Adulthood:


There was a T-shirt floating around multiple pop-up stalls lining the streets of Cambodia. It read:

'It's not what you see, but how you see'.

While floating about in the Gulf of Thailand,  watching the sunset dip beyond the horizon, I pondered the actual meaning behind this cheesy point. My mind was afloat just as my body was, free to move in any direction, like a fish on the sea. One part of my mind was being mesmerized by the spectrum of orange and red light bouncing off the calm water. Being joyfully taken up with the display made by schools of miniature fish jumping out of the water. Upon re-entry their bodies making the sound of hundreds of coins plopping into a fountain (The wish made on these 'coins' obviously coming true).  As I took strokes toward them, the breaching and diving became more rapid. It was all happening so fast, making it next to impossible to get a good look at them. But all I wanted to do was get a good look at them! Per my usual, this digressed into a game of sorts. Fish tag, only I was all-time 'it'. Their tails propelling them out of the water, their silver scales mirroring the color of the flaming sun, their itty bitty splash, so amusing, breaking up the glassy surface. 

The other part of my mind, the more philosophical part, went on questioning this quote: 'It's not what you see, but how you see'...

My initial surface level thoughts on the topic brought up 'how I see' the man who was sitting at the table next to me last night, knuckle deep in his nose. My perspective on the fact that every man, woman and child smokes cigarettes here, or perhaps my view on cultures that have a different understanding of how a line should function. But I wanted to go deeper, like the fish. Beyond superficial thinking.

Then I recalled a fellow traveler I met while in Cambodia. We enjoyed each other's company and conversation as she too was a social worker in her home country of the Netherlands. She was younger. Twenty four to be exact. After a few hours we came around to a conversation in which she asked me my age. I replied 34. Soon to be 35, I shared. 

"Wow", she said. "I thought you were older but would not have guessed that. How does it feel to be older traveling around with backpackers a lot younger?"

I had never even thought about it. How does it feel? Should it feel different? Older? Am I old? Suppose my years would suggest so.

I was not offended or surprised by the conversation but, in fact, quite the opposite. I was glad the topic was raised now because it has given me a moment to reflect on these questions without the clutter of work and life pressures threatening to muddle my process.  

The focus of my thought was not so much age, per-say, but more so about my own personal growth and my place in this world. I have never really felt 'old' or like an adult, in the same way Peter Pan has always refused to grow up. I hear strangers sometimes call me 'mam' and when they do I get an egodystonic feeling that creeps into my skull. It's not that I don't enjoy getting older or aging because indeed I do. I have found every step along this journey to be amazing, 'grand entirely', and the small flecks of grey growing in at my temples a mark of adventures had and life lived.  And still, I have never considered myself an adult because 'how I see it',  adults own things, adults have life insurance, adults are responsible people who don't pop out of boxes as a joke or play tag with fish. Well now, in regards to responsibility, I can say that aspect feels true, congruent with how I see myself but the label of adult surely does not. 

And then it occurred to me or struck me rather, I am approaching 35. 35! I have lived some life! I have experience in this world. I have some valuable things to contribute. 

Maybe I am an adult! 

An adult with the soul of a playful child, but an adult non the less. I can be trusted, I am responsible, I make good decisions (for the most part) and I will be turning 35 years old in June. I could be president of the United States for God's sake. Hmmm. World domination?! Mwah ha ha. 

It feels oddly rewarding to see myself in this new light. Not as if anything has changed dramatically,  just perhaps how I see it.  

After all that may I make one suggestion, 'second star to the right and straight on till morning.' 

Easter Supper 

Observing or perhaps just recognizing it to be Easter Sunday, I decided to put on my bathing suit and celebrate. It felt more a celebration of gratitude toward the universe but a celebration non the less. It involved boat tripping, snorkeling, swimming, sunset watching and supper. 

As for supper-I went out in hopeful pursuit of a nice ham dinner, complete with green beans and mashed potatoes. Actually, I did no such thing. I'm in Vietnam, quit being so gullible. 

