wasn't a spot that didn't hold the vibrant colors of nature, and we walked along paths lined by brillant red flowers and shaded by towering trees.  The water reservoir that served as the source for the needs of the palace and gardens was also lovely, with several intricate spinning fountains in the middle.

Our next stop was a short distance away, a hill village we deemed a tourist trap and scampered out of after snapping a few pics.  Unfortunately that is the way with many of the hill villages that tourists are taken to, expecting to see living culture but instead confronted with knock-off designer sunglasses and factory-manufactured 'handicrafts'.  Luckily our next stop a few miles down the mountain was better, and we were all impressed by Wat Prathat Doi Suithep, a Buddhist temple considered to be one of Thailand's most important religious sites.  The 309 steps to the top are guarded by the brilliant twin green dragons whose scaley bodies stretched from their heads at the foot of the stairs to their tails at the summit.  The climb to the top was no joke, and we all stopped several times to admire the views of Chiang Mai behind us.  Once inside the temple gates, we paid 10 baht for the obligatory cloth covering to make us appropriate for the temple, and we removed our shoes entered into the main courtyard.  The temple is said to have been founded in 1383 when the first chedi, the center towering monument, was built.  Over time the temple has expanded, and been made to look more extravagant with many more holy shrines added around the chedi.  The original copper plated chedi is the most holy area of the temple grounds, and many worshippers knelt around it, praying and lighting candles.  Within the site are pagodas, small rooms filled to the brim with golden statues, paintings, jewels and other fanciful treasures.  We sat in one of them during a ceremony in which one of the Buddhist monks blessed the people kneeling below him with water he sprinkled from reeds he held in his hand.  At one point Landon got chastised for not kneeling properly, so we decided we'd had enough and walled the rest of the courtyard before getting popsicles and heading back to the red truck.

Our lovely chariot had pictures of baby tigers posted all over it, so we asked our driver to take us to the Tiger Palace in Mae Rim, about a half-hour drive away.  I will admit it was yet another tourist trap, but one I was glad to be caught in because I got to pet and cuddle Mimi and Euro, two adorable three-month old tigers.  The trainer told us they sleep eighteen hours a day, and Euro was definitely in the act and hardly moved when we petted him.  Mimi, on the other hand, was quite rambunctious as she stalked the cage, keeping her trainers busy as she frolicked around.  Her eyes were a bluish-purple hue, and though she was precious, I knew her tiny mouth held some vicious teeth that would do damage if she decided my arm was a snack.  The Indo-Chinese tiger is really quite beautiful, lighter in orange color than the Bengal but with a similar patterns of black stripes.  

After late lunch at the Tiger Palace, we made our way to the last stop on our tourism trail, Wat Phra Singh, located in the western part of the old city centre of Chiang Mai.  Construction on Wat Phra Singh began in 1345 when King Phayu, the fifth king of the Mangrai dynasty, had a chedi built to house the ashes of his father King Kham Fu.  The temple evolved to include several more structures within the beautiful compound, but the entire thing fell into disrepair during the Burmese rule of the area from the late 1500's to late 1700's.  It was only when King Kawila assumed the throne as King of Chiang Mai in 1782, that the temple was restored.  The whole temple complex underwent extensive renovations under the famous monk Khru Ba Srivichai during the 1920s. Many of the buildings were again restored in 2002, and the result is a pristine but busy center of education and training for young men to become Buddhist monks.  Though it was much simpler, I actually preferred it to the ornate Wat Prathat Doi Suithep we'd seen earlier.  It seemed lively and a functioning temple, with all the boys, young men and monks bustling around in their traditional orange garb.  I loved the gardens, which had many signs tacked up with pearls of wisdom like "Ignorance is the real evil."

That evening the girls and I made like locals and borrowed bikes from the hotels to pick up some food and drinks. We all giggled hysterically as I pedaled a bike made for someone half my height and we narrowly avoided all modes off traffic that sped by us.  The bridge across the river gave us a gorgeous view down the Mae Ping, one that distracted Cristine a bit until she realized her bike didn't have handbrakes so she had to make a graceful stop using her Chaco's.  We enjoyed a night in, sitting by the river at our guest house, listening to music, talking and sipping the elegant Sprite, Pomegranate and Orange Fanta martinis that Landon concocted.

We awoke Tuesday morning to the excitement that awaited us: A ziplining tour in the Thai jungle with Flight of the Gibbon!!!  After breakfast by the river, the staff picked us up in a van filled with other traveler that would also be spending the day on the tour.  There were three British hipsters, an Australian couple that ran an English school for poor children in Phuket and the four Oklahomans.  The van drove us one hour outside Chiang Mai to the small village of Mae Kompong, our launching point for the excursion.  We were expertly fitted with body harnesses, helmets then signed the security waiver and headed into the jungle.  The 1500 year old rainforest was breathtaking, and getting to swing and jump around in its lofty heights was fantastic as we rode the two kilometers of zip lines and crossed sky bridges in the rainforest canopy.  I'd been ziplining twice before, but this was the longest course and most exhilirating one I've done.  The variety between the ziplines was great, riding some like Superman, landing in nets, and being lowered hundreds of feet to the forest floor.  The hours of ziplining were followed by a traditional Thai lunch back at the village, then a hike up to beautiful Kompong Falls.  I enjoyed getting to know Tina, a woman about my mother's age, and the teacher at the English school in Phuket.  Her passion for the children she teaches is inspiring.  Her goal is to empower them with English so they are able to get a job in Thailand's busy tourism industry and avoid a life in the streets.  She gave Landon and I her card for the "Phuket Has Been Good To Us" Foundation, and told us to come teach whenever we can.  Sign me up!  

Returning back to Chiang Mai we took a boat from the bank by our hotel to town and had a fabulous dinner of traditional Thai food at the river's edge.  The setting sun danced on the river, and the ornate hanging lanterns illluminated the quiet early evening.  We explored the night market a bit after a dessert of taro in coconut milk, and slept well that night after all the activity of our busy day.

I woke up on Wednesday with so much anticipation it was almost unbearable.  We were going to the Elephant Reserve!!!  Before coming to Thailand, Landon and I looked up several treks that including elephant riding.  We were shocked and saddened when we found out the terrible working conditions and treatment of the beautiful elephants, and their exploitation in Thailand's tourism industry.  Our concern led us to an organization called The Elephant Nature Park.  Founded in 1990, the park serves as a safe haven, rescue and rehabilitation center for abused elephants in Thailand.  The self-funded park seeks out and buys abused elephants from trekking companies, logging camps, breeding farms and street begging operations, and brings them to the park to heal and live a more peaceful life.  I was already in love with the mission before I had even set eyes on the beautiful elephants, but as we pulled up to the peaceful park and got my first glimpse of them I was speechless.  Located 60 kilometers from Chiang Mai, the park is cradled in a beautiful forested valley and bordered my a river on one side.  There is a large complex of wooden buildings interconnected by decks and bridges that serves as the home base for the staff and volunteers of the park.  The staff works tirelessly for the elephants.  They prepare the hundreds of pounds of fruits and vegetables the elephants eat each day, they educate tourists and volunteers, they bathe the elephants, provide medical care and are occupied all day with the routine care of these amazing animals.  At the park, each elephant has a mahout, or trainer.  Rather than teach the elephants tricks like a regular trainer might, the mahouts are the beloved friend of their elephant, responsible for their well-being on a daily basis.  We got to act a little bit like mahouts, feeding the elephants and bathing them in the river.  I was amazed by the incredible amount of food they eat.  I was delighted when they would take huge chunks of watermelon and while cucumbers from my hands with their strong and agile trunks, expertly bringing it to their enormous mouths to crunch in several bites.  They put down several hundred pounds of food each day, and I could see why when my heaping laundry basket of fresh produce was gone in five minutes flat.  Throughout the day I learned the stories of many of the elephants, the majority of them terribly sad.  There was Jokia, a blind elephant rescued from logging camps.  Her owner had purposely blinded her as punishment when she refused to go back to work after the death of her baby.  There was Lilly, a young female whose owner had purposefully addicted her to methamphetamine to coerce her to work.  She had come to the park on death's door.  My heart hurt the most for sweet Mae Do, an older female with a broken back from continually being put into restraints to be forcefully bred on at one of the cruel commercial breeding operations.  Her back was deeply swayed and her body controrted in impossible and painful ways when she walked, and I had tears in my eyes when she gently would take food from my hands.  I just don't understand animal cruelty.  I don't.  Looking at the scars and bony deformities on the backs of the elephants rescued from trekking and elephant riding companies, it made me realize the responsibility I have to be an informed, conscious tourist and just in general life decisions.  We watched a really great documentary about the efforts of people in Thailand promoting better treatment of elephants through petitioning against using elephants for street begging, trying to end the horrific native process used in the villages to tame elephants and educating the people of Thailand about the shrinking populating of these incredile animals.  In the past few decades, the number of elephants in Thailand has dropped from 100,000 to 5,000 and continues to decrease.  

