TravelStream™ news feed for member packingitin on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/packingitin en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 30 Apr 2009 17:28:26 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1241126760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1241126760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1241126760/tpod.html Thu, 30 Apr 2009 17:28:26 -0400 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

London, Ontario, Canada

Please visit my blog at http://ifiredme.blogspot.com/  if you'd like to continue to follow along! I'll be back on Travelpod as soon as I start traveling again. Thanks!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1239413940/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1239413940/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1239413940/tpod.html Fri, 10 Apr 2009 22:45:47 -0400 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Gili Air, West Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia

What? You thought the blogging was over? Hell I'm just getting warmed up here! Hello? Is this thing on?Those of you who are somewhere in the vicinity of my age might remember a TV commercial from the 80s, or maybe it was the 70s? for Remington shavers. Victor was the guy you saw holding up the shaver and proclaiming, "I liked it so much, I bought the company!" I always felt that to be a little arrogrant and self-promotional (yet obviously catchy, as here I am x number of years later still remembering)....but now I think Victor was actually a pretty cool dude. See, all he was saying was, he loved and believed in something so much, he wanted to bea part of it. He wanted some stake in what happened to it. I like that.So Vic, I apologize for my prior thoughts about you (even though you're 8 years dead).  To show you just how sorry I am, I decided to follow in your footsteps. I liked Gili Air so much, I bought a piece of it. Yep!It's not much - just 1500 square metres of scrub and a couple of coconut trees - but it's mine. What am I going to do with it, you might ask? Oh, I dunno. It took every last dime of savings I had just to buy it, so it's not like I can afford to actually build something on it, like a house, or even a lean-to. Not yet. For now, it will just sit there. Cows will continue to graze on it and coconuts will continue to grow. Sam, my Indonesian business partner (it's a long and complicated transaction) will plant a few fruit trees on it and clean it up a bit. And it will be the foundation for my dreams. A house one day, or maybe a few bungalows for travelers to crash in; an internet cafe and a cappuccino shop? I've come this far in going with my gut, following my heart, doing what feels right. Why stop now? I've seen where life can lead, and I don't mean in a good way. I've seen people with dead eyes trapped in their careers and in their lives (I was one of them), and I've seen wonderful, full lives cut short by terminal illness - even while on this journey. I've seen people save money and put off having fun their whole lives only to have it all disappear in the economic crisis.Buying a chunk of an island in Indonesia might seem a little crazy to some, but as you might have sensed, I'm starting to like crazy. A lot. Crazy works for me. And when stacked up against some of those unsavory options I just mentioned above - it seems right sane, to me. Bravery, living on the edge, insanity, riding it 'til the wheels fall off - whatever you want to call it - is like a set of dominoes stacked up. Deciding to knock over the first one (quitting work a year ago) is the hardest part - but once they start falling, you just sit back and go, "Wheeee!! Isn't it pretty!?"Just like in "Thelma and Louise", my favourite movie reference for this adventure I'm on...one day you're holding up a variety store, stealing mini bottles of Wild Turkey, and the next thing you know you're laughing hysterically as you blow up an oil tanker in the desert. When you've got nothing left to lose, that's the moment you realize you've got everything you've ever wanted. It might all be crazy, but it sure as hell is fun.YEE-HAH!!!!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1238819940/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1238819940/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1238819940/tpod.html Sat, 04 Apr 2009 01:38:40 -0400 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Gili Air, West Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia

Less than a week left here in paradise. It's like a roll of toilet paper: the closer I get to the end, the faster it's going. We all feel like I just got my new visa extension a few days ago. Alas, like mom said, all good things must come to an end (but <i>why must they?) I'm trying every day to keep positive and enjoy every last moment I have here. See, it's not only my time on this incredible island that's wrapping up - it's my whole trip. When all is said and done I'll have been away for 7 months and 2 days. I never imagined I'd survive for this long, or more accurately, be able to keep track of my passport and credit cards for this long. Many seasoned travelers I've met have warned me that the biggest culture shock I will experience on this trip will occur when I return to my very own country. I never quite got that - after all, it's <i>my culture, isn't it? - (the perfect cultural description of my life is in the poem "Raised on Kraft Dinner and Gold Stars" by Nancy Dene)....butit's quickly dawning on me what they meant. Of course, the cost of living will be a huge shocker. No more $1.00 heaping plates of nasi campur, no more three-bbq'd-prawns-the-size-of-my-hand-plus-baked-potato-and-veg for $5.00 (seriously! $5.00!), no more 75-cent perfect pad thai or 90-cent mojitos. I can't even discuss Starbucks (remember back to my Thailand entries and how excited I was to find a Starbucks? Pi-shaw. Fifty-cent Lombok coffee rocks.) No more no-tax, no-tipping restos. Hmm...now that I think of it, "no tipping" might not actually be a rule here....I should probably make the rounds and toss a few rupiah at some people before I go.... No more more-or-less-rules-free living. And then of course there's the culture shock of that whole "work" concept. I haven't worked a single day since May 1, 2008, and it showsin my bank account (love that overdraft protection feature!). I can't even fathom not wearing flip flops and a crumply tee every day, let alone having to pull myself together enough to step into - gasp, wheeze - an <i>office? I can barely say the word (and truly, truly won't go back to one unless I <i>absolutely have to). My body will go into its own culture shock when it's suddenly reminded by me, it's stern and hard-driving master, that 7 months have gone by with nary a stitch of physical activity. Yes, it will be gym shock. And Dri-fit and running shoe shock. etc etc. The shock list could go on forever, but it's not that much fun to think about. So I'mdone. Don't get me wrong - there's a lot of really great stuff to look forward to back in Canada as well. I think it's good that we have dairy products, garbage collection, whole grain bread and manhole covers. I like that we make construction workers wear steel-toed boots and hard hats instead of shorts and flip flops. Health care is pretty cool, too.Our poverty line cuts off at more money annually than these people (and most people in SEA) will probably ever see in their entire lifetimes. But...honestly, who cares what side of the road (or sidewalk) I drive on, as long as there's nobody coming? (and in India, not even that matters!)