Instead, I showed up to an outdoor restaurant full of locals and a smattering of Westerners. The place, as suggested by my local evening beer vendor, was all open air seating with a bustling kitchen set up under a corrugated iron roof. Up a steep cement ramp and I was seated just beyond the kitchen next to the live fish tanks. Barracuda, sea snake, cockles, crab and shrimp lay restless in their tanks as patrons drank beer with ice in it, lit up cigarettes and leaned back in their wobbly, brightly colored plastic chairs just off of the ground. If I didn't know any better I would think this miniature furniture was meant for children's picnics. Oh wait. They are. 

'When in Rome' I said aloud and poured my Saigon Special Beer on ice and sat back to observe the well oiled machine in front of me. It appeared to be a family run operation, three generations orchestrating the show. If I had to guess, it was the eldest son manning the woks, second eldest on the BBQ pit, dad handling the money, sister as acting sue chef, mom washing dishes, grandma refilling, topping off and replenishing everything and four other boys racing around taking orders and running food to each table. 

Orders were written down, placed on the edge of a large chopping block and taken by the eldest. He had three burners simultaneously blazing under three different woks. Pause here...Before I go any further I feel the need to discuss the versatility and magnificence of a proper Asian wok. I'm willing to bet that these particular woks have never seen soap in all their years. A splash of water and a quick hit with a bundled twig brush is the way to 'clean' these bad boys. This allows years of 'flavor' to marinate into the bones of the wok providing endless taste complexities to anything you throw into it. 

Back to the eldest, tallest and leanest boy on the woks. He throws in a splash of garlic, oil and fish sauce constantly rotating the wok until the ingredient mingle and begin to simmer. Scallops, dried squid, instant noodles are thrown in with his one free hand as the other smokes a cigarette or sucks down a jug of iced tea to rehydrate from the sweat rolling off his brow. The perfect technique of tossing a wok, practiced and perfected over the years. Round and round the ingredients fly, caramelizing and yummifying all at the same time. When the time is right, and he knows when the time is right, he empties the food onto a plate. Mom circles around with a red marker and simply writes the number of the table the food is to be delivered to directly onto the plate. She also adds a garnish of sweet basil, because it's all about presentation alongside the hand strewn marker numbers and plastic plates. 

Heading up the BBQ, is the second in line. Replacing wooden charcoal briquettes, rotating meat and prepping fish. A giant clever rests on a stump, which doubles as a chopping board. Crack crack crack and a squid is ready for the grill, a small miracle no fingers came with it given the speed at which he accomplishes this task. A sea snake needs to be tenderized and it seems in absence of a mallet there is always the trusty side of a beer bottle to do the job. His one hand operates the tongs while the other pulls up his sagging pants slipping off of his tiny frame. The smoke from the cigarette hanging out of his mouth seeps into the corners of his eyes but they are immune to it, having been working over the BBQ all night long and absorbing the wood smoke. 

My plate reads 26. It is delivered by a boy who looks no older than 15, a Monster Energy hat on his head, knock off gold Gucci belt around his waste, dark skinny jeans and flip flops. 'cảm ơn bạn' I say in what is likely the worst Vietnamese accent imaginable. The scrap hunting cats slinking around the restaurant notice me now that a plate of shrimp lie on my table. The smell of garlic is the first thing to hit my nose but more than anything I am hit by the nature of this place. The freedom. The chaos. The stark difference in this meal as compared to the Easter dinner I had last year while sitting around a table in Yosemite. 

Who knows what life will bring next year. I look forward to it. Happy Easter. 

A Review of the Senses

Sight: My eyes wandered up a piecemeal cement path that meandered alongside a tributary to the mighty Mekong River. Each twist and turn uncovering more beautiful countryside and a growing urban area, the result of population swells into Can Tho city, Vietnam.  Flourishing palm fronds and banana trees breaking up the suns's rays throwing dappled light onto the trail ahead. Brown, muddy waters of the flowing river being churned up by small wooden skiffs and fishing boats plugging along.

