The Robinsons

Hellllllooooo!

It's been a while. But the reasons are legit. Had I been able to either halt time or add a few hours on to each day, blogging might have fit into the schedule, but even with those kind of super powers it would have still been a struggle.

Since I returned from Italy things have been insanely, nightmarishly busy. I am working Mon, Wed, Fri at my old ad agency, Tues and Thurs at the clinic, and I had 3 tough classes that I only had time to study for after a 9 or 10 hour workday. By the beginning of August I was running on fumes. Everything was suffering--my advertising work, my therapy sessions with clients, and classwork. But 3 finals later I've finished the semester from hell, while still managing to keep a 3.95 GPA. Hell yeah. I mention this not to brag or toot my own horn, but because I'm pretty freakin' proud of myself. I got divorced, travelled around the world, lived in Italy...and still got straight A's. Genius, anyone?? ;)

No, really, it is pretty astounding because had you known me in undergrad...a straight A student I was not. I majored in having fun and minored in procrastination, both of which I was summa cum laude. I still managed to get decent grades, but it certainly wasn't because of the enormous amount of time I spent studying. So this is a big deal for me, so much so that I've hung my transcripts on my parents refrigerator, proudly displaying my A's like a first grader.

To treat myself after 3.5 months of non-stop brain functioning, I spent the last 10 days in Italy visiting Paolo. I have a break between semesters, so I jumped on my only chance until Christmas to make the trip across the pond and relax in beautiful Salento.

Getting there was an ordeal (I'll write my anti-Alitalia blog next...those living in Italy can comiserate without even knowing the story yet). But once I finally arrived, things were wonderful. Again, more details and photos to come, because we went to some really cool places. But this blog is dedicated to yet another conversation with Paolo that is definitely worth documenting.

So, this conversation took place as we were laying in bed one night. We were so happy to see each other again...it had been two months. We were snuggled up, basically forehead to forehead, having a groggy, just before you drift off conversation, when he said:

"One day, can we have a family like the Robinsons?"

The Robinsons? Huh? What is he talking about? So I said:

"The Robinsons? Huh? What are you talking about?"

And the rest of the conversation proceeded like this:

Paolo: "Yeah, you know from the TV show?"
Me (racking my brain for TV Robinsons): "You mean Swiss Family Robinson?"
Paolo: "Noooo...it was a black family..."
Me: You mean the Jeffersons!?!"
Paolo: "No, remember, it was the family where the dad was a doctor and the mom was a lawyer, and they had a lot of kids...Rudy..."
Me: (lightbulb) "YOU MEAN THE COSBY SHOW??"
Paolo: "Yes, with Bill Cosby!"
Me: "Why do you call it the Robinsons?"
Paolo: "Because that is their surname."
Me: "Robinson?"
Paolo: "Yes. And the show was called 'I Robinson' "(which means 'The Robinsons' in Italian)
Me: (a bit confused) "But their last name was Huxtable..."
Paolo: "Hugsable? Huctable? Wait, what did you say?"
Me: "Ahhhh...now I see why they were the Robinsons in Italy..."

So our beloved Huxtables were the Robinsons in Italy because the Italians have a very difficult time pronouncing Huxtable. Plus,to them Robinson is about as American as Smith or Jones. And apparently the Robinsons in Italy were equally as popular as their aliases in the States. Paolo said it was one of his all time favorite shows growing up. I can just imagine Bill Cosby's voice dubbed by an Italian actor...

As for having a family like the Huxtable/Robinson clan...the thought was sweet. But 5 kids? Ha! Uh, no thank you. We might have to subtract from that number by about 3 or 4. (He did clarify later that he wasn't not insinuating that he wanted 5 children...he just wants a "happy life like they had" ...WHEW.)

You know, a happy life Robinson-style doesn't sound too bad. Sign me up.

International "Kiss an Italian" Day

According to one of my most trusted sources for news (Facebook), today is International Kiss an Italian Day.

So ladies, if you happen to be with an Irishman, African, German or Canadian, today you are absolved. You have a get-out-of-jail-free card. You can place all the blame on me. It's a holiday afterall...

Go find yourself un uomo italiano and plant a big one on him. You won't regret it.

Or, if you are a good girl, you can do as they do here-- one on each cheek.

(but, trust me, as I speak from experience, the "each cheek" thing isn't half as much fun...)

Happy Kiss an Italian Day!

