Yep. It’s November. And just getting chilly and dark. Perfect time to share summer memories!… when the weather was warm, the water was flowing, and the only fires were in a fire ring. Ah, summer…
I felt intentionally nonchalant about it all. Oh yeah, we’re heading out for a few days of backpacking. Maybe we’ll hike just a few miles on the PCT. Maybe we’ll base camp somewhere and just wander around the wilderness on day hikes. We’ll pop in by Echo Lake, and we’ll see how we feel… and how the weather holds up. We’ll probably meander a bit of trail and pop out not far from where we started, maybe a day earlier than planned, even.
Secretly, I wanted epic. I wanted miles, and I wanted to end with beer. But I didn’t think that was possible. So I decided to let that desire sit on the sidelines and pretend we were just meandering along, enjoying the view.
Post-hike beers. Mmmm. Fun fact: the average human can hike up to 5 miles further per day if promised beer at the end of a journey.
4.5 days and 50 miles later, as we sat draining our post-hike beer at high camp at Squaw Valley Ski Resort (which, btw, has a pool and hot tub going in summer. What!?), I laughed – cackled even – hahahahahahaha! – at the utter amazingness of our journey and wonderful complete lack of injury.
I wanted to be nonchalant about it all, because we didn’t plan for a long hike. Not like in 2015, and certainly not like in 2008… and really, not even 50 miles long. We’d been a bit busy. So, we didn’t expect much of the trail or ourselves. We did very little preparation and training. Very little. Like, we were running-out-the-door-forgetting-things little (not the essentials, but some things). And that running out the door part? That was a big part of our training.
One of many, many, many scenic lakes. Yay water!
We wanted to get out on the PCT again and just say, “hello” to it. Remind it we’re still thinking about it. And maybe it would be kind to us this year. And, we wanted to be extra flexible given that we were joined by a friend for this nonchalant meander through, it turns out, EPIC WILDERNESS. You know, we didn’t want said friend to feel he had to push himself if he didn’t want to. (Side note on said friend: Not only is he a hiking machine, but he was entirely set on ending at beer and provided much of the energy that took us that distance. Yay!)
But once you get going on the PCT, well, it’s kind of the hiker autobahn. You get swept up in the current of through-hikers, in the continuous sweeping and changing views and vistas. And you find yourself pushing yourself, even if just to see what’s around the next bend (more trail), or whether there’s a better campsite just another mile up the trail (there isn’t). And can’t you see that part of the trail up ahead is still in sun even if the sun has set here, so let’s just keep going and get over there?
Just a touch of snow!Flowery meadows for days, friends.
And by miles and breathtaking views and a strong desire to escape mosquitoes (pro tip: bring a head net… or a full body glove. There is no escaping mosquitoes), you find your untrained self averaging double digits – keeping your fingers crossed that your body will keep holding out a few more miles today, a few more days to go – and still relishing every moment of trail (okay, you’re probably not relishing the mosquitoes).
And as much as our bodies continued to deliver, so did the PCT. Crystal clear weather. Views that changed daily with the miles. Classic breathtaking Sierra vistas that continued for hours. A mountain pass with just a “smattering” of snow to navigate. Wildflowers exploding everywhere (yay high snow year!). Peaceful forests (save for the mosquitoes) with pine carpeted trail for easy walking (okay, after the first couple days of endless ankle wrenching rock and scree). Plenty of rock hopping and log balancing creek crossings (or as those less stable of us like to call it, fording… great for cleaning feet, socks, and shoes!). And crystal lakes for viewing and swimming.
We all took a refreshing dip in this beautiful lake. Doesn’t “refreshing” sound better than “cold”?And then we had our usual digestif – hot chocolate w/raspberry vodka – a post-swim sunset treat!
And before we knew it, on the 5th morning, we’d arrived at the turnoff to Squaw Valley, remarkable only in our giddy amazement that we’d actually made it this far. We poked around the Squaw ridgeline to assess the best way to our hard-earned beer. Turns out, in a high snow year such as this one, anything much steeper than a green run is still perilously covered in snow. Fine if you’ve got your ice ax ready (or skis). We didn’t. So after some deliberation, we skipped the black diamonds and that one blue run that’s really a black diamond but labeled blue (and “easiest way down”) because Squaw doesn’t want you to feel bad that you got stuck on this side of the mountain and it’s all black diamonds down. But it is all black diamonds down. So we kept climbing up to a different part of the ridgeline, not knowing if we were, in the end, going to have to sled down anyway.
Fear not! In fact, rejoice with that Snickers bar you forgot you hadn’t eaten yet! As our photo shows, it was an easy-peasy gravel-road hike down to beers, complete with a mini snowball fight – check “snowball fight in July… in the northern hemisphere” off your bucket list.
