tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2737159586112607632024-02-18T23:21:27.530-08:00A Normal TripA trip through 4 countries in 4 months by a student from New York.Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-72659411594789592352011-05-16T12:41:00.001-07:002011-05-22T07:56:28.946-07:00From Point A to Point B<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">May 8. Actually, I’ll need to begin this day on the night before. On the night of the 7<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>, I had left Mae Sariang for the last time. I was scheduled to fly home on the morning of the 8<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>. This was a bit sooner than I had originally planned, but in order to ensure that I had a summer job I needed to be home earlier. My goodbyes with the staff and children were short and sweet. However, if the other children had been there I’m sure it would have been a different farewell. With Bay, Goe, and Tim all in America, I didn’t feel as sad, but it was still depressing to leave the place you had called home for a month. Brian, Bowjoe, and Doe came with me into Chiang Mai for one last good time together, and we did have a great last night.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We didn’t even waste time hanging around the base house. As soon as we arrived, the Thailand Manager drove us to the mall for dinner where I experienced my last authentic Thai meal for a very long time. I ordered some delicious curry and some sticky rice and mango to finish. Afterwards, we wandered aimlessly through the mall trying to find the main exit (all the other ones had been locked). Upon finding the main exit, we spotted a movie theater inside the mall. I hadn’t seen an actual movie in a while and was eager to. Thankfully, Fast and Furious 5 was playing at midnight and it was the only movie in English. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I ended up not sleeping that night. The four of us went back to the base house talked until 5:00, at which time I needed to board my plane to Bangkok. I wanted to keep my goodbyes to everyone as brief as possible (it’s really not in me to have drawn out goodbyes).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It actually turned out to be more of a “see you later!” than a goodbye. From that point on, things starting going badly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I needed to wait another hour for the check-out counter to open, which wouldn’t have been a problem if my flight didn’t leave in an hour and a half. After checking my baggage, I had to continue through customs. However, I was stopped halfway through the procedure and asked to step out of the line. It turns out that I had stayed 8 days over my 1 month visa. I had to pay 500 baht for every day I had stayed over, in cash. Now, I had spent all my cash beforehand and I lost my ATM card days ago, so consequentially I had no means of paying, and that was just the beginning.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I exhausted every guilt trip in my arsenal, but this customs officer was immune to my charms. The only option left to me was to find Wi-Fi, Skype my parents, have them give me the PIN to my backup credit card, and buy a new flight to Bangkok. It all went surprisingly smoothly and I was on my way to Bangkok within the hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wanted nothing more than to doze off on my flight to Bangkok, but I couldn’t. I was too anxious about the next flight to even blink. The customs officer caused me to sacrifice crucial time for my transfer to the flight going from Bangkok to Hong Kong and now I only had 30 minutes to check my bag, check in, pay my way through customs, head through security and make my way through one of the world’s largest airports to my gate. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I tried preparing for the upcoming ordeal as well as I could. I nagged the flight attendant to make sure that my luggage was handed to me as soon as we landed, so I wouldn’t need to go through baggage claim, and I put all my metal into my backpack, leaving only the cash I needed, my boarding pass, and my passport in my pocket. All my daily runs also came in handy, because if I hadn’t have sprinted through the airport, I would have never made that flight.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was too relieved and full of adrenaline to sleep on the flight from Bangkok to Hong Kong. I tried blogging about my flight, but I wasn’t in the mood to write. Even attempting a little self-reflection was too much for me to handle. In the end, I gave up trying to do anything productive and decided on watching a few movies before I landed in Hong Kong. Even during my 4 hour layover, I couldn’t let the creative juices flow.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 369.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For 4 hours, I walked around the airport, eating lunch, and peering at the quirky, duty-free items for sale. I began to feel guilty of how much time I was wasting, and the endless rows of perfume and rum wasn’t helping this feeling. Then I realized, I was feeling a sense of loss, one that I had felt only once before. That was when I was on my way home from my service trip in Tanzania so many years ago. But before I had time to let this feeling swell inside me, I was falling asleep on the plane to New York.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-67805954718803740752011-05-12T10:32:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:39:41.340-07:00From Tourists to Farmers<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">May 2-7. I never thought I would miss the sound of the roosters cooing above my head at 5am… and I thought correctly. Their piercing shrieks are almost as bad as listening to Chinese karaoke when you’re trying to sleep, but it’s a close call. The mornings were as glorious as ever at the orphanage and I relished in the rising sun that I had missed for 2 weeks straight. The rotis, apples, pineapple, and patka poa were as delicious as ever. Even Tavi, a rambunctious 12 year old who got on everyone’s nerves, couldn’t bother me when he tried to poke my eyes out with his fork.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The differences in this week of the orphanage were few, but profound. As I had explained in my last post, the second half of the kids were here at the orphanage, while the ones I had been with before were away with their families. I also did not do as much adventuring or new things as I normally had done before. Bowjoe and Goe seemed too busy to spare time to take us to any waterfalls or temples, and since every other staff member was either busy or had left for America (including Tim and Bay), Brian and I were left to our own devices. This wasn’t much of a setback, just more of an unexpected change. My schedule also became much fuller than it normally was. I was now teaching 3 English classes a day. The 2 girls who sold us rotis every morning were eager to learn English, so every evening at 7pm you could find me tutoring these 2 girls in the Big House.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Brian, on the other hand, was content with playing soccer in the evenings. I was never all that great at soccer and didn’t want to try my hand at becoming seriously embarrassed, so I let him do that on his own. During our down time, we would bike around Mae Sariang, get massages, or watch a soccer game. However, we didn’t get a bunch of down time because in addition to our jobs as English teachers, we also became farmers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every afternoon, before lunch and after English lessons, we would plow a field with the other staff members. When I used to think of plowing, I thought of oxen pulling the plow machine while the farmer steers it. The Thailand reality is much farther from that. There was a small motor equipped to the plow, but it did almost nothing to ease the process. It was mostly the strength of your body to propel the plow forward. As such, it took a long time. After one circle of the field, you would be too hot and your hands would be too blistered to carry on, so we switched after every round.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Talking with Brian about our adventures never became dull. It was amazing to realize how much we had experienced in such a short time, and it was great to share these experiences with someone who could understand what they meant to you. We never wasted time in pondering whether or not we wanted to do something new, because were both in a “let’s do it all” state of mind. It was even better to have a friend with you during those experiences at the orphanage because it made plowing fields, climbing trees, teaching English, and biking around the area 10 times more fun.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The nights were also fun with Brian. We stayed up, watching soccer games and talking about nothing, while the kids played games. They let us join in a few times on their ridiculous hand games, but Brian and I were so bad that we decided to no longer embarrass ourselves after the first few rounds. Before bed each night, we would take turns buying the kids ice cream, which probably gave us some bonus points in their eyes. Our logic behind it was that if we ever want to come back to Thailand to stay for free, we could always count on those kids to remember those chocolate nut bars.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-41803151535401369532011-05-08T00:52:00.001-07:002011-05-08T00:52:04.884-07:00Old Friends<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">May 1. An hour after I had left Bangkok I was to be found picking up my luggage and in the company of one of the coolest Thai dudes ever, Bay. His original plan was to leave for America on the 18<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>, but he stayed just long enough to send me out to back to Mae Sariang. We spent the night in Chiang Mai and the next morning I was waving goodbye to the coolest Thai dude ever through the glass of a public van.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another student of the orphanage, Chat Chai, came with me. I had met him on only one other occasion and that was precisely a month ago when I had first come to Thailand. The public van was uncomfortably cramped, long, and smelled of vomit, so I had a great welcome back to Mae Sariang.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I finally arrived back at the orphanage, I was half expecting a few kids to run out and say hello, but I was greeted by a palpable silence. Nobody seemed to even be around. I found P.A., Nan, Goe, and Doe back in the kitchen and received a warm welcome from them, but no kids. Upon arriving at the big house, I figured out why. Every single kid I had known for the past month left to go for a home visit and second half of the orphanage group was here. This was quite alarming, because it meant that I was starting from scratch. I had to learn new, hard to pronounce names and had break through the awkward shy stage that came with a new foreign student. Yet, I was ready for the challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I met Bowjoe upstairs on the computer and he was accompanied by none other than Brian, one of the kids I had spent my month of February with! I was half surprised by his presence, but I was glad to see him nonetheless. He had told me he was coming to visit the orphanage at some point, though he never gave a specific date. Katie is also supposed to be arriving soon, but I believe she doesn’t come until the 8<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last few hours of the day were spent catching up with Brian. We both excitedly threw detailed stories of our past travels at each other and reminisced about New Zealand and Fiji, which we both agreed was the most fun month of Rustic so far. Even when he had just come back from Tanzania with Andrew, Steren, and David (who were also on my New Zealand trip) he could say that it couldn’t top New Zealand. That evening, we played an intense game of soccer and ate our fill of the delicious curry Nan had prepared. It wasn’t soon after that I passed out on my bed from exhaustion, but it wasn’t an unpleasant exhaustion. As I went to bed, I felt truly peaceful for the first time in a few weeks.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-43663289231749493842011-05-08T00:50:00.001-07:002011-05-08T00:50:26.612-07:00Old Friends<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">May 1. An hour after I had left Bangkok I was to be found picking up my luggage and in the company of one of the coolest Thai dudes ever, Bay. His original plan was to leave for America on the 18<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>, but he stayed just long enough to send me out to back to Mae Sariang. We spent the night in Chiang Mai and the next morning I was waving goodbye to the coolest Thai dude ever through the glass of a public van.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another student of the orphanage, Chat Chai, came with me. I had met him on only one other occasion and that was precisely a month ago when I had first come to Thailand. The public van was uncomfortably cramped, long, and smelled of vomit, so I had a great welcome back to Mae Sariang.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I finally arrived back at the orphanage, I was half expecting a few kids to run out and say hello, but I was greeted by a palpable silence. Nobody seemed to even be around. I found P.A., Nan, Goe, and Doe back in the kitchen and received a warm welcome from them, but no kids. Upon arriving at the big house, I figured out why. Every single kid I had known for the past month left to go for a home visit and second half of the orphanage group was here. This was quite alarming, because it meant that I was starting from scratch. I had to learn new, hard to pronounce names and had break through the awkward shy stage that came with a new foreign student. Yet, I was ready for the challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I met Bowjoe upstairs on the computer and he was accompanied by none other than Brian, one of the kids I had spent my month of February with! I was half surprised by his presence, but I was glad to see him nonetheless. He had told me he was coming to visit the orphanage at some point, though he never gave a specific date. Katie is also supposed to be arriving soon, but I believe she doesn’t come until the 8<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last few hours of the day were spent catching up with Brian. We both excitedly threw detailed stories of our past travels at each other and reminisced about New Zealand and Fiji, which we both agreed was the most fun month of Rustic so far. Even when he had just come back from Tanzania with Andrew, Steren, and David (who were also on my New Zealand trip) he could say that it couldn’t top New Zealand. That evening, we played an intense game of soccer and ate our fill of the delicious curry Nan had prepared. It wasn’t soon after that I passed out on my bed from exhaustion, but it wasn’t an unpleasant exhaustion. As I went to bed, I felt truly peaceful for the first time in a few weeks.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-59228300168974861682011-05-07T05:42:00.000-07:002011-05-07T05:42:04.398-07:00Realities of Bangkok<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 18-30. Bangkok. Our last stop was in Bangkok, where we spent 3 nights and 4 days. It was quite an environment and culture shock to go from the sunny beaches and blissfully peaceful atmosphere of Krabi to one of the world’s largest bustling cities. We stayed at the Lebua hotel in the State Tower, which failed to break the continuous luxury vacation I found myself in.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have no doubt had my fill of Buddhist temples by now. Our tour guide, Sunny, brought us to the most famous temples of Bangkok, but there seems to be an endless number of these famous temples. Sunny, who is one of the nicest people and tour guides I have had the pleasure of meeting, insisted on describing and giving the history every aspect of each temple. I was only too happy to listen to her, but it did become a little tedious when you’re trudging around Bangkok during the hottest time of the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The temples we visited that, I believe, are worthy of highlight are as follows: the Emerald Buddha in the Grand Palace and the temple of the Reclining Buddha. Each was amazing, but each had their own peculiar features. The Reclining Buddha, for example, was a massive 25 meters and painted in gold leaf. The Grand Palace had decorations of monkey demons slaughtering humans, which I thought were incredibly interesting. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yet, the Emerald Buddha stumped me the most. When I heard that this Buddha was made of nothing but Jade, I thought it would be amazing to see. Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing, but it was a bit misleading. I expected a massive jade Buddha, but when I stepped inside the temple, I had to look hard to find where the Buddha was. There were so many decorative gold pieces that it took a full minute for me to spot the jade Buddha. It stood no taller than a foot at the top of the golden hill. Everyone around me stood in awe, staring up at the Buddha. I didn’t find a foot tall, jade Buddha that impressive, but maybe that’s just my opinion, because it does seem to attract plenty of viewers. