Month: June 2017

Bali, Part II: Sunrise in Paradise

Even though it was a rough start in Bali, the week was looking up.

Going on a sunrise trekking tour and hiking up a volcano set things in motion again. We left 3:00 AM and it took us over two hours to get to the top. I hadn’t slept for over 24 hours and was on a fitness bender from running for an hour the day before. But I still had tons of energy for the hike.

Upon reaching the top, the sky was a dark rainbow spectrum slowly giving way to a new day. It was one of those moments where we were so beautifully present, that time feels like it has stopped. 

Later that day, I took an introduction course on scuba diving before going into open waters the next day. 

Scuba diving was a thing on my bucket list for ten years and I finally got to cross it off. My instructor said that I’m a natural and that diving certification is something I should consider. I will, just not this time. I was testing the waters first. (Pun intended.)

We went diving at the Liberty Shipwreck site, an area with so many tropical fish! It truly felt otherworldly. The weightlessness gave an idea of what it must be like in outer space. I absolutely loved diving and navigating the coral-covered shipwreck. The hardest part for me was getting back on land. It was like having to wash back up to reality, back on the unsettling solid ground.

I have left Bali, Indonesia, thus completing the second leg of this worldwide tour. It has been an intense seven weeks, to say the least.

I’m the kind of person who likes to have everything planned out: who I’m with, what we will be doing, where I’m staying. Southeast Asia is so diverse, that the choices were overwhelming. So, I left that leg of the trip mostly open, instead roughly mapping out the route of where I wanted to go and how to get there. I didn’t know what to expect even after doing the research and homework, so it seemed better to wait and see how things actually were once I arrived. And it was a good thing that there weren’t rigid plans. For example, Saigon wasn’t my cup of tea, so I left a day early. Chiang Mai was probably my favorite part. I also had reached an emotional breaking point anyway, so I decided to take my time there the most.

I’m not entirely sure how those seven weeks have changed me. It was the leg of the trip where I really was traveling solo, meeting many wonderful people along the way. My sense of direction is returning, too. It’s not perfect, but it’s certainly better than a year ago. Being in new environments has forced me to look outward instead of being so wrapped up in my own head.

In addition, I have learned to drive a motorbike, went scuba diving, got into a few accidents (and actually had to pay money for one), learned to negotiate prices, picked up the basics of the languages, learned to cook Vietnamese dishes, navigated among language barriers, went to a meditation retreat, and had my heart broken the same time one of my best friends shared that she has cancer. I learned to really sit with pain, the cleansing fire that tore the last shreds of an old existence out so that new seeds can be sown.

“I’ve met travelers like you come and go. A lot of them are trying to find themselves or whatever light they are seeking. It could be the man who went though a divorce or the woman who is running from a traumatic past. Everyone has a story and happiness to find. But you know what, you don’t need to look so hard. You don’t have to go to the ends of the earth to find it. The light is already within you; it’s already there! You’re just still opening your eyes to fully see it.”

-The hotel owner of a place I already forgot the name of

Usually change trickles in slowly as things fall further into place. People have said with that a three month trip like this, it might take months or even years for all of it to sink in. Some other travelers will go even longer. I can’t say that a lot of change has come, but there has certainly been a shift in this spiral. 

There is still one more month left. I have since had a layover in Brisbane, Australia. Now I’ve made the final stop in Wellington, New Zealand, thus beginning the last leg of the worldwide trip. Speaking of change, going from a tropical climate to peak winter over in NZ is something to get used to.

Let’s do this.

Bali, Part I: Darkness in Paradise

After a super delayed flight from Kuala Lumpur, I practically crashed in Bali. Somewhat literally.

It was a bit of a rough start in Bali. The day after I arrived, I went out for a run. I suddenly crashed into a sign which knocked into a parked vehicle. There were scratches and the driver would not let me go until I paid for the damages. It wasn’t too much money, but that experience made me feel even worse. The owner of the hostel I stayed at said that shit happens and that money is a tool that can always be replaced.

I eventually made it up to Ubud and did a mapped-out walking/hiking tour from the Bali/Lombok Lonely Planet guide book. It is for anyone who has free time and wants to see the rice paddies and farms outside the town.

Don’t be like me and hike alone, especially if you’re a solo female. There were snarling feral dogs and, to make matters worse, a man was followed me on his motorbike. Every time I turned around to confront him, he sped off before I had a chance to get his license plate number. My phone won’t make outgoing calls anymore, so if something goes wrong, I can’t call for help. Eventually I arrived at a village where I felt safer. That is the last time I’m ever hiking alone.