 

Sound: The 110 cc wiz of oncoming motorbikes zooming around bends, the rattle of my rusted bicycle chain, birds chirping, the relentless low roar of barge engines struggling against the weight of their cargo, laughter coming from small houses, orders being barked by men managing conveyer belts as one by one bags of rice and other goods are dropped onto boats for distribution around the delta. 

Touch: The sensation of the warm breeze hitting the beads of sweat collecting on the back of my neck and chest, my sit bones absorbing the shock of my tires rolling over large crags in the deteriorating cement path, the sudden halt of my inertia as I pull on the jerky brake levers, my feet in socks and shoes for the first time in weeks, emerging from the shade of bougainvillea vines into the sunlight and feeling the temperature of my skin rise. 

Smell: Smoke of small wood burning fires boiling water to make rice, fish, fish and more fish, sewage, fields of marigold flowers in full bloom, sweet mangos hanging from their trees. 

Taste: Dank air hitting the back of my throat, dragon fruit plucked from a tree and cut up for me to enjoy, steeped iced tea made from rain water collected and stored in large clay pots for just such use, Vietnamese pancakes, tangy tamarind left over on the corners of my mouth after sucking some seeds of all their chewy goodness. 

A great bike ride yesterday. 

Serious Research 

I've been doing some extensive anthropological research here in Cambodia. Submerging myself in the rich culture, thoughtfully observing and then systematically cataloging the daily lives of the people. In other words, I've been doing some hard core people watching-My favorite activity! 

I feel like a modern day beer drinking, sea swimming, noodle consuming Margaret Mead! Maybe different. Ok, really different but that's not the point. The following are some of my observations as I wander through this incredibly vibrant place. 

If you are driving a car, bus, moto or tuktuk and you are not using your horn anywhere from 30-388 times per day, you are doing it wrong. 

On long, six hour bus rides when the sun outside is baking and sweaty legs are sticking to seats, it would appear, that it is not frowned upon to bring plastic bags full of crab and small fish to place on the seat next to your neighbor. 

Amongst Chinese travelers within Cambodia, the selfie sticks per capita ratio is roughly 2:1 based on my rudimentary calculations. 

Plastic bags, styrofoam waste, plastic  bottles and general garbage clog every waterway and sidewalk. In odd contrast leaves, dust, and various rubbish are ritually swept from business entrances and homes to maintain cleanliness. The existing garbage heaps just beyond these entrances are perhaps being ignored from what I can gather. I'm stumped. I am hopeful that education will align these contrasting ways of thinking and increased awareness will allow for reduction, reuse and recycling of the driving plastic storm drowning Cambodia at the moment. 

The power of a smile here is seemingly infinite. Flash a smile and be rewarded with kindness. It has been my belief that kindness often begets kindness. This is undoubtedly true here in Cambodia. Whether it be a warm smile from a perspiring woman standing over a wok or a gummy grin from a local fisherman, the universal gesture of a smile inspires connection and understanding on a beautifully silent level. This absence of verbal language made me reflect on a wonderful excerpt from a book I am reading:

"You don't realize how language actually interferes with communication until you don't have it, how it gets in the way like an over dominant sense. You have to pay much more attention to everything else when you can't understand the words. Once comprehension comes, so much else falls away. You then rely on their words and words aren't always the most reliable thing." -an excerpt from Euphoria by Lily King. Perhaps fluency in body language is the best thing? 

A Cambodian man in his underwear given a snorkel mask and a butter knife is also known as a boat mechanic. 

A family of five crammed onto the seat of one single motorbike is known as a carpool. 

Sharing canned beers and Oreos with a group of older woman on the street corner is always better than draft beers in the bar. 

I imagine my research and the discoveries yet to come will remain in the catalogs of my brain for the rest of ever. A gift. 

Barefoot for Days 

For the last four days I've been completely barefoot, not a shoe or flip flop in sight. My little toes loved it. I was living on a boat motoring through the nine Similan Islands as well as the islands of Koh Bon, Koh Tachi and the underwater playground of Richelieu Rock, all located in the Andaman Sea off of southern Thailand, 8.6525*N, 97.6408*E. 