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can describe Bangkok as a mix between New York City, Chiang Mai, and Venice. The aspect that it holds of New York is that it is just as crowded and just as cluttered. The aspect of Chiang Mai that it holds is that it’s genuinely Thai, which I found surprising because it attracts so many foreigners. The canals of Bangkok are where Venice comes in.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sunny rented us a longboat one day, and we spent that afternoon zipping through the canals. I’ve been to Venice and I felt as if there was a distinct similarity. The hoses were located directly on the water and instead of cars; the people had boats parked right outside their doors. Vendors floated around on their rowboats trying to sell souvenirs or food to us foreigners, while 4 foot lizards swam past us. Poverty was abundant in this area as well, but it brought out the true nature and beauty of Bangkok. That journey was unforgettable.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our nights were spent in the hotel, swimming in the pool, and sitting atop the State Tower at the Skybar. The Skybar provided a breathtaking sight of Bangkok, but also brought the reality out of the city. The effect of sitting atop one of the highest points of Bangkok, sipping on your 25 dollar drink, and being surrounded by a bunch of rich westerners brings a smug feeling of overwhelming self-importance. I didn’t really need that.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before I knew it, it was time to part ways from my brother and parents. They were going back home, while I was going back to the orphanage. I was half glad to say goodbye to my parents because it seemed that I had lost some of what I had gained. I noticed that I was no longer making decisions for myself as often as I had done in the past 3 months. I had lost some of the independence that made me who I was now and I needed to gain that back. I had also noticed that I had become accustomed to having everything handed to me on a silver platter, and I needed to get back to reality. The other half of me was slightly down. Only after 3 months did I notice how much I missed my brother and I didn’t want to say goodbye to the kid who is my best friend. Yet, while I sat on the plane to Chiang Mai, I noticed something peculiar. While my parents were heading home, so was I.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-63519567727118030162011-05-05T20:54:00.000-07:002011-05-05T20:54:39.816-07:00Riding Giants<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 18-30. Krabi. The island of Krabi is a neighbor of Phi Phi, which conveniently meant that we didn’t need to take another plane, just an hour ferry ride. If my arrival at the island was any indication of the time we had spent there, I would have been miserable. My dad and I were so eager to get off the ferry that we didn’t even realize that we had jumped aboard the wrong longboat, causing us to be separated from my mother and brother. Not until we arrived on the island and walked about a kilometer along the beach to the hotel, with backpacks and the 2 heaviest bags of our family, did we notice our mistake. Will and my mom were sipping tropical smoothies by the pool in their bathing suits when we arrived covered in sweat and with our arms aching. To make matters worse they both informed us that they arrived on an air-conditioned boat on the right side of the island. Now I wasn’t only tired, sweaty, and irritated, but I was also envious.</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The hotel we stayed at for the 4 nights we were in Krabi is called The Rayavadee. There is nothing negative I can say about this stunning area and hotel. The people were uncharacteristically and almost unnaturally nice, for southern Thais that is. The beaches were all stunning, the water was green and warm, the surrounding cliffs were breathtaking and the area flourished with the unexpected. Sometimes a monkey would jump down right in front of you to scurry up another tree and other times a bat would swoop overhead and into one its larger dens. The rooms were 2 story villas made and stocked to perfection and the food was beyond delicious. Honestly, I would have stayed there for another week, even with the prospect of going back to the orphanage.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We embarked on several new adventures during our stay. We did more snorkeling, more rock climbing, and plenty more relaxing on the beach. However, my brother, my father, and I went for a few dives one day. I have to say, there is no other beautiful place to dive, in my opinion, than off the coast of Krabi, Thailand. I didn’t see anything I hadn’t seen before, but the mix of rock, coral, fish, and water was unbelievable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We also went on plenty of hikes around the area, but the most amazing of them was the Big Bat Cave I journeyed into with my dad. True to its name, it was massive. It held plenty of bats, which you could hear fluttering above you as you stepped cautiously through the cave and once at an opening point we were able to cliff jump into the water, which was pretty exhilarating (although it could never compete with The Nevis Bungee).<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of my favorite parts of Krabi, and Thailand itself, was when we rode elephants through the jungle. This was particularly what I had been looking forward to since I came to Thailand, but I never imagined that I’d actually be able to DRIVE an elephant as well. Thai elephants are massive compared to the ones I had seen in Africa, especially the males. When we reached the jungle, our driver turned to me and asked if I wanted to drive the elephant, and who am I to pass up such an occasion? I slid onto its head and uncomfortably sat there for the rest of the journey. The reason why it was uncomfortable is because it was extremely unsteady while the was lifting its head to eat some greens and the elephants head is also one large, rough caliste, and I happened to be wearing shorts on the occasion.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was also able to feed my elephant pineapple. This was pretty amusing considering that I had never fed anything larger than a dog. The elephant snatched the pineapple from my hand as soon as I picked it from the pile. I developed a close relationship with my elephant during this adventure, and I was heartbroken when I was forced to leave and I’m almost sure I saw a small tear trickle down my elephants face when I left as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So my Krabi experience was definitely one of the better ones of Thailand and as I left I wished I could split myself into 4 parts. Part of me wanted to stay, another part of me wanted to continue the journey to Bangkok, the third part of me wanted to go back to the orphanage. The last part of me was a desire that I had not felt since I had started traveling. I wanted to go home. I thought this was strange, because I had just had the best time of my life. Now, I didn’t want to go home because I was tired of traveling or missing the Hamptons. I just wanted to experience what it would be like to go home after all I have done. Well, I guess that time will come very soon, but I hope I experience plenty more of Thailand before it does.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-32399184547981250512011-05-04T01:04:00.001-07:002011-05-04T01:04:35.400-07:00A Paradise Unfit<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 18-30. Phi Phi. From the cities of Chiang Mai came the beaches of Phi Phi in southern Thailand. I had never known there was a distinctive tropical paradise in any part of Thailand, but I experienced such a place. After a 1 hour on a plane and a bumpy boat ride, we arrived on the white beaches of Phi Phi, where the emerald water kisses the fine sand every so often. It was exactly like an ad for Budweiser or one of those cheesy tropical postcards people send each other and that aspect was a little unappealing to me. The only things disrupting this tourist paradise were the dozens of longboats motoring around the island.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The longboats were the taxis of the islands of Phi Phi. They have been used for several decades and used to be similar to rowboats. Now they are equipped with long propellers connected to a car engine. It was a wild sight that I hadn’t become accustomed to even after spending a week around them. We were picked up by one of these contraptions on our way to the hotel. Once we got on the boat we immediately noticed that if the weight of both sides wasn’t precise it would tip to one side and be in danger of capsizing. This was a slight inconvenience, given that we consisted of a 12 year old, two adults, 4 bags of luggage, and me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our hotel was situated right on the beach, so we never took the time to doddle in our rooms. The next few days were spent snorkeling right off the beach, rock climbing the stunning mountain faces, and relaxing on the beach. The snorkeling, in particular, was unique. We were able to see black tipped sharks, sea turtles, moray eels, seahorses, and several varieties of fish just off the beach. On one day we hired a longboater to give us a snorkeling tour of the surrounding islands, but after a while it seemed slightly repetitive. He took us to several tourist locations, each cheesier than the last. The most touristy of them all was Miami Beach, which is improperly and properly named. It is improperly named because it possesses a natural beauty of green waters, perfect sand, and stunning cliffs that a Miami beach cannot compete with. It is, however, properly named because it is filled with so many people that it’s hard to walk peacefully.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The nights in Phi Phi were fun, but also repetitive. The hotel we stayed at put on a fire dancing show every night. It was great to see, but then again if I had stayed for more than 3 nights at the hotel I would have been fed up with it. The food was great, just as Thai food usually is and I finally convinced my father to eat his first piece of fish in the 49 years he has been alive. I was pretty proud of myself after that.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I became more comfortable with my family during these 3 days, to the point where it seemed that the stage of getting to know each other had finally seemed to have dwindled away. I had a blast with them during this time, but time and time again I found myself longing for the experiences I had become accustomed to. Meeting new people, spending time with the friends I had made, sleeping on the floor, and experiencing vast cultures were the things I was used to. Then whenever I thought of this I would tell myself that I’m just on a vacation. Yet, I couldn’t help thinking that this was a sign that, eventually, my adventures will have to come to an end.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-81183476263705699992011-05-01T22:56:00.000-07:002011-05-01T22:56:01.123-07:00The Unexperienced Chiang Mai<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 18-30, Chiang Mai. First off, I want to apologize for the largest gap so far between posts. I had no intentions to leave it hanging like that, but it couldn’t be helped. Between traveling around Thailand with my family by day, I only had enough time for college research by night. Since my college decision deadline was closing in on me, I dedicated a lot of my energy in choosing the right place for my home of the next 4-5 years, but that’s neither here nor there. Don’t worry, however. I’m going to be telling you all about these last 2 weeks of April, location by location. So I’ll just start at where I left off, the Tamarind Village hotel in Chiang Mai.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We spent 2 more days in Chiang Mai and even though I thought I had experienced Chiang Mai to the fullest extent already, I was wrong. The next day we went mountain biking with a company called Mountain Biking Chiang Mai (pretty creative name huh?) I would definitely recommend this company if you were ever to desire an adventure like this. They have 4 different levels, from beginner to expert, great equipment, and friendly staff. I had never mountain biked before, but my dad, my brother, and I chose level 3, while my mom took level 1. We really had no idea what we were getting into, and we were all in for some serious biking.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The trails were exceptionally tough for someone who had never done it before and you could make it even tougher by taking the single track routes instead of the regular route. So I tried the single track. It turned out to be a lot like skiing, only with more rocks, dirt, sweat, and wheels. None of these helped the landing during my wipeouts; although it was still plenty fun. Trying the single track had a few benefits, but the greatest was that it focused my mind more on this new experience rather than rethinking of everything I had thought of last night.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We came down to a lake in the end to find a delicious meal and a gorgeous area to swim in. It was exactly what I needed to soothe my sore muscles. The massage that we received when we came home helped a bit as well. We couldn’t book it through the hotel, so we scouted out our own cheap location. However, just because it was cheap doesn’t mean it wasn’t amazingly soothing. If there is one piece of advice I can give you concerning Thai massages it’s to never pay more than 600 baht (20 dollars) for 60 minute massage. No matter how much they spruce up the description, it all turns out to be just as good. Most places will sell you a massage for 150 baht (5 dollars) so I wouldn’t recommend spending an extra 50 dollars just to get some oil or a few hot rocks on your back. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The days with my family became easier as time went on. I felt more at home with them and we opened up to each other more. It still wasn’t perfect, and it sure wasn’t the same as before, but it was definitely getting better. The next day we walked around Chiang Mai city and I showed them a few temples and exactly what to do at the temples. I actually saw something I had never seen before when I went to visit a temple I had been to before. After I said my prayers, I saw a monk whip out his iPhone and start taking pictures of the altar. I got a great laugh out of that when I remembered the monks I had lived with in China and compared them to this monk.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We had an early dinner before we set out to the Chiang Mai Night Safari. If you ever head out to Chiang Mai, this is another attraction I would recommend. They have everything there. Hyenas, white tigers, alligators, black bears, cheetahs, leopards, panthers, and plenty other crazy cool animals. My brother and I fed the largest freshwater fish in the world, we held baby tigers, and they even put on a light show for us to watch before we left. It was all amazing and when I left, I felt that these next 2 weeks would be better than I had expected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-79215742170178866292011-04-22T08:00:00.001-07:002011-04-22T08:00:21.838-07:00The Most Difficult Experience... So Far<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 17. So I haven’t blogged for about 5 days now, which I apologize for. Although I’m only writing about one day, there are plenty more to come in the very near future. The reason that I haven’t posted anything for so long is because I have been trying to enjoy the past few days, which are more or less a “vacation”. It hasn’t been as easy to enjoy this “vacation” as I would have thought, and here’s why. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today, my parents arrived to visit me. I hadn’t mentioned it in any of my past posts because I was too caught up in writing what had happened to focus on the future. I was excited throughout the day and during the car ride into Chiang Mai, where I was meeting them. We had booked to stay at a hotel for 3 nights, a hotel called the Tamarind Village. It’s a beautiful property, with luxurious rooms and complimentary breakfast, but I was too preoccupied to even notice. I checked into our room, though I didn’t stay long. I lingered in the lobby for an hour before they arrived.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">They arrived from the back entrance, and it caught me completely by surprise. My mother was the first to seize me in a bone crushing hug and then my father and brother were upon me. Seeing them all standing there brought a flood of mixed emotions. I was happy to see them, of course, but their presence was far from comforting. I still stay another week at the orphanage after they leave, but I felt as if my trip was coming to an end. I also didn’t know how to act around them. They didn’t seem to have changed at all, but I felt as if I no longer knew my own family. A few people who have been on similar trips might not have had a similar experience as I did when I saw my family. This trip, however, has flipped my perspective and world upside down, so it was for that reason that I found myself lost for words at their encounter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We brought the luggage into the rooms and then went back to the hotel pool, talking all the while. They, my mom especially, bombarded me with questions about my travels and it was easy to talk about those experiences for a while. Then when it came time to ask them questions and relate to them, it became harder. I had known these 3 people all my life, yet with my new outlook, I felt as if I was meeting new people. It was an awkward experience, followed by an awkward conversation. I didn’t know what to ask or even say, and it’s very hard to explain why. I loved seeing my family, but it was as if I was back in the home where I had left a part of myself I never wanted to see again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My parents left me with my 12 year old brother later on in the pool. This was a bit easier, because he, like me, seems to have changed. He told me that he has now joined a crew team, shaves, and has had his first girlfriend. All this took me completely by surprise, even more so than his deeper voice and developed chin. I was seriously impressed by all this, and we swapped stories through most of the night while we all walked through the night market of Chiang Mai.