Paldo J. Fox

I haven't written about any of the funny conversations that I've had with Paolo in a while. I could write a blog a day with the material I've accumulated, but that doesn't make for exciting blog reading, and really, I gotta give the guy credit. His English is getting better each day. I am still in the phase where he can't even make fun of the things I say in Italian because, really, it's not Italian. It's more like a random string of nouns and verbs, all in the present tense, thrown together in hopes that MAYBE the point will come across. In time I might say something funny, but now it's more painful than humorous. Anyway, there are 2 conversations that I've had with Paolo that still make me laugh out loud when I think about them. I'll try to recapture them as best I can:
I
Conversation #1: "J. Fox"

Where: At my parent's house before we went to the family Christmas at my aunt's house. It continued later during the festivities.

Why: It started because I was fake-scolding him about something (probably not putting the toilet seat down...he's bad).

Me: "Paolo ______ Johnson!! (obviously, not his real last name) You forgot the toilet seat again! Hey, wait, what's your middle name?"
Paolo: "I don't have a middle name. I'm just Paolo Johnson."
Me: "Huh. But that doesn't work as well in this situation. When I'm trying to be mother-like and scold you, I need a full name. Like Paolo David Johson, for instance. We gotta give you a middle name. "
Paolo: "Ok"
Me: "And should be 2 syllables, because that flows the best"
Paolo: "Ok"
Me: "And it has to be American, because you already have 2 Italian names"
Paolo: "Ok" (you have to love that he's so willing to go along with this)
Me: "How about Joseph?"
Paolo: "No, that is your daddy's name. How about Justin?" (I knew he threw this one out because he feels that he and one Mr. Timberlake have much in common)
Me: "uh, no. "
Me: "Michael?"
Paolo: "No... Thomas?"
Me: "Paolo Thomas Johnson? Nah...."

We proceeded to come up with 2-syllable, American names for a few more minutes, but couldn't decide on one. Eventually we gave up. Fast-forward to a couple of hours later. We were at my aunt's house and I'd totally forgotten about the middle name conversation.

Paolo (out of the blue): "I've got it! How about 'J. Fox'??"
Me: "huh?" (no clue what he's talking about)
Paolo: "For my American middle name. I like J. Fox"
Me: "Paolo J. Fox Johnson?" (trying very unsuccessfully to stifle my laughter).
Paolo: "Yes. I like it."
Me: "Well, ok, Paolo J. Fox Johnson it is."

To this day, I'm still not sure if he thinks "J. Fox" is one word--"jayfox" or if he realizes that "J. Fox" is actually a middle initial and a last name. But either way, on that day "Paolo J. Fox Johnson" was christened, and is still used quite frequently.

Conversation #2 "Where's Paldo"

Where: At our apartment in Otranto, two nights ago.

Why: His sister had bought him a new sweater. It has red and blue horizontal stripes. We both liked it when we saw it, but when he actually put it on...not so much. The following conversation ensued:

Paolo (looking at himself in the mirror): "Do you like it?"
Me: Ummm, it reminds me a little of "Where's Waldo?"
Paolo: "Who's Maldo?"
Me (starting to laugh): "Not Maldo...!"
Paolo: "Oh, scusa, sorry--who is Paldo?"
Me (erupting with laughter): Paldo!!?! YOU'RE PALDO!"

It took me 20 minutes to explain what this meant, who "Waldo" is, and why it all struck me so funny. He exhorts this kind of goofy humor without knowing it, and it kills me. When I try to explain it, it becomes funnier and funnier to me and more confusing to him. Which in turn makes me laugh even harder. And in this case, even though it's not truly all that funny, it was one of those things when I thought about it an hour later I would start laughing all over again. I would just envision him standing there in his "Paldo" sweater looking confused asking "Who's Paldo?" Awww. He has no idea how cute he is.

I'll have to take a picture of him in the sweater.

So, now he's officially become Paldo J. Fox.

Oh, and speaking of pictures. I've posted the pictures of our redecorated apartment and our Valentine's party. Enjoy!

Change in plans...

I've got my mind set on learning a new language, but I'm beginning to think Italian isn't for me. Instead, I'm thinking about studying British. For some reason it just flows, and my comprehension level is already at about 75%, I'd say.

So from now on instead of writing about my ragazze, I'm going to write about my mates...and their favourite colours and flavours. And, from now on, I will refer to eggplants as aubergines.

Cheers.

I'm living in a dryer-less nation

I just came downstairs from retrieving the laundry that was drying on the clothesline on the roof. Sure, sounds soooo Italian and kinda cool. But, really, it's not. At first I was also taken by the smell of air dried clothes, but after a few times of hanging each sock by a clothespin, the novelty wears off. And everything is kinda stiff--sure, you can add fabric softener, but until you wear it or use it (i.e. a towel) a few times it's a little like cardboard.

