Video Scrapbooks

We discovered the video function on our camera about half way through our trip and thought that videos would be a great way to document some of the things we were doing. In order to secure our own memories, as well as to share them, we decided to compile some of our footage into "video scrapbooks." Below are the links to the ones we've made so far! There are a few more to come as soon as we have time, but these days, there's no telling when that might be. So for now...

Zambia
The Olive Branch for Children (Tanzania)
Mikumi- Safari (Tanzania)
Malaysia
Indonesia
Sean playing Sax around the World

"Best of....."

Since we returned home, we've had a lot of people asking us questions like “What was your favorite part of the trip?” or “Which place was did you like the most?” We've found these questions virtually impossible to answer. Each place we visited had it's own wonderful traits, and we enjoyed all of the aspects of the trip for different reasons. Therefore, we've decided to compile a “Best Of” list to share some of the most memorable parts:

Comfiest Couch: Lars'- Copenhagen

Most Colorful Clothing: Tanzania

Nicest Buses: Malaysia

Best Plane Ride: Dubai to Lusaka

Best Instant Coffee: AfriCafe

Funniest “Translation”:

Scariest Drivers: Indonesia

Best Boat Ride: Les Calanques, France

Best Beach: Langkawi, Malaysia

Best Market: Bangkok Weekend Market

Best Christmas Market: Dreieich, Germany

Best Ice Cream: Italy

Best Karaoke: Mr. T's in Pai, Thailand

Best Water Fall: Victoria Falls, Zambia

Best Food Overall: Malaysia

Best Sunset: Chiang Rai, Thailand

Best Beer: Fanø Island, Denmark

Favorite Historical Site: (Sean) John Rylands Library, Manchester (Jenna) The Roman Forum

Favorite Hike: Bukit Lawang, Sumatra

Best Street Art: Sevilla, Spain

Best Street Music: Rome

Best Wildlife: Mikumi National Park, Tanzania

Best Pool: The Imperial- Chiang Rai, Thailand

ขอบคุณเอเชีย (or "Thanks, Asia")

As we prepare for the flight home, we find ourselves in disbelief that our trip is almost over. Travel has been our entire lives for the past nine months, and this final stage of the journey has been no less incredible than the first two. As always, we feel we owe a huge debt of gratitude to all of the people we've met along the way, and who have made our time in Asia so wonderful. One final list of “Thank You's” goes out to:

-Arthur at Cocoa Mews in Penang, for storing our stuff for us and keeping it safe

-The First Aid Team at the beach on Langkawi for tending to my injured foot

-Heppy (a.k.a Happy-Happy) for renting us our first motor bike

-The girl at The Nutmeg Factory for the awesome tour

-Sam and his wonderful staff at Sam's Bungalow in Bukit Lawang

-Our jungle guide in Sumatra—who's name we never could pronounce—for having such a knack for spotting those primates!

-The Batak band on Samosir Island for the fantastic show

-Michael, from Switzerland, for his great company at Sky Bar in Bangkok

-Beth, for being such a wonderful host and friend to us in Pai

-Julie, from Beligium, for keeping us company and sharing her smiles

-Alicia and Sam, for reminding us what it's like to have a “double date”

-Haley and Dave, for reminding us of our mutual hometown

-Noy, Nui, Dustin, Su, Mahelio, Portia, Sandy, Otto, Cindy, Sara, Chenua, Jauquin, Agata, Christin, Lauren and the rest of the gang in Pai for all the great times!

-Mr. T. for hosting us during Song Kran and for some of the best Karaoke this side of the Pacific

-Lek, for teaching us how to cook like real Thais

-Muay, for being our tour guide and our friend in Chiang Rai

-Damaris, Oou, Quan, and the rest of the staff at Khom Loy for all of their help and support

-Paul and Patricia, for their gracious hospitality and for all the fun times (especially at Cat Bar!)

