Rainy Days and The Sterilization of Be Heard

Rain rain go away come again some other day, like when I'm back in America!

Rain when in a tropical paradise is a bummer, but I suppose if we love those lush green picturesque postcards we have to deal with a little rain.

With rainy season having only ended a number of days ago, and the Bananas Bungalow opening it's doors just this month a little rain is bound to fall and, when it does it is absolutely going to effect one's trip.

It seemed that the mornings were safest and with drizzle on the horizon, literally, I decided after a breakfast of pancake, banana and honey (quickly becoming my new fave) that I would rent one of the relics in the driveway known as a bicycle and take a spin around town to take some photos and clear my mind. This loner excursion quickly became a couples activity as my dorm-mate by way of Germany, who reminds me of someone from my past, and no that is not a compliment, invited herself along.

When someone says - you're going for a bike ride? I am going to come along. Is that ok? - what are your options, really? So off we went on wobbly wheels and rusted frames. Speaking of frames, home girl managed to make we way into 90% of mine, photographically speaking, not through any fault of her own, but with not standing behind me and not understanding the concept of a wide angle lens, you may see a very pale woman with short shorts and surgically enhanced pectorals in some of my shots. There was just no way around it.

I sort of just wanted to wander the winding roads.

The grass is so green, the cows so brown, the dirt so red that it appears as if a box of crayolas have spilled out onto the hills, grown damp and smeared a kaleidoscope of colors along the countryside.

Clearly I was after a poetic experience but Fräulein short shorts was a bit more regimented and was determined to get us to the lounging Buddha about 15 kilometers from our humble abode. However, on a bike that is unsafe for both your joints and your reproductive system, and the narrow seat is rearranging my remaining eggs, 15k seems like forever.

We rode for about 2 hours before giving up or merely choosing to head back in the direction from which we came. I made a quick stop at a local restaurant for a pineapple/watermelon shake and some empassioned business calls back home and, much like the day before, the bulk of my day's activities were done before 2 and I was left to shower and hide from the rain utilizing both my laptop and the few books I brought along to keep me occupied.

After several hours of paying bills online and alternating between books Klaus, the patriarch to the German family staying here (there are a lot of Germans here) suggested a field trip to the local Tesco, almost an hour away. He needed supplies for his girls and wanted to save on cab fare so he somehow managed to get 8 other people on board who didn't really need to do anything in town bu,t who had cabin fever and were eager for an adventure of any sort.

We loaded into an open sided bus for an hour long cab ride and, just to prove how familial this hostel had become in the rain, or simply how much I've given up, I didn't even bother putting on a bra to go shopping.

Shopping proved fruitless as all of the books were in Thai and all of the food stuffs were indistinguishable, but the Target adjacent superstore layout was fascinating.

Perusing the latest fashions while smelling the district smell of fish, and lots of it just inches away which, next to it had colorful octopus cookies kitty corner from dozens of dead lifeless fish bodies was an experience to say the least.

A small package of cookies at one of the kiosks was all I could muster the energy to buy and most of us left empty handed as we headed home for dinner, a spicy shrimp curry tonight that left the crowd pleased with mouths on fire.

Being lazy is almost as exhausting as being left alone with your thoughts so I put scrubs on early and after some text chatting with my big sis, I was out like a light.

My alarm was set for 5 am the following morning and by 5:15 I was on the back of a bike with Klaus at the helm and we were determined to climb the Tiger Cave Temples' infamous 1300 steps to the top. We wanted to beat the heat and he wanted to get back before his family woke so they could all start their day together leaving us with no choice but to get on the road before the sun rose.

We hadill  fitting helmets and a shoddy map to help decipher the appropriate road to the temple. Perhaps it was these two factors that led us in the opposite direction and attempting to climb any stairs we could find. We did end up at the lounging Buddha near the state park I had attempted to locate the day prior. We hadn't thought that one out clearly and after a couple quick shots of the gilted god we hopped back on the scooter and headed through Krabi to the Tiger Cave Temple.

Needing to inquire as to the appropriate direction on more than one occasion we finally made it and it was still early and cool.