Even though it was a rough start in Bali and the feeling of looking forward to leaving was there, I made it a point to be mindful that those incidents can happen anywhere in the world. It helped to remind myself to not let those define my time in this place.

So, I’ve mostly stayed in Ubud. This is a town that breathes art, culture, and mindfulness, and so I felt right at home. I just wish there was a friend or someone I could share experiences in this town with.

Ubud also has an organic vegan cinema called Paradiso. When I first went there, I had a raw vegan chocolate cupcake while watching “20th Century Women” on the big screen. Can I just stay here forever?

Everywhere in Bali, there are little offerings set outside of homes and storefronts. This is done year round.

I also saw a dance performance called the Barong.

The dance reflects a central theme of Balinese cosmology. Life is understood to exist on the cusp between chaos and order. Too much chaos and everything disintegrates; too much order leads to stagnation. A dynamic balance between the two is optimal. The dance between the forces is eternal. Neither is ever vanquished and the dynamic is confirmed by the equilibrium at the end of the event.

I have reached a point in my worldwide journey where I feel this distant ache, one where it hasn’t really bothered me before. Maybe it was growing and has gotten big enough to be apparent. Despite being a solitude-loving introvert, there is one thing I’ve finally admitted: I’m lonely and homesick.

Usually I enjoy my own company, and while I’ve met and made friends with some awesome people during this journey, this overhanging feeling of emptiness has been lurking like a shadow.

In the book Eat Pray Love, Liz Gilbert mentions that Bali locals will ask, “where are you going?” They do this because they’re very concerned with the “order of things.” Everyone has a place in the universe, and if you’re lost, that can stress them out. They don’t really care what you say, as long as you give a good enough answer and know where you’re going. (Example: “Just down the street.”) I never looked for verifying information, but some locals have asked me that and I just went along with it. And they seemed relieved with whatever answer I gave them.

It made me think that my state of mind is lost when homesickness permeates through. It certainly messes with the order of things in my own existence. Even though Ubud is a lovely town, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of wishing there was a friend to share this time with, even if it’s just a few days. In the interwoven fabric of community and friends, it has felt like being a stray thread frayed on the edge.

But you know, maybe this homesickness is normal for solo travelers to go through. I made the choice of doing this worldwide trip, and good things aren’t always easy to go through. As cheesy as it sounds, I’ve been re-learning that what keeps us going is how we’re able to stay hopeful and not let anyone take it away; either abroad or even when shit back home hits the fan. It can be deceptively simple at times, though.

Take a deep breath… I will continue onward in spite of. I will continue to meet people and listen to their stories. I will keep running, keep eating delicious vegan food, keep writing, keep meditating, keep growing, keep planning, keep going, keep breathing, keep loving…

I will keep on keepin’ on.

Siem Reap, Cambodia

I took the train from Bangkok to the border town Aranyaprathet. From there, I rode to the border via tuk-tuk to get my passport stamped out of Thailand. Being stamped out of one country before being admitted to another was a surreal chaotic limbo at the border crossing to Poi Pet, Cambodia. There are people gambling away at casinos between the two checkpoints, while food vendors slowly push their carts along. I walked the 200 meters to the Cambodian border, ignoring touts offering help obtaining a visa. (It’s a scam.)

I quickly filled out the application for admission to Cambodia. The quiet Cambodian official stamped my passport and issued the visa without any problems. From there, I walked another hundred meters to a seating area for a vehicle that takes passengers to the bus depot, which transports to Siem Reap.

Poi Pet is a notorious crossing with scammers that could win Oscar awards with their convincing tactics. There were six backpackers, and a man who seemed like a compelling government official said that he could arrange a tuk-tuk to take us to the bus depot for just 100 Baht. (Cambodia uses both Thai and U.S. currencies.) We thought, sure, why not. It beats waiting an hour.

There was an uneasy feeling in my gut about this guy, though. He seemed…a little too enthusiastic as a guide. Surely enough, about 2 km in, he pointed and said, “that’s our van. We’re getting off here. That will be 200 Baht.”

If we had waited for five more minutes, that van would have been there to pick us up from the border. Also, he changed the deal on us. The six of us firmly made the driver pull over to the van. We had a deal, and that deal was to get us to the bus depot for 100 Baht–not to the side of the road for twice that much. Because we barely went anywhere, we refused to pay. We didn’t care if we were driven for just 2 km–scamming people is clearly never okay, and we weren’t going to let this guy get away with it. The “agent” was deflated because he was caught. He then said he should come with us to Siem Reap because there are language barrier “obstacles” he can help us get through. Our response: “Get lost.”

