La Nica Navidad

Christmas celebrations are already in full swing in Granada! The neighbors have been setting off fireworks all day and night in the street since before I arrived, and there seems to be no end in sight. December is filled with preparations and processions, and most of the celebrated images are not of Jesus or Santa Claus, but of the Virgin Mary, whose statue has been paraded up and down every street in town. Her image is everywhere, and there it will remain until December 24th, That's the day that Christmas happens here. The 25th is just another day.

I'm sure being away from New York for the first time will make me a little homesick, but I'm looking forward to seeing all the holiday fanfare from a different cultural perspective. I only wish I had more room in my suitcase for the Santa piñatas they've been selling in the central square!

100th Post!

I'm a psychic, y'all! Over the weekend, I sat myself down in a coffee shop (which also happens to be my favorite pitaya/chia pudding/smoothie bowl establishment) and did a little updating on some old blog posts to optimize them for search engines and some other fancy internet business. As I was scrolling through the list I thought, "Hm... I wonder how many times I have posted. Has it been 100 times? Or will the 100th time be coming up soon?" And wouldn't you know it, the very next post was to be the 100th post! There are some wild forces at work in this world.

So this is it. #100! Thank you for reading, liking, and sharing. And for being the people offering love and support every day. I'm happy to be existing on this planet with you.

Oh yeah, and I made a coloring book. You can check it out here: http://amzn.to/2CtI89h

City Strolls

Sometimes when you're traveling alone in another country, it's tricky to know where to go and when. You'll hear conflicting reviews from all around. You'll find a recommended attraction and some will tell you never to go anywhere by yourself; you'll surely get robbed and murdered. Others laugh at you and wonder why you would even question going there in the first place; it's perfectly fine!

I've taken baby steps in walking everywhere I can around here. And it's turned out that all the places I've wanted to see have been worthwhile and safe. I've walked to the abandoned Old Hospital and the nearby train station. Since the houses are so colorful and the city is a manageable size, it's a usually a pleasure to stroll around anywhere you can. You might even find goats and horses grazing on a regular old jaunt to the grocery store.

Of course, I am careful and I stick to the well-traveled areas when it gets dark. But it seems that it's easy to explore most of Granada's main attractions on foot (or boat), and the most dangerous part is being in direct sunlight at mid-day. Of course, there are always taxis or horse-drawn carriages that will take you anywhere you don't feel comfortable walking.

La Boca del Infierno

I arrive to meet the group at the tourism office at 4:30pm, and we drive towards the volcano. The gate opens every night at six. Until then, we'll wait in a long line of cars outside the entrance. The convenience store outside our truck sells beer, juice, chips, and one Snickers bar. I sit on the curb to sip a Toña and watch as the sky turns from blue to pink. Eventually the cars begin to roll forward, and our guide delivers a lesson about explorers, craters, and other volcanoes in the area. I'm only half listening. I'll end up remembering that in this part of Nicaragua there is a salamander with zero pigmentation in its skin and a shark that can hold two months worth of salt water inside its body while it heads off to live in fresh water for some time. It strikes me as alarming that Spanish explorers were more interested in searching for gold than in discovering stuff like this. They must not have known about the salamanders.

We arrive at the volcano's museum and our eager guide walks us around, pointing out paintings of animals and telling us where each one is likely to be found. I see a group of live bats fluttering above us and hanging from the ceiling, but the guide ushers us through the man-made replica of a lava tunnel and leads us to more animal paintings instead. He translates their names into English for me, although I don't need him to. He tells me he's studied English since he was 15 when he set his mind to mastering it. Now he's 24 and he can understand anyone and talk about anything because he constantly improves upon his vocabulary and pronunciation. Outside, he shows me a tree of “almendras-- almonds” and tells me that they grow inside of a fruit that encases them, like a “cáscara-- a sheel.”

We make a stop at the museum's mirador. Our guide points out past the lagoon toward the horizon and tells us that just outside of the glowing city of Masaya lies Coyotepe Fortress, which marks the spot of an underground prison left over from the years of the Samoza dictatorship. The prison, a prime location for torturing political prisoners during the late 20th century, is submerged beneath the earth.

When the prison was active, very little light was allowed into the cells and connecting tunnels, ensuring that prisoners wouldn't be able to tell what time of day it was.

“Otra forma de tortura,” our guide explains.