This is one of the many very Italian nuances that I am adjusting to. Each day, I become more used to how things work here, but some things are just so totally different than in the US. Not better or worse necessarily, just different. In some cases, I'd take the US's version and others Italia...here are a few of my favorite examples (and other random observations):

• There are no dryers and the washers are TINY. The supersized, wash 33 pairs of jeans at a time, monstrosities that we have in the US would never fit into the normal place where a wash machine is kept in Italy...il bagno (the bathroom). Yes, they are cute and tiny and can maybe hold 33 socks, but really, you do a lot less laundry a lot more frequently. Actually, that's not true. Italians have no qualms about wearing clothes over and over until they are dirty. In fact, my teacher wore the same thing 3 days in a row last week, and that's pretty normal. We are a little more paranoid about that in the US. As if wearing the same thing twice makes us either dirty or poor. I can do it with jeans, but I usually have to switch my sweaters (even if they are not dirty), I'm working on it though. It's one of the easier Italianism to adjust to.
• Nothing is open, ever. Ok, that's not really true either. But, shops are open from around 9am until 12:30 and then they close until 4, and then stay open from 4-8pm. And a lot of them are closed on Sunday. Oh, and Monday (from the difficult weekend??). There are some Target-type stores that are open normal hours everyday, but nothing is 24 hours. I'm sure in the larger cities the hours are a lot different, but I'm living in a small town in the very south. Things are still pretty old school down here...
• Speaking of old school, there are old men everywhere. This is true. My mom told me the other day that the Italian population is becoming much older. This is due to family sizes shrinking and the economy not being so hot that young professionals are looking outside of their beloved country for work. So the old guys gather on the street corners or in front of the market and just stand around and talk. You can find them there at any point in the day. I often wonder where the old women are and if they ever leave the house?
• Their government is a bigger mess than ours! Yes, I know, hard to believe. They are having an election for a new Prime Minister on April 13th. The current PM was recently voted out of office. This is the 61st time since World War II that power has changed hands in Italy (another factoid from la mia mamma...she's been reading all about Italy since her and my dad are coming to visit for two weeks in April!!! Yay!!) .
• There are a lot of stray dogs. And nice ones at that. In Thailand or India, you wanted to avoid the strays at all costs. But here, there is a little problem with people getting dogs and then realizing for whatever reason they cannot take care of them, (going on vacation for a month and can't take the dog--just let it go, and hope it's there when you return!) so the strays are often very sweet, good-natured and clean. Sometimes I ask Paolo if we can take them home (this goes for dogs, cats, and cute old men...I love 'em all). He's yet to cave.
• There is a couple that meets outside of our condo a few times a week for what is apparently some kind of secret rendezvous. They look to be in their 20's and they arrive in separate cars. They proceed to stand outside and smoke cigarettes and make-out passionately for a half and hour or so, and then leave separately. Sometimes I wanna yell out my window "is she your AMANTE????" But, I restrain myself.
• You go grocery shopping virtually everyday. I actually really like this. I thought it would be a hassle, but buying bread that was baked that morning, fruit straight off the truck, and watching the butcher slice the perfectly thin bresaola makes the trips worthwhile.
• Italy does not have notecards. Just an FYI, in case you ever find yourself here in search of notecards. I'm talking about the kind that you use to study--you know, when you make flashcards with a word or phrase on one side and the definition on the other (or for recipes, etc). Anyway, I thought these would be a great way for me to practice my Italian vocabulary. Until I found out the hard way that they apparently don't make flash cards here. We looked for days, one day for 2 hours in 4 different towns. I finally got some blank business cards.
• In school, they don't have spelling tests. Every word is spelled exactly how it sounds. So if you can understand the phonetics of the word, then you know how to spell it. Almost all words in Italian end in vowels. In fact, Italians really enjoy vowels. It's not unusual for a 7 letter word to have 5 vowels in it. A fun example: "Miei" is one of 4 ways to say "my" depending on if it’s masculine or feminine, singular or plural. And it's pronounced Mee-ay-ee. Not easy for us consonant lovers.
• Italians LOVE graffiti. So much so, that they often sign their names. Like if a lovesick boy writes "Emma, ti amo (Emma, I love you) he'll write "by Marco"--we can't have Emma thinking that Giuseppe wrote it now can we? Rome has more graffiti than I've ever seen in one place. This made the city so much more real to me. There is the Coliseum, and then the walls across the street are covered top to bottom in colorful street art.
  