And that marked my welcome into Cambodia.

Practically the main reason people visit Siem Reap, Cambodia is to see the archeological temple site, Angkor Wat. The rest of the week in Siem Reap spun in motion.

There was one thing that was on my mind for a while. It didn’t matter that when I test drove a motorbike in Vietnam, I crashed into a wall. Learning to drive one was still high on my agenda, and crashing almost made me give up that goal on my list. But I couldn’t stop thinking about trying again. Sometimes, my stubbornness (determination?) can override all common sense.

At the hotel, I asked for the smallest engine they had, which was 100 cc. After test driving for 20 minutes without any incident, the hotel owner told me to go for it. So, I drove to Angkor Wat, and it went quite smoothly! It was actually easy once I got the hang of it. The traffic is more benign in Cambodia than Vietnam. The meditation and mindfulness practice must be paying off, because I had been able to stay cool-headed even when the traffic became heavy.

For much of my life, I was instilled with fear: “Don’t do this, don’t do that–you’ll fail and look like a fool. You’ll never be able to do that. You’re not good enough. You don’t even get things right the first time. You will get hurt and we need to keep you safe, so just don’t try anything where you’re likely to fail.”

Isn’t it amazing, how traveling can show us we might be more capable of things than we realize?

Before the sun was up, it was just me and the road. Sitting on the bike felt solid and stable, even before switching on the engine. I turned the throttle to accelerate, the cool wind rushing past my face. Breathing in every moment, the taste of freedom.

And that’s how I went around Angkor Wat. That entire site was at one point a civilization of one million people, while London was a mere 50,000.

My favorite part was Ta Prohm, where the ancient temple and nature have fused.

The trees have taken over the temple walls, and you could almost feel the life pulsing through. Every stone in the wall and every single root grown over was a reminder that the earth can heal itself.

It also served as a reminder of our own mortality, how we might remembered…or forgotten.

A while ago another traveler warned about “temple burn out” and I’m starting to get what he meant, but there’s still so much to see.

After Siem Reap, I had a 9-hour layover in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I met up with someone that our mutual friend set us up with. Yay for new friends!

And now I’m in Bali, Indonesia after a frustrating delay with flights. But everything is okay, so there wasn’t a need to worry. Really. If a few hours lost and lack of sleep are the least of worries, is it really that bad?

This is the last country I’m visiting in Southeast Asia. Then it’s off to New Zealand.

Holy smokes. I’m almost two thirds of the way done.

Chiang Mai and Bangkok: The Turning Point

In Chiang Mai, I went on a two-day meditation retreat at Wat Suan Dok. This was the most amount of meditation I’ve ever done. Every single moment was focused with intention and mindfulness, including eating. It’s important to me, because as someone with PTSD, it’s easy for my mind to “check out” when the anxiety strikes. The point is to gently redirect the focus of the mind back into the body, where it belongs. With PTSD and anxiety, thoughts and emotions can often spiral out of control like a runaway train. With mindfulness, I have learned to catch myself when that happens and observe it as it is. It’s important not to try to rationalize where it’s coming from, because that only perpetuates the spiraling thoughts. Just observe without reacting, and let it go. It does take practice, just like any skill.

Meditation and running a marathon are similar. Both are tests of endurance that require practice to build up to the next level. They require the mind to stay very, very present.

“Of course you’re falling down and getting hurt. You’re actually doing shit with your life now. That’s what happens. Though, if your ribs aren’t feeling better any time soon, maybe go see a doctor. And your heart inside those ribs is broken? How old are you, 30? See, you’re taking risks there, too. I like your attitude. You don’t seem to quit. You’ll be alright. You’ve got the whole world as your oyster–Now, go take it on.”

– A hostel mate from my travels, possibly in his 50s

It had been an emotionally draining week; that’s why I had stayed in Chiang Mai for the most consecutive days. Before I set out for Thailand, I said goodbye to a dear friend back home and have been in pieces the whole week. The cyclone of pain and loss practically knocked me off my feet. I was absolutely beside myself. I could meditate to try and observe these hurt feelings, but riding the emotions out was really the only option. Sometimes the only way out is through. The best I could do was to focus on my breathing, hold myself and tell myself that I am loved, and just sit with these waves of anguish.

The Thai say, “Mai pen rai.” Meaning, “It’s okay. Everything will be okay. Don’t worry.”

