jessica's travel pages

Morocco

2008-01-12T21:45:00.000-08:00

I would call myself a seasoned traveler. I would call myself experienced. I would even stretch so far as to say I could be an authority on navigating new places. However, nothing could prepare me for Marrakech. It wasn’t that we couldn’t handle the frenzy or manage the chaos, it was day after day of prayer horns, solicitation, marriage proposals, and shady propositions…. that I just needed my calm home in the west. To be fair, I had been traveling for 2 weeks, thus nearing exhaustion before I even set foot in North Africa. Had I arrived in the cacophony of Marrakech first, I might have looked upon it with more affection. I found it to be full of amazing color and contrasts, rich with wonderful foods and tastes, intriguing with the many mazes of souqs and street markets. However, the city, in its toast to tourism, has lost its charm. White robed snake charmers lined the square of the Jemma Al Fna touting “dangerous” cobras & pythons. In reality, they were a sad representation of a lost art, their masters having sewn their mouths shut ….allowing them to die a slow painful death of starvation. Monkeys were being thrown on passerbys as novelties, while tethered with heavy and painful metal collars. Henna artists would grab the arms of women walking by, painting their hands with no warning or permission. All these touts would then demand 10 Euros for their “services.” Having already wandered the streets of remote Rajasthan in India, with friendly (and free) monkeys skimming by at my feet and cobras a thing to be feared & respected, I was less than impressed with the exotic “show” in the “big square” of Marrakech. I was actually angered by the outrageous display of extortion by the natives onto the tourists. In my opinion, it was not a good marketing campaign.

I've never not been fond of a location before. I’m usually able to find something rare, beautiful and charming about a place I encounter. I don’t know if it was the constant noise, the relentless touts, or the incessant chaos, but I never was able to truly see Marrakech. I think this in of itself describes the very blood that feeds the city. A blur of disorder, bedlam and commotion, it is something in which to be absorbed in order to see. The challenges of immersion certainly rang true as we explored this hectic nation.

We agreed upon a desert “trek” to the edge of the Western Sahara…not to be confused with the country the state department will not allow us to visit. Upon reaching Zagora by car, we continued by camel for another hour into the desert where we spent the night. It was the coldest night of my life. The stars were astounding, but far outshone by the cold. Seeing the sun finally peek through the tent after a long night of shivering, my first thought not being light, but warmth.

I would never presume to think that my amazing experiences were ones to ever consider taking for granted. I love that I’ve seen stars from the Sahara. I love that I’ve traversed a desert oasis. I love that my world is so big. I would never want to convey that I don’t find my experiences rich and full of blessings. I can’t fault Marrakech. It truly is what it is. I just personally couldn’t find the corresponding beat. I was always out of rhythm and never heard the song that so many find fascinating and magnificent about Morocco. I won’t say the colors, the products, the beautiful ceramic tagines aren’t marvelous displays of Berber wares, I just found that our personalities don’t exactly click. I would be willing to go on another date, maybe to the calmer northern city of Fez, where the chaos of Morocco I’m told is lessened. I hope for another chance encounter, but for now, a distant memory of pandemonium will be my minds eye to the beautiful land of North Africa.

Rome

2007-06-17T16:34:00.000-07:00

Having not been to Rome since high school, I was eager to arrive. Our train into the city went smoothly as possible, although crowded. Standing room only and painfully hot, I prayed for high speeds into Rome. I saw a man with a Florida Gator hat on and knew we could immediately bond over SEC football. Not really a Florida fan, I still always support my conference, so I told him the “Ohio State, Property of University of Florida” joke.. As it turns out, he played for Florida, and his son was a linebacker for the Forty-Niners. (the Colts/Broncos/Cowboys trio combo in me prevents me from rooting for San Francisco, I’m a traitor to my city, I know). But I digress. We had a wonderful discussion about the BCS and the SEC and the Pack 10. I’m sure the locals on the train were eager to get away from the Americans and their “football” talk. Talking with he and his wife made the voyage to Rome manageable. A lovely couple, they ended up hanging with us for the day.

St. Peters Basilica was the same as I remember it. Beautifully Baroque, the height of the dome still impresses. The bronze Baldachino, Michaelangelo’s “Pieta” and the ornate work of the basilica were as extraordinary to me as they were in my memory as a girl of fourteen. The adult just had the better camera.

Standing in line to observe the Sistine Chapel wasn’t a thrill, yet the responsibility of the Rome visitor. Since I skipped it on the last trip, I deemed it important this time around. Heading in to the Vatican Museum, the crowd thickening, room after room, thinking each room would soon hail the long awaited chapel. After the second hour of the procession toward the famous ceiling, I repeatedly remarked, (room after room), “are we there yet.” Finally, feet sore, we saw the famous finger of God that everyone wished to see, sat for a bit to rest and realized how hungry we were after such an early morning and long day thus far. So?... when in Rome? Pizza !

Stuffed from our traditional Italian lunch, we scrambled on a cross town bus to the Forum of Rome and the Coloseum. The heat was immense and somewhat overwhelming. I thought to myself, hey, the Trevi Fountain isn’t far from here. Do you think we would get arrested if we took a little swim? We didn’t chance it, although quite tempting.

Our time in Rome was coming to a close. We had timed it just so in order to get the right train. However, any of you having traveled to Italy might understand the train situation. They often either strike, or just go to lunch, …for a long time. We were on the right train, just about 40 minutes too late. As our embarkation time loomed, we began to worry a bit more. Heather suggested we start walking the train to find out if there were any other Princess Cruise passengers. Yelling out “Princess? Princess? Are you Princess,” I have to laugh at what only ended up being Italians on board must have been thinking of the American loudmouths running through the train yelling about Princesses. We must have looked like idiots. We had to live up to our reputation I guess. Having found no other Princess Cruises passengers, the worry became panic as I called the port. Of course, no answer so I called every Civetiviccia number I had. Finally getting a human, I best explained in Englitalian that we were coming…”Please don’t leave us !!” This was starting to be a theme, and one I already knew my mother and I would encounter on this trip. It seems we are always running after a train, a boat, a ferry, a plane or streetcar. We devised a plan to be in the front car of the train and set out on foot to the port if we didn’t see a ship shuttle. Ready as ever as our train pulled in, we hit the platform running. Outside, we see a “Royal Carribean shuttle and asked if we could hitch. We couldn’t understand why they were laughing at us until we got on board and saw that only blue card holding Princess passengers were aboard. Our embarkation time long passed, we remained in hope as we could still see our ship in port. We did however have a game plan devised if we missed. We would head back to Rome, spend the night and head to Florence the next day in order to meet the ship at Livorno the following evening. This however proved not necessary as the beautiful white ship came into view. Shouts of joy and laughter as we approached and saw our wonderful crew out on balconies with wildly exaggerated points of their watches. Knowing we were in the clear, we Royal Carribean stowaways erupted with thanks and applause for the crew of the competitor company ensuring our safe arrival back to our home at sea.

Incidentally, we were numbers 24, 23, 22, & 21 back on board. Our numbers were getting worse.

Istanbul, not Constantinople

2007-06-14T21:18:00.000-07:00

Seeming similar to San Francisco, arriving in Istanbul was familiar. Unique architecture meshed with nature create a skyline so picturesque you can watch for hours. Our ship docked across the river from old Istanbul, so we were lucky enough to take in broad sweeping views as we walked the pedestrian bridge toward the city. The lofty spires of Istanbul’s many mosques were enough to keep our eyes full of anticipation. Studying the map, we headed straight to Hagia Sophia. Having studied the building in architorture school, I approached the mosque somewhat academically, studying the plan, section and vaulting. However, it was its character that blew me away. Completely taken in, I was reminded of the first time I visited St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome as a teen. I remember the dome overwhelming me and the wondrousness of building such a vast structure. Experiencing that again, I was floored by the span of the dome. (even whilst scaffolding somewhat blocked my view). The fact that this structure was built in 500 A.D. is astounding. I laugh even now at how architecture tends to level me. What will happen when I finally get to the Giza Plateau and ponder the pyramids?

I believe a striking quality of this now national museum, was the light. Light is a ubiquitous friend. It is what determines translation to film, distinguishes color in painting and brings life to what we build. Without light…photography, art, architecture is flat. It is light that brings this building to life. Every window draws part of the day into the domes and arcades of Hagia Sophia. I tend to visit massive structures in various times throughout a day since they often change as the day and light progresses. This one would be a candidate for that, yet we had to move on as time was precious.

Leaving the Hagia Sophia Museum, we ventured across the park to The Blue Mosque. Being an active worshiping mosque, we visitors were obliged to enter with a reverence and respect traditional of the Islamic faith. We were given clothing to cover our entire bodies, and although not required for Non-Muslims, many women covered their heads. As we entered, the lights suspended from the sculptural iron chandelier called the texture of the tiles to a dance . Cascading shades of blue created a peaceful calm and highlighted each individual dome originally experienced from the outside. I’ve heard many comments on each of these two structures and how one liked each for whatever personal preference. Honestly, I couldn’t decide which space I liked more. They were both so unique in personality and feel; Hagia Sophia with its grandiose space and majestic height, and the blue mosque with its serene calm and ethereal light. I can’t wait to return to Istanbul and spend a little more time in both spaces. But the clock ticks as we traverse Istanbul and the Grand Bazzar was calling our name.

A market or bazaar is such an emblematic representation of a place and its culture. In fact, the markets are the places I tend to enjoy most. No surprise there! Beneath the sales and commercialism often beats the heart of a very specific set of ideals and passions. The markets in Thailand and Cambodia often showcase the silk industry and all it has brought to those economies. Krakow, Warsaw and much of Polish “cloth halls” represent the indigenous amber found sprinkled all over the shores of the Baltic Sea. Parisian flea markets often reflect the toiles and rich damasks of 17th century France. Istanbul, I found, was all about carpets and diamonds. While I’m a huge fan of the beautiful Kilims, hand woven wools, and Persian masterpieces, diamonds could make me run into a flaming building. The Grand Bazzars main “grande” nave was shop after shop of both new and antique jewelry. The child in a candy shop came alive and I sought out supervision in my mother. She, however, proved to be an equal accomplice as she encouraged me to purchase a beautiful rose gold brown diamond ring. I fell in love with this unusual Byzantine styled piece and decided to allow the little girl a toy. Worn by an Armenian woman in the 20’s, I found the piece to combine the period's deco style of the west with the Moorish motifs of the east. A perfect blend in my little ring found in the gateway city of Istanbul. I absolutely love it.

Scrambling around, taking in the Grand Bazzar, mother having a necklace/bracelet set made, I tore through a pashmina shop grabbing every color I thought anyone would ever want to wear. I found several colors I knew some girlfriends would like, and of course, some completely unnecessary ones for myself. Catching sight of the time, my heart jumped as I realized we had 30 minutes to get back to the ship. Our friends Heather and Idona, the wise and safe travelers that they are, had long since left us and head back in peace. Carole and Jessica, however, usually used up every last minute and ended up with mild infarctions as we scrambled back to the boat in panic. Seeing the time, I knew this would be one of those days. Running down the main nave of the bazaar, I tried to raise mom on the walkie – “we have to go, we have to go!!” I finally got her, waiting for her jewelry still unfinished. Panic continued to rise in as we waited for the jeweler to return. Our boat departure loomed...thirty minutes became 25, ticking to 20, on to 15. Visions of the stern of the huge Emerald Princess sailing away started to flash before my mind. Finally returning, the jeweler sent his apprentice to put us on the nearest streetcar in hopes to expedite our trip back over the river. Having no idea where we were or were going, we had nothing to do but blindly trust, and hope he actually knew where our ship had port. Befriending most of the surrounding Turkish commuters on the train, they confirmed our direction and assured us not to worry. Seeing our ship loom closer, we consider ourselves just about home free when I imagine I hear a ship’s horn. The doors of the streetcar barely had a chance to open as we lofted ourselves out at the pavement for a flat run toward the boat. I see it in the distance, one gangway still out, men in white still at their posts. I suppress the need to scream out “Wait!!” and continued my dead run. As we hit the gangway, we were met with a bit of concern from the staff regarding our lateness. Curiously, I asked how many more were behind us, finding out we were no 121 & 120 (meaning 119 people were still behind us). I felt relieved I wasn’t the last aboard. However, 121 out of 3000 passengers was not something brag about. I figure this is often my way when I’m enjoying exploring. Down to the wire, absorbing everything I can, I’ve never been one to play it safe.