The best part of the day was bathing the elephants in the river.  They get bathed twice a day and you can tell they love every second they spend in the cool river.  We splashed water all over them with big buckets, and their ears flapped with contentment as they showed their agreement by splashing water on themselves with their trunk.  The whole day was so wonderful and peaceful it was somewhat surreal, and it was with reluctance that we got back in the van to head back to Chiang Mai.

That evening we asked Te, the kind and smiling owner of our guest house, to recommend an authentic Thai restaurant with really spicy food.  We were tired of getting the tourist version of Thai food, which lacks the characteristic fire of Thai food that we craved.  Well, we got what we asked for.  There wasn't a tourist in site at the restaurant our hotel driver dropped us off at, and we all had watering eyes and noses and burning lips as we chowed down on Tom Yum soup, red curry chicken, spicy salad and lots of crisp vegetables.  We finally got the taste of Thailand we had been looking for, and the result left us hastily scooping coconut ice cream in our mouths at the end of the meal to cool the fire.  We hoped we'd built up a little tolerance for the spicy food we'd be sure to eat in Bangkok the next day!         

Missing My Sweet Grammy Earlene

The reason I haven't blogged the past few days is because I've just been to sad to sit down and write.  My darling Grandma Earlene died early Wednesday morning after a painful battle with lung cancer.  She had come to live with my parents in Edmond after her diagnosis in October, and because Labdon and I had just sold our house in preparation for a residency move, we had the blessing of being my Grammy's 'roomies' for the past few months.  We had so much fun with her and spent many happy hours talking, reminiscing, playing with dogs and loving the sweetest moments with each other.  Her short term menory had been quite affected by vascular dementia, but her long-term memory waa seamless and stories from her past flowed from her like a river.  She gradually got sicker over the past few months, and I worried to my mom that I shouldn't go to Asia because of it.  My mom looked at me as if I was insane and told me I was utterly crazy, and that I know my Gram well enough that I knew she wanted so badly for me to do my rotation in India and travel.  She had been quite the traveler in her younger years just like me, and loved the thrill of setting off for a new place with new people to meet.  I knew my mom was right, but it was still so hard for me to go, and to be in India, getting updates by phone on her health and happiness, both of which varied by the hour.  She lived her life with joy and so much enjoyment of the most special things until just a few days before her death, planting flowers with my mom and a lake trip with my parents and Landon to Arkansas, to see my other grandma who was her dear friend from their days in Kansas, raising my parents who were sandbox buddies before they fell in love as adults.

I had been talking to my mom a lot as Grammy Earlene got sicker, and my mom had a feeling on Tuesday night that Grammy would probably leave us very soon.  When Landon hugged me so hard when we got back to our hotel after the ziplining tour, I knew even before he spoke that my sweet Grammy had left for heaven already.  I wanted to go home immeadiately to be with my family, but my mom reminded me that wasn't the plan, that I was doing exactly what Grammy wanted me to do, living life.

So I've been finishing the final days of the trip I planned, seeing the beauty of the amazing wonders I told Grammy about before I left.  Though she couldn't remember exactly where or why I was going, her excitement matched mine.  She lived for her family, and if her first grandchild was going on an adventure, she'd be right there with me.

Her service will be on Sarurday in her hometown of Saffordville, Kansas, just miles from the farmhouse I grew up visiting and loving her in, making soany memories.  My flight gets home just more than 24 hours after the service, so I will be there through something I wrote to remember just a small part of the incredible, loving person that was my Grandma Earlene.

This is what I wrote for her:

My Grammy Earlene was an incredible woman.  She was one of the strongest women I've ever met.  Raising three girls on her own required a kind of courage that in today's time is remarkable, but for a woman in the 1960's was truly incredible.  As a little girl staying out at the farm, I marveled at her fearlessness in living all by herself out in the country.  Sleeping upstairs in her house, I would be scared of the shadows the tall trees outside the windows would make, their branches looking like monster's claws in the glow of the big streetlight in the backyard.  I'd crawl into bed with her and immeadiately fall asleep under her protection.  She was a successful but compassionate businesswoman, her efficiency and skill in running the nursing home matched only by the love and kindness she showed to all her patients.  She knew each of their stories by heart, and I loved watching their faces light up when she'd talk with them about a special memory from their past.  It seemed like everywhere we'd go in Chase County, somebody would know my Grammy and have a reason to come up and thank her, tell her a story or give her a hug.  She was an honorable, highly-respected woman that taught me at an early age about integrity and the satisfaction of doing your job proudly and well.  Grammy lost so many people that she loved early on in her life, but she shared her love so freely and openly with all of us.  She was a survivor which can make people hardened to love from suffering so much loss, but her love as my grandmother was unhindered and unconditional.  

My Grammy was also one of the most fun people I've ever known.  We have had so many good times together in which we couldn't do anything but laugh.  Some of my best memories are the times I spent alone with her in the summers at her house.  I'd go into work with her, usually with Jenny, and we'd go talk to the people in the nursing home.  We'd periodically stop by Gram's office to check in with her, and she'd always have a suggestion on who we should talk to next, who seemed lonely and could use a walk in the garden.  After work we'd go out to eat, get ice cream, watch a movie, or I'd practice driving her blue Cadillac on the back-country roads by her house.  Though I was an underage, terrible driver, she sat relaxed in the passenger seat, giving encouraging smiles and tips.  I loved to play the piano and sing with her at the nursing home, at her house and at my mom's house most recently. She could still remember the notes well and we loved to sing together, especially hymns and popular songs from her younger years.  Of course music brings to my mind one of her other favorite things: dancing.  We'd put on CD's and dance on the wooden floors of her living room for hours.  I loved watching her dance with Ben and Brian at my wedding, and most recently she'd laugh at my goofy dancing to her favorite records at Mom's house when I'd try to make her laugh.  Even a few weeks ago I'd pull her up to sway with me and she loved it.  We both shared the love of travel, and it was fun to talk about our favorite trips together and hear her experience of seeing the volcanoes in Hawaii after Landon and I went there for our honeymoon.  She loved to shop and took me so many times for school and just for fun.  Her eye for beautiful things was endearing to me, and I still love to touch all of her lovely jewelry, fancy hats and glassware that she had collected for so many years.  Her closets upstairs held so many treasures that she always let us rifle through.  Playing dress-up at Grammy's house was the best, and nothing made me happier than seeing her smile as Jenny, Hannah and I came prancing down the stairs in fancy dresses from her past.  She let her grandchildren set up roller-skating rinks in the basement, dabble in her nicest make-up and perfumes and took us for long walks to Taddy-Pole Crick.  She loved the outdoors and shared that love so strongly with us, and I have fallen in love with the beautiful Flint Hills that she adored so much.  Some of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen were with Grandma, standing facing west at the edge of the pastures by her house.