To solicit information about the rebels' efforts, the guards inserted electric rods underneath the fingernails on their victims.

“Otra forma de tortura,” he adds.

And the cells were never cleaned. Often, when a prisoner died, the guards left the body until it decomposed on its own.

“Otra forma de tortura.”

He says it this time with the same tone as the two times before it, as if being left to go on living in the same room as a dead person carries the same weight as not knowing the time or receiving a piercing shock under your fingernails. I can't tell whether it's night or day, and also there is a man who used to be alive lying next to me with his face half eaten by maggots.

My yoga teacher had this lesson he would teach every now and then about the power of the conjunctions we choose in daily speech. When we use “but”, we automatically create a hierarchy or insinuate emotion. We imply that one clause holds a certain sway above the other. It is raining, but I am having a good day. We have already judged the rain. It is clearly something we have had to overcome. Not a gift. Not the bringer of life, but a burden to bear. When we use “and” instead, we remove much of the reaction from the equation. I stepped in a puddle, and I am going to get a sandwich. How do you feel about stepping in the puddle? Did it add a grumpy trudge to the rest of your walk? Or was it the joyous splash of a child? And the sandwich, is that a food common to your diet? Will you enjoy it? With “and”, we have simply delivered the facts.

I can't tell how long I've been in here, and there is a dead body rotting next to me. Actually, using “but” in this case might have recognized a valid blessing, a saving grace. If you have a general idea of about how long it takes a body to decompose under the earth (8 to 12 years), this might prove revelatory in your development of a timeframe. I can't tell whether it's day or night, and they're going to stab at my sensitive under nails with shocking needles, but there's a dead body here next to me. What luck.

We walk solemnly back to the van. The sky above is dark, and the city lights glimmer down below us. We complete our short drive to the edge of the volcanic crater. We step out of the van to see crimson smoke plumes rising over a bright orange glow. We take out our cameras or phones and try to find the right setting and filter to translate these images to our families and friends back home. If only they could see us now. We're all standing in the same line, taking the same photos.

The real stories are below us.

Ring of Fire

Most of the time, the overlook points at Mombacho Volcano provide some of the best views of the city of Granada from high above. On the day I went, everything looked like this:

One of the many perks of working for the hotel is that when guests go on excursions, I can join and pay less than it would normally cost since I become part of a bigger group. Sadly, this meant going to the prettiest one on the rainiest day, but all the lush greenery in the cloud forest was still a sight to see.

On another day, we visited the more active Masaya Volcano, where you can drive up to the top at night and check out the red lava bubbling inside the crater. I've never seen glowing lava before, so that was a unique experience. Plus, there were a lot of bats flying around inside the museum and outside around the volcano, and you know we like those. 

Workouts Worldwide

I don't know about this. What do y'all think? I alternate back and forth between telling myself that exercising at a gym is silly and pointless to wondering how on earth I would be alive without free weights and a treadmill. I joined the one here because they have yoga classes, there's a tortoise named Snoopi, and they sell a 10 meal pass for $35. I don't think I would have joined if this were a regular month, but I didn't work out at all in Southeast Asia, and there's been a hefty amount of noodles and rice on these menus.

I usually like to run in the streets to see things and take pictures, but this would have to happen at 5:30am here to take advantage of the cooler weather and make it in time to teach the morning class. And who knows what the catcalling population would have to say about lady parts bouncing around in (gasp) yoga pants and a tank top. Running is not a big part of the culture in Nicaragua.

I tried doing one minute sets of pushups, ab stuff, squats, and leg activities in my room, but I don't really like working out as soon as I roll out of bed in the morning or right before bed, and other times leave too loose a schedule to actually commit to it. Excuses always abound for me and the at-home workout. Plus, using weights usually equals less work for more rewards. So to the gym it is.

There's a chance, too, that it will be a good place to socialize since the other night Danilo's friend introduced me to her daughter by saying, “This is Corinne, the yoga instructor. She has no friends, doesn't know anyone, and has to eat every meal alone.” I thought I was doing okay, but with any luck, my new workout pals will help me surpass her description of me.