So take me back to Constantinople... it can't be too soon. I've always wanted to explore this amazing gateway city. There wasn't near enough time, but I plan to be back.

Ephesus

2007-06-13T20:50:00.000-07:00

Ephesus tipped me over the edge. As we approached the main walk into Ephesus, I cought a glimpse of the Library at Celcus, built in 102 a.d. Awaiting the end of the main street, it provided a vista worth the anticipation. I found it hard to concentrate on the parceled out structures of Main Street Ephesus because I kept catching the structure several hundred yards down. Ephesus actually has 7 versions of itself as it was always evolving and morphing through its ages. This particular main street had a wonderful little tiled area preserved over the last two millennia. Our guide told us it was an area where men and women of Ephesus would come to gather, have a drink, sit outside to enjoy the sun and conversation... basically the Union street of the first century. Our sidewalk cafes of today are not much different. However, I don’t expect ours to hold up 2000 years.

Proceeding finally to the Library, taking every shot possible, I found it hard to capture the draw of the structure on film. There is no way to express it in a photograph. Its age is what beautifies it; the texture and detail that leave nothing bare or simple, the symmetry and proportion that draw you closer, the staggered façade that breathes life into the rooms inside. I loved the unique yellow color contrasting the hillside, yet beautifully resting in its context like it belonged nowhere else. This will go toward the top of my list in structures that drew me in and inspired me to explore more.

I lost my traveling companions in the midst of my library awe and worked to catch up. They were fast on their feet to the Amphitheater. I can understand eagerly wanting to walk in Paul’s footsteps and stand at the dias of his Ephesian address. Breaking the library charms over me, I ventured further on to the enormous amphitheater. Climbing and descending, I explored every square inch for which I had time. Sweeping views told of how magnificent and exciting a theater like this would have been like at its height. I can imagine what it must have been like for Paul to walk the streets and preach to a culture like the Ephesians. As I ventured through the town and read about the daily life and customs of its inhabitants, it reminded me in many ways of the life of my own town of San Francisco. Sidewalk cafes to take in the sun, bookshops to pass time, and open plazas to mingle, all contributed to Ephesus as a forward thinking and progressive city.

Upon leaving Ephesus, we were able to go to a little house up in the hills that most people of Catholic faith regard as Mary’s last home. Many Protestants have adopted this claim as well. She was known to have gone to Ephesus with John and live out her last days there. We actually got to experience mass there at her home. I myself am considered a reformed protestant, yet I felt the gravity of this place so many Catholics revere as Holy Ground. A pilgrimage to many, I observed the reverence and love the people there held for the Holy Mother and her significance to their faith. Not being taught much about Mary in my own faith, it was quite a learning experience to me and one I’ll remember.

We had to return for our long sail to Istanbul, but not without a quick stop at the market at Kusadasi. Knowing I can whip through a market in record time, I hit the ground running in search of nothing but that which would fancy my eye. Down to the last minute, I heard my friend on the walkie say she was heading back to the ship, whilst I caught sight of a beautiful pair of antique earrings. Since I need more jewelry, of course I stopped dead in my tracks… and the mistake of trying them on is what sealed the deal. They are a lovely little pair of Byzantine costume earrings that are probably as “antique” as my last laptop, yet I love them all the same.

Ephesus and the surrounding sights of Mary’s home, the remains of the vast Temple of Artemis, the unbelievable library, will no doubt be one of my favorite ports on this trip. I have always been drawn to Turkey and have never actually been before now. I await the excitement of Istanbul and what wonderful sights I might find there.

Athens

2007-06-12T21:27:00.000-07:00

The Acropolis…. Time travel. If it weren’t for the June crowds of Europe, I would have stepped into a history completely foreign to the youth of American citizenship. Additionally, we 21^st century technology addicts often don’t know what to do with this kind of antiquity. Too surreal and ethereal, we remain unfocused on the immensity of such a sight. I had to concentrate on reminding myself that I was traversing grounds and structures ventured upon hundreds of years before Christ ever walked the earth. For a split second, one finds themselves in Disneyland. The sight before me was just too unreal. My brain shifts to the shiny sets of Epcot and the replica backdrops of Main Street USA. I’m proud of my American lineage and our young history as a country, yet I’m humbled each time I visit something that causes me to ponder TIME. I think of the new thoughts and concepts pondered at this place, that of law and ethics, of religion and philosophy, of medicine and science. I can imagine the conversations that took place here. In these settings, I long for time travel, to see this place alive and thriving during its prime… To see this architecture in its highest function…that of inspiration.

As Athens resided below, I wandered the hilltop, catching aerial views of the Amphitheater of Delphi, 360 degree walks of the Parthenon , the picturesque photo opportunities from the Temple of Nike, and endless shots of the columns of the Erechtheum. I imagined the structures in their finery of the 4^th and 5^th centuries B.C., perfect and unblemished by weather and wear. If it weren’t for the 110 degree heat, I would have stayed all day. That, and having to reboard a ship at 6.00. We ventured down from the Acropolis and wandered into the “Plaka,” a section of the city, referred to as old Athens. Having worn ourselves out from the both the hill and the heat, we sought shelter in Greek cuisine. Of course, a city would never be complete in Jessica’s world without a quick visit to the local market. And a quick visit it was. I fell in love with the beautiful Greek Orthodox gold crosses. They were inlaid with gemstones and perfectly etched designs and enscriptions. Inspired by the many shapes and sizes, I spent more time in my sketchbook than checking out Athens itself on the train ride back to port.

It was one of the most fast paced days I’ve experienced of late, but worth every minute. I didn’t know if I would ever make it to Athens, although always at the top of a long list of destinations. I saw it in a blur as do most people when they experience it as a port destination, yet I feel very blessed to have finally made it. The architect in me is inspired and enriched in such settings, The facet of my artistic drive that is inspired by great architecture is touched and re-kindled, thus, re-affirming my love to experience a historical place like this once and a while. Luckily for me, “once and a while,” is fairly often.

The Underbelly of Suvarnabhumi Airport and Further Afield

2007-01-31T14:21:00.000-08:00

9:45 a.m.

Think of everything you can conjure in your mind about being taken to the dungeon of the Thai Immigration Offices. I first must flashback to the incident that brought us to said underbelly of the Bangkok Airport. Arriving from Phnom Penh, Cambodia, waiting in the immigration line, my friend Heather realized she did not have her passport. Amazed at herself, she told me she was heading back to the gate to reboard the plane and get it. She was certain she left it there and started to head that way. I was encouraged by her confidence, and knowing we had to board a flight to Borneo in two hours, I suggested a meeting point for us at the baggage carousel. I proceeded past the check point entering Thailand and spent about 45 minutes arranging, rearranging and consolidating luggage for storage, waiting and waiting for Heather to arrive. Except...no Heather.

10:30 a.m.
Heading back to immigration, I got the heavy feeling I know all to well regarding dealing with “Thai” ways and the Asian need for 8 people to make one tiny little decision. Having visions of this happening to Heather at the gate (she having no previous Asia experience), panic started to set in as our flight time to Borneo began to tick away on the digital clocks above. Miraculously, (upon surrender of my own passport), the immigration supervisor allowed me back airside to go find her. Running through the airport in dread, I knew we were heading in to a long day. She wasn’t at the gate and wasn’t at the immigration point. I asked them to check the immigration manifest to see if she had entered the country which must have been a tall order, because it took 5 people at the immigration desk to decide if that was a feasible request to bring before the director.

11:00 a.m.
I gave up that ridiculousness and remembered that she had her cell phone on global roam. She answered with alarm in her voice, and we were able to coordinate and re-meet at a numbered immigration kiosk, me “officially” allowed into the Kingdom on the Thailand, and she, stuck in transit with no official documentation. Apparently, the airline officials wouldn’t allow her back on the plane to check it out. Heather is very kind and on the timid side in conflict so its understandable that she would back down. I, on the other hand, would have been relentless in my pursuit and probably would have ended up in the holding facility for people to which they refuse entry. . . like Viktor Novorsky.

Immigration granted me “un-entry” and allowed me BACK airside to accompany Heather in her quest for asylum. After much understandable confusion as rejects, we aimlessly wandered around waiting for Air Asia staff, in whose custody we were left. “Belonging” to Air Asia (a daunting outlook), we were understandably concerned, especially given Heather’s treatment regarding re-boarding. Visions of sleeping across uncomfortable armchair airport chairs and eating packets of ketchup were flashing before my eyes. Just as I was starting to panic, a well dressed, polo wearing, khaki’d, blond man approached us. He said he was the director of Air Asia Security and would be taking us from here. We urged him to try and locate the passport via radio and try to connect with the staff that manned the plane and its turn around. No one had seen the passport. Heather was very frustrated because she knew the passport was onboard the flight (now in transit to Vietnam).

11;15 a.m.
Continuing to make our way to the deep recesses of the underbelly, the security director escorting us through tunnel after tunnel, turn after turn, I startlingly realized, “Hey, he’s an American? What in the world? – it just so happens, he is married to a Thai woman and decided to come out of early retirement to help Air Asia with their security. I realized how lucky we were, because this could go much worse had we not had an advocate bearing our common citizenship. He escorted us into a room where people rushed about, shuffling papers, maintaining a constant state of readiness, doing their best to appease the “Don.” The Director of Immigration was everything you can possibly imagine about what you would find in such a place. The “Thai Don of Immigration” (as he will officially be remembered in my memories) sat behind a rather large desk, like a fat little Buddha with his subjects scurrying about hoping to appease him. I noticed, no one looked him directly in the eye, and as such, I followed suit. He only spoke Thai to the various Air Asia staff and didn’t acknowledge our presence. After he drafted a temporary Letter of Excusement for a direct trip to the U.S. Embassy, he sharply turned to me and asked, “What hotel in Bangkok you stay?” I sort of looked down and timidly said that we didn’t have a hotel because we were transit passengers to Kota Kinabalu. Again, he said, “What hotel in Bangkok YOU STAY !!.” I replied, “SIR, I don’t have a hotel.” And once again with fervor, “LADY, I ASK YOU, WHAT HOTEL IN BANGKOK YOU STAY !!!.” The American looked over at me pleadingly as if to telepathically suggest. “Say SOMETHING, just make something up!” I mentioned my usual hotel in the Sukhumvit district which seemed to appease the Don. Funny how far lies go. . . but if I’ve learned anything about Asia, its that you HAVE to FILL out the piece of PAPER. Everything in Asia has to have the piece of PAPER !!!

After another hour of paperwork and an official handoff, we were escorted to the Air Asia ticket counter to try and rebook our Kota Kinabalu ticket. We had already been in contact with the embassy which told us to come right away and they would issue a temporary passport which would grant Heather access to Malaysia without a visa. (the Sabah region of Borneo) This was the first good news we heard all day, But good news is usually short lived in immigration circles because we realized, it was the only flight that week (aside from a short Friday to Tuesday jaunt which would not be enough time in Borneo). We tabled that challenge and decided to head directly to the embassy to fight the battle there.

