Goodbye Chiang Mai
It was the perfect ending to what has been for the past three weeks, my perfect place. As the sun set over the hills casting dramatic and beautiful streaks of light across the sky, I was reminded of an ancient Native American tradition someone recently taught me. Looking out on the place you are about to bid farewell to, you open your arms and take a deep breath in. When you exhale you bring your hands to your heart, theoretically bringing the place into your heart. By doing so, even when you are very far away you can always come back to this place which is now inside yourself. I may have looked like a crazy person out there on the hotel pool deck overlooking the city, performing this ritual, but I didn’t care. I wanted Chiang Mai close to my heart forever, for it became a place that meant more to me than I could have ever imagined.
It is amazing that three weeks have gone by so quickly, yet confusing at the same time because it seems like it has been much longer. As I walk around the city now, I almost feel like I live here. There is an old man who drives a “bike taxi” that I’ve seen every single day for three weeks. And every single day we have smiled and waved at each other, and every single day because of him I have felt that much happier.
The bike taxi is a bicycle that has a small two wheeled carriage attached to the back where you can fit one, maybe two people. I had yet to ride in one of these, so as I passed my bike friend today I thought, “Hey, why not?!” When I approached him for a ride he looked very surprised and excited. I was his first customer in a while. Moments later there I was sitting in the little carriage, cruising down the street. Only we weren’t exactly cruising. What I had failed to notice before was that my bike friend was actually a one legged bike friend. However, this was no problem at all. He proceeded to proudly ride his bike down the street waving at everyone we passed, always to be met with a huge smile, especially from the walkers who frequently passed us. I was both amazed and deeply inspired by this man who pedaled the bike, the carriage, and myself all with power of just one leg. We only went about five blocks, but they were some of the best five blocks of my life.
Right before my heart warming bike ride I had a bike ride of a different kind. It was my favorite kind, you know, the kind with a motor on it that goes really fast! My journey to Thailand would not have been complete with out a ride on a motorcycle seeing as they are the main form of transportation here. You see entire families flying down the street on one motorbike; baby in front, father driving, another kid behind dad, mom hanging off the back holding the other two. Sometimes dad gets on the cell phone too, just to add to the chaos of the moment. I had my own dreams of flying down the road on a motorbike, not necessarily with a family of five, but on my own gazing out over the rice fields. However, I was skeptical about my ability to even make it out of the city, so I never rented one. My dream came true today when I was at my last session with Master Poo. After feeling like I had, to put it as nicely as I can, just gotten the shit kicked out of me one last time by the Master, his wife offered to give me a ride home. I went from feeling virtually dead to jumping out of my pants excited when she revved up the scooter and told me to hop on. I rolled up the Thai pants, slung my bag over my shoulder, slid the shades on, and we were off. “Do you mind taking the long way?” I asked. She looked back at me and winked, “Is there any other way?”
This was by far and away the most exhilarating of all my Thailand experiences, even more so than my death defying elephant ride. Thailand seems to be devoid of all traffic laws, turning the road into a free for all where the biggest guy always wins. The good thing is that the competition is fairly even with almost everyone on scooters. At one point we were lined up at a major intersection with 16 other scooters. I counted. Now these scooters were not all nicely lined up one behind the next like you might see at an intersection in say, Sweden. No, not in Chiang Mai. Here it was like a dog pile of scooters. “I feel like we are in a race!” I said to Karen (Poo’s wife) still loving every moment of this scooter adventure. “Yeah, well don’t get too excited, I don’t think we’re going to win” she said as our little scooter puttered struggling to get off the line.
We crossed the bridge over the beautifully brown Ping River, waifs of sewage blowing through our hair. Now I know it sounds pretty nasty, but I tell you, I could have been covered in sewage and still had the biggest smile on my face!
Once back at the hotel I took care of a few last minute things to get ready for my 6am departure tomorrow, and then I remembered one last thing I needed to take care of.
There is a girl named Nit who is the “receptionist” at a place where I frequently get massages. It was love at first sight for Nit and I. She loved my blond hair and the fact that I was from “USA!” and I loved her big smiling brown eyes. We instantly became friends. One night I walked in wearing the shirt from the Loi Kroh Massage School I’ve been attending. She clasped her hands together and jumped up and down like a four year old at her birthday party. “Loi Kroh Massage!!! I want to go! I want to go! You go? I want to go!” We talked about the school for a little while and it quickly became clear to me that this girl had a dream, and that dream was to go to the Loi Kroh Massage School. It was the look of hope in her eyes that gave me the idea to do what I did next.