Houses & Homes

The colonial-style houses here hold secrets. From the outside, they are as attractive and colorful as a box of crayons, but size-wise they don't look like much. Walking past the exterior, you'd never know what was inside. In our house, for example, you enter the front door and walk into an open air living room, kitchen, and sitting area, all of which surround a green courtyard, filled with plants, blue sky, a fountain, and some cats lazing in the sun. There are four bedrooms, and an indoor/outdoor pool, but you'd never know it from the outside. Other houses on the street hold even more members of the family. You can tell because at night they ditch the shady common areas and hang out on the sidewalks outside their front doors. Family time and ties are essential here.

I'm glad to be staying with the hotel owner, Eloisa, and her boyfriend, Danilo, so I can enjoy a peek into what Nicaraguan life is like (for the financially well-off, at least). I've always found trips where I stayed with a host family to be a little more special than backpacking through hostels, even though each method can be rewarding in its own way.

When I was interviewing for the job, Eloisa kept warning how hot it is here. I can assure you that she's never been to Texas in the summer. It's really only hot hot here at midday. The morning brings a refreshing breeze that blows through the outdoor yoga shala at the hotel and everything chills back out by 4pm. In the meantime, there's plenty of shade and no shortage of places to keep cool.

The shower is cold, shocking, and handheld but it's a nice way to lower your temperature before bedtime. There's no A/C anywhere, so I may have to give up my granola crunching stance against anti-perspirant, but for now, I'll just be slathering myself in essential oils and making sure no one comes too close.

Globetrotting Goals

In case you did not already assume this, being an international yoga instructor at a boutique hotel is actually not very much work. I teach a group class every morning and some days at night, check people in at the front desk sometimes, and make myself available in case someone wants to schedule a private class in the afternoon. Since I enjoy teaching yoga, and would usually be doing it anyway, none of this feels like work at all. And in a small city like Granada where everything is a few blocks away, my schedule leaves a lot of time for relaxing and taking a break from it all.

This is wonderful. The scenery is incredible. The lack of a huge tourist population makes everything very peaceful. On the other hand, for me, there is not a very big “all” from which I am supposed to be taking a break. It would be very easy to spend days here reading entire books, taking naps in hammocks, and lounging around swimming pools. That is nice. Very nice. However, my normal life right now is one big abyss of relaxing solitude and, despite the niceness, I don't want to look back on a whole month remembering that all I did was nap and lounge. So, in true former corporate slave fashion, I have set some loose goals for myself (only three!) for the trip and here they are, en español:

1. Crear: This has been one of the themes of this whole year for me. I've been pushing to explore creative pursuits instead of putting them off and wishing upon a star that I get around to them someday. Someday is here, and, fortunately, for such a little city, Granada has a robust art scene with a surprising number of art galleries. Apart from that, the houses and buildings are so colorful that one doesn't have to look far for inspiration. I packed some paints and brushes, and this Central American world is my canvas.

2. Hablar: One helpful skill that I've acquired in this lifetime is the ability to speak Spanish. If we're talking about where I'm from, or my family, or ordering at a restaurant, local people are usually surprised that I can speak it so well. At this point, they should be more surprised at the hesitation I feel about speaking it candidly and the number of stumbles and roadblocks that come up in more meaningful conversations. I have seventeen years of experience and a Master's degree for goodness' sake. On this trip, I'm trying to delve a little further than my heavily chartered territory, and make a focused effort not to shy away from longer conversations.

3. Sentar: The third goal is really a tricky anti-goal. Besides the constant drive toward self-improvement that is probably a shadow from my next decade looming on the horizon, I would like to be a part of the slower-paced life that the people here are living. They're sitting outside on their patios, spending time with family, and strolling through the streets to meet up after dark. After four days of this, I can already feel myself wanting to join a gym, schedule excursions, go for a jog, take classes, try every cafe, visit every art gallery, etc. etc. I'm trying to remember that all this doing isn't always the most rewarding thing, and that the most memorable outings usually are not on the checklist.

Tierra Soñada

Hey ladies, if you are looking for a confidence booster where you walk out of the house and all the men in a city remark upon your beauty and profess their love to you, look no further than here in Granada, Nicaragua. If you are not looking for that, you might find it off-putting, but, chances are, you will probably like this place anyway.

I'm surprised they've even noticed me; there's plenty of other beautiful stuff around here.

