Category: Travel

Coming Full Spiral ‘Round the World

I have returned from my worldwide trip three days ago. I visited a total of seven countries: South Africa, Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, Indonesia, and New Zealand. My two layovers were in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and Brisbane, Australia. I’m still processing what has happened over the last three months.

First, let’s talk about coming back to the U.S.

It was a doozy being admitted into my own country where I’m a citizen. Going through the security clearance was practically one step below being taken to an interrogation room. It was that kind of clearance. Usually I can walk on through without an issue. The TSA personnel scrutinized every minor detail. Every answer I gave was challenged. They took every little thing out and went through all of my receipts, clothes, and personal belongings. Even the coffee beans I brought back were opened and sniffed. (They smell good, don’t they?) My payment cards were taken out of my wallet to see if anything was hiding in the slots. They even went so far as to skim my sketchbook, calendar, and journal. They looked up all of my medications, both over the counter and prescriptions. I actually thought they would confiscate something, but that didn’t happen. It was nerve wracking to say the least. About half an hour later, they let me go.

I collect currencies and this is what’s left over from my travels: money from nine different countries. The TSA apparently frowns upon having a big wad of cash, as I learned from the rigorous screening. They asked what do I need all of that cash for, implying that it must be used for something illicit. When really, it was about $10-$15 worth of currency from each country. But it wasn’t worth converting back to US Dollars, because a percentage gets taken with the conversion. For starters, it should only be of concern if it’s $10,000 cash or more. I think they just wanted to give grief because they were bored. At least I have cash for next time!

Now I’m back in Seattle and wondering, “what the hell just happened?”

It is like waking up from a three-month dream. Practically nothing has changed here. But I know that I’m not exactly the same.

I went on this worldwide trip because a change was badly needed in my life. Every aspect of my life had stagnated, and travel was the only the only option left to give a jump start. My own world needed to be shaken up in order to move forward, so I made the decision to explore the one outside my own environment. Time to tear out old roots and plant new seeds, as the saying goes.

The extent of the changes will take months, perhaps even years, to sink in. What I can say for certain is that this journey took me out of my comfort zone in ways I’ve never experienced before.

I started off in South Africa to attend AfrikaBurn, where my social anxiety was swiftly confronted, and I found myself in a brand new community of friends who embraced emotional vulnerability. I then landed in Vietnam and got horribly lost while navigating among a language I did not understand. For the next seven weeks, I was immersed in the chaos and beauty of tropical Southeast Asia, perpetually in motion like a spinning top. I learned to negotiate prices as a confidence-building exercise and to not be sorry for what I want. I took a vegan cooking course in Vietnam. I ate the most delicious vegan food, petted the friendliest cats, and went on a meditation retreat in Thailand. I hiked up a volcano at 4 AM to watch the most breathtaking sunrise in Bali. I learned to ride a motorbike in Cambodia and was awestruck by the Temples of Angkor. I went scuba diving for the first time in Indonesia. I planted trees, weeded gardens, and volunteered my time at an urban farm in New Zealand.

But it wasn’t all sunshine, roses, and “a-ha” moments. The week after AfrikaBurn was spent fighting the debilitating norovirus. I got into more accidents in Southeast Asia than I could keep track of–which included sideswiping a motorcyclist on my bicycle in Vietnam. I fell on slippery rocks and broke my ribs in Laos. I literally ran into a car which put a dent in it, so I had to pay for damages in Indonesia. As if physical pain weren’t enough, halfway in my trip I had reached a turning point: My heart was shattered by a romantic interest back home at the same time one of my best friends shared that she has breast cancer. My weight dropped to nearly 120 pounds at my 5’9″ frame, and there were more 24+ hour benders than I could possibly count. There were nights where I truly felt like I was going crazy, especially in Southeast Asia, where I was all alone. It felt like nothing in the world could silence the fire raging through. The only option left was riding it out.

The more challenging parts also provided opportunities for growing emotional aptitude. It can be so easy to be swept away in a raging storm, and for me, the best I could do was take things one moment at a time. I may have been in hell some days, but it was the cleansing fire that burned out the old cobwebs of my psyche for new growth. A friend of mine had said, “don’t worry. Whatever happens, it always works out in the end.” I am grateful for the good parts of my trip and the bad.

This trip, with its good and bad parts, was a net positive to say the least. I’ve had to tackle my social anxiety by actually immersing myself in unfamiliar environments where I had no choice but to put faith in others. For most of my life, I was instilled with the belief that the world is a dangerous, scary place. In reality, most people around the world that I’ve met showed kindness and compassion. I was also led to believe that I was incompetent and not smart enough, and this trip has shown that maybe I’m actually more capable of things than I realize. It has built more solid confidence in me and others by really forcing myself to live in the outside world instead being so wrapped up inside my own head.

