New Things

My observation of all the things I missed and have so kindly welcomed me back in their arms. As you can tell by the list below my re-entry in America has not led me to consider this vast rolling lands boring, but rather I appreciate the beauty and freshness of a culture that is significantly unique. I absolutely loved my travels abroad , but I equally venerate the John Deer hunting caps and the Thanksgiving-DIY-Soccer mom.   

Pandora
Commercials
Witty banter with hostesses
sweaters
top sheets
gloves
heaters
boots
A SMART phone
being in the same time zone
reliable, fast internet
the "types" of Americans
the over eager, Loud side conversations
cottage cheese
cereals
real coffee (NesCafe never grew on me)
Individual meals
No one commenting on my weight, skin color or complexion
leggings
hair dryers
no whitening cremes in lotions
Christmas music
Fall/Thanksgiving decorations

Too many options

P.S.I have not finished posting about the Cambodia and Vietnam of my backpacking trip, the interesting characters that could the protagonist of any adventure travel novel, or my final conclusion about this year but while the beautiful re-entry conclusions are fresh and funny they come first. 

I am back. I am H.O.M.E, I have to say it twice because I am still in disbelief that I won't wake up to the sound of roosters and screaming children. As I drive down the highway I still think there is going to be a motorcycle with a family of five weave past us at the red light. I still feel like I should the leathered, old man pushing his giant cart of cement bags up hill on the highway. It was so wierd being in my room with all my lotions still on my desk and more than three pairs of shoes to wear. My mascara was still in the bathroom drawer, and it was like have a whole new wardrobe as I rediscovered my closet. My sisters have had their way with her, but like a Thai lady boy prostitute, everything has been cleaned a return to its normal location in the corner.


So far my biggest reverse culture shock moments have come from the plethora of options. Everything fits, I can read everything, I can ask questions about what it is, is there another size, or alternate an order. I am overstimulated.There were so many options of salad dressings last night at the tex mex restaurant that I didn't get any because I couldn't make up my mind. The waitress looked at me and said are you sure? and I said " I think. Yes. Yes." (Double words in Thai is used in place of very. For example slow slow would be very slow). Fred shook his head knowing there are weeks of re-socialization to come.


I am also not used to all the small talk, this may be a southern thing or a I am in a country where they speak English, as I go shopping everyone wants to know how I am. One person asked "are you having a great day today?" Have service workers always been so ambitious about making sure I feel like I just bought a puppy or is that the new sales tactic in this "New Economy" as the KIA ad says.

I went shopping, and I was so excited to buy boots and tailored tops. I feel like my year wearing garden picking skirts, as the weather year round was 80-110, has made me allergic to anything that resembles a flowy  bohemian top. Unfortunately, some of that look is in especially in short dresses and brown boots. Maybe I will eventually give in but now every time my mom held up a multiprint top with more than three colors I twitched a little.

Our Forever 21 has tripled in size and added a second floor. The myriad of options, the sequence tights, and the bohemian, long skirts made my only use of the store as a walk-though to something less intimidating. I am still not doing well with all the options. I am so used to three options in Big-C, the Thai version of a walmart that catered to the 5 Asian girls above a size 0 and taller than 5'3'', only because that is in the the only shirt that fits my American broad shoulders, non-Asian chest size (even my 15 year old sister has a bigger chest), and hips bigger than a bed side lamp.

At the end of the day shopping was fun again, but a underlining sense of guilt couldn't be helped. After a year of convincing my students, Cambodia paraplegic beggars, Indonesia toothless mothers with three sleeping babies in her arms, the gaping, cratered skull Thai outside the Silom subway stop in Bangkok that I was not a wealthy farang, foreigner, I sure felt very,very privileged. In Thailand I learned how blessed I was to have an amazing opportunity to completely alter my perspective of humanity, but in Kentucky I am reminded how blessed I am to have such wonderful friends and family. I am not meant to be 9,000 miles away from this wonderful place.

Travelin'

October 25-29^th Vang Vieng, Loas. Nothing prepared me for the lack of infrastructure in Laos. The roads were so pot-holed it was as if a giant had taken a sledge hammer to the winding roads destroying the flat highway. At points the main highway in Laos was only mud and rock. Luckily we avoided ran as the doomful highway is notorious for mudslides creating laborers out of passengers who have to push their van out of the rut. After 6 hours, two stops for the driver’s sanity, and a peanut butter sandwich picked up from a road side stand, we arrived in Van Vieng. The town is mostly for young backpackers wanting to explore the valleys caressed in the Limestone Mountains or float in old inner tubes down the city’s main river stopping at river bars to catch a drink. In its own way VV is the Las Vegas of Laos with a rustic, spring break, island feel. The restaurants are lounge style displaying Friends or Family Guy on an endless loop. After a day trekking or tubing, the lounges are sprinkled with weary travelers indulging in hours of American TV over a bowl of fried noodles or a poor attempt at a Hamburger. 