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I went to bed feeling out of place and in an uncomfortable position. I don’t mean physically, but mentally. I was again being thrown into a situation that I had not dealt with before, but like the ones before this, I wasn’t going to keep myself from making the best of it. I also was unnerved by the luxurious hotel we were staying at. The area around me felt tainted, as if I had left the best part of Thailand behind on the floor I had been sleeping on and I was now one of the worst parts of Thailand, surrounded by falsely comforting sheets and pillows. Going from living in hostels, temples, huts, and orphanages to living in a 5 star hotel is quite a shock and my mind was rebelling against this experience with more ferocity than it had ever done before.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-1113671870319531222011-04-16T07:42:00.000-07:002011-04-16T07:42:01.319-07:00Songkran<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 12-16. I’m just going to keep listing my activities for the past few days because they’ve not only been numerous, but they’ve combined into a 4 day long party and political lunch to top it all off. Probably the most prominent reason why these last few days were so fun was because of Songkran, the Thai New Year celebration. Songkran is a 3 day water festival where you get to waste as much water as you can by dumping it on people. It first started many centuries ago, where elders would sprinkle the heads of family members with water as a sign of good luck. Somewhere in between now and then someone had the brilliant idea to throw the biggest water party ever and continuously splash people for 3 days. This festival is where my story begins.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many towns and cities celebrate Songkran early, and Maesariang is no exception. During the twelfth, most of the staff, their friends, and I went to a waterfall 30 kilometers away from the orphanage. The waterfall was tucked away within the depths of a forest and it took at least a walk of 2 kilometers before we came to the falls. There were two areas in which the whole area would party. One was an actual waterfall with a large face consisting of smooth rock. The other was a 50 foot face consisting of large boulders that seemed to have rolled down the side of the mountain. This area was where we chose to stay.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I did check out the actual waterfall and swam in that area for a bit, but the boulders were much more fun because of the simple fact that you could climb them. Bay and I climbed all the way to the top of the falls, but I can tell you that it was no easy ascent. If I hadn’t just spent a week rock climbing, I doubt I would be here to write this post. The only thing I would have changed about the area was the water level at the bottom. I really would have like to jump down from that height. Sadly, there was only 6 inches of water to break my fall.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next three days were spent throwing water at passing pedestrians, motorcyclists, and cars. During the first day, I joined a couple kids from the orphanage in the back of Yutana’s truck. We loaded it up with huge buckets of water and small pales for throwing the water at passing people. This was the first day of Songkran, so even the streets of Maesariang were wild and crowded. There were water fights between car loads of people, kids on the street, people riding motorbikes, and everything/everyone in between. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That evening I left for Chiang Mai with 4 other staff members. I wasn’t going to give up the chance to experience a massive, city-wide water fight, even if it did cost me three and a half hours to drive there. The next day was chaotic, cold, infectious, exhilarating, and one of the best days of my life. The day was cloudy and one of the coldest I have experienced in Thailand. But carpe diem! We equipped our truck just as we had equipped it yesterday and set out for the city. Even the outskirts were hectic. When we finally came to the river where everyone was celebrating, we started circling the area for prey. The problem was that I turned out to be the prey. A white male standing on a truck bed with chalk war-paint who is yelling at the top of his voice stands out much more than thousands of Thai citizens. Everyone seemed to target me. The worst part of it all was that they all threw ice water, and I was soon shivering from head to foot. As the day picked up, the streets became more and more crowded. It took nearly 4 hours to circle the river area 3 times! Music seemed to be blasting from every corner. Multiple foreigners joined the fray as well and we had 2 Swedish girls on our truck as well. The only reason for me to end this mania was that my legs were in agony from shaking because I had been drenched in ice water so many times. When you experience that realization, you know it’s been a good day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was in such ecstasy as I came back to Maesariang that even the agony couldn’t worry me. The only thing that could dampen my spirits during a Chiang Mai Water Festival was that I forgot to put the memory card in my camera. It depresses me to admit it, but I have no pictures of that day...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The entirety of the next day was spent on the street just outside the orphanage. A few students and I made the most of our last day and threw water at passing motorcyclists and pedestrians. It was fun until a couple people started to retaliate by tossing more ice water, die, and baby powder… that’s when it became awesome. We started blasting our own music, technically my music, and everyone started dancing to hard rock, heavy rap, and some adrenaline pumping techno. Only when the sun dipped below the horizon did we come back inside to escape from our unceasingly wet bodies.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today, I tried to rest as much as possible. That’s, however, impossible to do at this orphanage. One of P.A.’s friends, Took, picked me up for lunch that afternoon. Took is the one who has been driving me around everywhere and she seems to have taken a great liking to me. She constantly invites me to parties and meals at her restaurant, where I have met her entire extended and immediate family. This appointment was one I couldn’t pass up either. I was going to dine with the governor of Chiang Mai province, who is apparently the Thailand equivalent to the governor of California. He is also the son in law of the woman I have been driving around with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We met Mom Luang Panutda Ditssakul at his favorite restaurant in Maesariang. He introduced himself in broken English, but tried his best throughout the entire meal to engage me in conversation, no matter how difficult it was to understand each other. 5 of his business and political associates joined the meal as well, but none tried to speak to me as much as the governor did. He seemed sincerely interested in my travels and my life in America, so, in the simplest English I could speak, I told him of my travels. It was interesting to meet a man of political stature in Thailand and it was nice for him to take such an interest in what I was doing. Soon, however, he turned to his associates and began to converse with them in a serious manner. I didn’t sit in silence for too long, because the meal then ended shortly after.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks again for reading everyone! This has been a hectic 2 weeks, but it’s been as fun as it’s been crazy. Between writing, sleeping, eating, and experiencing life in Thailand, I haven’t had much time to reflect on how much I’ve actually done in this country. When I do, however, you’ll be the first to know. By the way, I’ve also uploaded dozens of pictures from the past 2 weeks and have everything from the temple in Chiang Mai, my second day, to the Songkran Water Festival. Check them out!</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-37141446140327001772011-04-14T07:50:00.000-07:002011-04-14T07:50:02.286-07:00The Best of Thailand: Part 3<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 2-9 part 3. Here is the last addition to the list of experiences that I have had during my first week of the orphanage in Thailand. I will start off with a less recent discovery of mine, how I can phenomenally budget my money, but only in Thailand. The other day I rode my bike to 7-11 and purchased body wash, 3 packs of gum, candy, water, chocolate milk, shampoo, toothpaste, and a new razor. It wasn’t the items that made this purchase so astonishing. It was the price. That list of items cost me 200 baht (6 American dollars). I couldn’t believe it when the cashier rung my price up and I checked the receipt to make sure, but he was right.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My next experience with budgeting was when I was able to buy the entire orphanage, 25 people, ice cream for 250 baht (8 dollars). I was astonished, but it wasn’t over yet. That night, I took the entire staff (10 people) out to an all-you-can-eat barbeque, but it wasn’t a barbeque that you or I would think of. It was more along the lines of fondue. Each table was equipped with a large metal bowl. The center of the bowl was comprised of a single hill of metal, which you could cook meat on. Surrounding the hill was boiling water where you dipped vegetables and certain meats into. There were also several other dishes to choose from, including noodles, ice-cream, fried rice, salad, and Thai desserts. When the bill came, I was again astonished. It cost 750 baht (25 dollars) to feed 11 people.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That night, Doe, Goe, Bowjoe, Samat, and I went out to see a local concert. It was made up of mostly a bunch of guys sitting around and watching young Thai girls’ belly dance and sing. Doe, Goe, and I, however, took up the mantle to start dancing. It wasn’t long before one the girl who was singing spotted me and pulled me up on stage, where I started dancing with six Thai girls in front of a few hundred people. I’d say that’s a pretty great end to a great night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I forget what day it was, but I recently went to a Thai funeral. I didn’t know the person who had passed away, but P.A. did so she decided to bring me along just for the experience. Thai funerals are the complete opposite of American funerals, or at least this one was. The family celebrated the death of their grandmother by giving away tons of food, dancing everywhere, and praising her name as they toasted to her long and fruitful life. When I arrived, I was welcomed as if I was a family member as well. One of the members led me over to her coffin, where I bowed in respect and lit an incense candle. Then they hugged me and lathered me with food and attention. I’ve never heard of a funeral party, but I suspect that’s the closest I will get to experiencing one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My weekend was packed with animal brutality. I witnessed a chicken fight one day with Bowjoe. I spent 4 hours there, most of which were spent waiting for chicken owners to compare chickens and agree to a match. Then I saw the chickens fight nearly to the death. Everyone was screaming at each other to change their bets or up them, and it was a scene of such infectious chaos that I was soon screaming for no reason at all. After the first round, which lasted 20 minutes, the chickens were picked up and mopped up. There was plenty of blood around their heads, and after witnessing one round I didn’t need to stick around for 7 more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day the orphanage celebrated the New Year with slaughtering their pig. This was a depressing experience, but one I witnessed all the less, so I will state this shortly and to the point. While the pig was drinking, one of the orphans brutally swung an enormous club at its head. The helpless pig let out one shrill squeal and the fell the ground. It wasn’t yet dead, so another kid stuck a knife in its heart. It’s an extremely difficult thing to watch a helpless pig thrash on the ground while a knife has impaled it, but soon the pig was dead. Bowjoe washed it down and, with three others, dragged the pig onto a metal grate. They then poured boiling water over its hide and skinned it with nothing more than ordinary kitchen spoons. When the animal was finally nothing but bare flesh, I had to turn away. I left for 2 reasons: 1) I needed to teach an English class that morning 2) I couldn’t stand to keep staring at that skinless pig.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So that’s my first 9 days at the orphanage. I hope you enjoyed them, because I sure did. I’m just about to fall asleep, because my body, my emotions, my adrenaline, and my stamina are at the breaking point (just as they are everyday). I just pulled a foot long lizard out from under my covers, but that surprisingly didn’t faze me as much as it should have. Bugs and lizards have just become part of my normal life, in normal Thailand, on my normal trip. </span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-78181431342761823422011-04-11T19:31:00.001-07:002011-04-11T19:31:25.409-07:00The Best of Thailand: Part 2<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 2-9. So without any ado whatsoever, I will begin where I left off from my last post. On my fifth day here, the whole lot of the kids and I went down to the river, which is about a kilometer from the orphanage. The water was only deep enough for our knees to be submerged, but we lay on our backs and drifted lazily down the river, splashing each other and wrestling as we went. The water was warm and pleasant and provided us with a sanctuary from the sun’s blistering heat. I forgot to mention that it gets to upwards of 100 degrees when the sun reaches its zenith and lingers around 90 degrees all day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have also learned a few new skills while I’ve been here. Not only do I teach the children English, but they teach me several things as well. A muay thai teacher comes on Fridays and Saturdays in order to teach the children self-defense. I jumped in on those lessons immediately. Since I had just come from Kong Fu lessons in China, it only took me an afternoon to catch up with the rest of the class. Muay thai, however, is much different than Kong Fu. Kong Fu is meant to maintain balance and can be used for competitive fighting. Muay Thai focuses on actually being able to “kick someone’s ass” and one of its main uses is for UFC fights.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wiwat teaches me guitar almost every day. I had a basis in it already and could strum a few tunes out, but he has taught me a couple finer points and focuses more on switching from different cords rather than teaching me to play songs. A few of the girls also agreed to teach me some Thai, although the process is fairly slow. Not surprisingly, it’s hard to switch from learning Chinese to Thai in such a short span of time. Another useful trick, which Sawan taught me, is husking a coconut using a machete. It took a couple coconuts and almost cost me a couple fingers, but now I can do it swiftly and accurately.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">With teaching lessons regularly and being taught new things regularly, it’s hard to find time to get out and explore the surrounding area. I have, however, seized every available opportunity to do just that. Bay and I rented bikes out in town one day and have since been using them avidly. He brought me to the market one day, where you could buy anything from car supplies to lingerie for all under 200 bat (6 American dollars). It’s was so incredibly inexpensive that I felt like getting anything I had the slightest inclination to buy, but then I reasoned that it would be hard to send 3 super soakers, 20 t-shirts, a few shoes, and a new T.V. back to the States.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bay also took me to see a museum in town, where I learned about the history of the Karen tribe and their Buddhist traditions. From there we traveled to a temple, atop the highest point overlooking the town of Maesareang. An enormous golden Buddha stood atop the hill, which could be seen from almost anywhere in town.