The health problems that burdened Grandma in the last few years of her life brought her to see me more often and gave me opportunities to return just a small bit of the infinite love and care she had given me as a child.  I am thankful for the times I got to take her to her cardiologist.  We'd hop in my car, blasting Frank Sinatra the whole way there, dancing in our seats.  She'd flirt in her gracious manner with every member of the office staff, both male and female, and charm everyone in the office.  She'd often tell Dr. Prasad that her granddaughter was going to be a doctor like him, and her pride was so touching to me.  Grammy always made it evident how proud she was of me and her other amazing children and grandchildren in the way she attended every school program, ball game and graduation of ours.  After her appointment we'd usually go to Kaiser's, a restored soda fountain in downtown OKC that had a live piano player on most days.  We'd eat humongous milk shakes together and people watch.  Grandma knew so well the pure goodness of talking and relating to another person, and she'd often wander over to chat with the people at the next table, especially if they had little children.  Almost as much as people, my Grammy loved animals.  She passed onto us her love of all things great and small, from the beautiful monarch butterfly she preserved in her glass china cabinet to the multitude of cats that ruled the roost at her home over the years.  I think that people who truly love and appreciate animals are unique and gentle spirits, and my Grammy was tireless in the way she cared for so many of them.  I treasured the way she treated my dogs, Max and Lucy, giving them the most tender caresses and words at all times of the day.  She could watch them wrestle each other for hours, and I knew when she scolded them it was just for show.  Her mischevious streak we all knew so well loved watching those two roughouse.  She also welcomed Landon like he was born her grandson, and in the way she loved him, he was.  Her face was beaming when she saw me wearing her wedding pearls on my wedding day, and her presence with me on that day, like every other special day of my life, was a blessing and a memory I will always treasure.

When I left for my rotation in India, I knew it might be the last time I'd ever hug my sweet Grammy.  We'd gone to breakfast as a family that morning, and afterwards we stood in the sunshine together and I told her goodbye and hugged her as tightly as I could.  I told her that she was the best grandma in the entire world, and that I loved her so, so very much.  She asked where I was going, and Mom told her that her grandaughter was adventurous just like her and was going on a trip.
"How wonderful!" She said brightly, and she hugged me so close and so tight it felt like she knew it might be our last hug too.  I am now missing her like crazy, hardly believing this world can go on without my Grammy.  My mind and soul are full of memories of her, the sound of her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes, and the way her hands would rub mine or stroke my hair when we would sit together.  I wish that I could be home with everyone right now to give hugs and words of comfort, but I know Grammy is glad I took this trip, and she is on one too.  I only wish we could share our stories about it like we always did, but I know she is happy and enjoying it beyond our human understanding, loving us in her special and perfect way like she always did.  Landon said something the other day that made me realize that Grammy was at peace and ready to say goodbye to her beloved family.  He reminded me about how lately she had kept saying,
"Well, I guess it's time for me to go home.", with an excited, joyful tone in her voice.  Landon said she was likely talking about an entirely different home than we thought, and that is such a beautiful way to describe my Grammy feeling ready to leave this world and head back to the arms of her precious Lord.

Dolly Earlene Grace Cleeton Lind, my Grammy, I miss you and love you so much.  Your life will always be remembered by your family that loves you so incredibly much.  Welcome home.

I decided to keep blogging because she would want me to keep recording this adventure I'm on.  I feel her so strongly with me here that I find myself whispering something to her often, knowing that she'd love a certain sunset or a stray cat on the corner.  I miss her so much and it feels like the pain will never be healed, but my memories of her are a calming, reassuring presence and I know now that she is free, eternally joyful and on her own adventure.   

A day in Kuala Lumpur and Our Arrival in Thailand

We had a fabulous evening in Kuala Lumpur.  We dined on the bamboo patio at  the very hip Bijan, enjoying cold Tiger beer and typical Malaysian cuisine like mango leaf salad, chicken curry and fresh fish.  The spice was excellent and just enough when combined with the other exotic flavors.  After dinner we walked the city for several hours, passing by busy Times Square and thousands of people out enjoying the evening, as many as if it was the middle of the day.  Kuala Lumpur has the dressings of a typical booming modern city, but also with a funky Southeast-Asian flair that is all its own.  Curtains of electric blue light strands hung from the many towering trees in the city, draping in places over the above-ground metro that was a silver snake slithering past massive electronic billboards and skyscrapers of all shapes and brightly lit colors.  There were several remarkable buildings ablaze against the skyline, but the most impressive by far was the Petronas towers.

Completed in 1998, the twin towers stand 1, 483 feet tall.  They were considered the tallest structure in the world until 2004 when their incredible height was surpassed by Taipei 101, but they still remain the tallest twin buildings in the world.  They are built on the deepest foundations of any building in the world, an astounding 120 meters.  Eighty-eight stories tall, the towers are connected by the highest two-storey skybridge in the world on floors forty-one and forty-two, 558 feet above the ground and 190 feet long.  I was surprised to learn that the bridge itself is not attached to the main structure, but designed to slide in and out of the towers to prevent it from breaking during high winds.  The bridge was also the setting of the climax of 'Entrapment' when Catherine Zeta-Jones scaled across it.  Even though the numbers and measures above used to describe its proportions are incredible, they are no comparison to the splendor of setting one's own eyes upon it.  We saw the tips of the sparkling white towers peeking above the skyline numerous times as we walked toward them, but it wasn't until we were directly at their base that you could truly appreciate their fantastic construction and beauty.  The circular, rounded part of the tower reminded me of a stack of intricately-painted bangle bracelets, the windows and metals of the towers reflecting like blue precious stones and gold.  The rounded part then joined with the alternating square and triangular shapes that ran from the ground to the lofty spire at the top.  It was a modern creation of contrasting geometric mastery that flowed together in impossible beauty.  The entire thing was luminescent, radiating a pure white light that made the twin giants appear ethereal against the night sky.  We all laid on the concrete for a long time gazing up at the Petronas tours, listening to Landon marvel at the engineering it must have taken to build them and then just laying their in captivated silence.  Seeing the towers was the finale of the night, and we caught a cab back to the guest house and went to bed.

The morning we woke to was bright and sunny, and we made toast and coffee in the guest house kitchen and packed up our bags.  We took a cab to the central train station where we stored our bags and hopped on a train that would carry us to the Batu Caves.  Julie was especially excited and visiting the caves was her idea after she met someone during interview season who had been to them and highly recommended seeing them while in Kuala Lumpur.  They were only a thirty minute ride from the city centre, and even from the train windows the height of the cliffs into which the caves were carved were impressive.  The Batu Caves are a holy place for Hindus, and the world's largest statue of Lord Murugan, standing 140 feet tall, guards the bottom of the flight of steps that lead up to the cave entrance.  Along the way to the steps stands another statue of impressive height, a 50 foot statue of Hanuman, the noble monkey and helper of the god Rama.  His pastel green figure I had often seen in Indian temples.  He greeted me like an old friend as we stepped off the train and immeadiately began sweating in the blazing sun.  The golden statue of Murugan was indeed impressive, as were the 272 steps that led up to the entrance of the cave at the top of the cliffs.  We started up them, stopping intermittently to take photos of Kuala Lumpur below us and to catch our breath.  The view of the city when we reached the top was stunning, and we stood a moment to gaze upon the urban landscape before going into the cave entrance.  The caves were enormous, and several separate caverns connected to form a tunnel several stories wide with stalagtites pointing their gnarled fingers into its vast interior.  There were altars and temples in everywhere inside the cave, smiling Ganeshas and Vishnus peering out from every recess and cranny, recreiving offerings and prayers made by the worshipers who knelt before them.  The light from the flames burning outside one temple cast a warm glow over the cool interior of the cave as we climbed yet more steps to reach the main temple which was guarded by hordes of monkeys.  As monkeys go, these were the cute but mischevious ones who like to steal your stuff, and we watched in fascination as one grabbed a bottle of juice from another tourist and scurried up the rock, stopping to unscrew it then tilt it back for a drink.  