The island chain and reef lie approximately three hours by boat off the western coast of Thailand and are protected national park lands. I got to scuba dive in their waters while wearing nothing but fins on my feet. There was no staring into a closet of clothes pondering what to wear or debating if my shirt too unacceptably wrinkly to be seen in public. Nope. It was a bathing suit and scuba fins. Easy peasy. The only thing I had to be concerned with was if I remembered to rub sunscreen in my belly button. No one wants a burned belly button and it's so easy to forget. 

World class diving ensued...

My dive guide told us we were at 30 meters depth, whatever that means, and I opened my eyes to a new world. Florescent yellow angel fish swimming this way and that, brilliant blue damsel fish darting uniformly by the hundreds, mustard yellow corral fans propping up different varieties of corrals looking perhaps like they were the inspiration for plush, velvety Christmas ribbon. Swelled, translucent lima bean lookin corals, tall gangly sparkler firecracker look-a-likes sticking out of the sand. Schools of barracuda staring sternly on, sea turtles gnawing on hard coral, clown fish hiding amongst anemone making you want to cuddle up and join them. Sea cucumbers lounging about and lion fish the hybrid of both bird and fish, feathery fins spread wide levitating below. Now imagine the antennae of a moth, like a fine toothed comb, formed into a curling plant, dyed jet black and given silver tipped fingers, suctioned to rock resembling a human brain. What in the world?! I was being constantly dumbstruck, with no possible explanation for the beautiful anomalies before my eyes.  

While underwater I empathized with the Little Mermaid singing of random thing-a-ma-bobbers, whozits and whatzits galore. Me, not knowing the real name of so many species of life, as if knowing the real name would or could possibly give meaning or understanding to the alternative universe in our seas. 

Wildlife traffic and the constant sound of fish chomping on corals, sucking them clean of algae and other nutrients, and then spitting them back out helping to create the fine sand of the sea floor. Scorpion fish blending in so perfectly with the rocks, wrasse, marbled sting rays, goby, parrotfish, puffers, porcupine fish and even white tipped shark, their beady black eyes shifting around hunting for their next prey. All so stunning to see underwater. Fish so blue they are purple opening their mouths so smaller fish can swim in and play dentist with every bit of confidence they won't get swallowed up like poor Pinocchio in the belly of the whale (Surprising and not surprising at all how many Disney references pop up when describing the oddities in the deep ocean blue). Trumpet fish with their long, narrow needle noses slicing through the water independently, no school to be had. Fat groupers posted in the abyss while underneath rock lay moray eels, black and white sea snakes, sea stars and giant clams.  

And then, out in the blue we spot them! Giant manta ray! Soaring, only floating and dipping through leagues of the sea with the greatest of ease. Massive wings propelling them forward as graceful as anything I've ever seen, inspiring a slow, fluid and peaceful feeling inside me. On one particular dive, we spotted four giant mantas dancing amongst the sea with us. Black and white beauties of the deep. I was lost in their presence and in their beings. Enraptured. The only sound the slow, constant suck of oxygen flowing from my tank and the rush of bubbles past my ears. These bubbles rising to the surface, back to 'real life' where they will disappear into the balmy air, no ability to tell the story of the incredible circus of life below them.  

Dear Google Maps,

I have been using your fabulous application to navigate the streets of Thailand. 

First of all I would like to say thank you for allowing me to view my GPS street location when there is no network available and connection is shit. That has saved me from wandering down the wrong Soi or trying to play charades, aka asking directions in English to Thai speaking locals. I still don't understand how it is possible for you to pin point my exact location, including which direction I am facing, from a satellite correspondence orbiting in space. If I make a quarter turn, the little directional arrow rotates 45* right on cue. Seriously?! All the way from space?! That's absolutely amazing! 

Secondly, I have been using 'walking directions' to hop, skip and jump around town and I have been wondering if you take into account a prolonged time of arrival when users are in humid and laid back cities? Take yesterday for example; I woke up and walked to a little cafe set below the shade of a large vining tree for some Thai green tea and a bowl of fresh fruit. My pace on the way there seemed about average, keeping in mind I was wearing flip flops and had to maneuver uneven sidewalks. Oh, and I was slowed by the need to dodge unruly motorbikes who do not believe in traffic regulations. 