So how’s that for some "you'll never need to know this information" information? But, it's stuff that I find interesting. I've had to dig deep some days to find patience and remind myself that I am in their country, and things run their way. Not mine. So the inefficiencies (and there are many, by American standards), I just have to get used to (don't get me started on the layout of large stores and where you are allowed to enter and exit...whoever designed them should maybe take up cooking or something).

But, as I am sure you can imagine, for all of the things that are difficult to get used to, there are so many wonderful things about living here. Um, waking up as looking at the sea each morning overrides 99.9% of the problems. We walk and walk and walk. There are miles of big beaches and a ton of quaint little towns to explore. And still so much about Otranto I have to see/learn. When we went to the north for Paolo's exam (which he passed btw!! YAY!!) we drove through the most beautiful landscapes I've ever seen--along the coast, through the countryside, into the mountains. We were in the car for almost 7 hours and I didn't pick up a book (for study or pleasure), I looked out the window the entire time. Italy is so, so, so, so, beautiful. It's no wonder it's one of America's favorite places to visit because it's absolutely breathtaking. Each area brought something new and so very Italian--the architecture, the vineyards, the olive trees...

Sometimes it's a love/hate relationship. But, I guess it's normal during an adjustment period. The best part about this period is I still see it all. I don't drive by it and no longer take it in. I enjoy and appreciate all of the beauty, and do my best to find humor in the hard parts.

Oh, and Paolo and I are having a party for San Valentino (Valentine's Day)...really just an excuse to show off all of the work we've done on the condo and get all of his friends and family together. My mom sent a bunch of cute V-day decor, and we are planning the menu and preparing this week so I'll be sure to write about hosting my first festa in Italia.

Ciao!

The Other Woman...

I wasn't planning on writing today, but this is just too good...

Today I had my 3rd Italian lesson, and we began by reviewing masculine and feminine nouns, singular and plural. It's tough for English speakers to remember that every object is feminine or masculine--so a car--la macchina, is female.

Anyway, my exercise was to take this list of objects and put them into the right categories based on their preceeding article. The exercise was actually in my Italian workbook, and it was about a very rich man, and the objects were a list of everything he has. So one by one, I put each object into it's correct section, while discussing with my teacher what each word meant. He has a wife, a yacht, an island in the pacific, a private jet, a personal trainer, and an AMANTE.

When we got to that word, I didn't know what it meant so I asked my teacher (who tries to only speak in Italian with me). She said, "amante = seconda donna" (second woman). Huh? She couldn't possibly mean what I think she was saying. So she repeated "amante= fidanzata" (girlfriend). Ok, so wait a second, this rich dude in exercise #4 has a MOGLIE (wife!!!) and an AMANTE (lover??!?).

Only in Italy.

Only in Italy, in the very beginning stages of your Italian lessons, would you learn the word for "mistress"...

Watch out Bollywood, here I come!

Yesterday Tiff and I were sitting at our favorite coffee place, Moonpeak, doing our favorite thing--monk watching--when suddenly, for a brief few minutes I became a famous movie star. We were sitting at a table outside near the road and there was a group of Punjabi Indian men (looked to be in their 20's) sitting on some concrete barriers that stopped cars from careening over a cliff, across the street. They were not at all attempting to be discreet in looking our way. This went on for about a half hour until one of them, after much discussion and prodding, finally had the courage to approach me. "Can you please take a picture for us?" he asks. Ha! Is that all they wanted? Me to take their picture? They shouldn't have been nervous about that, I was more than happy to...

...maybe it was the language barrier, but that wasn't exactly what they were asking.

Instead, they wanted me to have my picture taken--with each one of them--separately. So feeling utterly amused and quite flattered I obliged, and each one of them came to stand next to me for a very un-candid photo. There was no arm over the shoulder action--nothing. Just me standing there, hands at my side, them next to me, hands at their sides, smiling goofily at the camera. After that was done, I smiled politely and started to make my way back to Tiffany. Wait, but no... they weren't done yet. Apparently they had round two planned--the seated photos. They sat me at one of the restaurant tables and then a couple of them at a time would come sit with me--making it appear that we were actually dining together. (Sans any food or drink). By this time a small crowd had gathered also bemused by the impromptu photoshoot. Finally, after the "dinner" photos were finished, I was allowed to make my way back to Tiffany, with many kinds words of gratitude from the men.