It had been a while since I felt that viscerally, thrillingly, brilliantly alive.

In New Zealand, the koru is a ubiquitous spiral symbol in Maori art for growth, change, new life, strength, and peace. It is based on the shape of a new unfurling silver fern frond. The outer shape of the spiral suggests perpetual movement while the inner coils show the return to the point of origin. It’s congruent with the belief that life is more of a spiral than a linear form. At the core is where the soul originates. As we grow, we sometimes return to the same point on whole new levels. We are in perpetual change, as nothing is permanent or pure.

“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.”

I shared that quote before in a previous entry. It’s from a conversation I had with the owner of a hotel I stayed at in Bali. It really struck a chord in me, as it was an encouraging reminder that every single person has inherent self-worth to begin with.

It’s what I’m actually beginning to see now.

I wish there was more to write about. I wish this blog entry was more detailed. But things are still sinking in, and as I said before, it will take a while before the entire experience is fully comprehended. It’s like a year of my life has been compressed to a period of three months. Now I’m back to where I started on a brand new level. Traveling the world solo has changed me in more ways than I can count.

Now that I’m back in Seattle, it’s time to decide where to go from here. Already I’m feeling restless from not having a next destination to go to, so…I’m planning an impromptu day trip to Portland tomorrow with my best friend, Brad. It’s a way to decompress after being set in constant motion.

Time to tie those boots on again.

New Incredible Heights

It was my last week in a New Zealand. After WWOOFing, I’ve took a bus to Turangi to meet a friend, which is further up north.

I met Mary in Vietnam two months ago. It’s a funny story how we met: I had snapped at her partner for sitting on my bed. (I had gotten into a bicycle accident ten minutes beforehand and was shaken up about it.) Then I later apologized about being rude to him, and that’s when I met Mary! We became friends fast. She’s so rad. She’s also vegan and we ate tons of vegan food during the time I visited Turangi.

Making new friends during my travels has been so easy. Usually my social anxiety warning light is flashing, and it has been ignored more as I went on. The friends I have made didn’t mind that I was a bit nervous at first, but when people are present and kind, it’s easier to relax.

Mary and I hung out at the ski fields, where she was staying for work. We had a great time, even without skiing since my rib was still sore. And then there were the some of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve ever seen, the spectrum of colors reflected off the snowy mountains.

Later in the week, I tried my hand at climbing for the first time and reached the top several times before the pain in my ribs flared up again. Otherwise, I would have kept on going.

In 2006, one of my cousins fell 800 feet to her death from rock climbing in Washington State. This deterred me from ever trying climbing. But I’m so tired of being afraid. I’m tired of this fear that was instilled in me. This is not who I am. I was warned to never try something like climbing and was kept within the boundaries of “don’ts.” But you don’t grow that way. You never know what you’re good at until you actually try it.

The week has drawn to a close, and so has my worldwide trip! I have departed New Zealand to return to the US of A, thus completing the circuit of going around the world. I will be flying so far out east, that I will land in the West again. By the time I arrive in Seattle, I will have landed almost the same time as I have left, so I will be living the same day again.

And what an incredible three months it has been! It’s hard to find the words to describe this experience. It’s like living a typical year of my life compressed into three months. It has been beautiful and frightening, surreal and visceral. And now it’s all over. It has changed me. This calls for a separate entry, and that one will come when I have finally returned and the dust settles.

I’ll be home soon.

Of Windstorms, Broken Ribs, and Gluten-Free Crackers

Wellington is known for its unpredictable weather. All week there have been windstorms, with gales exceeding 100 k.m.h. (That’s 62 m.p.h. for you U.S. folks!) You could feel the whole house shake, and apparently this is normal. My WWOOF hosts live in a high-wind zone, but just one step below the “Special Engineering Required” zone for building requirements. They said that someone’s roof blew off in that area. What!

But they didn’t make me work outside because wind storms are obviously dangerous. So, I got to stay indoors and do domestic stuff, like baking bread for the week!

Really, having freshly baked bread straight from the bread maker is one of the best things in the world. Maybe I’m overreacting a little, but when a warm fluffy bite of whole wheat bread melts on your tongue, you’d be in heaven too. Unless you eat gluten-free. Then that’s understandable if you’re not keen on it.

It is also very likely that I’ve broken a rib when falling on some rocks in Laos almost two months ago. The pain made it very difficult to breathe then, and whenever I sneezed, it felt like my whole body shattered. Slowly the pain diminished to a dull ache here and there. Barely having any rest and all of those benders in Southeast Asia probably did my injury no favors. Lately, the pain has flared up again. I never went to the doctor because it only seemed like just a bad fall at the time. But pain that lasts this long doesn’t feel normal. Even if I did go to a doctor, there’s not a whole lot that can be done for a broken rib. I can at least run and work. That’s what matters the most. I go stir crazy from sitting or lying down for too long. I am safe and warm in New Zealand, and getting plenty of rest in between.

