Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Bodhgaya

Bodhgaya...we only spent two days there...but I am not quite sure why people rave so much about this chaotic, extremely dusty and noisy place.

This city is the place where supposedly Buddha reached enlightenment under the famous Bodi tree.

The place is filled with monks of all nationalities, and recent monasteries from various countries.

Aside from that, nothing architecturally interesting.

We had assumed before going, that such a holly place would be peaceful, quiet, and filled with positive energy. In other words, the perfect place to meditate and relax.

Unfortunately I believe it has turned victim of its own success, as it is the exact opposite.

Oh well, two days was enough, and good to make a pit stop between Varanasi and Kolkata.

Varanasi, Benares, Khasi..

City of the gods and the heavens...

Way before starting my trip I knew deep inside of me that something special would happen in India. Ha! I was far from imagining that so many fantastic things would happen to me throughout the whole journey!

Ladakh was a paradise of sceneries and showed me in so many ways and similarly like Medan showed me that the new generation of youths can have such a huge heart and good soul.

The hospitality and welcoming I received from Sonja's family in Delhi was beyond anything I had ever experienced before.

And Varanasi, well...yet another experience incomparable to anything else.

I arrived in Varanasi by train from Delhi, after 17 hours of train, and at about 5am...in total darkness. Magical.

I negotiated a bicycle taxi for the 20 minute ride to the main gates of the streets leading to the various guest houses by the Ganga. Crossing the city at this early hour, in the darkness was the most surreal and fascinating scenery. Especially when knowing that Varanasi is an incredibly dirty place filled with crime.

But the most incredible spectacle was by far when arriving on the ghat of the crematorium right as the sun was rising. A bright sanguine red circle rising above the very foggy river while several human bodies are burning on stacks of firewood. I stayed there for a good 15 minutes clueless, speechless, motionless, not knowing what to think nor what to feel as I was numbed by the uniqueness and strangeness of such magical moment and scenery.

No description of the landscape can do justice to such beauty. I only wish my vocabulary were extensive and creative enough to manage to visually transport you through words to the shore of the Ganga in Varanasi. But in all humble honesty, entering those key words in Google images or just waiting for me to upload my photos will give you a much better idea, and I am convinced that you won't believe that such scenery actually exists. But trust me, it does.

So after a couple of hours with my bags on, looking at most of the guesthouses close to the river bank, I finally found one to crash for the first night. I was just dead tired and wanted to take a little nap before venturing in this architectural and cultural wonderland.

I believe that first day I walked about 8 hours non stop. All the way east to the nearest bridge, crossing the supposedly shantytown, and back. The people in the shantytown were so welcoming and smiling. Hard to believe that Varanasi is the source of all the criminals of India.

By 7 pm I still hadn't had any food since lunch the day before and so i was pretty much starving and would have eaten an entire holly cow!

Found a decent place, had my vegy byriani and banana lassi, and went off to the crematorium to sit down and peacefully observe both the fires, the temples, and the Ganga at the same time. The scene is even more impressive by night. It reminded me of those scenes in Les Miserables or any other movie happening during those days in old old Paris, where misery and desperation haunt the streets at night, and all you see along the banks of La Seine are the flames of big fires, flocks of stray dogs, and few groups of people here and there standing at the bottom of gigantic ancient fortresses or castles. Most surreal back from the past kind of moment...

The next day, I woke up early enough to go check out a cheaper place I was recommended by a kid the night before. On my way back to my guesthouse and ready to check out I bumped into this girl from Paraguay (!!!) who had just arrived from Nepal, and convinced her to change place and share a room in the new guest house I had just seen. Very nice and fun girl. And gosh, it felt so good to speak Spanish again!!! So Carmi and I hung out and pretended to be brother and sister since then, sometimes pretending to be from Brazil or Spain, or Argentina...basically just having tons of fun making up new stories as we went.

The evening of the second day, after taking a two-hour row boat trip on the Ganga for sunset, we decided to venture more thoroughly into the crematorium where we learnt that they apparently burn about 200 bodies per day (Hindus believe that a dead body has to be burnt within 24 hours, and the fact of being burnt in Varanasi means that the dead goes directly to Nirvana. Some people actually make the long journey to Varanasi to spend their last breath and get a straight ticket to heaven.). Once there, we were let in to the small little house/temple where the eternal flame is guarded and where the site's guriji resides. For some reasons it seemed that tourists don't dare entering that building, we did, and were invited in. We basically sat down with bunch of men, including the guriji for about two hours, chit chatting, laughing a lot, and taking a few photos. They even got us chai tea. The moment was surreal, especially given all the warnings we had been told regarding the site and how private and anti photos it was.

One of the guys there, a barber shop owner, invited us for lunch to his house the next day. How could we have said no to such special opportunity?! Hehe! And guess what?! (Only my friends in Paraguay will understand why this was so funny and strange) the name of the barber shop is Monalisa!!!!! The same day I meet a girl from Paraguay and get invited to have lunch at a place called Monalisa! Unbelievable! (Mabel, Gecilda, Rosana y Maria Gracia, eso seguro les va a hacer reir).

Day three...well, even more amazing than the previous day. Never thought that would be possible. Anyhow...

...day started at 6:30am by sunrise row boat ride on the Ganga. It felt like a Sherlock Holmes movie: extremely thick fog blanketing the whole city early in the morning, and the old buildings and holy people appearing magically out of nowhere as the row boat moves forward over the water. Surreal!

If I had any doubt about the cleanliness of the Ganga before, I now do not have any more doubt AT ALL!!!!

Let's see...what did we see this morning while cruising on the boat:
- dead dogs floating on the water, but as big as a goat due to so much water and air inhaled.
- tons of fish coming up to the surface of the water, and struggling to keep their head out, the same way dogs or cats would, in order to get some oxygen.
- people taking a poop, people doing their laundry, people brushing their teeth, people showering, all next to each other and all out in the open.
- a dog chewing on the heel of a dead human body half floating on the water and half laying on the staircase of the water. The entire intestines and inside organs of the body were hanging out, but the dog was digging its teeth as deep as possible in the bone.

Aside from that, the boat ride was incontestably magical, and those elements made it even more mysterious and surreal.

After a long morning walk along the river bank (you just can't get enough of walking along those majestic ghats and buildings!) we made it right on time to the Monalisa barbershop.

Gosh, I hadn't been received and hosted like this by total strangers since the last time I came to India with my family 15 years ago. One sometimes or rather often, tends to unfortunately forget the good of which the human heart is capable.  It was so moving and touching how they received us. Their house or rather cement room was no bigger than 3m by 3m. A large wooden board on four legs was the only furniture, serving as bed, dining table, common area, sofa... So we spent most of the day sitting there, trying as creatively as possible to communicate with our hosts. This beautiful couple and their four children. After some traditional chai, the woman started cooking right on the room floor, with the absolute most basic tools and equipment. The chola and rice she cooked for us was delicious. At least this time, we were not the only ones eating. Once we got started, our hosts also got eating. Very soon we were al eating together...with our hands. Gosh it was spicy! But hey, whatever! The sweat on my face and my runny nose made them laugh quite much. Lol

After lunch we all walked up to the roof, the floor above, and even smaller than the main room. All of us sitting there, while all the neighbors from the surrounding building kept on peeking their heads out to see where all the noise and English was coming from. Then the oldest daughter, 12yr old, offered Carmi to do her a mendhi, or henna, since she was studying it at school. It was so moving. She was so focused and so attentive to do her best...while her parents were so proudly watching.

It was hard to leave their house when the night had arrived. They wanted us to stay. :-)

The next day was when we met Om, a 14 yr old local boy. One of the wittiest boys I have ever seen. 14 going 40! Lol

That evening we just briefly met him and just chatted for a bit like we usually did with everyone else in the area. Little did i know that i would spend every following day with him.

A little gastronomical parenthesis though, that same morning we also discovered the absolute best lassi place in the world: Blue Lassi. And for once, the Lonely Planet is entirely right about its recommendation. OMG those lassis are so incredibly good! My favorite is the Mixed Fruit one. A home/hand made liquid sweet yogurt mixed with coconut, and topped with pomegranate, orange, pear, banana, papaya, pineapple, a touch of powered cacao, a touch of strawberry jelly, and crumbled pistachios. Delicious is a huge understatement!

One day walk Carmi and I did before hanging out with Om was to go all the way to the Ramnaga fort, a good 20km away (so we were told). This fort is majestic. A true piece of architectural art. When we got there, we saw that unfortunately the entry fee for foreigners was way to high (Rp150 per person! Vs 20 for locals!), so we decided to walk around the outside wall along the river bank to check out the river view. After crossing a public toilet land (literally, a large piece of land where people just go and relieve themselves, whether it be #1 or #2, shamelessly out in the open, day and night), and a supposedly snake infested bushy area, we made it to the foot of the fort on the water side. It was our adventurous luck that some slightly sketchy young kid incited us to follow him and basically hike and walk along the facade, as if we were breaking in, face and whole body glued to the wall, until reaching the other side or the back entrance of the fort, the one only used by boats. Though we were initially scared to be caught by the fort security, we realized that technically we were still outside the fort's walls anyway, thus legal. Hehe!

Once there, we were surprised to find quite a few fishermen...well, if men from the slums, using a piece of nylon string hanging in the water in the hope of catching some food can be called fishermen. I believe they were as surprised to see us as we were to see them. We even met a Sadhu there. A beautiful Jesus like face of a a guy. He wanted us to take photos of him. And so did his friends. It was funny. But even funnier was that at one point he was making a charas (clay cone filled with marijuana and tobacco), and then urged us to take no more photos of him, and to just go. A bit of hypocrisy there, but oh well...isn't it what religion is all about anyway...