Descending the same 272 steps we reached the bottom and got back on the train to head back to the centre station.  Julie and Cristine were taking a later flight to Bangkok, so we hugged them goodbye and took the KLIA Express train to the airport.  We had wonderful views of the city and its surroundings of dense tropical forests as the train sped to the airport.  After arriving in Bangkok, Landon and I had some time to kill in the airport before our flight to Chiang Mai, so we sat in Starbucks awhile to sit and read.  I couldn't help but think of sitting in a Starbucks with him two months ago back in the U. S., planning the very trip we are on now.  We had our first Thailand meal at the airport, which was actually quite excellent and spicy.  I am hoping to up my threshold for Thai chili and spiciness while I'm here!  We met up with a sweaty Jules and Cristine who had ran all the way from immigration after their flight was delayed.  Back together again we boarded the Bangkok Airways flight to Chiang Mai and touched down around 10 PM.  Landon had arranged an airport pick-up by our hotel, the San Pee Seua, and we were warmly greeted and transported to our hotel in a beat-up pickup truck by our welcoming and grinning driver.  The hotel is incredible!  Located on the outskirts of Chiang Mai along the Maeping River, it has beautiful gardens and a green lawn that slopes to the river.  We stood on the wood floor of the open back porch, gazing out past the colorful hanging lanterns of the trees that swayed in the breeze coming off the river right below.  Our accomadations are a gorgeous two-bedroom apartment with beautiful wooden floors and ornate dark-wood furniture.  There's a balcony overlooking the river, and I know the view from it in the morning will be lovely.  So excited to be in Thailand for the next six days!           

Crazy Kuta, Back Together in Singapore, and the Road to Kuala Lumpur

We spent our last hours in Indonesia in Kuta, the beating heart of Bali's lively tourism industry.  We picked up a few gifts for family and friends, and had lunch at an Indian restaurant.  I honestly wasn't expecting it to be very good or authentic, but as I savored the first bite of naan and mixed vegetable curry, nostalgia washed over me and I felt an ache for the wonderful country I'd left last week.  The food was delicious, and I vowed once again to learn to cook Indian food well when I return.

We spent the rest of the day walking along the populated beach, enjoying the refreshing breeze that swept across the water.  There was much preparation along the beach walk for the evening's celebration of the Hindu new year, and the whole crowd had an anticipatory excitement about it.  Landon and I visited the memorial to the victims of the Kuta bombing at the Sari Club.  Seeing their individual names and nationalities, etched into the stone, made the horror and sadness of the senseless act very real.  The site was in the absolute center of the blocks of bars, nightclubs and major tourism strike.  I had wondered why they chose to target a place so certainly occupied by foreign tourists, but it's clearly apparent why. They not only aimed to take innocent lives, but to destroy the spirit of joy that makes Bali such a desired place to visit for people from all nations and walks of life.

Landon I walked the streets of Kuta for several hours, taking in the frenzy of activity that was in preparation for the parade of ogoh-ogoh's to chase away the bad spirits and welcome in the good for the Balinese/Hindu New Year that began the next day.  We had seen a lot of these fierce and fantastical ogoh-ogoh's being constructed throughout the week, and we now saw them in action.  When carried on bamboo-rod platforms by groups of twenty young boys and men, these constructions of all faces, shapes and colors stood at least twenty feet high and were quite fearsome.  We watched parades of many-headed demons, fierce warriors carrying swords that were ready to impale vicious monsters and also creatures that have no definition in terms of species or form.  We sat on the edge of fountain in the main park of Tuban for some time by the pre-parade ogoh-ogoh staging area.  We watched families gather together in the merriment of the day, greatly enjoying the Indonesian people celebrate such a lively and entertaining part of their culture.  After getting some ice cream, it was time to head to the airport.  Thankfully we made it there before all the roads were closed due to the parade and in preparation for the upcoming Nyepi Day, or the Day of Silence.  The next day the entire island of Bali would be on complete lockdown.  The people of Bali would spend the day in quiet reflection, not-speaking, fasting and not engaging in any sort of activity, really.  I was sad to leave Bali, but glad that we wouldn't suffer the fate of the tourists left in Bali on Nyepi.  They had to remain in their hotels and couldn't leave the grounds.  Because the hotel staff was also observing the day of silence, there was only a skeleton crew to deliver limited food and service to the guests.  When I talked to a Norweigan couple who had visited Bali seven times and twice during the Balinese New Year, they said that the hotels even turned off the pool pumps so people who wanted to swim had to do so in filthy water.  It seems a little extreme, but Landon pointed out what a meaningful day it must be if you were Balinese and I had to agree in the beautiful simplicty of it all and the peace that spending a day in silence in the company of your loved ones would bring.

We arrived in Singapore around midnight, and went straight out to a nightclub to meet up with Julie and Cristine!  As soon as we set eyes on each other we rushed forward and hugged each other in tight embrances.  It was good to be back with my traveling crew, sadly minus Michael but happily plus one Landon Grace.  The girls were out with Julie's college friend Elise, who had recently moved to Singapore for her husband's job along with their 14-month-old little girl.  I could tell that living in a foreign city with a young child was difficult, but Elise was so sweet and charming and I told her I knew she'd find her niche in time.  Their posting is for two years after which they'll likely return to Dallas.  We ended the night at a bar in Clarke Quay, telling our stories from our week apart over overpriced beers.  The girls had had such fun in Rajasthan, and I laughed at their stories of a camel they named "Zenk" due his unfortunate possession of a Zenker's diverticulum (or so they thought), their dancing with the locals at a traditional Rajasthani restaurant and their beautiful camel ride through the sand dunes in the Thar desert.  We all lamented leaving India, going back over our beautiful time there, a trend that will continue even after we get back to the United States.  They had quite the adventures in Bali as well, and I admired their bravery at renting a moped in Ubud!  I was so happy to be back with them, knowing our foursome was going to have fabulous adventures together in the week ahead.