1300 steps didn't sound so tough to me seeing as I became a triathlete in the not so distant past, but trust me, when stairs were built in BC they are as high as your knee and you will quickly discover what an American fat ass you are.

Klaus was kind and patient as he hopped along like this was some school yard game. We made it to the top in under 30 minutes and man was it worth it.

A 360 degree view of the vibrantly green surroundings, a random dog guarding the top and a lot of monkeys I was pretty sure wanted to be my friend were to be found.

I had never really encountered monkeys in the wild and I quickly became an excitable school girl at her first One Direction concert. If the monkeys and dog hadn't had beef and the master monkey in charge didn't look like he could tear my flesh from bone I for sure would have bonded with the primates.

It soon became clear that the dog was here to protect us and that my love for animals transcends language, as the black and white pup followed us all 1300 steps down and cut any potential monkey encounter off at the pass, like the protective older brother I always wanted but never had, it was frustrating but sweet.

After our extended experience and second day of vehicular sterilization in a row, my crotch needed a break and we had to get back to the hostel for Klaus to meet his family and me to wash the mountain funk from my increasingly freckled face.

Seeing as I had the motorbike rented for the whole day I thought, why not face my fear and ignore my lady part pain and actually drive one of these bad boys - and that is exactly what I did. After a quick change and a quick tutorial on gas and break, I was off. First to get gas which required the help of a local and the off to Ao Nang.

As I've stated before when I am traveling is likely the only time I am at ease and the fact that somewhere along the way I seem to have missed the turn off to Ao Nang didn't bother me a bit. I took the added time on the road to get comfortable with speed and take in the sights.

There were small villages who's children came rushing out to say good morning, in English, as they don't see many folks like me in these parts and there were many, many stray dogs, some of whom seem to have been Aronofsky fans as they were fully ass to ass.

I even got picked up on while in movement on the highway by a man who turned  his bike around to talk to me yet didn't talk to me at all, as he didn't speak or understand a single syllable of English. Thank you strange man for making me feel like I still internationally got it!
It was a lovely experience and though I didn't have a destination per se, after lots of back and forth I ended up in Krabi Town which looks very different during the day.

I stopped in for some lunch, ordering whatever the waiter recommended and, in turn, having my first green curry.  It had chicken and a vegetable I couldn't pick out in a lineup - nonetheless it was delicious.

A long ride back with the 'Begin Again' soundtrack in my ear was when I really hit my stride on the bike and the sun came out in appreciation.

With my first chance for vitamin D in days, once I returned, I dropped trow and headed to the pier for some reading and relaxation before the storm inevitably set in again.

Family dinner was bland but the little girls here have really warmed up to me and when playing with children I don't actually think the language barrier poses much of a problem. Or I am learning German through osmosis.

Every so often, waiting out the rain reaps rewards and when I woke this morning the skies were clear and the sun was calling, beckoning me to the sandy shores and tempting me with promises of bronzed skin and pre-cancerous melanoma.

The Bananas has directions to two local beaches in it's lobby and feeling as though I should take advantage of the sun as long as I had it I was off with laminated instructions in hand to find either the Coconut Beach and the Secret Beach. When faced with those two options I think the choice is pretty clear.

Secret Beach was more descriptive than clever because as I walked for about an hour in the increasing morning heat, schlepping my two bags I couldn't find the bastard. I walked down each and every 'dirt path' I could find and mostly they just led to nowhere.

Defeated and more than a tad annoyed I headed back 'home' to consult the trusty Lonely Planet that I have barely cracked on this voyage but that I always like to tote around for good measure.

Just as I began to leaf through the newsprint pages Andrew, a volunteer here at the hostel by way of the UK, offered to drive me there on his motorbike - my prince in shining tank top.

As I was led down the road, up a hill and through the forest to grandmother's house it became quite clear that there is no way I could have navigated this path on my own and, after some sneaky barbed wired scaling and descending from the side of a mountain - there were were. At high tide.

11 am is high tide and that leaves about 6 inches of beach to enjoy. Andrew was kind enough to go exploring for rocks and shells as I took some photos of the orange and lavender speckled rocks and bathed myself in the Adaman Sea. After an hour or so he offered to drop me at Coconut, which he insisted I should be able to locate myself from the road side, on his way back to work.

