Descent from Bliss

Descending from the mountains on a winding winter road, flying with ambition for new sights, sounds and smells. Breath of green is vivid all around me, life growing from tropic wells. From the wells grows seed and song.

Bamboo stalks shoot from massive clusters, feathery arms grasp for all the light they can. Trees grow in pairs, afraid of life alone, and banana leaves fringe gold in slow decay.

Unknown hides behind drapes of ivy, knowledge given only to explorers, to those with a keen eye and a vibrant heart, well-spoken in the voice of jazz.

Orange fire eye bathes the clouds molten, and through the mouth of the mountains, paints everything in embers.

The song is bright in the sky, I can’t be the only one to hear it. I’ll listen and sing along until another voice rings in. Our harmony will melt the skies, and night will bring the world to sleep smiling.

Sundream Reverie

Furry calico cat on my lap
Groans in sun-drenched sleep
No concerns or cares in the world
State of zen too deep.

The hour of mystic light’s upon us,
As we breathe beneath the trees,
Our souls and vision stir to life
In light shining vehemently

Not until now have we truly lived
Or seen things as they’re meant to be
For in this light that drenches all
Secrets surface before unseen.

Strings of strong silk silver web
Bend graceful and majestically
Insects flutter like stars from home
On the hunt for obscure galaxies

Vines on stone and stripes on wood
Names inscribed in runes
When golden sunlight disappears,
They fade away too soon

For now in hour of mystic light
The truth is unveiled on canvas
What will change when the hour is gone?
Nothing and all, so time passes.

New Years with a Splash of Crazy

I spent New Years with my friend Parker up in Pai, and we had a weekend we were neither expecting, nor will we forget for the rest of our lives. It was a weekend of mixed emotions, a swirling yin yan we were swimming in. We came out alive, unharmed, but we were definitely spinning wildly in the middle and had to fight our way out.

Pai is a small town nestled in the Northern mountains of Thailand. The town is inhabited by hippies and free feeling travelers most of the year, but on holidays it becomes a destination for Thais. The hostels and guest houses filled up weeks beforehand, so it became impossible to find a place to stay. Parker and I, as a last resort, reached out to a couch surfing host for a place to stay, but didn’t get any confirmation so we decided to just go and wing it.

Luckily (or so we thought), the host messaged us the day before saying we could stay, but gave us very little information. When we arrived, we had only a picture and a name of this woman we were showing locals, asking if they knew where she lived. Meanwhile, we looked in every guesthouse we passed for rooms, but they were all fully booked.

Finally, by some random chance, someone recognized her and directed us across a bridge to a bungalow resort she apparently ran. We got there and found her in a state of frenzy, trying to put up tents for the influx of customers, and asked us to help. That’s when we met two other boys who were staying there as well, Kevin and Daniel.

Kevin was a short boy with blonde hair, a big head with a cap always sitting on it, a round, bulbous nose, and doll-sized hands. The kid looked like a cartoon character. He was nice enough, just young and naive. Daniel was taller, my age, with black hair, a British accent, and a kind demeanor. Neither had travelled much, and were only on day three of their trip. They had met at the airport and come up to Pai together. They arrived the day before us.

After we finish setting up the tent we sit down and chat with them. Sarah, the host, comes and sits down, obviously stressed out, and begins venting to us. She talks about how there’s been so much work to do, how her sister is visiting and she’s just using her to work, and then she begins to cry. Parker and I are a little put-off to say the least (who just breaks down and cries in front of strangers?), so after things calm down we ditch the place to get food and enjoy the New Years festivities.

New Years in Thailand is a spectacle to see! The sky was twinkling with thousands of wish lanterns, and flurries of booming fireworks cracked and flashed when the year came to a close and a new one opened. So much cheering, so many sparks, so much laughter and good vibes, I’ll be stoked to witness an event with as much celebration at any other time in my life. It was a pinnacle for sure.

