Lady The Tramp- Female Travel Blog by a Woman Traveler

Saraswati Puja in Varanasi

2011-02-11T00:08:00.000-08:00

This week is Saraswati's birthday, and everyone in Varanasi is celebrating this holiday on the Ganges.

India….I’m trying to understand this country…or maybe just come to terms with it, since I don’t think anyone can fully understand India.

Since I came to India, I have felt sexually harassed constantly. I am stared at…I am leered at, from under sleazy moustaches and sunken brows. I am propositioned by big bellied sweater-vested old guys, and young tightly panted young guys alike on a regular basis. This is gross. It almost seems like saying a simple “Namaste” to any male is taken as an invitation to grope me/sleep with me. Several of my students have already had negative groping experiences in India…at clothing shops, by tailors, at fruit stands, in market places, everywhere. This is gross. What’s up with this?

The only explanation I can fathom is that India is a contradiction. These past 2 days have been a festival for Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge and music.
Last night, I walked around my neighborhood with 2 American males. We stumbled in and out of several celebrations in front of Saraswati murtis. At one event, there was loud bhangra music blasting and we were invited to dance. I sat and watched, knowing that if I danced with males it would be an open invitation, again, for groping. I am already viewed as a “sexually open” white woman….and I don’t want to perpetuate the stereotype.

Finally a young girl eagerly approached me and asked me to dance with her. This was fine and appropriate, somewhat. It still attracted a crowd of creepy staring males, but at least she fended off all of the guys if they approached me, and yelled at them fiercely in Hindi if they encroached within 5 feet of me. She was awesome.

Tonight is the big ceremony. All day crowds have been rolling Saraswati murtis on chariots through town and down to the ghats to dump into the river. The music is wonderful. They are throwing colors at everyone. There are smiles on people’s faces. I wanted to join the festivities, or at least watch the cultural show. Let’s remember this is a religious festival. How bad could it be?

I walked down to the river with a female friend, and quickly realized we were just about the only women at the event (with hundreds of men) except for one Auntie-ji in a sari standing at a distance. I quickly became overly conscious of my bodyily space, and stuck out my elbows in defense. Teenage boys were wildly gyrating and thrusting their pelvises in an overly sexualized manner.

I adventured down to the river, and was approached by a boat captain, asking if I wanted to go out on a boat ride. I told him I wanted to ride with Saraswati. He told me that wasn’t a good idea because everyone is drunk and they will try to touch me. I said, “isn’t this a religious festival?” He said, “Everyone is having fun and drinking.” I decided against the boat ride, and wondered off to where a murti was being launched. A group of several young guys started to surround my friend and I. A man ran up and started yelling at all the guys in Hindi. He then turned to us and told us to leave right away. He said it wasn’t safe for us to be there, and, again, that guys were drunk and would try to touch us. We fled.

So the contradictions? Woman can’t attend a festival devoted to the devi, because the men do not respect women as they parade around the murti of Saraswati. Men are drinking alcohol (which is usually very taboo) to celebrate the religious ceremony. They dump the Saraswati murtis into the Ganges each year during the festival. In the newspaper that same night, I read an article about however many hundreds of thousands of rupees are being spent to clean up the trash from the Ganges.

The whole night made me feel uncomfortable. Our hotel manager told us to be sure to lock our doors. The music and dancing kept me awake all night. Maybe I am just being silly, and overly negative…maybe not. Today my friend asked me, “If there was one thing you could change about India, what would it be?” I responded, “Respect women in public places, so they don’t risk sexual molestation each time the leave the house.” I’m also tired of seeing wieners on a regular basis because men are urinating everywhere…

Ragigudda Hanuman Temple in Bangalore

2011-02-07T03:04:00.000-08:00

Wheeling around tight corners, through market places and tons of traffic, I finally arrived at the Ragigudda Temple in Bangalore after about an hour drive from my guest house. The Ragigudda Temple is a Hanuman temple, with murtis of Rama and Sita also. After re-reading the Ramayana upon my arrival to India, I decided I needed to pay homage at this temple. The temple is somewhat like an amusement park, as you are herded through lines from one murti image to the next.

This is my rickshaw driver who zoomed me through Bangalore. Riding in Rickshaws is a scary business in India. I came to the realization though, that you most likely won't die in a rickshaw accident. Despite the craziness on the roadways, there seems to be some sort of order. I dub rickshaws as excellent driver, actually because they can wheel around cars and motorbikes in the smallest spaces unscathed.

This is the entrance to the Ragigudda Temple in Bangalore. This temple is closed from 2-5 everyday, so keep that in mind when you visit.

(Sign in Kanada and English. Kanada is the local language of Karnataka state, and has it's own script.)

The Ragigudda temple is situated on the top of a huge rock formation. Perhaps this was a holy place before the construction of the temple.

Indian Beauty and Fat women

2011-02-04T04:06:00.000-08:00

I am having trouble uploading photos due to slow internet connections. So sorry for this.....but at least I have internet at all now.

India has an interesting conception of weight. It seems that bigger is better.

I’ll hypothetically say that perhaps this stems from a culture of poverty, where food is scarce, and most lower caste people are very thin. Thinness is a sign of poverty. Thinness is a sign that you probably do physical labor for work. Fatness is a sign of prosperity. Fatness is probably a sign that you don’t do much for work. I think for Western women traveling to India this is an important concept to grasp, lest you be offended time and time again about your weight.

In the United States, it is very impolite to talk to a woman about her weight and body size. Women are easily offended by this. Also, thin is best, and fat is grotesque. Our economy feeds on forcing women to believe that a thin body is sexy.

In India, fat women are yearned for, to say the least. Women in saris proudly protrude their naked bellies, and having a healthy appetite is preferred.

When I returned to India recently, it was a little disconcerting for me, until I recognized this cultural trait. Upon reuniting with former teachers and mentors, many of them commented on how much I have matured, and complimented on how I have gained weight. “Oh, how nice! It is a good thing you have gained weight!” Or from a very dear female mentor, “You have gained weight since the last time you were here! You are looking so sexy now!” I was totally thrown off by those curveballs, but I’ll take it. In my Western perception of myself and beauty, I really hope I haven’t been gaining weight though (although, I have been scarfing down massive amounts of paneer masala, dosa, roti, and other delicious Indian cuisines).

Back in Bangalore, India

2011-01-25T01:04:00.001-08:00

Arrival to India…..

Forgive my lack of writing lately, despite my promises. I have no idea why Bangalore is called the "IT capitol" of India, considering I can barely ever find a decent internet connection here.

Familiar smells of Bangalore, something like incense and flowers and exhaust fumes and bidis and urine….

I didn’t miss Bangalore until I came back this time. I never wanted to return to Bangalore….Maybe I still don’t want to return to Bangalore…but this time I came to India with a different mentality…Maybe because I know I didn’t like it last time, I have a more realistic view of what India and Bangalore will be. I’m not necessarily searching for the same things I wanted last time. This time I just want to make the best of it….I want to make sure my group survives, and that they have a good experience….Maybe I am not as selfish as I was last time. I was idealistic and wanted to see everything and do everything…..This time I have 2 goals to keep me more balanced- 1. Buy some beautiful Salwar Kameez and Saris, and 2. Go on pilgrimage for the last week in India.

I think these are sufficient to tide me over, so that I do not leave disappointed again. Often we are searching for something that we think will be somewhere, but it really just isn’t there.

Hello India. Nice to see you again. Lets be friends this time.

Snorkeling and Vacation in Bang Bao Ko Chang Thailand

2011-01-03T01:13:00.000-08:00

Today was a vacation day for me. I travel a lot, but I rarely have a stereotypical "vacation" experience. Most of my travels are for more academic purposes, delving into cultures, volunteering, visiting temples, etc. Today I took a break and decided to go snorkeling off the coast of Bang Bao on Ko Chang in southern Thailand. There are several companies in Bang Bao that offer snorkeling trips. I found a company that takes you out on a boat to 2 spots (lunch included) for the day for 700 Baht (around $23 USD).

(I'm on a boat and it's going fast and I have a nautical themed pashmina afghan (not really))

Snorkeling is really an awesome experience, swimming around with the fishes in the open water, surrounded by miles and miles of blue. It took me a few minutes to get use to breathing underwater, which is just not a normal thing for the human body.

(Applying sunscreen to prevent sunburn in Thailand)

Sunscreen is a must for my pale princess skin. I burn to a crisp in about 2.5 seconds under the Thai sun. Luckily in Thailand pale is considered beautiful. Oh yeah!

This is the front of our fishing boat.

Bang Bao Ko Chang Thailand

2011-01-02T03:46:00.000-08:00

I haven’t written anything on my blog for the majority of my time abroad in the last few months. I guess I get bogged down with doing other things, and then want to write about what I have already experienced, and end up just not writing at all. I think I need to make a conscious effort to just write, and not be worried that I won’t write about all of the amazing experiences I am having. I also feel pressured to write decent essays, instead of just writing unpolished journal entries…also not so good for keeping a blog. This is the beginning of my concerted effort to write more, I promise, half way.

(The Pier at Bang Bao Ko Chang, Thailand)

Currently I am watching the sun set over the island of Koh Chang in southern Thailand. I have been in Thailand for over two months now, and my time here is coming to an end. I had never been to the south or the beaches before. My entirety ( almost 5 months total) of time spent here has been in the north. I love the north. I loved it so much last time I was here that I didn’t leave, even though I had planned to travel south.

This year I dragged my feet out of the north and headed south. I miss the north already and can see noticeable differences between the two, but so far I’m enjoying myself and can’t really complain. I went to Koh Chang in search of a little paradise. I went all the way to the southern tip of the island to a little fishing village called Bang Bao. To sum up in one word, it is quaint. The village hasn’t been overrun by the regular half naked farang tourists yet (although some are here). I’m happy to see that there are also many vacationing Thai tourists here, with their families, or young couples.

(Sunset at Bang Bao, Koh Chang, Thailand)

The town is situated around a pier with seafood restaurants, kitchy shops, diving tour places, and fishing boats. My hotel is also on the pier, where I can here the soft rolling of ocean waves under my bed at night. How awesome is that??????

I’ve walked around this area a little bit. Yesterday I visited a beach nearby and sunned myself like a big lizard. Today I climbed over craggy rock cliffs, and found a remote place to strip down and jump off of rocks into turquoise colored water (although, I was a little afraid at first because there were schools of fish swimming around and lots of crabs). The rest of the afternoon was spent napping underneath the palm trees featured in the above photograph. Truly idyllic.

Taiwanese Hipster Haircuts

2010-09-19T05:49:00.000-07:00

Photo of the Day: Hipster Haircuts- Hair cuts and hairstyles are a huge deal here in Taiwan. The Hair salons are almost like clubs, with bumping techno music and trendy kids hanging out. Guys and girls alike are really really into their hair. This is a picture outside of a hair salon with a few pictures of hairstyles.

For more of my pictures from Taiwan please visit my Travel Photo Blog at http://travelerphotos.blogspot.com

Long Shan Temple in Taipei, Taiwan

2010-09-17T18:53:00.000-07:00

I visited Long Shan Temple this week, which is one of my favorite temples in Taipei. It was built by immigrants from Fujian Province, China in the 1700's. This temple represents Chinese popular religion. It is a mix of Daoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism-- ""San jiao heyi" - which means three teachings make one. The deity on the main alter is Guan Yin, who is a Chinese representation of the Avalokitesvara Buddha, the Buddha of Compassion. Another main deity found in this temple is Mazu, who is a folk deity popular in Taiwan and Chinese fisherman culture.

In this video the congregation is chanting Buddhist Sutras, and making offerings of fruit and incense. I had never been to this temple before while they were chanting. It is always very powerful to hear a collective voice praying. Last time I visited this temple, I took tons of photos. This time I tried to take several videos to capture the activity and sounds of the temple, which were more striking than the well composed, beautiful photographs I could have taken. I think the video is a better representation of the sentiments of being inside the temple.

For more photos of Long Shan Temple, please visit my photo blog at http://travelerphotos.blogspot.com

Egg Dough Crepe, Taiwan

2010-09-15T06:37:00.001-07:00

My photo of the day today is a picture of an Egg dough crepe. These are delicious!!!!! I have had 2 in the past 2 days. I had my first egg dough crepe near the train station in Shanghai...Now I am happy to be eating egg dough crepes again in Taiwan.

For more of my photos please visit: http://travelerphotos.blogspot.com/
I have recently added a few more photos of Taiwan. For now, please enjoy the photos while I contemplate things to write, and try to wait for a free moment to spend writing.

Gay Taiwan: Photo of the Day

2010-09-11T11:33:00.001-07:00

I just arrived in Taiwan today. I am staying at an apartment near Xi Men district. It is a very trendy place for young people to hang out in Taipei, and there also seems to be a large gay community here. I walked around all afternoon checking the new digs. This was the funniest sign I saw all day!

(Gay Taipei - "A Piece of Gayke" whatever that means)

How to Get an India Visa in New York

2010-07-30T07:31:00.000-07:00

I recently just got a ten year visa for India. The new process entails applying for the visa through an outsourced company, Travisa, who sets up an appointment time for you to drop off your passport and then pick it up on the same day at their office on 53rd street. When I dropped off my passport, I was surprised at the ease in which I moved through the process. There wasn't even a line when I dropped it off at the completely organized office.

This was a great improvement to the old system, in which you dropped your passport at the consulate. The "line" to the consulate would often be around the block, and once you entered the basement facility, you felt as if you had just stepped into the mayhem of the New Delhi train station, with men, women and children all shouting at once and pushing through the roped off areas towards the miserable looking women in saris safely seated behind bullet proof glass. It would take hours to even slip your passport through the window slot before your passport and visa application were scrutinized for any blemishes.

At the Travisa office, visa pick-up is between 5:30 and 6 pm for same-day service. I arrived at the office at the stroke of 5:30 excited about the receipt of my newly issued passport, and expecting an expedited service....I was greatly let down...I knew there had to be a catch to this seemingly smooth process. A line was already forming down the stairs to the office and woman toting yoga mats, Sikhs in bright orange turbans, and second generation Indian-Americans in business suits piled up in the waiting room. A Travisa employee informed us that the passports had not left the consulate yet. Supposedly there was only one person in the consulate office to sign visas that day. This was an omen that I was going to have a long wait. After standing for 45 minutes, the crowd began to thin as people grew impatient with waiting. I took a squat, and the line behind me followed suit, staking out for the long haul. I watched one tall, nerdy white man toting a "Passport Health" bag grow more and more weary of the situation at hand. He began shifting around until he finally took a seat in the middle of the room. The Travisa employee quickly ran over and reprimanded him for blocking the passage way. He stood back up....pacing in the mere square inches of personal space he retained in the hubbub. He continuously looked down at his watch, and muttering "Jesus Christ" under his breath.

Welcome to India guy; get use to the long wait. I found irony in his choice of the lords name as he was about to embark into the land of the hindu, and wondered how many more times he would be mumbling to Jesus Christ in vain surrounded by the images of Ganesha, Shiva, and Vishnu.

Our passports finally arrived over an hour late to a hail of cheers and clapping. I didn't leave the visa office until after 7 pm, broadly grinning with the acquisition of my 10 year visa, and my welcome back to India time. You can take a man out of the country, but you can't take the country out of a man.

The Comparative Religion and Culture Program - Global College of Long Island University

2010-07-28T17:30:00.001-07:00

I was recently promoted to Academic Assistant of the Comparative Religion and Culture program of Global College of Long Island University. I will be traveling with them to Taiwan, Thailand, India and Turkey in the coming academic year. I am ecstatic about this opportunity, and the best part is I have finally found a way to do what I love and also get paid for it.

Two years ago I was a student on this program. I only did the first semester, traveling to Taiwan and Thailand, but it was one of the most amazing few months of my life. While the program is physically, mentally, spiritually, and culturally rigorous, it yields the opportunity to explore a world rarely entered by most people.

In the modern day of jet-setters, many people have traveled, yes. Excuse me if I sound pretentious, but living and studying somewhere is completely different. It gives you a chance to dig deeper into the cultural landscape of a country. If you stay somewhere for long enough to learn the subtleties of daily life that most tourists are oblivious to. You know at what hour a man with a cart will walk down the street peddling his vegetables, you share food with people at the local restaurants where there is no menu in english, you learn the name of the woman who washes laundry and where her children go to school, and best of all, you make deep connections with the local people who eventually become your friends. I think this is why tourism is hard for me to handle....tourist look at things without seeing. They go for the famous sights, and adventure tours, but stay distant from the people and the thriving cultures of people. Locals become a hassle...instead of trying to comprehend their culture, tourists remain separated in hotels, bars, restaurants, tour buses, and only make friends with other tourists sharing their own cultural viewpoints.

I am excited to be back in the saddle and look forward to visiting some old friends and old haunts, and growing a deeper perspective to world religions.

Birthday Party in Brooklyn

2010-07-08T15:50:00.000-07:00

Traveling is lonely..and I think it is even lonelier when you go home, because you realize that all of your friends are abroad. Its virtually impossible to travel and constantly be surrounded by the people you love. I threw a birthday party last month. I think it was one of the best birthday parties ever and one of the first times I really felt at home. Somehow a majority of my friends that I've made over the past 5 years all ended up in Brooklyn on my birthday. I think this was the first times so many of my friends have been in one place at one time. Friends I traveled with in Taiwan, Thailand, Costa Rica and some local Brooklynites all showed up to wish me well and feed me a large portion of red velvet cake topped with cream cheese icing. I haven't had a birthday party since I was a young teen, mostly because my friends are always scattered around the world. Friendships are the nectar of life, sweetening this world little by little with each connection... and I'm grateful for the friends I have made and kept along this strange strange taciturn journey.

Ian Goodnight - Summer Music

2010-07-07T16:13:00.000-07:00

Ian Goodnight. Give it up for my brother. He's been working on a new album and finally posted some songs. I think this should be added to everyone's summer playlist.

Surf Bar in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY

2010-06-24T12:59:00.000-07:00

Go to the beach in Williamsburg, Brooklyn!
Surf Bar is located at 139 6th St, Brooklyn, NY 11211

On Saturday afternoon I had brunch at the Surf Bar in Williamsburg. Kitchy to some, but fun for others.... The entire floor of this bar is covered in sand, and in the back garden, the owners have succeeded in recreating a beach party atmosphere, complete with surf boards and Latin music smack dab in the middle of bustling hipsterville, Williamsburg. Even the building itself is a little untidy, unleveled, with walls not quite matching up to the ceilings, like many makeshift buildings in beach villages all over the world. On a breezy sunny afternoon, this seemed like the best spot in Brooklyn.