We dragged ourselves out of bed at 9 AM after only going to bed around 5:30 AM, and headed to catch our bus to Kuala Lumpur.  Now, after our experiences on the lovely India buses, I wasn't expecting much out of the "luxury bus" that Landon had booked.  Man was I pleasantly surprised!  Our five-hour journey to Kuala Lumpur was in an air-conditioned and clean charter bus supplied with personal TV's, Wi-Fi, a delicious Malaysian meal and seats that reclined.  Fantastic!  I watched "Marley and Me" when I wasn't gazing out the window at the gorgeous scenary of the Malay Peninsula as we traveled north from Singapore.  The geography was quite different than Singapore.  As the blue of the water receeded from view, the landscape was overtaken by what I can best describe as a true jungle.  Palm tree forests grew rampantly and wildly in every direction, and the hills rolled along with our rapidly moving bus.  Arriving in Kuala Lumpur I was shocked by the sprawling, modern city, resplendant with green gardens, fountains and gleaming skyscrapers.  Though it began to pour rain immeadiately upon disembarking the bus, we could still see much of the skyline and excitedly pointed out the imposing and majestic outline of the Petronas Towers whose twin figures we were famliar with from pop-culture (the movie "Entrapment", a highly entertaining flick with Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones.  Watch it, you'll love it.)  Landon arranged for us to stay at the Sahabat Guesthouse, a charming blue-painted villa near the city centre.  It is clean and quaint, with white-washed walls, quirky art decorations and each room is named after a spice.  Cristine and Julie are in Lemongrass, and Landon and I are in Lime.  How lovely.  Tonight we plan to experience some of the incredible Malaysian cuisine of Kuala Lumpur and then enjoy the nightlife of this thriving city.  Tomorrow we go to the Batu Caves and its famous temples, and after a day of exploration head to the airport to catch our flight to Thailand.

Enjoying every moment, always thinking and missing my loved ones back home, and grateful for the ones here with me.

The Gili Islands and Then Onto Our Next Journey

Spending our last full day in Indonesia on the Gili islands was a beautiful end to a wonderful time in this incredible country.  We went into town around 9 AM to try on our snorkel gear, and then walked a few feet from the snorkel shop to climb into the boat that would take us to the Gilis.  It was a boat typical to the kind we have seen so frequently in Indonesia.  Essentially it's a giant canoe, but the sides are straight rather than curved.  There is a roof covering part of it, an outboard motor in the back and two long skids that run almost the entire length of the boat.  The skids are wide, wooden poles that are attached to the bout first by a short pole that juts out perpindicular to the boat, then parallel to the boat so that the skids rest in the water.  At first I wondered at this creation that makes the boats look like giant grasshoppers or something of the sort, but as I rode in one yesterday, I realize it's definitely for stability!  I think the thin boat would certainly capsize otherwise.

The ride to the Gili islands was about an hour, and during that time we both had our eyes trained on Lombok as our view from the water gave us unlimited views of its natural beauty in totality.  We could see to the very top of the cloud-covered mountains, the lush green valleys, and then to the gentle turquoise waters that were carved in places by jagged cliffs and ornate rock formations.  I almost fell out of the boat trying to capture Lombok's wild beauty with my camera, but no photo will ever do it justice.  As we moved further from Lombok and closer to the Gili Islands, their size and contour became more apparent.  Gili Trawangan, the largest one, has the most topopgraphical variety, with a small hill in its center that gently slopes down to meet the water.  Gili Meno and Gili Air, the two smaller ones, almost identical in size, are flatter but also covered in thick trees and vegetation.  As we neared them, I realized how close together they actually were.  Even a mildly-determined swimmer could swim from one to the other, barring strong currents and tides.  As we slowly motored into Gili Trawangan, I marveled at the incredible clarity of the water.  From my perch on the boat, I could see far below into the coral reefs and the schools of fish surrounding them.  I couldn't wait to snorkel, and Landon kindly let me have the first turn when we were dropped off on the beach and he waited with our stuff and arranged the pick-up time with the captain.

I put on my gear and waded into the water, starting out with a few strong strokes to get me out to where the reef lay.  I was stopped short by some curious creatures, small jellyfish the size of a tangerine that were completely clear other than four tiny orange circles near their tails.  I tried to swim around them, but as I looked underwater, they stretched in a thick line in both directions.  I was hoping these weren't some lethal kind of sea creature that would paralyze me on the spot with one sting, and though they did sting when they touched their skin, I realized no harm would come of them and continued to swim through and dive beneath them.  I soon arrived at the coral reef, and stopped still in the water, stunned by the activity and life all around me.  What I had seen from above the water was but a hint of the busy underwater city that lay before me.  Giant coral rose like city buildings and skyscrapers in every direction, and its colorful citizens of fish of every size, shape and color created busy haphazard traffic that ran in all directions and planes.  It was truly miraculous.  I had never seen so many different kinds of fish, there must have been hundreds of different species that I saw in the first ten minutes.  I snorkeled until I was dizzy from the activity, then tagged Landon for his turn to visit the underwater city.

While sunbathing and reading as I waited for Landon while he snorkeled, I was approached by a friendly young Indonesian man who wanted to practice his English and see if I might be interested in his business.
"Well what kind of business are you in?"  I asked.
"The press."  He said.
"Oh, like the newspaper?  Magazines?"  I asked.
"No madame.  Press.  You want me to press you?"  He asked.
Now I was really confused.
"Press me?"  I asked, bewildered.  This was a little weird.
"Yes.  I press you.  Press your body."
"Ohhhh, you're a masseuse.  I see.  Um, no thank you, I don't need pressing today sir."  I said with a hidden smile, which I had to contain even more when Landon came back and he was also offered the opportunity for "a press".  He kindly declined, and we went off in search of lunch on Gili Trawangan.

Though the islands are certainly seeing more tourism in the last couple of years, they are still relatively unscathed by the crowds and developments that mark so many other beautiful islands around the world.  Other than a few small, local hotels and eateries, the island is still mostly green forest, white sandy beach, and serene turquoise waters.  We chose lunch at a Thai restaurant (gearing up for next week!), then met back up with our trusty captain so we could go snorkel at Gili Meno, the best snorkeling in the Gilis according to the captain.  Instead of pulling up to the beach as we had done on Gili Trawangan, he plopped us off in the middle of the water between Trawangan and Meno, right above the largest section of coral reef.  From there we spent over an hour-and-a-half, combing the endless expanse of reef below us, larger than several football fields.  We saw even more fish, and Landon made the accidental discovery that by flipping a fin close to the reef, it sent a gush of water of the coral that caused the tiny anenomes and other plants on it to snap shut like a Venus-flytrap.  I had to do it at least two more times, and laughed through my snorkel.  We swam as far as we could, to where the reef ended and then the ocean floor steeply dropped to its depths.  Wrinkled and exhilirated, we climbed back into the boat at the captain's urging, because rain was coming from every direction.  We almost beat the storm, but it caught us as we pulled along Lombok's coast.  By the time we arrived back at our hotel beach, we were soaked through and through.  Rain water indistinguishable from salt water as the sideways rain had only been rivaled by the waves that crashed over the side of the boat.  Hannah and Mom would have gotten so seasick!

We laid by the pool awhile, reading and enjoying the last hour of daylight.  I love swimming in the infinity pool here, because if you are at eye level with the water, the end of the pool and the beginning of the ocean are indistinguishable.  One deep blue flows into another, meeting at the point of the horizon which marked the setting sun.  Our last dinner on the oceanfront terrace was wonderful, and we toasted the delicious Indonesian food before us, but most of all our fabulous and special time together, with some cold Bintang's (the pride of Indonesia, a slightly bitter but good Pilsner).

This morning we woke up to a cool tropical shower, and dragged ourselves out of bed to meet our last day in Indonesia.  We fly to Bali, then will spend a few hours driving around in order to see the fantastic new year's celebration with the ogoh-ogoh's.  Our flight leaves to Singapore around 9 PM, where we will be reunited with Cristine and Julie!  I am so excited to see my darling friends again, and to continue our travels together.  Though they are two of my closest and dearest friends at home already, traveling and working with them in India for the past month has made me realize even more what a blessing it is to have them in my life.  They are extraordinary women.  I have come to know that traveling strengthens the bonds of relationships in an accelerated fashion, pushing you beyond your limits and challenging you in many ways.  When you go through it with people, your relationship emerges solidified and changed, for the better I think.  I am really looking forward to traveling all together with Julie, Cristine and Landon.  We will take a bus up the Malay Peninsula to Kuala Lumpur on Saturday, spend a day there, then fly to Thailand to begin a week of adventures there.  I can't wait!  I am already missing India very much, but being with my loved ones here and the constant excitement of each new day of travel brings even more joy than the one before it.  I feel very, very blessed.