The pot hole roads of Laos

Our Guesthouse in the the Moutians

View from our door

Walk to the other side of the river

I would like to say I was above the inner tubing, as nothing about the event is cultural or representative of a traditional Buddhist society, but I have to admit I loved meeting fellow travelers, sharing a bucket, and floating from one bar to the next. We shared a tuk-tuk to the river with a British couple who were traveling southeast Asia with hopes of ending in Australia, working for a year, and traveling off the money they earned, and a young 19 year old who after his first semester of college had decided to sell his call buy a round the world  trip ticket and “be poor traveling rather than poor in Oxford”. His journeys were ending in south America, Miami, and New York. There were amazing company sitting on bamboo rafts at the first few stops. After jumping with Leah off the high dive twice, we decide to float down seeing what else the river offered leaving our new friends behind. Unfortunately after the biggest bend in the river the attractions and the people dwindled. We stopped at one stop and took the giant concrete slide. The end of the slid curved up roughly 50 feet above the water causing its user to fly off the end of the slide and violently smack the water on your side- I am still feeling the consequences of the decisions. We floated the next 90 minutes down the cool river, as the sun set behind the Mountains and decided to take a tuk-tuk back into town. Exhausted from water and attractions, I turned in at 5pm that night. 

The following day, wanting to enjoy the gorgeous butterfly garden and the sun, I laid in the fields around our guesthouse finishing the end of my book. After feeling properly sunned I headed into town, a really cute walk along cow patties on the river crossing over a bamboo bridge to enter the “dark-side”, named after the debauchery of spring-break like activities. After a mango smoothie and lunch, I went for a long walk through rice paddies and to explore a cave. I came across a guided cave in I squeezed through narrow tunnels deeper in the earth with only a head lamp. It was the first time I have climbed through caves in which the walkways are bamboo poles. It wasn’t until I shinned my light below my feet to realize under the poles was an endless drop. I escaped the tunnels caked in mud from slithering through crevasses while my thin barefoot guide was spotless.  

November 1-3^rd: On November 3^rd we arrived in Bali at noon exhausted from our overnight stay in the airport. Due to our 3:30am check-in time for our 6:15am morning flight, staying in the airport seemed to be the most financially practical idea. Unfortunately metal benches and freezing air-con rooms don’t make for the best night sleep. We had arrived to Bangkok early that morning via an overnight train from Laos, spent the day in Bangkok at the Fulbright office checking mail, got a massage, and saw a cheap movie, “In Time”, in order to kill time before heading to the airport around 10pm. 

We are staying in Ubud, famous for Elizabeth Gilberts final destination in EPL. At the central part of the island there are no beaches, just two main streets of eclectic art shops, yoga barns, loose cotton boutique clothing shops, and tons of home stays. We are staying in a family compound with 8 separate homes on the grounds. The center building is the family’s shrine. Throughout the inner gardens the family has a collection of exotic birds. A myriad of ornate Balinese doors frame the courtyard. 

The ornate doors

Balinese statues

Third homestay in Bali- Inner courtyard

November 4^th-6^th

Due to our room not being available we had to go on a search for a new home stay. After searching in four very similar home stays- all have the decorated doors and a central courtyard with small brick bungalows facing inward – we found a decent place for 150,000 Rupahias or 15 dollars. After the hectic morning of lugging our stuff around, we found a luxurious pool tucked into brilliant green rice fields. It was everything I thought Bali would be. For lunch we enjoyed sweet Balinese tea and Gadu-Gadu, mixed vegetable salad with savory peanut sauce.

That night we all went out for rice wine and local dishes. The best by far is Nasi Campur, white rice served with will a sample of all the house specialties : bar-b-q chicken, minced meat on bamboo sticks, spicy salsa, fish cakes, marinated chicken, and boiled roots. We had to have a very decadent, nutrient-rich meal for our 2:30 wake-up call the next morning to climb a dormant volcano.

After an hour drive in the early morning, we met our two guides, put on our head lamps, and briskly headed to the edge of the ascent. After about a forty minute walk through flat, desiccated lava with greenery peeping through the 10 year old rock we reached the treacherous incline.  It was amazing walking to the mountain, not seeing the outline of the hill, but only the headlamps winding back and forth the path like fireflies buzzing back and forth. 

There were all types of climbers on the path, some robbed in North-face gear from Poncho to ankle high boots and some in short mini dresses and high heels. The later was unfortunate who I followed up the mountain, her black undies were not a relief as I struggled up the mountain. At every breathing spot, I would turn away from the peak and look Bbck at the sunrise slowly started to rise over the adjacent cliffs. It was hard to capture the pink reflecting off the top of the clouds in the pitch black morning.

Twenty minutes after reaching the top we watched the sunrise over the tallest mountain in Bali. After an exhilarating hike and a chilly morning, the sunrise was a perfect way to solidify the experiences. Wrapped in a sweater, something I have not worn in over a year, I enjoyed the Balinese Coffee, the boiled egg and the Pineapple Jam sandwich we were served for breakfast. The coffee was heated over a fire started from one of the steam pits seeping of the earth.

Reaching the top in the clouds

Sunrise... worth it

jumping on the volcano

After Breakfast we explored the rest of the dormant volcano trekking down paths carved by hardened lava. Our guide showed us where to dig for steam pits in which the molten rock crackled under the heat.