Their brunch menu offered decent meals and decent prices. It's $12 for anything on the brunch menu, with a drink (mimosa or bloody mary) included. The bloody mary was probably one of the best I've ever had, mostly because of the presentation. The glass was topped with a salted rim, a crispy celery stick, a toothpick full of olives, and a lime. I felt as if the bloody mary was almost a little appetizer to my meal. I ordered the huevos rancheros, and Ken ordered the breakfast burrito (sans the eggs), and we shared an order of yucca fries...yes yucca fries!!! (These are my favorite). Other things on the special brunch menu include french toast, spanish eggs, a hangover breakfast, and another favorite of mine, fried sweet plantains. The huevos rancheros were delicious, with a very fresh tasting thick crispy corn tortilla. The breakfast burrito left a little to be desired, probably because we had asked for no eggs. This restaurant does not have many vegetarian options (particularly if you are a vegetarian that doesn't eat eggs).

The night crowd in this restaurant can get a little bit rowdy. I've often seen drunken hipsters and frat boys obnoxiously spilling out of the Surf Bar into the streets of Williamsburg. As a lunch location though, I think it can be ranked as one of my favorite places to chill out on a summer day.

UPE! Greetings in Costa Rica

2010-06-18T11:18:00.000-07:00

I have a metal gate that goes to my apartment here in Brooklyn. Every time someone comes in and out I hear little clicks and tinkles of metal grating on metal that reminds me of Costa Rica. All of the windows and entryways in urban areas of Costa Rica are covered with protective measures, usually iron bars or razor wire. In many of the house there will be a gate to the property, a gate to the porch, and a gate to the front door. This often makes for a very heavy key ring.

Also because of these gated entrances you can't knock on anyone's door or ring a doorbell. Instead, when you arrive at someone's house in Costa Rica, you simply stand outside and yell UPE! And if you really want to get their attention you tap on the gate. One of my friends even had a special big metal ring that he wore, that I swear was solely for the purpose of knocking on people's gates. "Upe" has become one of the most well-known colloquial word in Costa Rica, other than their mantra "Pura Vida", and somehow it was always a fun thing to yell. In the mornings and evenings, my neighborhood would always be swarming with the word, as friends and family members met at each other's houses. Now, as I sit in my apartment in Brooklyn with the windows open, each time I hear a scrape at the gate I expect to hear that familiar cry, "UPE!"

Ethnic Food Recipes

2010-06-01T11:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes what I miss most about other countries is the food. Although their are Indian and Chinese and Thai restaurants all over the place, I still miss the culinary experience of other countries, and many of the foods have not been properly replicated in these restaurants as they are catering to the Western palette. The food is never as hot as it should be, and I miss the interaction of being able to see the cooks, or preparing vegetables with a friend or an adopted mother in another country, learning ancient cooking tips along the way. Even sharing meals in other countries is a totally different experience, like meals in China where little dishes are placed on a lazy susan and communally shared, each diner dipping their chop sticks in and pulling out tasty bits to put over a small bowl of rice. Of course there are many dim sum restaurants, but still something is missing.

I recently got me a bunch of new cookbooks, one on Thai cuisine, a pan- asian (Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Burmese, etc), Indian, and a vegetarian cookbook. I have been perusing them, looking for my old favorites, and getting excited on the prospect of having a kitchen to cook and new recipes to follow. Hopefully these will help me recreate some of the tasty dishes I have been missing. Another fun part of this will be searching out all of the ethnic markets in New York to find some of the exotic ingredients used in these recipes and hopefully some dinner parties with friends.

Ethnic neighborhood demographics of New York

2010-05-30T17:19:00.000-07:00

Recently in an after-work haze, I (stumbled) onto the express A train rather than the local C train, and once we had blown past my stop, I decided to explore wherever I got off and lengthen a leisurely walk home. At the Bedford-Nostrand stop, I got off to find myself in a predominately muslim neighborhood. There were Halal delis everywhere, and men wearing djellaba with red henna dyed beards and beautiful muslim women covered from head to toe in head scarves and burkas. A few blocks down on Fulton Street, I found a huge pink marble mosque, with a lively congregation pouring in and out of the decorative doors. The mosque looks a little askew on the corner, as it is built to face Mecca, which does not always directionally match up with the existing infrastructure of buildings. The air was booming with the call to prayer over the loud speakers, a noise that I often miss from my travels in India and Morocco.

One of the things that I love the most about New York (including the five boroughs) is that you can find any culture from around the world here. China town, Little India and the Latin districts of Jackson Heights, the Jamaican neighborhoods in Brooklyn, the Hasidic Jewish sections, and the Russian and Eastern Europeans populations nearing Coney Island.....

Everywhere I have ever traveled, I have met people who dream to go to New York, their eyes glazing over as they talk about the sights they want to see there. So obviously, immigrants from all over the world move here to find some sort of dream, and as Ellis Island was once the main port of entry for the United States, New York has become one of the most diversified cities in the world. I love finding new pockets of ethnic neighborhoods, where suddenly you are surrounded by foreign languages, markets, and clothing.

Itchy feet for Traveling

2010-05-29T10:56:00.000-07:00

Itchy Feet.....
Summer time has finally arrived, and the warm weather is making me yearn for traveling paradise. Summer heat always magnifies scents, some taking me back to the places I have lived, exhaust fumes sweltering in the Bangalore heat, the deep musky smell of chinese food in New York's chinatown, vendors burning incense on the street like in the mosques in Morocco, fresh cut pineapple like in the markets in Costa Rica.

I have now been in the US for over a year continuously...this has been a long, arduous road, adjusting to life here and reintegrating after living abroad for almost 4 years. However, I am still finding the tendencies of travel in my daily life. It seems like every weekend I am busy going somewhere, visiting friends, going home to philly, visiting my family in Maryland. After traveling for so long, distances seem a whole lot shorter when you are still in the same country. My life is still a little scattered without a definite home base. I know I probably won't be at my apartment in Brooklyn for more than a few more months, so I only moved the basics up there. Otherwise, the majority of my stuff and comforts of material possessions still reside at my mother's house. One day maybe I will be settled again, but I have no idea when.

Today I received an e-mail from a friend I met in Thailand. She was asking me about future traveling plans and invited me to meet up with her on her next travels. I think I am going to take her up on that. She is heading up to Canada in the fall. Even though Canada is so close to home, I've never been there. I think this will be my next journey.

Judah Friedlander Stand-up Comedy in New York

2010-05-28T09:27:00.000-07:00

The Village Lantern 167 Bleecker Street (and Sullivan St)

At night the streets around NYU are amuck with drunken college students....Despite this minorly abrasive factor, and desperately craving pizza and a pitcher, my friend and I meandered our way through the little bars and cafes just south of the campus in Greenwich village knowing this was the prime spot for cheesy pies and cheap drinks. Even more plaquing than the loud shouts of drunken frats boys, are the touts who stand in front of restaurants and bars beckoning for passerbyers to enter. Around every corner are the "funny guys" advertising free comdedy shows while trying to shove a flier into your hand, which you will find dropped in a scattered pile on the sidewalk about half a block away. Feeling frisky, and needing some light-hearted fun, we decided to check it out and participate in some laughing yoga for the night.

Unfortunately, we soon realized that these comedy shows are free for a reason....the comedians are lame. In fact, they are so offensive, that they should probably pay the audience to watch them, or at least pay us a pittance to laugh. All of the comedians were men, and each one explored a liturgy of racist comments, some even directed to members of the audience, gay bashing, and vile sex jokes demeaning women. They each reminded me of those really annoying, immature kids in highschool who were always making fart jokes and trying to get attention during class, the one that wasn't quite "cool" enough to be a bully, but they made fun of people anyway, and then they got their a$$es kicked. I seriously wish I could have given each one a beat down, and for much of the show the audience was silent, while the comedian bashed the audience for not laughing. Maybe since they are in the neighborhood of NYU, they get a lot of the previously mentioned frat boys who think their jokes are funny, but I'm not sure what other decent human being would laugh at such hackneyed and obscene material.

Note to Comedians: maybe you should get some new material. Tell a funny joke that doesn't involve making fun other other ehtnicities, women, gay people, or sex. I thought we were making strides to end these prejudices... and I can think of about 10 other funny topics to discuss that do not involve hate.

The only redeeming aspect of the night: Right as I was about to get up and leave, without having laughed at all, Judah Friedlander, who plays Frank on 30 Rock, appeared on stage. I decided I had to stay to at least hear what kind of ridiculousness he produces live (I love his character on 30 Rock), and sure enough it was the first time I actually laughed all night. That night his hat said "World Champion".

Finding Bollywood in New York

2010-05-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

Finding a little slice of Indian Bollywood in New York... The first Thursday of each month DJ Rehka blasts out the Punjabi beat of Bhangra at SOBS (at the corner of Varick and W. Houston). If you get there before 8 PM its $5, and afterwards its $16 to enter, or $13 if you print out their flier.

The night starts out with a Bhangra lesson. The teacher asks the onlookers to form lines, as she then demonstrates a few basic bhangra dance moves. Mostly the class is full of honkies stumbling through the crowd as the semi-pro Indian Bhangra junkies watch the hilarious antics. It almost feels like being in India again with the blatant starring and shy grinning hidden behind hands.

But once the lesson ends, the dance floor heats up with a hodge-podge of people trying to figure out how to jump to the beat, and others bouncing around on one foot, flying to the rhythm of the dhol (the traditional Indian drum that makes up the bass -dhaggah- and treble -tilli-). Compared to the normal club scene, I like this environment. People meet up to dance with friends, and just have a good, old-fashioned party. Groups of girls bounce together while groups of more flamboyant boys form circles encompassing battles of Bollywood dance steps hot off the movie screens and oozing with the saucy drama of the Bollywood scene. There is less co-ed dancing than most places, so you don't have to worry about suddenly being unwantingly pelvic-thrusted by some weird, sweaty guy.

As the night wears on, the best dancers leap on stage to enact seemingly choreographed Bolloywood dance numbers as old Hindi movies are projected onto a backdrop.

First-timers beware though: Bhangra is an intense work our requiring jumping, leaping, twirling and other aerobic acrobatics. I suggest wearing comfy flats and modest dress, to allow for optimum movement.

Vagabonding with Rolf Potts

2010-02-05T07:24:00.000-08:00

Today I checked my sitemeter and noticed I had a referral from vagabonding.net, a travel website by Rolf Potts originally based off of his book Vagabonding. This made me proud. Rolf Potts is one of the most well-known travel writers in the vagabond world, and to be linked by his website means that my travel blog must be half decent. I haven't posted anything amazing on this blog for about a year now. Mostly, this is because I have been in the U.S. Even though I have been traveling a little bit around the country, I have not been inspired to write like when I was abroad. However, this link has spurred a little encouragement to start writing again. So this time, when I say I will write soon, I mean it.
Check out my link on vagabonging.net:

http://vagabonding.net/resources/chap6.html

Also, I have been updating my photoblog with some of my old photgraphs that I haven't posted yet. Check those out at http://travelerphotos.blogspot.com

More to Come

2009-11-15T21:51:00.000-08:00

More will be coming very shortly......I will be spending Thanksgiving week at a place with internet, something I have been seriously lacking for the past couple of months....stay posted.

New Hope is Still Cool???

2009-08-14T07:07:00.000-07:00

I got two comments on my post about New Hope. Obviously some shop owners were a little disgruntled by my reviews.... Anyway, I'd like to post them, because these people do care about New Hope, and do care about retaining the old hipness of the little funky town. I hope that anyone traveling to New Hope will take these people's advice and maybe stop by their stores...
I still have to say, that despite the great efforts of people like this, New Hope is still being gentrified... I know there are still the funky shops in the "back allys," but the hip vibe and artsy appeal of New Hope should never be shoved into the back alleys.
Thanks for commenting!

Superkind has left a new comment on your post "Travel to New Hope, PA":

Night Owl Vintage clothing is now Night Bird Vintage clothing and is located at 12 West Mechanic St. New Hope. It is owned by the same great hippie dude that has had it for decades.
I own a business in New Hope, and let me tell you it is VERY hard to survive! People would rather buy things at the mall or online. Independently owned businesses everywhere are dying.

Love Saves the Day will refund you your 20 cents when you leave. They charge mostly as a joke because people treat the store as a museum, they want to look but have no interest in actually buying anything. Its pretty hard to make a profit that way!

The rents were too high for the used record store and the used book store. How many $5- alblums do you have to sell to make $2000 a month just for rent, never mind taxes, utilities, employees, etc.
The book store has moved to Trenton.

El Taco Loco has been in New Hope for over 20 years, and I find that it is typical for Tex Mex. Down the street there is an amazing Mexican place called the Blue Tortilla.

Next time ask a local shopkeeper to recommend you to their favorite restaurant! After all since we are here all the time we know the best places :-)

Oftentimes our memories of the past are made golden, and reality doesn't measure up.

New Hope still has funky back allys, and if you go up the side streets there are still cool shops filled with stuff you can't find at the mall. Clearly you missed the mortuary memoribilia and Victorian oddities shop, which is across the street from a funky punk rock shop, a vintage and retro shop, next to a hippie shop and above Night Bird Vintage.

You can thank wealthy developers for building condos and jacking property values. Unfortunately you cannot pass laws saying one kind of person is allowed to buy property or open businesses and another kind of person isn't.

If people want places like New Hope to flourish they have to support them! Otherwise we will all go away and be replaced by super wallmarts and such.

Don't be so quick to write New Hope off! Nothing stays the same after all!
____________________________________________________________

meshell has left a new comment on your post "Travel to New Hope, PA":

Well..I am sorry you didn't enjoy your visit to New Hope.The economy is hitting us hard here. Obviously, you didn't visit my shop on Mechanic Street called God save the Qweens. Perhaps if you would have walked up to it,you would have enjoyed picking through my shop, filled with awesome rock and roll clothes for infants to adults,vintage toys,collectibles,costuming,punk rock,even beautiful handblown glass by an incredible local glassblower.etc. There is something in my store for everyone. And then, you would have noticed that your famed "boarded up" vintage clothing store had moved to a bigger location right across the street.You also would have noticed an authentic old skool curio shop filled with interesting items from all the way back to the victorian age...also a newly added antique store...a mug shop,a beauty store, a corset shop and much more... so I hope you give New Hope one more chance...don't let 1 bad meal and a 20 cent entrance fee leave an additional bad taste in your mouth...you just need to take the time to shop the side streets...you just never know what you will find...enjoy...
meshell
owner of
god save the qweens
13 w mechanic st
new hope,pa 18938

Travel Book Review: Holy Cow

2009-08-06T08:38:00.000-07:00

The first time I started reading Holy Cow by Sarah MacDonald was in 2006, in the summer before I left for India. I never finished it though. When I read it I was disturbed by her initial hatred of India. She talked of the smog and rickshaw drivers and dirt and begging and bargaining and hassle of every day life there. I didn't believe her.

When I was in Costa Rica the year before I had met a lot of people who hated it, who had awful experiences there, who were in constant battle with the country/ culture. On the other hand, I had a great experience, I loved it, and to this day it is still one of my favorite places in the world. Because of this, I thought I could conquer India, that I could overcome the horribleness that many Western travelers experience. I had always wanted to go to India while growing up and I was determined to love it.

However, when I got there, I realized it was just too much. I couldn't handle it, and like MacDonald, I also became physically ill and depressed and hassled by the culture. I was so eager to run away, that I left on the last day of classes. I handed in my final revisions of my school work and caught a rickshaw to the airport. Despite my commitment to stay for a year, and my scholarship I had received to study there, I just couldn't handle it.
Since then I have always regretted not pushing through. I have always regretted not overcoming that challenge.

Now I am reading Holy Cow again, and loving it. I feel like I need to push through the reading, like somehow if I do that, then eventually I will be able to push through another round of India. I am more equipped (mentally and emotionally) to deal with that country now, and as I read her story, my yearning to go back is only growing. By the end of the book MacDonald has acquired a deep love for India, and a rewarding comfort living within the culture.

My boyfriend is going to India for a few weeks this winter. I have to stay in the USA and work for a couple months, but hopefully by December I will have enough money saved to embark on another journey through India. Out of all of the countries I have traveled to, I think my desire to return to India is the greatest, because I know it is the most challenging country I have been to....a challenge I want to overcome.

Travel Blogs are Weird

2009-07-25T08:27:00.000-07:00

I think blogging is a little bit weird, or maybe just the type of blogging one does. I write a travel blog. It is usually a non-fiction first person narrative. This is my favorite sort of writing, but often it is very personal. I write about places where I am and activities that I am doing. Other people have travel blogs that are more like travel guides and reviews. Maybe that is more effective. I think first person narratives are more interesting though.

Back to the point. Blogs are kind of creepy. Anybody in the entire world can read my blog and look at my pictures. If you Google search my name, you will find links to my blog. This makes an easy target for stalking. Everyone, everywhere can know where I am. Sometimes people who I don’t necessarily want to know what I doing know where I am.

I have a site meter on my blog to see where people are entering my blog and what they are searching for when they find my blog. Sometimes it is disturbing to see what people are looking for. One of my most popular pages on my photo blog is under the title “trash cans and school girls.” When I posted on “Women with armpit hair,” my blog traffic instantly increased by about 50 people a day. This is weirdo stuff.

Now that I am applying for jobs I wonder how much of this employers may be looking at.

Travel to New Hope, PA

2009-07-22T07:44:00.000-07:00

Despite the weather forecast of rain and thunderstorms all weekend, Saturday turned out to be a gorgeous sun-filled day. I peeled back the top of my convertible Volkswagen Cabriolet and hit the road, heading towards New Hope. In high school this was one of my favorite places to go, often taking day trips there with my mother, especially during my senior year of high school when I was homeschooled. New Hope is a little hippie haven on the PA/ NJ border. The streets are lined with quaint ancient buildings with back alleys leading to a run-down canal and there’s an old train line where tourists can ride up and down the tracks in antique cars. New Hope is famous for its antique stores and vintage clothing shops and boutiques offering treasures from every corner of the world. With its close proximity to Philly and New York, the artsy urbanites would flock here to go antiquing and many transplanted to open up art galleries or studios. I should say….this is how it used to be.

I arrived in the early afternoon to streets packed with tourists in big hats and khaki shorts. To my dismay, New Hope was looking a little less quaint. I cruised around looking for parking, and finally settled on a lot near the train where a new mall had been constructed. I was starving and thirsty from the drive so I jumped into the first restaurant I passed, a Tex/Mex place. I liked the decorations with orange and yellow and blue paint, Aztec calendar mandalas covering the walls, and a particularly awesome sculpture of a Mexican mariachi drunken skeleton. I ordered a taco salad (after one caught my eye coming out of the kitchen) and sat down to wait, sucking down a rootbeer.

My meal came, a big fried tortilla bowl with rice, refried beans, lettuce, tomato, cheese, sour cream, and guacamole. I doused it with salsa verde and munched a few intermittent pickled peppers (my favorite). Half way through the plate I couldn’t eat anymore. The food was mediocre, and maybe Taco Bell would have even been better. I surveyed the tables of other customers and realized everyone had a variation of these same ingredients. Nothing different, nothing special, nothing that looked any better. I guess that’s how Tex/Mex places are. The meal left me feeling full and my stomach never quite settled the food.