-Lynn and Jane, from Australia, for the laughs and the inspiration to keep traveling

-Mandy, for her warmness and for the thoughtful birthday gift

-Gioia and Amber for their lovely company and good conversation

We are in constant awe of the amazing people we've met throughout our journey. Each of you helped to make our time on this beautiful continent meaningful, memorable and fun. For that, we will forever be grateful. Though the places we've visited this past year have been among the most beautiful we've seen, and each experience unique, it's the human connections that make traveling the incredible experience it is. As we leave the trip behind, we look forward to maintaining many of the new connections that we've made abroad and to nurturing those that we treasure at home. As always, we want to thank our friends and family for their continued love and support throughout the trip, and beyond...

We're coming HOME!  

"Failure"

A few years back, I set a goal: to visit each of the six inhabited continents by the time I turned 25. Today, I come face to face with the fact that I have failed at my goal. Of the six, so far I've only visited four: Europe, Africa, Asia, and my own North America.

Although I must admit my technical failure at having reached this rather ambitious goal, the truth is that I haven't failed at all. I realize now that merely by setting the goal in the first place, I succeeded. Succeeded in committing myself to learning about other places; succeeded in guaranteeing that I would travel more in my first 25 years than most people do in their entire lives.

           

In my effort to see six, I have managed to visit many places on a very respectable four continents. But perhaps more importantly, I've realized just how much there is left to see. I've set foot in precisely 23 different countries around the world—scraping only just the surface of places worth visiting within them—and with each I've become increasingly aware of the far greater number of places that are yet unknown to me.

In my time abroad, I've lived alongside and learned from countless people in other places. I've discovered how to greet people—and how to thank them—in numerous languages other than my first (and yet somehow managed not to master a single one of them). I've tasted more than my fair share of delicious and exotic cuisine, and sampled a few “delicacies” as well. I've watched the sun rise and set across the time zones and hemispheres, and noticed the differences in the waxing and waning of the moon as it's seen from various positions around the globe.

The time I've spent immersed in different cultures has given me the opportunity to realize that when it comes down to it, people everywhere are pretty much the same—we all want the same things—and what differences there are, are superficial and unimportant.

I've also been lucky enough to observe children on each of those four continents—children who are concentrated, engaged, and doing something meaningful, with purpose and attention. I've seen for myself the truth behind Maria Montessori's teachings of the “Universal Child”, the striking similarities which each of our childhoods share, no matter our background or country of origin.

The point of all this? It would appear in my case (and in many other cases, I think) failure isn't failure at all, but rather an opportunity to reflect, re-evaluate, and set new goals. Perhaps it's the biggest goals, the most “unrealistic,” which truly challenge us and push us the furthest. If that's the case, then today I set a new goal: The remaining 173 countries by the time I'm 30. Okay, maybe 40...

Black and White

Art has always been a cornerstone of any modern society.  Since our ancient ancestors first thought up the remarkable idea of painting figures on cave walls, art has been a source of creative release for the artist, and of inspiration for those who appreciate it.  A society's artwork can serve as a kind of mirror on a place, giving insight into its values, fears and hopes.  After all, every artist inevitably draws inspiration from the culture surrounding them.  That is why, as a traveler, it is such a rewarding experience to witness a culture's most-acclaimed art.  Recent tours that Jenna and I took of two famous and highly lauded examples of Thai art gave us a glimpse into this world.

Our first destination was the infamous Ban Si Dum ("Black House," sometimes called the "Black Temple").   This place is the brainchild of a Thai artist named Thawan Duchanee.  It consists of around 40 intricate structures strewn about a large compound.  The buildings vary a bit by design and size, but all are made of a combination of very dark wood, glass, brick and terra cotta.  They serve as galleries for Duchanee's strange and sometimes disturbing works, and are pieces of artwork themselves--beautifully designed and constructed.  

We entered the main hall, a vast space of deep brown timbers.  Long snake skins were laid out on tables as centerpieces.  Animal skulls hung mounted on racks beside the tables, and giant benches dotted the floorspace, boasting long bull horns for legs.

Tall totems of carved wood displayed the frightening visages of monsters and demons.  The poles were reminiscent of Native American totem poles, and I learned later that the artist lives some of the year in California and draws much of his inspiration from American Indian artwork.  The intricacy and attention to detail that the carvings displayed were incredible.