We stayed up partying with these girls we met that night, and dancing at this reggae bar until late in the morning, bringing in the new year right. Everything’s going great, Parker and I both think we’re going to get lucky, then as the night’s coming near the end, we find out the girls we’ve been flirting with all night are lesbian. We were shocked because they didn’t show it much, but at least we made some new friends.

By 4 o’clock we’re tired enough for bed, so we go back to the bungalow place and I claim a couch in the outdoor lobby and Parker found other accommodations. At some point in the night I woke up to movement, and opened my eyes very slightly to see Sarah’s face about a foot away from mine. She was dressed in all white, something poofy on her head, but I didn’t open my eyes enough to see details, or for her to see me open them. I just pretended to be asleep. She came back three times trying to wake me to move into her bungalow, but I just rolled over and mumbled that I was comfy there. Becaaause…

Sarah’s a ladyboy. And a psychotic one at that, we found out. She sounded slightly crazy from her couch surfing profile, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Big mistake. This is when shit gets freaky.

The next day we go about our business. We wake up with little sleep, I go for a run, Parker and I go to breakfast, fall asleep at the cafe lounging in some chairs in the sun, walk up to the big Buddha on the mountain, get massages and grab dinner, all without seeing Sarah.

We come back right when they’re sitting down for dinner, and make conversation with Kevin and Daniel. We find out they haven’t really done anything all day, and last night they just hung out at that place, didn’t go out at all. Kevin and Sarah got “married” in the river, though, and Kevin had slept in his tuxedo by the fire for most of the night before being brought in by Sarah to her bungalow. We made the connection then that Sarah had been wearing a wedding dress when she was leering above me in the night…it’s like something straight out of a horror movie.

Daniel kept saying, “she’s mental, fucking mental. You guys have been good to stay away, but you’re gonna get it now.”

When Sarah came out of the kitchen and sat down, she barely said a word. We kept talking amongst us, and every once in a while would ask her a question, but she’d only give us one word answers, like an immature child who doesn’t know how to express their anger. She was obviously pissed at us, and it was brought to our attention why very soon.

Apparently, she was pissed because we had gone off all day and not hung out with her. She told us we were the worst couch surfers ever, and let all her aggression out on us in a long, drawn-out process. I tried to see her side, but couldn’t. Parker argued with her at first, but when he realized she loved to argue and it would never come to an end, he stopped and we were forced to just listen. She verbally abused us for a good half hour. It was terrible. We felt like we were 12 year olds again.

When she’d finally finished venting we left to get food and didn’t come back for a couple hours. Daniel had left a little before us to get food, and we saw him hurrying back to the resort on our way out.

“Come with us,” we said. “Don’t go back there.”

“No, I have to or else she’ll go mental on me again.”

We didn’t try to persuade him anymore because now we knew what he meant. We wandered for a while, and finally ventured back, not knowing what to expect. We came back to everyone sitting around a campfire drinking. Kevin was obviously very drunk, and nearly incoherent.

Sarah had made a complete 180 and started flirting with Parker. She tried to force us to drink, take shots. Parker accepted one cautiously, taking only from feelings of guilt and obligation, and I just flat out rejected. Sarah kept flirting with Parker, saying if he wanted somewhere to sleep he would have to share her bed and cuddle. Parker played along, but finally got serious when we wanted to go to bed and said no to her request. She ceded and gave us our own bungalow, which we retired to promptly.

Daniel was given the bungalow right next to ours, and he beat us there and locked his door quickly. As we’re getting ready for bed, Kevin stumbles by nervously and asks which bungalow is Daniel’s. He goes quietly into the one we point at, and we think nothing more of it.

Now, seeing as these guys had arrived before us, we weren’t sure what their situation was. We knew Sarah was a ladyboy before we arrived, but they didn’t. We knew they had slept in the same room, but we didn’t know anymore than that. We figured her and Kevin had a thing because she kept calling him “bitch” and joking around with him like that. The truth became apparent quite quickly, though.