I stepped out into the hot sunshine. The restaurant was right next to a vintage clothing shop I use to like. It was closed, boarded up and all. I turned the corner and headed towards my favorite record shop. I had once gotten a Patti Smith record there and a Souxsie and the Banshees album for about 5 bucks. I found it also closed. Things were looking down, and my food still felt like it was bubbling up into my throat.

I headed towards the river, and the main drag. The sidewalks were swarmed with summer tourists, fat old men and shi-shi women. A dirty hippie decked in mismatched tye-dye was spotted every couple of blocks through the drone of people. The roads were at a dead stand-still with traffic. Solitary men with one ear pierced blasted 80’s dance music from their convertible Porsches and BMWs and a meaner sort of men dressed in leather chugged by on motorcycles, out to enjoy the verdant ride by the river down route 202.

I reached the corner, and to my dismay the famed vintage/ curio/ novelty shop was now charging customers 20 cents to enter. The shop windows were lined with signs reading “No Photos.” This every inch of this shop is cluttered with curious objects, antique wedding dresses, fishnet stockings, old metal lunch boxes, dirty playing cards, punk rock buttons, and other little trinket treasures. Somewhere they must have changed their politics, and were now charging people money to enter. I thought this absolutely absurd and refused to go in. Why would a shop charge people an entrance fee? This just seemed greedy.

I walked further down, and browsed the 500 shops all called “Shop of India” and all selling the same few brass statues of Hindu gods, Nag Champa incense and hippie clothing from India that Indians don’t actually wear. Some time someone must have gotten a huge shipment of these items, and never restocked or tried to find anything more unique.

After perusing shop after shop, I found one man who had imported a ton of knick-knacks from Bali. One sculpture stuck out as a jewel among the rest of the rubbish; a wooden image of Hanuman, meticulously carved in detail to show each and every hair.

I searched up and downs the streets for a used book store that use to have excellent deals, but this too had been swallowed up by the new commerce of New Hope. This was the final straw. New Hope was no longer for me. All the things I had loved about the place were gone. All had been replaced with pricey kitschy tourist shops. The artist seemed like ghosts, and the crafts were all cheap, imported, mass-produced. I guess an end comes to everything good. I know for sure I have no desire to go back to New Hope.

Little India in New Jersey, USA

2009-07-21T09:14:00.000-07:00

Missing India led me to Little India in New Jersey, searching for a meal, action, and a little bit of the discomfort felt in traveling. The little stretch of town itself is a hodge-podge of cars and restaurants and jewelry shops and stores selling knick-knacks and illegal Bollywood CDs and DVDs. I instantly felt like I was back in the land of the East listening to the blaring horns, wailing bhajans, and multitude of incomprehensible languages. The women were all decked in brightly dyed sarees and salwar kameezes stitched with sequined embroidery, and the men spit out great gobs of red paan soaked saliva, dying the sidewalks with the familiar bloody splotches. I walked passed shops selling sparkling expensively intricate gold jewelry, and perused a few selling old holy books in Hindi and shiny brass dancing Gods and Goddesses. A little food court appeared to be a main attraction, packed with shouting men running all over the place, devouring chai and Indian snacks. I ordered a sugarcane juice with lemon and ginger and uncomfortably waited amongst the men. Even a honky hippie couple entered the establishment, barefoot, dreaded, and cloaked in tie-dye scarves and baggy corduroys.

I think America is awesome because of our diversity. There are little pockets of people from every country of the world adding to our stew pot.

When I was in India I hated it. I hated all the crowds of staring people and all the commotion and all the pollution. Maybe it was just Bangalore, where it feels like everyone is desperately trying to hide the fact that they are Indian. The place feels robbed of its culture, like all the crap of India resides there without the colorful charm and spice that defines the rest of India.

I also think I went there at the wrong time in my life, to the wrong place, and with the wrong people; definitely the wrong people. When I traveled alone in India, in Rajasthan I loved it, but I hated my time spent in Bangalore, feeling suffocated. As soon as I left India I regretted it. I missed it dearly. I knew I had not unlocked the secrets or nearly explored all of the back alleys or met all of the colorful smiles that the country has to offer. I have always felt a yearning to return, under better circumstances.

For a few short hours I enjoyed this reminiscence of India and envied my sisterfriend who arrived in Dharamshala today.

Vagabunda goes corporate

2009-07-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I'm not actually going corporate....just searching for a job.

I have been getting some e-mails from people wondering where I am.SO.....I am currently stationed at my family home in Philadelphia. After a long semester in Brooklyn, I finally graduated after 4 long years abroad. But after writing a thesis and having all of my hair fall out due to stress and dengue related illness (I guess all of your hair falls out a couple months after having dengue...what a fun surprise that was), I needed a couple months to recuperate and be taken care of by my mom (she cooks delicious meals, what can I say?).

Now I am searching for a job. The past couple of summers I have relied on archaeology jobs to earn my traveling bean money, but this summer the beans just aren't sprouting. I had a potential job offer in New England which fell through (still a little upset about that), and contacted my old co-workers, most of whom are also hard up for work. I thought that this "economic crisis" wasn't going to hit dirt diggers, but I thought wrong. I am gauging the severity of shovel bum job loss by a post on shovelbums.org's job listings. There was a post for a project in Philadelphia, and hearsay suggested that they needed about 30 field techs. A couple days ago the company re-posted asking people to please stop sending in their resumes, as they had received over 500. I think this is cause for a little bit of alarm. My resume is competing with over 500, probably more qualified applicants.

So, I have moved on to bigger and better, or maybe just different things.
Ultimately, I want to help people, I want to works towards making this planet more habitable, I want to work towards humans being happier and less hungry.
SO, I am making a call out to my readers....Anybody got a job out there for a young, idealistic woman???

P.S. I will try to write some more. I am sort of just wallowing in a hole in the USA, not doing too much traveling, so I have been lacking passion for writing about my passion....traveling.

Almost finished

2009-05-01T12:30:00.000-07:00

I will be finished with this semester of climbing in and out of windows in a few days and then I will get back to writing. I have so much to tell you about!

Road Trip in Thailand Part II

2009-01-24T15:44:00.000-08:00

Here is part II of my road trip in Thailand. Hope you enjoy!

Road Trip in Thailand

2009-01-23T09:40:00.000-08:00

Between Christmas and New Years I took a little road trip through northern Thailand with some friends. We went to the country in Fang, Chiang Rai, the Golden Triangle, monkey temples and all over the place.
Enjoy the video

I'm a Bad Blogger

2009-01-11T05:10:00.001-08:00

Ok, so I will admit it. I am a bad blogger. Andy from hobotraveler.com says a blogger should post everyday. When he says things like this I always self-consciously think they are directed towards me. (Andy I know if you read this you will tell me I am self centered.....or have some other snide comment, haha.)
I go through long bouts where I just don't write on this thing at all. Maybe I am just super lazy.....or maybe there is the even greater problem that I let my "life" get in the way of my "life." Weird how that happens....
In December I was moving around through the wilderness quite a bit...trekking, going on road trips, and basically trying to get a little too caught up in Thailand. Oh, yeah, I remember, I was also writing a very long thesis....wow, that took up a lot of my time....those things are really hard to write, I realized....and you should probably give yourself more time than a week to write it.... no matter how much you want to be doing this instead........

But at any rate, I think I will start posting again. I am backlogged a little bit from Thailand....getting ready to move up to Brooklyn for a few months.....we will see where this journey takes me.

XOXO,
Mira

Empty Space in an Empty Night

2008-12-11T23:54:00.000-08:00

Middle of the night and there is confusion floating through my brain…too much coffee…too much life….The night is perfumed by farm scents…like I am home in America…tucked into bed with my actor daddy home from New York for the weekend and my artist mommy and the house smells of oil paints and love and comfort and creativity…familiarity…Here at empty space Chiang Mai the momma is a potter and the papa is a german actor who works in New York...the drama is all too similar.
and the farmlands of America must have flown on the breeze across the world to visit in Thailand…cow manure and chickens and the dank smell of irrigation water…I grew up next to a farm and a pond and here I am surrounded by rice fields and lotus ponds...but it is slightly different....spiced with enticingly fragrant foreign flowers telling me that this must be a dream…I must be in Thailand…I must be in the tropics…the longitude and latitude are all wrong for home…dogs are barking and roosters crowing and I fear they too are confused for the morning sunlight is hours away…or do they cock-a-doodle-do to wake something up inside myself…wake up…wake up…wake up….and out of this bizarre dream…this bizarre dream of infinite happiness that will never reach truition because somehow I have gotten time mixed up in my mind…between past present future future past future present…future present tense…present progressive…gerund….do they cry cock-a-doodle-do or eeky-eeky-eeee as they are Thai roosters and therefore must speak Thai more fluently than English…still lost in my dream…and things can be hard here like walking through vanilla pudding….I am afraid of waking up from this dream….waking up and saying goodbye yet again…and again and again and again…and it gets so taxingly depressing that they all turn into ghosts whom haunt my e-mail in-box…. “greetings from Germany, Hola de Honduras, Bonjour du France, Howdy from Colorado, I want to talk to you from New York, ‘Ello from England, Ni Hao from Taiwan.” How many must there be? I am scared of the impending doom of “Sawadee krop from Thailand.” I know it is coming. I, too, am a ghost hovering over a bright screen through the psychic medium of cyber-space…lost in the space-time continuum of I miss you after two years when are you visiting again been thinking of you XOXO.

Orphanage in Thailand

2008-12-11T02:34:00.000-08:00

I arrived at the Orphanage to a confusing scene. I visited the orphanage as part of my school curriculum. There were children crawling all over an open patio area. There were 2 camera men filming the scene. In the middle of it all was a very beautiful girl dressed in posh clothing. I soon found out that the girl was a Thai movie star, and she was doing charity work by giving gifts to the orphans. Everyone seemed very caught up in this, and no one really even noticed my arrival. I had no idea what I should be doing, so I just sat on a bench and watched.

The movie star was filmed dancing with the children. The children then sang her a song and she happily clapped. Next she handed out flowers as each child clasped there hands in a wai and replied “Ka phoon krop.” Next she handed out clothing and toys. The toys caused a complete uproar as the children ran all over, ripping the heads off of their new Barbies and crashing their plastic planes on wheels into people’s feet.

One little boy noticed me then, and we began playing with his little plane. I still had no guidance form anyone, so I guessed I should just play with the children. The movie star had stolen the show from me, though, and most of the children were not interested in playing with me, despite my efforts to be fun.

The whole situation was odd. No one from the orphanage approached me to explain what was happening. No one explained who these children were, or how they had gotten here. No one explained what the orphanage did, or how they were funded, or what happened to the children after they reached a certain age. No explanation. No one even asked me who I was, or why I was playing with the children. I feel like it would be easy for just anyone to walk in off the street and start playing with the children.

There were other foreigners at the orphanage also playing with the children. I didn’t know why they were there either. Maybe it was common for random tourists to volunteer to help at the orphanage? Maybe they were looking to adopt the children? I did find a bulletin board with pictures and letters of Western families who had adopted children from this orphanage.
All in all this was a strange experience.

Free Write on Getting Lost

2008-12-09T07:05:00.000-08:00

to lose my mind…god how I want to lose my mind.to just be blown away like all those crazy poets back in the day.. follow jack Kerouac on the road and jump on the bus and trip out to acid and go on a JOURNEY. The best parts of journeys in not the place you are going to but the getting there…I think I stole that quote from somewhere..but it is a good one at least…so I walk..i like walking..the first time I go anywhere I walk…for miles…walk…look….walk…look…if I get lost somewhere I will always be able to find my way home again after that…it is better when you are lost..you meet people..ask directions…find small little alley ways in morocco that are so crazy that there aren’t even maps of these places and everything looks so foreign and men with discomforting grins look out their windows and fat women washing laundry jeer at you like what the hell are you doing here and then you find a girl in a djellaba that leads you back to the street and holds out her hand when you thought finally finally someone is just being truly nice and good hearted..but no..that hand is held out to grab your heart…or your wallet,and you stop trusting the world again…stop following again…but you always start following again and in each new country it is so different…new people new faces..god I love faces…just looking at the shapes of eyes, the complexions….the way lips curl…maybe this is racist because I actually look at the differences…and in america we are not allowed to look at these differences..it is not politically correct..we all have to look the same….everyone is gray gray gray gray gray gray gray gray gray gray….AND I cANT StAND IT ANYMORE I WANT TO GET OUT OF THERE!!@ so I tend to say some comments that reallllllly offend people…but to me it is REAL REAL REAL…the world is real and it is true that people are DIFFERENT!!! Everywhere…I swear!!!! People in other countries know I am different..they look at my white skin and know I am not from there and it feels so good sometimes to know that it is ok to look at our differences and the world would be pretty sucky if the vision of America really was spread everywhere and we weren’t allowed to look at funny shaped eyes or kinky black hair or weird customs that really ARE wrong like cutting off women’s clitorises and how does America feel about that?????? But back to being lost..and lost maybe is an emotion…I want my mind to be blown and that is why I travel..to see crazy stuff on the street…the street is where its at and again that’s why I walk..to be with the people to walk by the lepers and the naked holy men and the children begging and the rickshaw drivers that I absolutely hate that grab at me and I always threaten to hit them and call them an a-hole but secretly somewhere deep down I like it…and travel changes you somehow…once you go maybe you cant go back..andy says I am well on my way to going over the edge..the edge of no return..where you just cant stay in that box anywhere and go to work in an air conditioined cubicle and work in an air conditioned cubicle and live in an air conditioned cubicle because your mind is just not there…and I love freaking people out who live in these air conditioned cubicles because there is sooooo much more to life!!! So much more that people don’t see…so much more that people should see…and I want to blow these people's minds until they see….be crazy…be bizarre…be eccentric…..and then I will be lost forever maybe…and I think if you lose everything and then you are lost then you are free…but this concept of free still scares me..and I don’t know if I can go there…I still have my attachments to the world…MY money. MY family. My pets. My stuff. My clothes…..MY bobby mcgee….and if I didn’t have all of this I would wonder…wander…wander….wander…..wander….wander.

Live Music in Chiang Mai

2008-12-08T05:06:00.000-08:00

I reunited with Heidi with many hugs and kisses and misses. After spending the day showing me all of the venues she had scoped out for me, she insisted that we go to the Brasserie and watch a to-die-for musician. We arrive at the bar a little after 11. It is just getting started. There is a small band stage set up where a young

Thai guy with an afro is wailing on the guitar. He is playing the blues, really playing the blues, and moaning baby baby baby. I am already blown away by his voice. His eyes were half closed in a sort of musical ecstasy. I could tell he was really listening to his music and was not mentally present on this stage in front of the crowded bar. I sat outside and listened to his set, already amazed and excited to see someone who has an ear for the blues.

After the set, another young Thai guitarist came on stage, but the rest of the band stayed put. This guy started playing classic rock. He was equally as talented, but different. Same, same, but different. He jammed out of his guitar, and Heidi and I joked about how his expression looked like he was climaxing.

About halfway through the set a tall skinny Thai man appeared on stage. In the midst of a song he quietly and humbly strapped himself to his guitar and began strumming back-up. This was what the crowd has been waiting for, this guitar maestro who has once toured with Bob Dylan. The young Thai guy backed off and Tuk began wailing, strumming, picking, jiving. I have never heard anything like it. Although it sounds sacrilegious, I felt like I was in the presence of the great one and only Jimi Hendrix. He was that good. He just rocked and rocked, breaking strings, stringing up new guitars, wailing, playing all of the classics, but with a twist. My eardrums undulated in delight, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of his fingers. The whole crowd became mesmerized with his amazing finger picking, silent only until a break allowed roaring applaud. The walls reverberated with so loudly with guitar solo that the whole bar threatened to buckle under the melody. I finally realized the Hendrix album name “Are you experienced” must be titled thus due to the incomparable sensation one experiences when they watch such a master of music. Who would have thought such a musical gem was hiding out in a little bar in no-where-ville Thailand?

Monk Chat at Wat Suan Dok in Thailand

2008-12-07T07:13:00.000-08:00

Three nights a week Wat Suan Dok hosts a monk chat for foreigners. The idea is that the foreigners learn about Buddhism and the monks practice their English. Wat Suan Dok has a Buddhist university in Chiang Mai, mostly populated by monk students from the countries surrounding Thailand. The classes are in English, mostly, so the monks like to practice the language.

A red truck taxi dropped me inside the temple grounds in front of monk chat. I sat down in a bright blue plastic chair and was swarmed by fluorescent orange robes wrapped around swarthy bodies. The conversations started out with polite “how are you’s,” “Where are you from’s,” and “what is your name’s.” Most of the monks were from Cambodia. They were from poor families and had entered the monkhood so they could afford to study. Otherwise, their families wouldn’t have been able to afford to give them an education.

I wanted to talk to the monks about something other than Buddhism. For me it is more interesting to know about what they do in daily life, how they feel about the outside world and their internal dialogues about living the life of a monk. I asked if they ever thought about de-robing and starting a family. They all got a sheepish look in their eyes. One monk shyly expressed a slight hope in this dream. I think he was on the brink of this decision. I could understand how if one joined the monkhood solely for the sake of their education, they may one day dream of leaving the monkhood and once again leading a normal life after studying. Yet, somehow this question seemed to signal to the monks that I was interested in them. They became overtly flirtatious, asking me about boyfriends and dirty jokes.

(Thai Buddhist Monk circling a stupa)

They proudly told me about their Ipods and asked if I liked to dance to Shakira. I said yes. They asked if I could dance for them. I said maybe later. They giggled. These monks, I fear, have not overcome desire.

Another monk offered to give my friend a guided tour around the monastery. She accepted, of course. The monk, however, had ulterior motives for being alone with her. While walking, he asked her very personal questions about sex. She felt a little uncomfortable, but also in her naivety trusted the integrity of the monk’s vows of purity. Their conversation spiraled out of control and it reached its peak when the monk stated, “It would be okay if you touched me by accident. I wouldn’t tell anyone.” My friend took that as her cue to rejoin the group.

It was enlightening to see this side of the monks. Most people see them as spiritually enlightened and pure, but this monk chat showed a completely human side of the monks. They may be working towards holiness, but they are still humans with human desire. They are not quite perfect just because they shaved their heads and donned orange robes.

The Chao Phraya River in Bangkok

2008-12-06T02:55:00.000-08:00

A Poem

The Chao Phraya, the monster on which the empire of Siam was built. Walking past a community of the homeless and jumping a few fences I find myself drunk next to the river with a good group of friends and a bottle of moonshine. The river, black water moving fast, reflecting the moonlight. The bright silver orb flashes light on the rubbish and logs floating through the kingdom. All of Thailand was once connected only by this waterway, due to the dense tropical jungle that once stood in the way of development. Bangkok was like a Venice of the East, connected by canals, with riverboats slowly drudging their way up the Chao Phraya, floating markets, and countless romantic suicides of drowning in the swift currents. The river looks beautiful tonight; it must be dazzling in the sunshine.