2:00 p.m.
Heading to the embassy was a feat unto itself. Apparently, the taxi’s do not know where the embassies are. Wireless Road is a bit too English sounding and not enough Thai to warrant paying attention to. Roundly about, we finally made it and I let Heather out to do her thing and I headed to the Manhattan Hotel to do my best to persuade them to give us a room, having already told us they were fully booked. Halfway down the street, stopped in traffic, I was startled by a running Heather opening the door and jumping BACK into the taxi. “CLOSED!!” the embassy is closed at 2:00 !! “WHAT”, I said, “They TOLD us to come.” Picking up my cell phone, calling the embassy, I got an operator and explained the situation. She put me on hold and got back on the line explaining that Heather should NOT have been refused and every American, no matter what time of day is legally granted asylum on the American soil of the embassy and that we should return. She said, she would call down to the guard and demand them to let Heather in. Turning back around, we dropped her off. At this point, we were in the 3:00 heat of the monster that is Bangkok traffic and the taxi driver cursed me heavily as I continued to change my mind about where I was going and how long it was taking. Not TWO seconds later, I received a phone call from Air Asia PROUDLY telling me that they had found the passport. Knowing what I know about Asia, I asked them to tell me the name on the passport and place of issue .. “Marie Burrow. California.” – (Marie being Heather’s middle name), . . .good enough for me.

3:10 p.m.
I called Heather and she found out about the same time from the American staffer at the passport window. “Good news Miss Burrow, Air Asia has recovered your passport from a flight that went to Hanoi and has returned to Bangkok.” I didn’t see the look on Heather’s face, but I’m sure it was the visual version of “duh.”. But, I’m pretty sure that was shortlived as the tears of relief started to fall.

I timidly told the taxi driver we were going to have to go BACK to the embassy to get Heather and he started yelling at me and pointing to the clock on his dashboard yelling at me in Thai and saying “TrAAFFic, TrAAFFic.” NO NO NO. I was afraid he was going to throw me out on Sukhumvit Road with all our luggage, so I just had Heather meet me at the Manhattan.

3:30 p.m.
Upon arrival, I prepared luggage once again for storage and started gearing up for heading back out of Bangkok, now that we were free (aside from a quick return trip we would have to make to the Don’s Laire for the official passport stamp). As I was packing in the lobby of the Manhattan hotel, I looked over to see the T.V. and to my total disbelief saw the scene in “The Terminal” where Viktor Novorsky (our comrade and kindred spirit) was translating for the goat farmer. I stared in amazement at the t.v. having already thought of Viktor Novorsky that day and remarked my usual. . . “I have no words” mantra. It was as if everything in the universe had come together to make fun of me. At this point, I was waiting for the man behind the curtain. All I could do was laugh and relive the laughter when heather walked in the front door of the hotel and I silently gestured to the t.v. We both just cracked up at the irony.

4:00 p.m.
Exhausted and spent, we headed back to the airport, bags packed for who knows where. We just figured, if we worked something out with Air Asia, we would just get on a plane for somewhere in their network of destinations. Heather returned to the Laire as I fought with Air Asia about rebooking and fees and penalties. I urged them to reconsider their penalties assessed to our tickets considering their staff was, to a great degree, also at fault due the negligence in recovering an American Passport (an extremely valuable commodity in the world). In fact, I mentioned that the Embassy had told us they were disappointed with how poorly the airlines had been handling such communications and that such holes in security were alarming for them and their views on the airline and the policies at the new airport (which apparently is a total mess). Well, apparently, this was enough of a threat to buy me a visit with the Air Asia supervisor who refunded all my penalties, allowed me to rebook a departing flight for Phuket and granted me a credit for the remainder of the original ticket price to use at my leisure. My Asia experience has finally paid off! - I must give myself some kudos for that one. Getting around policy in Asia is like squeezing guava juice from a mango.

5:00 p.m.
Still awaiting “official” arrival of Miss Heather Marie Burrow into the Kingdom of Thailand, I call her and she tells me she’s still in the Laire. I tell her, she better hurry up because she was on a 6:30 flight to Phuket and they needed to get going on her entry status. She finally made it and we checked in.

6:00 p.m.
Heading to board the 6:30 flight to Phuket. I’m assuming at this point, we will just head over to Koh Phi Phi in the next day or two I’d been in this area several times and was familiar enough with southern Thailand to plan a spur of the moment trip. Worn out, spent, in a bit of a fog having exhausted all energy on the day, we hoped our evening would look up. This, unfortunately was not in the cards.

9:30 p.m.
Having no idea we would be going to Phuket, we had no hotel booked or reservations whatsoever, which usually isn’t the end of the world since the lovely little kiosks at the airports are ready and willing to rip you off as soon as you set foot off the plane. After some scrutiny, we booked a room for two nights in Karon Beach, went outside for our taxi and headed out.

10:30 p.m.
Checking in, we were a little alarmed by the noise first, the smell second and the sheer concern for hygiene third. We agreed on the second room we saw and tried to settle in. It was needless to say, NOT a four, or three, or two star hotel. I won’t even go into it in DETAIL, but I will say this, they had the beds made “Euro-stye” which means there were no sheets on the bed. I called down for sheets knowing my body did not want immediate contact with that situation they claimed was a “bedspread,” and having no English speaking individuals at the entire hotel, I went downstairs to try to gesture our needs as best I could. They said that housekeeping was gone and we could not have sheets and that we would get some tomorrow. I’m very familiar with the runaround I get a lot over there, so I was firm and said I wanted sheets for our beds. He said no, and I asked to see another room. After 10 more minutes of negotiation, I was shown another room, where I proceeded to take the sheets off the beds and silently carry them to my room. I didn’t even flinch. I had had my fill. The Asian run around had NO more power over me. I had hit the wall.

9:00 a.m. (next day)
Attempting to check out of this “hotel” (which is a term I use quite loosely in this cat infested, unvaccumed floored shack of a building). We were told rather rudely that we pre-paid two nights and would not be allowed to check out. The rest of the story continues for the better part of the morning, into the afternoon, so I won’t go into it, but let me just say, it involves a trip to the Karon Beach Police Station. Needless to say, I eventually got my money back for one night as we checked out. The police were absolutely useless aside from the fact that they actually wore a uniform and carried a gun. AND, It wasn’t a TOTAL lie that got me out of another night in the meow motel, I DO actually know people at Lonely Planet !!!!

As I hopped on my rented motorbike and did my absolute best to stay on the right (wrong) side of the road, I thought to myself, well, it certainly could have been worse. I’ve had 24 hours of more challenge than I would have asked, but it without a doubt has provided some good memories. Heather and I are still laughing at that 24 hours. If only we had a cameraman following us. “What NOT to do in Southeast Asia.”

Exploring Phuket by moto was quite fun. I’ve never explored this part of Thailand this way and we thoroughly enjoyed it. We hit an orchid farm which grew the most beautiful orchids I’ve ever seen. We saw an abalone restaurant on the map and decided to venture out that direction which proved to be quite fun. I think most of the fun itself was just trying to stay on the right side of the road while trying to navigate the heavy traffic and cliffs on our left side. It was so much fun !! My parents would probably say otherwise ! My dad was at least pleased with my choice of helmet. I felt like an old man with a bowl haircut. One of my most memorable and fun days in the tropics.

So Koh Phi Phi ended up being fine. I missed the idea of Borneo for the first day, but I tried to soak in the idea of just lounging for a week. That took about 2 hours to take and I soon became a rather lazy individual. A typical day consisted of sleeping in, eating breakfast, reading and laying by the pool, hitting Ton Sai village during the heat of the day – where I would usually sit on the deck of D’s Books and email. We did some kayaking and I did a little climbing. Thai massage was usually factored in by the afternoon. Dinner, more reading and bedtime. Aaaah, vacation – sun, activity and lounging.

Phnom Penh, Mary Knoll and Kong

2007-01-28T21:09:00.000-08:00

As always, I’m home here in Phnom Penh. Its so familiar to me now. I have my spots and my hangouts. I have my people I see – even the people who run the little internet café next to the Cozyna Hotel. Its so neat to walk in after a few months and get to see people who are excited to see you back in their town. I got to see my babies. As soon as we drove up on the motos and walked in the gate, they all RAN over. I think they were more excited about the huge bag of stuff I was bringing them than actually seeing ME. Amidst the squeals of delight, I was so happy to see them. How much they grow in such a short time. We had so much fun with the beach balls and playing with the various toys. I always want to bring them home to California, but in the same thought, I know the contented hearts and simple peace of the Cambodian people and can’t help but think, in many ways, their native home is better. Life is very real here. There continues to be no time for petty things. Even Bangkok has acquired the ways of the modern first world. Coke advertisements dot the concrete landscape and skin brightening billboards nudge Thai women toward the west’s version of beauty…light skin. Funny that westerners all love to be tan. Not unlike the idea that the more food we have, the skinnier we strive to be. Not so in the third world of

Cambodia

. While there are travesties and depravity everywhere, there is one thing they haven’t lost….reality.

I think that is the thing that rings the truest with me when I’m in the third world. It is so real. The scarcity is universal, but widespread is the thankful spirit of a people oppressed. People often ask me to describe Cambodia. Its very difficult to capture the emotion of a place. I can show pictures and tell stores, but for Cambodia, its about the people. Its about their smiles in the face of starvation, their perserverance in the face of adversity, their generosity in the face of poverty, and their hope in the place of devastation. I continue to be amazed by the stories I hear of the rise of the current generation who lost every parent to a great evil. They raised themselves. They taught themselves to hope. They faced a dead country with courage and conviction. They fight adversity everyday for education and a better way. I admire them. They reside in my heart with great fondness and respect. I'm thankful that I've been given the privilege of another perspective on the world. I wish every one of us, in the United States knew just how easy we had it. I dare wonder what we could accomplish in our country with our resources and the kind of dedication and determination of these many men and women.

Project Art for Hope

2007-01-26T17:52:00.000-08:00

In the course of working here in Phnom Penh, I’ve come to know many of the local travesties that continue to pervade this tormented nation.

Cambodia

has seen many evils and while one expects the veil to lift, it doesn’t always work out as we would hope in our timeline. Peace reigns here amidst the blatant corruption, however, each citizen lives in the shroud of oppression that corruption breeds. Just yesterday, my friend Mekong was taking his moto to get my friend Heather flying in from Angkor Wat and he was stopped by the police for no apparent reason. The police were just having a day of provocation. They demanded he produce his registration but Mekong didn’t have it with him. At this point, they should have just written him a legitimate ticket, but decided to taunt him instead. The policeman who stopped him insisted that Mekong pay him $5 US in order to let him go. Five dollars is more than a two day’s wages here in Phnom Penh and goes a long way in this economy. Mekong told me about this later in the day. I was furious. I wanted to go back and tell off that corrupt, selfish “law abiding” policeman. Unashamedly taking hard earned money from a kid who earns an average of 80 dollars a month is absolutely infuriating to me. I told Mekong is was probably a good thing I wasn’t with him because I probably would have had to call one of you guys to come rescue me out of some shady Cambodian prison.

I’m told these incidents happen all the time, yet when I see or hear of them, I’m angered nonetheless. I can’t seem to accept it as reality. My dad would call my need for justice the thorn in my side. I suppose so, but I believe, a blind eye would require more of me. So much of that is an understanding of the reality of evil in the world. I still hold the expectation that good will always triumph that justice will always prevail. For now, I’m still surprised by what I see.

I think this leads me to the greatest evil I’ve seen so far. The total exploitation of children isn’t new, but sadly, it has been growing steadily in the last few decades. In previous entries, I’ve mentioned of working here in Phnom Penh with an organization that is triumphing for the cause in the rescue of young girls from the trafficking industry. In the past few visits, I’ve developed a little non-profit called “Project Art for Hope.” This has been something that has completely found me and I’ve just tried to follow its lead. I was working with some of the young girls last year, teaching them jewelry skills, and watercolor techniques and various creative outlets. I noticed walking around the room, looking at the art, the imagination just coming alive! I thought to myself, “wow, these girls have seen evils I’ve never seen and hope to never see, yet they still draw butterflies and flowers.” I was amazed by the sheer innocence that the brush put to paper. I slowly saw a story begin to unfold. Not only is art so therapeutic in a reclamation of one’s self and beauty, it is a face to the many faceless girls and a tiny voice to the powerlessness they all feel. I felt as if every piece of art was a memoir of each of these young innocents. They have a name, a story, a passion and a dream. They have rich hearts and much to give the world. I knew I had to somehow be a conduit for those many voices. That is how “Project Art for Hope” was born.