Today had been my last day at the school. I excitedly received my diploma and tearfully said goodbye to my teacher, so she was a little surprised to see me running back in the door only a few hours later. I explained to her that I had a friend who really wanted to come to school, but couldn’t afford it, so I wanted to pay for her to attend their beginning course. Technically I couldn’t really afford it either, but I also knew that one night of work back in Aspen would cover the whole thing, and how great would it be to help someone achieve their dream?
My teacher Napa was a little confused on how to go about this, but she loved the idea so we devised a plan and off I went to find Nit. When I told her about it, her big smiling eyes turned into big teary smiling eyes, and then she gave me the biggest hug I have ever gotten from such a small person. We talked about it for a while, but regretfully in the end she declined my offer. She said she was working too much and could not take the time off needed to take the course. I could see the sadness in her eyes, so we came up with a new plan. I promised to come back someday and I would teach her myself, then the two of us could learn and practice together. Who knows if it will ever happen, but I have a good feeling it will.
Of all the wonderful things about Chiang Mai what I will miss most are the people. They are so full of happiness and grace, it almost seems contagious. I will never forget the wise words of my teacher Napa, a woman who simply radiates grace, “You must see the world through your heart and hands. If you do that, then the eyes always see beauty.”
Tomorrow night I will find myself in Bali ready for yet another adventure. I have no idea what to expect, though I am very intrigued as I have been told by six different people that they ”have a feeling” I will end up living in Bali………..
Master Poo Strikes Again
Today was to be my second session with Master Poo, one I had been both eagerly and fearfully awaiting. I arrived at his house where my anxiety disappeared the instant I saw his smiling face. This man knows what he’s doing. I laid down on the mat and he assumed his usual starting position, grasping the incense and praying before Buddha. I observed the offerings of the day. The coconuts were still there, but now a large bunch of bananas had joined them. Buddha eats well. Soon Master Poo was in front of me, beginning with the starting prayer. This time I kept my eyes open to watch the intensity on his face. His expression is something else. I don’t even think a photograph could capture it. Suddenly, he stops and looks at me wide eyed. “You have the moon!” he says and points to his low belly. A moon cycle is an ancient yogic reference to a woman having her period. Good thing I knew this, or else I would have though he was telling me I was pregnant.
Shocked I said, “Yes I do.” “It start today,” he replies with a smile.
Shocked again I say, “Yes it did.” He starts laughing and I am left dumbfounded. How the hell did he know that? I wonder. We haven’t said anything more than “hi” to each other. I’m even wearing white pants (something women typically don’t do when having their period, which after realizing this I gave a quick glance at, no sign of the moon though).
“Your energy is so hot. I could even feel it burn my lip. I knew it was moon.” He gets up, replaces the magic beads back around Buddha’s neck and grabs his calendar. He cannot work on me while I am on the moon, we will just have to wait until I come back to earth I guess 
He explains to me that we must wait for the moon to go away because my body will not accept the healing energy while it is on the moon.
“When does moon end?” he asks. I point on the calendar to six days from now. He then points to three days from now.
“If you drink only warm water and eat only warm food, moon gone here. You come back Friday and then we can work,” he says with a huge smile. “Powerful moon,” he says, now giggling. I was convinced before that Master Poo held some sort of magical powers, now I would bet my life on it. He is beginning to make me question just about everything I know. Then again, maybe it’s just because I am on the moon!
Elephant Trek
Treking through the jungle on the back of an elephant was not exactly something I’d expected to be doing in this lifetime. But because life is full of many wonderful surprises, this was exactly where I found myself two days ago.
When I originally signed up for the trip I had visions of the “elephant trek” consisting of a long wait in line, then getting on top of the elephant and being lead around in a circle, a picture or two taken, and that would be it. Thankfully, my ideas were very wrong. When we arrived at the elephant treking place I could see elephants freely roaming about the field in the distance. The only other thing in sight was a small thatched roof hut, not exactly touristy or commercial. In order to get to the elephants we had to cross a river on a very high strung bamboo suspention bridge that swung unstabily back and forth with each step. In addition, we had to go one at a time. I did not ask why, but i’m guessing we would have seen that bridge drowning to its watery death in the river had there ever been more than 300lbs on it at any one time.