Our first whole day spent with Om, we walked the entire day along the Ganga's banks, crossing the city and also some slums, in order to find the only Krishnamurti center in India.

My mother had always told me about Krishnamurti. She always tried to get me to read some of his work, but I never made the effort. So since I had been told about that center by one of Sonja's aunt, I figured it would be a good opportunity to catch up and enrich my knowledge a bit about such world renown spiritual leader. Hmmm...all I have to say is that it takes more than one trial or read to fully grasp what he is talking about...and today I am still not quite there yet...

In any case, we then returned to our neighborhood via the Muslim district, by far the nicest part of the city. So colorful, relatively peaceful, but filled with vibrant culture and diverse street life.

A day or so later I believe is when the beautiful Angelina arrived to town. (Remember her? We met on the very last day of my Vipasana course in Yangoon. She is half Japanese half Brazilian).

Well, we had stayed in touch since then, and managed to make our journeys coincide in Varanasi. :-)  lucky me!

It was the perfect timing, since Carmi was to depart on Friday, Angelina became my new roommate.

Not only is she beautiful on the outside, but the time we have spent traveling together since then has allowed me to realize how beautiful a person she is inside. She has been traveling for about 20 months already, and has spent each of these months volunteering on some projects, from the Caribbean, to Africa, to eastern Europe to Asia. She is like an unstoppable do-gooder. Her heart is just bottomless. It is just so inspiring and refreshing.

I have now been on the road for about 8 months. Like most backpackers who go on such journey, my overall objective is to "find myself", find what my purpose in life should be and find the appropriate inspiration to drive me in the right direction.

I have always known in a way that helping people is what makes my heart vibrate, but other than when I was working at AED back in my DC days, I never really fully put any of it into action, at least not the way Angelina has been doing it. And as we all know, actions speak louder than words.

Does my passiveness all these years say something about my real intentions or passion? I am not quite sure and am still trying to figure it out. But the one thing I know is that spending time with Angelina and listening to her ideas and the work she has done does inspire me so much and makes me want to turn my passive state into serious actions. Perhaps I have just been a bit afraid to dive in thus far, fearing that I don't have the right tools or preparation to know what to do. But isn't that the main fear of all entrepreneurs and what makes the difference between those who think about it and those who actually do it?!

A question I have been asking myself more and more is whether I should be a social entrepreneur or a social worker. Between Beverly's book and Angelina's stories, I am not at a lack of inspiration at all!

Anyway, back to Varanasi.

Angelina and I pretty much spent the rest of our stay there walking, discovering, chatting, laughing, learning, and eating with Om and Babu every single day, as if they were our two sons. Such a strange yet thrilling experience. Every time we would buy them diner or sweets, watching them eat with their gourmand and happy face was so rewarding. One evening we even took them to the movies. I think we enjoyed the movie just as much as we enjoyed watching them having so much fun. I must confess that during those days I did think a lot that those moments and feeling were perhaps comparable to what part of parenthood could be like...and it did make me look forward to it quite a lot. And what a perfect sequence right after the precious time I had spent with Milan and Surya in Delhi.

Angelina even convinced me to "bade" in the Ganga. Only up to our knees though!!!!! People, don't freak out...no genitals nor any other vital parts of our bodies were ever in contact with the water as like I said it was only up to our knees. But it was nonetheless quite a trip, especially the way passers by were looking at us...both locals and foreigners.

A lot a soap and scrubbing happened in the shower after that in order to remove any potential sticky bacteria from the skin of our legs. So no, my legs are not Ganga infected. Lol

Our last evening in town, we decided to do a sunset boat ride. Though Angelina and I had our own idea of what we wanted the ride to be for such occasion ( more on the romantic side), Om, Babu, and their third friend managed to make the experience something entirely different and absolutely unique. But most definitely, way better than anything we could have wanted or planned.

We rented an old row boat f or an hour, but our boys insisted to be our boatmen. So it was basically just the five of us on the boat. Like a big happy family. All five of us took turns at rowing and trying to make the boat go in a direction or another. The sun was just a gigantic bloody red orange of a sun setting in between the kings palace and the old mosque. We were in the middle of the water, the fog was thickening by the minute, the boys were discovering the fun and excitement of taking photos with our cameras, and we were all having more fun than ever.

What a perfect last sunset in Varanasi.

Our last day, (since our train to Bodhgaya was late at night) we mostly all hung out on the rooftop of our guesthouse, just joking around, playing with the cameras, chit chatting, relaxing. And at night, the boys took our backpacks (which were almost bigger than them) and led us through the streets of the city all the way to find a rickshaw, a cycle rickshaw that would take us all five and our bags all the way to the train station. What a hilarious ride. Mainly because those cycle rickshaw usually barely fit two people tightly sitting next to each other and with no bag. Hahaha! I won't say more!

Bye bye Benares!...

"Walking is good for health, talking is good for mind." Om.
"No worry no hurry, no chicken no curry." Om.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Naina and Fazal tie the knot...

eelhi...what a fabulous 10 days I had...yet, I didn't actually see much of the city at all. But that only reaffirms even more the fact that people matter so much more than places.

Naina, the cousin of Sonja, my sister from another mother, invited me to attend her wedding. Naina being Hindu and Fazal (her husband to be) being Muslim, it promised to be quite an interesting series of events (Indian style).

Naina, despite being about to get married was the most serene and stress less person ever. She not only managed to find a place for me to crash for the duration of my stay in the city but also managed to spare a whole day with me to help me find appropriate clothes for the four days of the wedding.

But what was the absolute most amazing part of my time in Delhi is that the minute I stepped into Naina's house, her, her sister, and her parents, as well as Sonja and her mom made me feel as if I were a member of the family. It was just unbelievable how natural it felt to be there and to behave and act as if I had always been Naina's and Niharika's brother. But it's not it! Also all the uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, great uncles, great aunts on both the bride and the groom side treated me as a member of their families and actually remembered my name and who I was from day one. That really made me vibrate and moved me a lot.

To the very last minute of my stay, I was not once left aside.

The wedding and its four full and busy days were a fantastic experience.

It is funny because while at SECMOL, the youngest volunteer, a 17 yr old Scottish kid, kept on playing some Bollywood movies and singing the main songs day and night...and I never really paid much attention to it as I had not seen those movies and only planned to watch them later on in my trip...but when I arrived in Delhi, Niharika who was managing the wedding entertainment regarding her and her sister's friends involvment got me to commit to join a few guys to perform a couple of dances for the whole crowd of guests (about 300 people!)...and what dances would these be? Ha! Just the ones the volunteer was singing at SECMOL. Made me laugh quite much.

During this wedding I learnt so much about Indian culture and wedding traditions. Though I do find the whole thing extremely complex and not necessarily something I would want to have, it was so beautiful all through out. And wow you should have seen how gorgeous the bride looked in each of her daily and evening attires. That in itself was a spectacle.

Oh, and during the whole time I got to get much much closer to Sonja's "little monkeys", Surya and Milan, and spent so much time with them that i actually miss them quite much now. Gosh, I learnt a ton about babysitting and child control. Lol I was actually proud of myself when they left because of how I managed to take care of them whenever I had to or was asked to. :-)   can't wait to have my own kids...can't wait...

I have chosen not to go on and on about those ten days but rather to dedicate this blog post to thank Madhu massi, Manu mamu, Niharika, Naina, Amma, Fazal, Sanjay, Sonja and Roop for their amazing welcoming and for making me feel so happy amongst their family during those ten days. I miss you all very much.

Here are some photos of the wedding:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/52537245@N00/sets/72157638325581443/

Oh, and before closing this post, just a little anecdote that happened to me as I was on my way to the train station to head to Varanasi:

I can't believe I fell for it. When I got to the train station there was a security guard. He told me my train got canceled due to an accident and that I had to go to the government tourist office to review my booking for the next train. So I went around the whole very very long block and sat down with the government officer who tried to sell me plane tickets and tours to other parts of india, telling me that all trains to varanassi were full until Dec 22.

Thank god I told him I would go back to the station counter and see if I could sneak my way into the next train anyway.

When I got to the station, a man outside in the parking lot told me to go directly to platform nbr 8 and not to listen to anyone else.

So I went...and my original train was there...never got canceled nor postponed.

I am still laughing about it and quite impressed by such a smart scheme they pulled on me. Lesson learnt for next time...

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Leh, magical Ladakh!

How many of u have even heard of Leh or Ladakh? Seriously?!

When in Sumatra Ximena mentioned that she had volunteered once in the small org in the mountains of north India, it seemed really cool so I jumped on the opportunity to do the same. But that was it. No prior research to know exactly where it was or what it looked like. Just working with kids in the mountains.

Haaaaa! Whoever knows that region of the world k knows how much of a shock I was in for. I don't think anything at all in my life had ever amazed and surprised me that much before.  From the moment the plane approached the landing strip in the sky to the moment the plane took off again three weeks later to head to Delhi, I was in awe. It's simple. You just open ur eyes, and the surrounding mountain peaks which vary between 4,000m and 7,000m, and create a sort of gigantic nest with a light brown sand desert at its center is just unbelievably magnificent, you don't feel in India, neither in China, nor in Pakistan, but in between. Such a fascinating traditional and cultural mix cohabiting without any appearing tensions.

I am fully aware that none of my descriptions or photos can ever do true justice to this spectacle, but I surely hope it serves to motivate some to explore this unpublicized roof of the world.