Nightlife in Bangkok part II

2008-12-05T02:17:00.000-08:00

I smiled at a few Thai boys walking passed. One stopped to chat. He was wearing rasta colors, and decked out with hippie string bracelets. We started talking. He brought his brother over, who looked a little older. Amy got stuck with the brother.

They asked if we were hungry. I said no. They insisted we go eat with them anyway. I said ok. We followed the men down a couple of alley ways and through the Bangkok night. It was started to drizzle, and the brother was afraid of getting his head wet. Boy told me that he was half-Chinese and half-Thai. His mother had come from China. We exchanged a few words in Mandarin, and I asked him about Buddhism and his family. He was open, but thought I was a little silly for being so curious.

They wanted to take us to a food-stall that had Thai/Chinese food. We sat down on little red stools, scooting the table out of the rain. Amy continued to talk with the brother, a little awkwardly, and I continued talking to boy. They ordered for us, so I had no idea what to expect. The first dish arrived. It looked like shi-fan, a rice porridge that I ate in China. It was topped with a raw egg. I hoped mine wouldn’t be topped with a raw egg, and I would be forced to eat something gross that would make me sick. Luckily it wasn’t. It was just shi-fan with some sort of meat. I wasn’t very hungry and it took me a long time to eat my meal, but that gave us a little more time to talk. We got up to leave, and the bill thing came into play. I didn’t know if they had paid or we were expected to pay. I had heard that often people will seem like they are taking you out to dinner and then leave you with the bill. The brother pulled out a wad of cash and paid for us. I thanked him, but I was still a little confused. Did I “owe” them something now?

They asked if we wanted to go to a wat with them. I told them it was too late, so they said they would walk us home. We got to Khao San and they said goodbye. I hugged boy. They said nice to meet you and walked away. I got out unscathed, without any expectations. It was a strange encounter for me to meet a boy who wasn’t expecting anything other than to have a friendly meal. No asking to see me again. No trying to get physical with me. Just hello and goodbye. It was nice.

Khao San Road at Night

2008-11-30T00:16:00.000-08:00

Amy and I hit the street late one night in search of a party. We found a seedy underbelly of Khao San Road. Searching for a bar that wasn’t inundated with prostitutes and men seeking prostitutes, we found ourselves one street off of Khao San Road. It was amazing the contrast between the two streets. Khao San is swarming with tourists, drunkness, debauchery, and tourist prices. The next street over was blanketed by homeless families sleeping on the pavement. We stopped at a little stand where a woman was brewing coffee. She gave Amy a small cup and added just about a million different types of carnation canned milk. We couldn’t figure it out. Amy asked her how to say thank you in Thai. The woman looked at us like we were mad. We walked back to Khao San Road. The night felt young, but we still hadn’t found our party. We just stood on the street for a minute letting Thailand pass us by.

It was an interesting spectacle watching the people of the night. Prostitutes were on the prowl for foreign customers. Girls or maybe lady boys were approaching mostly older white men, following them just far enough to be sure they weren’t biting the bait. Then they would return to their original position outside of the bar, with the hook out waiting for another fish to stumble out into the drunkenness of the night.

Amy and I watched these interactions, trying to guess if the night-walkers were females or she-males. Two prostitutes finally wound their arms around two young blond boys. They were with a group of friends, all under 18 I imagine. I wondered if the boys would go through with the deal, if they knew the deal they were getting themselves into. God you can get into trouble in Thailand, I thought. Did these kids’ parents know where they were?

A self-proclaimed Japanese man approached me. Looking back he might have thought I was a prostitute too, just standing in the street watching the world go by.

He didn’t look Japanese at all. I gave him my Japanese alias “Mirataki.” He tried speaking Japanese to me. I told him he was full of crap. He tried to coax me into a bar with him. I refused. He walked away looking very angry.

Dengue Fever in Chiang Mai, Thailand

2008-11-25T18:21:00.000-08:00

I know there was a large gap in time that I was not writing on the blog and I hope you all were very worried about me ;).

Last Thursday night I came down with a very high fever. I rolled around in bed all night sweating and shivering and moaning. Friday I had an advising meeting, so I woke up early and rushed over to see my advisor. I told him about my fever, and that my head was just too sick to talk about academics.

I returned to my room with the intention of sleeping away my illness. The fever continued to climb all day long, and I started getting really bad pains in my kidneys and legs. When I was in Guatemala last April I had suffered a similar illness. I thought maybe I had problems with my kidneys. Maybe I was drinking to much coffee. Maybe I was really dehydrated. Maybe I had a kidney infection.

However, I was a little worried about my situation because my roommate had gotten dengue the week before. I was stubbornly determined that I did not have dengue. I am afraid of hospitals and did not want to spend days lying away dying.

Friday evening I took 2 I.B. Profen to bring down the fever. I felt ok for a couple of hours, but by Saturday morning I could tell I was getting worse, not better. Two of my friends coaxed me into going to the hospital to get checked out. The man who runs our hotel graciously gave me a ride over to the Chiang Mai Ram Hospital.

(Sick in the Hospital with Dengue)

I filled out some paperwork and then waited…and waited…and waited. Finally a nurse took me into a small room, took my temperature and blood pressure, weighed me, and asked a few questions. The doctor repeated this procedure. Then I was shuttled over to get blood drawn and pee in a cup. And before I could protest the nurses were shoving me into a wheel chair and admitting me into the hospital as a patient. I was not happy, but my high fever rendered me unable to protest.

There isn’t really a treatment to cure Dengue Fever, so the most they can do it treat the symptoms. I was hooked up to an I.V. to keep me hydrated. I guess hydration is the most important factor in surviving Dengue. Throughout the day they loaded me up with antibiotics, fever reducers, and stomach ulcer medication (I don’t really know why the stomach ulcer medication was necessary).

And so I thought I was going to die in a hospital bed from brain hemorrhages. I had a pounding headache behind my eyes and my entire body felt like it was being smashed underneath a steam roller. All I could do was lie there, aching and watching old Tom and Jerry cartoons.

I spent four days in this state. The hardest part about it was that I was incapable of doing anything. I hate being incapacitated, and worried about finishing my schoolwork and readings for my coming classes. I was sad that I was missing the field trip to the mountains and a Buddhist meditation retreat.

On the fifth day my fever had broken and I needed to get out of the hospital. My blood platelet count was at an all time low and the doctors recommended that I stay for a few more days. I couldn’t do that. I called in a nurse and begged her to take the I.V. out of my hand. The hospital finally realized that I was leaving, whether they liked it or not.

I have been out of the hospital for about a week now. I still do not feel totally well. My head is still rather fuzzy and I have developed a ringing in my ears. I do not have body aches anymore, but I feel weak, and get exhausted easily. I know that sometimes Dengue Fever cause hemorrhages in the brain, which causes brain damage. I am hoping my dizziness and hearing problems aren’t from brain damage. That’s all I need.

I always had the feeling that I would get Dengue one day. It is like playing Russian Roulette every time I get bit by a mosquito. I am always that person who has 50 mosquito bites, and no one else is bitten. Mosquitoes are harbingers of imminent doom.

Travel to 20 Countries

2008-11-23T18:49:00.000-08:00

The other day looking through my passport I started counting the countries I have visited. I realized I have been to 20, excluding my home country. The Bahamas, Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama, Ecuador, Morocco, Gibraltar, Spain, Portugal, France, Italy, the Vatican (politically this is a country, although this feels like cheating to count), the UK, India, China, Taiwan, and now Thailand.

(Me with my beloved passport)

Most of these countries I have visited in the past 3 years. How have I moved through the world so fast? I hope it is worth it. I hope I will remember all of my stories.

I have gotten to a point where I don’t know how to place myself anymore. A few weeks ago Andy from hobotraveler.com wrote that I am going over the edge of no return. I am wondering if I really am too far gone and what does that mean? Am I now not normal? It is true I am not doing what most people my age in my country are doing, but would I rather be doing what they are doing? They all seem miserable, confused, jaded and bored. They have crappy jobs, hate school, drink too much, hate their parents, hate the world. I wouldn’t want to be any of those things in a million years. Somehow my parents instilled me with a reverence for the eccentric. Am I well on my way there? Are my travels a journey through the world or through myself? Here’s to becoming an eccentric.

Eating Bugs in Thailand

2008-11-23T00:30:00.000-08:00

So somehow I developed a dream to eat big bugs in Thailand. I think I saw it on a travel program or something and have wanted to try it ever since. The other night after dinner a few friends and I bought 2 large bottles of Chang beer and 3 plastic bags full of different types of bugs; one of grub looking things, one of fat crickets, and one of locusts. The bugs were sold a street vendor on Khao San Road. She drenched the fried insects in soy sauce and sprinkled them with salt. We returned to our guest house, cracked our beers and spread our snacks on the table.

We each grabbed a huge locust from the bag, said cheers across the table and popped them into our mouths. I crunched into the savory little bugger, trying not to gag on the legs touching the back of my throat. I chewed through the exoskeleton and washed it down with a swig of beer.

(Eating Bugs with friends Brittany and Adam in Thailand)

The locusts weren’t half bad. Once you got over the fact that the bug was still intact with face, organs and legs, they seemed like a tasty bar snack. The grub things were a little harder to stomach. I kept calling them “butt worms.” They reminded me of maggots or intestinal worms too much. This summer I had dug up grubs like this doing archaeology. I remembered squishing them in my screen and thinking they looked like alien babies. The crickets were ok, but not as tasty as the locusts. In all, the bag of locusts was almost entirely devoured throughout the night, but the grubs lay mostly untouched. It was an interesting experience. Now I don’t have to try them again, haha.

Bangkok Experience in a Nut Shell

2008-11-10T01:50:00.000-08:00

Bangkok is a weird place, hippies, loud techno music or Bob Marley, hippie clothes, way too many backpackers, getting dreads on the street, tattoo parlors, guys picking up girls, girls picking up guys, no bars without prostitutes, pad Thai noodles, rickshaw drivers popping their mouths about ping-pong shows, huge bowls of fruit and yoghurt, cute white guys, cute Thai guys, seedy back alleys, half-Chinese half-Thai food with raw eggs, new language, street people one block off the beaten path, Pakistani pick-up lines, book stores, spice, bride shops, huge bottles of beer, new love (potentially though scary and a little too soon), old friends, frustration, compromises, rolled cigarettes, millions of 7-11’s, minty sniffers, rain and slippery sidewalks, nice women, mean women, nightlife, lady boys, distraction, excitement, Buddhist wats, prostrations to a golden Buddha, jasmine, orchids, marigolds, and lotus, incense, trying to light a candle in the wind, a “father figure,” eating bugs, missing home, still healing, Voldemort, dance parties to 90’s pop music, zombies, eating brains, sensuality.

Travel to Thailand

2008-11-08T06:08:00.000-08:00

Thailand Thailand Thailand. I am no longer in Taiwan, at all. I still have so much I want to write about Taiwan, but I feel like after just one week in Thailand I have completely forgotten Taiwan. I really loved Taiwan. It was a very livable place, good people, good food, good life. But in a way I am really happy to be away from Taiwan. I needed a change of scenery. I am happy to be out of my dungeon in Sinjuang. That room was driving me so crazy that I was starting to feel trapped. Life seemed inaccessible sitting at my desk in the dark corner next to my dark, sunless window open only to a loud mechanical noise and a musty mildew smell.

I went through a really hard time in Taiwan. I lost a lover, lost a friend, got really bored, got confused, cried, starved, spent too many hours lying awake in the sleepless dark. Thailand has given me a chance to move on. I don’t have to think about all my bad feelings anymore. The newness of the country has made me forget the oldness of my life.

After only one week in Thailand I am in love with the country. Each country always has a different feel, a different sensation of potential. Some places are calm, lonely, places where you just want to lock yourself in a room and study, some are romantic, some are boring, some are fun. Thailand is fun. Thai people are fun. I was really surprised when I came to Thailand. I was expecting it to be a little uncomfortable, to face the word “farang” countless times, to be ripped off, to be lonely, to hate all the hippie pot-smoking tourists with backpacks. I am finding it a lot better than expected. Thai people are just generally cool, almost in the sense of the American cool. I have already met tons of young Thai people who just hang out, play guitar on the street, artists, coolly dressed, cool hair, cool everything. It’s happening in Thailand.

Short Dick Man in Taiwan

2008-10-19T04:28:00.000-07:00

Cramped in a minivan with the rest of the CRC students we are speeding dangerously down curvy mountains roads. The Taiwanese driver is blasting bouncy club DJ music. I am dancing out of boredom of the long trip. Suddenly, I recognize English words singing from the speakers. I am shocked. Is she really saying that? I tell the other students to listen, lest my ears deceive me.

“Teeny weeny shriveled little short d!ck man. Don’t want no short d!ck man,” wails the singer with a harsh Queens accent. We burst out laughing. The driver is joyfully grooving to the beats. I wonder does he know the words?

I have had similar experiences around the world where I encounter people listening to profane English songs. I wonder if they would like the song if they knew what the words mean. Do they play these songs in English speaking countries? This is just plain silliness. Do I dance to songs like this in other languages that I don’t understand? After the short dick man song ended another song in Chinese started. I was still dancing, but with caution. What were the lyrics? Are profane lyrics common in Chinese songs?

I have now had this ridiculous song stuck in my head for weeks. It is a really catchy tune. With a little research I found a clip of it on YouTube, which I have added to this post. I guess it was a big hit song in the 90's.

I don't think the youtube.com video is working so here is the url: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IX380vS_Mzs

How to Chew Beetle Nut

2008-10-15T02:19:00.000-07:00

I am realizing that Taiwanese people love to share their culture. They love to give me all kinds of exotic things to try. I was sitting outside of my hotel in Alishan when a Taiwanese tourist stopped to take an interest in me. I was eating a “mountain tomato,” a red fruit with slimy frog egg seeds.

The man gestured that I was eating it completely wrong and showed me the correct way. He then began pulling them out of his pocket one after the other and distributing them to the CRC students. I don’t know how he could have been hording so many fruits in his pockets.

To eat the fruit, you roll it around in your palms, massaging the insides away from the skin. Then you bite off the top and suck it out like a baby suckling a breast. The man was laughing hilariously as we did this, probably because of this sexual connotation. He continued to dish out fruits at an alarming rate. After I ate about 4 I couldn’t handle it anymore. I refused a fruit and instead, he shoved a large thing directly into my mouth, mid-sentence, with his dirty fingers. Wow! I took it out to examine it before I consumed any old thing from dirty fingers.

(Red teeth from a mouth full of beetlenut...not my most stunning photographic moment.)

It looked like a green acorn wrapped in a fresh shiny leaf. He pointed to his red teeth, and I realized, this is a beetle nut. It is used like chewing tobacco, that you crunch up and let rest along the gum line. The man urged me to chew it, as his friends jokingly punched him for being such a bad influence on the mei guo ren.

I have always wanted to try beetle nut, but have also been a little afraid of it. It is highly addictive and stains the teeth bright red. All over Asia there are vermillion stained toothy smiles, like the owner of the smile is a vampire.

(Spit from chewing beetlenut...a little gross)

I chewed up the nut which exploded with bitter-sweet juices in my mouth. I was unsure of the proper chewing procedure, so I just chewed uncontrollably, slurping my spittle all over the place. My bus was about to leave, so I hurried up the hill, leaving my generous friend. As I passed the vendors, an uproar of laughter rolled along with me as fingers pointed to my crimson mouth.

(Chewed up piece of beetle nut after I was finished)

When I crested the hill, I could feel the effects of the beetle nut. My blood was coursing through my body like a machine gun. I had a surge of energy and my head felt dizzy. WOW! This definitely is a stimulant. After just five minutes of chewing, I could tell why it is so addictive. I chewed the nut for the duration of the bus ride and actually really relished it. I think I will have to stay away from beetle nut though, because I do not need red teeth or more addictions.

(My red tongue after chewing beetlenut)

AndrogynousTaiwanese Teens

2008-10-14T10:15:00.000-07:00

I keep seeing Taiwanese young people and wondering if they are male or female. This is weird. Androgyny seems to be a big thing here. Boys are dressed like fashion models and wear lots of pink shirts. Some girls are wearing baggy boy’s clothing. Most Asian girls have small breasts so often I can barely see them poking out of their baggy boys shirts. I tend to distinguish gender through breasts, if there are no other signs. Lots of young people here have androgynous hairstyles, heavily gelled with hair care products.

I am wondering why so many girls dress like boys here. Someone told me there is a rising number of gays in Asia, or rather that it is more acceptable to be gay so they do not have to hide it. Are these boyishly dress girls lesbians? Or is it just a popular fashion style to dress like a boy?

Eating Pomelos in Taiwan

2008-10-13T05:54:00.000-07:00

Breaking habitual patterns part II:

I bought a bunch of huge fruits which I don’t know the name of, but which I call “heads.” I think it might be a pomelo or something to that effect. They are about the same size as a head. They are kind of like an overgrown grapefruit, but with very thick skin and a very sweet taste.

In China I would always share these with someone. They are too big for one person to eat alone. We would walk to a little corner fruit stall at night, purchase a head from the fruit boy and happily carry the heavy head home anxious to dig into the sweetness. At home we would wash and peel the fruit. Then, placing it in a bowl, we would share slices while we watched movies or did school work. It was a special ritual.

Now I have all of these heads. They have been sitting on my refrigerator for the past week. I couldn’t bring myself to eat one all alone. They have too much meaning behind them for me.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Break the cycle. I think I am finally going to delve into my sweet fruit and enjoy eating it all by myself.

Photos of the Pomelos and a little inspiration.

(How to peel a pomelo.)

(Inside of a pomelo.)

(Enjoying the sweet fruit.)

Taiwanese Stinky Tofu Restaurants

2008-10-11T21:32:00.000-07:00

The other night I had a food adventure. I like to try new things, just to know what they are like, just to have the experience. I have a friend here who is the same way. We were starving, so together we went searching through a Taiwanese night market for some grub, almost literally.

We stopped at a stall where a man with beetlenut reddened, crooked teeth was selling various Taiwanese snacks. He had a pile of tasty looking bright green soybeans. With salivary glands fully functioning, we ordered up a bag. Seemingly happy that foreigners were patronizing his booth, he wanted to share his oriental delights with us. He handed out samples of everything for us to try. It started with a rubbery brown ring. I took a bite. It was squid soaked in sweet soy sauce, and probably by far the most succulent squid I have ever eaten. He then handed us a white slice that almost looked like a piece of Swiss cheese. I crunched into the juicy treat. It was some sort of pickled vegetable flavored with a delicious gingery sauce. We paid his about $1 USD and he gave us a huge bag of soybeans. They were scrumptiously marinated in peppery vinaigrette, light, crisp, and fresh. We munched on our snack and continued our search.