While eating, I decided to lay down and read my book simultaneously because why wouldn't I? The nice garden setting provided me with a low lying table, colorful lounging pillows to lie down on and, at no extra charge, brilliantly colored butterflies fluttering about. Afterward, when I pulled

up my next destination using your app and set out on foot I figure I was at a slow saunter at best, knowing I was headed to a two hour massage and had no other agenda. 

There, I eased into a reclined seat for a foot scrub with kaffir lime and then lay down for a coconut oil massage. My body was melting into the table and when she rubbed my head and temples I think I may have been in and out of consciousness so I'm curious how you consider all of these different factors when giving an arrival time? Again, at the end of my rub down, they served me a cup of tea in a small ceramic cup shaped like a baby elephant. A baby elephant! Honestly, how am I supposed to walk, or even move quickly after having sipped tea from an elephant shaped tea cup and matching mini saucer? 

When I left that place to peruse a small, local art studio there was NO WAY I was doing better than a snails pace wreaking havoc on your arrival time proposal. This got me thinking more and now I have a suggestion for you to estimate a more realistic arrival time with your app. Perhaps you can have a check list of things to try and decide if people are on 'laid back strolls' or actually walking, like in serious worker bee locations. The check list can be very short and maybe start with, 'have you drank hot tea out of an elephant shaped tea cup recently?' If the answer is yes, you guys can simply extend the time you propose for arrival.  It's just a suggestion, I don't know if it makes sense but I think my checklist idea could be right on. Warm, balmy temperatures will also slow a walker's pace, so keep that in mind. 

Other than that, I appreciate your app support service and want to tell you, bravo! Strong work!

With gratitude,

Lauren Michelle 

Irish Skin Weather Center:

Sunburn Danger (rated low-moderate-high):

Today's forecast for March 3-LOW

I'm looking good people!! Lots of SPF 50 on yesterday as I trekked about the villages outside Chaing Mai through terraced rice fields and bamboo forests. Reapplied sun block after swimming underneath waterfalls, and amongst little fish that offer free pedicures, eating away all the dead skin. Wore a hat all day.

Stay tuned for ongoing sunburn scale reports from ISWC®

Dream Catcher      

March 1, 2016:

This evening, while talking to a man from Poland about what in the hell a smore is and why it is so delicious, I heard myself saying I had been in Big Sur two weeks ago, creating some delicious smores over a small, yet mighty fire. Two weeks ago?! Could that be true? Just two weeks ago I was hard at work, saying goodbye to all of my clients and families, signing treatment plans, gathering travel sized toiletries, attending awards banquets with my amazing Lincoln team (shoutout to you guys), wrestling with my little man and sitting on hoods of cars watching the stars above. 

Two weeks ago seems like an eternity. It feels like I've been hurtling through time and space and only this evening came to a screeching halt. The hustle and bustle of Bangkok couldn't slow my mind or my body. As I wandered aimlessly about the streets seeking out dim sum and crowded boat schedules, everything was flying by me and I was up in my head thinking. My mind wasn't so much struggling to slow down but more so to quiet itself from thoughts I haven't had a second to think about in months. Six months! It was hard. Pondering and not letting go and pondering some more. 

And then...

Tonight, on the roof top of a small bungalow styled place where I am staying in Chiang Mai, I caught the sunset from a hammock. Above me a dream catcher. For whatever reason that colorful web of yarn woven around sticks, represented the start of something different. Something slower. More grounded. Peaceful. I have finally arrived in Thailand, to this magical adventure in front of me and to the pilgrimage I dreamt up. It's here and it's real. 

The other day, while still in California, I was singing in my car at the top of my lungs imagining the day this would come. The day when I would actually be in Thailand, all the conversations in preparation turned into genuine experience. That day in my car I began to cry. I cried, not because I was sad but because I realized my opportunity. Not just to be able to leave a job I love but to travel the world. Outloud, I was repeating 'life is good'. Life is good. True- Life IS good. 

I am one lucky girl...