&nbsp; Do I really need to fill out 3 forms to rent a scooter or a bike, or can you just hand me the keys and say, "Have it back before sunset"? I see 7-year-old children here hacking up coconuts with machetes half the size of their bodies. Maybe we don't need to go quite that far, but I've seen kids that age back home who aren't even allowed to use real cutlery all the time (present company excluded. When I was that age, my ultra-cool parents were building stilts for us and letting us fashion ninja stars out of Campbell's soup can lids.) (We are all fine, thank you.) &nbsp; Something - <i>something - over here (SEA) just works. There might be very few traffic rules (none on Gili Air, as there are no motorized vehicles anyway), but magically there are also very, very few accidents ( I've seen one big one in Bangkok and one minor one in Delhi. That was it.) There is NO road rage.&nbsp; People leave their bicycles and their homes unlocked. If you need something, you ask your neighbour, because your neighbour is your friend. I am especially awed by the village mentality that exists here on Gili Air (and all the Gilis). All for one and one for all, no matter who you are, where you live, or how much money you don't have.&nbsp; If someone on the island dies, the island goes to pay their respects. The standard term of endearment used by my local male peers when they address me is "sister", and "brother" when addressing each other, even when meeting for the very first time. Unless things have changed somewhat in the last seven months, I'm thinking that's probably not what I'll be experiencing back home. So yeah, those travellers were right (and Lis, you were the first one to tell me!). I really AM in for a big bunch of shocks when I get back to Maple Leaf country (ooohhhh.....that must made me think of maple syrup! Haven't tasted that for 7 months!). Heck, I barely remember how to drive (and - <i>which side of the road is it, again?)I totally get how some people, once they start travelling, just never really stop. They go back home just long enough to see loved ones and squirrel away (haven't seen a squirrel for 7 months, either!) enough cash to be able to hit the road again, and they're gone.&nbsp; It's not that I don't appreciate all that I have back in Canada. I know, especially now, how incredibly privileged and fortunate I am and have always been. But I've seen how it all works in other parts of the world now too, and, well.....there's a lot we could learn from them if we'd open our minds and look up from our computer screens now and then (you can wait 'til you've finished reading this). There is just so much world out there. My heart has changed shape forever. I've lopped off tiny pieces and left them in every bungalow, village, city, market, night train, forest and mountain top along the way. I've traded piece of my heart with some absolutelyamazing, amazing people I've had the great fortune to meet. This heart has swelled at a million sights and events (sunrise at the Taj Mahal with my best friend!) and broken a little at some tough goodbyes (Shauna, still miss you every day!).....But no person, place or thing on this whole journey has affected my heart so much, in so many ways, as my life here on tiny little Gili Air, Indonesia. My friends on the island are not saying "goodbye" ; only "see you soon". Yeah, sisters and brothers. See you. Sampai jumpa nanti. I'll be home on April 12th.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1237542000/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1237542000/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1237542000/tpod.html Sat, 21 Mar 2009 01:25:35 -0400 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Gili Air, West Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia

This tiny chunk of land in this country I wasn't even planning to visit has completely stolen my heart. It breaks a little more every time I think about having to leave. It was a day-long ordeal to get a new visa (expensive and illegal) and to change my flight (expensive but at least legal), but it's done, and I'm here until April 11th now. It still sounds way too soon. I've known since the day I first set foot on Gili Air that I was meant to stay here for an extended amount of time, but I wasn't sure why. I still don't know all the reasons, but some very cool ones have been emerging these last weeks. How many coincidences does one have to experience before one stops looking at them as coincidences and starts recognizing them as conspiracies of fate?I only clicked in to this the other day, but since I've been at Sejuk (the bungalows where I stay) there has always been at least one other guest there whom I brought in myself (through referrals etc): Aspen and Isaac. Barb and Doug. Rita. Now Brian and Sheila. It's as though I'm subconsciously building two separate networks: a tourist-based one and a local one. That's right - I've got bona fide friends here now! It took me 4 1/2 hours to make what is normally a 20-minute journey along the beachfront the other day, as I had to stop so many times to chat and have coffee with people. It's glorious to have no schedule; to sit and talk without looking at a clock or worrying about where I'm supposed to be. There are no buses, trains, boats or planes to catch, no itineraries to sort out, no adventures to plan. I can just<i> be. Sometimes, when I'm sitting with my friend Ari the jewelry maker, we don't even talk. He chain smokes and files pieces of coconut shell while we drink strong, sweet Lombok coffee and I greet tourists as they pass by the kiosk. It is quiet and comfortable and familiar, and I can stay there as long as I want. Suzie, the prettiest woman in all of Indonesia, wants to spend a day together in Lombok so she can talk