So yes, my plan was to stay at SECMOL for about three weeks to help the grade 10 students as much as possible. But when I got there, I got quite frustrated as there didn't seem to be much I could help out with as there were already 5 volunteers for 35 students. Quite a bunch already! So I was pretty much set on shortening my stay to one week/10days instead and then venture around Ladakh.

But very quickly I took a liking to the kids, and though they are probably not so representative of the regional culture given the life they have at SECMOL, they continuously thought me so much about their village culture, and I just enjoyed so much shooting spo many questions at them.

The most interesting thing was that most of them do things and believe in religion without even knowing why, but simply because it is their family tradition. If you know me well, you know that I love questioning everything to try to understand. So that's what I did there. Why Buddhism? Why government jobs are best? Why marry this way? Why stay in Ladakh? Why? Why? Why? It was so interesting seeing the change in them as they were actually thinking about it all and realizing that they didn't have a clue as to why.

Strangely enough, even though 99% of them were Buddhists (only one kid was Muslim) I quickly became their go to person regarding Buddhism. My meditation course thought me so much about it that I then became able to teach myself. Well, actually about the Buddha Dhamma rather than Buddhism. Big difference!

Being the oldest volunteer by a decade gave me quite an edge/advantage regarding education, life experience and knowledge. So the kids enjoyed that and called me Mr Google. Hahahahahaha! I even tought the Muslim kid about Islam.

So strange and sad to see how tradition and family pressure are just blindly followed without ever questioning or even understanding. I can conceive that one might not know about others' religions or cultures, but I cannot understand nor accept that one doesn't know about its own belief or culture. So I made sure to leave some footprint as to male their minds more critical and curious. Hopefully it will sustain...

During the first week a few of us went to town to see the Moharam (Muslim self mutilation procession) celebration. Wow! Never in my life I thought I would witness such thing, and even less so in a place isolated like Leh. It was shockingly interesting, but also very scary at the same time.

Faith and devotion to it can be so powerful! I got a full glance of this during that day. Thousands of devoted Muslim males walking together as one while the Buddhists are watching. No women took part to the procession, at least not publicly.

Each surrounding village or main government organization had its own subgroup led by a speaker who was screaming the chants as they walked. Based on the rhythm of those chants the men would raise their fist to the sky and then bring out back to hit their chest very hard. So as the chants went faster, the noise of the fists hitting the chests got louder and louder. It almost felt that the whole city and its building were moving in sync with the fists. Such a strange feeling. The scary part was when I was walking amongst them...me the white looking foreigner taking photos and not doing the chanting and fist pounding thing. Everyone's look was so serious and profound of devotion that when some looks happened to cross mine, it felt I was at the wrong place and that something bad was going to happen. But no, they sent no harm. They were just very focused.

In each group there were 3 or 4 men who went a step further and who would, in sync with the chants rhythm, hit their forehead or scalp hard with a rock or slap their back hard with a chain whip made of multiple blades. Both backs and scalps were dripping blood like o had never seen before. Some were so focused and into the change and mutilation that they would get into a trans to the point that several other men had to jump on them to stop them from hitting themselves beyond serious injury. Some even required to be carried away to the first aid locations to be treated and end their trans state. That was probably the saddest and scariest part. Why? Why mutilate yourself like that? What does one gain from that? Some volunteer said that these were how terrorists and suicide bombers were found. Not sure if it is true, but it could make sense indeed. Such high level of devotion.

It was such an interesting experience. Seeing the Buddhists on the side of the road peacefully watching the processions was just as interesting. I kept on wondering what was going through their mind as they were watching. They must have thought that these people were crazy.

A few days after, a small group of us decided to go for a day hike in the Phiang valley to follow the thing river stream and make it up to at least 5,000 meters. We started the hike at 4,000m after taking a delicious breakfast at Stanzin's mother's house. One of the most beautiful and insolite breakfast ever. Just us, sitting in this little house, on carpets, surrounded by windows, allowing us to see the whole chain of mountains as the sun is awaking and stretching all its rays after a long and cold night of sleep. Magical!

We were quickly surrounded by snow and ice, and thus forced to continue the trek in such conditions. (Ha! My hiking shoes were for tropical climates and so were my socks!)

Growing up in the Alps and trekking so many volcanoes in Indonesia, I thought I had seen it all and that nothing could really impress me that much. Gosh was I wrong!!!!!! For the trekkers out there, it see!s that Ladakh is a much much less touristy and promoted version of Nepal. And during the off season, it is jus a pure spectacle to be all alone in such grandeur...

Each step was a challenge...at least for us then foreigners. The kids who were with us were just trying to slow down to stick with us. But if it weren't for us they would have completed the hike round trip before noon. Agggrrrrr!!! I nicknamed them the robots after that trek.

We made it to 5,037m in 5 hours! 1,037m in 5 hours! Given that I hiked from 2,600m to 3,700m on Mt Rinjani in 3 hours, I think it is not so bad a performance.

I was so happy to have passed the 5,000 m that I did a little "show" at the top. Our group had split up in 3, so by then it was just Wanchuk, Kim, and I. While Wanchuk was filming I stripped down to my boxers and socks, and went in the snow to do some push ups. Thank God it was so sunny. Would have frozen to death otherwise!

The hike back down to Stanzin's house was hell. Not only was the sun setting and our hike was in the shade of the mountain, but my feet were frozen, and my legs were killing me of fatigue. But I made it!!!!! Next challenge will be 6,000m...in Nepal perhaps...

The third event we went to as a group was the Thiksey festival. Thiksey monastery is one of the largest in the region and is known for being a replica of the main monastery in Lassa. Perched atop a rocky peak it stands impressively and dominates the whole valley and Indus river. The monastery is just gigantic and all white. I was lucky enough to be in the area to attend this annual festival of dances and blessings. Lots of children wearing beautiful masks perform dances all day long, while the famous yellow hat monks ordinate the ceremony. The monastery is filled with locals who have come from all over the region. It is a spectacle of traditional cloth and ancient faces all over the place. Only wish I had had a better camera with me that day!

The rest of my stay at SECMOL was not as eventful, yet still interesting.

We revamped the whole biogas structure. I learned a lot in the process.

I was taught how to milk a cow.

My fitness program became more popular and refined. Even Wanchuk, the founder, would attend it from 6:45am to 7:15am.

I gave a talk on self confidence and tried to boost that of the kids who despite their incredible potential don't really think highly of themselves.

Since the students were studying for their incoming exams, there was not much we could do to help them during their self study or free time. So the volunteers would just hang out together. But the students would allow themselves a little dance party every Wednesday evening for a couple of hours before going back to study. Incredible discipline to start the party and end it at 10pm on the dot. No drinks nor food. Just music, smiles and laughs. A beautiful spectacle of happiness and joy to watch. And even better to take part of it. I was amazed to see how much dancing and singing is part of their culture.

There is just so much to talk and think about regarding SECMOL's days and organization, but I will keep that for other conversations. Especially the toilets system with such cold and starry sky, as well as the pee-pee breaks at night with dzos walking around. Surreal experiences...   ;-)

One funny thing though is that the youngest volunteer, Cameron, a 17yr old Scottish boy, was addicted to Bollywood movies and kept on playing the same songs and movies every evening after dinner for us to hear. Two songs he would sing all the time: "battameez dil" and "diwali girlfriend"...and when I arrived in Delhi, as part of the wedding celebration, I was asked to perform (with a few other guys) dances on these exact two songs. Hahaha! If only I had paid more attention in Leh, I would have known them perfectly well for the wedding.

Leh was and is so magical that I decided to leave SECMOL 2 days before my flight in order to spend more time in the town and see it more.

Ha! I thought the nights were cold on the campus...but gosh was I surprised by the way colder nights in the city. Te guesthouses have absolutely no insulation. Glass is just fixed on wooden frames with a few nails and that's it, windows. Freeeeeeezing cold!

It being low season now, after the sun has set, there is absolutely no light in town, nor anything to do at all. The few people outside wander around with a head lamp, from house to house. Quite a difference from SECMOL. Not worse, nor better. Just different.

On my last day I walked for a few hours, crossed the city and passed all the military camps to make it to Spituk Monastery, perched atop a hill and dominating the whole valley. Splendid spectacle!

I spent a few hours there, catching my breath and resting from the long walk and hike.

On my way back, as I was hitchhiking for a ride, or looking for a mi I taxi, I got picked up by a van filled with passenger. It so happened that they were people from Rajasthan who I had seen at the monastery. They were so happy to pick me up in their taxi van.

We chatted the whole way. They are shoe shiners who work on the street. Here for the season and also because of the good school for their kids.

They refused to let me pay for my taxi fare and paid for me. Then they invited me to their street corner where their stall is and bought me chai and pastries. I sat there on the curb and chatted with them for a good hour. Got weird looks from the locals, but who cares.

I met their daughters, cousins, friends...it was so nice.

I promised to go see them in Jaipur next year, and I will do so. :-)

After that I was so starving I went to the yummy Punjabi restaurant up the road. Their I ended up sharing a small table with a couple (him an Indian soldier passionate about photography and living in Delhi, her an Indian bank associate living in Australia.) It was their first visit to Ladakh just like me. We had such an interesting chat about their living situation as well as politics and both our trips. They ended up buying me desert. :-)

Departing from Leh the next morning was not easy at all. I really fell in love with the place and its people. There is such a magical energy that exudes from the air you breath up there. I was sad to leave.

But once the plane took off and stared hovering at the whole chain of the Himalayas it was one of the most incredible and breathtaking thing I had ever seen. All we could see miles around was the highest peaks of the planet. Where is Everest? Is that K2? How high is this one? 6,000m? 8,000m? It was just insanely beautiful and grand. When we say the sky is the limit, it felt we were flirting with that limit.