I was unbearably, desperately sad last week. But in a way, it has another side. This gives the opportunity to really lean into the worldwide journey. I could lose my mind over and over again if I had less of a grip (like when I was in my 20s). And while grieving does serve a purpose, after a certain point, I think it can become unnecessary suffering. So, I’m doing my best to let go. Letting go doesn’t mean that whatever the other person has done is okay. I think that prolonged grieving, sadness, and anger only hold someone back from enjoying this once in a lifetime opportunity. So, I’m doing my best to let go and embrace this journey.

I am halfway through my trip, and this has been a turning point in a way. The week may be been emotionally draining, but I’m truly grateful for being here.

I arrived in Bangkok from Chiang Mai early Friday morning. I hadn’t slept for 40-ish hours.

In Bangkok, I walked around, thinking over my whole life, all of the insane circumstances, everyone’s influences whether good or bad, and every little link that has led me here against all odds. Traveling solo can make you confront yourself. It has been seriously testing my limits, and I’m finding new things I’m capable of. Never mind that I have been between elation and exasperation all week–this is a dream I am actually living… And everything is very, very real.

I am beginning to like this Ronnie v 2.0.

After settling in a hostel in a quiet corner of Chinatown, I set off again to have breakfast and visit Wat Pho. This is the largest and oldest temple in Bangkok.

I did a lot of things in two days: visiting temples, art museums, eating vegan street food, window shopping at night markets, and eventually going to bed.

My favorite part of the city was visiting the Bangkok Art and Cultural Center. It was like a shopping mall and art museum in one 9 story building!

The paintings and sculptures at the galleries and museums are poignant, and many struck a chord in me. The art making process is an interconnected cycle. We look at others’ work to think and reflect, and it inspires our own. We ask questions; we want to know the artist’s intent and history, so that we can appreciate the full picture. It made me think about my own creative process. I thought I had left art because I haven’t been painting nearly as much. But In fact, my medium of choice has changed from painting to writing. The creative process is still there; it has taken on another form.

Sometimes I would wander around the maze of alleyways in Bangkok. The hostel I stayed in was away from the backpackers district. I wanted to stay off the beaten path for once, where hardly anyone speaks English. Instead, the locals and I try understanding each other by using made up hand gestures.

I have since arrived in Siem Reap, Cambodia as of yesterday. Bangkok was fun, and maybe I could have stayed a day longer. Thailand is the Land of Smiles, and it’s easy to see why people flock over there. Sure, the heat can get to you, but everything else makes it totally worth it.

One day I will return.

Chiang Mai: Introvert-Approved

Chiang Mai, Thailand is a charming lovely place of sorts. It’s not chaotic like Saigon, nor does it go at a snail’s pace like Luang Prabang. In fact, a friend of mine said that when it’s time to retire, he’s doing so in Thailand. It’s easy to see why.

Buddhism is prevalent here, and there are over 300 wats (“temple” in Thai) scattered all over the city. There are vegan restaurants on every corner, with most meals running about $2 to $3. Coffee shops are also ubiquitous.

There is some Thai social etiquette to keep in mind. For instance, the feet are considered to be the dirtiest part of the body, and so it’s rude to show the soles of one’s feet. It’s also impolite to point with the feet at anyone, or even stepping over someone’s head, which is considered the most sacred part of the body. Shoes are taken off before entering a home, which is the case in most Asian cultures.

Thailand’s king, King Bhumibol Adulyadej, or King Rama IX, had died in October 2016. He was the longest serving king in the modern era, reigning for 70 years. This country practically revers him as a god. You will find large portraits of his image everywhere. The Baht currency even has been reprinted to show the late king’s face on the bills and coins; and so it’s very rude to let any amount of Baht drop on the ground (where the feet have touched, after all).

Every day at 8:00 AM and 6:00 PM, the national anthem is played on the streets. When that happens, everyone has to stop whatever they’re doing and stand in respect. It doesn’t matter if you’re a local or a visitor. An idiot moment I had was when I was confused as to what’s going on and kept eating my noodles. It wasn’t until someone glared at me, that I realized maybe that’s the national anthem playing and that’s why everything has stopped. When it was finished, everyone just picked up where they left off.

The Thai people are very friendly and smile often. “Keeping face” is very important in Thai society. The abstract concept of “face” can be described as a combination of respect, dignity, influence, and honor. Losing one’s temper, shouting, or displaying strong emotions is strictly frowned upon. When someone does any of that, they have lost face or respect among those around. It is considered better to try and avoid confrontations for the sake of keeping one’s dignity. You keep others’ respect that way.