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before the day was over, Bay took me to a forest not too far from the orphanage. There were a few things about these particular woods that I hated. Firstly, the way the branches overhung and overlapped blocked out the sun, plunging the forest into a permanent darkness. Secondly, the ground was nothing but mud, even in the hot season, which made walking with flip-flops pretty frustrating. And lastly, millions of cicadas were chirping on their trees. The overhanging branches seemed to isolate the sound, making it so loud that I could barely hear the squelching of my flip-flops as they were dragged out of the mud.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bay brought with him a net, which I thought was odd, until he started to snatch up the cicadas, one by one. He tossed me the net and I had a go at it as well, but just like everything else he had done, he made it look easier than it actually was. When we finally had around 200 cicadas in a large plastic bag, we rode back to the orphanage, now accompanied by the chirping sound I had begun to despise. I didn’t think much of it when he gave the bag to Tim and he took it away towards the boy’s dormitory. I knew Thai people ate cicadas, but I never knew I would be trying one as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When everyone sat down for dinner that night, they brought the large bowl of cicadas, along with the dinner I had made earlier for myself. Bay popped a couple of cicadas into his mouth immediately, which didn’t repulse me until he offered one for me to eat. Yet, like all the other times I was faced with a difficult challenge, I said to myself “I didn’t travel all this way for nothing.” I pulled off the wings and legs, just as Bay had, and munched down on a cicada. It was like nothing I had tasted before. It was crunchy and bitter, and I’m positive I will never eat one again, willingly that is. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So that’s the end of part 2, and just as I said there might be, I am going to be posting a part 3 by tomorrow. 2 things have happened recently that need to be added to the list, and I assure you that they are pretty entertaining, as well as disturbing for some people. Again, thanks for reading everyone!</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-86341479222708798502011-04-10T03:29:00.001-07:002011-04-10T03:29:33.383-07:00The Best of Thailand: Part 1<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 2-9. A week has passed since I arrived at the orphanage. I have done more during this week than I have since New Zealand. So, in that case, I’m not going write a detailed account of each day. Instead, I’m going to list the events that I have done, in detail, as well as describe the people of the orphanage. I hope this is sufficient for everyone because it is becoming increasingly difficult to find the time or energy to devote to write a day’s worth of events. There are also so many things I have done that I will need to split this post into 2 parts.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So firstly, I must describe the staff and children who have made my time here as exciting as it could be. They are all incredibly accommodating, providing me with whatever I need or they think I need. I barely sit down and start to enter a state of relaxation before they find me and suggest embarking on another exciting adventure. The only time when I am not constantly trying new things or having fun is when I sleep, but even there my roommate, Clash, wants to play games and talk late into the night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The boys spend the most time with me, mainly 3 of them: Ekkphan, Wiwat, and Sawan, all of whom speak relatively good English. Many of them are eager to spend time with me and practice their English. Even during my daily runs, at least one kid accompanies me. The girls, on the other hand, are much shyer, although they become more accustomed to my presence with each passing day. The other day, when I played a game with the girls, they were shy in the beginning, but towards the end of the game they were perfectly fine with shouting orders at me when I broke a rule or played the game wrong. The girls also call me Miji, just as the monk children had done in China. Apparently my Thai name is also two syllables which can easily be confused. When I tried to correct them they just laughed at me and carried on with my new name, though, honestly, I find it pretty funny.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are several Rustic staff members here, but the ones I have become closest with are Bay, Goe, and Bowjoe. Goe is Karen, while Bowjoe is Burmese. They both love taking me out to experience the surrounding town and relish introducing me to local girls from the town. I help teach the children English every day with Tim, who is valuable if I ever want to speak in a regular fashion with someone. The rest of the staff are great to hang around with, although some don’t speak too much English or are just as shy as the girls.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The community service aspect of my trip is being fulfilled every day, except Sundays which are off days for everyone. I teach the kids English with Tim at 9am every morning, educating them in everything from the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">smile</i> to rhyming words to knowing that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ph </i>makes the same sound as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">f</i>. Before noon I help lug away branches that are cut from a forest near the orphanage. Bay and Bowjoe free climb 40 foot trees, with machetes in their mouths, in order to cut the branches from the top. This wouldn’t be difficult if the trees had decent footholds, but the trees they climb are as smooth as palm trees and as straight as pine trees. They both make it seem extremely easy, but it isn’t. On my second day here, I free climbed to the top of one of the trees and hacked down a branch. The climbing and the cutting left me exhausted and I barely had enough energy to slide down the trunk. I also help out with several other odd jobs, such as planting flowers, weeding the mud garden, and picking fruit, which the orphanage grows, although I sometimes take a break and eat a jackfruit or a few local berries.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another daily routine I have fallen into is playing soccer every evening with the kids and staff. They destroy me in skill and it’s hard to say if I even make a difference to any team I am assigned to, but it’s still plenty of fun. Soccer seems to be their favorite sport here and every local is skilled at it, although they do love another sport just as much it seems. Kaneball (the American name for it) is a sport they play avidly at the orphanage. It’s similar to volleyball, but you can only use your feet and head. I’m hopeless at the sport, yet I watch and learn all the same.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The food here is amazing, but can sometimes be unbearably spicy. I need to pay for 1 meal a day, but I am provided with delicious cuisine for every meal. At first, it was uncomfortable to eat specially made food (everyone else eats different food which is cooked in bulk), but since I started to learn to make my own meals and cook them myself, I feel much better about eating the food. The Rustic cook has taught me to make several Thai meals and I usually help her cook them when I’m not busy. I’ve learned to make paka poa, sweet sticky rice with mango, yellow curry, green curry, bla lap pri, and several other dishes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And so, this ends the first part of the list of activities I’ve done during my first week at the orphanage. Tomorrow I’ll post part two, but don’t be surprised if there is a part 3. I will probably be reminded of more things I have done since I’ve been here. The days have become so entwined, and everything I’ve done has happened so quickly, that it’s hard to distinguish one event from another. Thanks for reading everyone! Hope you enjoy this post. </span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-67268217231023481572011-04-06T21:19:00.000-07:002011-04-06T21:19:32.074-07:00An Unexpected Meal and a Chaotic Introduction<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 2. I ended yesterday’s post earlier than I would normally have done, but it was because I ended the night with anther cab ride and falling asleep at the base. This morning, however, was much more eventful. Bay and Yutanna, the orphanage manager, drove me to Lotus this morning. Lotus is similar to a Wall-Mart, except it has an aisle dedicated to street food. Although the cooks aren’t cooking the food on the street, I still consider it street food because they are cooking their produce exactly how street vendors normally do. I picked up some Thai noodles, but I am disappointed to say that they cannot compare to Chinese noodles, in my opinion. Their thin, tasteless noodles, spicy broth, and large meatballs didn’t really do it for me, but that could just be the result of some peculiar taste buds. I also picked up a soccer ball when Bay told me that the orphanage didn’t own a regular sized one and I was able to buy it for less than 70 bat (roughly 2 American dollars). Then we were finally able to hit the road for a three hour drive to the orphanage.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We stopped twice along the way there and both breaks took at least an hour. Our first stop was to buy flowers to plant at the orphanage. Who knew bargaining the price of a lotus flower would take 45 minutes? Our second stop was for lunch, which turned out to be pretty interesting. We again bought street food, but I chose my own meal this time (I have since let Bay recommend meals for me to try). I bought sticky rice and pork sausage. Yutanna wanted to eat at a restaurant, where Bay and I happily joined him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I started to eat my own lunch, Yutanna offered me a barbequed egg. It was delicious and I ate at least three of them before I ate my food. The rice was particularly delicious and the sausage was flavorsome, yet there was a strange taste to each one. When I mentioned this to Bay he let out a poorly stifled snigger. “What’s so funny?” I asked. When he didn’t say anything I asked again, a bit more suspiciously. He burst of laughing and said “How did you like your brain sausage?” I laughed along with him, thinking he was just pulling my leg. “Brain? You’re hilarious… but seriously, what’s with the taste?” I asked. He laughed again and said “Main ingredient is brain, I’m serious.” It was hard to believe, but I knew he wasn’t lying. At that moment, I realized I had eaten brain for the first time in my life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Feeling slightly repulsed, I spent the next 2 hours trying to doze off. We finally arrived at the orphanage, and contrary to my original belief, it is not in the middle of nowhere. It’s located near the town of Maesariang, yet the vast, open rice fields surrounding the orphanage create a feeling of total isolation. I arrived at 7pm and since it was dark, I wasn’t able to make out anything other than the fields and the 3 large buildings I was first introduced to.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The largest and main building is the Big House, which holds the class areas and the girls’ dormitory on the second floor. Directly south of that are 2 buildings, one is the boys’ dormitory and the second is the kitchen/dining hall. They had already eaten dinner by the time I arrived, and I didn’t possess much of an appetite after lunch anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Rustic staff came out immediately to introduce themselves. I met the cook, a Burmese staff member, another local Thai member, and a western staff member. It was hard to pronounce everyone’s name at the time and the only one I can manage to remember was Tim, the westerner.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In order to introduce me to the orphans, and to break the ice, Tim organized a game. All 25 of us gathered in a circle in the Big House. We went around the circle, introducing ourselves and repeating each other’s names in return. It was impossible for me to remember the names of Ekkphan, Mayuree, Sawang, Witwat, and Jaruwan, but I tried my best. Everyone introduced themselves in impressively good English and even stated where they were from and what their favorite food was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Afterwards, Tim provided us with another game. He handed us all balloons and rubber bands and instructed us to fill the balloons with air and strap them to our feet. Then, when everyone had finished and looked quite ridiculous, Tim told us to try to pop on everyone’s balloon and the last three would receive ice cream. Pandemonium occurred as everyone rushed around the enclosure, pinning each other in place, teaming up on helpless youngsters and trying their best to destroy their opponent’s balloon. My feet throbbed after 10 minutes of countless kids stamping on my feet and I soon lost in the competition. I sat on the sidelines with the other people who had gotten out and laughed out loud with everyone else. It was hysterical to see so many adults and kids running around and stamping on each other’s feet, with all dignity forgotten.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When a few kids had finally been named champions and received their ice cream, it was time for bed. I was then led to my room in the boys’ dormitory building. I will be rooming with another orphan, who calls himself Clash. He’s a small, rambunctious boy of about 12, but he was helpful in showing me the bathroom and providing me with a fan for these hot and humid nights. When he showed me our room, I wasn’t surprised to see a small room with two thin cots on the floor. By now I am used to sleeping on hard surfaces, the cot did almost nothing to alleviate the stiffness of the floor, and I graciously lay down on the bed where I will sleep for the next 2 weeks. Clash went to sleep almost immediately after giving me the grand tour, but I stayed awake, reading late into the night. I couldn’t fall asleep because every so often, when I tried to lay down my book, I would realize where I was and how fortunate I am to be in this situation. That thought kept me up late, but sooner or later, I dozed off, still clutching my book in my hands.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-45534137571617076052011-04-05T08:38:00.001-07:002011-04-05T08:38:03.349-07:00Thailand<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">April 1. When I awoke this morning, I was surprised to see Chatchai and Bay sleeping on the floor in the one roomed base house. They had nothing but pillows for comfort and I felt guilty for having taken the only bed. After I had changed into shorts and a t-shirt, they both woke up. Bay asked if I wanted to experience my first Thai meal and I responded with a curt nod, still too groggy to speak aloud. Bay and Chatchai had slept in their clothes so they walked outside at once.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Around the corner was a small market, where we ate, with half of its shelves empty or scarcely containing anything. We sat down near the kitchen stove and Bay called out for 3 orders of paka poa. I had never had paka poa so I was slightly nervous to see what I would find on my plate. In the meantime, I talked with Bay about his past and how he came to be with Rustic. He explained that he was of the Aka tribe, but most of the orphans were of Karen decent. He told me of how he had never finished 9<sup>th</sup> grade and worked as a bus boy before he was picked up by Rustic Pathways at the age of 19. They put him through English classes and gave him a job as a trip manager. When he had finished his story, our food had arrived.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paka poa is made up of spicy basil, chilies, pork, an egg, and rice. It is also one of the most delicious dishes I have had in a while. Although it felt as if my mouth were on fire, I still ate every last scrap of the 2t orders I requested. I had never been so thirsty in my life afterwards and must have drunk at least 4 liters of water before we set out from the restaurant. Then Bay asked me if I wanted to into town and tour a traditional Buddhist temple. When I asked him about going to the orphanage, he told me that since the Rustic driver won’t be here until tomorrow, we need to stay in Chiang Mai for another day. I was all for going to the temple, so Bay called the driver from the day before and we were there in 30 minutes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The temple was situated on the top of a mountain that overlooked the entirety of Chiang Mai and is one of the last temples in this area. We walked up several steps until we came to the statue of a renowned monk. Chatchai and Bay bowed in prayer to the statue and I followed suit. 400 stairs later, we had arrived at the top. My jaw dropped when I saw the beautiful mountain of the gold plated temple that was set at the mountain’s peak. Surrounding it, were several tourists and worshipping areas. Taking off our shoes, we strode into the area, but Chatchai told me I needed to walk around the temple 3 times before I could walk around freely. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After the walk, Bay led me to the area of luck. We bowed 3 times to a large Buddha and then took a container full of sticks from the floor. Bay instructed me to shake the container hard until a few sticks fell out, then I was to pick a stick from the floor and take a piece of paper that matched the number on the stick. I received the number 26 and took the piece of paper that would describe my luck. Apparently I’m very lucky and good things will come my way. Bay, on the other hand, had dreadful luck, according to his paper, and Chatchai had neutral luck, with everything staying as it was. Bay moaned as he read his aloud and Chatchai when read his aloud, he just walked away looking supremely unconcerned.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Afterwards, we walked to the largest of the Buddhas and bowed 3 times. Then we crawled over to a monk surrounded by several hundred, white bands of yarn. When I looked closer, I realized they were simple bracelets. We bowed 3 times to him as well and bowed our heads in prayer as he sprinkled water on us. Bay held out his right arm, which I did as well, and the monk placed a bracelet on each of our wrists. We crawled back, bowed 3 times to the statue, and exited the area. “Don’t take it off for 3 days or you will have bad luck.” Bay said. I grinned at him and said “Doesn’t matter for you. You’re already doomed.” He punched me playfully on the arm and we walked back down to the van.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before we piled into the van, I grabbed a quick bite to eat from the street vendors. Eating street food has become part of my daily life and it didn’t faze me as it would have during my first week in China. I picked up some pineapple and green mango, but what surprised me was that the vendors handed me small packets of red and white powder as well. “It’s sugar and chili.” Bay explained. When I tried some with the pineapple I was hit by a sensation of overly sweet and overly spicy fruity flavor. Never before had I tasted anything this pungent and I stopped eating it after that one try, content with regular, plain fruit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We came back to the base house and relaxed for a while until nightfall, during which Bay napped and Chatchai showed me his Dreamweaver software while he played some Thai rap. At around 5pm, Bay awoke and asked if I wanted to go to the night market. Again, I was all for it. This time, however, we couldn’t take the van because the driver was out to dinner. So we walked out of our safe district and onto the highway trying to flag down a taxi.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The taxies in Chiang Mai are inconvenient for several reasons. For one, there are too few of them to go around. For another, they are red trucks with closed backs containing very uncomfortable seats for you to sit on. But the most inconvenient aspect of them is the drivers, who insist on taking the bumpiest and windiest roads possible in order take the speediest route. We walked down the high way for an hour until we finally caught sight of, and then waved down one of the few taxies. Then we sat on their metal barred seats for 45 minutes, frequently swerving and bumping into one another.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Walking around Chiang Mai is a lot like walking around any American city. There are plenty of people, it’s loud and can sometimes be unpleasant, and there are plenty of designer stores waiting to sell you pointless merchandise. The only difference is that the sidewalks are filled with shops. They are mainly there for tourists, of course, but there are plenty of cheap clothing stores and food vendors for locals to enjoy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We stopped at one such vendor who tried her best to make it feel like a restaurant, taking a table and chairs and parking them literally on the sidewalk. We ate some real, unforgettable Thai curry that night. It was better than anything I had ever had while back in the U.S. I ate until I started to hate myself for eating so much, but it was too good to pass up. Afterwards, we roamed the streets, stopping here and there to look at an item or buy a t-shirt or cologne for Bay and Chatchai. I didn’t buy anything that night. There will be plenty of time later on to worry about souvenirs. For now, I’m just trying to soak up as much of Thailand as I can.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-58776336702643385462011-04-05T01:17:00.000-07:002011-04-05T01:17:24.065-07:00The Beginning of the End<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 31. An air of excitement surrounded me as I awoke this morning to pack. Leung was already up, watching TV. He gave me a bright and cheery “Good morning!” as soon as I stumbled out of bed, but I wasn’t fooled. As soon as he turned his head away I saw his shoulders lower in sadness and he let out an audible sigh. After I was packed and ready for my flight, we had breakfast at the hotel. I loaded my plate with sweet dumplings and noodles, intent on eating as much Chinese food as I could before arriving in Thailand. Before I knew it, it was 11am and Leung was waving down a taxi to take me to the airport.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Leung dragged my suitcase (now packed to its capacity) towards the check-in line when we arrived at the airport. I tried to carry the bag myself, but he snatched it away from me, not unkindly, saying “You need to be comfortable before you arrive in Thailand.” So we came to the check-out counter and realized that I couldn’t receive my boarding pass for another hour. I sat down near the counter, completely prepared to spend an hour alone, but Leung refused to leave before he had seen me through security. I was touched by his kindness and spent the next hour reminiscing the past month and talking about his future in China and Cambodia. Leung’s presence made the time fly by and all too soon I had my boarding pass in hand and I was waving him goodbye. Now that I think back on it, he looked utterly miserable when I left, but I was too excited to realize at the time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I flew to Bangkok, I wanted nothing more than to share my experiences with someone else. I wanted to voice everything that had occurred in the past 2 months, the changes I have noticed within myself, and my expectations of the next month. I turned to the person next to me, who was a westerner, and asked the usual conversational questions. After a while, we began to discuss what brought us to Thailand. I gave a brief overview of my travels, hoping to expel some of my experiences, and she seemed politely interested at first. She asked a few questions and I eagerly gave details, but after about 5-10 minutes on the subject, she switched the conversation abruptly. She didn’t contribute to what I was saying and she didn’t seem as interested in my travels as I had expected. I pondered this while she rambled on about her studies in business in Alabama and her mother’s treatment for a staph infection, which is what brought her to Thailand (I say ‘rambled’ because business doesn’t particularly interest me and a staph infection is not typically serious). Then I remembered something that Erik had once said to me on one of the first days I was in New Zealand. “When you go home, don’t expect your friends to hang on your every word as describe your travels. They probably have nothing to compare it to, so they won’t understand what this has meant to you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At first, that meant nothing to me, because I had barely begun my experiences. But now I fully appreciate his words. I could have sat with that woman and given her every detail over the past 2 months and explained every emotion that I had felt. Yet, she wouldn’t have been able to imagine everything I have gained. Even now, when I write at least a page a day, I can’t explain to you the difference between how I was 2 months ago and how I am now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This wonderful realization, it was wonderful because I knew this trip was beyond anything I could have hoped for, kept me thinking until I had landed, and the happiness did not die within me when I stopped pondering it. I continued to my connecting flight to Chiang Mai, though I couldn’t resist stopping at a Burger King on the way there. Then, an hour later, I was whisked away to Chiang Mai, though I had barely time to finish a chapter in my Lord of the Rings book before I landed, yet again, 1 hour later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I picked up my baggage went out to meet the Rustic Pathways staff who would take me to the orphanage. When I didn’t see them, I planted myself down on the ground and waited, blissfully content as I read my book. 30 minutes passed before two small, muscular Thai men approached me and asked if I was Jimmy Mack. When I said “Yes.” they immediately began apologizing profusely that traffic had held them up, which caused them to be late. This reminded me of when I had met Leung and I immediately knew I would be friends with both these guys. They introduced themselves as Bay and Chaichai and hauled my luggage towards their van, just as Leung had this morning, and just like Leung, they refused to let me carry my bags. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Both of these guys spoke reasonably good English and it wasn’t hard to have a conversation with either of them, though it took longer than normal because I needed to pronounce my words with care. I soon learned that Chaichai is an orphan of 19 years old who is staying in Chiang Mai for the week to study website developing. Bay is 24 and has worked with Rustic for 5 years now. Bay constantly asked me if I was hungry, but since I had already eaten, I politely refused his offer each and every time. Bay also told me that we would be staying at the Rustic base in Chiang Mai because the orphanage is over a 3 hour drive. I was fine with this and we soon arrived at the one room building that was the base house. Bay and Chaichai could probably tell that I was exhausted because they said goodnight after showing me inside and went to grab some dinner. Without bothering to undress, I lay on the one bed and, I’m guessing, fell asleep instantly. </span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-14939966580032807432011-04-03T03:39:00.000-07:002011-04-03T03:39:58.766-07:00Too Eager for the Future to Enjoy the Present<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 30. Today felt as if I hadn’t lost a single person in my group. We started out with 5 members, and we were ending with 5 members (Dane, Adam, and Dane’s girlfriend who joined us this morning). There were still plenty of people to talk to and plenty of experiences to be shared. The prospect of only having to stay in China for another day was probably a factor that kept my spirits high as well. Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed every moment in China, from my tedious classes to my Kong Fu lessons at the Buddhist temple. The one drawback is that I have been stuck in the city for the past month. The occasional scenes of wilderness and mountain ranges don’t quell my longing to see and enjoy vast, open country sides and lush forests that are so abundant in China.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So my eagerness to set out for the wilderness of Thailand consumed most of my thoughts today. Even when I climbed a 5-10B route, for the first time, I could not keep my mind off what lay ahead of me in the coming month. I spent most of the day talking to Leung who, with each passing moment, became sulkier. I suspected that he was starting to get lonely and was dreading the goodbye and my suspicions were confirmed when I asked him why he was standoffish today. He said “You and me are best pals man! Saying goodbye will suck… How about I visit you in America?” I grinned at him and said “That would be A.O.K. Leung.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The rest of the day was spent out in Kunming. I used most of this time to buy various items that I will need for Thailand. It was with ill-disguised cheeriness that Leung agreed to help me with this venture. Then I came back to the hotel and began to type up a post (I’m sure you’ve noticed that I am behind a few days). Leung decided to go out with his friends in Kunming and I was left with my thoughts about Thailand, my reflections on the past month, and my computer.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-47572929022640248002011-04-01T09:49:00.001-07:002011-04-01T09:49:34.149-07:00A Few Unfortunate Events<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 28 & 29. The schedule for the next 3 days consisted of nothing but climbing the sides of enormous mountains until our fingers were blistered and our feet were raw from our cramped shoes. We met Adam and Dane on the morning of the 28<sup>th</sup> outside Sunny Lodge. Adam pulled up in his small Nissan and the idea that he would fit 5 people and our luggage into the car. None of us were looking forward to the 4 hour drive to Kunming. As we shoved our bodies, bags, and sulky attitudes into the car, we noticed a slight dip in the level of the car. When I turned to look out the window I noticed the back right tire was completely flat. That was the first sign that this would be a good day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We spent nearly an hour trying to change the tire, but it turned out to be the most inconvenient tire in existence, because we couldn’t pull it off the car after we had unscrewed it. In the end, Adam took it to a shop, leaving us on the curb for the next hour and a half. Some of the things a bunch of guys talk about while sitting on a curb are absurd and hilarious. I’m not saying it was profane, but it was entertaining.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We ended up walking to the shop anyway and, with a new tire, drove for the next few hours to Kunming, a journey that surpassed my uncomfortable expectations. I tried to doze off during the day, but was constantly awoken by a jerk of the car as Adam weaved through traffic, which how most Chinese citizens drive. 4 hours later we arrived in Kunming, but our day of misfortune was not yet over. As Adam pulled into a parking spot he slammed right into a car approaching from his rear. The other driver stormed out of his car, livid, and started shouting at Adam. Adam shouted back in a similar manner and they both began to compare the damage of their cars, which turned out to be nonexistent. Both cars were unscratched, but that did not deter the other driver from yelling at Adam and forcing him to stay put while he called the police. Not wanting to get involved, Erik, David, and I went into the restaurant where we planned to meet Leung.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">An hour later, Adam arrived in the restaurant explaining that all the other driver wanted was money from a foreigner. The police saw how ludicrous the situation was at once, and sped on their way, but not before the other driver became desperate enough to yank off part of his own front bumper in an attempt to display any sign of damage to the car. Yet another fine example of local Chinese citizens trying to take advantage of tourists.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day proved to be a slightly better day, but not by much. We planned to rock climb one last time before David and Erik left for Tanzania (they are leaving earlier than expected and I will be left with Leung until the 31<sup>st</sup>). We traveled to a ravine with great climbing routes, and I tried my hand at climbing a 5-10A, which supposedly was long thought to the extent of the human limit of rock climbing before someone proved that humans could climb more challenging routes. I didn’t break once. However, my hands were utterly useless afterwards and I didn’t dare climb again because I still had one more day to enjoy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We ate dinner in Kunming again, but this time we ate locally, for it was David and Erik’s last Chinese meal before Tanzania. We ate greasy potato pancakes, smelly tofu (which is its real name), and soggy vegetables with rice. Afterwards, Erik had time to hang out in our hotel before setting out to the airport. During this time we reminisced about our last 2 months together. We had not done this in a long time and it brought back wondrous memories, as well as a lump as sadness. I said goodbye to David and Erik after an hour of chatting, but I was too exhausted to feel that this was really goodbye. I had become close to Erik, but I doubt I will miss him too much in my next month. We didn’t have too much in common, although he was a great friend and an impeccable story teller. David, I will see again, because he lives an hour away from my home town. Quite convenient, don’t you think? So, without the heavy weight of loss in my heart, which had haunted me almost exactly 1 month ago, I fell into a peaceful sleep that night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks so much to everybody who has been posting comments on my blog. I have heard from a few followers that it is difficult to post comments due to Blogger’s settings and I apologize for this inconvenience. I hope you are still enjoying keeping up to date with my travels as much as I enjoy experiencing them. I also posted new pictures to my Picasa album. Hope you enjoy them as well!