about her boyfriend troubles and I can help her pick out fabrics for her little dress business. There is a sense of belonging that deepens every day and it makes it harder and harder to think about leaving. So I'm continuing to take all of this as a message from the universe; that there is a deeper meaning to my extended stay here. (I've got some other thoughts on this as well that I can't share with you just yet, but I will). The strongest message about why I'm here came in the form of an incredible gift that was bestowed upon me one Saturday morning a couple of weeks ago. The gift was Shauna, my new soul sister. A fellow Canadian, Shauna also quit her high-octane career to head out and see the world (though is way braver than I am, doing a two-year stint,solo!) Our new friendship was cemented on the first day we met, when we danced until sunrise (!) at a beach party (yes, Gili Air actually had a <i>party! With<i> music and <i>dancing!) She was supposed to leave a couple of days later, but thankfully managed to stretch her stay into a full week. It's as though we had a whole lifetime to catch each other up on. How connected can two chicks possibly be? Saying goodbye was painfully sad, but Shauna had orangutans to track in the jungles of Sumatra, and I had...um....more seashells to collect? We've already started planning where I can meet up with her next on her journey (grape stomping in Croatia in September?) You can follow Shauna's adventures at artemisaspires.blogspot.com Shauna: I love all the clothes you left me and think of you every time I wear them, especially the pink headscarf. Here's to us: to topless tans and paper fans, to bad tattoos and.....well, you know the rest. Love ya, sister. Miss you so much it hurts. I'd like to say I have a bunch of other exciting news to share with you, but the truth is, island life isn't all that exciting. It's easy and relaxed and zen-like. There is time and space to think; to float on my back in the salty ocean and stare up at the smudges of clouds pressed into the turquoise sky; to sit on the eastern shore to watch the sun come up, and on the western one to send it sinking in a blaze of pink into the horizon, as we sing along to strumming guitars and eat barbecued fish pulled from the ocean just hours before. To quote my new friends Brian and Sheila: "How much better can things keep getting before they just can't get any better?" I'm so full of contentment I could burst. I feel it vibrating against my fingertips and at the ends of my toes, barely able to be contained in this body. I haven't seen a newspaper, television newscast or even a CNN web page in weeks. From what I hear via emails from friends and from guests who pass through here, though, it's all bad and getting worse. We don't really feel it here, as the local people are so poor they don't really have much to lose in the first place, and the tourists are all here to escape it and talk about anything but. Aside from missing my family and friends and being out of money, if anyone can think of a really great reason why I shouldn't just stay here forever, I'm all ears.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1221938760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1221938760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1221938760/tpod.html Fri, 20 Mar 2009 05:40:21 -0400 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Hvar, Croatia

Serendipity is a crafty creature. It pulls you off your intended path and reminds you that the world is wide and anything - anything- can happen. Serendipity prompts us, often in not-so-subtle ways, that listening to&nbsp;our hearts instead of our heads can take&nbsp;us places we never would have dreamed&nbsp;of, if we let it. &nbsp; My self-imposed timeline of when&nbsp;I have to be where&nbsp;has flown out the window, and&nbsp;I&nbsp;couldn't be happier about it. I am supposed to be in Greece right now, and I have only just arrived in Korcula, with Dubrovnik still to come. &nbsp; Here's why. &nbsp; By what seems to be my new modus operandi, I&nbsp;landed on Hvar and&nbsp;crept through the net of&nbsp;<i>sobe&nbsp;renters. Armed with&nbsp;my Lonely Planet guide, I&nbsp;once again struck out on my own to&nbsp;track down a recommended guesthouse. Now, the guide does also warn that it's amazingly easy to get lost in the maze&nbsp;of steep stairways and&nbsp;narrow streets around the port, and given my&nbsp;(<i>ahem) keen sense of direction, it took&nbsp;me all of about 4 minutes to accomplish. Hvar is such a small town and everyone knows everyone, so they don't really bother with street names. I learned later that I could quite literally address a letter to "Giovanni who owns the water taxi / Hvar, Croatia" and he would receive it directly in hand. &nbsp; Stopping the next passer-by, I&nbsp;asked with hope-filled&nbsp;eyes&nbsp;if he was local and might know where I&nbsp;should be&nbsp;going.&nbsp; &nbsp; Lucky, lucky me.&nbsp; &nbsp; Damir, who lives in Split but summers on&nbsp;Hvar,&nbsp;not only offered to call&nbsp;the guesthouse for me, but insisted on waiting&nbsp;the 5 minutes with me for the owner to come and collect me from&nbsp;in front of the school. When after 20 minutes she still hadn't shown, (Damir informed me that much like in Italy, 5 minutes could mean 30, and 20 could mean an hour), he suggested I check out the guesthouse where he stays when on the island, owned by his childhood friend Nikse and his mother. &nbsp; And here begins an adventure I couldn't have made up if I had tried. &nbsp; Nikse and his mother Maya run a fabulous abode 2 minutes from the town centre, complete with a sea view (as you already saw), olive, pomegranate, lemon and lime trees, a pool, and a ready-made family. My spotless and large room had a private (joy!!) bathroom, TV (absolutely no interest), heating and air con (didn't need either). A whole gang of Nikse's and Damir's friends also stay/live at the guesthouse, most of them owners or captains of water taxis that run back and forth to the Pekleni Islands during the tourist season. Ten minutes after dropping my pack in my cheery room, I was sitting at a portside restaurant with Damir, Nikse, Ante, Giovanni and Jure (twins), and Mario, having a lovely lunch. After some knockout sightseeing (which you also already saw), we all gathered again for dinner. Talk quickly turned to the grape harvest the&nbsp;following morning, and the next thing I knew I was rising with the sun, knocking back strong coffee with Giovanni as we prepared to head up the hill to Nikse's vineyard. &nbsp; Fueled by awesome jelly-filled donuts, we set to work with our knives and clippers, freeing the vines of their fruits. On we worked with the sun moving higher overhead, bees buzzing curiously about, all framed by a sailboat-dotted sea, olive groves and barren fields. It was somewhat solitary work, as only Damir and the twins speak any functional English. They laughed and joked in Croatian and the boys would occasionally fill me in if something was particularly noteworthy or humorous. &nbsp; When all was said and done we had gathered about 20 x 20kg bags of grapes for red wine (a small harvest, about 300L. White wine had been done a few weeks before).