Many of the "pieces" were once living creatures, either killed for the purposes of his art or used after dying of natural causes; I'd like to believe the latter is true.  As an animal lover, I find it hard to stomach the thought of someone killing any living thing in the name of "artistic expression."   

Animal remains and giant snake aside, the place had a very serene quality to it.  It was eery at times, but the large, ornamental structures, gorgeous trees and flowers, and the secluded location made for a very peaceful experience.

After our visit to the Black House, we knew we must make time to see its antithetic brother across town: the Wat Rong Khun ("White Temple)."  A couple of weeks later, we got the chance to see this second wondrously strange place.

Unlike the Black House, which is a secular affair, the White Temple is indeed just that--a Buddhist temple, albeit an incredibly unconventional one.  Designed by Thai artist Chalermchai Kositpipat, the temple, although projected to remain unfinished until 2070, has drawn crowds from around the world since the start of its construction in 1996.

As we approached the temple from the front, we were confronted by a moat encircling the compound. In the water stood an evil-looking serpent statue, whose fixed gaze and gaping mouth shattered my expectations of the White Temple being a place portraying the delights of heaven.  While earlier I described the White Temple as the Black House's antithesis, this isn't exactly true.  Indeed, dark themes were on display here as well, and were perhaps made even more disturbing by the astonishingly bright and heavenly white backdrop of the temple's sparkling, mirror-covered edifice.

Passing over the moat and around the front of the temple, we were stopped in our tracks by a surprising and unlikely statue of the well-known and popular science-fiction monster made famous in the over-the-top 1980's film "Predator."  Past this statue, plaster molds of human heads hung from a nearby tree.  Two heads I recognized as those of Batman and the comic book antihero Hellboy.  Gazing at these alien yet familiar figures, I realized that this temple was going to be as much a comment on the influence of popular culture as it was a recognition of, and testament to, the Buddha.

                                                                     

Approaching the large central bridge that led to the temple's entrance, we came to a pit of writhing, reaching white hands.  Using imagery straight out of Dante's Inferno, Kositpipat has created a striking and frightening portrayal of the underworld.  We crossed the bridge and entered the main temple, and our eyes were drawn at once up and across the walls of the interior.  I'm sorry to say that we were not allowed to take photographs inside.  I hope my description alone will do it justice.

An enormous mural covered every inch of the four walls.  While some of the painting remained unfinished (the scaffolding was still up, and two painters were hard at work), much of the mural was complete.  The face of a giant dragon was the central massive figure of the entrance wall, in opposition to the large image of the Buddha behind the front altar.  Although the earlier pop culture references should have prepared me, I was still surprised to see familiar images from popular media throughout the mural.  Strewn through a nightmarish world of demonic creatures stood iconic images from movies, comic books and music.  Michael Jackson perched mid-chorus on a demon's tail; Elvis sang pacidly into a gaping maw; Neo from "The Matrix" posed in a parody of confidence among chaos.

Besides pop media figures, the artist had much to say of current affairs.  I observed Superman flying with futile determination over a New York skyline filled with plummeting bombs, while one of the Twin Towers burned.  A demon greedily guzzles from a gasoline hose.  An image of Earth from space depicts a giant mushroom cloud blazing on its surface.

These representations of our modern life left little room for doubting Kisitpipat's opinion of the state of world affairs.  He does, however, offer a poignant message of hope in the mural.  As the world burns and demons swirl through a world of distractions, plumes of smoke waft from the nostril's of the massive dragon.  These plumes drift across to the side walls, where they are transformed into "boats," vessels carrying people towards the serene image of the Buddha on the opposite wall.

I could spend a lot of time dissecting and analyzing these images, trying to come up with interpretations and theorize as to the author's intent.  I believe the general message is clear, however, and I'm trying hard not to make this blog dissertation-length...  Suffice it to say that the whole place struck me in a powerful way,  because of it's surrealistic and dark portrayal of modern life, its unconventional use of Buddhist imagery and its implicit message of hope.