As I stated above, there was a lot of vegan Thai food. All of this cost about $2. I loved it so much.

Many Thais ask what my ethnic background is out of curiosity. A couple of them have even asked if they could take my picture–which is very flattering to say the least! Somewhere I read an article about how Chiang Mai is a great travel destination for introverts, and I have to agree. I love this place.

I still have a few more days here before heading to Bangkok. It’s on the way to Siem Reap, Cambodia, which is the final destination of the Mekong region.

Luang Prabang, Laos

Luang Prabang, Laos offers chill to travelers who haven’t had much. After spending almost three weeks immersed in the hustle and bustle of Vietnam, the easier vibe in Luang Prabang has given a chance to take a breather for a few days.

I’m the kind of person who likes to do all of the things. The day after I arrived late at night from Hanoi–because our bus broke down–I did a lot of temple hopping, museum going, vegan food eating, window shopping (though I did have some custom earrings made), drawing, writing, a little hike to Phousi, a massage at the Lao Red Cross, and some running thrown in there for good measure. Then I finished the night off at a book store. 


The thing is that feeling rushed to fit everything in just isn’t the Lao way. The locals here gave a gentle reminder to slow down. They promised that I would enjoy their town better if I tried doing less things. If I just soaked up the present instead of getting caught up in the next plan/objective. And they’re right. Harried Westerners like me could learn something from these people.

I climbed to the top of Mt. Phousi. There are little temples to stop and visit along the way. When I reached the top, I dropped a 10,000 kip note inside the box and asked for something that sounds small but means everything. Maybe I’ll share it; for now, it feels more appropriate to keep it in my heart.


I never weigh myself but earlier this week, I was curious. I have lost a significant amount of weight since traveling and am now officially underweight. 

I bring this up because in the past, there was this monster of an eating disorder that had consumed my entire life for about ten years total. It was truly a special kind of hell. I never had a drug problem, but I imagine that this is what it’s like. Eating disorders typically have a deeper issue lying underneath, and mine were a black hole of consistent severe emotional trauma, which formed the backbone of my life. Trauma, depression, and disgust towards myself were all I knew then. So, I starved myself–or binged to oblivion–as a way to cope, the same way a drug addict desperately uses their own vices to escape their demons. Seeing the ever-decreasing numbers register on the scale had been the first and foremost thing calming me down. The hell I was in was so vast, that all odds for recovery seemed absent. It wasn’t until I actually sought for help and slowly learned healthier behaviors that the eating disorder started to fade.

Will I ever love my body? Probably not, but I’ve at least learned to appreciate it for what it is. I love what it can do, the distances it can run, the incredible speed it recovers from injury and illness, and the thriving health it’s in. I love how different cuts of clothing or patterns of fabric can bring out the best features of it. I may not ever be as skinny as I want, but do I really want that anymore? Is having the perfect body really worth the self-hatred and abysmally low self-esteem?

I never thought in a million years that I would actually say that.


I’m not sure when I crossed over the line to choose health over “perfection.” Once I’ve built a stronger and more sustainable foundation to live life, health slowly took over while everything else trickled into place. Slowly my self-respect was growing as I worked to foster my own growth.

So, when I saw that I’m now officially underweight for my height, the first feelings from it weren’t elation or little sparks of joy. Instead, there was some concern, along with more neutral thoughts that maybe weight loss is common when traveling. If you were constantly immersed in new information and surroundings, you would forget to eat, too. Not to mention, it is hot over here!


Don’t worry though, because there has been a vegan buffet every night, and I have been savoring every bite. 

This slower pace in Luang Prabang was probably what I needed in order to process these thoughts and have these realizations. My eating disorder hasn’t crossed my mind in a long while. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I purposely starved myself to lose weight. (Fasting, on the other hand, serves a different purpose, such as resetting the body.) I can’t remember the last time I berated myself for having that cupcake, or stared at my body hypercritically in the mirror for hours on end. I don’t weigh myself, just in case the numbers trigger me again. But the fact I actually feel sexy in my own skin: I never thought I would be able to believe that either.


Today I leave for Chiang Mai, Thailand. I’m approaching the halfway point of my tour and was wondering if I’m even learning anything. Sometimes when you stop and catch your breath, things also just catch up to you…and so becomes a part of you even if it’s no longer relevant. Processing can be slow like that. 

I think the Lao people are onto something.