So far, nearly everything has wildly exceeding my expectations. I finally felt like I made it when there was a private driver holding a sign with my name on it as soon as I stepped out of the airport. He pressed himself right against the glass door, which was good because coming out of the airport is when I am looking most gringa and like I don't know where the F I'm going, and when I am feeling most afraid of being thrown in the back of a truck and sex-trafficked. I don't know the first thing about actual sex trafficking, but I can only assume it is happening all the time to blue-eyed girls in foreign nations, based purely on the number of strangers who approach me to tell me to be careful and not to be too trusting of strangers.

The hotel owner (and my boss) is most helpful and very sweet. There's a house and a hotel, two pools, good food, good yoga, and cheap living. We're only on day two, but I think I'm going to enjoy myself here.

The System

Ten minutes past security and I've already lost the tag for my checked luggage. Where has it gone? Probably fallen off onto the TSA conveyor belt. This is fine. I lose things. Only if they are not part of The System. My system. Where all the items that come on these trips have a place. I'm familiar with the place and know exactly where to go to summon each item at need. But this time I'm carrying a new backpack, and The System and placements have shifted slightly. I am expecting some losses, especially after spending a rushed morning realizing I needed to visit the ATM before dropping my car off in its spot, the extra spot at Andy's house.

I took out $200 and wondered if I should spread it out around my pockets in case of a robbery in the Third World. I ultimately decided not to, since, somewhere along the way, I came to reason that anything below $200 is Not That Big of a Deal, whereas spending or losing anywhere above $200 would qualify as a Very Big Deal. I am unsure where I gathered this logic since you would think that spending or losing any amount of money would be at least a Pretty Big Deal to someone without a steady job or a plan. But, nevertheless, it's all there, in my wallet, inside my backpack, and we are headed down to the Third World.

Maybe the Second World is really the plane that takes us from our world to theirs. It's not so often that it occurs the other way around. We go there to take and see, or to stay and give and feel like we are doing something to assuage the guilt of our having laid waste to their land and their economy. I used to be one of ones who desired to help, to make a difference, to be a face of America (the one and only) abroad. And now, what has changed? I no longer want the face that says, “Look at me. I'm OK! Everything that I represent must not be so bad! I am kind. I've brought gifts. And my language!-- you can only imagine the doors that would open if I were to teach it to you! Sure, I'm a little different than most of my people. I'm young! I've got time to be here. And you can bet that my parents are footing the bill. They're at work being normal so I can be here. A volunteer. One of the special ones. Here to show you what it's like to have what we have, how much better it would be to live the way we live.”

And then I might realize that, beyond the supplies, this may not be helping you at all. I've brought my kindness here, but you already knew about that. We could talk about family planning, but it seems the bonds in yours are stronger than mine at home. I can show you about business, but it's our business. It'd be ignorant to assume you don't have your own. I know a little bit about health and fitness. I can bring you medicines so someday you'll be well and strong. And for what? To live a long life and improve your society until it becomes an efficient and stable part of The System. Our system, where all the parts have a place, and we are familiar with the place and know exactly where to go to summon each item at need.

This time around, I think I'll just worry about what's in my backpack.

Centered in America

Two weeks ago, for a brief time, I came home. To three-fourths of my homes, in fact. In New York, my dad kindly let me fall asleep on the couch at 6pm before dinner, and woke me up so that I wouldn't miss his homemade apple pie. In Austin, the first time, Caroline had a birthday, and we danced for a night into the day. In Savannah, my mom took me to lunch and then to yoga class, even though she just had shoulder surgery and had to wait for an hour in the lobby reading books on her iPhone, which was enough to remind me that I'm too selfish to have kids anytime soon if you've got to be in for 30 years of this mothering business. In Austin, the second time, we looked at art, drank a bunch of beer, and touched noses with a curious llama. It sure was nice to be everywhere.

Then I wrote this in my journal:

Today, strangely enough, I woke up wondering where I was. For a brief moment, uncertainty. But, as it happens, in an instant the scene filled in around me. Clues. The earth-toned sheets and bedspread. The window to my right, covered in blankets and tapestries like in an overgrown dorm room. A way to save money, or to express a defiant lack of commitment to the space. A jolt of confusion at a sound. Why is my alarm going off? Is it mine, for sure? It is. Oh. Flight check-in. A reminder that in 24 hours I'll be leaving again. International. A roundabout flight, or three. Enough to show that all airports have Starbucks' and people going places. Anyway, we're all checked in. A lump on my chest. The packing, not yet started. Imagining those who have planned ahead and laid out everything a week in advance. Oh well. They were probably not also traveling last week and the week before. December. Here she comes. And we've been going, moving since October. 3 months, maybe, of total movement. It's not so much, considering. Am I growing? Am I changing? Or is this resisting? Escaping? Removing myself from the hurry of the world so while it changes I remain the same.