</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-18540685229599131652011-03-30T06:03:00.001-07:002011-03-30T17:42:24.665-07:00Climb Dali<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 26 & 27. Now I’m starting to enjoy the continuous activities being planned for these last 2 weeks, which was what I had become accustomed to last month. We met with Adam and Dane, our rock climbing guides, at Adam’s house in Dali. It was only a 10 minute walk from Sunny Lodge, but after dragging a luggage bag packed with 4 months of clothing and materials through cramped, windy streets, I would consider it more of a hike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Adam, who lives in Dali with his wife and son, owns a rock climbing company called “Climb Dali”. Dane agreed to accompany him on this trip, although he doesn’t usually work for Adam. Both being expert and enthusiastic climbers, they wasted no time in fitting us with climbing shoes as soon as we arrived. Then we picked up some provisions for lunch (mostly peanut butter and bread) and packed into a taxi van. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The ride was only an hour long to Saoang and we were soon setting down our things in the hostel that we would be staying in tonight. Adam led the away from the hostel, trekking from the streets of Saoang to the trails on the surrounding mountain. As the bright, blood colored dirt was kicked up into my face, I turned my head and studied the surroundings. The trees had been replaced by rough, desert bush and cacti and instead of locals staring curiously at my pale figure, cows were munching on grass as their bells rattled against their hides. This mountain was significantly different from the mountain I had climbed in Dali, almost an exact opposite.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we finally reached the ridge we would be climbing, Adam and Dane laid down the supplies and handed us harnesses. As we slid them and our climbing shoes on, Adam and Dane climbed the first ride to set up the anchors for the climb. The first one was extremely easy for Adam, who had not only climbed it almost 150 times, but had discovered and cleaned the route as well. He stated it was a good warm-up run, which was lucky for me because I hadn’t done any serious climbing since I was around 12 or 13. In fact, Adam told me, with an air of modesty and pride, that he had discovered and cleaned the entire ridge, totaling in about 50 routes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I was the first to climb the beginner route, but I found that it wasn’t difficult at all. It was more or less like climbing an indoor rock climbing wall and the climbing shoes made it that much easier. Their rubber traction allowed me to place my foot on the tiniest holds and stand their comfortably. While Erik belayed me, Dane and Adam set up a couple more routes for us. They all turned out to be relatively easy, but they were progressively more difficult. Some had a few difficult holds and others had ridges that you needed to climb up at a 150 degree angle, but there were several rest spots. When I repelled down on my last climb, I noticed that my knees were cut in several places and my fingers were numb with pain. I hadn’t even noticed my discomfort during the concentration of my 5 climbs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We took a break after that, intent on eating our fill of peanut butter, bread, and apples. During this lazy period, I watched Adam climb a 5-11a route with awe (Dane described the grading system to me during our hike up the mountain). He placed his hands such unlikely holds and continuously lodged his feet in the smallest of cracks and juts. At one point he was almost directly upside down, climbing with all his strength and skill. As I watched him put one leg over another, I spotted a hold that looked dangerously crumbly. I was just about to warn him not to grab onto it when he lunged out and grasped the hold. It immediately shattered in an explosion of red rock and Adam fell towards the earth. Dane’s reflexes and superior experience was the only thing that saved Adam from death. He bounced literally 6 inches from the ground, but, thankfully, never made contact. Adam tried this route again, and when he finally reached the top, he came up with an appropriate name for the route: 6 inches from 6 feet under. That, I thought, clearly stated just how dangerous climbing can be. After all our fingers were nearly bleeding with the pain of climbing, we headed back down to the village for a dinner readily prepared at the hostel, a warm, welcoming shower, a wooden bed, and a roommate who snored relentlessly through the night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day was one that I was not looking forward to. Although we did enjoy a kayaking adventure that occupied most of the morning, Christen left in the afternoon and the only other enjoyable part of the day was when I made the most of my last night in Dali. We went kayaking in groups of 3s and didn’t finish until noon. By far, the funniest part of the day was Leung teetering into his kayak (which he had never done before) until he sat, became situated by shifting his forcibly weight, and made the kayak flip completely upside down, which left him struggling under water. Thankfully, he was a capable swimmer and came up sputtering and shivering. He refused to continue after that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our car ride back to Dali wasn’t fun. We crammed into the largest van Saoang could provide, and even that was too small to occupy 7 people, 5 bags of luggage, and 7 backpacks. My afternoon in Dali was spent walking around with David and Christen, just making the most of the time left before we all parted our separate ways. All too soon, Christen was saying her goodbyes and I was telling her that I would see her back home. Leung took her to Kunming, which left Erik, David, and I to fend for ourselves for the next 24 hours. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We ate beef steaks at Café De Jack, ordering our favorite meal at our favorite western restaurant. Then we came back to Sunny Lodge, where Erik was forced to organize our receipts for the last month. Wanting to spend my time doing something, and because the prospect of doing nothing was unbearable, I suggested to David that we meet up with a few of the people we had met earlier at the Café. Probably because he was too exhausted, or because he was pondering his next month in Tanzania, David refused to accompany me. That didn’t deter me from going out however. I took a taxi to the café, which took longer than I thought because it is extremely difficult to use proper mandarin (all provinces have their own versions of mandarin) to explain where you are trying to go. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I arrived and hung out with everybody until most were forced to say goodnight due to their studies tomorrow morning. All except Amanda and me were left. She is 18 and doesn’t have a curfew, so we went out to Dali and spent the most of the night talking and playing pool at the Sunny Lodge. When Amanda finally said she had to leave, I walked back to the room, but found that it was empty. I peered through the window of my room and saw David and Erik dancing in the bar of the Sunny Lodge. Smiling to myself, and half wishing I was 18 so I could join them, I slipped into bed and fell asleep, probably with that same silly grin spread on my face.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-60973770807101777052011-03-26T23:17:00.000-07:002011-03-26T23:17:51.809-07:00Loss of Composure<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 24 & 25. I know I could stay here for 30 years and still not know everything about Kong Fu, the monk lifestyle, and the monastery itself. There is a plethora of knowledge to be gained here. It is so vast that sometimes I need to stop and calm the violent currents of information buzzing in my head. Learning Kong Fu is more about increasing and maintaining your balance than increasing your fighting skills. Although I’m sure it does help in self-defense, I doubt that if you displayed the different forms of Kong Fu in front of an opponent that he would be running away in fear by the end of the routine. During my last full day of lessons I gave it my all and pushed my muscles and strength to the limit, which seemed to impress the master, but it also made me thoroughly exhausted by the end of the day. I fell asleep at 7:30 that night, intending to take a well-earned nap, but instead I slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day I was forced to take Tylenol in order to cope with the pain of walking. I had never felt more worn out in my life. I started the morning run early, intent on regaining some of the energy needed to get me through the half-day of Kong Fu. I chose a smaller rock than I ever had, now trying to preserve the energy I had just gained. When I arrived back at the temple I practiced every position I had been taught so far. By the time I had finished my routines, Master had come back from his run and he was ready to teach me additional steps in Kong Fu.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then came the blissful sound of our cook banging on the breakfast bell. I was delighted to see the layout of the enormous sweet dumplings when I walked through the dining room door. I concentrated on nothing but eating my way through 5 of the heavenly treats. Afterwards, I slumped back upstairs and massaged my legs before the next round of exercise.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next 2 hours of stretching went by in a hazy blur. I only remember following exactly what everyone else was doing. Wasting energy to even think would have been detrimental to my stretching, and Master must have guessed as much because he ended today’s session earlier. We had an hour to spare before lunch. I amused myself by playing with the kids on the outside exercise ground. There, we climbed trees and hung upside down from their pull-up bars. At one point they made a small ramp, where they would launch themselves off the ground and perform flips and kicks in the air. They tried every variation of their flips they could think of; they once wore pink glasses pretending to be airplane pilots, another time they held a stick and tried to draw a circle in the ground while doing a no handed cartwheel, and they even made me sit near the ramp before flipping clear over my head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">During lunch I was able to converse with everybody more than I had done during breakfast. This was our last meal before leaving the monastery, so I hungrily gobbled up every scrumptious morsel I could reach. Immediately after lunch Leung and Erik arrived in the taxi to pick us up. We were just about to say goodbye to Master when he stopped us and said “We must take pictures!” Leading us off to the outside terrace, he made us perform several poses in Kong Fu while he snapped away happily. Erik and Leung watched with grins on their faces, obviously amused to see Master so enthusiastic. Then we were allowed one picture with Master, the only picture we were ever able to get of him because he never allowed us before. It is strictly enforced to make sure the foreigners take one picture with Master and none of any other monks. It is also customary to not smile during these photos, but I couldn’t resist. While Christen and David stood beside him unsmiling, I stood in the back of the photo and grinned broadly as I put up surfer signs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We said our goodbyes to Master and were just about to enter the van when I remembered something and ran back to the temple. I wanted to say one last goodbye to the monk children. I entered their room and narrowly missed a ninja star that was thrown towards the wall. They all laughed and yelled “Mi Ji!!!” (they flip the two words in my Chinese name sometimes). I said goodbye to each of them, but then one kid (who I nicknamed Godzilla) pulled out my camera and said “Picture!” I was stunned by his proposal, but nevertheless took the opportunity. I snagged a quick picture with them, although they barely cracked a smile during the photo, and ran back to the van.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We arrived back at the Sunny Lodge in Old Dali to spend the night there. I have already bought souvenirs and I have wandered almost every street in the town, so I doubt I will be going out anytime soon. I plan on relaxing in the sun and reading for most of the afternoon and maybe taking a shower (after not being able to take one after nearly 5 days). One thing is for certain, however. I am indefinitely inhaling a beef steak tonight.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-49967038240279328992011-03-24T19:54:00.001-07:002011-03-24T19:54:20.489-07:00Weapons of Flesh and Steel<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 23. I started the morning with another glorious session of bell ringing and chanting. I curled up in the sanctuary of my covers and blasted music through my headphones in the hope of drowning out the noise. However, it was in vain. I could still feel the bell’s vibrations in my chest and it distracted me from my sleep. Groaning, I stood up and was immediately hit by a wave of pain. Every muscle in my body ached. They protested my slightest movements and I was forced to sit back down and massage the will to move into my body. I tried for a second time and to my relief the pain had receded slightly, yet was still ever present. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My morning run went well enough until, due to the urging of my Master, I carried a larger rock on my head than yesterday. It made my neck muscles burn more than ever and my head throbbed when I finally lay down the small boulder. Then, during the 30 minutes before breakfast, we were taught new segments of Kong Fu. It all seems to come together after a while and I become confused at times between one position and the next. Though, with plenty of practice, I’m sure I’ll be able to memorize them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I devoured the breakfast of noodles, onions, carrots, and tofu. Again, I wasn’t disappointed, mainly due to the replacement of meat with tofu. I’m sure if the tofu was anything less than the quality it is now, I would be praying to Buddha to send me a steak. After breakfast we performed our stretches and various exercises. Even after one day I am able to remember most of the exercising positions, although I couldn’t execute them as vigorously as before. My muscles still shot a jolt of pain through my body during kicks and cartwheels. During this session I kept glancing over at one of the monk children who stood resolutely still with a 30 pound rock on his head. He constantly looked forward and his eyes never wandered. He stood as still as a statue for the entire 3 hours. I asked one of the other children what he was doing and his answer was short and contained copious amounts of disapproval. “His punishment for insulting Master.” He said. I didn’t inquire further on the subject.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lunch was short today because I was still full from breakfast, but I still sat and waited for at least one person to finish their meal. Ella, a foreigner of about 21 years old, was the first to be finished and, following the rules of etiquette, we said “R Me Tofo.” to the Master and left together. After washing our bowls, Ella asked me if I wanted to see the rest of the temple. “There’s more than just this?” I asked as I gestured to our surroundings. Nodding, she led me outside and we walked about the property. There were several paths leading in almost every direction and she led me down the first one on the right. We came to a pond with a large blank, white wall except for a border of decorations and a single picture in the middle. Then we walked to a field for practicing Tai Chi and Kong Fu in the summer. From there she led me to the Master’s house, which was exceptionally decorated with gardens of beautiful spring flowers. Finally, we came to the main temple. I had suspected that the temple we resided in was the main one, but apparently not. The golden characters labeled it as such and the enormous golden statue that resided inside reinforced the fact. It was a gorgeous area. Even the temples shown in movies couldn’t compare with this one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We passed the time talking and comparing stories of our travels until it was time to continue our training. I learned several more positions of Kong Fu. I wondered how many more positions were involved in it, because if there are several more than I doubt I will be able to memorize it in 5 days. The ones we had learned now almost took 5 minutes to complete. I politely asked Master to perform this segment of Kong Fu. He completed it in roughly a minute with incredibly fluid, yet powerful movements. I couldn’t even keep track of which positions he was doing, but it seemed as if we weren’t too far away from the end. Then we finished our training with stretches and push-ups (which they do with their fists here). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was ravenous during dinner and ate everything in my bowl including all the leftovers on the table. Afterwards, Ella and her family had to leave for the next leg of their journey and I said my farewells to them all. Then, as I wandered around aimlessly for something to do, I ran into several of the monk children and they brought me into their room to talk about America. I was surprised to learn that they knew of Batman, Superman, Spiderman, Hulk, Transformers, and most every other superhero or action character I had grown up with. Hit with a spark of inspiration, I ran to my room and grabbed my iphone, some chocolate, and the ninja star. I first handed them the chocolate (although, just to make sure, I asked if they were vegans and they stated that they ate meat), which they loved and ate with a gleam of pleasure in their eyes. Then I gave them my ninja star, insisting that they keep it. It wasn’t very sharp and it could probably be of more use here. I also witness them practicing with swords so I think they can be cautious with the star. Then I let them play a racing game on my iphone. Taking turns, they played for almost 2 hours and refused to stop until my battery had burned out. I don’t mind however, it’s probably better that I don’t have it here. When darkness fell and they were forced to perform their ceremonies, I headed back to my room where I am now. Reflecting on the day, I decided it was definitely one of the top 10 days of my life, despite my aching muscles and the guilt of giving a weapon to a few 13 year olds.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-33065494973304697882011-03-24T19:52:00.001-07:002011-03-24T19:52:56.079-07:00Through the Halls of BuddhaMarch 22. *Dong* I jolted upright, delirious and alarmed. *Dong* Then the singing started and I looked out my window. *Dong* A monk garbed in blue robes was chanting and hammering a large bell with a log. *Dong* This must be the wakeup call I thought. *Dong*But as I looked outside, I reasoned that it must still be early. *Dong* Looking at my watch I saw that it was 5am! *Dong* Our morning run didn’t start until 6:30am. I crawled back into bed wanting another hours rest. *Dong*I never got back to sleep.<br />