I was in the bathroom of the bungalow, which looked kind of like a cellar, telling Parker how lucky he was to have gotten out of that situation. I also remarked, jokingly, that Sarah could easily lock someone in the bathroom to keep as a prisoner. Parker told me he was lucky, sure, but he felt bad knowing that Kevin was going to have to do the deed now.

Then we heard Sarah yelling, “Kevin, Kevin!” And a hard pounding on the bungalow next door. “Kevin, I know you’re in there. Come out right now!”

There was a loud crash and a lot of yelling as Sarah broke down the wooden door and jumped on the two kids inside, pulling them out by force. We realized then that our jokes were becoming reality. She was going to rape this kid who was very drunk, and had gone to hide from her. Parker didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t either, but I knew for certain I couldn’t stand by and watch this happen. I had to do something.

I ran out and followed them down the path towards Sarah’s bungalow. She was threatening to kick them out if Kevin didn’t sleep with her. It was midnight, and she knew every single guesthouse was filled to capacity. There was nowhere for them to go.

Kevin starts pleading, “Fine, Sarah, I’m sorry. I’ll sleep with you, just don’t kick me out.”

That’s when I speak up, “Hey, what’s going on? I thought you guys were going to bed.”

“I was looking for Kevin,” Sarah said. “He told me to give him two minutes and he’d be back, but my worker told me he was wandering in the garden, and I was knocking on Daniel’s door to find him, but no one answered so I broke the door and found them both there. I told Kevin he has to sleep with me because it’s his last night and I’m going to miss him.”

“He obviously doesn’t want to sleep with you. He was hiding from you, for Christ’s sake.”

“Well it’s either sleep with me or they get kicked out. This isn’t your problem, anyway.”

“I’m making it my problem,” I told her. “You can’t just kick them out right now, it’s 12:00. Where are they gonna go?”

“I don’t care. I’ll kick you out too if you keep interfering.”

Daniel had had enough. He said “Fine, fine, we’ll go,” and pulled Kevin with him across the river on the narrow wooden bridge. We watch them cross, Sarah following them slowly, yelling at them to come back, but she stops at the end of the bridge and we think it’s over.

Wrong. Sarah leaps off the bridge at them and punches Kevin in the face, knocking him to the ground. Parker and I run across the bridge barefoot, help Kevin up and push Sarah back.

“Don’t touch me!” she yells at us.

I have Kevin now, walking him back to our bungalow with my arm around his shoulder, while Parker fends off Sarah. I get Kevin inside and he’s so drunk he passed out instantly.

Sarah came back for more, though.
Trying to reason with a crazy person is impossible, I found out, and this bitch was psycho!

She just kept telling us the same story over and over again, saying Kevin had to sleep with her or we’d all get kicked out. At this point, I realized there was absolutely no way I could sleep here anyway, so we said fine, kick us out.

Parker got her to admit she was a crazy bitch, and then she went to call the cops on us on the grounds that we were trespassing. We stuffed our bags, grabbed the kids, and escaped from a back entrance and crossed another bridge. Walking the streets, we saw the cops a few times, but they must not have recognized us from her description.

We met some really nice Thai people closing up their street food carts who were worried for us about finding a place to sleep. This woman drove around for an hour on her motorbike asking for open rooms. She came back dismayed, but offered us a ride to the riverbank where people were camping to sleep for the night.

On our way there another man with a food cart saw we were in trouble and offered us a room at his house. So, with all our backpacks, we get in the metal basket attached to the side of his motorbike, and ride up into the hills outside of town to his house. The man looked kind of like a pirate, with long hair tied back with a bandana, and he spoke very broken English. He had a big heart, though, and thanks to him we had a room to sleep in. Not an ordinary room, though.