We stopped in front of a stinky tofu restaurant. You can smell a stinky tofu place from a mile away, with its foul odor like the grimiest barroom men’s bathroom, or a port-o-potty that has been left to stew and fester in the hot summer sun for weeks. I think there is a common saying about stinky tofu that goes something like, “Smells like a bathroom, but tastes heavenly.”

Everyone in Taiwan that I meet asks if I have eaten stinky tofu, so I decided to be brave and finally try the malodorous stuff. We also ordered a bowl of soup to even out our meal, hoping that if the tofu was a bust that the soup would be a safety back-up. Boy, were we wrong.
The tofu arrived at the table, fried crispy blocks drenched soy sauce and accompanied by a sprig of pickled cabbage. It didn’t smell that bad. I diligently picked up a cube with my chopsticks and raised it into my quivering mouth. It wasn’t as horrible as I thought, but it wasn’t as magnificent as claimed either. I swallowed, waited. The after taste was vile. Like the smell of a toilet was caught in my nasal passage, rising up from the sewer pipes of the back of my throat, rotting and clogged in my stomach. I bravely and politely continued to eat, just to fulfill my ravenous hunger.

The soup came. There were thin noodles suspended in a brown gelatinous broth. This was topped by strange slices of some sort unspecified organ and globular clear gray balls floating like brains in a Petri dish. I hesitantly picked up a “brain” with my chops sticks and popped it down the chute. Its sliminess squished between my teeth bursting with a fishy, unexpected taste. Was this a brain? Who’s brain? The whole soup tasted like fish, pungent and revolting. I do not like to waste food so I kept eating, or rather trying to swallow without chewing my cud. I was glad my friend was there so I did not have to finish the dishes on my own. I snuck some of my portion of the brains into her bowl when she wasn’t looking to sooth my gag reflexes. A Taiwanese woman was chatting with us at our table. She commended us on our courage. “Most foreigners do not eat at places like this.” I smiled gracefully and nodded, but in the back of my mouth my taste buds screamed, “I can taste why!”

When I returned home I viciously scrubbed my mouth with my toothbrush and a massive quantity of toothpaste to rid myself of the flavors. Yet, I still feel like I have the vile tastes imbedded on my tongue, emanating from my innards.

Prostitution in Taiwan

2008-10-10T05:31:00.001-07:00

I went for a midnight walk with a very cool friend. We needed to get out, and we needed some action. On our search we walked passed a “motel.” The sign was written out in bright pink fluorescent lighting which can be seen for miles around. We peeked in and noticed that it looked more like an auto-repair shop than a hotel. There were rows of garages closed tightly by steel doors.

A disheveled girl, barely clothed in a tight black dress hardly reaching the bottom of her butt cheeks, teetered out on bow-legs ending in silver high heels. She flashed me a sheepish grin.

(Love Motel Sign seen from my classroom window many blocks away.)

“Is this one of those ‘girly’ motels?” asked my friend.
“Let’s go in and ask for a room and see what they say,” I urged.

We stood outside for a few seconds debating this plan. A car drove out of a garage and another girl similarly dressed as the first, stumbled out of the lobby to collect money from the driver.

The car rolled forward a few more feet and stopped in front of me. It was filled with four Taiwanese men. They were all laughing and screaming along to blaring Chinese pop music. The driver noticed me and made the universal sign for sex, a pointer finger going through a hole made by the fingers of the other hand. He plunged his finger in and out and yelled, “Wicky wicky wicky!” The man floored the engine and hauled it down the street.

“I guess that answers that question,” I said. My friend and I ran away down the street holding hands and howling with laughter in the stale night air.
I didn’t know how to react to this encounter other than to laugh and think it was ridiculous. The world is just a succession of endless folly. I think many people might have been shocked or disgusted. All I could do was giggle. Prostitution is a huge part of Chinese culture. Who am I to judge?

I Promise I will Write

2008-10-09T08:28:00.000-07:00

Hi Readers,

Wow, I really like it that I can say that now. I'm really happy that people actually read me. Thanks!
Anyway, I just took a week vacation away from my computer. I went to Alishan and also a Zen Buddhist retreat center called Dharma Drum Mountain. I really needed to escape from the world for a little while. But, I feel bad that I haven't written in so long! I promise I will write tomorrow. I have a ton to write about my experiences in these places...and some funny stories.

XOXO,

Mira

Advice on Break-ups

2008-10-01T23:23:00.000-07:00

My father is a saint. He is the most intelligent, insightful and wise person I have ever met. I really needed his fatherly wisdom and this is what he told me. This is advice that I think would be helpful to anyone trying to get over a relationship.
I called my dad in my time of need, and he, of course, was there for me, to give me a spiritual teaching on what I am going through right now. He gives me strength to move on through life and keep walking the red road towards my center. It was so amazing that I desperately tried to type it out as he was talking to me. So, this is merely fragments of our conversation, but I think it focuses on most of the important stuff. The spaces are places that were left out of our conversation and signify mostly, a topic change. I am posting this because I really hope it can help someone else out in their times of sorrow and loss. It needs to be shared. This is my father’s discourse on love:

You are a warrior and you act like a warrior.
I’m a warrior and warriors do not gobble other people up. Warrior’s are not predatory. Most people are predatory though. They struggle with power.
………………
You guys were very close. You were very close in astrological signs, maybe too close. You should really get your astrology chart done to find out who is in your house of partners. This might help you out in the future when you meet people to know instantly who is compatible with you.
……………………
In a relationship you need something that is balanced. It can’t be too much one way or the other.
I have the feeling it is time to move on. The relationships we had in the fourth world have to be left behind. We are in the fifth world now, and a lot of old relationships will have to break. Relationships that aren’t bearing fruit.
Too many times I was putting out for them and they were betraying me in a way.
In a way this is good. It forces you to move on. You are on a river. You keep flowing.
Some of this we have some control of and some of it is spirit.
The creator has certain goals. It is deeper than we think it is.
You have to realize that in the beginning, middle and end you moved properly. A warrior is always impeccable.
You made the effort and did what your heart told you to do. If I don’t have the heart to be everything to everyone I don’t go out that door.
When you turn that switch on that is your light bulb. All you are doing is shining.
………………………….
You could forgive him, but Love is a one shot deal. Its fire away. I was never good with repeat business. It doesn’t work.
But it doesn’t diminish the fullness of it at the time. You shouldn’t feel tarnished. You did nothing to tarnish yourself.
You’ve gotta know that at the end of the day. At the end of the day you have to know you did everything right.
You can’t expect people to be something that they aren’t.
Think of what you were then and what you are now. You did a lot of growing. You were a lot younger.
But you didn’t ever go off your center, or step off your path. You did what was right to your heart. What if you had become his crazed f*cked up dependent servant. You would probably wanna shoot yourself.
You can’t beat yourself up. You were like a cat. You were independent.
………………..
The amount of self control someone has is what it is. You give it your best shot and you move on. You do it one at a time. If you ever do 2 people that is dishonest. It is dishonest to the heart and to yourself. That love relationship is for you. Meher Baba says I love everyone for everyone else, but I love Mehera for myself.
You have to get that word forgiveness in your mind. You might have to see him when you live in New York next semester. You are going to have to forgive him. Because that is the basis for community.
……………..
It doesn’t matter now. It is all about who you are. It is about your responsibility at the end of the day and taking care of yourself. I know you have a problem taking care of yourself because you are a nice person and want to take care of everyone else. It is about your heart. You have to follow your heart. Sometimes your heart wants different things but you always have to follow your heart.
……………………
You were completely dead honest with the whole thing and yourself.
When you find love it is not just sleeping with friends anymore.
I had a friend I slept with once. We slept together but we were never in love like that. Then years and years later I met up with her again and she started falling in love with me.
If she was gonna fall in love with me she should have done it 18 years ago. I had to run away because it just wasn’t right.
………………..
You don’t find love that much. It is something that comes to you and you can’t control it.
But you also can’t toy with people. You can’t be the baboon girl throwing your pussy around.
……………….
You should never meet anyone more than half way. There has to be a bridge. You both have to meet in the middle of the bridge. And they really have to make a bridge to you. It can’t always just be one person or the other.
………………
He has gone from being your significant other to being your brother. It is one of the white buffalo calf’s ceremonies on relationships. Relationships can change.
………………………….
You know, you can move from the friend ladder to the lover ladder easily. But it is harder the other way around. If you go to the lover ladder you can’t go back to the friend ladder.
………………………
Spirit will guide you.
Love isn’t hard to figure out. You don’t have to use logic. You have to follow your heart and you can’t let your head think about it too much.
Meher Baba said he came to put the supremacy of the heart over the head.
………………………
You will feel powerful, and then you will attract whoever you are supposed to attract. You don’t have any strings attached anymore.
He may have been in love with his sister. You are so like his sister and he is so like your father. But the same resonance of those relationships weren’t there.
……………………………
Relationships are like fire. With fire you don’t get another chance. Fire is burning, passion, the east, air, Christ energy.
You’re walking along. You’re walking the red road and keep moving.
You have to reinvent yourself. This is another message to you to be yourself. And it says how little you can expect anything from anyone. You can’t ever expect anyone to go one way or the other.
Are you prepared to live without expectations?
The past is gone and the future isn’t here. You shouldn’t be trying to look into the future. Those things are all planned by spirit.
The only way to get through something like karma is to really love someone. You don’t know how many life times you have lived with him before. Who knows what your karma was.
And you really loved him. This is a way to break the karma. The only way to break through karma is through love. Love is all you need. But then it releases you from that cycle. You really loved him and now you can move on through the cycle.
…………………..

Catholic Filippinos in Taiwan

2008-09-28T03:29:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I went to a Catholic Church of immigrants from the Philippines. I did not know that people in the Philippines were Christians, but I found out that it is about the most practiced religion in the Philippines.

They went through the basic Catholic service common in a Catholic church. However, the priest spoke in English especially for us for half of the sermon. The rest of the sermon and prays were in Tagalog, the national language of the Philippines. What struck me as strange we that certain words they used were in Spanish. They used the words dios (God), Espiritu Santo (Holy Spirit) La madre Maria (Mother Mary), and Jesu Christo (Jesus Christ). They had not translated these words into their own language. Are there equivalent words in Tagalog?

I imagine that these words are a result of Spanish missionaries converting the heathens hundreds of years ago. It was interesting to see such a strong Spanish influence on the Filipino culture. Colonialism.

Everyone at the congregation was very friendly and welcoming. After the service there was a birthday party for the priest and we were all invited to attend. They had prepared a few Filipino dishes and also had pizza and tuna fish sandwiches.

For a few of the students, this visit was a shocking experience. Most of the students grew up with Christian parents. Many of them have totally revolted from the Christian faith. It is interesting that the students have been so open to participation in Daoist Temples and Buddhist temples, but were so averse to participating in this Catholic Church. Why are travelers so averse to their own culture? Why are we so much more willing to participate in cultures other than our own? Are other travelers like this, or only those from the USA?

Baby Kitten

2008-09-27T07:33:00.000-07:00

(We named her Bodhi. She is a little Buddha speaking no evil, seeing no evil and hearing no evil.)

Baby Kitty,
Born into this here harsh world. Like we all are. On Cold tile enclosed by bright white walls.
Momma left you on the steps.
Welcome to the world.
Abandoned.
I feel you today.
I was in a warm womb this morning.
Then I got ripped out, and abandoned in the freezing, rainy real world alone, blind.
Umbilical cord hanging out of your belly button still connected on one end, but severed on the other.
The attachment is still there, physically laid out on the floor for everyone to see, shriveling. Vulnerable.
All the wanting in the world cannot reconnect this wounded appendage.
The same woman found us both today crying on the white tile floor all messy and snotty and wet from crying about how our attachments were laid out before us and the other beings of our umbilical cords, our sustenance, had gnawed off their attachment to us. She scooped us both up into her arms as a surrogate mother.
Maybe love should not be a physical attachment to the body.
Maybe love ultimately has to be something deeper.
If a mother can leave her kit maybe there is no unconditional love.
Maybe there is only conditional love.
Or maybe if it hurts too much to love another that we gnaw off the painful part and leave love behind.

The National Palace Museum in Taiwan

2008-09-25T08:32:00.000-07:00

I went to the National Palace museum here in Taiwan. This museum is a world renowned museum of Chinese artifacts. During the Communist Revolution in China one of the missions of the Commies was to destroy antiques. Antiques and art were part of the “Four Olds” which the Commies said promoted feudalism and inequality. Fortunately while people were fleeing from China to Taiwan, they brought along many of these artifacts which now reside in the National Palace Museum in Taipei.

I was incredibly excited to visit this museum. I love Chinese art and furniture. As an anthropologist and archaeologist I think old junk is awesome. When I was studying in China, Wade and I often discussed going to Taiwan specifically to visit the museums here. A lot of people visit Taiwan just to do that.

(Outside of the National Palace Museum in Taiwan)

Before I left for the museum I got my camera all ready. I made space on my memory card and loaded my bag with extra batteries. I was ready to take photos of all these ancient treasures. However, when I arrived I found out that photography was not allowed in the museum. NO PHOTOS PLEASE read signs posted all over the entrance way. Woe is me! I came all this way, to the other side of the world and I couldn’t even photograph anything. My memory isn’t very good, so I like to take photos so later on in life I can remember what I did and saw. I guess I will not be able to remember this museum very well.

I walked around the museum aimlessly, checking out the general lay of the land. There were only a few rooms on each floor. I thought I must be missing something, so I walked around again. I didn’t find anything else that I hadn’t already seen. It was a little weird to me that this was considered one of the best museums in the world. There were not too many exhibits and there were not many artifacts on display. In fact, I think the University of Penn’s Archaeology and Anthropology museum may have more Chinese artifacts.

(A Chinese Lion Sculpture Guarding the National Palace Museum in Taiwan)

The one thing I was amazed about was how old the Chinese culture is. In the museum there were axes, jewelry, and other relatively sophisticated tools displayed dated from around 4,000 B.C.E. This is old! Paralleled to culture in Americas, the Chinese were way more advanced. In Honduras I was working on a Mayan site where their technology was basically at the same stage as the 4,000 B.C.E. Chinese, but this site only dated back to around 700 C.E. The Mayan civilization as a whole really didn’t start developing until the first or second century C.E. Why were the Chinese so much more advanced than other civilizations? I am going to read more about Chinese history and archaeology now.

Taiwan and China Racism

2008-09-24T02:10:00.000-07:00

Taiwan is not China, China is not Taiwan, but both are Chinese. China is the People’s Republic of China and Taiwan is the Republic of China. I do not fully understand the political situation of China and Taiwan. The most I can comprehend is that China thinks Taiwan is a part of China, but Taiwan does not think they are a part of China. The Taiwanese have their own government, so they should be considered their own government. But international organizations like the UN and the World Bank do not consider Taiwan a country. Is this right? Can anyone better explain this to me? How can they be a separate country, but not be viewed as a separate country?
At the Government Information Office in Taipei a man told me that Taiwan is not internationally recognized by the world as a separate country. He said that it has to do with trade. China says if anyone does business with Taiwan that China will not do business with that country. So, since China is larger and richer in resources, countries choose trade with China over trade with Taiwan.
I also don’t understand this because Taiwan does tons of business all over the world. For example the company ASUS that makes EEEPC is a Taiwanese company, and you can buy these computers all over the world. I do not understand economics. I do not understand the China Taiwan relationship.

(Wade from www.vagabondjourney.com and I with Chinese girls in China.)

For more pictures from China Visit my Travel Photos blog at travelerphotos.blogspot.com

Taiwanese people, I am finding, really do not like China. This is hard for me to grasp. I like China. I spent 5 months in China. To me, Taiwan is very similar to China in a lot of ways, food, culture, language, stores, products, music, etc. Since I am familiar with China I want to compare Taiwan to China. This is coming out in my conversations with Taiwanese people, and I don’t know how they are receiving it.
I was talking to three Taiwanese boys and I was a little shocked how they reacted when I spoke about China, and how they thought of China and Chinese people. The boys asked me if I liked Chinese food and if I had ever tried stinky tofu. I said that I liked the food in China. I told them I had stinky tofu in China and it wasn’t very good, so I want to try it again in Taiwan. They all kind of snickered.
They replied, “We think food in China is dirty.”
Then they told me that they all wanted to study in the USA and asked if there were a lot of Chinese students in the USA. I told them that there were, and I also described China town. I really love China town in Philadelphia. I thought the idea that there are communities of Chinese people from all of greater “China” (Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, Singapore, etc.) would comfort them. I thought they would like the idea that there were places in America where they would feel at home. I was wrong.
They replied, “But we do not like Chinese people.” They do not want to talk to Chinese people, even in America.
Then we discussed their plans for after college. I was wondering what schools in America they would like to go to, or what they would like to study, or what career they would do after they graduated. They told me first they must do mandatory military service. I replied, “It is a good thing Taiwan is not at war with anyone.”
They said, “Yes, but Taiwan has lots of problems with China.”
Does Taiwan still fight with China? Is there a war going on somewhere between them that I do not know about?
Their anti-Chinese attitude was very startling to me. In America we are raised to be anti-racist, and most people will not make such brutal statements about the people of other countries. Maybe with the war, now people openly make these statements about Iraqis and Muslims, but still for the most part Americans are taught not to express hate. I want to talk to more Taiwanese about this issue. And I guess I need another history lesson.

Culture through the eyes of a Traveler

2008-09-22T06:20:00.000-07:00

Loaded words. Everyone is trying so hard to be politically correct. People from the United States try to be very politically correct. We are taught not to be racist, not to judge, and above all, that everyone is created equally. I think sometimes it is hard to travel, or continue to travel, or see many many many different cultures and continue to think this. I am not saying one becomes racist, or hates humanity, but that a travel gains a sense that people are created differently. I am not saying that any human being lacks potential. I am saying enculturation and socialization of any given civilization or country really shapes a person. Maybe we are all created equally, but we are shaped differently. Traveling and studying anthropology changes how one views the world, and often destroys many ideals and preconceptions of humanity.

Thinking on the Alan Cornes text Culture From the Inside Out, his identification of different traveler stereotypes really struck a chord in me. I think when most people start to travel they are the “Please like me” sojourner. This is a person who thinks everyone is friendly and should get along. They are very trusting, think people need help, think they can help the people, etc. They have a politically correct view point, and maybe not a realistic view point of the world. Andy is not this person.

Today I spent time with Andy from hobotraveler.com. He has been traveling steadily for over 10 years to about 77 countries he says. The kind of traveling he does is NOT normal. He does not have a home. He is constantly traveling from one country to the next. There is no going home. He does not do the normal tourist things either. He is not on a constant vacation. He doesn’t go to a country to go ziplining through the Amazon, or see a particular tourist sight. For this reason, he usually does not go to normal tourist destination. He does however interact with the people more than I have ever seen anyone else while traveling. He talks to everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, or all sexes, male, female, and even the lady boys of Thailand.