I am dying to go back...soon.

Saturday, November 30, 2013

India me voila!

Hahahahahahahaha! Yes, laughing is what I did when I landed in my first real destination in India: Leh, Ladakh.

Indeed, after spending a night sleeping on a bench at the Delhi airport, I landed in Leh, way north, close to the China/Tibet border. And when the captain of the plane announced that the outside temperature was 0 degrees Celsius, when in Burma I had had on average about 35 degrees Celsius day and night, I couldn't help but laugh...especially since I didn't have any could weather clothes with me, an everyone in the plane was dressed up as if they were going to climb everest.

And the best part is that when I walked out of the plane and down the stairs leading to the little bus outside, it started snowing. Hahahahahahahaha!

Aside from this very comical situation though, the approach of the plane to the Leh airport, surrounded by peaks of 6,000 to 7,000 meters high, and with military camps just about everywhere on the ground is simply surreal and magical. I was in such awe. It was like I had just landed on the roof of the world. I think that this moment was the most impressive of all my trip and probably my life so far. Never before have I been so amazed by such sights.

The Leh airport is surprising and unique. It reminded me of the Angkor airport 16 years ago. Just one small room where luggage belt, security and customs are sharing the same space. No light. The temperature is the same as outside. Everyone is dressed with coats, hats and gloves, waiting for their bags to appear on the belt...and military everywhere.

I guess I hadn't realized that Ladakh was located at a very politically and militarily sensitive zone: Pakistan, Jamu, Kashmir, China, Tibet.

I got a better sense of the size of the army in the city when I got in the taxi heading to SECMOL. I had never seen that much military presence in one city before!

Friday, November 29, 2013

Burma last stop: Bagan...

Today is November 9th, it is 9:36pm. I am laying down in my bed at SECMOL in Leh, India. The temperature in my room is about 10 degrees Celsius.

Bagan...so many people I had spoken with about Bagan had raved so much about it that I had built up this ultimate supreme valley in my head, beyond any other world wonder.

My bus arrived in town, (Bagan, or at least Nyaung U the main town, is a town) at about 4:30am. No street lighting, and not that many people in the streets other than tourists leaving their guesthouses on bicycles heading to the temples to catch the sunrise. So I walked around for a good half hour to find a decent place to stay and take a nap before getting myself a bike and touring the valley.

A trishaw convinced me to pick me up and take me to a place that was fairly new and only charged $7 a night. Great! Not the cheapest, but central and within my budget. The Pann Cherry.

By 9am, I have myself a bike, and ate breakfast. So I hit the road.

Despite the fact that my bike was probably the worst bike I have ever ridden, I tried to follow everybody's advice as well as my usual instinct, and rode among the various temples and got lost multiple times. It was so precious to feel like I was the only one in this giant valley. There are so ma y roads, dirt paths, and temples, that even though there are many tourists, one can easily feel alone. I even managed to find an abandoned temple, facing the river and the other bank, and surrounded  by a flock of grazing cows, in order to meditate for an hour. Ha! Denis, I caught myself laughing in my mind at the beginning because some of the cows were making the exact same noise as the master burper we had during our course. Hilarious!

I ended the day with a flat tire, and watching the quite disappointing sunset from the top terasse of a giant temple. So I strongly hoped that the sunrise would not disappoint me and set my alarm clock for 5am the next day.

After getting back home and showering clean, I headed out yet again, to try and find a place to meditate. I walked quite a bit and finally out of the darkness, found this temple, playing very loud music, and someone speaking with a microphone even louder. I got closer and was informed that it was the celebration ceremony of a going child passage from novice to monk. Interesting event to witness and see. But definitely not quiet place to meditate. Lol so I keep on walking. I reach the biggest temple in town, and in the giant entrance galleries leading up to the main pagoda, tons of souvenir stalls and a huge crowd of local young student tourists. I take part to the crowd to see where it will lead me to, and to observe the crowd itself. So interesting to see all these students shopping in group for absolutely tasteless souvenirs.  Bunch of souvenirs which pretty much prove that they were in Bagan, but nothing more.

So not a quiet place for meditation either.

I gave up, it was getting late, and I needed to eat dinner before going to bed.

During dinner, I sat down next to this tourist from Penang, Malaysia. It was nice chatting about his city and his country...and be able to speak about it in a very knowledgeable manner.

The next day, paddling in the total darkness, headlamp on, and hoping I took the right direction, I paddled as fast as I could to make it to the tallest temple in the valley. I made it! Thank God I bumped into two British girls on their bike at a junction and they knew the way to go.

Well...the sunrise was indeed quite magical...not as magical as the nirvana sunrise over the Borobudur valley, or the sunrises over the Angkor temples, but still magical...and watching the hot air balloon fly over then valley, made it even better...totally reproducing the typical national geographic photos.

After two days of roaming around in the valley, from temple to temple, and walking for hours in the morning market, I was happy to leave Bagan.  This town was quite strange in many ways. Not much of a dynamic community life. You could easily tell that the town was fully relying on tourism for its economy, and was actually very well structured around tourism.

I saw so many monks with a cell phone and even a back pack. Some even hung out in bars at night, drinking red bull, and watching soccer games while seating next to a group of female friends.

Anyhow, on day three, at 7pm, I hop into a bus to Yangon...for another 10 hour ride through the night. (I counted, in total, in Burma, I took about 10 times a 10 hour bus ride.)

Arrived in Yangon as scheduled, with enough time to grab breakfast at the bus terminal and catch a taxi to the airport.

Unfortunately, since the bus arrives so early at the airport, I had to wait a good 6 hours till my flight to India. And since it was so early in the morning, it didn't even give me enough time to find a market to buy warm clothes for Ladakh. The up side of this long wait is that I bumped into Angelina (the Brazilian girl from the meditation course) as she was running to catch her plane to BKK.

And so voila, I spent my last hours in Burma, at the airport, starting a magnificent book about Burma's old times: The Glass Palace. And at the same time, I was getting mentally ready for the dramatic weather change I was going to experience going from hot Burma to cold Ladakh.

The one thing that keeps running in my head after one month in Burma though, is the life and behavior of the monks in their community. So indefinitely want to research a lot more, and hope I can make it to Tibet next year to investigate directly at the source of Buddhism.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Vipassana Meditation according to the Dhamma...happiness here i come!

Today is November 1st, it is now 7:46pm...I am sitting on a night bus en route to the world famous city of Bagan.

Today was the day I completed a 10 day Vipassana meditation course according to the Dhamma teaching of the Buddha.

I long thought about how to recount this experience and what happened between when I left the meditation center this morning and when I got to the bus station, but this experience was such life changing and mind blowing that I have decided to keep it to myself ...a least for a while.

But I shall say only this, just to give you a little ides of the context:
1. 10 hours of sitting meditation every single day for 10 days.
2. Absolutely forbidden any kind of communication with outside or other students. Also forbidden to write or read. No sign language nor eye contact with any other student.
3. We were only 6 foreigners (2 men, 4 women) out of 100+ students.
4. My roommate, Denis, was a French gourmet chef. My neighbor was a 35 year old monk who told me when we left, literally, that marriage was like a jail. Denis and I actually spent the whole day at his monastery, an hour out of the city.
5. Only two meals (vegan) a day: 6:30am and 11am.
6. First meditation starts at 4:30am.

This was one of the most incredible experience in my life.

Read more and learn more about the Dhamma and Vipassana: www.dhamma.org.

Then let's chat!

Love and compassion...mind and body are two separate entities...experience over theory...everyone's experience is unique.

Meditation is hard as hell and take a lot of work, energy, and pain...but is tremendously rewarding.

Nothing is permanent, once you fully integrate this, you are on the path to happiness.

Be happy!

Inle Lake...que maravilla!!!

Today is October 21st, 9am.
I am sitting at a street tea shop nearby the Sule Pagoda circle in Yangon, waiting for the 24/7 ATM to open at 9:30am so I can finally withdraw some cash before the rest of my journey.

I arrived at Shwe Nyaung junction, about a half hour outside of Nyaung Shwe, after a 17 hour bus ride. Very long ride indeed, but strangely enough, when I got out of the bus, I felt so energized...probably because of the good energy coming from the lake and from what I was so looking forward to seeing for so long.

Inle Lake might be one of the top two tourist spot in the country, but gosh it is so worth it and tourism hasn't really invaded the place just yet. So the magic still remains...

Right off thew bus, a trishaw (like a pickup truck but driven by a moto) picks me up. The back was full, for I had to seat on a little plank of metal/wood screwed somehow just next to his seat. It was actually the perfect place to seat given how superb the view was all along until we reached the hotel name I had given him: Joy Hotel, located right on the canal where the local traders come load and unload their merchandize and produce everyday. Beautiful scenes, and much more tranquil and quiet than being on the river shore where all the speed boats come and go all da long starting at 5 am every day. :-) so the perfect choice, and for only $12 a night in luring breakfast, WiFi, and a shared bath with super hot shower and strong water pressure. Lol

It is 9am when I hit the streets to take a lil tour of reconnaissance of the town. Such a small village with tons of tea shops, restaurants, and hotels. But still, spread out enough that you don't feel to choked off by the tourists.

After a while, some local, or so I think, heils at me from the other side of the street "have you booked a boat trip yet?". Come on! Another boatman trying to sell his deal. So many of them all over town. Just like the locals hassling you all over downtown yangon, trying to sell you local currency at supposedly competitive rates. Anyhow, I try to dodge him, but he quickly replies that he is looking for someone to share a boat to lower the cost. Alright!!!! Let's chat then. :-) I felt so bad I took him for a local.