&nbsp; After a hearty lunch made by Maya back at the house and a quick&nbsp;icy dip in the pool, It was my turn to shine. Tradition has it that the women of Croatia do the stomping of the grapes, and since I was the only woman there, well....you saw for yourself. The process reminded me of another time not so long ago, when I threw myself into the simple pleasures of cottage-building. It was, however, at the same time a surreal experience. On one hand I was just stomping grapes - something that has been done countless times over thousands of years by billions of other feet. But on the other hand, I was in a <i>vineyard in Croatia, <i>stomping grapes - you know? &nbsp; It was almost meditative, squishing the fragrant little orbs (and unfortunately more than&nbsp;a few bees, earwigs, flies and spiders) into a frothy, sweet mixture. For about an hour I marched through the stew, until Nikse (by some unknown calculation) decided it was ready. After a brief visit by the "doctore" (a highly trained wine specialist), a first glass together&nbsp;and the addition of a few mysterious ingredients to the vat, it was done. &nbsp; The gang and I had become fast friends the day before, but this was a truly bonding experience. When language is a barrier, many&nbsp;subtleties - humour, sarcasm, details - can be lost in translation. But some things, like smiles, camaraderie and a common goal, are universal. &nbsp; In Split, I gained a second mother. In Hvar, I gained 6 new brothers. &nbsp; I was humbled when Damir informed me later that Nikse and his mother refused to take any money from me for my stay at their guesthouse, and that I could stay on as long as I pleased. &nbsp; That should give you a good idea of what kind of people these are. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1236741120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1236741120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1236741120/tpod.html Wed, 11 Mar 2009 00:08:02 -0400 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Gili Air, West Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia

To continue my previous thread, as I never really completed my thought: yes, it's true that I don't know what I'm going to do when I return to Canada. But what I was planning to get at in my last entry and didn't, and what I am trying hard to hang on to, is that it's ok not to know. Being ok with the unknown takes a big heaping dose ofsomething many people, I find, arein short supply of: faith. It's an incredible concept, faith. It's maybe a little like sky diving, or quitting a job you hate, or getting out of a bad relationship: avoidance might seem easier than actually going through with it, but if you could just close your eyes and take the leap - man would your life improve tenfold! (ok maybe you're thinking sky diving won't improve your life tenfold. But maybe it will. How do you know? In the most famous words of the Gili Islands, (and it applies to all&nbsp;sorts of things),&nbsp;"Never Try Never Know".)&nbsp; You even have a whole variety of&nbsp; faith options to choose from: faith in yourself. Faith in a higher being. Faith in your family and friends. A combination of all of them. Whatever works for you - as long as you find some kind of faith.I spent most of my teenage and adult life with little to no faith in myself. But I don't want to talk about that, because it's behind me. I bought my ticket to the faith party last year and it's been a real barn-burner ever since. Sure, there are lots of moments when they play a crappy song or run out of punch, but ultimately if I keep on dancing,things always turn around.So that's where I'm at now. There's a big pile of unknown staring me in the face. I doubt I could count how many of those there've been in the last 14 or so months. Quitting my career. Quitting another job after that. Selling my home. Buying a one-way ticket to some place named Zagreb. etc etc. Each one has required a proverbial leap of faith andat times some really fancy footwork at the dance, but - and here's the real kicker -<i> it's all worked out so far! How 'bout that? I pulled my Thelma and Louise move over 365 days ago, and I'm better, stronger, happier and more faith-full than I've ever been in my life before. Ever. I just gotta keep on dancing.Gili Air update (or as my mom refers to it, Giligan's Island): Oh man. Man oh man oh man do I LOVE IT HERE. Is there any place like this on earth? Of course there is, but I haven't been there yet, so who cares? What a brilliant decision it was to come back to this tiny paradise, this little circle of land stuck out here in the ocean. How smart tobegin wrapping up my travelshere. It slows my heartrate (if it could possibly get any slower), it soothes my soul, it touches the centre of my being. The only things that exist here in any vast quantity are horse carts, (adorably misinterpreted as "Oscar" by Fabien) ("Why are they all named Oscar?" so cute!), coconut trees, sand, ocean, andgrazing land for cows, goats and chickens. (Once again, that's all about to change - but I don't wanna talk about that either. It gets my heartrate up.)Time moves at a glacial pace here and days just magically melt away and blend one into the other. Ask someone how long they've been on the island and their eyes kind of glaze over before they reply, "I think 2 days. Or is it 6?" The biggest decision in my day is which direction to take for my morning walk around the island (takes less than an hour to power-walk the whole way 'round), and which little restaurant to choosefor my lunch or dinner. The people are lovely, the ocean is warm and crystal clear, the fruit is fresh and the beer is cheap. We haven't gone fishing yet as the currents haven't been right (don't ask me - no clue - I just know that Sam looked up at a tiny crescent of moon in the sky a few nights ago, hanging there like a phosphorescent hammock strung up amid the stars, and said "Oh! Good fishing in a few days!" To know that man can still be so connected with nature is astounding and reassuring.) Meanwhile I have the time and the inclination to marvel at the most seemingly mundane things: the pattern that crystals make inside an ice cube as the water freezes; the correct lyrics to the Jason Mraz song "I'm Yours"; the difference in texture between a young coconut and a mature coconut; how to count to 10 in Indonesian.I've offered to take the very sick little resident kitten at my hotel over to Lombok tomorrow to get it some veterinary care, my treat. No clue how much that'll cost me, but she's my buddy and I can't just let her suffer, and nobody else can afford the medicine. So that's the Gili Air scoop. I'm tanned, I'm happy, I'm relaxed, I'm so so good. I've got 12 days left to go.More recent update: so I wrote all that down days ago, but only just now transcribed it to the internet. I am down to only 4 days left, but in a sudden recent epiphany have decided to change my flight, extend myvisa and hang out here for a few more weeks! I am just not ready to leave this place, and my new friends here. Besides, we still haven't gone fishing. :)PS - never did find the vet on Lombok, but got the kitten some vitamins and she's doing tons better.