I am dying to know what they tell their friends when they get back to Punjab...I can only imagine.

So, for a brief moment, I felt kinda famous. A little flattered, a little weirded-out, a little violated, a lot embarrassed. But, you know, if I had to, I could probably get used to it... :)

I flew out of McLeod Ganj today and I'm back in Delhi-- and its still hot. But this time proved to be much easier, even though I am by myself. Once you have experienced a city and have some sort of familiarity with it, it is so much easier the second time around. I am staying at the same hotel as the first time, and it's made me realize how good we had it up in the mountains. Tiff and I were paying 3 dollars each a night to have a bed with sheets and blankets, and hot running water--and a view worth a million. Here, I am paying twice as much, to have a room where I will not put my head directly on the pillowcase (I cover it with my sarong or a towel), there are no blankets on the bed (although the aren't really needed) the flat sheets (no cover sheet), although I'm pretty sure are clean, have holes in them, and there is no hot water. I miss McLeod Ganj!!!!

Wow. What a fantastic little treasure of a town it is. It is someplace I'd love to visit again. Next time I would set up some classes beforehand because the town is overflowing with educational opportunities. Massage, cooking, dance, Tibetan, Buddhist, Hindu, music, yoga, meditation, trekking--all types of classes and all very affordable.

While I was there I spent most of my time taking it all in. It's a place you probably need to stay longer than 9 days to really get it, but I did my best. We found our favorite places to eat, hang out, use the internet, explore--and since it is so small, by the time I left we knew all of the people that worked at each place and some of the other regular patrons and we were recognized and greeted by many. We had our favorite Lepers ( many of the beggars have leprosy and are missing limbs) but they are absolutely lovely people, and even if you don' give them money they are always ready with a Namaste and a smile. We saw monkeys pretty regularly, we belly-danced, we attended a Sufi (type of Islam) music concert, we saw a sitar (stringed instrument) and tabla (percussion) concert, had Tibetan massages, went to the Dalai Lamas temple, shopped for beautiful Indian and Tibetan clothes, jewelry, decor, watched a young girl walk a tight rope with no net under her in the middle of the street for money, met a fantastic young Aussie named Tiirum, who is bound to change the world, I had my epiphany...and I finally got rid of all of my ailments. So overall, I think it was a successful part of my trip.

After being in Asia for the last 6 weeks, I am looking forward to Europe. It's crazy, the countries I've gone to and have ahead of me are all so different, culturally. But, there are good people all over the world and Tiffany and I have been really lucky to have met so many.

Namaste, India. Buon giorno, Italy.

"Seriously. Somebody PUH-LEESE shave my armpits"

This was Tiffany's cry for help. Loudly, and in an internet cafe. And if you know Tiff, for her to acknowledge an overgrowth of body hair it has got to be pretty bad. The reason for the immense desire for a razor was because we went to a place called the Sanctuary with the intention on staying one night. Seven days later we finally left. Tiff had to make a stop at home to get us clean clothes and a razor after about day five. We had been washing our two pair of underwear in the shower and pretty much wearing the same thing everyday (because we only packed for one night). We kept thinking "ok, one more day." I guess that's how it is when you travel, you fall in love with a place and don't want to leave.

So let me back up a bit and tell you how we wound up in the Sanctuary in the first place. I arrived in Koh Phagnan on the 23rd. We were supposed to leave for India on the 30th, but Tiffany had visa issues so we aren't leaving until June 8th. When Tiff was in Thailand for the first time 5 years ago she lived and taught yoga at the Sanctuary and always told me what a magical place it is (I use that word a lot to describe Koh Phagnan, but it's really one of the few that truly fits) so we decided to go there for a night.

Tiffany's house is in the Northwest part of the island in a quiet somewhat secluded area near where she is studying yoga--a place called Seetanu, and her beach area is Haad Joa Phoa ("Haad" means beach, "Koh" means island). The Sanctuary is on the Southeast side of the island close to the crazy beach where the Full Moon Party is each month (more on that in a bit--this might be a lengthy blog...) To get to Haad Tien where the Sanctuary is you must take a water taxi from Hadd Rin (the party section of town). The boat ride is breathtaking...