His name is Ho, he is a Vietnamese/Canadian/American. He moved to the US when he was a teenager. He contracted polio while hiding in the swamps in Vietnam during the Vietnam-France war of independence. But he does not hate the French at all. He is a fascinating person. He met his wife, also Vietnamese, while backpacking through Germany, after he ran away from the US because they wanted to draft him to fight as a US citizen in the Vietnam-US war! And aside from being a professeur of mathematics and economics in Maryland, he is also teaching a Master's class about the sex trade economy at the university of Chiang Mai. Oh, and did I mention that because of polio he could not really walk much normally, so he got an artificial knee, which allowed him to walk the 800km Camino De Santiago De Compostelle...in 33 days. Ha! Clement and Ho, you guys should meet someday. Clement, I actually talked a lot about you to Ho. :-)

Ho and I ended up spending the rest of the day hanging out together and chatting non stop about life, religion, health, politics...
We found a third guy to share the next day's boat ride. Tom, a young British guy who just graduated and does not really know what to do with his life...I guess we all went through that.

Next morning, departure at 5:30am, in order to see the very popular and timely floating Buddha procession happening this month.

The lake in itself is nothing special at all. It is just a big lake with lots of plants floating o it here and there kind of like the river in bangkok.

After an hour of cruising, we get to a place where numerous long boats are gathered and parked...standing by, and waiting for something to happen. Surprisingly, there are more locals than foreigners...it is a budhist celebration after all. After a bit of a wait, many smiles and waving to kids and their parents on newarby boats, the celebration seems to be starting. And then, wow! A spectacle!

A good dozen of long, long and decorated boats. Each with a different color code. And each with a good 50 men of all ages, really, all ages, dressed identically and aligned with the boat's color code. And all these men, start rowing in sync...but holding the paddle with their leg. Yes, strange process, but Inle Lake is quite famous for this process, mostly used and spread out by the local fishermen of the lake. Such dexterity is required when trying to maintain balance, and haul Avery long and intricated fishing net out of the water.

In any case, all the colorful boats are tied to each other by a long rope. All of them until the final three boats. These are the special ones, all in gold, and carrying the monks, other officials, but most importantly, the four budha statues which are being carried from one village to another all along the lake during this procession period. The whole thing is so festive, and the men rowing are also singing and dansing for some, just to express their happiness to be priviledge to represent their village during this procession.

We followed the procession as far as we were allowed to.

Then we headed out to the five day rotating market at the far south end of the first lake. Not as impressive as expected...I mean, after the friday markets in Marrakesh and the night markets in Malaysia borneo, hard to amaze me now...there we mostly dis people watching while being glutonous on whatever strange foods we could find. Yummmmmy! While asking prices of goods out of shopper's curiosity I became aware that the retail prices there were much higher, much much higher than in Yangon or Mandalay. I deducted that these rotating markets are geared toward local people who do not have access to mainland or main cities markets given how far remote they are. So it takes effort and resources to get these goods all the way there...and well...the tourists floading such markets have simply also increased all the prices. Hopeyfuly this has not impacted to negatively the poor locals who do not have any other options for their purchases, whether food or anything else.

And then, quite a discovery...we were showed how to extract fibers out of lotus stems. I had absolutely no idea that lotus stems were so incredibly finery. Unbelievable! And such a simple process. It was fascinating watching these women in a few seconds, transforming a few lortus stems into a whole silky/cottony roll of thread ready to weave. I guess just like people living on land and  hearding animals to use their fur and/or silk, people living on water have managed to adapt with whatever mean they could.

A few other interesting stops followed, until we got to the town of Indein. Slightly higher above the lake level, located atop a few hills, this town is famous for its hundreds of stupas which have been donated over the years from people from countries all over the world. The whole is creating a huge assemble of stupas, kind of in the forest. And it looks very impressive from atop one of the nearby higher hills. This site must be a dream at sunset, as the landscape, aside from the group of stupas, is actually quite green and flat, and its horizon plunges into the lake shores.

Later that evening, after a good shower and some rest, I went for a Burmese massage. A sort of mix between Thai massage and regular oil massage. Fantastic combo! The context/experience is as delightful and fun as the massage itself. The place is a little shack. Literally, about 10 meters long, by 5 large and 2.5 high. The room is split by a black curtain along its length. First side of the room is waiting room, where you can sit down and drink a tea. Second part is like a long flat sofa on which every client is laying Dow next to each other. No more than 40cm in between. And each receiving its massage at the same time without any curtain or separation between each other. This side of the room is only lit by a couple of candles. The ambiance is so soft and relaxing. Such a fantastic deal of only $7 for one hour!!!

The next day, I met this German guy during breakfast. Very interesting going guy, who, uniquely enough, works for a meteorology company who provides coaching and flood prevention management for developing countries around the world.  So we decided to rent bikes and hit the road to venture around, and keep on sharing more stories about our trip and the developing world. We head out to Maintauk. East of the lake. This town is supposed to be half on stilt way in the water, and half on ground. Why not?!
One hour of bike, interrupted by pouring rain, which made us to stop in a bamboo hut in the middle of a dragon fruit farm, and we finally made it to the town of Maintauk. We check out a beautiful monastery and a temple, end up sitting down with some Buddhist for half an hour to drink tea and observe what was going on...and play with the cutest cat. Then, we walk all the way to the end of the very very long wooden bridge. A going couple is flirting  while looking at the drizzling rain falling onto the surrounding lotus flowers...

The drizzle stops at last...we negotiate with an old villager for him to give us a long ride on his fishing (engine less) dug out flat canoe around the floating village. This was probably the highlight of my time in Inle. The moment was just stunningly beautiful. We were the unique foreigners around. People were smiling and waving at us right and left. The boat was so flat and shallow, one wrong move and water would flaw inside. Families of ducks were swimming along us, escorting us around. It was al so peaceful and serene. Such a dramatic contrast with the main route of the boat trips on the lake which are made with very loud motorized boats criss crossing each other from site to site over the lake. For a moment I caught myself wishing I had more time to actually spend a week in one of those floating houses and experience being part of this floating village. It must be a magical experience...oh well...one day...

On the way back to Nyaung Shwe, Mr Meteo and I quickly realized when looking at the sky that once again, we would have to race against the rain to make it back dry to town. Hmmm...an attractive stop over however was the winery which was conveniently located half way between Maintauk and the town. And well...sure enough, we just enough time to make it to the winery before the new down pour. But wow! The view from the winery was beyond all expectation. Two distinct rainbow were for one above the winery because of the fight between the sun and the rain. In the end, the rain won, but the resulting sun-blanketed fog floating over the lake was splendid. So we stayed there, tasting a few local wines and waiting for the rai to pass yet again...and a funny encounter was a group of older female English teachers from Canada who were also there on vacation. One of them was even from London, Ontario, ha! Small world...I guess the "eh" at the end of a sentence can't hide Canadians. Hahaha!

What a gorgeous day! Dynamic, colorful, tasteful, and relaxing, all at the me time.  :-)

Back in town, a quick shower, a bite to eat, and I had decide to check out the famous local puppet show. And who to I find on my way there...yet again, James, the Scottish I had met on the train to Hsipaw. Seemed like we actually bumped into each other about every day since that day. And stupidly enough, we never ended exchanging contact info, to bad. So I grab him and motivate him to tag along to the show. It wasn't the most incredible or entertaining show ever, but the place and the set up was just by far the most unique and fascinating ever. The third generation puppet master from Bagan had re-arranged his going garage into a puppet pop up curtained stage. Not more than 10 to 12 people could seat. The ceiling was covered in hanging puppets, so were the walls. While his son was cranking up the audio tapes into the player, the master was doing his show. A simple series of 6 particular Burmese dances acted up by 6 different characters. Poor music and dances, but fascinating experience that leaves you in awe and inspired about people's dedication to follow their dreams, no matter their actual talent...all based on their persona and charisma.

So yet another great evening.

The next day, my last day in town, I decide to go back to Indein, but biking this time...a two to two and half hour ride. Manageable I suppose...not the most beautiful or entertaining scenery or ride, but I was the absolute only biker, and every one in pick up trucks would wave at me with big smiles. Two very very old women even blew me kisses. It was adorable.

My bike was the worst I had every been on...but I made it...yet again, before the rain. Uffff...the last two days Inle were definitely rainy ones.

I park my ride and spot out a place to eat. I was starving and dying of thirst. One fried chicken noodle and one fresh coconut. The biggest coconut ever. Probably had two liters if water in it. Such a deliciousssssss lunch...and sure enough, I pay, get up, turn around, and who just makes it in the town riding a bike...James!!!!

We both crack up laughing. :-)

So we walk around and tour some more of the site. It starts raining. So some delicious chai tea with fried dough, playing with the tea stall owner's kids. An hour passes, the rain seems to stop. James and I decided 'it's now or never'. So we hit the road together...and soon enough, the rain starts pouring again. Two hours of pouring rain, while we were the only people on that road. So surreal, but thank god we were riding together. Would have bee hell of a wet boring ride otherwise.

It was so good to make it back to the hotel, and take a good hot shower. Ah!

Et voila, that's pretty much the bulk of my formidable time in Inle lake. 5 days of culturally, visually, athletically rich moments. I loved it.

The following day, in the late afternoon, I embarked a night bus to Yangon where I was to have a life changing spiritual experience...

Friday, October 18, 2013

En route to Hsipaw...

I had read and heard about Hsipaw as being a quite remote little town with access to some very interesting hill tribe trekking trips. Furthermore, Karen mentioned a very peculiar train ride to get there. So, hey, why not?!

My train departed from Mandalay at 4 in the morning. Quite early if you ask me, especially since Mandalay doesn't have much street lighting at all at night.