Once “safely” on the other side, I found myself surrounded by elephants. My jaw dropped and the camera came out. You’d think I’d never seen an elephant before. Then again I really haven’t, only from far away at the zoo maybe ten years ago. There were about five small but very tough looking Thai guys playing around with the elephants. These guys I would soon learn, were our guides; five foot tall, hash smoking, machete carying elephant guides.
“Holy shit” I said to the two other American grils as we stood on the porch of the thatched hut ready to mount our elephants, “this would never go down in the US.” They nodded, a look of fear in their eyes.
Our group consisted of nine people, I being the ninth. Everyone else was magically in pairs, so that meant I would be riding my elephant solo. I was informed of this as I was climbing onto my elephant, which was more of a jump than a climb from the platform to the “saddle.”
“Sweet saddle,” I mumbled to myself nervous and sarcastically as I gave the thing a once over. The best way to describe it is a metal piece of crap attached to the elephant by what looked like twine. “I am totally going to die in the jungle from falling off an elephant!” I thought to myself, “who would’ve thought?!” Everyone else had their compantion to cling to and discuss just how sketchy the situation seemed, but not me. I was left with no one to talk to but my elephant so I thought, “well, might as well make friends with the beast!”
From then on I spoke to the elephant as if it was my six year old daughter, playing her fisrst soccer match. “Common girl, you can do it! Oh yeah! Just a little to the right, perfect! Noo no no no not over there! Stay focused, stay focused!” The intensity of our relationship grew with each step deeper into the jungle.
The “path” we were on might have deserved to be called a path had it not been raining for the past 5 days and still doing so. Since we were in the middle of a down pour, the trail had been transformed into a mini Amazon, becoming quite the challenge for the elephants to find secure footing. The guides seemed unphased by their struggle, then again they seemed unphased by just about anything that occured, including one of the elephants simply wondering off in to the jungle. The guides would sit on the elephant’s head, feet dangling off, huge joint in one hand, huge machete thing in the other. Minus the cameras and the North Face backpacks, we looked like a native tribe going on a tiger hunt.
After about 15 minutes on the elephant I decided that I might as well get over the fear and get into the whole situation. So, I got out of my saddle and got down on to the elephant’s back, squeezing with my legs to stay on. If I were going togo down, I was gonna do it bareback damnit! No sissy saddle for me (this manuver was suggested by the guide who seemed to think that the saddle wasn’t going to stay on once we started going down hill). Oddly enough, it was much more comfortable just riding on the back. Besides, now I felt like a real tiger hunter!
We had one final descent before we returned back to camp, and the rain was really coming down now. The trail was what I would call “skiably steep”. I would have second guessed going down it on a mountain bike, let alone an elephant. But what was I going to do, jump off the freaking elephant? So I leaned back and put my dormant skiing leg muscles to work, inner thies and quads burning. At one point, the elephant in front of mine was slidding down the mud trail, all of its four legs together like a tall skinny bar stool. Not the greatest for stability I would imagine. I started speaking to my elephant again, “common baby, you got it! Eye on the trail, stay strong!” Thank god I couldn’t see its legs as we slid down or I just might have jumped off.
Once back at camp, fully soaked to the bone, I figured all of the excitement was over. I should have known better. To get off the elephant the guides would kick the beast’s back legs causing it to lower to the ground. Then the passenger has about a 5 foot jump off. No so bad, except my elephant refused to lower to the ground. “Jump off the head” the guide yelled to me. “What?” I said, having heard exactly what he just said. “Off the head!” he yelled back. “Alrighty then,” I said scouting my landing and laughing at the rediculousness of the situation. I was about to slide/jump off the head of an elephant into a sea of about six other elephants. I considered busting out a spread eagle as I launched off the head, but the take off was sketchy, so I thought it best to stick to a simple clean air. I landed splat in the mud, looking up at my elephant who I swear was laughing at me. “Thanks buddy,” I said picking myself up off the ground, pretty happy to still be alive.
All in all it was one of the greatest things I’ve ever done, and I wouldn’t have wanted to do it any other way. It may seem like a long shot as you sit reading this from your computer screen, but you too just might find yourself treking through the jungle on the back of an elephant. You never know what lies just around the corner, and that is the best part!