Loving Lombok

I feel like Landon is past his jet-lag because we slept in until nine this morning!  We had luxurious showers on our outdoor bathroom patio, which I just can't get over.  It's simply the best.  I told Landon that we have to build an outdoor bathroom when we move to Miami.  Please don't picture a "port-o-potty" kind of outdoor bathroom, because that's the exact opposite.  This is like a genuine, luxurious master bathroom you'd find in a home...only there is no roof and you have an unhindered view of  the sky and the beautiful pink flowers hanging overhead as you start the day with a hot shower...ahhhh yes).  We had breakfast on the beachfront terrace, the sounds of the crashing ocean filling our ears and fresh fruit filling our bellies.  We then met our driver, Mr. Mamine, who was to drive us to the northern side of Lombok to hike on Mount Rinjani and visit the beautiful waterfalls.  Gunung Rinjani is the highest mountain in Lombok and the second highest in Indonesia at 3,726 meters.  It is an active volcano with a recent eruption in 1994, and its huge rater contains a large crescent lake that is 6 km at its widest point.  

I couldn't believe how beautiful the island was as we wound along the coast, in and out of palm tree forests and across rivers.  The scenery was constantly changing.  We wound up high cliffs that offered expansive views of the turqouise inlets that flowed into beaches and then the tall green mountains behind them.  The sand was so pristine-white that it assumed the deep blues and greens of the water as it sloped off the beach.  There was such stark topographical contrast between the towering mountains and the ocean, and endless wonder that stretched in between nature's great monuments.  We passed enormous fields of rice paddies in all stages of growth and harvest.  When the rice is very young and tender, it forms willowy wisps of close-packed green strands.  As it matures, it takes on a stronger, reed-like appearance and stands straight and tall in the reflective brown water of the field.  And at harvest, the water recedes and the plant takes on a yellowish-brown hue, ready to be taken for preparation into the form that finds itself onto our plates.  The terraced rice paddies were so visually-astounding, and even more impressive was the ingenious irrigation system that gave sustenance to it all.  As I marveled at the ingenuity of the engineering of it all, little did I know I'd experience it right at the source later that day.

It took almost two hours to reach Mount Rinjani, and as the incline grew so did my excitement as we climbed towards the cloud-covered peaks ahead.  Mr. Mamine helped us find a hiking guide, and we set off with a thin but sturdy-looking Indoesian man in his young twenties.  I was wearing my sturdy and trusty Chaco sandals, Landon was in tennis shoes, and our guide was in flimsy flip-flops that looked like they were from the sale bin at WalMart.  I was amazed that he could hike in them along the steep path and slippery stones when we crossed the river, but he was a fearless leader as we made our way to the first waterfall.  Landon and I were stunned by the seventy-five meter wall of white water that pounded into the pool below with enough force to kill anyone beneath it.  It freely fell from a giant rock ledge covered in an array of greenery so varied that I could hardly count the number of different plants.  The mist surrounding the waterfall was enough to soak us in seconds, and I closed my eyes to take in the fresh scent and feel the coolness on my sweaty skin.  I smiled at a mother bathing her child in a calm area of the stream.  Her naked daughter was gleefully splashing around as she tried to shampoo her hair.

The hike to the second waterfall was about twenty-five minutes from the first, and we had to cross the strong, swiftly-flowing water several times to continue on our way.  All the while I had been noticing that the water rushing downhill was being carefully directed by man-made stone gutters and tunnels.  It was really quite amazing how carefully placed and extensive the system was, and we crossed a neatly-placed bridge over one particularly rapid-flowing portion.  We reached the second and greatest waterfall, and stood in awe at its massive power and beauty.  This one stood even higher than the first, violently throwing infinite gallons of water into the deep blue pool below it.  Landon and I had both worn our swimsuits and we took long, cool dips into the pool, losing our breath instantly in the clean cold.  I will tell you that being in a bikini on a primarily Islamic island (Lombok is about 90% Islam, 10% Hindu, quite the opposite of Bali), makes one quite popular, and I was asked to pose in the photos of four teenage boys that were also visiting the waterfall.  Landon thought it was hilarious and jumped in all the pictures as well, and I only wish that we had captured the moment with our camera too.

After several more swims in the pool and many minutes of quiet reflection on its beauty, we began our hike back continuing along the same path until we crossed the bridge and came upon one of the tunnels I had seen earlier.
"Want to go in?"  Our guide asked, motioning toward the gaping black hole of the tunnel.
"In there?"  I squeaked.  Surely he was joking.
"Yeah!  We go back through irrigation tunnel."
And we did.  Though I was scared, I felt like it was an exciting adventure so we climbed down into the gutter and stepped into the unkown blackness of the tunnels.  The water was to the middle of my thighs and flowing very fast and strong.  If I lifted my feet up for too long it would carry me away.  Every few meters were small openings to let in a little daylight, but it really only provided enough light for me to see the occasional bat swopping by my face.  We made our way through the tunnels for what seemed like an eternity, Landon touching my back when it was pitch black to make sure I was still there, and I in turn reaching out for the certainty of our guide's cotton shirt.  We finally emerged in the sunshine, and climbed out of the gutter and back onto the path.
"Special tour."  Our guide grinned, and he was right.

We had lunch at a restaurant that hung off the side of the mountain, still able to enjoy the wild beauty around us while sipping traditional Lombok coffee and eating chicken with spicy chili sauce.  From our table you could see the first waterfall behind us, the other side of the green valley across us, and the terraced rice paddies ahead of us.  As views go, it really doesn't get any better.

We finished our time on Mount Rinjani with a visit to a Sasak Village, the traditional way of living for the people of northern Lombok.  It was a well-organized tiny city of huts whose walls were composed of intricately-woven bamboo and roofs were made of palm fronds.  They stored their rice and grain in smaller huts elevated several feet off the ground, under which goats and roosters rooted the ground for food.  Handwoven baskets hung all around, useful for many purposes from swinging a crying baby to catching a wiley chicken.  This way of living was quite different than the Balinese compound we'd seen the day earlier, and I was glad to get yet another view of a culture so different than my own.  Cacao, mango and cashew trees lined the village, and from its edges there were magnificent views of the mountains and valleys surrounding it.  I wished we'd had more time to do a trek up Mount Rinjani, but it takes about 2-3 days and we wanted to see more of Lombok and the Gilli Islands.  Guess we'll just have to come back. :)

On the drive down the mountain, we stopped at Taman Wisata Tetebatu, or the Monkey Forest, to feed the monkeys that had made the mountainside their home.  We had passed several on our way up, standing like dedicated sentries along rails and stumps lining the road.  With our bag of peanuts we approached a few of them, which soon turned into a massive crowd of hopping, chattering beasts!  One particularly aggressive fellow as intent on having all the peanuts for himself.  While Landon held a few in his hand while taking a picture of me, the greedy fellow climbed up his leg and latched onto his wrist in an attempt to get at the peanuts.  Landon would have none of it and shook him off, but this didn't deter him much as the cheeky monkey later gave me a good slap across the calves when I ran out of peanuts.  I tell you, my view of monkeys has changed drastically since coming to Asia.  Don't get me wrong, I still adore them, but I have become well-accquainted with their selfish and greedy behaviors!