After counting down the seconds until 6:30, I finally stumbled out into the courtyard for the run. It was still indistinctly dark and I required a flashlight to get around this early. Dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, we began our run out into the road. Most of the monks were running today, though I noticed several other foreigners running with us. All were women and their ages varied from around 21 to 55, yet they were all impressively agile. The run wasn’t an arduous one. We jogged for possibly 5 minutes before coming to a dried out river. A monk I had been running with picked up a large boulder and, with great, unexpected strength, put it atop his head where it balanced there. Without hesitation, he began to walk back up the road towards the temple. I was left gaping at the back of him. I chose my own rock, although it was smaller than his neck breaking bolder, and began to walk back to the temple as well. I slipped a few times, but generally the rock stayed balanced during its journey. I followed the line of monks balancing rocks atop their heads until they came to the temple, then they veered downhill to a neatly made rock path. They placed their heavy rocks in a precise pattern in order to form a walkway down the hill. I tried to place mine, but one monk took it from me, though not unkindly, and placed it himself. Then, stretching my neck muscles, I ran back up to the temple.<br />
At the temple’s large front doors, we met the Master of Kong Fu and Tai Chi. He bowed and said “R Me Tofo.” We all responded with a bow and returned his “R Me Tofo.” (This was stated in the etiquette guide). He introduced himself as “Master” and we haven’t received a name beyond that. Speaking in decent English, he asked if we would rather practice Kong Fu or Tai Chi during our stay. The 3 of us chose Kong Fu. So he began teaching us the first movements of the martial art. We started with painful slowness and Master concentrated on perfecting the form of one movement before we began the next one. As to be expected in Kong Fu, there were several punching and pushing motions, but the most taxing positions required squats and lunges. I had not done either since I had left school and my muscles burned before long. Soon a layer of cool sweat soon coated us all as we practiced. The foreign Tai Chi students and the younger monk boys practiced alongside us. The monk children performed aerial kicks and flips with ease, and I was beyond impressed by their humility when it came to their abilities. No one competed with one another; on the contrary, most helped the less competent children to Master their practice. It made me feel slightly foolish remembering all I had done in high school when I had constantly tried to outstrip everyone in classwork and practices. <br />
Suddenly Master called out that it was breakfast time. Starving, I ran to the kitchen. The cook handed the three of us bowls of our own, which we must wash and clean after every meal, as well as keep safe in our rooms. We sat down with Ella, one foreigner of about 21 who would be practicing Kong Fu with us. As explained in the etiquette, the Master must start eating before we could start. Our cook handed out 2 separate plates of giant dumplings and a bowl of what looked like rice porridge. It all smelled tantalizingly delicious. When the Master had exclaimed “R Me Tofo!” and bit into his food, I grabbed the first dumpling I set my eyes upon. The first was slightly salty with veggies and tofu inside, and the second was sweeter with crushed nuts and honey oozing from the dough. I ate at least 5, which was no easy feat due to their abnormal size.<br />
After breakfast there was another round of lessons. We first stretched with our Master in a separate atrium that held several statues of different Masters and Buddhist guardians. Our Master shamed us all by stretching to the limits of the human body. He formed 200 degree angles with his splits and could put his head through his legs. Then we performed diverse exercises involving jump kicks, deliberate punches, cartwheels, and handsprings. Not wanting to offend our Master, who was very kind yet strict, we participated in all of the exercises, even if our backs smacked hard against the stone floor. The speed, agility, and stamina of the younger Buddhists astounded me. At one point a boy of 10 years old performed a no handed cartwheel flip! It was beyond anything I could have expected. The process of the exercises took longer than I thought because Master needed to show us the proper technique.<br />
Too soon, 3 hours had passed and it was time for lunch. It was another delicious meal of tofu, rice, and various vegetables. I was beyond thirsty however, and resorted to drinking the steaming hot water they passed around, not caring weather my mouth burned or not. I left the table with David (you must leave the table in 2s and 3s) and said “R Me Tofo.” to each table. After cleaning our bowls and stowing them away safely, we played tag with a few of the monk children and I showed them a ninja star that I had kept in my bag. They took turns throwing it and each excited kid possessed deadly precision, though it was not unexpected. <br />
While I was walking back to the room, Master called me to join him for some tea. It didn’t occur to me to refuse his request and I sat down with him at once. He drew out a large wooden wheel and smacked one side of it on the table. A part of the wheel shattered and he put a large chunk of the wood into a steaming pot of water. Only then did I realize that the wheel was made of compacted tea leaves. It wasn’t a strong or tasteful brew, but it filled you with immense energy. I felt like running a few miles afterwards. We talked of my Chinese lessons, his life at the temple, and my travels of the world. He spoke more English than I expected and was much more willing to converse in a friendly manner than during lessons. Then he clapped his hands and said “Lessons now.”<br />
We finished up with a review of our Kong Fu positions and learned a new series of moves. Then came dinner, which was tofu bacon, rice, carrots, and peppermint soup. Immediately after dinner I dragged my feet up to my room. I only have the energy to type this post until I fall asleep, but hopefully I will be able to find a way to post these days while I am here.Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-39565489279377243222011-03-23T22:59:00.001-07:002011-03-23T22:59:34.248-07:00Racing With Time<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 21. A hectic day was what I had to look forward to when I awoke this morning. I immediately dressed and showered, then set off into the markets to buy various souvenirs for my friends and family. I bought scarfs, ninja stars, incense, tea and several other items. The time I had spent practicing my bargaining skills had paid off, as well as my Chinese lessons, for I was usually able to cut the price down to a quarter of what the merchants originally gave. However, the bargaining took longer than I thought and it was almost noon before I had bought all the items I needed. I scarfed down a breakfast of eggs, bacon, bread, and cheese (which I made into a classic bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich) and drank a Chai tea, which brought new life back into my throbbing head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">From there I scrambled up my items and, with Leung’s help, shipped a package home. Even last month I had realized that my suitcase was bulging with unnecessary items so it was necessary to pay the 180 yen ($30) to send a package home. Almost an hour and a half had passed when the postwoman finally cleared all my items to be shipped away. I tore out of the post office with Leung on my heels and came to a barber shop. This took more time than normal because I was wary of the barbers in China, but again with Leung’s help I was able to get the exact cut that I wanted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I ran back home and sent a few emails and had just finished when Erik told us that we needed to have dinner before heading to the monastery. We ate at Café De Jack again, which we eat half our meals from. I ordered a massive dinner, partly because I had only eaten one meal today, but mostly because the monastery only provides vegan food. I shoveled down a 9 inch pizza, a beefsteak with fries and an egg, and finished it off with a fresh oatmeal cookie from the bakery.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beyond bloated, I lugged my suitcase onto a taxi and set out towards the monastery. It was only a bumpy 15 minute drive from Dali, but it was as secluded as any Buddhist temple. It was slightly dark when we arrived so I could only make out the outlines of the temple and the surrounding area. We walked down several steps and came through the opening of the large front doors. A boy no older than 13, wearing a headlamp, greeted us upon entering the temple and I introduced myself in Chinese saying Wo xing Mack, Wo jiao Jimmy. He laughed at my pronunciation and in good English said “Come this way everybody, you need to sign in.” I was slightly embarrassed to notice that his English is better than my Chinese. However, I studied for only 3 weeks where he has probably been studying for a few years.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The boy led us over to the sign-in book and we wrote down our information near candlelight. I even signed my name in Chinese, which pleased the boy. Then we were handed the temple etiquette, which was simple, yet strict. For example, it stated that no food can be left in your bowl; if you drop food you must eat it, no sexual contact, and above all no insulting the master. Leung and Erik wouldn’t be staying with us on this leg of the journey, though they probably will visit from time to time. So we said our farewells and it amused me to see Erik’s look of longing as he gazed around at the outlines of the surroundings.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the boy led us to our rooms separately because the girls are not allowed to be in the boy’s dormitory and vice versa. As you may have guessed, there is no power in the temple and obviously no Wi-Fi, which might make blogging a bit tricky, but I will figure out something. The boy gave us a thermos of water and said goodnight. Thirsty, I gulped down some water, but gasped and sputtered when the boiling liquid ran down my throat. I guess that must be the way they purify the water here. I’m not going to complain. Better safe than sorry. We are now stretching out on our beds, eager to sleep so we can experience tomorrow, though the vegan meals might prove to be a heavy obstacle to overcome for 5 days. </span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-86772135910743934172011-03-23T22:58:00.001-07:002011-03-23T22:58:34.549-07:00The Little Things<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 15-20. For this post, I must start on the 20<sup>th</sup>, for the days beforehand were as continuous as ever, although I do need to explain why I never followed through with my taekwondo lessons. When I consulted with Erik on the subject, he explained that 5 days of this trip are dedicated to learning either Kung Fu or Tai Chi at a Buddhist temple. Therefore, I decided that since I had already paid for martial arts lessons I might as well not spend my money learning an entirely separate martial art. It was, however, the loss of another unique experience, but I’m sure the time spent in the temple will make up for it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So the 20<sup>th</sup> was our last full, free day before the monastery, and I made sure it was worthwhile. Waking up to the bustle of the Saturday crowd, I awoke Christen and David and had a scrumptious breakfast at The Sweet Tooth. Breakfast consisted of savory blackberry pancakes and an enormous blackberry muffin. I was also able to stomach some coffee, which I have grown fond of since New Zealand, although plenty of sugar is a necessity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Afterwards, our plan was to meet Erik and Leung at some stables a few blocks away from The Sweet Tooth. Leung, Erik, a raggedy, old man, and 4 small horses met us at the stables. Only Leung wanted to join on this ride, for it was his first time riding and Erik was busy with other demands. The old man greeted us with a toothless grin and, wasting no time, ushered us onto the horses. The horse stood no taller than my shoulder and I swung myself easily into the saddle. The “saddle” was a crude impression of a seat. It was made of wood and cushioned with a thick layer of Styrofoam. I felt that it would be cruel for the horse to have to bear my weight with only wood to comfort it. When I looked down I saw a layer of Styrofoam between the horse and the saddle, though it looked worn enough to be of barely any use.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we were all situated on our horses and the toothless old man had comfortably loosened the stirrups, we set out on a leisurely walk towards the mountain. It was soon apparent that the horses weren’t bred for riding and I suspected they were mainly used as packhorses. The horses were hard to control as a rider, but the toothless old man barked orders every few seconds and they obediently followed them. Only David seemed to have full control of his horse, though he has been riding for 6 years.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We walked until we came to a dirt road. Then the toothless old man bellowed a command in Chinese and the horses sped off in a steady gallop. It caught me by surprise, but I had ridden before and I switched my rhythm without hesitation. Leung, however, was thrown off balance and nearly toppled over his horse’s neck. He screamed and tried to reign in his horse. The horse didn’t even respond and kept at its ground eating speed. The toothless old man boomed with laughter and ran to keep up with us. When he stopped the horses Leung was in a towering rage and almost walked home from there, but we were too far from home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Contrary to what I believed, we only rode to the base of the mountain and then veered back towards the way we came. The entire ride took only an hour, but it was fun nonetheless. We passed through much of what we had seen when we had hiked the mountain with our teacher, but riding atop a horse made the journey much more exciting. We soon came back to the stables and patted our horses down before setting out to our next destination. From there we met Erik at a massage parlor. Our original plan was to relax and enjoy cheap oil massages, but that was until Erik pointed out their special on cupping.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cupping is when a masseuse takes an ordinary, glass cup and, with the cup upside down, fills the cup with a flame. This in turn consumes all the oxygen inside and the masseuse quickly places the now flameless cup on your back, giving it a slight twist. As the suction causes your skin to try and fill every inch of the deoxygenated void, your body supposedly expels all its toxins through that suction. After 30 minutes of the hot cup sucking on your skin, the masseuse takes the cup off, leaving large, circular bruises that refuse to fade for days, or even weeks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This special was only 25 yen per person. Erik suggested the idea, to which I responded “Party.” When else will I have the opportunity? Besides it was my last full day before the monastery. So our group, excluding Christen, was led to a room consisting of 3 lounges. Christen was led to a separate room for her cupping, for obvious reasons. The 3 of us, Leung didn’t want to try it, lay shirtless on the lounges. We talked excitedly, eager for the cupping to begin. 