I am still in the beginning stages, learning the logistics and how best to provide an avenue for this art to be seen. My intention is to do installations in galleries in the United States and Europe and use the presentation as a means to tell the bigger story that many people still prefer to wish didn’t exist. There are wonderful organizations who are tirelessly working on continuing to spread the word. IJM (www.ijm.org). World Hope International. www.worldhope.net. I hope that the art from this venture can begin to raise not only funds, but heighten awareness as much as humanly possible. The rest is up to “supernatural intervention,” as the director here in Phnom Penh so truthfully stated.

I have grown in my understanding of what it means to make a difference. My contribution is a small wave, but nonetheless a wave. I believe that one little step is still a step forward. If my small voice touches a heart, we have four feet now walking forward. Where are we called to be, but to walk forward in the faith that God will bring change on this earth, . . . today.

Bali

2006-08-15T22:03:00.000-07:00

Bali, “positively dreamy,” as my friend Glen once put it. I remember those words from him long before I had ever set foot in this paradise. Now I know what he means. Dreamy . . .a connotation of the far-away, reflective, pensive and distant. Bali IS what it is - not only due to it’s immense beauty, but also because of its inhabitants. The Balinese define “island-time.” It is what Bali is about. Even the crackberry addicted ipod toting techie cannot help but be taken over by the persona of this little jewel of the South Pacific. They are a people like none other, hardworking and intentional, quiet and peaceful, giving and honorable. I found myself tempted to call it quits, buy a villa in Ubud, become a mango farmer and live out “dreamy” faster than I could give away my laptop.

The cuisine is all that you would expect . . fusions of Thai, Indian & Malay, appealing to even the toughest of critics. The diving is truly unparalleled, crystal blue water and densely populated marine life. The land is picturesque as any other, from the terraced rice fields, to the palm laden beachfronts and the traditional architecture. These influences on the mind of the visitor all contribute to how every guest feels about setting foot in this island paradise.

Eight days were certainly not enough, but urban life calls the city girl home. Taking home bits of Bali was absolutely crucial to me and even now, when I catch a glimpse of the dancing faces of my wooden masks, my bowl of black volcanic beach rocks, my sculpted silver butterflies or even the amazing art and jewelry I brought home with me, I take a little “dreamy” vacation in my mind and remember the fondness for the far-away, the reflective, the pensive, the distant home I have in that little nation that all crackberries should see as a pilgrimage.

Bai Pai Thai Cooking

2006-08-13T20:02:00.000-07:00

Oh Thai Food ! I've come home. I think my mother must have eaten Thai food during most of her pregnancy. This is the only explanation since I look nothing like a Thai. Since I'm ordering it much of the time at home in San Francisco, I figured I would give Thai cooking school a whirl. Its quite a feat to learn about all the spices and roots used in Thai cuisine. Our teacher was a wonderful, adorable Thai woman with the sweetest voice and demeanor. I have to say, galangal is my favorite. It is used in my favorite Thai dish - Tom Ka Kai - which is a spicy chicken soup with a coconut milk base and an aroma that encompasses all that is so irresistable about Thai spice. I learned to make it (along with various other dishes) during my time at Bai Pai. We actually made our own fresh coconut milk from whole coconuts...no cans allowed in Thailand!! Only the freshest of ingredients are "suitable" for the art and magic of Thai cuisine. It is an art that is taken seriously not only in taste, but in presentation. It is considered finery from the raw ingredients to the table and the Thai's never fail to deliver the best to all 5 senses !

The Floating Market

2006-08-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

Fruit fruit and fruit galore. Imagine, rowing along a narrow canal, seeing a fully equipped longtail boat spit roaster, a canoe filled array of colorful orchids, a full boat load of 5 pound mangos. . . A little bit of heaven for me of course. What was once a true form of conventional Thai market, the floating market has morphed into a modern "working" market for the tourists. While tourism is a lovely benefit for the wonderful Thai people, it has taken over as a personality in many of the time-honored rituals of

Siam

. Traditionally, floating markets were easy ways to get products from the remote villages to a denser concentration of buyers up-river. The results of fruit filled boats floating up the river was a panorama of color and texture, bartering and selling, all the typical noises in a crazy market with an added twist of beauty. Years ago, as tourism started to flourish in this exotic country, the scenes of the water borne trading was just the sight an adventurous traveler strove to find. Today, a working market all the same, much of the trading is strictly done for the benefit of the onlooker, both in sight and hopefully in currency. The purity of the market remains, but the scene is packed with foreigners and cameras capturing a bit of the past in every photograph. I’ll never forget my canal trip down into the market. Excitement at every turn, and pure elation as I saw the mango boat approach. TWENTY BAHT yelled the mango lady as I had to decide between the grabbing the wallet or snapping the picture - considering I needed to hold on in the rocking boat. our “Row-master” was kind enough to pull aside and temporarily dock with the mango boat so she could cut me a fresh one to accompany my sticky rice. Twenty baht (50 cents) well spent.

Hong Kong

2006-04-25T08:43:00.002-07:00

Ah, the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong. SUCH a fabulous city as it soars high in the sky...the architecture having a complete personality of its own. Victoria and I ventured out to the Kowloon side of Hong Kong to the Jade Market to do a little shopping and also to accomplish some business-oriented tasks. I seem to find something jewelry-oriented to do wherever I go. In the picture below, I am sorting through beads for a woman who is stringing some bracelets for me. All the heavy challenges of picking through pearls and gemstones worked up our appetite so we headed to a traditional Chinese lunch of "Dim-Sum." As we sat down, I had a sudden revelation. I realized that about 15 years ago, it was with Victoria's father, Fred that I had my first Dim-Sum experience. He took our college group to a restaurant in Manhattan's Chinatown for Dim-Sum lunch. And now, I'm here in Hong Kong with Victoria enjoying her first foray into the craziness that IS typical chinese Dim-Sum. My dad said there was a wonderful sense of symmetry about that. Indeed.

We continued to explore the Kowloon side a bit and soon headed back to Hong Kong Island or "Central" as the locals call it. One of the beauties of Hong Kong is the MTR train system. It is a fast, efficient way to move in between the two sides of Hong Kong and to get around both the Kowloon and Central sides. I have only stayed on the island side and seem to gravitate to that side, it being the business center and foundation for some of the best architecture I've seen. One of the easiest MTR stops for me is the IFC. (the International Finance Center). It is a central point for business people as well as locals who just like good shopping. Less busy than hectic Causeway Bay, I tend to gravitate to IFC. There is a great little movie theater, a "City Super" (the most amazing grocery store in the world) as well as a Valentino store (my mother ship).

Victoria "indulged" me by letting me drag her through some of the amazing buildings that dot the skyline. One of my personal favorites is the Bank of China building. An I.M.Pei icon, the triangular plan springs from the foundation, rises in famed I.M. Pei style creating a myriad of lines and surfaces against the futuristic Hong Kong backdrop. We also hit the Norman Foster building - the main Hong Kong bank building, home of the famous bronze Hong Kong Lion. (which also graces the Hong Kong Twenty Dollar Note).

We continued to explore the city in our last few days in Hong Kong. Heading up "the Peak," we hoped to catch some beautiful views of the city. Sadly, the fog had set in (something we San Franciscan's are quite familiar with) so we couldn't get a full view of the beauty that is Hong Kong from that height. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our time, made the best of our trip atop the peak and continued to amuse ourselves and laugh whenever possible.

Macau

2006-04-24T02:52:00.000-07:00

We decided to take a flight out of Bangkok to Macau which is not far from Hong Kong by ferry (Hong Kong being our ultimate destination). Macau is a tiny once-Portugese colony which still retains some of its European flair. Its interesting how many churches exist here. Additionally, the old colonial style architecture is quite beautiful. The photo above is one of the famous churches in Macau...this one in particular, St. Pauls, now stands in ruins with only the facade intact.

Wandering down through the city from the high point of St. Pauls, we discovered more churches and cathedrals, as well as little spots of Chinese culture which continue to crop up over the decades and entertwine with the lovely European architecture. Victoria and I found this charming little traditional Chinese garden right in the middle of the bustling city. It was a great little enclave of quiet amidst the hustle and bustle of busy Macau.

We ended up at the Macau tower for dinner which is a restaurant not too different from Seattle's Space Needle. It rotates to offer 360 views of Macau which lights up quite colorfully at night. Victoria and I paced ourselves at the delectable buffet and limited our intake since we caught a glimpse of a huge chocolate fountain on the way in. I have to say, of all the amazing choices offered... scrumptuous Indian, live river prawns, a gourmet cheese bar, and even Singaporean cuisine, our favorite was a simple piece of pineapple run under the chocolate fountain. Just pure flavor. We were "serenaded" by a sweet little trio. As they continued around the perimiter of the restaurant taking requests, we took in our own little concert. My song request was "Let it Be" (one of my favorites) which I think they did a fairly good job on. Its a hard song!! I especially like the little guitar rift in the middle. Its fairly hard to get all the audio, but hopefully you can get a glimpse of how cute the little trio was.

Southern Thai Islands

2006-04-22T00:58:00.000-07:00

So of COURSE, Victoria and I had to head south to one of my favorite places ...Koh Phi Phi. She gets to hear me talk about it all the time so I figured I would let her see what all the fuss was about. We flew into Phuket and got up early and took a speed boat over to Koh Phi Phi. After stopping first at Maya Bay for some walking around in the "jungle," we headed around to the back of the island for some snorkeling. Koh Phi Phi is comprised of two islands...Koh Phi Phi Lei and Koh Phi Phi Don. (Don being the bigger one). Phi Phi Lei offered us some great snorkeling. Victoria was a natural. I didn't even really have to teach her anything. She was totally cool and very much at ease in the water and breathing. She was able to see a variety of marine life ...Parrotfish, Moorish Idols, various wrasses, Damselfish and even a triggerfish. (a little one). As we headed back to our boat, we noticed a boat named "J. Mansion" which made both of us think immediately of Victoria's brother John Mark whose awesome podcast is entitled "J.Mix." Victoria did her own little rendition of the podcast intro here on the video. For those of you who have heard John Mark's podcast intro, this will be hilarious. For the others who haven't, thank you for indulging us.

We headed on to Phi Phi Don with a little stop at Monkey Beach to see the monkeys. I was fairly suprised at how they weren't afraid to come aboard in hopes of a banana tossed their way. They are brave little creatures. Heading on to Phi Phi Don for lunch, we swiftly scarfed down a little meal since we were limited with our time in Tonsai Bay (the main little village of Phi Phi Don). I wanted Victoria to see the Tsunami damage so we ventured to the back side of Lo Do Lum Bay. The backside hasn't really improved much since my last visit a year ago. The main area of town however is looking good and a little better developed.

Venturing onward to Kai Island, we had another snorkeling opportunity and pressed on with excitement. Upon reaching the site, we saw a number of pink jellyfish and moved forward with a little more trepidation. Our boat captain told us that some grey tipped reef sharks were over congregating by the southern tip of the little atoll and I of course, dragged Victoria over that direction... TOTALLY against her will. As we headed over, she saw a large one of them and I saw what I believed to be a baby shark. Right around that time, we both came up out of the water and said to each other . . "I have this unbearable stinging..." - Victoria on the neck and me on my lips and face. We started to head back and the stinging increased. Our boat captain said we probably got stung by a jelly that was somewhere around us that we simply didn't see. It was really painful. Venturing ashore onto Kai Island, one of the local girls rubbed some weird leaves on both of us. It supposedly stops the stinging . . .it didn't. PLUS we turned a weird shade of green. So we were not only in pain, but also ugly. It really didn't go away until the next day. All in all, I guess it was a blessing. It may have been worse had we ventured into baby shark territory. Mama sharks can be mean ... even if they ARE docile reef sharks.