Usually possessing a keen sense of direction, this place is bonkers with people literally gesturing in a general direction as an aid in times of navigatory trouble.

I did find a beach, nestled behind an outdoor bar and as I laid in the sun and enjoyed the breeze for several hours I had nothing but sad music and happy crabs to keep me company. It was quiet and serene and beautiful and, just like all good things. It came to an end. An end by way of torrential rainstorm that set in almost the moment I stepped off the beach to walk the several miles back to my hostel.

I took cover next to a couple of beautiful peacocks, all of us ready to bolt at the first sign of clear sky and, after 30 minutes or so I decided to just go for it - put my clothes in a bag, wrapped myself in the Thai fabric I had brought as a beach towel and, doing my best Gaugin impression, looking more like a native Thaitian woman wandering down the roads in thongs and a colorful wrap, long brown locks hanging low in the rain.

With the kindness of a local bus driver I was deposited back at Bananas in time to shower, put on my MJ sweatshirt and get ready for some grub. With only one day left in Krabi, and having fallen a bit in love with the place, I feel confident saying that this is on my 'may return someday' list.

Thoughts Are Physical and My Pants Are Too Tight

They say you don't know what you got till it's gone, but I'm not sure that is always the case.

I've always know California is a great place from which to come. I've been confident that my best friend is one of the greatest people to ever walk the planet. And I was certain, with every ounce of my being that my father was as special as he was loved. Sure, I may have questioned some of his decision making skills, as we all do with those we love - but my confidence in him as a dad and as a person never wavered and I felt blessed each and every time I was able to make him chuckle on the other end of the phone.

I think it is when we lose those things; the things we cherished when we had them, that it hurts the most.

It was with this heavy heart and swirling mind that I began my first day alone in Thailand. When the distraction of a travel companion is taken out of the equation that you only have your thoughts, memories, and feelings to keep you company it can be dangerous. Being terribly charming and endlessly amusing this is usually not a problem for me, but this particular morning was rough.

With sugar as the only substance upon which I rely in times of trouble, or in times of waking hours, I selected for the healthier option to clear my mind and went for another morning run to Santichaiprakarn Park, my new favorite not only for its proximity to my pad but for the tai chi and Zumba participants doing their best to mimic actual physical activity when really they are just shaking their groove thing to Rhianna on their headphones in sweatpants.

Relinquishing any fantasy that I will remain clean for more than 5 minutes at a time, tops, whilst in Thailand I postponed the shower and set up shop in the outdoor lobby of my hostel to get some tech time and catch up on emails, work, and personal business. Also, to make a couple calls home and hear some familiar voices.

After a shower and a switch from a double in room B 32 to a single in room B 31 for a reasonable 330 baht a night I felt that familiar pang - of hunger.

Though Chomp had not proven itself useful in terms of a yoga destination the previous day I decided to head to the Brit run establishment for their famous burgers. A massively huge chicken sandwich was evidence that it was Western run and the spotty WiFi proved it was still in the third world. The lack of modern distraction allowed me to sink into the book I recently purchased at The Strand for this adventure. 'Hector and the Search for Happiness' seemed appropriate and had colorful cover art so I was sold.

An hour or two of Hector's trials, tribulations and triumphs throughout the world searching for what makes people across the globe happy was not terribly enlightening, but it was sweet, and entertaining and that was enough for today.

With some time before I had to set out to visit Laura in Sayala I luxuriated in the form of a midday nap. Not a terribly exciting day, but sometimes the simple things are the sweetest.

Thinking I'd give myself some time to let higher education rub off on me at Mahidol University, the name of which had been emailed to me phonetically, before Laura got out of class, I hailed a cab, negotiated a price and was soon on my way. My driver absolutely did not speak English so when he turned down some unsavory alleyways outside of town literally swerving to avoid sleeping or dead vagrants mid- road I was a bit suspicious. Turned out he had better things to do and just wanted to swap out and have his son drive me the rest of the way.