And here's a good old-fashioned Texan sunset:

Swinging through Singapore

I was glad to have two days leftover in Singapore at the end of the trip, even though originally I had been told that I wouldn't need much time in this city. I really felt that there was a lot to do, and every day of my visit there was filled with activities.

I did spend almost the entirety of those extra days being a serious tourist. I drank a Singapore Sling and went to the top of the boat hotel, since I found myself over there at sunset and couldn't resist. The views did not disappoint.

And from passing the duty free shop in the Bali airport, to the Gardens by the Bay in Singapore, the world around me had turned into Christmas.

A Silent Stay

While in Bali, I had the chance to fulfill an interest that has been sparking my curiosity for a long time by spending a night at a silent retreat. While I don't think I stayed quite long enough to fully experience the plentiful benefits of time spent in silence, the retreat center provided a brief glimpse of all that can be gained from being alone with yourself in such a peaceful place.

Before my arrival, I was nervous. I had received recommendations, but I didn't think I would have enough time to go since I was (very sadly) only in Bali for four days and the retreat center is about an hour and a half outside of Ubud. Then it just so happened that I ended up with a free night and didn't have anywhere else scheduled to stay so I checked for openings and, after finding a few, made a reservation.

I wasn't sure when the silence would start. Would the van driver talk to me after picking me up? Would reception just hand me a bag and a list of instructions? How would I make travel arrangements to come back to the next day? All my concerns abated when I arrived to find the most cheerful and talkative Balinese woman waiting to check me in and show me around. The reception hut was an open talking zone, and she still toured me around the grounds in whispers after we had passed the white flags that started the zone of silence on the property.

My first surprise was at how much there was to do. There were five hours of guided yoga and meditation classes offered each day-- 2.5 in the morning and another 2.5 at night. Around the retreat center there were also many opportunities for more solitary mediation which could take place under a waterfall, in a labyrinth walking maze, or on a jungle trek through the woods. There was full library in the lounge and three mealtimes provided tasty, vegetarian, and organic buffets. There were lectures on green living, and frequent field trips where you could talk to the other guests. It was a light and delicious introduction to the more serious vipassana or ashram experience.

The second surprise was that dinner was set out between 4:30 and 6pm, right after the afternoon round of yoga and meditation. On the first day, I had to do some extra fast-paced jungle trekking to be ready for a meal at that time, but it helped to get into the habit of eating less and resisting the urge to try everything on the table... for the most part. It was a little uncomfortable to be around the other visitors without greeting anyone, but most people shared smiles and held doors for each other. Some even broke the rules a bit to mouth a "thank you".

The final surprise helped make sense of why dinner was so early. Since the retreat center runs efficiently on solar power, the lights in the main buildings turn off around 7, and most of my dorm mates were turning off their bed lamps to go to sleep at 8. It's a wonder how quickly our bodies adapt to the rhythm of nature when we don't have electronics to disrupt or entertain. I lay awake that night for a while listening to all the sounds outside, but eventually fell asleep feeling blessed to be in such a beautiful place.

Many Monkeys

Ever since the time, thirteen years ago, when my mom got married in Bali and went to a monkey forest without me, her monkey loving daughter, I knew that someday I would need to make my own journey to Bali to visit that same monkey sanctuary.

And let me tell you, it was worth the wait.

Within one minute of walking through the dark tunnel into the forest, I had a small monkey on my shoulders. Later on, another one got stuck in my hair. It was a little unsettling, which I guess makes some people dislike their visits there. And if you are one of those people, I will say that we have certain disagreements in our tastes.

Seeing all these monkeys was one of the best time of my life!

Utopia in Ubud

After Bangkok, I Julia Robertsed my way into Indonesia and found that life in Bali is a life worth living. You're pretty much welcome to do what you want, if what you want is going to the beach or the jungle, hanging out with monkeys or riding a scooter to a waterfall, sitting by the pool, eating tropical fruits and soaking at the spa, or climbing up a volcano, or just doing magnificent yoga all day. If you don't like any of these things, I am not sure what we are going to do if we ever hang out.