We did not want to leave island life, but reluctantly headed to the airport all to find our flight delayed by an hour. To pass the time, we watched "Elizabethtown" on my portable DVR and were at least consoled by the sight of Orlando Bloom. The plane finally showed up to get us about two hours late, putting us into Bangkok about 2 in the morning. We were pretty delirious by that point so anything and everything sent us into total hyterics. Sometimes total fatigue can end up being quite fun.

Ayuthaya

2006-04-17T10:32:00.000-07:00

Today, we headed to Ayuthaya which is an area of ruined temples dating from the 1300's. Somewhat similar to Angkor Wat and Sukothai, it was amazing to trek through ruins with such history. We really enjoyed exploring about and checking out the various Buddha statues and carvings. However, to say it was brutally hot would be kind. We couldn't drink enough fresh coconut water. (which naturally cools you down). I wish I had an endless supply. A camelback would be nice.

Elephants being a major element of Thai culture, they naturally would have them waiting to cart tourists around the various temple grounds. Victoria and I opted for doing it on foot so that we could crawl all over the ruins and explore, but we stopped off for a little fun in the middle of our day to play with the elephants. Feeding elephants is always fun and having done it in both Thailand and India, I knew she would enjoy it.

Our last temple of the day we both agreed was our favorite. It was the most picturesque and unique. We climed the main stairs into the little dark pinnacle tower and made an interesting discovery. As we walked inside the little temple up top, we heard a strange chirping sound. I was checking out the carvings when Victoria hestitantly told me to look up. There, hanging from the ceiling were about a hundred bats. Eeewww!! I did NOT know that bats chirp... but you learn something new every day. SO gross. This not being my first encounter with bats, I wasn't too freaked out. However, I didn't want to hang around or anything in there. I was really proud of Victoria. She thought it was pretty cool. Definitely NOT her mother's daughter in this case. ;-)

We headed back to Bangkok for some work things for me and ended up at the Oriental Hotel - one of the oldest hotels in Southeast Asia. Beautiful grounds and lush surroundings make it a fun place to explore. One of the cool things about hotels on the river are their own little "shuttle boat" services. We hopped on the Oriental shuttle and headed down the river for dessert - or a dessert buffet rather. (at the recommendation of our friend Catherine Kot). We had to cut ourselves off.

Finishing off the evening at Saum Lum Night Bazaar - night bazaars being another typical Thai event, we found ourselves utterly exhausted after such a long day and began dreaming of our beds as soon as our bodies entered the taxi. Ah, adventures !!

Victoria's first trip to Bangkok

2006-04-16T10:01:00.000-07:00

Victoria and I made it ! No trouble or major challenges. The funniest part of the journey over was Victoria's observation of the inflight emergency video and "What to do in a water landing." She looked over at me during the life vest demonstration wide-eyed and said, "THAT guy is SMILING!!! WHAT on earth does he have to be so happy about. I would NOT be so chipper if I actually had to USE that life vest." I got a good laugh out of that one.

Our first day out we headed to Chatuchak Market because as anyone who has been here knows ...Thailand is much about the markets. This is the largest indoor market in the country and has everything imaginable. I've already written about it in an entry so I won't go into more details. Against the advice of my mom who has been here before, I let Victoria venture into the pet area where she immediately cooed over the many adorable puppies for sale. I can hear my mother now scolding me in disappointment. . . "OH, the DISEASES!!" Please, they are JUST puppies!! How harmful can they be. ... and MOM, they DON'T have BIRD FLU!!!! We had alot of fun exploring and seeing all the fun stuff. We needed our own little movie montage as we tried on dozens of pairs of sunglasses. We especially enjoyed these particular pairs as they gave us a great laugh at ourselves. Our new motto about ultra-oversized sunglasses ..."Just Say No."

After soaking in as much Chatuchak as possible, we headed to the new Paragon Center in Siam Square and saw a movie. Movies here are a bit different from the U.S. in that one has assigned seating. We opted for the V.I.P. section . . because . . why not?? Upon arriving, I was freezing and jokingly said to the usher, "got a blanket?" (not really thinking he understood me) and after escorting us to our plush loveseat sofa for two in a prime spot in the theater, he returned with a large pouch and handed it to me. I unzipped it to find a lovely silk blanket that Victoria and I immediately curled up in. If only we could take a few cues from these Thais about hospitality. Needless to say, watching "Inside Man" in style would be an understatement.

India - Choki Dani

2006-01-26T22:46:00.000-08:00

Choki Dani is a traditional Rajasthani cultural village (and I use the word "traditional" a little loosely). The previous day I ran into my friend Laura at our guesthouse in Jaipur (she had attended the same textile show I was in Delhi). It was such an unexpected surprise to see her. She and her boyfriend Tom were heading to Choki Dani for dinner and asked me to join them. We arrived and decided to visit the various cultural exhibits before dinner. - magic shows, fire throwing, puppet shows, fortune telling, oh, and camel riding. I was at the jewelers shop (of course) when I heard a familiar laugh coming from the other side of the village (yes, she was THAT loud). Following the familiar noise of my friend, I found her atop a rather tall camel cracking up. She said it was one of the funniest things she had ever done, so I thought I would give it a go. Since she had so much fun the first time, she said she would go again. Listen very carefully in the second video for my scream as the camel came down to rest so we could get off. I'm still laughing about the experience.

All the camel escapades worked us into an appetite frenzy, so we headed into the tent for dinner. Laura, Tom and I all sat in wonderment as they served us the various traditional Rajasthani food. Having no idea what we were actually eating, we just smiled and prayed we would live. I forgot to bring a water bottle, so I had to drink the water they poured into my tiny terracotta cup. I took as tiny sips as possible thinking, "oh my gosh, what am I DOING, I'm not going to survive the Indian water!!" My mom has always said that alcohol kills tiny organisms so we got our driver to stop and get beer on the way home. There we were, huge bottles of beers in hand, in this beautiful white ambassador classic taxi, Laura and Tom arm in arm in the back. We felt like we were in the middle of a James Dean movie. It was quite a picture.

I did survive the meal, didn't get sick (miraculously) and savored the experience. It was so interesting to see the different ways that the Hindi people have preserved their culture and traditional arts. It was one of the highlights of my trip to India.

India - Jaipur

2006-01-23T16:56:00.000-08:00

Imagine trucks wildly passing each other, cars narrowly missing oncoming traffic, camel carts lining the shoulders, painted elephants crossing at intersections. . . Jaipur is a city where monkeys dot the landscape and cows are the usual suspects in daily traffic jams. I physically remember sitting in the back of an autorickshaw with my driver Dinesh wondering impatiently what could be the holdup. It turned out to be a cow in the middle of a round-a-bout oblivious to the ensuing chaos around him. Cows, sacred in the Hindi religion, and by extension, India, are allowed to freely roam the streets and markets. Its a bit unnerving at first, but completely normal after a few days. I even got used to monkeys skimming by my feet as I walked along the dusty roads.

Jaipur itself is hectic with its busy markets and crowded streets. People sell everything from colorful sarees to dishware to baby pigs. You never know what you are going to come up on as you round a corner. On our way to the ancient astronomical obeservatory site, we stumbled across some snake charmers. Seeing two cobras a couple of feet from my feet was indeed a sight I won't forget. I thouroghly enjoyed Jaipur, bedlam and all. We were lucky enough to visit in January which is wedding season in India. These ceremonies are quite the celebration. Huge elephants, decorated white horses, lights and lavishly dressed party-goers walk the street as part of the procession. The ritual itself was facinating, even after the 30th wedding we saw. It is clear that keeping the time-honored custom alive is paramount in this traditional culture. We felt lucky to see it again and again.

India - Amber Fort

2006-01-22T22:45:00.000-08:00

Amber fort, just about 10 kilometers from Jaipur, tops a hill overlooking Maotha lake. It was begun in 1592 by Raja Man Singh, who was an army commander of the reigning Emperor Akbar. It was completed by Sawai Jah Singh about two centuries later. Forts in India are the equivalent of castles in Europe. The architecture is a fusion of Mughal and Hindu architecture, typical of the many forts of this area. Amber, however is the crowning jewel of Jaipur.

We opted out of the elephant trek and braved the trail. The hike to the top of the fort was nice and easy, and a great walk after spending so much time in a car. On the path, we encountered a snake charmer who was having a little trouble getting his cobra to behave. I sat and watched as the snake uncoiled himself OUT of the basket, onto the pavement and toward my feet. I've never moved so fast in my life. The snake charmer blamed the snake's erratic behavior on the sun. I blame the snake's erratic behavior on the SNAKE !! Continuing our trek to the top, we decided not to hire a guide and try to explore the fort on our own. We probably missed some key things, but were lucky enough to come upon a guard who gave us a side tour and showed us some of the private bedrooms of the Maharajah and his 12 wives.

I found that one of the main things that struck me about the fort were the views. One things that architects strive to do is to frame spectacular views. I would say this is one of the crowning achievements of the builders of this fort. Everywhere I looked, I would see another breathtaking view through a window or doorway. The height, colors, surrounding landscape, and artistry all contribute to making the successful sight the Amber Fort continues to be throughout the centuries. The photographs really speak for themselves.

India - The Taj Mahal

2006-01-18T16:52:00.000-08:00

The Road to Agra. A story unto itself. I wonder how I made it from Delhi alive ! I can still hear the echoes of the beeping horns as I think about our journey to the famous Taj Mahal. Named for Mumtaj Mahal, beloved wife of Emperor Shah Jahan, this monument to her beauty began in 1631 and was completed three decades later. It is made entirely of white marble, inlaid with lapis, carnelian, malachite and various jaspers.

We arrived in Agra via taxi, stopped to get a local guide and transferred to electric vehicles for our last mile to the Taj. Agra has been declared a Unesco World Heritage Site - not to mention one of the Seven Wonders of the World, therefore gas emissions are nowhere near the white marbled walls of India's most famous sight. We were strictly instructed by our guide about prohibited items - no cell phones, radios, tripods, matches, a list of random items. I got rid of my cell phone and my big tripod, but I didn't really think the mini-tripod would be dangerous. Upon entering security and post-pat-down, I was told I would have to surrender my ipod, my mini-tripod and a carabeaner. Go figure!! I understand not allowing electronics (especially in volatile parts of the world in precious national monument areas), but a carabeaner?? I still don't get that one. I checked my items and we made it on our way. Our anticipation built as we approached the procession to the main gate and saw the palace for the first time. It was so beautiful as it just appeared into view. We continued down the main axis, snapping shot after shot, walked around the west side and ended up inside the main tomb. After shooting about 50 pics, our guide told us this was the most photogenic building ever built. I can think of many buildings that I have spent hours photographing. . . The Chrysler Building in Manhattan, The Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur, The Capitol Building in D.C., the Bank of China Building in Hong Kong, and yes, I can definitively say for me, this belongs high on the list. All the mentioned buildings are some of my favorites, whether it be the architecture, the ornament, or the context. But the Taj Mahal is about emotion. The building is a timeless story unto itself. Walking the grounds, taking in the endless views, you see a story of undying love and devotion unfold and you admire the embodiment of that in a structure. As an architect myself, it speaks on what vision and passion can accomplish. I was surprisingly moved.