After some help from the international student center staff I located Population and Social Research building and began to wait, observing the throngs of uniformed students on bikes traversing the campus thinking - I am pretty sure I wore pajamas to class, i.e. I'm so very American.

Laura soon emerged from class with her fellow graduate students emitting curiosity and cultural intelligence from their pores.

I had been informed there was a local yoga class for 10 baht. Turns out local was on campus where a staff member hosted weekly classes in a back room that was part storage, part studio. The next two hours involved a lot of sweat, a lot of stretching, and a lot of touching tiny strange Asian women.

The first hour was essentially Bikram, followed by couples yoga where I got to link sweaty body parts with a woman 1/3 my size, and all in the name of wellness.

Excited to show me her new home, Laura took me to the outdoor strip of market that faces the university and behind which her apartment is tucked.

We feasted on noodles and coconut ice cream and caught up. Tears and laughter were shared in equal parts and I was glad to be in the presence of my friend who I had not seen in so long.

A couple of hours were spent in the cozy student apartment that she shares with her incredibly kind and generous boyfriend trying to figure out the rest of my trip and where, along the road, she would meet up with me. After endless circles I had to call it a day and felt calm when crossing Rama Vill Bridge knowing I was close to my home for the evening.

Waking in a heat induced stupor I saw messages from a fellow traveler on my phone inviting me along to a ping pong show shortly after I had fallen asleep and I was devastated. How will I ever truly understand the female reproductive system if I do not see small plastics balls shoot out of them on command? I am at a loss.

A lengthy breakfast at a local 'French' cafe and some stressful dealings with back in the states and I was a mess.

Not only had chosen to wear one of the shelf bras I had purchased at MBK, leaving my naturally large breasts with tiny tit torpedoes, ready to take an eye out, pointing off the ends making me look like some sort of Doris Day reject, but I also didn't know what to do next. Both literally and figuratively.

I, like many people, often react emotionally and have been trying my very best to limit that behavior so I did my best impersonation of a sane person, not stressed to the point of Alopecia, and packed up my bags, checked them at the front desk and caught the 53 bus to Hualumphong train station where I used my deductive skills and blind faith in the exchange with a woman who my money in exchange for a train and bus ticket, a 15 hour journey, down south to Krabi. Krabi, where rain was expected and bugs would absolutely eat me alive, but where I was hoping to find peace, in mind and soul and if my cellulite turned a shade or two darker Id be ok with that too.

Back on the 53 wood-floored bus and I am listening to the Dixie Chicks while crawling down the streets of Bangkok. It may not seem congruent with my personality, as well as the environment and it may not be cool or hip or timely, but who the hell cares. Their lyrics are beautiful and Natalie Maine's voice conveys the beautiful pain housed in my heart - and isn't that the point of great art?

The public bus offers you a unique tour of the city,  The bumper to bumper traffic by the flower market was a highlight, and as I pass Chinatown I realize there is so much this particular city has to offer that I will never I uncover.

Usually one to respect cultural traditions after two attempts to make it only the Grand Palace and two rejections, the most recent of which was literally 'lady, you are wrong,' I have thrown in the towel on that majestic center of beauty and Buddhism.

I mean come on, I'm covered head to toe in sweltering heat yet I have to have the exact attire you deem fit at this particular destination? No wonder the homeless hippie chic/lesbian aunt ensembles is so popular amongst the 'travelers' here, because otherwise you will directly and aggressively be told that you are wrong.

If I have to dress like a middle-aged art teacher to join your illustrious club, I don't want to be a member anyway! I happen to think it would be against God's plan to hide this bodacious booty, clearly the staff at the RP disagree.

In my indignation I decided to walk home and quickly realized a) I knew my way and b) that my suspicions were correct and the cab Sharlene and I took the other day took us on an awfully circuitous route to get back. Ah, the perils of wing white.

I passed a couple of places filled with westerners and, when a delightfully green establishment just next door was filled with locals I wondered why on earth they wouldn't give it a go.

So I did.

The menu had one dish on it that, to the best of my understanding offered a selection of pork products all in on bowl. Usually not one to dig on swine, while in Rome...