He has learned to live a different way than most people. He has had to develop different skills, and a different set of rules to view the world. With this he brings a lot of insight. He cannot be politically correct. Simply, he would not be able to continue traveling if he did this. He has an ability to see the world in a unique light.

With this he brings a lot of insight. He cannot keep many traits that are a part of USA culture. He cannot be an idealist. He cannot completely believe that all humans were created equally, or at least shaped equally. With having such a broad view of such a myriad of cultures this just is not possible. He has learned just how different cultural morals, ideals, values, religions, customs and life is around the world. There is no standard.

So, Andy is an interesting person to listen to. His commentary on the world often forces the listener to stretch their world view in ways that are often uncomfortable. Tonight he was introduced to other students on the CRC program. As he talked, I watched their eyes widening and their bodies shaking with what he said. Some of his opinions can be so shattering that you feel the effects racking through your body. Your own view of the world begins shaking and causing a deep feeling, often putrid in a way, like you are about to throw up. In a sense, one does throw up as they regurgitate their cosmovision in words, in a response, almost so physically that the words seem to spill out onto the table, thick and heavy, maybe gruesome.
I think one of the hardest things about talking to Andy is that he speaks the truth. Or maybe, let me phrase it a little differently. He speaks in a way coming from a person who has dealt with over 77 different cultures for an extended period of time, in a way that he tries to present as unbiased by cultural standards of politeness or politically correctness. Maybe this is hard for me to explain and formulate into words. His words often scream, “the fact of the matter is…”

For example he was talking about “factories in foreign countries.” To many, this equates to sweat shops. Andy has probably seen and been inside and talked to more people who work in “factories” around the world than all of the CRC students combined. He has a huge repertoire of experiences that he can use as a comparative study of “factories” around the world. He is thinking of starting a “factory” to produce backpacks. He is thinking of putting this factory in a country other than the USA or Europe.

In one students mind, this equated to “sweat shop.” He fully knows that his reason for his factory’s location IS based on cheaper wages. In our USA encultured mind this means sweat shop. Sweat shop means bad. That means Andy must be bad. Basic reaction.

“What about the worker’s rights? Why don’t you pay them decent wages?” The student asks. I could literally witness their reaction welling of from the core of their belief system, like a shock radiating out until it reached her mind and her words bounced out.

Andy knows this is a loaded question. Andy knows his own culture, and how his own culture views the world.

He responds in a very matter of fact way. “I know what you think, and I do try to pay my workers better wages. But you have to look at the implications and effects of my actions. I am going to another country where they have a different set of standards. Have you ever been to a factory or so called “sweat shop?” Did the workers look like they didn’t want to be there? Would there be happier if they weren’t there? What else would they do? Is there anywhere else they could work? I want to pay my workers fairly, so I pay them 25% more than the average daily wages of the country. I cannot pay them more than that or else it would be culturally insensitive. It would not work. I would be viewed as a rich a$$hole. If I pay them less than what is fair, I will be exploiting them. By paying them a little more it makes everybody happy, but I cannot pay them too much more or else it would cause problems. People in other countries want to work. If I build a factory somewhere and put people to work I am creating a job for them, a way for them to make a living.”

Does this make sense to American culture? Does it make sense in the world? He thinks giving people work and paying them a little more than they would normally earn is a good thing.

Andy likes people. Andy’s motto is “life is good.” Andy likes the world. Andy thinks the world is good and doing just fine. Andy is happy. How many people can say that?
Where does travel really take the traveler? Are travelers merely visiting other cultures and countries or are they visiting a place inside themselves? Sometimes travel shakes darkness inside a person and stirs up hidden feelings and beliefs. It urges us to take a look from another person’s eyes, even if that view is so contradictory to our own sunglasses that it is uncomfortable and painful. This reevaluates our own cultures, and sometimes wipes off the dust that may have built up on our sunglasses, or prescribes a totally new prescription lens altogether. The world rocks the traveler’s “world.”

Learning Mandarin Chinese in Taiwan

2008-09-20T22:42:00.000-07:00

Learning a language is difficult. It happens in stages. It is a gradual process that sometimes kills. I am at a frustrating point in learning Mandarin. I started studying Mandarin over a year ago. I took one class and then stopped, due to certain circumstances and the end of my semester. I gained a basic knowledge of Mandarin in my class, the grammar structure and a very small, limited vocabulary. This is an extremely frustrating point to get over. I started practicing the language again this summer. The material that I had previously learned came back to me quickly, but I am finding it hard to now progress pass that point.

I know some basic phrases that seem helpful, but can also be a burden. A woman who works at the dorms where I am staying tries to communicate with me. She seems very friendly and sweet and I wish I could tell her that. She asks me a lot of questions in Chinese and I wish I could understand her. I can’t. I try, but I can’t. I do know enough Mandarin to tell her that I do not understand. I wish I didn’t know how to say this. By telling her in Mandarin that I don’t understand, I am also ultimately telling her that I do speak some Mandarin. I feel like she thinks, can I just not understand her or what? It makes me feel like I am acting arrogantly. Like, she may think I just do not want to talk to her, maybe she thinks I don’t want to talk to her because she is Taiwanese or a maid or maybe her Mandarin isn’t good and she has a country accent.

I don’t want her to think this. I wish I could tell her all of this. I do not want to be culturally insensitive. I can see why people may view foreigners in a negative light. It is understandable.
Now I feel very shy when she is around, which also may be interpreted as being arrogant. I don’t know what to do in this situation. I think if I do not understand someone from now on it may be better to just shake my head rather than tell them in Mandarin that I do not understand. I don’t know.

Another problem I am having is that I know how to ask a lot of questions in Mandarin. I can ask how much something costs, if a store has something I want, or ask directions. My problem is that I cannot understand the answer. Particularly when I ask for directions, this is frustrating. They can say the directions all they want, but I will not understand. I just get confused and realized I shouldn’t have asked for directions in the first place.

I need to practice some more phrases in Mandarin and learn some more useful vocabulary. Hopefully I can break out of this stage of learning the language, and move on.

Taiwanese Instant Noodles

2008-09-14T22:41:00.000-07:00

I love ramen cup of noodles. I know it is a little disgusting, but I do love them. There is something really satisfying about eating them. They are also EXCELLENT for getting rid of hang-overs.

I was really excited to be in Taiwan so I could eat lots of cup of noodles without being such a weirdo. AND they have about a million different varieties of them here, and just about everywhere has hot water, making them an easy snack or lunch.

(Package of Taiwan Cellophane noodles)

Anyway, I stocked up on some cup of noodles just in case the typhoon made it too difficult to leave my dorm. When I went to the grocery store last night it was being torn apart by millions of young Taiwanese. I could hardly make my way around the narrow aisles. Everyone must have had the same idea. When I got to the cup of noodle aisle (yes, they is a whole aisle in the grocery store designated to cup of noodles, also known as heaven) the supply had been horded. My favorite kind of noodles was all gone, pillaged in a typhoon, noodle buying frenzy. There were only a few kinds of noodles left that I had never tried before. There was an entire shelf of noodles, in fact, that no one had touched. I wondered why no one had bought these noodles. My friend took one look at them and said, “Those look nasty, that’s why!” I thought the picture looked just like all the other noodles package pictures so I bought them. I had to buy something. And did I mention I love noodles?

So today during the wind and rain and storm I was very excited when it came lunch time, noodle eating time. I open my package and, to my dismay, realized why no one wanted these noodles. They were cellophane noodles, thin, clear, wormy noodles made out of god knows what. They are called cellophane. Does that mean plastic or something? I will have to look up what they are made out of. I don’t know.

I have a strong aversion to this type of noodle. When I was a child my mother really loved to make seaweed soup with this type of noodle and tofu. As an American child, of course, I was not into this. Something about the texture of the weird clear noodle was appalling to me. Now, as an adult I was again faced with the noodle, and soon discovered that the broth was seaweed flavored as well. Of course I ate the noodles. I do not like to waste food. But from now on I am going to examine my noodles a little more closely. I need to look up the characters for cellophane noodles to prevent further eating of these noodles.

Blogger Community in Taiwan

2008-09-14T22:37:00.000-07:00

I have never really considered myself to be a part of the “blog-o-sphere.” I don’t even really know what that is. I just like writing on my travel blog. I haven’t really contacted too many other bloggers before. In my typhoon cabin-fever I started searching for other blogs on Taiwan. I read some posts, and looked at some amazing photos from the Taiwan bloggers. I left a few comments on some pages, and I am amazed at the responses. All the bloggers commented me back. They also invited me to a Taiwan bloggers community meet-up and posted me as a featured blog on Bloggers in Taiwan on taiwanblogs.blogspot.com. Wow! These are some really nice people. It is great to receive the friendliness of such a welcoming community. I just want to say thanks to all of you Taiwan bloggers!

Taiwanese Hospitality

2008-09-14T02:06:00.000-07:00

My first impression of Taiwanese people is that they are really nice and friendly. The average person seems to be very accommodating to my foreign face. When I enter a restaurant they are all smiles and make sure I am comfortable and treat me with the finest upright standards of respect. A group of friends and I went to a restaurant the other night where they cook the food up right in front of you. The owner was a spunky little lady with a huge generous smile. We were seated as soon as we got it. She didn’t think that the table was good enough, as it was far away from the food action. So she shooed off some customers to different seats to make room for us. She made sure we were comfortable by bringing us a steady flow of heaps of rice, cups of honey tea, and steaming bowls of soup broth to accompany our delicious meal.

I met one of my religions professors and he too seemed like one of the happiest, most generous people I have ever met. I don’t think I have ever met a person with such a bright sparkle in his eyes before. He was extremely excited to have the “honor” of teaching us. He also alerted us to many safety issues and told us where the best cheap restaurants are located. “Look five times when you cross the street here. It is very dangerous. Once I only looked twice before I crossed the street and I almost got killed,” he said.

I think I will like Taiwanese people. They know how to be good hosts. They are proud of their country and want to share it with foreigners. This is an honor to them. I think many people all over the world could learn from this kind of generosity and hospitality.

The Worst Game of Pool ever

2008-09-12T21:30:00.000-07:00

A few students and I went in search of KTV. KTV is karaoke, which is a pretty popular passtime in China and Japan. We walked for miles in all directions following signs leading us down dark alleys and through side street, but still no KTV was to be found. I was amazed how few bars and nightlife activities are located in this area. I am staying in Sinjhuang City, near the Fu Ren University. I would think that the place would be hopping considering it is around the campus of a university with several thousand students. I guess students here take homework and studying more seriously.

After our marathon search for KTV we settled on playing pool instead. There were three of us so we decided to play a game of high, mid, low under rules I had never heard before. Maybe they are crazy Bostoner rules (both of the other students were from Boston or there abouts). If a person scratched then the other 2 people got to remove 2 of their balls from the pockets. This made the game VERY slow. As soon as anyone hit any balls in, they were almost immediately taken out again. I have never played by these rules before and I think they are stupid.

At any rate, we soon realized that none of us are very good pool players. We could hardly get any balls in the pockets, though hard we did try. I think I turned out to be the best of the three, but that really isn’t saying much at all. The game went on and on for hours as we shot random balls around the table with no success. Our skills seemed to get worse as the game wore on. Balls were literally flying everywhere. The cue was bouncing out of the table, and instead of the balls being deposited into the pockets they would bounce out onto the floor. The table of Taiwanese pool players next to us began to get a little scared and worried by our behavior. They were jumping out of the way each time they heard our balls crashing, least they get hit with a stray. It was so utterly ridiculous that we had nothing else to do but howl with laughter. The balls just wouldn’t stay on the table, and we too were dropping to the floor rolling with giggles. The other problem was all of us would scratch on just about every turn. By the end we had to abandon all rules and we were merely all working as a team to knock ANY ball into a pocket.

I think our game took about 2 hours to complete, and then we shamefully ran out of the place. I don’t think anyone else in the world has ever played a worse game of pool.

Typhoon Sinlaku in Taiwan

2008-09-12T09:15:00.000-07:00

So today I was told that Taiwan is about to be hit by a huge Typhoon. It is Typhoon Sinlaku. I guess it has made its way almost all the way around the world from the same hurricane that hit the USA last week. What is a Typhoon anyway? I think it is a hurricane that comes from the Pacific. At any rate it is a lot of wind and a lot of rain. They are saying that when the Typhoon hits Taiwan it will be a category 3 or 4.

This messes up my plans. Andy from www.hobotraveler.com has come to Taiwan to visit me. Well, he says he came here to look for backpack materials, but I know he really likes me and just misses me a lot since Guatemala. Hahaha. At any rate, we had a date for tonight, but I didn’t want to go out into the rainy evening. It is really wet here. The wind is really, really strong as well. It also limits me from doing anything else I had planned, like exploring Taipei.

We are being told here to buy all kinds of food and to bunk down for the storm. They are expecting power outages and supposedly nothing will be open and there will be crazy debris flying through the air outside. We were even told to stay in rooms that have windows sheltered from the wind. (My window looks out into a sort of small crevice between two buildings, so I am safe.)

So I bought provisions of milk, cereal, cup of noodles, various Taiwanese snacks, beer and wine. Hopefully, if there is a terrible storm this weekend this will hold me over. I don't know what to expect though.

Bathrooms and Toilets in Taiwan

2008-09-11T17:15:00.000-07:00

I think bathrooms in other countries are interesting. They tell a lot about a culture, how clean they are, how social they are, how technologically advanced they are and all kinds of stuff. They are just neat to look at to see the different ways people thought up to do things. My bathroom in Taiwan has all kinds of strange things going on in it. First, the shower is a nozzle fixed on a long hose. The nozzle can be taken off the wall and used to spray all parts of the body in anyway you would like. There is no tub, or shower curtain or anything. The whole bathroom was designed so that it can be sprayed down with the shower hose.

(Shower hose in my bathroom in Taiwan)

There is a nifty little waterproof box that is made to keep the toilet paper dry. I guess if you are spraying your shower hose all over there is a huge potential for soggy toilet paper.

( water-proof Toilet paper holder)

Also, there are 2 flushers on the toilet. One says “da” which means big in Chinese and the other handle says “xiao” which means small in Chinese. So one handle is for large bowl-fulls and one is for small bowl-fulls. I thought this was funny how they used these words to describe the bodily functions. Haha. This probably does potentially save a lot of water and money though.

(Toilet in Taiwan, with flushers. The line with a dot on either side means "xiao" in Chinese, or small. The character that looks like a stick man with its arms spread means "da" in Chinese, or big.)

Interacting with Local People While Traveling

2008-09-11T08:11:00.000-07:00

Sitting in my room eating my breakfast instant noodles, I can hardly wait to go outside and explore. It is distracting, knowing there is so much outside, so many new scents and flavors and things and people.

I was sitting in the laundry room this morning where people come to throw away their trash or do laundry or use the water filter. The people come in and look at me funny, but don’t make eye contact or say hi…maybe they are use to living here and seeing lots of people coming and going. Ignoring me is as if to say, “I have see you before anyway, and you probably won’t be here for long.”

When things aren’t long term it makes people rude. People are only polite if they know they will have to see you again and again. People will only give you a fair price if they know you will come back to their store. I think this is kind of one of the reasons tourism has spoiled the world. The local people know these people aren’t coming back. What do they care if they are polite?

Taiwan Travel Blog

2008-09-10T18:48:00.000-07:00

Flight to Taiwan.
www.ladythetramp.com
I am tired. I left Philadelphia at 2 pm Sunday and did not arrive in Taipei until 5 AM on Tuesday. This is due partly to weird time zone discrepancies and to the fact that the flight is just plain long. I hate sitting on planes for a long time. It makes me feel dirty and smelly. You can’t ever sleep well on planes either.

9 AM today felt like 4 PM because I had been awake for so long. Now it is going on 6 PM and it feels like 6 AM. My body is all messed up and my mind doesn’t know what to think about it.

So far I really like Taiwan. Before coming I started getting anxious about all the scary stuff in China that got to me, people staring, people always laughing at you, and the utter strangeness of the foreign land. I am not feeling that in Taiwan. I feel very comfortable actually, very confident. Maybe just because I already know a little about the East this time.
Taiwan has a nice atmosphere to it. It is like China, but it also feels like an island. There are palm trees and something about the people and the building and everything, you can see that it is an island. It is warm and rainy here.

I walked around a little today and was joyful to see all the noodle restaurants, grubby and greasy, and the cheap junk shops, and the girls all dressed up in their little outfits. I went to a grocery store and bought some of my favorite Chinese snacks: dried tofu strips, wasabi peas, loose leaf green tea, drinkable yogurt and cups of instant noodles. I looked reminiscently on the cookie isle, remembering when Wade and I would devour huge packages of digestive cookies. I couldn’t find the ones we ate, so I didn’t get any though.

I can still understand a lot of Chinese, and I am proud of myself for that. I still have trouble speaking though, out of my bizarre, crippling shyness. I really like Taiwan so far. I can’t wait to go exploring some more.

Problems With the Internet in Taiwan

2008-09-09T03:29:00.000-07:00

So I just arrived in Taiwan. The accommodations I have a la my school have an Ethernet cable to connect my laptop to the internet. I am having some problems with this connection though. First, it wouldn’t let me sign into my hotmail account. I restarted my computer and then it let me sign into the account.

Now, for some reason I can’t sign into my gmail account. I have been trying for hours, and all that comes up is a blank screen that says “done.” It will let me type in my username and password, but when I try to sign it the screen just remains blank. I tried refreshing it over and over and still no luck.

Can someone help me out with this? I can’t figure it out. Does Taiwan have some kind of block on gmail? I know China has a lot of filters and blocks on internet access. I am wondering if Taiwan does too.

At any rate, I need someone to help so I can check me e-mail!

What to Pack while Traveling

2008-09-06T08:48:00.000-07:00

I am packing for my journey to Taiwan and Thailand. Packing is always nerve racking. What should I bring? Am I bringing too much stuff? Am I really going to need that? Is this all going to fit into my backpack?
As I travel more I get a better feel for what to bring and what not to bring. In my final days before my trip I usually whittle away at the stuff in my bag until I feel that it is acceptable to carry on my shoulders.
Here’s what is in my bag:
Clothing. Clothing is a hard one for me. I am a female. I like to look nice and or pretty. This is hard when traveling. Guys can wear any old thing and get away with it. Girls, not so much.
3 t-shirts
2 tank tops
1 long sleeve nice button down shirt
1 long sleeved “warm,” but light shirt
1 small little silk number to wear if I go out
2 pairs of pants
1 pair of Thai pants (for pajamas/ comfy pants)
1 short skirt and 1 long skirt
2 pairs of socks
5 pairs of underwear
1 scarf
1 sarong

This is more clothing than I normally bring, but this is what circumstances call for. I usually travel with less shirts and only 1 skirt. However, I will be going to school and visiting mosques and temples. This calls for a specific dress code. I can’t look like a vagabond. Also, while visiting mosques and temples I will need a long sleeved shirt to cover my arms and a long skirt to cover my legs. The scarf is good for cold weather and it can be added to outfits to look more funky/ sexy. The sarong is an absolute must. It has so many everyday uses that it becomes an essential part of my travel gear. I can use it as a towel, skirt, cover myself with it, use it on the beach, use it as a blanket, use it as a sheet, etc. I have a small water-proof, air tight bag which I shoved all of this into and scrunched down to make a small sort of owl pellet about 6 x 10 x 4 inches.