Florence

2005-12-11T21:25:00.000-08:00

Heading to Florence from Venice - because well, why not?? I remember coming here as a young girl. I was 14 and I thought this was the most wonderful place I had ever been. (I had not yet been to Venice). I returned a couple of times during the period that I studied architecture in Krakow. It is always charming to me and (in my opinion) the gelato is superior to anywhere in Italy . However, one of the only real things to do here is shop - and I'm complaining about this why???? I'm not really. BUT, believe it or not, yes, I can tire of endless days of unparalleled Italian quality goods. Its actually torture for me. Between salivating over the leather luggage and marbelized paper and sinking myself into the fur coats and cashmere sweaters, I found myself wishing I had a money tree in my back pocket. OH the humanity !!! Its just TORTURE. I found so many luxurious items, I couldn't see straight . . LITERALLY, I could not focus on one item. I just lived in the distraction of pretty things at every turn in this haven of merchandise !!

Truthfully, one cannot come to Florence and not mention the Duomo. Built over a total period of 6 centuries (the 13th through the 19th) it is a triumph of Florentine architecture. It evolved in its design over the centuries, but it eventually was credited to Brunelleschi, who designed and implemented its famous ribbed dome. The city of Florence has done a great job in guiding enthusiasts into and up inside the vast dome every day. It is a maze to traverse, but fun all the same. The view from the top of the dome is one to remember. A must see if you ever find yourself venturing through Tuscany. Florence and its Duomo are an unforgettable sight.

Venice

2005-12-08T14:23:00.000-08:00

Ahhhh, Venice. . . undoubtedly one of my favorite places. It has always been a place where I have felt totally at ease and comfortable. I come here when I need to be somewhere "different." Beneath the commercial tourism and souvenir shops beats the heart of a charming and unique city with a distinct link to its past as an affluent trading center. Walking in Venice transports me to an earlier time. I love the architecture, the water, the carefully crafted narrow stone alleys. The art alone is enough to hold one's attention for days. Glass itself has its own persona in this endless feast for the eyes. As many times as I've explored here, I never ever lose interest. In many ways, Venice is home to me. Its a mystery really. I don't know the tie here. I just know I come again and again. Maybe its my unconfessed addiction to Italian gelato? I know that we try in the U.S. to replicate Italian gelato - all in vain. It just can't be done. It was 40 degrees outside in Venice this evening and I certainly had myself some gelato. That is some serious ice cream!!

I visited Murano today (the glass-making island) and was successful in sourcing some venetian glass for my business. I am really excited about some of the possibilities. The artists here are not only talented, but extremely well-skilled. Since the art of glass is passed down in families, the community here is very tight. The Muranese take their art very seriously and Venetians hold this art in high regard.

I find that I'm not ready to leave Venice just yet. I've had only a few days and the weather has been amazing. Very lucky indeed since its December. It is a bit on the cold side, but worth every shiver. I'll return as soon as I can. Probably not for a few years knowing my schedule. It is such an amazing place - and yes, quite romantic. I hope to return someday when the romantic aspect of the city has a little more impact on me. :) Sharing this city with someone special will be an awesome thing for me. I look forward to that !

Rural Cambodia and Phnom Penh

2005-08-24T21:38:00.000-07:00

I've always wanted to get outside of Phnom Penh and see the less easily accessed areas of Cambodia. I hopped on a bus (for 4 dollars) and headed south to the coastal area of Sihanoukville, named for the famed King Sihanouk. I was amazed as I took in the scenes and aura of life in Cambodia. It is all about farming and family. I saw people working their fields and little children playing happily alongside their parents. While, it is incredibly poor and remote, life here is simple and deliberate, free from distractions of the city and commerce. It is clear that in the midst of poverty, people work to provide for each other and community thrives not from anything but neccessity.

Back in Phnom Penh now running errands, meeting friends. Here I am trying to pick out a cell phone with the help of my friend Win. He is one of the key people in making my life easy when I am doing business in Phnom Penh. He and his cousin Mykeoung (who likes to be called the western version - Michael) cart me around town and help me out tremendously with day to day tasks and getting around. It wouldn't be the same experience in Phnom Penh without them.

This is a photo from one of my favorite breakfast spots. . . La Croisette. It is on the river and serves the most scrumptous warm french bread in the morning. I love the outside terrace and the breeze. I love the people that work here. I love the sights I see every morning I eat here. I love the orange marmalade. Here Buddhist monks are passing through hoping for alms from the various practicing Buddhist workers. It is a common sight, but this seemed to be so beautiful to me. The orange robes and the sunlight. Judging from the particular color of Saffron, these particular monks are progressing in their service. First year monks wear a muted-orangy brown color. Second year's progress to a brighter orange and Third years wear a brilliant saffron hue that denotes their level of committment to their chosen religion. It is always a sight to see the orange array of colors walking down the street.

I was able to catch up with my friend Ellerie for lunch. This is one of my favorite spots in Phnom Penh. It is a little restaurant & guest house across from the Taul Sleng museum called The Bodhi Tree. If you are ever in Phnom Penh, you must go there (that and "Friends," another FAVORITE spot). It is a great place to just sit, drink tea and play cards for as long as you want.

Mary Knoll Orphanage - Phnom Penh, Cambodia

2005-08-22T21:02:00.000-07:00

I have a good friend from Los Angeles who has been living and working in Phnom Penh. She is with an organization that handles children that have been removed from slavery and trafficking. I can't really elaborate much due to security reasons for her, but she is doing amazing work in this field and helping in the healing to begin in these young girls. In the course of her work with Cambodian children, she has gotten involved in one of the local orphanages. Mary Knoll is primarily comprised of babies and youth that have lost their parents to AIDS. Some of the children have HIV and others have yet to test positive. There is always the hope, of course, that they will not contract the disease. She visits regularly and I get to visit with her when I am in Phnom Penh for work. I have fallen in love with the kids. There are two branches: one facility with babies and toddlers, and then another for 5 yrs. and up. I love to see them and just spend time with them. Most of them simply just love to be held. I have one baby in particular that I just love to see grow and make progress. I want to bring him home with me every time - Baby Pana. He is so sweet and timid and just a little angel. There is also a little boy that I call "Baby Srikant" because he looks exactly like my mom's friend Srikant from India. These are a couple of pics from this visit. The first one of Baby Pana and myself is from an earlier visit this April.

Disney !

2005-07-19T09:51:00.000-07:00

Disneyworld . . . so much fun for me for pretty much one main reason . . . I was with some of my MOST favorite people . . John Mark and Victoria Harrell. While I was visiting their hometown this summer, we took a few days and braved the crowds at the Wonderful World of Disney. It was fairly typical Disney . . long lines, heat exhaustion, large icy colorful slurpees. We hit the park running and tackled it like a science. There is a nice little system they have down for line-waiting called "fast pass" (which I insistently called "fast-track" due to our Bay area fast-trak system for bridge tolls). One goes to the ride of choice, inserts their Disneypass and gets a little ticket for when to return later that day as to avoid hours waiting in line. The three of us organized each of our days in a way that the fast-pass would be most beneficial. We had it down to a science. One of us would be waiting in line and the other two would go to the next ride with our tickets and get our fast-passes so that when we would be finished with one, we could hop into the fast-pass line for the next one. This was especially prudent for rides like "Aerosmith," a great indoor dark roller coaster at MGM. Blaring Aerosmith tunes in the headrest, the coaster starts at a rest and is catapulted to 60 MPH in just a few seconds. I made fun of John Mark the first time we rode it saying he screamed like a little girl in that first jolt. I'm still laughing over the memory. It was HILARIOUS. We rode it again several times.

Due to simple logistics, our first day happened to be more focused on Epcot. We wandered around the various science exhibits and saw the undersea world of beautiful marine life. Making it to the "world showcase," we started to get hungry and ended up in Germany for Bratwurst sandwiches. YUM. It was so good that we immediately started thinking about dinner. I asked both of them what they wanted for dinner and having already made a brief trip to Morocco for henna, they both suggested going back for dinner. You have to love kids who are willing to try "out of the box" foods. And by out of the box, I mean NOT McDonalds. Both John Mark and Victoria (as well as their siblings) have benefited from living in San Francisco. They are exposed to new and interesting foods and have thus developed a quite sophisticated palate. I notice this every time I ask them where they want to eat. The response is usually, HMM, how about Thai food, or Indian or some equally succulent adventure into exotic cuisines!! How lucky am I!

All in all our time at Disney was great fun. Our last night was mostly spent synchronizing our watches and scientifically plotting out the most effecient way to get in as many rides as possible. One of my greatest memories will be the three of us sprinting through Epcot after "Test Trak" (having been VIP'd by one of the ride stewards) to catch the tram to MGM for one last fix from Aerosmith. By that time we were worn out. Our motto of "power through" was coming to a close. It was a great couple of days and we are already planning our next foray into roller coaster world next summer at Busch Gardens. I'm already counting the days !

Koh Phi Phi (post-tsunami)

2005-04-29T22:26:00.000-07:00

Desperately wanting to return to Koh Phi Phi after the tsunami, I finally was able to work it into my schedule. I wanted to survey the damage myself. Hearing various stories and seeing extensive footage didn't satisfy my curiosity on what Koh Phi Phi actually looked like. After taking a flight from Bangkok to Krabi, and then a ferry from Krabi to Koh Phi Phi, I came up on quite a surprising sight. The picture below is of Ton Sai Bay. Here you can see a before and after of virtually the same place. The trees are pretty much blown out and most of the isthmus is bare. Where lush palms and terraces of bouganvillier existed before, only sand and concrete ruin remain. I was a bit shocked.

before

after

After wandering a bit, I had to catch my longtail boat for the west side of the island - which I hear to be virtually untouched by the tsunami and well preserved - save the bridge that blew out making the Phi Phi Village only accessable by longtail boat - a bit of an inconvenience for a girl who loves to hike to and from "civilization" (a.k.a the main village). Taking the 30 minute longtail ride to the west side - passing the playful dolphins on the southern most point - I arrived to find the Phi Phi Village beautifully preserved and completely serene. It was a wonderful few days as I asked the locals the where's and how's of their personal tsunami experiences. The stories were sad, heartbreaking, frustrating and yet triumphant as they celebrated the island's rebirth and reconstruction. I remember one specific account in particular. One of the divers at the Phi Phi Village said he remembered the calamity and devastation concentrated around the tiny isthmus. As the helicopters started to arrive from Phuket, they soon realized they had no where to land. The water was just too unpredictable in the tiny little land mass. All they could do was to drop in supplies and aid, but landing and airlifting was out of the question. He said it was heartbreaking watching the helicopters turn around and fly away. I can only imagine.

(Bau, a longtail driver telling me what he did when the wave hit).

I found in every case, they were all ready to talk about it. They were anxious to tell me their story. I asked away as much as I could because a small part of me knew it was a good thing. I wanted to draw out as much conversation as I could and be a voice that a real experience and story could land. I felt really priviledged to get such first hand accounts.

All in all, as I continued to explore the island, I found that rebuilding is happening everywhere. Joint efforts abound. There is a volunteer salvage dive every morning. There are relief funds around every corner. There are concerted efforts by the locals as well as the Thai government to replan and rebuild Koh Phi Phi well and deliberately with sensitivity to the island and its beauty at the forefront.

Vietnam

2005-04-20T08:47:00.000-07:00

Mom and I had a wonderful night celebrating her birthday. We went to the beautiful Sofitel hotel here in Hanoi. Since we had a heavy Veitnamese lunch, we had a light salad & fine cheese dinner. She had champagne while I had port (mmmm) followed by a wonderful dessert sampler. The restaurant had a little classical guitar and violin duet which played happy birthday as they brought out her dessert with a candle and all the beautiful little Vietamese women sang happy birthday to her. (they even turned out the lights in the restaurant. it was really nice!! (and GREAT food). I had gathered cards from our family prior to coming to Southeast Asia in order to give to her on her birthday. She was very touched feeling like her whole family was able to celebrate with her.

I've enjoyed exploring Vietnam. My favorite things are absolutely the ceramics !! Any of you who know me well know my facination and OBSESSION with dishes. I LOVE DISHES. Its a big weakness. I find myself loaded down every time I get on a plane coming home from Southeast Asia. Most of the time I've busted my 7 kilo carry on limit so I'm toting a couple of cups in my pockets and dishes stuffed somewhere inconspicuously. I will just DIE if they ever decide to weigh ME. I befriended the dish ladies here at the Ben Thahn Market in Saigon. It was a fun market, full of bizarre things: snake wine, candied crayfish, silk EVERYWHERE, exotic coffees and teas, every kind of rice imaginable and lovely lovely people.