The broth was full of onion and the meat palatable. Just like in my sex life, if something feels suspicious in my mouth I just try to ignore it and swallow (sorry, Mom). For a fraction of the cost of all meals previous I was satisfied and only mildly disgusted by the man making slurpy food sex noises.

A little window shopping and a stop at the photo shop where a cheerful older man took my picture for a potential Burma Visa and directed me as to attire, amount of teeth displayed and posture very specifically. I figured I should cover my bases while possible.

So I am packed. Packed and ready to head to the next city, as I have spent more than enough time in and around this one.

Hopefully there will be fun. Hopefully there will be sun. Hopefully there will be Wifi.

Till then...

I Love Your Tets

My last morning at Mushroom proved uneventful, as the pre-Tet celebration had left all guests and staff fast asleep well past the time of my departure.

I flagged a taxi and took a quick ride to the Phu Quoc airport, sad to leave the sun and sand. My sadness was only partially assuaged by perhaps the cutest little boy I have seen here thus far, sporting suspenders and so excited to be at the airport that he was literally doing the dance of joy. Both my heart and ovaries ached.

The flight up to Hanoi is a mere 90 minutes, but feel so very far away. Having left the tropical warmth held in the Gulf of Thailand I flew to the North of this long and narrow country to it's Capitol, with a climate much more similar to my native San Francisco and who's city environment, though mellow, it most certainly not the beach.

With no visible option for public transportation from the airport in Hanoi, and my Lonely Planet long since misplaced, I hopped in yet another cab, for what seemed like an eternity and with a cost that felt like a fortune. It took 45 minutes or so to arrive at 85 Hang Bac Lane where a hotel, travel agency, hostel and restaurant can all be located in an easy one stop shop. Navigating the language barrier was challenging, but once sorted out I hopped on yet another top bunk in room 402 and immediately booked a day in Ha Long Bay in 2 days time. It had been suggested to me to take more time in this most famous, picturesque location in Vietnam, but being stubborn and cheap has it's draw backs and I felt one day was sufficient. I don't leave until morning, so I will have to let you know how that worked out at a later time.

The nice man at reception suggested my first stop in the city be Hoan Kiem Lake, located just a stones throw from my temporary abode and extra beautiful with all of the final touches being put on the Lunar New Year celebration decorations. Massive floral displays, ornate lighting design and balloons floating high in the sky set the perfect back drop for a lovely day, and for a city clearly obsessed with selfies and amateur photo shoots. Literally any husband with a handheld has a model on his hands - its surreal. I managed to get some good photos myself, while weaving between women of all ages striking a pose against anything that seemed an appropriate background and took a seat by an elderly man quietly painting as I enjoyed an ice cream of indeterminate flavor while ready a John Grisham novel left behind at my last hostel and written in English. Free and in my native tongue - all the requirements met for appropriate reading material.

More meandering, a couple souvenir purchases for the boys back home and I went into what ended up being perhaps the whitest restaurant in the city. Though the staff was local and amiable, the place soon filled up with tourists of European descent and their family members while I feasted on honey baked chicken, sauteed vegetables and sticky rice. Lets pretend, for a moment this meal was at all authentic and I will sleep better knowing I both enjoyed Vietnamese cuisine in addition to feeling properly nourished, a possible first on this journey. Luckily, it was also incredibly expensive, so the guilt can persist regardless.

Being New Year's eve the city was a buzz with excitement and I made my way back down to the lake to get a front row seat to the impending fireworks show as families gathered and vendors sold fresh sausages and pineapples on the street. I found a spot, posted up and waited. The time read 9:22pm. Sure, it was chilly, but I was ok, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, right? Tet in Vietnam. I waited. I waited for what felt like a very long time before glancing back at my phone. The time read 9:37pm. Then I thought to myself. I am here alone, I have nothing to prove, and I do not want to be out on the cold. I figured I had slept through one New Year's Eve this year so far, why not make it two for two? Back in my pajamas and cozy in my bed my roommates did give me a mild amount of ribbing for not going out and enjoying the festivities, but I thought to myself, this is part of the beauty of getting older - I honestly don't give a shit if these 20 year-olds think I am cool or not. I am reading my book and going to bed. And that is just what I did.