Shoes:
Shoes are also a hard one to decide on. Again, a girl can’t wear sneakers all the time. You need sturdy shoes to walk around in, but you also need shoes in case you have to dress up. But the dressy shoes have to be comfortable and casual enough to also wear them in other situation.
1 pair of sneakers
1 pair of cloth mary janes
1 pair of flip flops

The cloth mary janes can be squished down so they don’t take up much space. They are also really, really comfortable so I can walk around in them. The flip flops are good for communal showers, a sandal option, and they are comfortable to just throw on. The sneakers will probably be on my feet any time I am carrying my bag and are good for walking, hiking, bad weather conditions, etc.

Books:
Because I am in school I have to bring a ton of books with me. I am not too happy about this because it constitutes the majority of the weight in my pack. I have 6 books for school, Chinese/ English dictionary and 1 paperback for pleasure reading.

Miscellaneous/ Other Travel Necessities:
Laptop computer (I would like to get a smaller one, maybe an ASUS)
Camera (and camera attachment cords and batteries)
Toiletries: toothbrush, tooth paste, shampoo, soap, hair things, sunscreen, etc.
Water Filter (This really comes in handy in places where you can’t drink the water.)
Compass (So I know which way I am going on a map, and it has a compact mirror for the girls)
Journal (to write my thoughts, absolutely essential on any journey)
1 small backpack (To put my computer in and carry it in front when my other bag is on my back, or to use as a day pack. I suggest the smaller cloth ones, such as the basic jan sport model, so that it can be folded up and put into my bigger bag if necessary)
1 big cloth purse to carry all my junk in (Again, get something that is a light weight material that can be folded up small and stuffed in the big bag)
Small sewing kit: Needle, thread, scissors (This is important for repairs and scissors always come in handy)
Flashlight (Because electricity doesn’t always work everywhere you go)
Electrical Currency converter (So I can plug electronics in)
1 Swiss army knife (with bottle opener and corkscrew)
Address book (to write postcards!)
Pocket sized first aid kit with I. B. Profen
2 smalls locks to put on my backpacks to thwart robberies

It may seem like a lot, but compared to what I have seen other people traveling with, it isn’t too much. I have tried to strip my bag down to only the bare necessities. This all fits comfortably into my Kelty Red Wing 2500 with room to spare for gifts and souvenirs. This bag is small for a rucksack and incredibly comfortable.Only the necessities are necessary. A traveler must remember that wherever they are going other people are living there too. If you need anything that you didn’t bring or didn’t want to carry it will probably be readily available almost anywhere in the world.

Drinking Beer on a Hot Day

2008-09-04T12:39:00.001-07:00

Drinking beer tastes good on hot days. It is over 100 degrees today and all I want to do is drink beer. I don't usually drink beer during the day, but hot days are an exception. When the heat is so overwhelming there is nothing else to do but drink beer.

I have 3 more days of freedom before I go back to school for another year. Three more days until I fly out of the United States again and start another crazy journey and spend all my time doing school work and soaking up the world. I am going to enjoy these days, relax and drink beer when it is hot.

(Drinking beer in the heat of Mexico and sweating)

I bought a whole case of various Mexican beers. This reminds me of my last birthday, sitting on a little porch by a stream in the jungles of Mexico. I drank big warm 40's of Mexican beer all day long as I celebrated my long awaited 21st birthday. It was so hot that day that it was a sweaty task just to lift the bottle to my mouth. That was a good day.

Today is a good day too. I wish someone was here to enjoy drinking beer on a hot day with me.

Studying Mandarin Chinese Language

2008-08-30T08:33:00.000-07:00

As I am going back to the orient to Taiwan I have started studying Chinese again. When I was in China for 5 months I was studying language at ZheJiang Da Xue (The University of ZheJiang Province). About a month ago I dusted off my old school books and cracked them open. Fortunately my memory served me well in remembering most of what I had already learned. I made it through the first book in about a month. Now I am on to the second book which is totally new material.

I am finally realizing why my teacher had us doing such silly exercises to learn the language. Our homework was to simply say tons of syllables in 4 different tones. I had no idea what any of it meant, but I now realize that it really helped with pronunciation. As I am now on my own it is more challenging.
www.ladythetramp.com

(Photo of my Chinese Teacher in class)

It is really hard to learn a language when you are not in a classroom or submerged in the language. You just don’t use it everyday, which in learning a language you have to use it everyday if you are going to learn and remember anything. I am now struggling in pronunciation, toiling to learn characters in their obscure intricacy and trying to understand their simple, yet complex to the Western mind, grammar. I picked up Chinese a lot faster when I was in a classroom and in China.

(Chinese Bathroom Sign)

I think this is the reason why I did not get very far in Hindi. First, my teacher wasn’t very good at teaching or explaining the language and grammar. Also, no one in Bangalore, or South India for that matter, really speaks Hindi. You do not hear it in the street, and you do not have to use it in everyday interaction. In learning Spanish I feel that when I really realized I could speak, and when I felt most confident in understanding the language was when I was fully submerged in it, had no one around me to speak to in English, and was forced to speak it all day, everyday in order to interact with people. I could not run away. The best way to learn a language is to stop speaking, hearing or thinking your own.

Visit my photo blog for more photos: travelerphotos.blogspot.com

Thailand Travel Novels For Women

2008-08-29T07:44:00.000-07:00

Anna And the King of Siam by Margaret Landon

I like reading female travel writers. Sometimes their books are harder to find because traveling has never really been for the average woman. Most travel novels are written by men, and British men at that.

Females have totally different experiences than men while traveling. They have different needs, different hardships, and a different mindset than men. A woman’s take is usually a little more down to earth, and a little less prejudiced. They often have more interaction with the “locals” maybe as a result of talking to their servants, having to do the shopping or if they are a working woman, because of their job. I like hearing a woman’s point of view. And the fact of the matter is that if a woman was traveling around foreign countries a hundred, two hundred, even 50 years ago she was probably freaking awesome and tough as nails.

www.ladythetramp.com

(Anna Leonowens in Thailand)

Right now I am reading Anna and the King of Siam by Margaret Landon. Landon used Anna’s own journals on her experience to author this book about Anna’s time spent in Thailand.

The story is about Anna, a woman from Wales, who due to certain circumstances and events ends up teaching the royal child and harem of King Mongkut of Thailand. Through this she gets an inside peak into palace life, good or bad. As a student of cross-cultural studies it is interesting for me to read her story. She was a free thinking Western woman stepping into the lives of women who had never been outside of the palace walls, with their own customs and traditions totally obscure and often utterly horrible to Anna. It is a look into Thailand those the lens of her eyes, her views, and thoughts, her reactions to “their” actions.

(Old map of Bangkok)

Many people, especially after the popular Broadway show “The King and I”, believe that most of her story it terrible malarkey, completely falsified accounts in order to shock the readers and sell her books. To an extent this is true with any travel writer. Embellishment is a literary device to create an interesting story. No one wants to read about Anna just sitting around drinking tea and eating crumpets. But with Anna at least some of the story must be true.

No matter, I like this story, true or false. Next I am going to read her own journal entitled The English Governess and the Siamese Court, which I found online through the University of Penn's Online Books Page at http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/ (This is a great resource. Tons of free online books AND a special section on female writers featuring oodles of women travel writers.)

Anticipation of Traveling

2008-08-25T09:45:00.000-07:00

I am oozing with anticipation about leaving. I am going to Taiwan and Thailand with the Comparative Religions and Cultures Program of Global College of Long Island University. It will be the last semester of my 3 and a half year abroad portion of the program in the college. I am leaving September 7^th, and I can’t wait.

I am now in a kind of period of doing nothing and it kills me. I have to be doing something at all times. I feel lazy if I am idle. I finished working in July, went on vacation, and now I am just waiting. I hate waiting. I want to leave NOW.

I have been reading tons of books on Taiwan and Thailand and this just made me more excited. I know I should relax and enjoy these few more weeks with my family, these last few weeks before life gets crazy and busy again, but I want to GO.

A Visit to the Thailand Embassy in Washington D.C.

2008-08-17T10:55:00.000-07:00

After the Taiwan Embassy had had my passport for two weeks I decided there would not be enough time for me to send it to the Thai Embassy and wait 10 days for them to process it. As I was already in D.C. at my dad’s house I figured it would be easier for me to just go to the Embassy myself. I called the Thailand Embassy to ask where they were located. “Between J and M street on Wisconsin Avenue, in a hotel, but I don’t know the name of the hotel.” I don’t know how they didn’t know the name of the hotel considering they go to work there everyday. “How late are you open?” “Until 1 o’clock.” Did she say one or four? I rushed over, and dad got me there by 12 on the dot. I was ushered into the building. It was considerably more organized and neat than the Indian consulate (the only other place I have gone to get a Visa at). A short Thai man with a big bushy white moustache took my stack of Visa-getting papers. He mulled over them for a minute, stamped them a couple of times and handed me a piece of paper telling me when to pick up my passport. The Visa takes 2 business days. The Thai man did not say one word to me. Our only communication was through the little white paper that said Tuesday at 12:30.

Vacation to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

2008-08-04T11:32:00.000-07:00

Mira is going on vacation? Mira is going to Myrtle Beach? Seems like an unlikely place to visit for a girl like me.

Traveling is not necessarily going on vacation. I am going on vacation now. I am going to sit on the beach and do nothing and maybe drink some fruity drinks with funny little umbrellas. RELAX. I don’t get to do this very often. I am excited.

Myrtle Beach, though, is known to be a disgusting built-up, sleazy beach. Well I’m not actually going into the midst of that hell. I am going to a spiritual center where my family has been going there every summer for years. I think my first trip there I was under one year old. It is tradition.

The place where we stay has been declared a nature reserve also. So the contractors of ugly buildings are not allowed to come onto our beach. All the alligators come to the lagoons here when the golf courses kick them off. There are miles of trails through the pine and myrtle trees, hidden pagodas to laze away afternoons, paddle boats for visitor use (all free), and hardly anyone is ever there. Oh, and there is a two-mile strip of deserted beaches reserved only for center guests. It is usually empty. I am going to be alone with the ocean. Let’s just hope the sharks don’t eat me.

So my boogie board and bathing suit is packed and I am off. I don’t think I will be writing too much on my vacation. I do not want to stare at my computer screen until I come back to civilization in a week, nor do I think there will be wi-fi in the forest there.
Bon voyage!

The National Marina = Tourist Hell

2008-08-04T11:30:00.000-07:00

My father and I were relaxing in the shade a few minutes before sundown. We were enjoying huge iced coffees and the idyllic mild, breezy Virginia day when dad decided it would be nice to visit the new National Marina on the Potomac River in Washington D.C. So with the words of the Dalai Lama echoing in our heads, “One should visit a new place each year” to keep life fresh and learn new things we decided to check out the marina and an enormous, awe-inspiring stature my father had heard about. We drove across the bridge and headed towards the boats. Instantly we were driving through a tourist hell. There was white concrete covering the landscape topped with kitchy, over-priced tourist shops. I peered over the water expecting to see vast shipping yards with regal ships, boats, schooners and yachts from all over the world squirming with bow-legged sailors. I saw none of this, only white people with funny hats dressed in khaki pants and no boats. We drove around the place a couple of times looking for a parking place and only saw parking lots costing $10. This area was not user friendly. They wanted to keep the riff-raff out. No pirates allowed. After circling the block like a couple of misfit vultures we drove off into the sunset. The marina was not worth $10 for parking.

Alternative to Travel Guide Books

2008-08-04T11:23:00.000-07:00

I like to be innovative. I like to try to do things the fastest, easiest, most efficient way possible. When you are traveling efficiency and functionality are really important. If you have your whole life on your back you don’t have room for, as Wade says, “Big, dumb and heavy things.” More and more I am finding my Guide books to be big dumb and heavy.

I first began using guide books when I started to travel with Wade. In some instances they can be helpful. In some instances they can be a headache. My beef with them is that they have too much unnecessary information. They are chock full of things I will never read and never utilize, which makes them extremely thick and heavy. For me, all I usually use are the maps, hotels guides, and transportation guides. I want a guide book with just these bare minimum things. The rest I think I can do on my own.

My second problem has been that they are often times completely wrong. The Lonely Planet China guide book has led me astray more times than I can count on both hands. In Shang Hai it pointed me to a ferry ticket office that probably hadn’t been in use for at least 10 years. In Qing Dao it said I would arrive at a train station that was completely demolished, and instead I was at some weird train station not on any map in the middle of nowhere shadyville on the outskirts of the city.

The Costa Rica Lonely Planet once took me to a town which they described as a haven for hiking and rafting. Yet upon arrival there were no places to hike and the river was a trickling stream of green, murky water, clogged with mounds of trash. To top it off, a previous Lonely Planet guide book writer has just published a book bragging about how he wrote a guide book for somewhere in South America while sitting in his apartment in California. This makes me distrust guidebooks. I do not want to spend $25 USD on another Lonely Planet only to have it be constantly wrong AND I have to carry the darn heavy thing around.

So with all this said I am trying my hardest to find ways around this burden.

The internet is a tool potentially resourceful for a traveler in this day of age. I am looking for ways to use it, useful websites, which will by-pass my need for the travel guide book. There are hundreds of websites that now list hostels and hotels for almost every city in the world. Many of them even give detailed directions on how to find the hotel and maps. Andy from hobotraveler.com is developing a website with a database of hotels in every town or city in the entire world, hobohideout.com. So now as long as I have access to the internet, which with internet cafes worldwide I do, I do not have to rely on a guide book to find a hotel.

Wade (and sometimes I) is trying to compile a sort of online guide book to many of the places we travel to, vagabond field notes. We think this will be useful to travelers. We try to put the cheapest and best hotels and restaurants, maps, and basically the bare minimum of what a traveler really NEEDS. No frills.

(Photo of the Taiwan Lonely Planet from the library and photocopies of the book)

And if you really must have a printed version of a guidebook, and worst comes to worst, there is one more thing you can do. Find a guidebook in the library and photocopy it. I just did this for Taiwan. My local library has Lonely Planets, Frommers, and an assortment of other types of guidebooks all waiting for me for free. I know I will not be traveling to all of the cities in Taiwan, and I leave myself to my own abilities if I do, but for the places I definitely will be, I can copy the necessary information from the guidebook, and basically fashion my own guidebook with only the stuff I will NEED.

I am always looking for the best, most efficient way to do things. I need an alternative to lugging around huge Lonely Planets chock full of useless information.

Getting Scabies from Hotel Rooms

2008-08-01T06:31:00.000-07:00

I got a phone call last week from the girl I had been sharing a room with for about 2 months.

“Hi Mira. Are you still itchy?”

“Uhh, no. Why?”

“Well, I went to the doctors and that rash I had, it’s not poison ivy. I have scabies.”

“Wait, what? Do I have scabies? How did you get scabies?”

“I don’t know. I gotta go. I’m driving and there is a cop behind me. It’s illegal to talk on a phone while driving.”

Click. Gross.

I was sitting on a train when I got this call. What was I supposed to do? My worried mind started going over in my head how she could have gotten scabies, do I have any weird rashes that could possibly be scabies, I am a little itchy, what are those bumps, did my roommate wear any of my clothes, oh I really hope I don’t have scabies. I was freaked. I started getting psychosomatic itchy rashes, and checking over my entire body for anything, weird.

The next day I get another call. I do not know who this person was, but they were official and from my work. She said there could be a public health issue. Scabies is a public health issue?

“Do you have any weird rashes? Have you had any weird rashes? What do you do for work? Why were you outside working? Are you itchy? Did you have any mosquito bites? Did anything else bite you outside? Did you notice anything in your hotel room? Did anything bite you while you were sleeping? Were there mosquitoes or other bugs in your hotel room? What about outside of your hotel room? Are there lots of mosquitoes outside where you were working?”

She threw a barrage of awkward questions at me about scabies and itchy symptoms. I then chronicled to her every bug bite, chigger bite, mosquito bite, unidentifiable bite, and tick bite that I had gotten over the last 2 months of working. I think there were probably over 200 bites in total. She wanted the date and place of each individual bite. This took a little bit of time.

But I still don’t think I have scabies. But you can never be so sure.

Taiwan and Thailand Visa Application Process

2008-07-31T13:39:00.000-07:00

They must not want me in their country, I think as I mull over the pile of paperwork necessary to obtain my visas. These aren't even student visas or resident visas. I am applying for standard 60 day tourist visas. Why is this so difficult? I am applying for a Visa for Taiwan and Thailand. They want copies of flight itineraries, 2” x 2” photographs, bank statements, money orders, letters from people inviting me to their country, statements on the purpose of my trip self addressed envelopes (which cannot be metered stamp envelopes, only FedEx or priority mail envelopes. Where do I get those?). And on top of this Visas are not cheap. It costs $35 USD for the Thailand Visa and $131 USD for the Taiwan Visa. I still have to pay all the fancy postage costs on top of that.

(I lay on the floor buried in Visa paperwork.)

I went to the post office today and spent $194 for all the stuff to send to the Visa people and spent about 2 hours waiting in lines. 2 big envelopes + postage + 1 money order for $131 + 1 money order for $35 + 1 self-addressed priority mail return envelope + 1 self-addressed overnight return envelope= a lot of dough re mi.

Now I have to wait for the Taiwan Embassy to return my Visa. Shipping says the package will get there within 2-5 business days (This really is a lot of days, I wish they would be more specific). Then it should take 2 days for them to process the Visa (But who really knows how long it will just be sitting on someone’s desk until they get around to it). Then it is being priority mailed back to me (Which will be 2-3 days). So potentially I may not get my visa back until 15 days from now (no one will work on weekends so you have to tack on some time there). This is worrisome. Especially considering after I get my passport back, I have to send it off to the “Royal Thai Embassy” where they say it takes 10 + days to process a visa request. I don’t know if this will all happen before I leave on September 7^th. I might have to take a trip down to the embassy in D.C. and physically give them my passport.

This is nuts and I am frazzled. They must not want me in their country. No wonder so many people don’t travel. Who wants to deal with all of this??

Soccer in the Park

2008-07-31T13:16:00.000-07:00

The on-going battle of shirts and skins,
The shirtless skins catch my attention as I pedal past the soccer field or maybe it was the whistling but either way I stop to watch the sweat glistening bodies like they are fighting their way to Olympus, muscles out and Greeced.
Africans playing with the latinos and the Spanish and the football takes me back to Central America.
The blacks yell, "Amigo, pass it here!" everytime a spick gets the ball and the latinos yell back a spray of profanity in their foreign language, not understood by their teammates.