We get to his house and he shows us a mattress in this room with walls and a steel roof, but the roof isn’t touching, there’s about a foot and a half of open-air. There’s a king mattress on the ground and fresh blankets, which we’re eager to crawl into. Before he leaves he points to a subwoofer on a table, and mumbles some jumble. He picks up a dead bug off the ground and points at it. Is it a fly? A bee? We ask, playing his game of charades. He nods his head then points at the subwoofer. Oh, bees in the subwoofer.
Yeah, yeah, he nods, then leaves.

I’m glad he told us so we didn’t shit the bed, but waking up that morning was quite a surprise. We woke up to hundreds of bees buzzing around the room. They had a huge hive inside the subwoofer that they would fly in and out of. The pirate man must have been keeping them for honey or something, we weren’t sure. We crawled out of the room dazed, still confused about everything that had happened.

Pirate man woke soon, and after cracking a beer to quench his thirst, drove us back down the mountain into town. We got breakfast with the kids we’d saved from getting raped, got the rest of the story, and went our separate ways.

At the end of this, I can say I wish we had never met these people or that any of this had happened, but that’s not really truthful. A part of me believes we were meant to show up here when we did, if anything so we could save these guys. We were grateful also for the fact that they had shown up first, because we realize it could have easily been us under the full scrutiny of this psychotic person. The moral of the story is always stand up for what you believe in. As humans we have rights that should always be accepted. You never have to do anything you don’t want to do.

I’m not really sure how to end this story, so I’m going to end it the way all stories end in Thailand: then we got a massage. The end.

Gift for a Rainy Day

Today, I left the islands after 3 weeks of magic and memories for the northern part of Thailand. I had to say goodbye to the ocean, the stars, the sand, the perpetual warm air, the temperamental storms, and a beautiful soul.

The change was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I was given so much in the way of feelings and experiences by these powerful islands, it was a sad day to leave. As if to sympathize with me, there were torrential downpours that streaked the sky grey all day. I found this in my journal, and reminisced on a beautiful moment of lucidity. Enjoy:

From up here in the jungle on a rock, the waves crash the crescent shore at every angle from the source. Racing with tails up the slope of sand, glistening their lips with silver lunar zen.

A sheet of chrome ripples colors in metallic panorama–mirror of a mysterious dimension, but familiar when seen with trained eye–open mind for sublime.

Sitting here, two silhouettes holding hands, sharing breath. Smiled on by lunar halo–illuminating scattered patterns in the branches unfolding overhead.

Mandalas in the stars spiraling in cosmic tune, a melody that barely graces the ears, softened some but crystal clear, after traveling millions of years through textured space–through specks of stardust, planets and vortexes spinning lively about, drenched in fountains of gravity and energy.

It’s a wonder we can hear them after passing through such treacherous storms–a gift not taken lightly, but stowed in golden threaded membranes with the most fragile of memories–treasures to unclasp and unwrap when light has bled from the world, heat escaped from the skin, love drained from the heart. A gift for a rainy day.

Inspired by Ko-Phangan

Where ocean and sky touch, a plane expands from my toes to head, vision filled with tranquil waves and wispy clouds. Ten hues of blue meld together, canvas swirling with skillful brushstrokes transforming by the minute.

White-washed rocks guard the boundary of the island, stoic standing against the chatter of the waves. Mountains erupt on all sides of this bay, enveloping us in lushest green. Almost daunted by such beauty pristine.

As the tide trickles out, the bay empties like a basin. Shallow water becomes traversable halfway out. I walk on liquid glass glittering with moon fire, absorbing soft white rays through thirsty pores, hovering higher every second.

The wind and waves and trees dance flowing and deliberately, in sync on layers that transcend time. There’s a secret here they whisper to me, only I can’t remember for the life of me. It feels so familiar, I’m sure I’ve heard it before. When I hear it again, a spark ignites in a cavern of my memory, but the flare diminishes eventually.

The cavern I’m carving, with each sight it grows bigger. I’m making a home for these memories, so I’ll have them forever. Someday I’ll light the cavern and glance upon my treasures that no one can take from me. I’ll only grow richer with time.