The good thing about going to bed early (though I have not slept through an entire night since arriving in Vietnam, as I have had multiple noisy roomies since this trip's inception) is you get up early - naturally and feeling ready for the day. Have you ever noticed that when you are on holiday you can get up and 6 am and feel fantastic, but when you are at home and the alarm goes off at 6:15 you feel like homicidal maniac? I wonder why that is. Nonetheless, I dressed and went downstairs to go for a run around the lake, but was detoured for nearly an hour by one of the sweet New Zealanders with a beanie seemingly stitched to his head and a Mangum P.I. mustache charmingly draped across his very young face. Once we were met by another traveler in the form of a VERY young, VERY excitable and VERY gregarious young lady I made my exit and circled the lake with a breeze in the air and sun on my shoulders.

By the time I returned it was shower hour at the hostel and my room of 8 took turns showering and meeting, some while still lying in bed. The bunk next to mine, I would soon discover, housed two Dutch brothers, one of whom had had a pink strawberry blazer made in Thailand for Tet and had it proudly hanging from his bed. Having been passed along to some incredibly generous and helpful Vietnamese compadres through friends, I was the one with the inside track on where to go during Tet, when most everything is closed down, and quickly offered my assistance, and company to the brothers, only to be additionally joined by the girl from New Zealand and two Nordic ladies who were welcomed with their fair beauty. Setting out as a posse of 6 was overwhelming for me and though I felt a bit trapped but I decided to embrace the company and the adventure it would provide. First stop was the Temple of Jade Mountain where I felt lucky to have ended up in Hanoi during Tet, as the Vietnamese families were out in droves with offerings of fruit and money. The temple was bustling, rich with the aroma of incense and children, once again were breathtaking.

Making our way across town to the One Pilar pagoda, the troops grew weary so we ducked into a local cafe where beverages were ordered repeatedly and never arrived quite right - a theme in this country. The two brothers, Jerome and Tim were charming in that sort of obnoxious but I can't help but like you sort of way and half way through the day I found my cheeks literally in pain from smiling so much. I cannot say I remember the last time that happened. Being neurotic beyond compare, I immediately thought of the wrinkles that must be forming on my ever slackening face.

The pagoda to which we were headed happened to be right next to the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, that closes early, but has guards in their dress whites posted outside at all times. Tim tried to get one to take a photo with me, as I felt it the perfect 2014 Christmas card, but they were having none of it, despite the fact that they too were taking selfies. Ridiculous!

The accompanying museum was uninspiring but the pagoda was gorgeous and full of life. Food was the next on the agenda but we needed a ride. We found one in the form of a nice older man driving a 40 year-old military vehicle who would not allow us to pay him and to whom my dear Dutch friend introduced me as Canadian - not my finest moment - but I did not protest. I had heard admitting my Americaness in this city could prove troublesome, but I am sort of bad ass, so I didn't worry.

Dinner was uninspiring, confusing and lengthy but I'll admit a bit of flirting with a 25 year-old is fun from time to time, especially when he so clearly reminds you of the boy you were in love with in college. There was an instant ease and I was grateful for his presence in this Breakfast Club we'd created.

There was a quick stop back at the hostel, replete with a serenade from Mr. Notorious B.I.G. just for me. According to the Kristoff brothers since I am 'from the Bronx' and shoot hip hop I am gangster and since there are no gangsters in Holland I am their resident expert. If only they knew...

With the rest of the group going out to drink I figured I was game, but when they ended up at an essential frat party at a hostel bar, fraught with wasted English girls and chanting teenagers away from home for the first time I thought - maybe Danny Glover was right - and I am, in fact - getting too old for this shit. Then I thought back to 24 year-old Briana - she didn't like this sort of activity either. Feeling satisfied that my ever advancing age was not the problem, but my general discomfort with parties and plebians made it a lot easier to walk away and wander the flag-lines streets of Hanoi back to 85 Hang Bac, where I can enjoy some ice cream, some Wifi and some Bob Dylan on the juke box.

Tomorrow morning it is my day trip to Halong Bay. At least nature doesn't close during New Years.