Halong Bay, Vietnam

2005-04-19T21:35:00.000-07:00

Halong bay was quite fun, full of beautiful scenery and also a very "interesting" adventure. It was adventure in of itself just to get to our boat !! Having no real docks, boats just stack up near the shore and one just climbs aboard one boat to get to another boat. We ended up just wandering around until we found which boat we should actually BE on. It was funny. Its stuff like that that I love about Asia. Never in a million years would you find that in the USA. Too many lawyers to sop up that opportunity !!

We each had our own cabins onboard our junk (using the word "junk" very appropriately). We went to sleep comfortably (yet on the warm side) about 4 in the morning. I woke to find an enormous (2") cockroach crawling up my arm. Since I'm not a fan of sleeping with the bugs (especially ones with their own zip codes), I jumped out of my bed to survey the situation. There were two huge ones on the wall, and one RIGHT next to my pillow. My own little "family" to keep me company. It was at this point that I said to myself . . o.k. there is really no way for me to know for sure just HOW many roaches are in this room. Was the one on my arm part of this particular troupe of roaches? Or was he some other renegade roach taking a vacay from his original family in the galley? In other words, how many roaches am I going to have to kill in order to go back to bed. Knowing going back to sleep in this room simply wasn't in my foreseeable future, I scurried over to mom's cabin and knocked on her door. She finally opened her door to the sounds of me . . . squealing & pleading to come in. She had me crawl in with her and assured me she had NO roaches. My feelings at this point in my fatigue were "If I don't see em, they ain't here. That clearly wasn't the case next door in the roach motel. As I started to settle back down and get sleepy again, mom started into the snoring. I said to myself, "Well, its either snoreville or roachtown, i'll take the snoring any day." If you've ever heard my mom snore, you know I must have been really desperate !!

I wouldn't be hitting the highlights of Halong bay if I left out the Ancell girls. Little Georgia and Olivia Ancell, from New Zealand are just bundles of energy and became my little pals aboard my roach-infested junk. AHHHH, the joys of meeting cool people while traveling. We played cards by night, and lounged on the sundeck by day. At any given time I could hear one of them calling me somewhere from their spot on the boat "Jeeeesica, Jeeessica." Their little Kiwi accent was enough to make these two little high energy bundles welcome anytime !! I so enjoyed hanging out with them and their parents, John and Carolyn.

SO, quite a few adventures I had coming out of Halong bay. We are heading back to Hanoi and then back to Bangkok so I can finish up some business with manufacturers. I've enjoyed the time in Vietnam, but I'm looking forward to my Thai food. :)

Seoul, Korea

2004-09-04T21:58:00.000-07:00

Getting to Seoul was actually a bit of an accident. I missed an Air India flight out of Bangkok due to not checking the time correctly. I was scheduled on a 12:30 a.m. flight with a 10:30 check in time. The check in time listed September 4th instead of September 3rd - the flight was actually the night of the 3rd, early morning of the 4th. I discovered this, horrified, because there are only two Air India fights out of Bangkok a week. My mom was with me on this trip and started making phone calls to the airlines trying to get us out. It was hopeless. No one would help us because we were on a Delta ticket and the delta office wasn't open for re-ticketing until Monday. I had to catch a flight on Monday out of San Francisco back east that I would miss unless we flew out that Saturday or Sunday. We finally got in touch with the Delta office in the states and they said they could do nothing for us while we were still in Bangkok, but we should go to their partner airline Korean Air in the Bangkok airport. Taking their advice, we headed there to speak with the KA people. They pretty much ignored us and said we would have to wait for the Air India flight on Wednesday. I basically said to the guy that we HAD to get out of Bangkok and that I would just wait there in the Korean Air office until they authorized putting me on one of their flights. They didn't know how stubborn I was then, but they figured it out when they didn't see us leave after a while.

They eventually relented and put us on the flight out that evening to Seoul where we could catch a Korean Air flight to San Francisco. It ended up being not so bad because we had a full day in Seoul to explore. It was something we might not have experienced had it not been a total accident.

Seoul gave us a peek at what a more northern Asia looks like. The architecture was completely different and the climate is a bit more accommodating. We hit the main sights to see, the Heunqnyemun Gate, the new modern buildings, the markets and street stalls. By the end of the day, we were exhausted and had to return to the airport for yet another long-haul flight. What was a big mistake on my part ended up being a nice little serendipitous peek into a country I might not have otherwise visited.

The Long-Necked Karen Tribe

2004-08-19T17:15:00.000-07:00

Near the Thailand-Burmese border exist a tribe of villagers who have migrated over from Burma (Myanmar) over the years. They now allow people in to their village to exhibit their way of life. Dressed in the traditional garb, the women are adorned in heavy brass rings in order to lengthen their limbs (hence the name . . "long-necked" Karens). Although their way of life seems to be preserved, if the truth be told, modernity is slowly creeping in. The village now has electricity and they have many modern amenities that make village life much easier. It is quite interesting however to see their traditions live on and the ways of the past that still remain.

Northern Thailand and the Elephants

2004-08-19T16:45:00.000-07:00

One can't come to Thailand and not experience the life of the elephant. The elephant is a cherished animal in Thailand. They are protected against poaching and valued as a magical animal. Each elephant has a caretaker - called a "mahout" in this part of the world (and India). Each mahout is familiar with his particular elephant and each elephant can easily recognize his own mahout. Elephants are easily trained and become quite helpful giants in bulding, moving and hauling. The mahout then becomes a caretaker and custodian to his elephants best interests. I was lucky enough to get to the elephant sanctuary in northern Thailand where I got to spend time feeding a brand new baby some bananas and catch the life of the mahout and his charge in action. I cought some great shots of bathtime. They really do know how to have some fun as they splash water all over themselves and dousing their mahout in the process. They really are an amazing animal and so fun to see in action.

Chiang Mai

2004-08-16T16:09:00.000-07:00

Chiang Mai is very different than Bangkok. Smaller and quieter, it feels a bit more manageable than the larger capitol city of Thailand. Retaining the same Thai flavor and hospitality, it has a bit more to offer in the cultural avenues. There are Thai puppet shows and traditional Thai dancing and dinners. I visited the umbrella factory, the silk farm, the lacquer factory, the butterfly sanctuary and the orchid farm. Everything was so beautiful I wanted to bring everything home with me. Two suitcases just aren't enough. And the Thai massage here !!

Phnom Penh Airport Challenges

2004-08-10T10:57:00.000-07:00

Running around doing errands here in Bangkok. Got my label samples back. I was pleasantly surprised !! I had no expectations so there was no where to go but up. They are doing the final runs to be picked up on Saturday. Hopefully it will go smoothly. Heading to Chaing Mai tomorrow. I have a cold. Just flew in from Phnom Penh last night and just as I am able to equalize again, I'll be heading back up there to 30,000 feet. EEWWWW. I'm hoping I get cleared up by Sunday. (when we head
to Koh Tao to hopefully dive).

I have to tell the nightmare story from yesterday evening. We headed to PP airport (via my friend/manufacturer Sam) and when we got to BKK airways counter, they said we were overweight and that we were allowed only 20 kilo's (what the hell is 20 kilo's? - I have NO clue). ANYWAY, we were like. . . uh, no, we are traveling internationally, we are allowed TWO 80lb bags. They said, oooooh noo lady, the peice concept not work in cambodia. We only allow 20 kilos per person !! Somehow we got from BKK to PP no trouble, but now they were trying to "stick it to us" on the return, charging an arm and a leg for the extra weight. Well, we were already short on cash and they wouldn't take a VISA (go figure). I'm sure Jo Airport Dude is back there in the back "collecting." Mom fights it out with them while I go over to pay our departure tax (25 US dollars per person). I go into my money belt to get the 50 dollar bill I was saving out for the departure tax . . . and no fifty dollar bill! I totally freak out, it totally wasnt' there. I have about 2 dollars in my wallet and a few reils (Cambodian currency almost no longer in use) some THAI baht, and Japanese Yen. I couldn't (and STILL) can't figure out where that 50 went because I was saving it specifically for the departure tax. It was just an expensive careless mistake. Anyway, they are yelling at me to hurrry up or we will miss the plane. Meanwhile, Mom is trying to hash out a visa card arrangment with the ground crew once we get to BKK where we can get money (there are no atm's in Cambodia). It was needless to say, not pretty. Amidst the urges from the airport staff to hurry myself along, I convice the lady that if she wanted departure tax from me, she would have to take in in Thai baht & Japanese Yen. We RAN to make our flight, (pissing off immigration in the process). Finally, once in the air, as we sucked down some red wine for sanity, mom looked over at me cracking up and said, "Wow, I wonder how badly your Dad would flip out if he knew we were flying from Cambodia to Bangkok with absolutely no cash." !! I laughed. And for those of you who know my "by the book, dots every i, fighter pilot," father, this makes sense to you. !! (love you Poppy). :)

Koh Phi Phi (pre-tsunami)

2004-02-19T19:08:00.000-08:00

Ahhhhh, Koh Phi Phi. I'm sure this is going to be one of my favorite spots of all time. The plan was for my friend Laura to meet me here a day later, but she had some business to attend to and couldn't make it. SO, I ended up here alone which has turned out to be fine actually. I've been getting my open water diving certification. It has been great and I have a one-on-one with a British instructor - Leo - who is fabulous. Not only is he a great diver, he's a passionate naturalist and points out every cool marine creature he finds. Its been really fun.

I've ended up staying at the Phi Phi Princess which is SO wonderful. I can't leave out how I got here though. I was at the Tara "Resort" and while skeptical upon check-in, my fears were realized as I woke up with a prickly feeling all to discover ants crawling all over me. Needless to say, I checked out first thing in the morning and checked into the Phi Phi Princess with no regrets. I have my very own wonderful little wood bungalow - wide planked wood floors - with fresh orchids left for me every day. It has been amazing and I already know I must return.

Diving has been the best. I'm hooked. I've seen so many little fantastic creatures - starfish, moorish idols, butterfly fish, clownfish, parrotfish, and my most personal favorite, lionfish. I saw a whole school of lionfish actually which is a bit rare. They were amazing. So graceful and soft as they move through the water.
I must have eaten as this great little Thai place "Lemongrass" almost every day. The woman who runs it, Kay, is a beautiful little Thai woman who always makes me an extra juicy mango fruitshake. Her Penang is among the best I have ever had and don't even get me started on the Green Curry.

One thing I noticed unique to Koh Phi Phi are the kitties. There are cats everywhere. Large, small, and kittens!! I heard these little cries one afternoon and found this little teeny thing. I "adopted" him, gave him some milk out of my mini-bar and he has ended up staying on my porch for four days. I would love to take him home, but I doubt US customs would exactly sail me right through.

Koh Phi Phi is a wonderful little sleepy island. I can imagine tourism will take it over eventually and it will turn into Koh Samui. Hopefully not. It is so picturesque and simple and I SO hope to return. I have had breakfast on the beach every morning and just soaked in the beautiful scenery at every turn. . . the beach, the boats, the pool, and of course, the diving.

The Tale of the Lost Ticket and the Monivong Motos

2004-02-17T10:37:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting in the Bangkok airport waiting to catch my flight south to Phuket - and on to Koh Phi Phi. I actually barely made it. Just a quick tale before I get on my flight. I had many errands yesterday before I left Phnom Penh, one of which was to pick up my ticket at RTR travel. Wading through GETTING the ticket was hard enough (a WHOLE other story). Let me preface this story with illustrating the typical method of getting around in phnom penh. There are thousands of "motos" (motobike drivers). (they don't say motoRbike, they say "motObike"). Since they are everywhere, all one has to do is walk outside and hear the word "moto for you lady" echoing through the streets in rounds. You just hop on the back and they take you anywhere you want to go all for the tune of, at MOST, 2000 riels (about 50 cents). SO, I hire myself a moto driver for an hour and head out to pick up my ticket, run to central market to get a lonely planet Thailand (sadly a decent bootleg copy can be found anywhere), run into this little shop to get a pair of earrings I had seen earlier in the week (jewelry always a priority).