Weightless Explorer

Submersed completely beneath the waves,
a higher density thins my veins,
afloat and weightless in thick viscosity,
I levitate with wonder through a stellar universe.

On the islands in the gulf of Thailand, I tried out scuba diving. I tried it and got hooked. It’s a whole different world underwater, predominantly blue, with fish and bubbles and softly textured coral everywhere. Fish swarm around you, unthreatened by your presence, just as curious as you.

The colors in the ocean are incredible too. Light is lost gradually the farther you go down, so to compensate everything wears more vibrant skins. Fish glow blue or are striped with sun-bright bands of yellow, anemone dances like jelly in play-doh skins of purple, green and orange, coral sits peacefully in shapes of bones and brains.

To flip upside-down or spin is effortless, to change the seafloor to sky, and glance at the surface where your bubbles gallop up, to see the sun dancing on the surface, shimmering blue and white in an orchestra of beauty and tranquillity, is a sight that engrained me deeply. The minute I got out of the sea, I craved to be in it once more.

Diving was an experience I couldn’t have imagined. I had no idea what it would be like before I had done it, and now I know. It was a gift to the senses, it re-wired my brain, and now I’ll look at things slightly different. These are the experiences that are most valuable–the ones that settle deep inside you, and you can feel a difference instantly, and you’ll carry it inside you forever.

After my second day of diving I was lying in a hammock on the beach resting. I was trying to decide if I wanted to take the advanced course after completing my open water certification. I drifted to a dreamy plane, and dreamt of floating with the fishes. Then I woke and lay in the sea, and relished in the weightless feeling, basking sun atop the surface. There was no question I wanted to continue diving. So in 4 days I did 9 dives, including a wreck dive, a deep dive, and a night dive. I learned to control my breathing, use my breath to sink and float, and preserve my air to stay under longer. It’s a very cool activity I wish to continue all my life. Too expensive to keep doing now, though.

To dive is to adventure, seeking bright and glowing treasures, not in the form of gems, but in the form of swimming, breathing life. Anemones and nemos, stingrays and moray eels, puffer fish and barracudas, butterfly and batfish, I saw it all. It’s a really cool world down there, open for exploring. Equivalent to outer space–unknown, but available to any curious mind.

This Land of Sleeping Giants

“Kit, what do you see?” Parker asked, pointing to the glowing horizon.
“Colors,” I said. “All of them”
“Is that the happy shake kicking in?”
“Ha, not yet.” I frequently see the full spectrum, from violet to red, displayed in a fading sunset.

I breathe deeply and feel the ocean breathe with me. That, and a gradual roaring buzz in my head tells me perhaps the shake is kicking in.
Sitting on a wooden platform 20 meters up in a crevice of one of the many limestone mountains that define this southern peninsula of Thailand, are 10 of us, all rising on the wave of psychedelic mushroom, banana, and oj shakes made at a local island bar.

We all met deep water soloing that day–epic rock climbing without the safety of ropes. Equipped with only our souls and our shoes, we climbed as high as we dared on the rock before jumping into the safety net of water below. Rock climbing will never feel the same, being unable to simply let go at any moment and be caught by the fluid blue waves. The assurance of a safe landing enables two kinds of mentality: to give up whenever, or to push on as high as you can stomach. I enjoyed it for the latter.

My highest climb brought me to a height of 18 meters above the water, about 55 feet.
The jump was exhilarating, freeing. I kissed the pendent hanging from my neck to remind me of my strength, bore wings and took flight. Air rushed in my face for three seconds of eternity, my stomach lurched two times, then I splashed into the water, into the sea of reality, carrying with me a newfound sense of accomplishment.

This southern part of Thailand is something really amazing. With its white sand beaches, the looming limestone cliffs painted rusty with sand streaks, trees clinging their roots in pockets of sediment, somehow covering the vertical rock completely in some places, endless blue water and hidden lagoons in the mountains, it feels everything like a paradise. The locals, smiling always, quirky in their remarks and personal mannerisms, all seem to share one thing in common: a deep connection to the land.