The 15 minute walk from hotel to train station was quite unique. Trying to find my way in the dark, staying away from the way to healthy stray dogs, and find people here and there to make an attempt at asking for direction.

The train itself seemed OK. Just like any train in that part of the world. Nothing fancy, nothing scary either.

Off course, the train management had to put all the foreigners in the same wagon. The 'upper class' wagon. The one with cushion and reclining seats rather than board plank seats. Sure...after all, 12 hours of train for $9, if that means VIP wagon, OK. :-)

We depart on time. Only 6 or so foreigners in the train. My neighbor happens to be French. One will quickly realize when traveling in Burma that tourists for the most part are either French or German.

An hour later, the train stops...and the stop lasts and lasts...and all we can hear is a sort of commotion a couple of wagons behind...so after a while, Mr curious that I am, I peak through the window and look. Hahahahahahaha! I get back in, get my camera and run out, a group of about 10 men were struggling to try and get an entire flock of goats inside the cargo wagon. Hilarious. Man vs nature, and nature was thus far winning by far. Lol so we got stuck for about an hour like that. At some point, a couple of goats managed to get free and ran through the train station. The men started screening and run all over the place to get them back. It was so comical.

That train ride, for reasons I still can seem to understand, was unbelievably bumpy. Literally, often our whole body would take off from our seats, then we would be pushed really hard right and left. It made me think of a small boat going through a severe storm in the middle of the ocean, but actually much bumpier and more swinging. I am sure Universal Studios would not be able to come up with such a shaky attraction.

Oh, for more strange reasons, even though the train runs everyday and both ways, it felt as if we were trail blazers. Branches would come through the windows, some broken, some slapping the seats. To the point that for a very long period we couldn't even extend our arms out or even a finger or else it would get chopped off. The result, when we finally arrived at destination, the entire floor of the train was a carpet of dried and cut grass, herbs, branches.

But for an even longer part, we were shaving a cliff side extremely close as well, but te entire cliff was covered in mint plants, wild ones I guess. So as the rain drizzled, the air was filled with a delicious scent of fresh mint. It was so surreal...

But after 12 hours, no matter the entertainment of the uniqueness of the ride, I was veeeeeeery glad to finally arrive at destination.

Once in Hsipaw, I quickly inquired about sights to see, and treks to sign up for. For me a 2 days 1 night track for the next morning. But when I asked at the front desk about monasteries (I find them so peaceful and beautiful in this country), I was told that there was a meditation time every evening to which I could go if I wanted to. A young German girl was eves dropping into the info so I asked her if she wanted to go together.

An hour or so later we met up and went on. Ha, Hsipaw has absolutely NO street lights at all whatsoever. Only have to rely on the moon, the stars, and the lights of the scooters or cars driving by. We had to walk for about 20 minutes through dirt paths and exit the village a bit. My headlamp was more than handy in such context. Anyhow, we reach the monastery, actually the pagoda where people were praying and where a monk was chanting prayers. Kind of like a daily mass celebration for catholics. People inside see us and invite us to come in and seat in. Wow! Sure! OK! Would never even have ever thought of doing this. So we, her with the girls in the back and me with the men right up front (like in a mosque), sat there for half an hour until they finished the celebration.

Then, we had hoped that we would be able to chat with the monk and learn a bit about meditation. Ha! No no no. Everyone took a quick mini break, and jumped right into a one hour of meditation. One of the ladies (Mrs Boat) being such a marvelous welcoming and hospitable local asked the monk to put a tape in English to guide us into the beginning of the meditation. So after searching through a bunch of old junk, the monk finds such tape and plays it. We were so privileged in so ,any ways at that moment. It was magical, and so unexpected. So for one hour, we both struggled to try and ignore the storming pain of staying in one position, while trying to make sense of it all and fall into a meditative state on our own and without actual real guidance. Ufff...didn't work for me this time. I think I actually almost fell asleep.

When the whole thing was over, we got a huge smile from the monk and from everyone else there. And Mrs Boat, who we finally meet, asks us to walk with her to her shop/restaurant. OK, what the heck!
So we walk side by side with her and all the other people from the pagoda, in the dark, and through the ruined stupas of the site. The older women, including our host, heil a pickup, and we all jump in for 10 minute till get get to her house/restaurant. She quickly brings out several dishes, and tea for us two and begs us to eat. We met her whole family. Her English is extremely good.

After a long chat, and lots of food, we finally say goodnight and leave. Such a magical night.

Going with the flow, and opening the door to any new opportunity is so rewarding if you are in the right state of mind. Thank you so much Mrs Boat!!!

Next day, a German couple (both mid 30's, she is a nurse and he is a psychological doctor for people with mental illnesses), the absolute slowest walkers i have ever seen in my life, our guide, and myself depart our hotel, Mr Charles at about 9am. Oh yeah, a fun fact about Hsipaw is that every site is either Mr or Mrs something. Mr Food, Mr Shake, Mrs Boat, Mr Drink...

The trekking was just OK. Honestly, after Toraja and Bromo, Ijen, Rinjani, hard to to better...

Mostly corn fields, sesame fields, rice fields...

Though when exiting the village we visited a noodle artisan factory, it was soooo interesting. The whole noodle making process has absolutely nothing with what I would have imagined.

So, when we finally make it to the hill town of Pankam, not a Shan tribe, but a Palaung tribe, originating from the Khmer's in Cambodia, it was a most gorgeous scene. Gigantic and gorgeous pine wood houses on stilts. Kids playing in the uneven and not flat dirt paths. Bamboo gates and fences. Ginormous trees. Women wearing traditional tribal outfits coming back from the fields. Men smoking cigars or chewing bethel. And the whole background was tea tree plantations. Ufff.....! Wow! Beautiful sunset atmosphere...

At night, after diner, I managed to find out that some of the local kids were rehearsing dances for the October full moon light festival...and the rehearsing was taking place in the monastery. Fantastic!!! So I motivate the Germans and the guide to head out there right on time. (Seriously, I actually had to motivate the Germans when the opportunity is already sao excitingly motivating in itself...oh well...). It was such an experience. That large wooden monastery in the middle of the mountain. Kids and their mothers were sitting down on the floor, around the central area of the monastery, watching two girls and two boys rehearsing and learning from a couple of elders the classical peacock dance. And all throughout, the two very very young novice monks, running around "their home" dressed in their red-ish robes. And a tall golden statue of Buddha watching it all happening. Surreal. Barely any light. Just one weak light bulb which seemed to be from the 80's. After a half hour the Germans and the guide left. Pffff! Whatever. And I stayed until the very end, when it was only the boys and men left. All the mothers and their daughters had gone home. And so when the head monk made everyone understand that he wanted to sleep, everyone cleaned up and got on their way out...in the total darkness of the night, on helped by the stars to fond their way back home. And so I did the same....and slept delightfully well. :-)

The next day, after finishing trekking and making it back to Mr Charles Hotel, a quick shower/laundry. And off to take a bus for 17 hours to Inle Lake...

Burma, second impressions...

Today is October 17th, it is 9:09pm. I am laying down on my bed, windows open, and listening to some local kids playing the guitar on the bridge below, as the moon is almost full...i am in Nyaung Shwe, Inle Lake.

Well, Karen back in Yangon was so right...every new stop is only better than the previous so far. Burma IS unique that way.

So after Yangon, I went to Mandalay, only one and a half night, and one full day. But what a fantastic almost 48 hours.

I arrived in town at about 5 in the morning, just as the sun was showing the tip of its first rays. The bus station is located about 40 minutes from the center of town, or at least where I was hoping to find a place to stay. So I quickly negotiate a good price for a scooter ride. And how amazing it was to ride through the town still partially asleep, except for the monks and a few early shop keepers. A magical defile of red robe dressed monks cruising through town to get to their first food gathering chores. And well, when we arrived by the canals surrounding the royal palace, slightly hazy, and the hills in the back...and barely a home on the road...well, that was it, I was under the spell, yet again.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I found Mandalay simply gorgeous...so what!?

I find a good room, with even hot shower and breakfast. Great. I go up, take a quick nap. Well needed after 12 hours in a bus. An am up by 7 am to eat breakfast. Then I book my train ticket for the same night. 12 hours to get to Hsipaw...up north. Then I rent a very basic bike. And off I go, to explore the town and mostly its surroundings like no other tourist dared doing that boiling hot and burning day. I start by looking for the monastery alley. WOW! Oh my god! Magical and so strange at once. Riding through that very long and narrow alley I felt as if traveling back in middle ages times. I was literally saying 'wows' out loud every 2 seconds.

Then after that, I got lost in twisted little dirt path alleys in villages while trying to find the docks and the main slum. More 'wows' yet again...

Finally I find the river shore and the slums along it. Ha! Guess what...more 'wows' I just couldn't believe the beauty of what I was swing, me, the only foreigner around.

Tiny floating bamboo huts spread on the water with narrow bamboo hand made dodgy bridges connecting the whole web together. Then giant bamboo platforms on which the women were washing their clothes and longiis, then spreading all these bright colors all over the platforms, while the kids, bare naked are playing in the chocolate colored river water. And on the shore, flocks of hunch back cows scouting every inch for some sort of grassy substitute while trying to find some shade under the majestic giant centenary baobab looking trees. And in the back ground, a defile of long motorized pirogues zig zagging between the water lilies to go from one side of the shore to the next...anyway, you get the picture...still far from the actual reality! Lol

I spent a good two hours riding through the mud of the slum, and being greeted and smiled at by its so joyful inhabitants. People were were just so welcoming.

