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.