Our kayak guide, Yoyo, remarked, “Uh-oh, Father is coming,” when a loud crash shook the earth an instant after a bright dragon’s tongue split the sky. The dark storm from the distance, which I’d watched rapidly swallow the closest mountains, had finally reached us. The sky ripped open again and again above us as we raced back to shore, raindrops splashing violently on the ebbing canvas. We buoyed in the expansive conductor bath, holding metal oars, paddling and paddling, hoping the kiss of the six-legged starfish we’d held moments earlier would bring us enough luck to make it back safely.

The guides that took us deep water soloing climbed like they belonged to the rock. We gave one the name spider-monkey, because of his grace and agility, his knowledge of every hold, his ability to climb with no shoes or chalk, and because of his tricks–swinging around a pillar, hanging upside down, with one foot and one hand, then amazingly, just one foot, slotted into hole, arms thrown out to show, then flailing as he let go to join the water headfirst. Big toothy grin, excitement in his eyes, from the climbing, the rock, the height, the jump; this is what he lives for.

A gang of tall Thai Rastas owned a bar and a coffee shop next to each other on this island. Every day I walked past, they yelled,” Coffee coffee!” I laughed every time, imagining that was all they knew how to say. Flashing big smiles, always joking, and bursting with joyful energy, I was happy to give these guys some business. The one who owned the coffee shop told us he was sick yesterday, too much rain, but he felt much better today. In tune with the land, he feels the energy of the weather, sympathizes with it. Luckily, there is much sun to come, as the rainy season is nearing an end. And with it, more tourists.

I watched prices go up on the first of November, because it is suddenly “high-season.” With the influx of tourism, Thailand has, and is, changing immensely. I’ve heard stories everywhere I’ve been: “This place is not the same. There’s more people, more tourists. It feels different.” At first I didn’t understand, but here at Tonsai, I watched it happening. A week before I arrived they had torn down all the bars and restaurants that occupied beach front property to make room for a resort. While I was there everyone was busy constructing their businesses again, relocated deeper in the jungle. Some are worried the secluded climber beach will change because of the resort, others feel confident the nature of the place won’t allow it to change; only time will tell.

The tourism is not bad in all regards, though. It is changing the economy, making it possible for locals to make a dime from the increased traffic, the wealthy vacationers, in diverse ways. They can escape laborious jobs, like tending rice paddies as their ancestors did. The kayaker can make money showing off his limestone coves, the climbers can show off their skills and watch others try, the friendly Rastas can start a coffee shop to share their smiles, and live off it. Everyone wants a piece of the money, and everyone can have some. Hopefully, it will not go too far; hopefully, they’ll know when to stop developing; hopefully, the respect for the land will be stronger than the desire for money: hopefully the land won’t be bled of its power.

It is a magical place here. Sitting on the platform as night begins to unfold, a glowing green rests on the horizon. The shrimp boats all settle in a line, their lights glowing to attract their prey and making a big catch all too easy. The rocky islands out on the ocean begin to take shape. The cliff on the opposite end of our beach looks like a sleeping Buddha, protecting our beach from the harsher elements. Looking out, a cluster of two other islands looks like a sleeping man as well, torso turned to the side, knee bent for comfort. It looks so much like a person, I imagine he could stand up and walk at any time. A storm rolls in and flashes consume the sky. We are protected from the rain by this crevice in the rock, but I can hear the drops dancing outside. As the lightning clouds come closer, the electricity becomes visible, arcs and currents fluttering like afterthoughts on the fringe of the clouds. Then it drips from the lip of the rock above us. I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but another girl saw it too; just barely tangible. Later, walking through the ocean, our feet stir up plankton, which lights up and swims away. This place is swimming with magic. I would hate to see it disappear.