All in all, both the Black House and the White Temple were fascinating encounters with modern Thai art, and I am thankful I had the opportunity to see them before the little time we have left here in Thailand comes to an end.

Beginning of the End

Last week we said goodbye to our friends in Pai and headed to Chiang Rai—our base for the remaining month of our trip. Here we are volunteering with an organization called Khom Loy, which runs several different programs that focus on empowerment for Burmese refugees and cultural minorities in the north of Thailand. We'll be working with the Montessori branch of their organization, helping to train teachers, make materials, and set up new classrooms.

Khom Loy Development Foundation "Headquarters"

Sean hard at work in the office

Khom Loy was established in 2002 by an Englishman, Paul Hancock, and his Canadian wife, Patricia. Since then, the organization has grown tremendously. Year after year they continue to expand, making their programs available to more people throughout the region. Since they began, they've managed to convert over 40 traditional classrooms to the Montessori method. They've found that Montessori is a great approach to teaching vital Thai language skills to children from minority groups, thus improving their chances for the future. You can learn more about Khom Loy and their projects by visiting their website, http://khomloy.org/. I would also like to encourage anyone who is interested to check out Khom Loy's Montessori Blog at http://khomloymontessori.blogspot.com/.

When we arrived, we were welcomed warmly by Paul, Patricia, and their staff here at the foundation. All of the employees have been incredibly friendly since our arrival, and are clearly enthusiastic about having us here. On many days they insist on us joining them for lunch at a neighborhood restaurant, or even more kindly, invite us to share in a meal they've prepared—MmMmm! (or in Thai, "aroy mak mak!")

The teachers making materials in the practice classroom

 For this first week, we've mostly just been settling in. Settling into an eight hour work day, settling into our new apartment (complete with the first fridge and wardrobe we've had since we left—hurray!) settling into Chiang Rai. It feels good to be here, and we're excited to see what we can accomplish in the next month.

The Clock Tower in the center of town

A quirky bar on the main street

Blue Iguana

Music at the Night Bazaar

Figuring out what to order... 

Playing music with Paul and Patricia at "Cat Bar"

These beauties are EVERYWHERE! 

The rice fields behind our apartment

I call this one "Contrast Shack"

The Festival of Water

Every year, at the end of the dry season, the Thai people celebrate a most unique holiday. Their New Year's celebration—which is called “Songkran”—lasts anywhere from four to ten days. A long New Years holiday is common throughout Asia, but what makes the Thai New Year unlike any other is the way in which people celebrate. During this time, the entire population (and anyone passing through) participates in a week-long, nation-wide water fight.

Trash cans full of water line the roads from which groups of people continually slosh water over passers-by. Entire families ride around in the backs of trucks, dumping buckets over people indiscriminately. It's not uncommon to see full-grown adults wielding water-pistols, squirting even the most unsuspecting of people without so much as a second thought. It's impossible to set foot out your door without getting completely drenched—which isn't necessarily a bad thing because it's also the hottest time of the year, with temperatures most days easily reaching 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

Gearing up and preparing to go into battle

Though this holiday is certainly among the most bizarre we've experienced, it's roots are far more tame than current practice would lead you to believe. Historically—in fact, exclusively up until recently—people would celebrate Songkran by visiting their relatives, sharing meals and offering one another well wishes for the coming year. During these visits, it was customary for people to rinse clean the shrines in their relatives' yards, and also to pour a small amount of water over the feet of their elders, symbolically washing away the misdeeds of the previous year, and preparing them for the one to come. How exactly things evolved from there to the mandatory participation water wars that punctuate Songkran today, one can only guess. But however it came about, one thing is for certain: everyone celebrates, and everyone gets wet!

Here in Pai, we kicked off the New Year with a party for the kids at the Banyan Center. The first day of Songkran happened to fall on our last day of summer camp, so we invited the families to join us for some “celebrating.” We set up our station at the front gate and threw on our suits. All of our guests received a 'warm welcome' as they approached the school, and before long everyone was feeling cool and refreshed. The kids had a ball flinging cups of water on people as they passed by, and the yard was filled with their squeals and giggles (and maybe a few of ours, too) throughout the afternoon.