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1235379300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1235379300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1235379300/tpod.html Wed, 25 Feb 2009 21:39:52 -0500 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Nusa Lembongan, Indonesia

(Note: the map pin for this is totally wrong, obviously. I am not in the middle of the ocean off the coast of Africa. I promise). Also having a hard time uploading photos again. Sorry.Months ago when learning of my impending voyage, one of the firstquestions everyone would invariably ask me was, "But what are you goingto do when you get back?" I understand why. I do. Don't think I haven'tasked myself the same question a zillion times. But rather than  juststraight-old-answer it I prefer to look at the root of the questionitself. Most of us are accustomed to a lot of structure. To securityand stability and to knowing at least in some measure what the futureholds. We are trained to have plans and we are used to having plans.(My friend Christina earns all of my envy in the category of plan andgoal making, by the way). Road maps are how the vast majority navigatetheir way from point A to point B in life, and in many cases they arethe key to success. So it is normal to wonder what a woman who's gonecompletely off the road map (in so very many ways) is going to do whenshe has to get back on it. And after all these months, so many amazingexperiences, so many incredible people I have encountered, I can tellyou the answer I've come up with: I don't know. I didn't know then andI don't know now. It's a terrifying reality. I don't have a plan. Itwas really nice - <i>really nice - to not think about it for a fewmonths. That time is coming to an end now, and it's pretty scary. But Ido have a hope and a dream. And that's a seed, and that's a start. Iknow I want to write, and I know that it's pretty unfathomable to thinkabout going back to a 9 to 5 job of any sort. Not much that'sconstructive in there, but what can I tell you. I'm trying not to letthe subject invade my every waking moment; otherwise I might as welljust write off the last few weeks of my travel and go home now. Andthat would be a shame, because I love it here. What's not to love abouta country where things that were popular back home in the '80's -likeFanta orange soda, cassette tapes, Nescafe and John Denver - are stillgoing full-force? (As a side note, in case anyone is interested, J.D.is huge in Thailand as well. Fab and I heard "Take me Home CountryRoad" about a dozen times. Once, performed live by two Thai guys withbanjos.)Oh, wait - I know what's not to love! I got told today, but good. Getthis: I pull my scooter up to a little snack shack (basically lean-to'sthat sell cold drinks, pre-fab mystery snacks, machetes, chicken feedand skin-whitening cream) and ask for a bottle of water. Anyenglish-speaking Indonesian will ask a tourist the same questions:Where you from, what's your name, where you going, when you get here,when you leaving, you alone? Those more proficient in English will tackon a few extra, increasingly-personal questions, which is what happenedto me today. The proprietor of the shack fired off a battery ofquestions faster than a machine gun fires ammo. My head was spinning.When we got to "Are you married?"  ("No") and "How old are you?"("40"), there was a sudden silence. He was out of ammo. It lasted about5 full seconds, and was followed by a simple and heartfelt, "Sorry,ya?"  Me: "Why are you sorry?" Him: Puzzled facial expression, as in,"Isn't it obvious?" accompanied by, "Because you 40 and you notmarried." Well. There you have it. I've been unceremoniously voted off themarriage island by a Lembonganese lean-to owner. No offense intended,I'm sure. But just to make certain I understood how badly he felt, hethrew in two more "Sorry, ok?"'s before I could pull away. I don't evenremember him handing me the water, or the money changing hands. Somesubjects are like annoying neighbours: You can do all you want topretend they're not there, but they'll always find some way to get allup in your face. Next day: Something else not to love. Had my flips stolen off mybalcony last night. My awesome camouflage supercomfy Reef flips thatI've been wearing every day for months. Gone. One of the hotel staffwas kind enough to run over to the lean-to and buy me a new pair sothat I wouldn't have to a) go barefoot, or b) pay the tourist price.And then he asked me if he could keep 5,000 rupiah for his efforts.Sure kid. You need it more than I do. Maybe the gods are trying to tell me that it really <i>is time to go home. Nusa Lembongan is one of those islands that I assessed on the day of myarrival and quickly decided that I wouldn't be here long. Two days,max. Yet here I am, and 4 days have already slipped by (actually 6 daysat the time of typing this). When not trapped by torrential, torrentialrainstorms (torrential), I'm (wow, here's a newsflash!) exploring on myscooter. It's a very poor island, surviving on seaweed cultivation andnow tourism dollars. As I ride through the tiny villages I see hugetarps spread out on the ground piled with seaweed in greens, browns andbeiges, rubbery-feeling and fishy-smelling, drying in the sun. Thevillagers dock their little wooden boats on the beach at sunrise andload the ocean's weeds into woven baskets suspended from yokes carriedby waiting wives up to their villages. What I didn't like about theisland at first - how disjointed the very few developed areas are, howyou can't really walk anywhere because everything is so far apart - isnow kind of what I love about it. (That and my awesome ocean-view room,the one that I will now lock everything inside of every night). I discovered a crazy-beautiful piece of land near Dream Beach - noteven sure what it's called,  I think it's Sunset Beach - but it's whereI chose to make my video for The Greatest Job in the World (which Ispent hours making, which I then couldn'd load to the internet. Theregoes that opportunity). After that bomb of an effort I sat at a cafelooking out over cliffs and crashing turquoise waves and couldn't helpbut wonder why nobody had snatched up the surrounding farmland andbuilt resorts on it. Turns out they have, big-time. It's all bought up.If you want to see the Dream Beach area in all its unspoiled glory,it's now or never. Like in Southern Laos, I feel lucky to haveexperienced this place when I did, and also feel sad for its future.That's progress for you. I looked up the word "pink" on synonym.com and this is what it spitout: "chromatic".  