My stay here lasted longer than I intended, but it was worth every minute. I fell under the spell of the sleeping giants surrounding me, and spent my days resting and storing up energy for traveling in the days to come. I hope to find another place that grabs me like this, but right now it’s time to leave. I’ve got some confidence in my pocket, love in my heart, dreams in my head, and the desire for more adventures.

Temple on the Mountain

Ventured through the forest today to a less frequented temple on Doi Suthep, a little outside of Chiang Mai. Called Wat Pha Lat, this temple was recommended to me by a friend who’s studying at the university, and it was one of the coolest things I’ve seen here so far.

I caught a red truck outside the moat of the old city, but for some reason it took me a few tries to find one that would take me all the way down Suthep, where I needed to go. Finally, one guy knew exactly where I wanted and he told me he’d take me there. Unfortunately, he thought I wanted to take another truck up there, not hike through the forest, so he dropped me on the wrong side of the university.

After some debating if the curious family watching me would call any authority, I said fuck it and hopped the gate into the university and resumed my quest to the trailhead. About 20 minutes later I reached the other end of campus, walked down a few side streets, and found an entryway into the forest marked by orange monk robes hugging trees.

Mid-afternoon, I was sweating already before I entered the forest, and by the time I finished my climb, I was drenched. It was a beautiful hike, and the sounds of the city really dissipated as soon as I entered, but I had to keep moving to evade the swarm of mosquitoes that congealed immediately every time I slowed. Still, I managed to snap a few pictures.

The robes lined the whole path, guiding me and eluding to the sacred site I was venturing to, but gave me no insight to just how powerful the place was.

There was a small creek I could see briefly on my left for some of the way, but then a louder cascade glanced my ears from the right, and then suddenly the forest opened up. I was greeted by this.

I had a chance to marvel for just a second at what was staring at me, then a gong sounded loudly in my left ear. I started and turned and saw a young Thai couple sitting on a platform next to me behind a big silver bell. They smiled at me, whether seeing my shock or just greeting me I’m not sure, but it was a wonderful welcoming to the temple. They then turned and paid their tributes to the majestic Buddha overlooking the mountain, and below, Chiang Mai.

The temple, built on a waterfall, has a fantastic view of the city, but is remote enough you escape the pollution of both scent and sound.
>

The gentle cascade of the flowing water is the only sound you can hear, and so few people seem to go there you really feel quite isolated. It makes for quite a magical setting.

There was so much to look at, I kind of just wandered in awe, coming across each new thing trying to comprehend it. I saw nearly every Buddhist symbol I could think of, all of which seemed to be protecting the place. It felt like the safest place in the world. I took a bunch of pictures, but still it only gives a taste of what this place felt like.

I wandered down this set of stairs, guarded by bodhisattvas on both sides the whole way, to this patio right next to the river, overlooking the great green forest above and below. There was an insignia inlaid and painted on the ground which felt sacred. It was guarded by two giant dog lions (not sure what they’re called), and felt safe, so safe. This was where I sat and meditated for 40 minutes.

I felt during this time a low, vibrating energy, a note infinitely tranquil, which this temple was built upon, and will continue to resonate until the end of time. The water splashing vibrantly next to me was soothing, and when I looked to the open space in front and above me, I saw hundreds of dragonflies hovering gracefully about, keeping the air free of mosquitoes. I was enchanted, grateful for all of it. The trees rising above the rest of the forest were covered completely with broad leafed ivy, and seemed to hold gargantuan sleeping beasts, ready to wake on a moment’s notice to defend this sacred temple. If you look closely, you might see a couple elephant/Ganesh looking trees, and a reaper and another person to the right of them.

I stayed at this temple for a couple hours, and it felt like no time at all. There was so much to look at, and it filled me with such a sense of calm, I’d really like to go back. Here’s a few more things.