We dined by candelight on the ocean terrace again, talking about our incredibly fun day and planning our trip to the Gilli Islands by boat tomorrow.  We plan on snorkeling and hopping between the three islands that are rumored to be so incredibly lovely and exotic. 

Bliss in Bali

We awoke to the sound of tropical showers outside our window Sunday morning.  Because Landon was still on Oklahoma time he was quite alert while I could barely rouse myself out of bed at the ghastly hour of 8 AM.  He excitedly pointed out the gecko climbing our wall, and told me our breakfast would soon be served on the porch outside our room.  Still groggy I emerged as one of the charming young Indonesian men that worked at the hotel placed trays on the low table laden with hot coffee, fresh fruit and juice, toast with jam and the typical Indonesian breakfast dish of vegetable fried rice topped with a fried egg.  We contentedly sat on the porch for an hour, watching the rain fall on the canopy of green before us, listening to its gentle stacatto on the roof and leaves, enjoying each other's company and our first morning in Bali.  The rain let up with the same quick flourish in which it had begun, and we were off to explore Sanur.  We walked down the main road and marveled at the happenings of daily life around us.  The area in which we stayed had little in the way of tourism, so the scene was quite local as we walked by the warungs (roadside eateries) selling savory satays, children scampering around in the dirt and people hard at work in the surrounding fields.  

As intended, our walk led us to to the volcanic black sand beach.  I hadn't been to a black sand beach since our visit to the Canary Islands when we studied abroad in Europe, and was reminded of how strikingly beautiful they are, their ebony expanse pulled back and forth by the aquamarine fingers of the tides.  From the beach we could see a great expanse of coastline to our right, tall mountains to our left, and straight ahead, a peppering of tiny islands in a haphazard row, as if someone had carelessly tossed them like marbles into the ocean.  We walked along the edge of the water for some time, observing the locals performing religious ceremonies in which they placed flowers, food and other items into tiny rafts woven of palm fronds and sent them into the waves.  I later saw these offerings everwhere we went in Bali, and learned that they are signs of respect for the gods, ancestors, spirits and demons that are believed to live in Bali.  These deities and spiritual beings are all presented with these offerings throughout the day to show respect and gratitude, and in some cases to bribe a particularly mischevious demon. I had read a bit about Indonesian religion before coming, and was surprised by the hodgepodge of belief systems in the archipelago nation.  Hinduism was the predominant religion in Indonesia until the great Hindu kingdom, the Majapahit, moved to Bali, thus carrying with them their religion and its rituals.  The Balinese, in their characteristic warm and accepting manner, incorporated the Hindu beliefs into their pre-existing animistic religion, and the peculiar Balinese interpretation of Hinduism was born.  The Balinese worship the trinity of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu (as the traditional Hindu religion does), and they also have a supreme god, Sanghyag Widi.  Islam is a minority religion on Bali, with many followers on Lombok, the island we were headed to next.  There is also the motley assortment of Christian and Jewish practioners in Bali as well.


Along with the number of people performing these religious offerings were many fisherman, floating their boats out to sea in hopes of a successful fishing day.  Our walk took us to the main beach strip, where we passed many beachfront restaurants, warungs and shops where everyone urged us to come look at their excellent merchandise for "special prices".  We walked around for bit along the strip and in the main town, then settled down on some reclining lounge chairs near the water for the bargain price of 100,000 Rupiah (10,000 Rupiah equal 1 US Dollar...quite the exchange rate here).  No sooner had we sat down when I felt two strong hands rubbing my shoulers.
"You want nice Balinese massage?  Very cheap.  I give you good scrub too.  Very cheap.  Very nice."
I turned to see a tiny but stout Balinese woman in jean shorts and a tank top, her hands working vigorously to loosen the tension in my shoulders.  My Aunt Nettie had told me about the fabulous massages she had received in Bali, and she wasn't joking.  For about 10 bucks I had the best massage of my life, right on the beach for an entire hour.  This woman had the strongest hands I had every felt, and used them to attack every muscle in my body.  She massaged oil everywhere, even into my hair!  She tried to give one to Landon, but her magic didn't work on him and I heard her calling out to others as she walked off,
"Nice massage!  Very cheap!"
We were soon approached by another Balinese businessperson, this time a man named Made (pronounced "Mod-e" with a long "e" at the end.  He wanted us to give us his very special tour of Bali, all for the bargain price of 600,000 Rupiah.  He was quite astonished when I used the bargaining skills I had accquired in India and got him down to 250,000.
"Wow!  I've never known an American that can bargain like her!" He said to Landon.
He was honestly very sweet and funny, and we agreed to have him pick us up at 4 PM at our hotel to take us to Pura Luhur Ulu Watu for the evening to see the sacred temple and to watch the traditional Balinese Kecak dance on the cliffs at sunset.  On our walk back home, we made yet another friend.  A jolly gentleman in his sixties who loved Americans because he could practice his English with them.  He walked the whole 1.5 miles home with us, chattering all the way about the Monica Lewinsky scandal, his love of custom-tailored suits and how much he loved President Obama.  I was a little sad to see him part ways with us, and I smiled at all the new friends we seemed to meet everywhere we went in Indonesia.


Made was exactly on time as promised and was a sensational conversationalist as he drove us the 1.5 hours to Ulu Watu.  He told us many fascinating things about Indonesia and Bali, one of which was that the celebration of Balinese New Year that began on March 4th with the parade of Ogoh-Ogoh's around the island before the day of silence (Nyepi Day) on March 5th.  The Balinese build these giant, paper-mache monsters (the Ogoh-Ogoh's), and parade them around the entire island in a racuous manner to chase away the bad and evil spirits from Bali in preparation for Nyepi Day to welcome in the Balinese new year.  Landon and I were thrilled that we didn't leave until late evening on the 4th, so we'd be able to see the Ogoh-Ogoh's marching down the streets of Bali.  

Made walked us from the car to the base of the temple, first helping us buy the sarong and sash that was required of all people in accordance with the laws of the sacred temple.  I noticed that he had a limp, and asked him what happened.  He told me that he'd had polio as a young child, and as a result, had partial loss of function of his left leg.  I told him that I was terribly sorry that he had suffered from the terrible disease, and he said to me,
"But why?  I am happy?  This is my blessing to be alive."
And once again I saw the humble and graceful spirit that I had met so many times in India.  What may seem like misfortune to so many is but a reminder of the gift of life to others.  It's all relative to where you're coming from, I suppose.


Made warned us to take off every speck of jewelry, watches and sunglasses, because the hordes of monkeys around the temple were trained to steal people's stuff by the peanut vendors around the temple.  To get your stuff back, you had to pay outrageous prices to the sellers to get some peanuts in order to make a trade with these badly-behaved furry fellows.  He was certainly right, and I watched as a girl had a flip-flop stolen right off her foot.  I saw another monkey perched on top of the wall, thoughtfully chewing a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses.  Nonetheless we enjoyed walking through the temple, built to honor the spirits of the sea along the south coast of Bali.  The temple is perched precipitously on the cliffs of the southwestern peninsula, and below it is a sheer drop to the raging surf.  The temple was quite beautiful with many archways and stone carvings, and the small inner temple is still an active and private place for Hindu worship.  The best part of it all, however, was the enchanting view from atop the cliffs.  We had unhindered glances down both sides of the coast, and witnessed an incredible and brilliant sunset as we leaned against the temple walls.