Not quite enough to describe what I witness atsunset here every night. What about rose, peach, salmon, fuchsia,baby's bottom and blush, just to name a few?  It's astounding. I've also been loading up on western food the whole time on the island.A big perecentage of the properties here are owned by Australians andNew Zealanders, so the quality of the western food rocks. I've hadawesome burgers, pizza....you know, all the healthy stuff. Anyway it'sa nice change from rice and fish. I finally tore myself away after 6 days, ready to sail to other shores. What will I do when I land on the shore known as the doorstep of my parent's home in a few weeks? Nope. Still don't know. I'm off to the Gilis tomorrow.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1234767540/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1234767540/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1234767540/tpod.html Mon, 16 Feb 2009 02:15:51 -0500 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Kuta, Bali, Indonesia

A sunrise trek up to the top of (still active!) Gunung Batur volcano seemed like a grand idea, so we continued on to the (hole) town of Toya Bungkah (too lazy to look up correct spelling) at the base of the volcano and signed up for a 4 am trek for the next day. Not sure if we're just gluttons for punishment, or what. But the expensively-guidedtrek was a total bust. There we were at 4 am, precariously clambering and scrambling our way up the slippery and deeply-creviced lava in the pitch black.Gale-force winds, cold, pounding rain and fog so thick that I could barely see where I was walking let alone any scenery or a sunrise. When we finally made it to the top, we huddled shivering and wet in the bamboo lean-to while a woman (who started the trek about 30 minutes after us and reached the top about 45 minutes before us, and in dollar-store flip-flops) made us coffee and tea. The guide steamed our breakfast (eggs and banana sandwiches) in a litlte naturally boiling hot crevice in the volcano (kind of neat). We saw absolutely nothing, but had to laugh anyway. Heck, we were at the top of an active volcano.In Indonesia. Having coffee. And who could be upset with a guide that states "Sorry....nature controls the weather, not me", in such anapologetic tone that we almost felt bad for the guy. We climbed back down, checked out of our crappy guesthouse (yet another one where Fab saw a cockroach but didn't dare tell me) and got out of Dodge. Half an hour of waiting for a bemo on the side of the road produced zero results. Just as we were getting very discouraged (and very wet), a good samaritan pulled over his minivan and drove us all the way to Ubud. For free. He absolutely would not take any money from us. It gave me the shivers. Locals just don't normally act this way towards tourists. We were touched. Ubud is a lovely, lovely city, and the cultural centre of the island. Big, touristy, busy, but somehow still very authentic feeling, if you can make sense of that. We had no trouble getting off the tourist track and into the middle of local life - rice paddies, etc. The selection of restaurants, shopping and accommodations is dizzying, but not likeBangkok-dizzying. It's quite intriguing to examine the work of all the different artists - painters, wood carvers, sculptors, dancers and the like. While ostensibly geared to tourists, it was charming to be in a place that felt steeped in and close to its cultural roots. Also, I kept an eye out for Elizabeth Gilbert (the author of Eat, Pray, Love, who spent 4 months here while writing her book), just in case she was in town and needed me to help her with her next novel or something. Didn't see her. If anyone hears that she's looking for me, let me know, ok? After several days in Ubud the call of duty brought us back to crazy Kuta Beach. We both had flights to catch. So here's the update on that: As has been but one of the common threads running through the tapestry of this adventure I am on, the best decisions are rarely the easiest ones. I made the tough decision toskip New Zealand and instead stay in Indonesia for another month, alone, and to end my travels here, alone. I am at the end of the road. Many factors played into the decision, money being a big one. I'm pretty much out of it, and NZ is pricy. I was so taken with Gili Air that I decided a day after we arrived there that I would end my travelsthere. It seems like the perfect place to try to process all that has happened (so much!) and all that is about to happen (I have no idea, but I hope something) when I return home a few weeks from now. I will live in my little bungalow, read, write and fish for my dinner, and let my thoughts bob about like buoys on the sea. I am even considering using the time to try to get back into shape a little bit. (<i>Considering.) I will try to re-centre all of the scattered feelings I have about going back to the real world. I don't know what I feel about it, but I promise to write about it when I do. Fab should be almost back to France by now and has his own big plans to make for his year travelling and working in Canada (felicitations!) If anyone across the country has work or accommodations they can offer up,please let me know and I'll put you in touch with him. Bonne chanceFab, et continue bien! As for me, I'm on the road again. I'm taking off tomorrow at a very unreasonable hour to head to the island of Nusa Lembongan, to once again take a chance on snorkeling. Maybe the ocean is in a better mood by now? I'll see. From there, on to my mini-life on Gili Air for a while. For now, I'm off to stock up on reading material at the usedbookstore. You know, for the days when the fish aren't biting.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1234756860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1234756860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1234756860/tpod.html Mon, 16 Feb 2009 01:29:13 -0500 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Kuta, Bali, Indonesia