I was running around like the typical madwoman I am during the last day so that I could meet some friends at 5:00 back at the Bhodi Tree restaurant for dinner. Well, I was stopping by the apartment to get some more cash and I realized on street 63, that I had gone past where we lived. I usually mark the apartment by telling the moto driver - "near wat koh" (a big buddhist temple). I no longer recognized where I was, so I got out my map, showed the moto driver where to go (always a challenge, since most moto drivers don't really get into the map thing unless there is a temple involved). As we got back on course, I realized, I didn't have my airline ticket in my bag. Before I panicked, we stopped so I could empty everything out of my bag onto the street . . . and also so the Khmer people could stare at the crazy frantic western woman in wonderment. Now I knew for CERTAIN that I didn't have my ticket. It was 4:45 and I knew that I had to get back to the travel agency since they were closing and I was leaving in the early morning. I tried to explain to Mr. Moto Man where to go (keep in mind, English exists of wat something, wat something, wat something, and 2000 riels. "Travel agency" wasn't exactly a big part of the vocabulary. I finally got him to Monivong Boulevard (the Van Ness of Phnom Penh) and he kept trying to turn around to go to wat Koh!!!

As the clock was ticking away, I continued to freak out. After turning around about 4 more times, I finally just jumped OFF the moto and started running down the middle of Monivong Boulevard toward RTR travel. I was the ship and the hundreds of Monivong Motos were the parting water. I couldn't help but laugh at myself and the sight it must have been, sprinting the wrong way down the middle of the busiest street in the city at rush hour. Out of breath, I make it to the travel agency where they sadly tell me, that I would have to buy a new ticket. This wasn't exactly Northwest Airlines E-ticketing. PAPER tickets are still the only way to go here. I didn't know what to do, so I asked one of the guys there to run me over to the store I was before just to double check. Got there . . . uh, no sight of the ticket. The tears were just welling up. Hopelessly, I asked him to drive down street 63 (where I was lost). My mind of course, was in serious questioning saying "Jessica, how do you expect to find a tiny piece of paper just out around, in the open area in a place you don't even know how to get back to in the first place". It was about 5:30 by this point and all I could do was pray. I just gave it one last shot, driving a few kilometers down the road, looking off the back of the moto right and left, holding on for dear life, when I looked behind me for some reason and saw a flash of blue laying right in the middle of busy street 63. I jumped off, ran over, picked up the paper and the words Bangkok Airlines jumped out at me like a lottery ticket. There, in the middle of the street, the crazy American girl jumping up and down, hugging random Khmer people right and left. . . . I couldn't believe it, 45 minutes later, mylost airline ticket, back in my hands again.

SO, all that to say. this is typical me. Welcome to my world. It will probably never change. I can travel 1/2 a world away, and I'm
still me. My family would call it "the black cloud." (true to some extent). I see it as a constant test. The Universe trying to get me to just CRACK up!! I'm reminded of my friend Paige Porter and all her crazy stories that happen in her many travels for her magazine. I think we probably shouldn't be allowed to travel together. :)

Angkor Wat and the Postcard Children

2004-02-13T21:34:00.000-08:00

Angkor Wat, a collection of temples spread out about 40 miles outside the city of Siem Reap, Cambodia. They were all built between the 8th and 13th centuries with the Temple of Angkor as the main temple of the complex. I arrived at Angkor early enough to catch the sunrise. It was quiet and peaceful and felt other-worldly. I was amazed by the architecture itself and the art within. It was emblematic of an ancient cathedral with its long high naves and its quiet transepts. One of the most unique things about the entire temple complex is the variation of religious motifs. Since the Cambodian rulers and kings vascillated between Buddhism and Hinduism, one finds very clear shrines to various buddhas and Hindu dieties. They would simply build new altars right over the old ones. I was amazed to find so much represented in one little area.

After walking around the main temple of Angkor, I headed back out to grab a snack and ran across some great little school-age entrepreneurs. Their english was almost perfect !! When I asked them how they learned such good english, they replied . . . "Oh, we learn alot from talking to the tourists. Where are you from?" I told them I was from San Francisco and the little leader of the gang said to me, "Oh, I know exactly where that is. It is in California and the capital of California is Sacramento." I was amazed by these great little entertainers. They were alot of fun and they BEGGED me to buy their postcards (a very typical thing in tourist destinations all over Southeast Asia - kids selling stuff). I couldn't refuse the postcards - a whole dollar for 8.

I continued out on my Angkor trek to the rest of the temples. I hit the Bayon Temple next which turned out to be my favorite. I think it was the symmetry and proportion that really struck me. It was so similar at every turn, yet it continued to amaze me. I just coudn't believe that something like these temples could be built as early as the 9th century!!

My next stop was the Ta Phrom Temple. It is one that is somewhat close to me since my manufacturers chose to honeymoon here and also made it the namesake of their business. It is fabulously ethereal and completely overgrown by the surrounding jungle. I easily felt like I was in my own little Jumanji movie. It was a playground for photography. In fact, the last cover of the Cambodia Lonely Planet was shot here. Sadly, the pictures pale in comparision to how cool it actually is.

My last stop of the day was at the Bakeng Temple. This is customarily the point where people end the day since it is a wonderful spot to see the sunset. One has the option of taking an elephant to the top or braving the slate steps all the way up. Of course I chose the steps. The tough hike just makes the sight all the more worth it. The temple was interesting in itself, but the best thing was the many languages I heard as I roamed the site snapping sunset shots. As I sat there by myself soaking it all in, I thought to myself how neat it was to have such differences in our nationalities, yet such common threads as people who loved the beauty of the earth. It was a memorable day.

Phnom Penh Landfill

2004-02-09T22:06:00.000-08:00

During our time visiting with the children at the orphanage, Soka, the director asked us if we would like to see the place from where many of the children come. Not knowing what to fully expect, I tagged along. A short drive led us to the largest landfill I have ever seen. Not that we all frequent many. . .we may pass one on a country road or rural town. But this was no ordinary landfill. It was the size of Pac Heights, Cow Hollow and the Marina combined. As we got out of the car and approached the area, the smell of methane grew so intense, I remember remarking to myself, “I don’t know how long I will be able to take this.” Right at this moment I saw a small child rummaging through the garbage looking for anything that could claim a price. The photographer in me had to retreat to behind the lens. As I sat there behind my 400mm telephoto, I began to catch anonymous glimpses of life in a landfill: Children running after the garbage truck to claim the premiums amongst the newest arrivals, watching them find such fascination in their new finds. They had it down to a science. They would sort the plastic from the perishables, the metals from the glass, the edibles from the deadly. Here, in the midst of serious oxygen shortage, frail children found a method in the madness. My eyes were unable to connect my brain to what was happening around me. I felt like I was a stranger in a surreal world. Yet, the harshness of reality wouldn’t have me disconnect any longer. A truck came from behind, passed me and I caught a glimpse of two boys in the back trailer. They realized that I was taking their photo and laughed, gestured, & waved excitedly. Amongst an entire cities’ filth, these young children somehow found moments of fun and laughter. I was suddenly aware of the human-ness I had just encountered. This wasn’t an allusion. This was as real as it gets. Barefoot, starving children, living in total waste, scavenging for anything that could offer a profit. All I could do was just weep over my guilt, my ungratefulness, my American citizenship. It was the necessities of life – food, clothing, shelter – staring me in the face, asking me what I thought of myself now. I could have gone in so many directions. The fact of the matter was, … there, in the midst of the broken, the dejected, the unsightly, the barely breathable air, a blessing, in the strangest of packages carved out a new little facet in my understanding of grace. Life was unfair, but this time I knew it was in my favor.

As we made it back to the car, Soka gesturing over the garbage fields saying, “This is hell. Where the rich people are, its Heaven.” Seeing what I’ve seen, he isn’t far from the truth. Even our poorest in America are rich by Cambodian standards.

I’ve learned about just a few of the kinds of sufferings Cambodian children endure. Hundreds of families live for daily garbage trucks. This is their way of life. Poor, starving families often do whatever it takes to survive. . . even sell a child if they have to. Many of the young girls here are sold into slavery for child prostitution. There is one child at CCH that is a product of this kind of dealing. Her family knew her beauty could claim a very high price so they took money, sacrificing their daughter’s innocence. She is indeed a beautiful child, but now protected by law from such criminal acts (many from men traveling here from the U.S & Europe for just such a thing).

Being here only opens eyes to the harsh realities outside of bubble life. We can read about what goes on in poor and volatile areas of the world in our National Geographics & Newsweek. We Hear Oprah tell us to get helping during a “use your life special.” Occasionally one of our liberal newspapers runs a story to fill the NGO quota. But what a privilege, what a surprise, what a gift that I “happened” to come upon something as rare and precious as these children. I’m always amazed by God's work in the world. At the same time, after a bit of thought, I’m not surprised by it at all.

I know we all get those emails that talk about how if we have one dollar in our pockets, we are richer than 95% of the world. At the risk of sounding preachy and cliché, remember as you lay your heads down on your many-thread count pillowcases, think about the little toddlers in the landfill that will lay their heads upon a plastic water bottle, a piece of scrap-metal, a garbage bag. This is night after night with no respite. Therego we but for the grace of God.

CCH and the Mekong River

2004-02-09T12:17:00.000-08:00

I'm here in Phnom Penn, and I can only BEGIN to write about the things I've seen so I'm just going to try and hit the highlights here from my first trip to Cambodia. I’ve noticed through the course of my life as a Christian that blessings often come in strange, untidy packages that I would never notice had they not just blindsided me. There is an organization here – CCH (Center for Childrens’ Happiness) which is an orphanage in Phnom Penh that my friend Laura supports with her business. We had the priviledge of visiting there last Sunday. Upon my arrival, I was met with 24 resident children & each greeted me with the traditional southeast asian "wai" (praying hands and bow). I think it was at this point that they noticed. . .not only was I a westerner, I was a fair haired, light skinned, blue eyed westerner. Amidst the oohhhs and aaaahhs and instense looks, one of the older girls took my face in her hands and stared directly into my eyes. I could tell, it was the first time she had ever seen blue eyes. We all sat in the floor and played games, drew pictures, and did schoolwork. The children just wanted interaction. They didn't care what form it came in.

When the time finally came to head out on our outing and we all piled into the little mini-bus and made our way to the river port. Amidst the squeals of delight upon reaching the boat, we adults had to deal with the practical items at hand like water, food, life-jackets and simply . . head counts. It was an amazing time. The kids got to play in the water. Local woman sold us fresh jackfruit and handmade krama's (head scarves). For me, it was my first authentic initiation into this different world and culture. I can't begin to describe the contrast from the hasty way of life in the states. It was moments of being deliberate, of recognizing a precious human being, of soaking in surroundings. I'm very grateful for the day.

Chatuchak Market

2004-02-07T20:50:00.000-08:00

Where do I begin. Chatuchak Market - or "JJ Market" as it is often called - is such a feast for the eyes. Everywhere I turned, a photo opportunity. The most amazing thing is just the vast array of STUFF!! From hubcab world to dishes galore, from flip-flop heaven to pet-land, there was never time for my eyes to rest. I will go back again and again. It was so much fun. HOT, but fun. In the midst of shopping, I had a rest for some Thai food and then stopped for a Thai Massage. I could probably live in Chatuchak if I had to. This will certainly be a place to return. Since a picture here really is worth a thousand words, I'll let the shots do the storytelling.