Then I headed south, hoping to find somehow the ubber famous U'bein bridge. Probably the second most famous one after the golden gate bridge. Pretty much the longest teak wood bridge in the world. It looked close and easy to find according to the out of proportion to y paper map I had in my sweaty pocket. Oh well...south/south west was the direction, so I check the compass on my watch and went on...pretty much down the river for about two more hours. Ha! Little did I know that I was going way off track. But the road was beautiful. All along the river shore, and under those big trees, there were simple yet comfortable looking two seater bamboo lounge chairs, for couple or potential future couple to come get some shade and further explore their relationship. There were strategically placed umbrellas behind each chair so that it was not possible to see from the road what was happening in the chairs. 

So, about 30 to 35 km south of my hotel, I reach a very long bridge, which looks nice and leads to a beautiful mountain with tons of pagodas. So I think I have reached the famous U'bein, at last. Hahahaha!

When I ask a local where U'bein is (hoping he will confirm my assumption and point at the bridge in front of us), to my disappointment, he tells me I have to head back to Mandalay. No wayyyy!!!

It is already late, about 4 pm and the sun will soon set and I won't see a thing. (Oh yes, VERY important to note that in Burma, unless you are in the very heart of downtown of very large cities, such as pretty much only Yangon, there is no street light infrastructure at night.)

So I head back north while asking every minute for directions again just to confirm that I am on the right track this time. At last I am lucky, yet again, and a local on his scooter offers to escort me all the way as he is going in that direction as well. Yesssss!!!!!

During the 30 or so minutes ride, we go through a weavers village, where huge pine tree wooden houses house numerous weaving machines (yes, whenever people tell you in shop that anything is hand woven, please don't be naive and don't believe them. And take their offering price, divide by two and don't budge until their price reaches yours.), threads of all colors are hung drying, a bit like in Marrakesh, but around pagodas, stupas, and in the streets. Such a delightful unexpected and totally unadvertised spectacle. I decided not to stop and let this be a moment just for myself. No photos. :-)

Finally we reach the bridge...ufffff....tons and tons of people, tourists, locals and foreigner. Never mind, I will come back another day, for sunrise and cross that bridge and take all the photos I want. A bit frustrating though, as the bridge was majestic! I walk around for a bit to take photos of the surroundings as they were quite magnificent as well, yet not at all the center of attention of the tourists.

And then I head back to Mandalay, hoping to make it before dark...another hour of bike before getting to my hotel. Faaaaarrrr...

But on the way, I couldn't help but keep on staring at the people bading in the river. It was beautiful. Everyone spread out between the lilies, and the men actually managing to combine bading up to their chin, and fishing at the same time. Multitasking indeed. Hahaha!

Later on, I absolutely have to stop. I see a bit of commotion on the left, at the entrance of a temple. So curious traveler that I am, I approach...and to my surprise...a soccer game. In the dirt. Players bare feet. No jerseys. And the fans spread out all over, even all over the stupas. Wow! I felt like it was a secret forbidden gathering, not for the eye of the white people. But people dont seem to mind that I am entering with my bike, all the way to the side line. On the contrary, they greet and smile at me.

I stay a bit, take some photos, soak the moment in, and take off. Still quite a bit before I get back home and the sun is only getting lower and lower.

I forgot to mention that the surroundings of Mandalay are not paved. So only dry dirt path...which means lots and lots of dirt dust flying all over. So picture this, plus about 8 to 9 hours on this bike under the burning sun, no air, and barely any cool water. I looked like crap. Seriously, I think I had a layer of dirt all over me, as thick as a T-shirt. Not pleasant at all. By now, I couldn't think about anything else than a freezing cold shower...

Finally I make it home...I shower, and head back out for some food. I walk around for quite a bit before finding a few options that look appetizing. One is an international place, filled indoors with white tourists. Seriously, it felt like all the foreigners of town were in there at the same time. Ufff...no thank you!

Across the street is a place, outdoor, under some trees, filled with people, but the majority of which are bold men with a long beard. Obviously Muslims. Hmmm...can't really see the food not the menu, but so many people must be a good thing, right. So when walking by for the second time, I see this big guy giving me the typical Arabic/Muslim hand gesture that means: "what do you want?". So I answer with the hang gesture that means food. And hop, he calls me in with a big smile. I walk up, and seat down. He gives me a menu in English. Yesssss! (I must say, I have been much lazier at learning Burmese than I was with Indonesian).

I order the traditional sweet tee, and then a chicken biryani. Wow!!!!!!soooooooo yummmmmmy! So simple a dish, yet so perfectly well cooked with all the right ingredients. Burmese's are known for always serving a set of various little plates with all sorts of condiments with each dish you order. Here it was a delicious soup, some pickled sliced onions, and some fresh mint...and some strangely pickled mango slices. So I just pour everything (except the soup which i eat apart) in my main plate to eat it all. Ha! You should have seen the faces of everyone around and off the staff. Not sure they are used to seeing people actually eating the mint and even less so a foreigner. So quickly they come get the little plate that had all the mint leaves in it before I finished it up...and after some time they bring me a new plate with a fresh pile of mint in it. To this day, I am convinced that they did this because the first batch of mint I was served was bit washed with purified water. So nice to see how attentive they were. When I am done, the big bearded guy comes back to my table, we start chatting a bit, and he quickly indicates to me another place across the street where they serve his favorite desert: 'kulpi'. OK, why not. Wow! Another territory of flavors I didn't know existed.

So finally, it is 9 pm when I go to sleep...after having packed my bags. My train departs at 4am...so I have yet another short night ahead...

...sweet and few dreams...

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Burma...voila!

Today is October 11th, it is now 7:45pm. I am sitting on bus to get from Yangon to Mandalay...a 10 to 15 hr ride...the music presently playing in the bus is strangely very much sounding like African music. I asked my neighbor, it is actually not music but Buddhist prayers. Ahahaha!

My first impressions of Burma, but mainly Yangon for now are beyond any expectations!

Everyone I had met had raved about Burma and how it had been spectacular for them...

So far, I must say that there are two countries in the world that stay true to their reputation and that only amaze you more the minute you step in the country: Brazil, and now Burma.

I think I want to rename Yangon the Havana of Asia (you can even drink a glass of fresh sugar cane juice at ever street corner!!!),. It exudes such a similar vibe in terms of architecture and infrastructure. People piled on top of each other in cages. Very old and washed off buildings. Except that the street life in Yangon is way more active and busy.

But let me rewind a bit...

After spending a very short but delightful afternoon with Olivier and Sybille in their new apartment in bangkok, I made my long way, yet once again to bkk international airport.

Annoying process to do my check in with Burmese airline...which ended up costing me $5 for two photo copies of my return flight!!!

And so I am sitting in the boarding room, eating for my flight to board. I try to spot out the other few foreigners, in order to anticipate and see if maybe I find someone to share a cab ride and perhaps a guesthouse room once landed in Yangon. (All the books and forum repeat so often how expensive it has gotten to travel through Burma). The first person I spot is a going girl reading a book. OK, why not.

She seems to have a cold and to be looking for tissues, so I quickly land a hand and give her my pack of tissues. We start chatting.

She is actually american, her and her boyfriend have been living and working in Yangon for a year. She currently works for the International Refugee Center (not totally sure about the acronym IRC). Her name is Karen, she is 24, from Chicago. I ask her for tips and advice in terms of destinations and logistics. Just in case...

We land, and meet up again right in front of the door to exit the airport. I was waiting for her while chatting in Spanish with a local guide. Lol funny moment...

I ask if she wants to share a cab, and she offers to crash at her place. Hell yeah!

It's funny, she reminded me so much of Heather, Jonathan's wife, back in Toronto.

And so we spent te whole ride chatting about NGOs and the industry. Exciting!

They live in an area (Tamwe) where only locals live, a bit remote from the downtown core where all foreigners hang out. So even better...some great local experience, yet with the comforting experience of a foreigner who knows the city. My luck!!!

I spent my first two days and two nights at Karen and Marc's place.

One of the main signs proving that Yangon, despite its fast pace of development, is still quite a preserved and authentic not a on touristy place is the fact that I barely saw any foreigners (maybe 8 max in a 4 hour span) on the site of the main tourist attraction of he city as well as the most important religious site of the whole country. Further to that, in two days of walking just about all over te city, I have only seen two small tourist offices. Which is just unbelievable! In Ubud, Bali, you see more tourist offices than places to buy a bottle of water.

Oh, and for the first time ever in my traveler's life, no one, but really no one in the streets, speaks a word of English.

It really shows that Yangon is still very far from being a tourist oriented city. Fantastic! I arrives at the right time! Yay!!!

Funny though, because on the cover of one of the local English magazines it says "tourists are coming, get ready!".

The street food in Yangon is simply amazing. A mix of Indian, Chinese, Thai, Indonesian, and culinary creativity. Never mind Bangkok or Kuala Lumpur, just check out Yangon!

Burma has a strong tea culture. Very much like Morocco or Paris with their coffee culture, more so for men, on both cases. The funny thing though is that al the common tea houses have low plastic chairs and tables, kind of like the ones kids use in the west because they are at the right height for children. The teas served, with different degrees of sweetness, are delicious. A mix between the Indonesian and Indian teas.

One of the most positively shocking observation thus far, and especially compared to Indonesia, is that here no one smokes. Seriously, in two days I have not seen more than a dozen people with a cigarette. The might be due to cost, (not sure yet if Burma produces tobacco), and the fact that every male chews on bethel nut. Or simply perhaps Buddhism says something against tobacco. Some more research awaits me I suppose...