I've secretly been a bit proud of the fact that I never slacked too far off my blogging duties in all this time traveling (5 months as of Feb 10th!)....but finally here I am, just like Lucille Ball in that episode at the chocolate factory,as my friend Dave S. so wittily referred to in his blog (which is a gazillion times better than mine). Way behind, and stuffing chocolates into any space I can find. Don't know if it's the weather or the fact that my travels are coming to an end (more on that in the blog), but I just haven't felt inspired to write. Which is a weird and disconcertingfeeling, since writing is a passion of mine and what I hope to base some sort of career on upon my return to the real world. Hm.I hate to put you through this kind of "summary" update, but it seems the least painful way (for both you and I) to bring you up to speed. You don't have to suffer through 19 screens of writing, and I don't have to write it. When I last signed off Fab and I were headed to tiny Gili Air to hang out for a few days. BLISS! I loved the place immediately. You can walk around the whole thing in a couple of hours, and large chunks of it are as yet undeveloped (not for long, unfortunately). Tourism and local life are perfectly intermingled here, and it's charming. We scored an incredible bungalow (with hot water!) at a fabulous place owned by a man who comes from the same city in France as Fabien (Lyon), so Fab was happy to have someone to finally speak proper french with(instead of my fumbling, mangled Quebecoise). The bungalows are dotted throughout a beautiful garden/jungle setting full of papaya, frangipani, hibiscus and coconut trees. If you don't scuba dive there isn't much to do on Gili Air, but that's the whole point. The few times we set out to snorkel were pretty much all thwarted by the ever-present jellyfish (no idea why they seem to congregate most heavily around this island). We biked a little and walked a lot. We headed inland to the "market" (a few dubious-looking fruits and veg and some dried fish and whatnot) and actually managed to cobble together all the ingredients to make our own guacamole! It probably won't win any awards at the Mexican Culinary Festival (there must be one), but it was fun anyway. More interesting were the 2 times we got to go fishing with Bernard (owner of the bungalows) and some of his staff. Fishing is a daily ritual and a way of life on the islands and I was humbled and honoured to take part. It's nothing fancy - a spool of heavy fishing line which you dispense and reel in by hand, asinker and a couple of hooks. You skewer some dead little fish onto the hooks, chuck the whole thing into the ocean, and wait. Patience and understanding are the virtues here. Sometimes you catch nothing. Mosttimes the fish outsmart you and manage to eat the bait without getting hooked themselves. But sometimes you get lucky. I caught 4 little guys the first day! Who knows what kind they were - nobody here cares, they eat it all, regardless - but 2 were red and pretty. The staff prepared us a lovely dinner that night, featuring our fish. We tried our luck again the next day (tally: Cara-3 Fab- 3) and donated our catch to the staff/fishermen. For us, it's fun. For them, it's a way to feed their families every day. It was the least we could offer. Gili Air locals have their own cuisine which is unique to the island and which they are rather proud of. It's delicious and cheap (no 20% tax here like on Gili T!) and we got to taste things with cool names like "tumpi-tumpi" (deep fried balls made of potato, rice flour and some other stuff) that don't exist elsewhere in Indonesia. It's also lovely to have breakfast included in the room rates, which is pretty standard throughout Indonesia. It's especially pleasing when you happen upon a place that serves up a good breakfast, which we did on Gili A. I'm doing my best to learn to love the plentiful local fruits. No prob with the usual suspects of course - bananas, pineappple, watermelon...but having a little more trouble with papaya (never liked it but still trying), salak (aka "snakeskin fruit") and mangosteens. I do however love rambutan - very similar to lychees but more tasty. Sadly mangos aren't in season, but avocados seem to be and I can't get enough of them (the ultimate treat being at Bamboo Corner on Bali atKuta Beach, where half a huge avocado stuffed with shrimp will set you back a whole dollar). The rain finally caught up to us on GA. We gave up trying to avoid the several-times-a-day drenchings. Heck, it's only water. And mud. And sand, and gravel. And on one occasion here in Kuta, poo. But I can't talk about that. After a few days we moved on, but not before I vowed to come back to GA. More on that in a bit. We hopped a boat and overnighted in the port town of Padangbai on our way up the east coast of Bali. It took some tricky negotiating to convince a bemo to deliver us to Jemeluk, one of several tiny fishing villages in the area collectively referred to as "Amed" for tourism purposes (Amed is but the first of the many villages). The area is known for its diving and snorkeling and we were looking forward to exploring the two very accessible shipwrecks in thearea ( a Japanese fishing boat and the US Navy cargo ship Liberty). Unfortunately the ocean was in a big snit and had been for about 10 days prior, according to some frustrated divers we met at our guesthouse in Jemeluk. No snorkeling at all. Zero. But it was mesmerizing to watch and listen to the waves pounding the foundation of our guesthouse (when constructed about 10 years ago the guesthouse enjoyed about 15 feet of beachfront at high tide. Now they have about negative 5 feet. Cool for us, scary for them). The weather also pretty much totally sucked, but we just scootered around like always, in our rain ponchos, singing reggae songs as we drove through the manyvillages (of wildly varying degrees of friendliness - some downright unwelcoming /scary) and past terraced rice fields, jungle, volcanoes and cliffs. Ok this is getting long, so I'll break it up. Next up: a side trip to Gunung Batur.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1233204060/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1233204060/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/packingitin/1/1233204060/tpod.html Wed, 28 Jan 2009 23:57:41 -0500 Packing It In: A Map For Happiness

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Gili Trawangan, West Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia

(Sorry....for some reason am unable to load photos....will try again soon. Please read anyway! :)&nbsp; ) Jan.22: I can remember back to my high school days in the 80s when Iwould calculate what year I would turn 40. The year 2009 sounded almostotherworldly back then; like a futuristic time that would never reallyarrive. It was too far off to perceive as being plausible. Yet a blinklater here I am, on the sunset of my 30s. In regard to the myriadscenarios I imagined over the decades about what my life might looklike at this stage of the game, the reality could not be farther fromany of them. This is not a bad thing. It is just a thing. And as I sithere in this remote, isolated mountain village on the island of Flores,where there are no telephones and no banks and no tourists, I strugglenot to let myself feel disappointed about how my birthday plans areturning out. This is not the hotel I dreamed of - not even close. Thereis no decent restaurant. There is no place for us to buy supplies forour sunrise trek to Kelimutu tomorrow. The cartel that the villagershave formed guarantees that we pay exorbitant prices for everything,no matter who we try to bargain with. But as I let these thoughts and emotions simmer, a peacefulrealization: these- the struggles and disappointments and unfulfilleddreams of my perfect special day- are but a reflection of the biggerpicture of life on whole. Life never turns out as we planned. But thatdoesn't make it bad. The only option is to play the cards we're dealtto the best of our abilities. Take a situation and make it good. I amso fortunate to be here (to be anywhere, really) - on this stunningisland in the middle of the ocean. I am alive and healthy and blessedand happy and so far away from the confines of my former life. Myfriend flew half-way around the world to spend my birthday with me. Hearrived with a backpack full of french cheeses, bread, sausage, wineand chocolates, which we consumed in short order and with big smiles. This night will absorb the last moments of my 30s and the day willdawn on the first hours of my 40s tomorrow. My day will be what it willbe. We are where we are and we have what we have. Just like in life, itis my attitude that will determine how things turn out, not materialgoods or other distractions. My birthday, like life, may not be perfector quite what I had imagined. But that doesn't make it any lessspectacular to be present for. I will have a very happy birthday. Moni, Flores, NusaTenggara, Indonesia: Jan 23: A 4am wakeup and a 4:30 am departure hadus at the summit of Kelimutu volcano with our new Swiss friends Charlyand Monique before 6 am. Here at the volcano, set into deep craters,are three coloured lakes of astonishing beauty. The lakes change colourperiodically; and though nobody knows why or how for certain, it isbelieved that dissolving minerals are responsible. Locals hold Kelimutusacred, believing that the souls of the dead go to these lakes: youngpeople's to Tiwa Nuwa Muri Koo Fai (Turquoise Lake), old people's toTiwi Ata Mbupu (Brown Lake) and those of the wicked to Tiwi Ata Polo(Black Lake). I wanted to be here to witness the sunrise on this day inparticular. Not only is it fascinating to watch the sun play off thelakes as it rises higher in the sky, but from here one can see formiles in all directions. Here, with this unobstructed view, I was ableto witness something even more extraordinary than the shifting coloursof the lakes: my life - 40 years of living - stretching out towards thehorizon. I could plainly see how ever day, month and year had led tothis place and to this moment. My future, my fate, my yesterday and mytoday, my here and now, have been and always will be, hurtling towardsme at the speed of light.The rest of the day was....well, we'll just say it's a birthday Iwon't forget anytime soon. We made the best of what we had to workwith, and the joyously young-spirited Charly and Monique were a bighelp in that regard. There was a birthday "cake" (see photos), a dinner(we are not at all sure we didn't eat dogmeat) and, in tremendouscontrast, a bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne (Fab fit so much goodstuff in that backpack!).When examined on a micro level, as I said, there aredisappointments (on birthday, in life). But when I look at the bigpicture of both of these events, how could I feel anything less thantotally blown away?-----------------------------Jan 29: The days prior to my birthday were spent chilling out inultra-touristy Kuta Beach, Bali, and in trying to get to the island ofFlores in time for my birthday (no small or inexpensive feat). AfterFlores we plodded our way back west to Lombok and on to the teenyisland of Gili Trawangan. Touristy, laid-back, expensive, but with somegood snorkeling. Today I thought it might be brilliant if we hit theocean with our snorkel gear early in the morning for the best chance ofviewing sea turtles and other more rarely-seen ocean life that tends togo into hiding when the sun gets too hot. I was right - there was allkinds of fascinating marine life at this time of the day, includingabout a billion jellyfish of every size who took to treating us todozens of stings all over our bodies. At least we got to see one turtlebefore we floundered our way frantically back onto dry land. It's hard to believe that we've already been in Indonesia for 2weeks and that I don't have more to report or more photos to post.Truthfully, a large chunk of our time was unfortunately spent intransit with a lot of that transit taking us to completely forgettableand depressing towns like Maumere and Ende on Flores for flight/busconnections etc. There hasn't been much to photograph, and as far asactivities go, so far Indonesia has been much more about taking in thespectacular landscape than anything else. Life is also incredibly hothere at the Equator and it's tough to find energy to do much ofanything between 11 am and 4 pm. Despite it being the rainy seasonthere has been only 1 day of solid rain (the day I arrived). The restof the time, it rains (hard) at night or in sudden, short and violentcloudbursts during the day. If I had to choose one word to sum up thefood so far, it would be "disappointing". "Nasi Goreng" (fried rice) isthe typical Indonesian dish, so nothing interesting to report there atall. Here on Gili T, western food dominates - everything from fish andchips to Mexican food to pasta - so it's hard to get a feeling of whatthe true cuisine - or the people, for that matter - is truly about. We'll keep plugging away and see what interesting experiences wecan uncover in our remaining two weeks. We're off to the even tinierisland of Gili Air shortly, and then eventually back to Bali to explorethe east and north coasts.
]]>