In the meantime, indoor things are just fine. I even made laundry detergent from scratch!

And then came the gluten-free crackers from scratch. The recipe is as follows:

  • 2 Cups gluten-free oats
  • 1 1/2 cups oat flour
  • 1/3 cup olive oil
  • Pinch of salt
  • 1/2 cup water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees (Or 180 degrees Celsius). Mix all dry ingredients, then add the wet ingredients until a dough forms. Let it sit for 15 minutes for the oats to absorb the water. Roll out the dough to 1/4 inch thick and use a cookie cutter to cut circles. Makes about 10 3-inch crackers. 

If you have only a 2-inch cookie cutter, don’t worry, the gluten-free cracker police won’t come after you. You’ll just end up with more crackers at a smaller size.

There’s only a week left in my worldwide trip before coming home. Reflections on the entire adventure flip through, and yet it feels too soon to write about it. Not all of it has sunken in yet. I’m not sure how this has changed me at the moment.

In the meantime, there’s an ice pack on my side along with the understanding that I’ve lived a little outside my comfort zone.

Pulling Out Old Roots

I’ve mentioned earlier that Wellington is very similar to Seattle on every level. The artsy and vegan familiarity isn’t the only reason I picked this city to do a WWOOF volunteership.

The climate is also similar to the Pacific Northwest. Whatever experience is gained here can be applied back at home. The difference is that it can get very windy, with gales exceeding 100 km per hour. Eek!

It’s actually been relatively calm last week, which made it all the more pleasant to pull weeds out of the garden.

I have been getting intimately familiar with onion weed by pulling up the roots and bulbs. Here is an example of a small patch I worked on last week. 

Pulling up all of those onion weeds looks deceptively easy, but it was actually time consuming because the roots ran very deep. Tearing them out from under the surface also exposed some of the fattest earthworms I’ve ever seen, which attracted the birds that would eat them…watching nature take its course before my own eyes.

I can’t express how glad I am to be here. It feels so good to volunteer and be a part of something again. For a while in Seattle, I was living on the periphery.

Currently I’m staying with two lovely hosts who make me feel so welcome and appreciated. And we cook the most delicious and nutritious vegan meals together. Finding the right hosts can definitely impact the experience, and I am so grateful for that. Their place also gets plenty of natural light, which is crucial for winter months, at least for me.

That’s what I’ve missed: something so human as the feeling of belonging somewhere and being a part of something meaningful. With WWOOFing has come a sense of purpose and community. 

It can be easy to go back to my super introverted ways. Isolating oneself is so much easier to do once all basic needs are met. Maybe I’m not ever the type who gains energy by being around tons of people, but last year I have noticed that while isolation keeps people from hurting me, it has been slowly rotting my world. It had gotten to the point where it actually was doing more harm than good, yet I was so wrapped up in its comfort, that it was hard to see a way out. 

This is one reason why I’m traveling. And then traveling just for myself got old. I was looking another purpose outside of my own world that could still be practical and fulfilling. 

Am I trying to be a good person? I don’t know; I ain’t a saint or anything. All I know is that I’m trying my best here like everyone else. I do know that healing or self-improvement cannot be done alone; there needs to be a sense of care and community involved. And it’s not always easy or glamorous. I still fuck up every now and again. But this growth is so far a net-positive.

The expression “tearing out old roots and plant new seeds” has never been more relevant.

Vegan No-Sugar-Added Hot Chocolate

I’ve mentioned that it’s winter in New Zealand. The winter blues that have been forgotten hit unexpectedly in this beautiful place.

I run for at least an hour several days a week. The endorphins keep my brain in working order and mood elevated. Sometimes, however, running alone isn’t enough. 

Yesterday was my first day WWOOFing, and it feels so good having a purpose again. Volunteering is something I’ve missed doing, and contributing my time and energy while being a part of something is helping to keep the blues away.

I’m currently staying in a house with two lovely, gracious hosts who are following a strict gluten-free and no sugar diet. While it’s hard to turn down a vegan pastry or dessert, sugar is probably one of the worst things you can feed yourself if you have depression, even if it only hits seasonally. We already know that studies have found that it has the same addictive properties as cocaine. So, when the withdrawal symptoms creep up… It can leave a gaping feeling inside, further compounding the depressive feelings. But I’m determined to work through it.

Running about 30 miles a week sometimes doesn’t quite cut it. In addition to volunteer work, it turns out that not having access to anything sweet is probably what is saving my drifting mentality right now.

Though, the hosts did say I can help myself to anything I like. While I’m grateful there is no sugar in the house, withdrawal can be a bitch. 