The Sanctuary is a "resort" of sorts. It has beautiful bungalows on cliffs over looking the beach and ocean. It also has the economy rooms--in our case, a dorm, which we shared with 8 other people. We slept on 1" thick mattresses on the floor, under mosquito nets (which I LOVE) in a hot, un-airconditioned, no fans, room right above a noisy restaurant. Sounds like resort living, eh? But, we paid about 3 dollars a night. The first night I went to get in the shower (community shower) and found a frog hopping around. The frog got into the shower because part of the ceiling opens into the jungle so whatever wildlife creatures are hanging around are free to be little voyeurs and watch you bathe. There is also a large boulder jutting into the bathroom, so it was a perfect place to hang a towel or clothes. There is no hot water, but this is never a problem because it's usually so hot that there is no desire to take a hot shower.

If the thought of a frog in the shower is enough to make you squirm, then Koh Phagnan might not be the place for you. In Tiffany's house there is a spider that occupies the bathroom that we fondly refer to as "Mamacita." She is about an inch in diameter (her body, not her legs) and is brown and furry. These are all over, and they kinda just chill--like big, friendly mosquito traps. But, the spider that hangs outside of her house over the hammock is a different story. It's legs are longer than my fingers, it's a vibrant black and yellow, and from what we understand it's best to steer clear of them--they look like a giant caution sign so I think they are telling you to stay away. Spiders are just the tip of the iceberg--apparently there is a giant (literally) snake living close to Tiffany's house. A Thai friend of ours saw it a few nights ago--they've been referring to it as an "anaconda" but we don't think actual anacondas live in Thailand. Anyway, the thing is like 15 feet long about a foot in diameter and when Pi Pat saw it she said it looked like it had just swallowed a chicken whole by the bulge in it's belly. We haven't seen it yet--which I guess is a good thing, but I'd love to get a picture...(we think it's a constrictor, so as long as we don't allow it to wrap around us and squeeze we should be golden.)

Ha! What a fantastic marketing representative I am for this place...I've made it sound scary as hell, but really, it's one of my favorite places in the world. You do not have to "rough it" and can stay in real resort areas that Westerners are used to. Some of the bugs will still be around but luxury can be found--and at such reasonable prices! There are very few hotels on the island. Instead, there are tons of bungalows usually ranging from 150-2500 baht, so $5-$75 dollars. For 150 baht you get a room with a bed and a mosquito net and you'll have a community bathroom/shower. For $2500 you will have a totally luxurious room with air conditioning, hot water, TV/DVD, a pool, front porch, gorgeous view (which also come with the cheap ones)--reallly nice. And then there is an obvious range in between. Getting to Thailand is the expensive part--once you are here you can vacation relatively cheaply.

Ok, back to what I've been doing...we stayed a Tiffs for a few nights before we took off to the Sanctuary. The yoga season is ending so there was a farewell party at one of her friends houses. This party did not include any alcohol...instead there were raw chocolate aphrodisiac bliss balls being passed out. Wow. Not only did they taste fantastic, the effect they had was like a total natural, euphoric high. Everyone that was there is studying tantric yoga--and if you are anything like me, the only thing I'd ever heard about Tantra before was about how Sting is tantric and he can have sex for days on end. (I know, all my guy friends are like "sign me up!") There is definitely a sexual aspect to Tantra, but from what I've learned, it is really focused on the chakras, or energy centers in the body. It teaches how to use/maximize this energy through yoga--with the ultimate outcome being spiritual enlightenment. It's interesting stuff. A little much for me to digest, but I'm always open to learning more.

So after all the yogis said goodbye, we hopped on Tiff's motorbike (which I've also discovered I love--such a great feeling to be zipping down a deserted island road with the sea to your right and a jungle to your left, only passing a car or other motorbikes every couple of minutes--there is something really freeing about it) and went to Thong Sala, a nearby town where we hopped in a taxi (which is really a pick-up truck with benches in the back) and headed to Haad Rin, the very developed part of the island. We can't take Tiff's bike all the way there because the roads are pretty treacherous and she drives like a grandma. From Hadd Rin we caught the water taxi to Haad Tien and that brings me back to the Sanctuary.

The first 3 days we spent catching up, having lots of "Tiff and Maggie" conversations, kinda living in our own world. We'd get up, eat a great breakfast, swim for a while, lay in some hammocks, nap, eat lunch, maybe swim some more, lay around some more, do yoga, talk, eat dinner and go to bed. It was rough. But, after a few days of this, we got tired of hearing our own voices and decided to start meeting the people staying there. Many of them were doing fasts (3-7 days of no food and lots of colonics...). Others were there for relaxing vacations that include a bunch of yoga and good (vegetarian) food. I am not a vegetarian, but the food there was fantastic. We met two young guys from London who were studying Thai boxing--there was a Thai boxing ring in the jungle right by the Sanctuary so they were staying in our dorm. Jonathan and Ben, great guys who we'll probably see again when we are in London. It wasn't long before we could go down to the restaurant and sit at any table because we had made friends with everyone--that's sort of how it works, you stay there long enough and you build a little community. And the people you meet are all so interesting. I thought my trip was big--4 months. In comparison, I am a complete novice. Some of these people have been traveling for 12-18 months. They often plant themselves someplace for six months at a time and work, sink into the culture, and then move on and do it again. So many cool stories...