3 masseuses walked inside and lay 12 cups on the table beside me. I watched with slight apprehension as the masseuse grabbed the first cup and lit the inner air. He shoved it on so suddenly, I let out a groan of surprise and pain. The hot cup felt unpleasant and my skin immediately was taken up into the cup. He repeated the process 12 times until my skin was stretched so tight over my back, I thought it might split open. Then he laid a blanket over me and walked away, leaving me to squirm uncomfortably for the next 30 minutes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I lay in throbbing pain, I thought how uncomfortable it must be for someone to have an itch while they were feeling the sting of the suction. No sooner had the thought entered my mind when I yearned to scratch every part of my back. It was torturous to lay there unmoving, for if you moved, your back would change its posture and the suction would cease. Finally, after I had tried everything to distract myself from the irritation, the masseuse came back in and took the cups off my back. Afterwards, I sprang up and shook around, though I felt different than I had before. I felt full of energy and felt no pain anywhere on my body. I believe the sensation was caused by the pain I had felt earlier and not because my body was suddenly toxin free, but it was a pleasant feeling.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Erik and David stood up and shook themselves, but neither had expressions of relief on their faces. On the contrary, they both seemed disappointed. When I asked them how they felt, Erik replied “Well that was a rip-off.” Neither had felt anything during the cupping, yet both their backs looked as if they had been beaten. Pulling our shirts back on, we left the parlor. With sullen faces, the pair of them walked out towards the town and flagged down a taxi. David, for one, was eager to wash down his disappointment with the next scheduled event. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last Saturday we had signed up for a baking lesson at the café. It was being taught by the American family that ran the place so it was easy to relay directions back and forth. We made the dough, kneaded the bread and churned out several dozen cinnamon rolls. It was a welcome change to laugh and joke with kids you are barely acquainted with. I had grown so accustomed to the presence of Erik, Leung, David and Christen and only then did I realize that it had been almost 3 weeks since I had met an English speaking person, save last Saturday. We again played cards and Apples to Apples while we enjoyed our cinnamon rolls. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: center 3.25in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I licked the icing from my fingers, I pondered the happenings of today. I replayed everything that had happened and, subconsciously, I ordered them from favorite to least favorite. Surprisingly, my top choice was the present moment. I realized that I had forgotten to enjoy the small things in life and I was bent on enjoying momentous events. Of course, the last 2 months have been fun and momentous, but if you look back at all you can remember it’s the jokes you tell, the emotions you feel, and the people you share your life with that make those memories extraordinary. Sometimes, there is nothing better than enjoying your friends’ company while biting into a freshly baked cinnamon roll. </span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273715958611260763.post-54548938399169753492011-03-15T23:27:00.000-07:002011-03-15T23:27:27.579-07:00Peace, Apples, Yaks, and Corruption<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">March 10-15. Five days has passed since I have written a blog post. During this time only 3 large events, worthy enough to be written about I mean, have occurred. I won’t describe each day, because it might bore you into a deep sleep, but I will share each happening chronologically as well as some minor experiences with you. I also wanted to explain why I haven’t updated everyone on each day as I had done in New Zealand and Fiji. Not every day is as large of an adventure as it was last month, but it is an adventure none the less. There is a peace in China, which I am grateful for, that did not exist in New Zealand and trying to communicate that peace through words would be near impossible, I think. I don’t understand it myself, but the peace comforts me and provides me with the time to observe my surroundings. I also must confess that I possessed little desire to blog in the past few days and, not wanting to write something I wasn’t proud of, I followed my instincts. If that weren’t enough, I am still sick since March 9. I still wretch after certain meals, however it is infrequent and my joints aren’t in constant pain. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last 2 days of class, before the weekend, went without any notable incidents. During my off hours, I read my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord of the Rings</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Trilogy</i> book and walked about town. I don’t bother with the shops anymore; I have bought souvenirs for all my friends and family. Mostly, I observe the people, the differences between my customs and theirs, and the environment. Plugging in my headphones, I walk down the endless road of Old Dali. Instead of using my sense of sound, I use my eyes and nose to discover aspects about the town. As I watch the shopkeepers working on their crafts outside their shops, I can smell the fresh sweetbread being pulled out of the oven across the street. The inroad river tumbles across the rocks, while cigarette smoke forms clouds around me. And as old women badger me, asking if I “smoke the ganja”, cheap incense palpably lingers, trying to counteract the cigarette smoke. The list goes on and on. It isn’t a complete experience without being able to hear my surroundings, but I feel they would distract me from the niceties. The hawking of people about to spit, the constant drum of hammers striking anvils, music blaring from all directions, and the honking of car horns all around me are quite unappealing in my opinion. Even the garbage truck, which plays an ancient Chinese melody to tell people to put out their garbage, has lost its splendor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last night before the weekend, we decided to spend our night at a local, western café near the University. We had heard it was one of the most fun places to be on a weekday. We arrived to see it packed with people, all playing board games or PlayStation. It wasn’t what some people would call “a night out” because they didn’t serve beer and there wasn’t a woofer pounding in your ear, but it was fun none the less. Christen, David, and I met up with several kids from the U.S. whose parents, on a whim, had packed up one week and moved to Old Dali to run this café. It was strange to actually have a normal conversation with people you didn’t know intimately, but it was a welcome change. Amanda, Johnny, and Brittany were all our age and Ben and Henry were several years younger. They seemed as pleased as we were to spend time with people from back home. After several hours of Apples to Apples, we were already making plans to hang out again. The café also had a baking class on Thursday at 7pm, which we all eagerly signed up for. We relished any opportunity to keep ourselves busy during off hours. Only at 1am were we forced to leave the comfortable coffee shop and head home for the night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So when the weekend was upon us, Erik suggested that we take a trip to Lijiang, a town about 3 hours away from Old Dali. I wasn’t yet bored of Dali, but I was more than willing to see other Chinese towns. At 9am the next morning, we were being swept away on a train towards Lijiang. I didn’t expect the train to be luxurious, but I didn’t expect it to be from the 1970s either. The paint was peeling, there were cramped compartments with small beds as seats, and the bathrooms reeked as if they had not been cleaned since the day they had been made. When I surfaced from the train station, green faced and wobbling, a cab driver greeted me and drove us to Meadow Lodge, where we would be staying for the night. I slunk into the bed as I slammed my backpack down, but Leung was there as quick as a flash. He ripped off the covers from my body and in a stern tone informed us that we were going to lunch. Against every instinct of my being and with my body fighting the movements, I shuffled out of bed and went downstairs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The streets in Lijiang reminded me of the streets of Venice. They were cramped and windy. Even a small river of water ran the length of the roads. Shops clustered the sides and it was obvious that Lijiang caters specifically to tourists, even more so than Old Dali. Since Lijiang is near mountains, they pride themselves in their herding of Yaks. Instead of ice cream shops, there are Yak meat corner markets and Yak yogurt is advertised everywhere. I didn’t have the stomach to try the meat, but the yogurt was extremely tasty. The same goods that are found in Old Dali can be found in Lijiang, so there was no need to buy anything. Our time was better spent wandering the crowded streets and seeing several spectacular sights that were exclusive to Lijiang. The mountains held an ethereal beauty when set against the background of this busy tourist town. Chinese Plum Blossoms litter the streets, adding to the attractiveness. In the town square, there were several local men garbed in mountain clothing and riding horses packed with pots, pans, sleeping bags, and a musket. They were clearly there for tourists to take pictures with them, but they were still entertaining to watch. Other people try to take advantage of the tourist’s eagerness to spend money by allowing you to hold an eagle or play with a monkey, which you must pay for of course.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before we knew it, dinner was upon us. Nobody wanted western food, except me, and I wasn’t going to be the odd man out for this meal. Coming across a street lined with food we all took our pick and made our own combinations. I went for 3 pieces of sizzling bacon with savory spices, a freshly baked roll of bread, miniature skewered eggs, and a bag of seasoned almonds. It was all delicious and I ate it down to the last crumbs of the almonds. After dinner, we walked down the “Red Light District” of Lijiang. All the bars were packed with people. We sat down at the most “American friendly” bar and the others ordered drinks. We thought it was “American friendly” because it played the most modern music, where the others played club music from back in the 1990s. It seemed that we were the celebrities of the bar because countless people asked to take pictures with us asked us all to dance. However, we ended up clearing the dance floor due to our more modern dances. I don’t know if the locals were impressed or disgusted by our moves, it was hard to make out their expressions, but we had fun all the same. At 12am we walked back to the room, exhausted from the night’s events and eager to lie in our comfortable, heated beds (every bed that I have slept in so far has had a heated blanket).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t sleep much that night. I became violently sick again, probably because of dinner. Nobody else reacted the same, so maybe it’s just my own body. I barely slept that night and in the morning, I was beyond exhaustion. I wanted something substantial in my stomach, so I ate 2 enormous pancakes and munched on fruit for breakfast. Our train left at 11am and it was tough to remember the ride. I was slightly disoriented and slept most of the time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day we had class and I was looking forward to it, specifically the afternoon session. We planned to hike to a waterfall with our teacher and her friend. Supposedly, it was a 30 minute hike from the school. We, however, spent over 4 hours trekking the mountain behind the university in search of the waterfall. We began the hike at 2pm, immediately after lunch. We walked uphill towards the Tea House, where we had spent our first few nights in Dali. The teacher wasted no time and put us to the test, making us converse with her in Chinese. Effortlessly, we came to the back of the Tea House and found the path up the mountain. There was a guard stationed at the entrance. His only job was to make sure that we signed a sheet of paper saying that we had visited during the specific time. I believe it was in case someone came looking for us, so they could prove we had passed through that side of the mountain. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The hike began leisurely, with a slight uphill walk through the forest. We passed countless graves, extravagantly decorated with red and gold dragons and beautifully neat Mandarin writing. Rushing water could be heard close by and soon we came to the river. We thought we had come to the waterfall, but all we could see were tiny cliffs that made water fall 3 feet to the ground. That couldn’t be it we reasoned and kept walking. As we kept on marching, our teacher described many aspects of the forest to us in Mandarin, but I could only understand fragments of her speech. Occasionally she would joke with her friend, while Christen, David, and I would exchange clueless expressions. After about an hour however, we lost sight of the graves and the path became windy and treacherous. It sometimes sloped at a possible 75 degree angle, forcing us to climb the path as if it were a ladder. Our teacher gave up trying to teach us Chinese, but I doubt she could have continued if she had wanted to. We panted with the effort of climbing the mountain and our faces glistened with sweat. Our minds were bent on reaching an opening in the tree line, where we would see the fruits of our efforts. After another hour of hiking we came to a large, paved road meant for walking around the mountains. It was glorious to see how far we had hiked. We weren’t 300 feet from the top and the whole landscape, from the mountains across the lake to the undeveloped villages surrounding Dali was open to us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Walking slowly, I enjoyed every breath of fresh air and every mile I could see, which I valued as much as a gleaming gold trophy. As we all blissfully stared out in the open, policemen on bikes surrounded us. Only after they spoke to us did we realize they were there. Angrily, they asked what we were doing up here. Our teacher and her friend explained that we were hiking. Then one man yelled at our teachers and went off in a rage. Our 2 parties went back and forth and Christen, David and I looked at each other in alarm. After 20 minutes of frantic bantering, our teacher handed the policeman 50 yen and he handed us 5 blank pieces of paper which he had stamped with the date. Then, as suddenly as they had arrived, they sped off. Our teacher later explained to us that the policeman were asking if we had tickets allowing us to climb the mountain and after noticing that we didn’t he refused to let us go back down without payment. She told us it was a trick, meant to siphon money from foreigners and you needed no tickets to climb the mountain. It was the first time I had witnessed corruption in China and it unnerved me. Everyone seemed so friendly to us, almost to the point of annoyance. This, however, changed my perspective on this region, though it was probably exclusive to the mountain range. We paid the teacher back the money she had spent on our behalf. I wasn’t upset about losing 10 yen. That’s less than 2 American dollars, but it didn’t make me feel better about the situation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We were then forced to walk down the mountain because our teacher refused to stay after that incident. I couldn’t help agreeing. It was bitingly cold up there, even when I had on 3 layers. The weather seems to be getting colder while we stay here. At the moment it is 43 degrees and it snowed in Kunming recently, so 3 layers were vital during the hike. The walk down took half the time as the walk up, which is not unusual. Yet, it was no less uncomfortable. My toes kept getting slammed into the tops of my shoes and I could feel blisters forming on my feet. We kept getting lost and taking alternate trails as David led us through the mountain with an air of confidence that suggested he was part GPS. We ended up arriving too far left of our original location, which was a serious problem. A 10 foot wall had been built to separate the 2 sides. David and I could have easily climbed over it, but the girls were not as willing. Christen, losing her temper, snapped at David and berated him for leading us this way. David went silent and tried to find an alternate route, though he didn’t succeed. After several minutes of debate, we were forced to push the girls over the wall.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we finally arrived back at the University, there was an air of scorn and I plugged in my earphones, ignoring the constant sniping between the 2 of them. The teacher said farewell with her friend and we took the bus back home. After a 5 yen footbath and a hot shower, we were rejuvenated enough to eat dinner, then slide into bed. The night was cold and unfriendly and I was grateful for the heated blanket. I felt sheltered and content under in my sanctuary of covers and barely noticed the piercing notes of the karaoke outside my door as I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.</span></div>Jimmy Mackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792359040294647887noreply@blogger.com5