The Yoga Barn has one million yoga classes, a delicious cafe, a hotel and a spa, so I stayed there a lot of the time. I also stayed at the pool of the Green Bird Villa hotel where they fed me banana pancakes in the mornings. My friends drove me around on motor bikes to places with tribal drumming and cafes with fire pole slides. I got a two hour massage with flower bath for $13.

Consider this self treated.

And the monkeys... I will tell you more about the monkeys soon.

Breezing through Bangkok

I went to Bangkok for two days, and all I did was wear a skirt with sneakers and spill mango juice on my respectful temple shawl.

I did also enjoy drinking Chang beer and riding river boats.

Thailand Takeaways

It's strange the way you meet people when you travel. You could be bouncing along completely fine on your own, then you make a friend for a couple of days before parting ways, and you end up wondering how you ever got on without them. That's how I wound up sitting on a balcony in Chiang Mai, talking with my new friend Drew about life and the illusion that anything is worth worrying about other than this moment right here and now. We had met on the yoga retreat and reunited in the city due to an affinity for whole wheat croissants, and the shared human sensation of knowing someone in one location and reconnecting with them later on in a new place.

Like many others on a mission to trot around the world, we wanted to hold onto the travel high forever, and we wondered at our abilities to do this long-term—physically, emotionally, and financially. It seemed like we both had an inkling that, at some point or another, we'd wind up back home in the states with some time to kill before the next adventure. And, contemplative as we are, we knew that the truly awakened are able to find satisfaction anywhere on earth, doing anything that might be required of them.

It's easy to keep an enlightened perspective when all you have to do is attend led yoga sessions, scribble down a daily journal entry, and maybe book a <$10 hostel for the next few nights. I was pondering ways that I could bring this feeling with me back home. What did I most want to take away from this experience that would bring me joy in the (likely) less eventful days to come? I loved the freedom of being in Chiang Mai for an extended duration, so that I could take my time and wander without a set destination. I'd walk or bike ride for hours, and stumble upon green patios and smoothie bowl cafes where I could sit and read a book or jot down thoughts, like these...

Thailand Takeaways:

1. The non-routine
2. Patio gardens
3. Backyard gardens
4. Anywhere gardens
5. After dinner walks
6. Motorbikes (?)
7. Coconut everything
8. Friends everywhere
9. Knowing your neighbors
10. Saying yes

Oh, and I also took away a little tattoo.

Yi Peng Lantern Festival

My new lifestyle of spontaneous travel kind of backfired when I tried to book last-minute on a train from Chiang Mai to Bangkok during the Yi Peng lantern festival. I had planned on staying for the biggest night of the festival, and then booking a sleeper car the next night to Bangkok. However, when I showed up at the travel agency one day early, I was told that all the night trains were booked for the next three nights, and all the trains in general were booked for Sunday and Monday after the festival ended. Luckily, there were a few tickets left on a 10 hour Saturday daytime train that would still let me enjoy the night when most of the lanterns are released, and get me to Bangkok on time for my flight to Bali. I even saved 600 extra baht this way.

I hadn't considered looking at flights because the train was cheaper, and I hoped to see a good amount of Thailand's countryside during the journey. Unfortunately, my seat was in the aisle, and everyone who occupied the window seats next to me insisted on keeping the window curtains closed. I didn't see much of anything besides some interesting large dinosaur statues somewhere along the way, when my seat mate got up to use the restroom.

Being in Chiang Mai for the lantern festival was worth any number of hours spent on the train. It was the perfect way to wrap up my time in the city. During the festival, Thai people (and lots of tourists) release floating lanterns into the sky along with wishes and prayers for the coming year. It's celebrated on the last full moon of the Thai lunar calendar (usually in November), and occurs as part of a larger and longer festival called Loy Krathong, where banana leaf baskets are filled with offerings to honor the Buddha and floated down the river. The whole city was decorated with lanterns for the weekend, and my previous hostel was kind enough to let me come back and make my own basket to celebrate.

I'm not sure where all these lanterns end up when their time in the sky is done, but the baskets are biodegradable, and seeing all those lights in the sky was really a treat.