And like I said, we thought we were only going for a night. So we were absolutely disgusting when it came to hygiene. We seriously had bathing suits, 2 pair of underwear each, yoga clothes and the clothes we arrived in. Tiff kept telling me that I need to learn how to be dirty cause in India we'll likely be much dirtier, but 5 days in the same clothes, when it's 90 degrees outside gets pretty gross. And when Tiffany is complaining about needing to shave you know the situation has come to drastic measures.

Her revelation came in the middle of us checking our email at the internet cafe. It was like her own body odor overwhelmed her so much that she blurted it out without even thinking about it--and we weren't the only people in there!! I almost fell out of my chair laughing because she said it so loudly and with such disgust, yet the woman at the computer next to her refused to even look up. (She was probably trying to finish whatever she was typing and get out of there ASAP because she was getting ill sitting next to us).

That was just one of the many times I laughed until I cried since I've seen Tiff. I has been SO GOOD to be with her again. We met almost 20 years ago, lived together in college and just know each other inside and out. We travel easily together because we can be completely honest about if we are annoyed, need space, feel weird, scared, etc. And we think we are hilarious, so even when there is no other entertainment around we can easily occupy ourselves. For example, we were sitting on the beach the other night having a typical female over-analyzation type of conversation when Tiffany says "To be completely honest with you, he would have been a perfect boyfriend...if he was just somebody else." I lost it. A quote like this comes out at least once a day. I should start documenting them.

So most nights at the Sanctuary were pretty quiet, but we happened to be there for the Full Moon Party. This is a monthly party, obviously the night of the full moon, on Haad Rin. Thousands and thousands of people come the the beach and party until midmorning the following day. When I was here in January we went and had a blast (It is where I met Marcus, the guy in Japan). So I talked Tiff into going again. Now, you have to prepare yourself because it is like Spring Break Cancun x 10. They serve drinks in buckets called "buckets" (original) that include some bottle of liquor, coke, redbull, and 6 or 7 straws. It's nuts. Tiff and I stuck with beer, because buckets seem a little excessive and scary with the wide open-ness of them...inviting shady people to drop whatever they'd like into them. We were walking through the party and suddenly this Thai guy came up to me and put a baby monkey in my arms. It was so cute, but looked so sad. He then pretty much forced Tiff and I to get our picture taken with it for 200 baht. (like 6 bucks) Tiffany cried. She was sad for the monkey....

There are also these crazy people that twirl fire on ropes/sticks/stilts, whatever. It is so cool, but then you get these dumbass drunk westerners that want to try it but then you see them the next day with bandages on their arms/legs/face from burning themselves. Usually the party ends a few hours after the sun comes up with people passed out all over the beach. Tiff and I took the water taxi back to Haad Tien at about 3:30am. We must be getting old.

Something that I notice about Thai and other SE Asian cultures, is that they place much more focus on resting and relaxing than we do. They recognize the importance of stopping, breathing, being quiet for a while. It is in this time that you remember the important things and regain perspective. We say things like "There aren't enough hours in the day"--because we have that much to do??!? Why??? We never stop to rest. We burn ourselves out. I've felt more alive because I've had this quiet time, this time to think rather than going, going, going and missing out on whats really going on. It's weird, because at first you feel guilty, like "I should be doing something" but, then you realize that always having something to do, always feeling a sense of responsibility isn't really good, it's exhausting. We forget about the things that are really the most important--family, loved ones, laughing, learning, enjoying ourselves and focus so much on money, work, material things. It's cliche, but I think about when I die, what would I more likely say-- "I wish I had spent more time with my family/friends, seen more of the world, had more experiences, been happier" OR "I wish I would have gotten that promotion, had more money, worked harder, etc" and the answer is so simple. We have so much in the US, but in my opinion we have it all backwards--we have so much stuff...but what else? Do we really have our priorities straight?

This has been a haphazard-ish blog. I had so much to write about that it probably came out a little disjointed. Thailand is truly magical. The Sanctuary is fabulous. And doing all of this with one of my best friends in the whole world makes it perfect.