Anarchists in Philadelphia

2008-07-31T13:15:00.000-07:00

As a black neighbor gets arrested by a fleet of cops,
A group of Anarchists stand, gawking form their porch,
But they sure do look cool with their dreadlocks, tattoos, and patched-up clothing.

West Philadelphia Bike Ride

2008-07-31T13:08:00.000-07:00

Biking through the ghetto
Chicken bones and hair picks, greasy baked into the pavement.
The evening is thick like butter melting onto the dark bodies sitting on stoops.
The ominous clouds over my head blocking my sunshine warn me that I have to ride fast.
There are other reasons too,
But America is so PC that we can't speak of these things because United We Stand and there is no black or white under our flag (Or so THEY say)
everyone, everything, every man, woman, and child is gray, created "equal"
That's not an exciting world to live in like an old gray 50's TV sitcom and we aren't allowed to see the colors,
But I am the only white girl on this street and the eyes gazing from the stoops know that.

Archeology Field Technicians

2008-07-30T08:18:00.000-07:00

I like doing archaeology. Of course the work is interesting and all, uncovering the past, but there is something more one must like if they are going to succeed in the world of archaeology. You must be crazy, and you must like crazy people. Archaeologists are crazy. The nature of the work attracts a certain sort of character. Always traveling, doing hard physical labor, getting dirty everyday, but also being nerdy enough to like science and history….Archaeologists are nomads, drunkards, dirty, potheads, hippies, geniuses, geeks…and well crazy, stereotypically speaking.

(Field Tech demonstrates her circus skills balancing a huge stick on her chin. Big stick. Little Girl.)

I don't know how we get any work done, really. Hung-over and crazy in the scorching summer heat, walking through fields, and digging.

(Mexican sleeping on the job.)

Maybe we don't get any work done. This sleepy Mexican is taking a siesta in a wheelbarrow at work. Too much tequila the night before.

Public Transportation is Cheap in the USA?

2008-07-29T06:36:00.000-07:00

I am startled by my own statement of this. I have always been under the assumption that public transportation in the USA is expensive. Especially comparing own transportation systems to those of other countries, our systems appear defunct and ridiculously overpriced. But, now, I think compared to private transportation, i.e. your own vehicle, public transportation is cheap.

This summer I finally sucked it up and started driving a car. I soon realized how expensive this is. Gas prices are up, tolls are everywhere, and I have to pay car insurance. It was costing me at least 3 times the cost of a bus or train ticket to make a simple trip. I can get to Washington D.C. for $16 on the China Town Bus. Driving, it will cost me over double that in gas, and I have to pay tolls. I can get to NYC on the Chinatown bus for $10. It costs at least $12 just in tolls to get to NYC.

(Photo of the Philadelphia 30th Street Train Station)

Last week I took Amtrak from Philadelphia to Lancaster, PA. It cost $15 one way. This seems cheap to me compared to driving. On the way back I rode with my friend. It cost about twice this in gas, and the ride was about twice as long.

Amtrak was a smooth ride, with bathrooms, comfortable seats, and even plugs for laptops. Public transportation in the USA is looking a little more affordable as gas prices soar. The only problem is accessibility. Public transportation in the USA needs to run to more locations, more local buses.

(Nifty electrical socket outlets at every seat on the train. Free power!)

Random Meetings in the Philly Train Station

2008-07-28T08:29:00.000-07:00

“There still are nice people in the world. You just have to find them.”

He smiled a rotten toothed grin, “I think you can’t find them, but they find you.”

Random meetings. Somehow I attract this kind of attention, this certain type of people, hobos. “In times of trouble ban with the lowly,” says my father quoting the I Ching.

People do not know their own cities and it amazes me. I don’t even know my own city. A guy came up to me at the train station to ask where there might be a place to stay or a real estate office to find an apartment. I honestly didn’t know. I don’t know where there are any hostels, or hotels in Philly. I guess that is what makes Philly home. I do not have to sleep in a hotel here. Asking a person who lives in a town where the best place to stay is, is a bad idea. They just have no need for a hotel in their own city. weird.

Korean Tourists in the USA

2008-07-25T18:16:00.000-07:00

I was walking into the lobby of the Best Western in no-where-ville Maryland and saw a group of 5 young Korean boys. We were having a small party in my hotel room to commemorate the ending of our archaeology project, so I was already a little tipsy. I ran back to my hotel room to my friends. “KOREANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

We were a group of 4 girls. All of the boys on our project were sleeping and missing the party…leaving us to a total chick fest. The prospect of 5 Korean boys had brightened the night. We clasped arms, giggling like a gaggle of, well, little girls, and went to introduce ourselves to the Koreans.

They were nice, and within the hour, they were partying with us in our room. As a proud American, I wanted them to get a feel for an authentic American party. I threw on my overalls, a red bandana around my neck, and donned my cowboy hat. When they arrived I offered them beer, and the jungle juice. (The juice had turned into a sort of living creature, being moved around from room to room and it needed to be disposed of.)

The Koreans were traveling on a 10 day trip in the USA, sightseeing, and doing who knows what else. They were amiable, and Asians seem to always have a smile, especially while drinking. We drank and exchanged Korean and American cigarettes. They taught me how to say cheers in Korean and we told them to go to Atlantic City. Haha. It was a good night.

When traveling in some countries I find that it is hard to really connect with people of that culture and get a feel for the real flavor. When you’re staying in hostels you meet other people who are traveling, and usually they are not from that country. If you don’t know the native language, it is hard to communicate and be outgoing. Some cultures you can only meet people in a bar, but who wants to spend all of their time in a bar? And, bottom line, people usually are not very nice to tourists. When was the last time you went up to a tourist on the street in your city and said hello?

So, as a fellow traveler, I wanted to welcome these Koreans into my country. I figure if they have one fun night with nice Americans, they will go home and say “Americans are nice and friendly.” I want people to say that about Americans. I want people to invite me over when I am traveling. I like sharing. Come to my house.

LAVA Space in Philadelphia

2008-07-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

I went to the LAVA Space (http://www.lavazone.org/) in Philadelphia to check out what they are all about. It is located at 4134 Lancaster Ave. They claim to be an activist anarchist community space and have a community library and computers to use for free, community events, classes, etc. Or to put it more eloquently in their own words:

"The LAVA collective's mission is to create an empowering and welcoming physical space where diverse communities converge to build connections and break down barriers, blending media-making, artistic expression and hardy nuts-and-bolts organizing in order to advance movements for justice."

I am usually weary of those places. I have been to a lot of places that claim a vision towards peace and all that good stuff, but they rarely seem to actually do anything other than suck. They create places for people to be cool and feel like they are doing something to be cool, and you are not cool enough to be included because it is hard to be cool and we will only let a few people be cool, and if you are not already in our rank then you obviously are not cool.

The people at LAVA actually are cool, and in a good way. I rode up through their kind of sketchy neighborhood and parked my bike by their big sign in the front. When I walked in I was greeted by a whole slew of people. Jimmy hooked me up with a library card to check out books (They have a library with a huge selection of lefty books) and Chris talked a little bit about LAVA and conversed with me like a real human being. It felt good to be there. They were not trying to be cool. They were trying to be friendly. They were not dressed like they were “cool,” punk, indy, crusty, rockabilly, pretentious, etc. They were just dressed like people.

There were people of all ages using the computers and waiting for the tutor to come who gives free computer classes. People from the community were actually there. I liked it. I checked out a book on Sacco and Vanzetti, and I will go back there. Maybe all this political lefty peace stuff can make a change. Maybe we just need nice people. I think LAVA is good.

Couch Surfing in Philadelphia

2008-07-20T19:20:00.000-07:00

Today was supposed to be a couch surfing community meet-up in Philadelphia. I had been getting e-mails all month inviting me to the meet-up. I was excited. I joined couch surfing a couple months ago and think it is an awesome concept. I wanted to meet my fellow couch surfers. I was hoping to meet some interesting people who also like to travel, and who are also friendly (I think you must be some sort of friendly if you are inviting people to sleep at your house).

But the meet-up was not very successful. The potluck was supposed to start at 12. I got there a little late around 1 (I was having some bike trouble, forgive me). I figured that people would be getting there and just starting things up….people are always late. So I packed up my home made mint tea and my rice salad with homegrown garden veggies in my backpack, and rode down to the city, all excited.

So, I arrived, and did not see anyone. I thought, maybe everyone else is just late. I will wait a few minutes and drink some iced tea. About 10 minutes later 2 other people show up. They ask if I was there for the couch surfing meet-up. I say yes. We start talking. They were nice people in their 30’s. The woman had traveled quite a bit, the guy didn’t really talk too much about himself. So we waited together. About a half hour later we decide to just eat what we each brought. No use in sitting there hungry. Then we waited a few more minutes, and invited some other random people in the park to eat with us. These random people were weird…I think they were trying to be cool or something...not cool.

But no other couch surfers showed up. Where were all these people? Everyone had sent me e-mails and been all excited, but no one showed. On the message board they were all discussing what they were cooking, blah, blah, blah. Where were these people? Where was all the food? I do not know. Are couch surfing people flaky? Did people arrive before or after me?

After more waiting we three decided to leave. It was too awkward just the three of us sitting there trying to have a party. We all agreed that there were much better things we could have been doing.

Anyway, nice to meet you Mara and Joe.

I don’t know if I will be going to anymore couch surfing functions in the future though...if no one shows up.

Photos from Chichicastenango, Guatemala

2008-07-19T13:14:00.000-07:00

I just finished posting all of my photos from the market in Chichicastenango, Guatemala on my photo blog
Visit http://travelerphotos.blogspot.com for more photos of Guatemala

Indian Immigrants in the USA

2008-07-18T14:01:00.000-07:00

Watching the Hindus play tennis at dusk,
As the sky transforms itself to velvety purple starscapes,
their little flourescent yellow balls look like miniature suns bouncing back and forth across the horizon of the flat, green court.
How did these Hindus get transplanted into a park in this American city?
A place so far from their mysterious land of blue gods and holy cows where the fibers of society are so spicily knit like the golden embroidered vibrantly colored saris of Indian women, like madness on the street without a moment to close your eyes lest you miss an oddity only found in an enchanted ancient legend come to life.
Running around the tennis court, I can almost imagine that I am in India again as their aromatic curry sweat drenches the summer air, with all the hectic energy of yellow flying through the atmosphere, the squeaking of tennis shoes against pavement from a trampling of hurried feet.
There is always movement in India, a country that never gets a second of rest, except for the under the lazy banyan trees during the national sport of "time pass."
The mustached man head bobbles in a bubbling utterance of Hindi and all I can understand is the Hindi word for okay, the most used word of the language that is merely an eternal lie actually translating to "It will never really be okay" and a lazy way to brush away life and responsibility in the true embodiment of the caste system.
Do the Indians in America feel like Americans in India?

How to Make Jungle Juice

2008-07-12T08:54:00.001-07:00

How to make jungle juice and get this party started.
Archeology encourages certain behaviors....basically you are away from home, living in a hotel, and working really hard during the day...so night time means fun.
Our boss gave us Saturday off (Woo-Hoo) so Friday night we celebrated by making a vat of jungle juice.
Now this is a pretty gross mixture, basically made just to mess you up. Any ends of your bar handles will work, but here is our concoction:
Ingredients:
1 bottle Everclear (most importantly)
1 bottle of Tequila (Extra kick)
1 bottle of rum
1 bottle of whisky
4 Gallons of Hawaiian fruit punch

Now traditionally, because of the shear amount of alcohol, you want to buy the cheapest thing you can find...if it is in a plastic bottle, then it will be good for jungle juice...its really all about the plastic bottles....Remember, jungle juice is not a high class thing.

(Lining up the ingredients)

(Tom demonstrates the mixing technique)

All of this is poured into a cooler. This is a drink cooler, which works well because it has a spout and is made for this sort of thing, but the bathtub style coolers would also work.

But drinkers please beware. The fruit punch cuts the juice so you barely taste the alcohol. This makes it a little too easy to drink. This means, you will drink a lot....and this is what happens if you drink too much...you will end up in the lap of a big bald man!

And for those of you who are not drinking, this is what will happen to you. You will sit in a chair and not have any fun while drunkards are partying around you....bored...and almost sleeping....

Living in Hotels Forever

2008-07-12T08:13:00.000-07:00

I feel like I am going to live in hotels forever. For the past 3 years I have not lived in a permanent residence. Sure, I have all of my stuff at my mom's house and my mail is sent there, but I am only there about 3 weeks of the year if I am lucky.
Traveling, and doing archeology will do this to you. It is a bizarre lifestyle, carrying your life on your back with just the essentials.
Luckily in the USA I have a car, meaning I can haul more stuff with me everywhere. My trunk is filled with all of the junk that I always want with me but never am able to carry, art supplies, jewelry making equipment, camping gear, books and even a stove. This is like extreme luxury here.

(The sun setting over the Best Western in Maryland, my current residence.)

Yesterday at work we drove up to a really beautiful property with a huge old victorian-style house surrounded by shady pine trees. They had a little garden, and a porch swing. This looked like heaven to all of us. It sparkled in our hungry eyes like the greatest riches. To have a home and stability, to not be in perpetual motion, to not move from place to place every couple of months and start it all over again with new people.
The nomad gets tired after a while.

Lonely Fourth of July Celebration

2008-07-09T14:19:00.000-07:00

I rolled home to Philadelphia for the fourth of July weekend. I was totally beat from work and looking forward to my paid holiday off and a long weekend.
But this holiday really got me thinking. I do not usually enjoy holidays. I think I expect too much out of them. I want them to be hella awesome and crazy and perfect. This never seems to happen. My expectations are too high. And I usually just end up despising holidays as a result.
Before I even got home or had any choice, my mother had already arranged a whole schedule for the fourth.
1. Go to her friends house for a barbecue. The friend had a huge heated pool, and I suppose it was a pool party.....with no one within 10 years of my age....And basically everyone there was a family member of the friend..expect my mother and I...a little awkward.
I sulked next to the hamburgers and gorged myself on picnic food.
2. Go to another party at another one of my mom's friend's house. This was a little more fun. There were more people...and best of all more food....I sulked beside a huge plate of ribs this time....

We got home just before dusk, and I was anxious about the rest of the evening. I knew it would be lonely. It was the fourth and I reckoned that most people my own age were out partying and whooping it up. What the hell was I doing? The hard thing about traveling so much and moving so much in my life is that it is hard to keep friends. My friends are also always moving. To me home does not mean reuniting with my friends. I can count the number of friends I have in Philly on one hand. Home is pretty lonely.

As soon as the fireworks began blasting off in my neighborhood, rain started pouring....maybe in an attempt to drown out the bright sparklers and further bleaken my fourth.
I grabbed an umbrella and walked around in big black boots, sneaking into peoples backyards to join them in their celebrations...but really it was just a sad event altogether. I expect too much from holidays.

Family Vacation to the Poconos

2008-06-23T17:36:00.000-07:00

So I returned to the USA in May to make a little money and spend some time with my family. The first weekend I came home my family went on a little retreat to the Poconos. It was a nice welcome home. We went out kayaking and canoing on a little mountain lake and spent hours in the hot tub.

(mom lounging in the canoe as Ian and I paddle.)

(My mom and I in full canoing attire)

(Some views of the lake)

Women with Hairy Legs

2008-06-01T14:11:00.000-07:00

Now Ladies, I am sure many of you agree that shaving while traveling is just difficult. Though, it is hard to be a sexy woman with hairy legs. I usually have hairy legs for a female. It is just too much of a hassle if you don't have hot water and you are using communal showers in a hostal, or the bathroom is just so gross you really don't want to spend any time in there.

My legs often get a lot of funny, gross looks, but I am okay with that. Think what you want. It is part of my body. It is what it is. I do not care if guys like it or not. Usually while I am traveling I want guys to leave me alone anyway. In Asia, Indian women never really show themselves anyway. Chinese women do not have leg hair. In Europe, women with body hair is a little more common, so it is not such a big deal. Muslim women may have leg hair but we never get to see them under their robes.

(Photo of a woman with hairy legs wearing high heel shoes)

But now I am back in the good ol' USA where people have a big stigma against body hair. I guess males think females are hairless so women hide the fact that they naturally have body hair. I guess, though, since I am back I should do the same.

The armpit hair is growing back, though, and that is here to stay. Armpit hair is sexy.

Photo Blog From Antigua, Guatemala

2008-05-30T10:47:00.000-07:00

I just uploaded a bunch of photographs from my travels in Guatemala. I will be trying to add all of my photos from Central America in the coming future. Please check them out at http://travelerphotos.blogspot.com
Here is a preview:

For more photos from Guatemala go to Lady the Tramps Photo Blog in Guatemala

The End of my Semester Abroad

2008-05-28T18:09:00.001-07:00

I need a break! My eyes are strained, my shoulders ache and my mind is crashing. I just wrote a porfolio of 241 pages of writing for my schoolwork this semester.

Some people think that my school is easy and slack because it is an alternative, international program. Writing a portfolio of 241 pages of good, solid, researched essays is not easy. I can hardly believe that I even wrote so much.

I think my school is a lot more difficult than traditional universities. I have to live in a culture other than my own while studying. I have to live in a place where people do not speak my native language. I have to develop my own curriculum. I have to decide what I am going to learn. I have to do my own, real live field work and research, doing interviews, making visits, finding contacts. I have to draw my own conclusions from my own experiences, and not just regurgitate what a teacher thinks or what some dude wrote in a book. No secondhand experiences here.

My school is challenging. My brain needs a break. I am glad it is summer.

Remembering Mexico from my Childhood

2008-05-28T18:01:00.001-07:00

I remember the smell of MExico as a young teenager when my family came here on vacation about 10 years ago. I wanted to be a woman then and I bought a new skirt and high, black platform shoes which I teetered around on trying to be pretty.

I remember seeing people in the streets, chubby women in short skirts and men who hissed at me as I eased passed. That was my first look at night people and I thought they were sleazy in their polyester clothes and I don't think I really understood it all and that was the first time I thought about that. But now I think that is just the way things are down here south of the border.

The streets were crowded at night with dull naked light bulbs glowing from a million shop windows selling trinkets and fake silver jewelry that caught the sparkle. I wondered where everyone was during the day. Maybe on the moon.

Mexico Hotel Room Poem

2008-05-28T17:55:00.000-07:00

Waking up with odd feelings pouring from my head like the falling water that has been spilling all night from the shower in the hotel room next door that the drunk forgot to turn off
Got a rattling in my brain thinking bad thoughts and hankering for forbidden fruits.
Wish I could tweet like that little bird on my windowsill and lift my tiny crooked claw feet off of this ground and maybe fly away from here, a little lighter and a little bit freer than before.
In truth I am afraid of that big blue sky and what is really out there blanketed by the abyss because maybe it will suck me up into nowhere or my dreams, whichever.
The ceiling fan goes round and round but the hot air stays in my small white hotel room.
Today I woke up with inspiration.