So, I whipped up a recipe for a vegan hot chocolate that doesn’t have any sugar added but still hits the spot. The raw cacao contains the antioxidants your body craves without that stuff negating any of it. The spices provide a natural sweetness that is actually satisfying. Say, what!

 

Vegan No-Sugar-Added Hot Chocolate

Ingredients:

  • 1 Liter unsweetened soy milk (or whatever dairy-free milk you prefer)
  • 4 Tablespoons raw cacao powder
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon 
  • 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
  • 1/4 teaspoon cardamom

Heat up the soy milk in a sauce pan over low heat. Gradually whisk the dry ingredients in until everything is well blended. Try not to overheat the hot chocolate drink, because the heat can kill the antioxidants. But if you prefer hotter drinks and don’t mind that bit, then go for it.

Makes 4 servings.

The spices can be tweaked to whatever you prefer. If you prefer clove and allspice over cardamom, then feel free to switch it up. You can even add vanilla extract to give it a sweeter aroma. 

Enjoy!

Brisbane/Wellington: Not Quite Home, but Pretty Close

I arrived in New Zealand a few days ago. But first! Let’s talk a little about Brisbane, Australia. 

I had a layover that lasted all day, so I took the train from the airport to the city. Southeast Asia can spoil anyone with cheap food and coffee (cheap everything, really), so it was a shock to see how expensive everything is in Australia. Welcome back to the “First World.”

All I did in Brisbane was visit the museums with free admission, take a stroll around the botanical gardens, and take a ride on the City Hopper ferry before making it back to the airport. There wasn’t a better way to kill time. Except…

There is a donut shop called Doughnut Time that has some of the vegan variety. 

I sank my teeth in one and it was so delicious, it almost moved me to tears. In Seattle, I keep telling everyone how they need to try a Mighty-O donut because it’s the best. And people should still have one! As far as being the best I’ve ever had, I’m so sorry Mighty-O, I really do love you, but…

I have since made it to New Zealand. 

As cool as Wellington is, the point of going around the world has been to challenge myself in new environments. Wellington is practically Seattle’s Kiwi cousin, which isn’t a new environment at all. In fact, I feel right at home.

It’s not a bad thing, though it’s interesting that I’ve actually been feeling restless from the lack of adrenaline that steadily pulsed through before. New Zealand is a fairly safe place to be. Walking alone at night is apparently okay, but the idea is still unsettling. 

Nonetheless, the vegan scene here is thriving. There is a little store called V1 Vegan that opened up a just few months ago along Cuba St. I had a pain au chocolat.

The owners are so nice and welcoming and I definitely want to come back! Later that night, I went to a vegan night market that happens every first Saturday of the month. Can I just stay here forever?

There is an art community here, though it’s not quite as strong as Seattle. Then again, I am clearly asking for too much and could just appreciate the art Wellington does have to offer. 

As for the quirky style I’m into, there’s Matchbox Studios, which is a boutique and art gallery. Currently, they have an exhibition called Pet Project: An Exhibition of Cute Animals. You had me at “cute animals.”

Wellington is a very walkable town. I have spent the week getting to know the city either by walking or running through.  

What I’ve noticed lately is how my sense of direction has slowly been returning, especially after taking off for this world tour. PTSD can truly disorient someone. It’s been easier to take a step back from being so wrapped up in the vortex of my own mind. Sometimes I will look at maps to ensure I’m on the right track, but usually there isn’t a need to. Finding my way back when I’m not 100% sure where I’m going almost feels like a magnet along a path. I can feel the pull of the destination.

Currently it’s also peak winter over here. Going from tropical weather to a cold, wet, and grey environment is quite an adjustment. It’s like my system is going through sunshine withdrawal. (Guess I have to turn in my goth card for that.) The southern latitude is on par with Seattle’s northern counterpart, so the sun goes down as early as the north in December. I should be used to having the winter blues by now, except that it’s July! It will be okay; staying active and mindful can make all the difference. Usually I’m sequestered indoors during those months, unless it’s time for a run. It’s just that it was a bit of a struggle last winter, and trust me when I say that having the ol’ seasonal depression once a year is more than enough. 

Just keep breathing and keep going. 

But you know, I’m safe. This town is lovely and I’m in good hands. I can get around without incident and more resources are available to me now. Pretty soon I will start WWOOFing (acronym for World Wide Opportunities on Farms), which is the primary purpose of my time here in New Zealand. So, I’ll finally get to contribute some time and volunteer work, which is what I’ve missed doing. (Hence the working holiday visa shown above.)

So far, my impression of Wellington is that it’s very similar to Seattle and the Pacific Northwest: from the weather to the vegan and art scene that the city offers. Then again, I’ve only been around just Wellington.

The winter blues can go to hell, because this is nothing short of a magical place and I’ve been enjoying every minute of it.

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.