Elephant Endeavors

If you've ever heard of Thailand and, more specifically, Chiang Mai, you've probably been made aware that one of the main tourist attractions is the opportunity to come into contact with some of Earth's most precious and holy creatures-- elephants. Among the people I talked to before venturing here, it was a highly controversial topic. Some said definitely go see the elephants because it was the best experience of life. Others said definitely do not go anywhere with elephants because they are all tortured and treated inhumanely.

All objections aside, like most tepid-hearted Americans coming to Asia for the first time, I pretty much knew that if I could find a semi-decent place where they didn't slash or prod the animals, I was going to see some elephants on this trip. I followed my friend Warren's recommendation, read as many elephant treatment reviews as I could, and set off for a day of close contact with trunk-wielding tree trimmers. I chose Into the Wild Elephant Camp, instead of the more popular and well-regarded Elephant Nature Park because I hoped for a more intimate, less crowded visit.

And it really was an unbelievable experience, and even more so because there were only 3 of us visiting 5 elephants that day. We hiked with them, bathed with them, and sort of ate lunch with them while they smartly tried to steal food from our table. I'd never touched one before, so spending hours next to them as they gracefully lumbered through the woods and covering them with mud to provide necessary sun protection offered a ton of new soul-satisfying observations.

I hope the elephants are always treated as well as I saw during the visit. Our guides seemed to genuinely care about them, and there were no bullhooks or riding baskets in sight. The elephants seemed to genuinely not care about anything other than eating, an act that they engaged in for almost all of the 5 hours we were with them. Apparently indifferent to our presence, they did, at points, threaten to chop our heads off with their superior lumberjack skills. I could certainly see why Thai Buddhists worship the elephant god, Ganesha, as the remover of obstacles. 

Surrendering to Life: Pai Edition

I set off on this journey with the intention of leaving many details unplanned. I expected to meet people in the second week of my travels, during the yoga portion, and wanted to leave room for spontaneous adventure. However, as the flight to Thailand crept closer, my anxious planning instincts started to take the reigns. Just to be safe, I set up a hostel for a few nights after the retreat, and scheduled another one in Pai (a nature-heavy, hippie town that had been highly recommended) for later in the week. My desires for impromptu backpacking gave way to my usual urge to control what comes next.

On Sunday, the last day of the retreat, our group was scheduled to practice together in the morning, and then be dropped off back in the city around noon. I was ready for some chill solo time, and my clothes were begging to be laundered. But I soon found out that the universe was chuckling at all my advanced planning and thinking that I knew what was good for me. My new Aussie friend, Amanda, also wanted to visit Pai, but her flight was leaving on Tuesday. Could we go that day? I was reluctant. My chill time! My laundry! We wouldn't get there until 7pm and would leave to come back not 24 hours later. 

Before I knew it, we were ditching our bags (at the pre-booked hostel) and riding a red truck to the bus station. The stars must have aligned since we were permitted onto the 3 o'clock bus, despite having shown up at the booking desk at 2:58. In accordance with online and word of mouth warnings, the road to Pai was rough and winding, but we made it unscathed. We sat down at a cafe to book a hostel for the night, and were amused to find out later that our room was actually a $4 sectional family tent on what looked like a riverside thatched hut commune. PaiZen River Jam Hostel was the place for us. 

We spent the night out making traveler friends, trying to spend as long as we could in the warmth of bars and fellow nomads. But sleeping outside felt good to us (mats and fleece blankets helped), and the river provided a zen spot to further our morning meditation habits. The next day, we conquered my fears of driving a scooter. We saw canyons and waterfalls and ate at the most amazing restaurant I've ever eaten at in my life. If you are ever in Pai, please eat most, if not all, of your meals at Earth Tone so I can relive it through you!

As predicted, we didn't want to leave after only a day, but the last bus was heading out at 5pm, and our scooter skills weren't quite up to the 3-4 hour ride back under the light of the moon. Although it was short, this trip presented me with some of the joys of last-minute planning. If I'd gone to Pai on my own, I would've had more time there and probably a slower-paced visit, but I wouldn't have had the courage to rent a motorbike or the confidence to cruise through the countryside with a friend! I might have seen the river running through the town, but my scheduled hostel was no more than a bed in a dorm on the main shopping street. I would have missed the canyons, waterfalls, and most of the natural beauty that Pai has to offer.

Once again, I'm reminded that the most exciting plans often come from letting go and seeing where the circumstances take you. So thank you to Amanda for helping me surrender to life and taking this trip with me. I wouldn't have had it any other way!