The Best Hug
One of my favorite things to do here in Chiang Mai is to go out in the early evening when the light is at its best, low and dramatic, and park myself on a busy corner with nothing but my camera (my passport comes too, it has not left its little place around my neck since I arrived). I stay in the same place for up to an hour and ”click click click” at all the beautiful chaos going on around me.
Tonight was the perfect evening. It rained most of the day, then cleared in the late afternoon. You could see a look of relief on everyones’ faces, locals and tourists alike. The need for a break from the rain was felt by all. I personally did a victory dance in the middle of the street the second the raindrops ceased to fall from the sky (anything seems to go here, no one even gave me an odd glance).
Tonight I picked my corner in the heart of the Night Bazar. In no less than five minutes I was approached by the Hill Tribe women. These women wonder around the Night Market, dressed to the hilt in their traditional clothes, trying to sell jewelry and these little wooden frogs that make a noise identical to the real croke. Since my first time in the night market I was captivated by these women. They look beautiful in all their bright colors, wearing huge headresses strung with large metal beads and dangly bits, the last thing anyone would want to wear in the heat of May (the hottest month in Thailand), and without the slightest looks of discomfort on their faces. They are by far the pushiest sales people of the Night Market. I’ve watched with great entertainment as they’ve freaked out some of the overly stressed out tourists, but this is why I love them. So far they have left me alone, not tonight.
I brought it on myself because I started taking pictures of them. I think it was hard not to notice this huge black lense pointed right at them, but never mind the camera, they saw it as a sales opportunity and were on me like a moth to the flame. I smiled a lot and let them show me all of their goods. They even got me to play the wooden frog thing, which was actually very cool. Then I asked if it was OK to take their picture by pointing to my camera then their faces. They smiled like good troopers and let me shoot away. Realizing I was not going to buy anything they moved on, all but one. I think she likes to work the same corner I’ve chosen, so we hang out. We try to talk, her in her language, me in mine, but it’s not really getting us anywhere. We are both laughing though at our inability to communicate, regardless she seems to be enjoying my company. She tells me, using hand motions that she has 5 babies, 3 my height and two as tall as my knees. Then she asks me if I have any babies, when I say no, she seems a little disapointed. Soon we are surrounded by a large group of people crossing the street. The disapointment esapes her face and she goes back to work, trying to lure people in with the croking frog. Nobody bites. The crowd disapates and we smile and laugh more. I think we both have found it pretty wonderful that we are just hanging out on the corner together, two strangers from what might as well be two different planets, but who are both brought together by comon desire; the desire to laugh with a stranger.
The next thing I know, she has her arm around me, saying all sorts of things in her language and laughing. I believe I have just been accepted as her new friend. Her new white, blonde, english speaking, huge camera carying, gaint (I am towering over her, a new thing for me who is 5′4″ on a good day) friend. We are now hanging out on our corner, with our arms around each other laughing.
It was a moment I wanted to hang onto forever. Her hug gave me enough warmth and happiness to run on for the next five years. A simple hug, from a woman who was 15 minutes earlier a total stranger, and now someone I will remember for the rest of my life.
I hope I have inspired you to go hug someone….anyone.
“You carry with you, around you, in you, the atmosphere created by your actions, and if what you do is beautiful good and harmonious, then your atmosphere is beautiful good and harmonious.”
Compassion
It was mid afternoon and I was sitting outside at a cafe (aka food shack) loving every moment of the temporary break from the rain. Just as I was about to dive into my very delicious smelling vegetarian yellow curry a very poor looking man approached me from across the street. Using his hands he pointed at my food, then gestured towards his mouth. He was asking me if he could eat my food. I half smiled a pitty smile, (these are the worst!) and turned my gaze downward unsure of what to do. The single female travler side of me, also known as my overly alert head, felt like I had acted just as I should. The compassionate side of me, my heart, was angry at my response.
“Why didn’t you just give him your food?” it asked, “you could have easily spent 60 Baht ($2USD) on another meal. He needed it.”
“But you should just ignore these situations to play it safe.” responeded my head.
The debate between my heart and my head went on like this for about five minutes. By the time I looked up again, the man was long gone. “Damn,” I thought to myself, “I should have done it, I should have just given him my food. He certainly needed it more than I.”
Next time I’m presented with a situation like this I will listen to my more compassionate side. It’s through small acts of kindness and reaching out that we can really make a difference, especially if you do them every day.
“Act as if the future of the world depends on you, while laughing at yourself for thinking your actions make any difference.” ~Buddhist Advice