Over the next few days, we posted up with friends at various places around town, hanging out, relaxing, and 'preparing' other Pai residents—and occasionally each other—for the New Year. Admittedly, many people don't seem at all pleased about Songkran, or about getting water thrown at them, so we chose the 'friendly plan of attack' and tried not to dump water on people who appeared not to want it, however I can't say the same for everyone else. In fact, many people (Thais and foreigners alike) seem to view the holiday as an opportunity to take out their aggression in the name of “good fun”, and it's undeniable that some people take it too far. Every year throughout Thailand there are a stunning number of deaths related to Songkran, most of them occurring on roads and attributed to wet pavement, an inability to see, or the sheer force of the water causing an accident.

We've found that the best approach to Songkran is to drive slowly, keep all of our electronics safely double bagged, and just surrender ourselves to getting soaked. There's absolutely no point in trying to stay dry when, with every store you pass and every truck that drives by, you're more than likely going to have a bucket of water aimed at you. And make no mistake, we've done our fair share of songkran-ing ourselves! I mean, what's travel about if not participating in what's going on in the culture around you? ;)  

Spelunking

Tham Lod is a large, spectacular, natural limestone cave in Thailand's Mae Hong Son province. It sits nestled in the mountains near the border between Thailand and Burma, about eight kilometers outside of the town of Soppong. The Nam Lang River flows through the cave, the many 'rooms' of which are filled with impressive, ancient stalactites, stalagmites and columns. Last weekend, we were invited to join Beth and her visiting parents for a quick overnight trip to Cave Lodge, an iconic guesthouse which sits only a few hundred meters from the cave's entrance.

Sean an I left Pai Monday morning on our scooter, caravanning with another traveler-friend who we discovered also happened to be headed to Cave Lodge for the night. We planned to meet Beth and her parents—who were on their way up from Bangkok—at the lodge sometime in the afternoon. Soppong is about an hour away from Pai by car, but with the steep, windy roads, and our manually geared scooter, it took us a bit longer to get there. There were even a few points during the drive when our scooter, motor whirring, stopped dead on a hill and refused to go any further. We shared a good chuckle at one point when I was forced to get off and walk while Sean coaxed it up a particularly steep section of road. Our new friend Sam waited patiently at the tops of the hills for us, and the three of us eventually made it to the lodge.

Shortly after we arrived, we spotted another couple walking in who we'd made friends with in Pai. They had caught a bus that morning and were also planning to spend the next few days exploring the area around Soppong (in our experience, serendipity is a ruling factor in Thailand, and this sort of coincidence no longer surprises us). We hung for a while, talking and relaxing in the hammocks at the lodge. When the rest of the group arrived, Beth introduced us to her parents and the close family friends whom they were traveling with. It immediately proved true that 'more' really was 'merrier' as the eight of us we made our way down to the cave.

Tham Lod—also known as Lod Cave or Spirit Cave—was occupied by the Hoabinhian hunting tribe during the prehistoric era from about 9000BC to 5500BC. They were a stone age community of hunters and gatherers who used tools, made ceramics, domesticated plants, and created art—some of which you can still see in the cave.

If you look closely, you can see the faint outline of a deer in this picture taken inside the cave

We hired two guides with lanterns who led us to bamboo rafts which we would use to make our way along the stream and into the cave. Relishing the cool air, we situated ourselves on the rafts and prepared to enter. As we began floating down the stream and into Tham Lod, we noted its huge vaulted ceiling and numerous impressive formations. 

Beth, her parents, Sam, and one of our guides on a bamboo raft.

After a brief ride, the guides pulled our rafts up to a bank within the cave and we disembarked. Following them up several sets of rickety stairs, we explored the first of the caves three major 'rooms'. Each new area we entered was different from the ones before it, and we were continuously awed as we caught sight of the caves various structures.