And last, but not least, a few of my favorite shots:

^mini-buddha

^sleeping cat

And the last sight I saw on the way back down:

One week in

Been in Thailand for one week now, and I’m enjoying it quite well. I’ve walked into a tiger cage, fed an elephant, seen a few different waterfalls, driven a motorbike into the mountains on one of the windiest roads in the world, walked the night market, explored the jungle, slept in my hammock outside a bungalow next to the river at Pai, seen a million temples and images of bodhisattvas, attended the lady-boy cabaret, and ate at a Thai barbecue.

Out of everything I’ve seen, I’d say my favorites have been involving wild nature (not surprisingly). I knew coming over here the scenery would be so unlike anything I’ve seen in my life, and it’s held to be true. With one more week in Chiang Mai, I’m planning on getting out of the city as much as I can to the surrounding areas. The wilderness here is so inspiring–thousands of plants I’ve never seen before, trees winding and swooping and arcing in anyway they see fit, beauty of the arabesque, tangents of limbs spreading from a single source, beautiful symphonies of hidden birds high in the treetops, hidden monk villages and stone steps in the heart of the jungle, colorful berries in spiny catacomb shells.

The city is interesting, but I find myself yearning to get out. Too cluttered, shitty graffiti, shoddy sidewalks, black clouds of air spitting from every passing car and motorbike, fragrances of trash seep into my nose randomly as I walk, plus there are dogs wandering everywhere, worried I’m going to get bit.

A cool thing happened I wasn’t quite expecting. Made a group of friends in the hostel we were staying at because we all decided to drive up to Pai together, and stuck with each other for a few days, enjoying each other’s company and the safety of a group. Did a lot of cool stuff with them, earned a lot, got comfortable, and was sad when I had to say goodbye. All from different countries too, it was pretty cool we could connect as well as we did. Goes to show how similar people are, regardless of where we come from.

Here are some of my favorite pictures so far.

Start of the adventure

I made it to Thailand yesterday for the start of an adventure I’ve been craving for a long time now.

The beginning was a little unconventional–the lady at the airport wouldn’t let me go without a ticket out of Thailand before my temporary visa expired for fear they wouldn’t let me into the country, so I had to hop over the baggage counter and buy a ticket 20 minutes before boarding the plane. Had to sprint to my gate, but I made it and the rest has been smooth from there.

Arrived at a hostel a little before noon, and was hanging around while everyone started waking up. I got invited by one of the hostel managers, this really chill British dude, to go to the “Great Lake” in this national park nearby. A group of us hopped in the back of his truck that he’d fitted out with benches and a metal casing so it was like a taxi, and we rode to the hills about 20 min away.

This is where we pulled up:

We claimed one of the platforms and a Thai lady brought a menu to us. Adam turns out to be pretty good at speaking Thai from living here for four years and picking it up from his girlfriend, so he just ordered a bunch of food and we all feasted.

There was soup, salad, chicken, and fish. Real authentic Thai food, made right there at the lake, it was delicious. The salad was supposed to be not spicy, but I bit something twice that caught my mouth on fire!
Look at the tilapia:

We rented inner tubes then and floated out in the lake. Everyone here is really nice and just traveling the world, trying to experience everything they can. I fit right in.

This was such a cool way to spend my first afternoon in Thailand. Lying back on my inner the lake, looking up at the hills surrounding us, hearing Thais laughing and singing, hanging out just like we were, I realized this place is not so different from home.

In a lot of ways it is–the food, the stores, the architecture, the culture–but I had this notion that traveling here I would be in a totally strange world. I find myself in a world though where people are all connected by a lot more than we think.

Going out with some locals that work for the hostel, as well as two friends I made from Holland and Sydney, we went to two different reggae bars where bands were playing Bob Marley and such, as well as a club that played booming, electro dance music, and I found myself laughing at how comfortable I felt there.

I’ve got a lot more exploring ahead of me, to find the new and experience the culture as best I can, but I know I’ll continue to see just as many similarities as novelties, and I’m looking forward to experiencing both.