If you are interested in the Sanctuary the website is
http://thesanctuarythailand.com/indexF.htm

Oh, and one more cool thing. I am getting my open water scuba diving certification. I've been in class for the past 3 days. I did my first real dives today and LOVED it. More on that later too!

Till India...

Thai state of mind (or being)

I am feeling a little stressed right now. Tiffany procrastinated on getting her visa for India so now we can't leave until June 8th, meaning I have to change my tickets around. However, I haven't heard back from my travel agent and I am on a remote part of the island where Tiff's cell phone doesn't work...not really that big of a deal... if my flights didnt leave tomorrow. Oops.

So as I was fretting about all of this stuff, I walked past this little shop on the beach where we are staying now. It was closed (it was about 10am) and the sign on the door read:

"Most days we open around 9:30 or 10 but it can be as early as 8 but some days its as late as 11 or 12.

We close for afternoon break around 2 but sometimes it can be 3 or as early as 1:30.

We open again at 4 but it may be 4:30 if it's a nice day and we will close for the day at 6:30 but it may be as early as 6pm or as late as 7pm.

Some days we simply aren't here as we are somewhere else but we will always try tp be here when we are not there. "

I LOVE IT. Can you imagine that in the States? People would be rioting if a shop was closed when it said it's supposed to be open. Letters would be written to the Better Business Bureau, local paper, the shop owner--people would boycott it and never return...

So it's a little inconvienence. But it's an inconvienence because someone else is out doing something they enjoy. How do you fault them for that? Yeah, yeah. Responsibility, work ethic, blah, blah...They run the shop because it makes them happy. And if there is something else they would rather be doing, they will do so. And if you don't want to come back, then don't. They are not running their shop for YOU (or me.)

Why can't we adapt that theory? Work because we enjoy it? Find what we REALLY love and do it--for ourselves? It sure makes responsibilities seem a lot less burdensome.

Ok. my daily does of "we really got it wrong in the US"... now I have try to figure out these tickets. Much more on Thailand later.

4 months, 1 backpack

I don't really consider myself high maintenance (I can feel your eyes rolling, Mr. W). But attempting to pack one large backpack for four months would be a daunting task for any average female. Seriously, one pair of jeans? It gives me minor panic attacks just thinking about it.

I am not accustomed to clothes shopping for functionality purposes. Dick's isn't where I usually go to update my wardrobe. So you can imagine my surprise when I found that they make pants that turn into shorts that turn into a sleeping bag and a parachute. Everything is multi-purpose-- quick-drying, waterproof, fire retardant, and reversible. And unfortunately, most leave much to be desired in terms of aesthetics. I've had to do my best to let my snobbery go, remember my purpose for this trip, and try to pack accordingly.

So ladies, prepare yourself for this...deep breaths...here's what I'm taking: ONE, yes, literally, one pair of jeans. A pair of cargo pants that can snap up into capris. A pair of actual capris, and a pair of shorts. 2 sundresses. Lots of tank tops, cause they can fold into 1" x 1" squares, a bathing suit, a sarong (that will also serve as a blanket or towel), 3 pair of socks, a zillion pair of underwear (the one thing I refuse to wear over and over) a light weight rain jacket, a hoodie, and 4 pairs of shoes--tennis shoes, 2 pair of flip-flops and one wedge sandal (my splurge).

Toiletry-wise, I'm bringing a little make-up, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, bug spray with deet (a necessity says Dr. Disease, can't get Malaria if you don't get bitten), advil, toothbrush, toothpaste, etc, etc. All in 3 oz. or less containers, otherwise I'll have to leave them at Port Columbus...because I'm not checking my bag.

Imagine, a 4 month trip with so little luggage that you can carry it on the plane. After wanting to hyperventilate into a paper bag, I do feel a slight bit of pride. I'm going to be wearing the same thing day after day after day...and you know what? I don't care. (Ok, I'm getting there at least...I almost don't care) This trip is not about my wardrobe or lack thereof. Plus, I learned the hard way from my last trip to Thailand, carrying all of your belongings on your back can get really heavy, especially if you are only 5'3" and your backpack is almost your size.

For those of you who have traveled extensively, I know this really isn't that big a deal--people do it all the time, right? But, this is a first for me and it's taken quite a bit of deep thought and consideration to figure out which articles of clothing make the final cut.

So, please think of me as you are walking through Nordstrom's shoe department and tell Anthropologie that I'll miss it dearly, but I will return in September to buy something that cannot hold up against a monsoon but looks really freakin' cute.