Some of the rooms even contained a few well preserved teakwood coffins. These coffins, thought to have been carved by the Lawa tribespeople who also inhabited the area, date back thousands of years, and when discovered contained fragments of bone and pottery.

When we returned to the bamboo rafts to make our way to the cave's exit, our guides pointed out the many fish surfacing nearby. We lamented having not purchased the fish food that was for sale at the entrance as we passed by countless absolutely massive catfish and trout on our way down the last section of stream. Even in the dim light of the cave, we could see that most of them were well over sixteen inches long, and some were easily a shocking three feet or more in length (clearly they got plenty to eat and were no worse off for not having been fed by us!)

When we arrived at the exit of the cave, we were able to witness the impressive “Bird and Bat Show” which takes place there every day at dusk. As the sun sets each evening, an estimated half a million birds (swifts, to be precise) return to the cave to roost for the night while at the same time, thousands of resident bats leave the cave, where they've been sleeping all day. Not only do these two winged species harmoniously share the same living space, but they put on quite a show each evening when they trade places (and I presume each morning when they switch back as well, although there was no mention of a morning viewing). 

Feeling completely satisfied with our afternoon adventure, we headed back to Cave Lodge where we enjoyed an easy in-house dinner and the company of our temporary travel companions.

In the morning, Beth led her crew on to explore their next destination (Pai) while Sam, Sean and I decided to stick around for the day and check out another cave. We'd read in the literature at the lodge about “Christmas Cave”, which was a bit further off the beaten path, but still close enough for a day-trip. After getting the scoop from the staff at the lodge, and taking some snap shots of the maps on the wall showing how to find the cave, we set out. We rode our motor bikes up the road a few kilometers, keeping our eyes peeled for the landmarks on the maps. When we thought we might be in the right place, we parked our scooters, and began the hike in. Having recently read about the various kinds of poisonous and non-poisonous snakes of Thailand and their favorite habitats, I insisted we stick to the barely visable path, which did little to ease my mind about the possibility of one of us getting bitten. It was almost unbearably hot as we made our way across the field and up towards the “knob” where the cave entrance was located.

It took us a while to find it, but we eventually spotted what we thought might be the entrance, tucked away at the base of a large cliff. There was a rickety bamboo ladder peaking over the edge of a steep section of rock and leading down to what, from above, merely looked like a shallow overhang that a child might be able to squeeze underneath. With no clear indications that we'd found the right place (and in fact nothing whatsoever to reassure us that going down the ladder was the correct way to enter the cave) we retraced our steps a bit back to the trail, and attempted to search for one of the other two entrances shown on the map. After a few meters though, the trail abruptly ended, and (still wary of snakes) we were forced to either return to the ladder, or abandon our search all together. We decided to at least give it a shot, and Sean held the ladder firmly while Sam and I both climbed down (yes, in that order—no way was I going down first!)

 Once we'd determined that the hole was much larger than it looked from above, and we could, in fact, enter this way, Sean descended as well, the two of us steadying the ladder from the bottom. Now we were spelunking. We were all somewhat off-put when we discovered a second ladder leading the rest of the way to the entrance, but this one turned out to be far easier to navigate than the first.

By stepping carefully down the steep, gravel covered slope we were able to shine our lights into the cave and get a good look at many of it's formations. The columns near the entrance shinned brightly in reflection of our headlamps. Their millions of twinkling white crystals reminded me of a fresh dusting of snow on a sunny morning and, combined with the icicle-esque shape of many of the formations, were no doubt the reason for the cave's wintery name. Bats swooped over head, chattering at us incessantly for disturbing them from their inverted nap. Though we didn't feel comfortable venturing further inside for fear of sliding down the lose-dirt covered incline (or worse, not being able to get up it again) we stood for a while, enjoying our peek into the cavern and conversing about the marvels of caves—places none of us have spent much time visiting before.

After soaking in as much of the cave's cool, underground air as possible, we braved the heat and returned to the trail, making our way down to our scooters and back to the lodge. Dusty and hot, we enjoyed a quick dip in the river before heading back over the pass and 'home' to Pai.