The dance ceremony began right around sundown, and we sat on stone benches and watched a fascinating story from the Ramayana (one of the great Hindu holy books) of Prince Rama trying to rescue his beautiful wife Princess Sita when she is stolen from him through a serious of unfortunate events by the evil Rahwana.  The dancing was beautiful, and the whole thing was quite entertaining because not only was the entire dance accompanied by a choir of thirty-five loudly chanting bare-chested men, but there was scene in which Hanuman, the white-monkey god, jumped through a wall of flame then kicked burning piles of grass into the audience in his attack on Rahwana.  Landon and I were quite impressed by the pyrotechnics as well as the traditional Balinese dance, and agreed that it was an excellent suggestion by Made and we told him so as we got back in the car and he drove us to dinner in Jimbaran.  


We told Made that we wanted fresh seafood for dinner, and again he delivered on his promise by taking us to a restaurant where you dined on the beach and picked out your seafood as they swam in the large tanks you passed when you walked in the restaurant!  I felt a little guilty as I eyed the fish I would be eating for dinner, but the red snapper and jumbo prawns were so good any remorse I had was washed away with a gulp of fresh banana juice.  We bade Made goodnight with many thanks and a generous tip, thankful for such a fun, cultural and exciting day in Bali.


The next morning Landon had arranged for Banyan Tree Bike Tours to pick us up at our hotel at 7:00 AM to take us into the mountains for a day of touring by bicycle.  Our enthusiastic tour guides picked us up promptly at 7 AM and after picking up Petra and Rhiannon, a lovely Australian couple that was staying in touristy and frenetic Kuta beach, we made the 1.5 hour drive to Pacung, a town in the mountains.  We stopped for breakfast at a restaurant with open views of the valley and terraced rice paddies below.  The air was cool and blew in the rain from the mountains, and I felt so rejuvenated as we drank coffee, ate banana pancakes and gazed in wonder at the beauty below.  Our biking guides found out by way of conversation that Rhiannon was in the coffee business at home, so we made a special stop at a coffee plantation so that we could all try Kopi Luwak,  one of the world's finest, most-expensive and most curious coffees.  Why the curiousity, you ask?  Because it is made from the beans of coffee berries which have been eaten by the Civet cat, passed through its digestive tract and then excreted, the coffee beans keeping their shape.  The beans are gathered, washed, dried, roasted and brewed, supposedly yielding an aromatic coffee that is smooth and delicious.  Supposedly the proteolytic enzymes in the Civet's stomach seep into the beans, digesting the peptides into shorter amino acids and enhancing the flavor.  Kopi Luwak is produced mainly on the islands of Bali, Sumatra, Java, Sulawesi and also in the Phillipines, and sells for over $500/kilogram.  I of course had to try this world-renowned "sh*t" coffee as Petra called it, and I will admit while very good, I was more fond of another Balinese I sampled whose coffee beans had had a less eventful life course than those in the Kopi Luwak.  The plantation grew many other produce, and Landon and I tried the snakeskin fruit for the first time, which was tart, tangy, sweet and delicious, almost the consistency of an unripe pear.


We began our bike tour shortly after the coffee break, and I immeadiately realized that this was the absolute best way to see Bali.  Our guides took us on the tiny back roads that wound through villages, past streams, over rivers and on narrow paths directly through the endless fields of rice paddies.  In several villages we saw the construction of the Ogoh-Ogoh's under way, and I stopped to take pictures and give my approval to the people hard at work on them.  We stopped outside one village at a beautiful temple to Shiva, built at the base of a 200-year-old Banyan tree.  I have never seen such a behemoth of a tree!  It's trunk was as big as a house, and there were so many roots and individual intertwined branches it was impossible to track them as they spiraled into the massive emerald canopy above us, completing drowning out the sun.  Our guide took this opportunity to pick up a spider as big as my hand and let it run up his hands, onto his face and even in and out of his mouth.  He thought my squeamishness was hilarious, and passed it to Landon who took equal glee in letting it spin a web between his outstretched fingertips.  


We pedaled for several hours in the strong sun, but the breeze was cool and refreshing and I hardly noticed the work because I was constantly transfixed by the sights around me.  Around every turn was a beautiful mountain, a flowering tree or a field of startling green, and that's not to mention the parade of local life in the form of hardworking farmers, women washing their clothes and children playing who all stopped to wave at us and smile.  We even stopped at a typical Balinese home so we could learn about their traditional way of living.  The Balinese live in compounds, with typically three families living within the compound.  The compound is surrounded by a high wall, and analagous to the human body, there's a head (the family temple with its ancestral shrine), arms (the sleeping and living areas) legs and feet (the kitchen, storage buildings and gardens).  There is one head family whose job is to be in the compound at all times, tending to its daily needs, and the rest of the family can work outside the home to support themselves and the head family.  It has been very interesting to see how family units live and function outside the United States, and an underlying theme both in India and Indonesia is a strong sense of community and dependence on one another in daily living, much more so than in the United States.


We ended the day of glorious biking in the home of Bhayan, the owner of Banyan Bike Tours.  It was very touching that the tour concluded with a meal of home-booked Indonesian food eaten on his porch while his children played with their puppies in the grass.  We ate delicious and spicy Indonesian food while talking with him about everything from world politics to religion to his favorite Indonesian deserts.  He spoke at length about the sadness and loss he felt from the October 2002 bombings in Kuta, and said that many Balinese, including himself, are still searching for understanding of the terrorist act and continuing to deal with its ramifications.  In an act that killed over 200 people and injured over 300, the peaceful and friendly image of Bali was destroyed in one second along with precious life.  Beyond the loss of human life, the bombings were disastrous to the economy and tourism is still recovering, according to Bhayan.  He spoke with worry about the terrorist groups that come to Indonesia to recruit impressionalbe young men, saying that any acts of terrorism and hate go against the Indonesian virutes of love and respect for all forms of life.  He was a lovely man, and I enjoyed spending the afternoon sitting with everyone on his porch, participating in the discussions but also just listening.


Landon and I were dropped off in Ubud, the cultural center of Bali, after the tour and spent some time perusing the markets and strolling the vibrant streets.  We bought a painting of farmers working in the rice paddies to always remind us of the bike ride when we return home, and caught a ride back to Sanur where we lounged by the pool and had an exquisite meal cooked by Braman, Michael's partner and the other owner of The Tropical Bali Hotel.


We were sad to say goodbye to Michael, Braman and the lovely paradise we'd found in Sanur, but excited as we boarded the small plane that would take us to the island of Lombok, just twenty minutes by air from Bali.  As we flew to Lombok, I could see the entire expanse of Bali to the right and Java to my left as we crossed the water.  As we came in for a landing on Lombok, I could already see that it was a less-traveled, less touristy place.  Exactly what we were wanting.  We walked through the tiny airport and to the car waiting for us, and I enjoyed the car ride to the hotel, the coast a constant presence through my windows on the left.  We arrived at our hotel, which honestly, is the most beautiful and fantastic place I have ever stayed in.  We have our own private villa with a curtained bed, outdoor enclosed stone shower and a lovely sitting porch where we were immeadiately served fruity drinks out of an entire pineapple.  The grounds of the resort are a tropical paradise that lead directly to an expansive terrace that overlooks the ocean and beach directly below.  This truly is paradise, and I am in constant wonder of Landon's skills as a travel planner.  Perhaps he should pick it up as a side job.


We watched a magnificent sunset for almost an hour, lingering long after the sun had actually disappeared because the sky kept surprising us with encores of magenta, flourescent pinks and finally deep purples.  You could perfectly make out the looming, dark peaks of Bali's volcanoes across the water, and the setting sun provided perfect retro-illumination to the majestic mountains.  We dined to the sound of waves crashing agains the sea wall below the restaurant, and are ready to turn in for the night, resting beneath the wispy white cloth of our canopy bed.  Ready to start tomorrow anew with a trip around Lombok.  Life is good.