I was also shocked to observe that here, contrary to Indonesia, bethel nut is only chewed by men. While in Indonesia, it was 100% a women's affaire where each woman, especially in the villages, would have a little velvet purse containing all the equipment to arm a complete dose of bethel nut to masticate, here, it is sold, ready to chew, pretty much at every street corner. And men of all ages consume it on a permanent basis. Such a strange contrast...

One of the most beautiful sights when walking around in the morning is the groups of girl monks, all dressed in light pink, and carrying traditional umbrellas, going around the neighborhoods collecting food and money. All with shaved heads, and are usually very very young, between 7 and 15 years old!

Throughout the whole day you can see flocks of monks, male and female, but never male and female together, hovering the city its different neighborhoods, to collect food and money from people and businesses. It is so strange because the more I observe this daily practice and the more I get the feeling that becoming a monk is not a spiritual choice but rather an easy and finance free solution to live for people with financial challenges. Furthermore, my naive and relatively poor exposure and education about Buddhist monks thus far handled me to strongly believe that monks were receiving a superior education on top of their high spirituality, and that all strived to interact as much as possibly with foreigners in order to further that education. Well, I now realize I was totally wrong. I asked so many monks today for simp,e direction in order to try and kick start a conversation or at least some sort of social interaction, and none, absolutely none tried to make an effort to help or communicate. So disappointing...but I will persist...28 days in this country to learn more. :-)

So far Burmese people appear to be quite full of beauty. Both men and women exude not only physically but also personality wise, something I did not observe in either Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand. Furthermore, everyone initially looks at you in a strange way, worth a serious and suspicious face (a bit normal given the extremely low quantity of foreigners around), but as soon as you smile at them, their fave lights up and they smile back.

Dis you know that there is a motorcycle ban in the city of Yangon? It is apparently due to the fact that years back, the relative of a high official died in a moto accident. So since then, motos have been banned in the city. This leads to a high flow of bicycle throughout the city.

Another 'fun' fact is that cars in Burma drive on the right side of the road...despite the fact that a good 95% of all cars have the steering wheel on the right side of the car. Burmese used to drive on the left side of the road during British occupation, but one day, the opposing government decided, over night, to switch from left to eight, just to make a statement and symbolically part from the British. Since then, local car dealerships have not really updated their stock I suppose. And neither have the bus dealerships, which, as a consequence, and to prevent from accident, leads buses to need one of the two driving crew to peak through the windows to alert other cars that the bus is turning to the left.

The traffic in Yangon is just insane! I thought I had seen the worst between Sao Paolo and Bangkok, but Yangon reaches a whole different level. At least with the rarity of traffic light, the total absence of police officers, and the partial presence of street light at night, it create an atmosphere of stillness. Walking tends to be faster than taking a car. However the heat is so disgustingly unbearable that taking a seems yet the better option.

The public transportation is amazing here. Options are train (very slow, unreliable, and only looping around the city), trishaw (an old style bicycle with a side seat), standard sort of modern buses, very old fashioned buses all made of wood inside, pick up trucks arranged with seats on the sides in the back, and huge cargo trucks, arrange the same way as the pick up trucks. And classic taxis. The biggest challenge making it almost impossible when away from the main axis is that both numbers and destinations are written in Burmese, which even for the number has nothing to do with our usual Arabic numbers, and scripts. So taxis, trishaws, and your legs are usually the best options based on your budget. :-)

Another fun strange fact is that until a year or so ago, if you wanted to buy a SIM card for your phone, it would cost you around $USD2,000! Today it still cost a few hundred US dollars!...yet, all the locals have a cell phone, and most even have a smart phone. Yet another thing I need to research and better understand.

The more pagodas/temples I see, and the more I realize how much gold, literally, tons of gold donated in each temple, when the country's majority of the population is extremely poor. I just don't get it. How can faith be so blind that it makes you put your entire life, hopes, and money in the hands of something so virtual and abstract as religion?! Life is not fair, and your destiny doesn't depend on god's will but on your own. So move your ass and stop waiting and praying. Just get moving and doing. Plus, with all the money that temples get I do far haven't seen a single monk actually do something for the community, I am so confused...

OK, let's end this post on my favorite fun stuff about Yangon: the "buzzer" system at apartment buildings. Very very archaic yet ingenious and efficient: a long string tied to your balcony or window with a little bell at your apartment level, and a hook or bucket at the street level, with the number of your apartment on it. (Most buildings have only one apartment per floor). I love it!

OK...Mandalay is for the next post...but I should warn you that Karen told me that Yangon is just the beginning...every next destination will be better than the previous one...and well...after a whole day in Mandalay, she was sooooo right!!!
(Though I started this post in the bus in Yangon, I am finishing it in the lobby of the hotel I am staying at in Mandalay).

Good night!



Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Pit stop in Thailand before Burma...

So I had 5 days to kill in Thailand right before flying to Burma. I had to book my flights before even having my visas secured, just to secure decent prices...

Anyhow, so I figured I would change scenery and not stay in bkk, but rather head north to Chiang May.

My bus arrived in Chiang may, from bkk, at 1:30am. The bus terminal is about 6km away from the city. I had no map, and had not even looked up a single info about the city before coming. So pretty much, I landed 'blind'. Uffff!!!!! After 11 hours of bus, I needed a stretch anyway, so I walked all the way to the city...well...the city very much asleep. Wow! How the hell was I going to find a place to sleep!?

After walking an hour to the city and then another half hour randomly trying to find light and people to ask direction, i bump into this foreigner who is on a scooter. Her must surely know his way around, being out so late and on a scooter, so I ask him...he gives me direction...and I go on...walking....

10 minutes later, he shows up from nowhere. Tells me to jump on, he will help me out and take me to a few places. Grrrreat!

We drove around for one hour before finding a place. Uffff! Thank you so much! His name is Scott, he actually is a cop from California, on vacation. His 4 th time in Thailand this year!!! Lol I guess the cops in the US might just have as good a social benefit package as the cops in france...

The next day...

Janice had told me in Jakarta about a great NGO (Warm Heart Children Homes) founded by two of her former MBA teachers, so I wanted to check them out and learn more about their story.

After a few emails I was finally able to connect with them and arrange for a meet up. Plan was, two days and one night to hang out with Evelind, who is the co-founder and Treasurer of Warm Heart (Michael, her husband is currently fundraising in the US), to chat extensively about their project.

Ha! When I got there, at night, didn't get to see much other than the few little kids who were still up. So I went to sleep.
The next day, at breakfast, I started chatting with the volunteers onsite who were helping out with different initiatives. I clicked right away with Ben, who is a well traveled and volunteered British guy my age, and who is helping the put some order and manage the center for a few months; and Joseph and Rebecca, who founded Goodwill Globe trotting, and are volunteering to build up an outdoor playground/gym/fitness/muay Thai area for the older kids.

Well, between goodwill globetrotting and warm heart, I managed to meet on the same day, two initiatives which pretty much make up the core of what my long term dreams have been for a long time.

Warm heart basically houses 40 kids from hill tribes families who cannot really provide a positive and educated environment for their kids, and try their best at mentoring the kids throughout their middle and highschool, to help them get access to better opportunities than working the farms like their parents. They also include a micro enterprise component by helping artisans perfect their art and then promote and export it to potential mass buyers. And they are currently also trying to develop a geriatric support and therapy initiative. In other words, they are all over the place.

Goodwill globetrotting, well, they are two young Texans my age, who are passionate about a traveling the world and helping people. They have traveled a lot but got bored to travel without a real purpose. So they do all they can to go back home for 6 to 9 months to make some money, fill up their savings via small jobs, as well as fund raising initiatives, and then travel for a while and consult on various development projects around the world. On top of that, they have created a support network for NGOs to help them with on demand needs of resources and volunteers.

I don't think I am actually doing either project justice with my simple descriptions, but please visit their websites and get inspired like I did:

http://warmheartworldwide.org

http://www.goodwillglobetrotting.org

So I actually ended up not doing much chatting with Evelind, but rather mostly physical work with the volunteers to help move as forward as possible with the build up of the playground.
Wow! I never thought that all these years of living on a construction site in Morocco would ever pay off. Lol. But it did.
I absolutely loved working with them on this common objective and learnt so much in the process about the two NGOs. Fascinating!
I ended up spending two nights there. I didn't want to leave any more. If it wasn't for Burma and the plane tickets I bought, I would still be there and help finishing up the playground.

Anyhow...I am now back to the bus terminal...my bus back to bkk is at 11pm...and another 10 hour bus ride.

Funny little story before posting and running to catch my bus:
I have a few more Thai bahts left in my pocket, so i decide to go for a foot massage. Yay!!!!!

I walk into this super sketchy hotel lobby (remember, I am outside the city, at a late night bus terminal). I ask for a massage. The front desk kid gives me a room key and tells me to just walk up....hmmmmm...OK. I do.
There, a very plumpy lady welcomes me. Aiiii...scary. A mattress on the floor...she says 'Thai massage?'. I say 'no'. I don't want someone to twist me like a rubber band. I want a deep tissue massage. So I tell her I want a foot massage. Okidoki...we walk down to the mezzanine right above the front desk. I seat down a plastic chair. And she starts. Eh, boring....barely pressing on the muscles. Hmmm...I tell her to go deeper once....and again, to light...hmmm...I tell her again.-.then walk down two other women, including a much older one. So she asks for help.

I knew that such context would have to lead to some unique and entertaining situation. Hahaha!
All of an sudden, all three women are leaning on my feet and massaging them. Hilarious. Almost as if the older woman was giving a class to then other younger ones. And it goes on for an hour. A six hand foot massage. Hahahaha!

So funny!

OK...gotta run!!!!!

Bonne nuit!

See you in Burma...or not. ;0)