The actual road to beers at high camp. Thankfully, not a black diamond, snow-covered run. Whew! Lake Tahoe keepin’ it blue in the background.I mean, c’mon. Nothing satisfies like a celebratory Snickers an hour before your victory beer.
This stretch of PCT really offers a bit of everything, and we soaked it all up. The ski resort finish, a bus ride and fabulous double hitch back to our car (thanks, wonderful humans… second hitch came with ice cream, friends… ice cream!), a massive burger, and a glorious shower completed the epicness of our journey. Until our next casual wander, friends!
Okay, yes, I know we’re a bit into 2019 to be recounting 2018, but just… I’m behind… roll with it… please? Oh, and like many before it, this post is best enjoyed with your favorite cocktail over a loungy afternoon.
2018 won, friends. It wrecked us. It started out hopeful, but then it rained a shitstorm of illness, death, and various destruction upon us that found us limping into 2019 unsure of where the next blow would come from. So far, most is calm on the Westlander frontthings are at least looking up a bit. But they started going south just after my 37th birthday last year, so I’m cautiously waiting out the next few months to 38 and hoping for a full upturn. That’s all to say, if you haven’t hit 37 yet, I’d suggest skipping it.
But even within that shitstorm of a year, there were bright spots, often related to travel. And so, instead of airing all our laundry from 2018, I’d rather remember and share a few better times… dare I say (and I do), some pretty amazing times.
Like, we went to Burning Man for the first time ever. And it was Uh-mazing. How uh-mazing? Let’s measure that in how willing we are to go back, and that is #everyyearifwecan. Yep. It got a hashtag. That uh-mazing. Strange. Beyond strange. But in a way that lights up your soul, intensifies every moment of your existence, and lets you feel more alive than you maybe ever have. Unless you’ve had a near-death experience. If you’ve had a near-death experience, it might not top that… just sayin’.
Pre Burner testing out the dust-proof facial gear… it passed.
But, what was it like? Um, well… I’ve been struggling to find words to convey that for months. Random is the primary word that stands out to me, and perhaps a random stream of other words is the best descriptor: dusty, sleep deprived, climbing, swinging, dazzling, biking, lights, lights, lights!, nom noms, qualifying, dancing, gazing, meditating, struggling, artsy-fartsy-bigartsy-wartsy, popping, weeeee!, spritzing, crying, jaw-dropping, friends, friends, friends! boingy boingy, exploring, woah.
You get it, right? I thought so.
Okay, in all seriousness, the event is described on the Burning Man website as follows:
“Once a year, tens of thousands of people gather in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert to create Black Rock City, a temporary metropolis dedicated to community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance. In this crucible of creativity, all are welcome.”
I can’t really get more accurate than that. But that also does not encapsulate the utter aliveness and randomness of it all. So, read on for a bit more elaboration of some delightfully random experiences that emerged out of this glorious creation.
Fuzzy Bus
There was this fuzzy bus. Well, inside. There are many fuzzy covered items at Burning Man, but on the outside, this just looked like a bus. The inside, however, woooaaaaah. Every square inch except the floor was covered in colorful fur. The seats were rainbow fur. The walls were white fur, but behind the white fur were rainbow lights streaming through the bus. There were furry rainbow pillows and random stuffed animals.
It was 3:30am. I had just come from testing my social limits of being the 2nd to last person on the dance floor of “throwback to the 90’s” night at Planet Earth. The last person, bless his heart, was going to last until the music stopped. I couldn’t keep up. So, I wandered back toward camp, and it was on that path that I stumbled across this bus.
Need I say more?
It was empty and clearly parked for the night at someone else’s camp. But the door was open, so, like your average intruder, I climbed inside. And that is where you can find me to this day, basking in utter fuzzmazingness upon this bus – transfixed by the colors, the lights, the inches deep furry texture. My inner My-Little-Pony found its home and has fully taken over all future decisions. Okay, kidding. I made it out eventually. But it did take some time, and convincing, and a few magical carrots to leave that brilliant furry haven.
Dessert
There was this creme brulee. Yes, in the middle of the desert someone was serving creme brulee. And if you had been four months sans your favorite food groups as we had been, and if you had decided for this week of magic that you too were going to say, “screw it” to that diet and embrace the beauty of the moment, then you too, as we did, might find yourself willing to murder a kitten for an ounce of any dessert. Luckily, no one was requesting that heinous of a crime. Instead, the requirement for creme brulee was to twerk for the crowd. Pause for a moment, and consider the two of us twerking. It really is quite a picture. Clearly, as you may have seen in your mind, we can’t twerk. That’s not going to stop me from trying, especially for magical, burnt sugar coated custard. Brian, however, is only just beginning to uncover a delight in dancing-like-no-one-is-watching and is still quite self-conscious of how he shakes his money-maker in public. So, it was to my jaw dropping amusement, and a testament to our sugar addiction, that he threw down his backpack faster than you could say “dessert” and shook it like a polaroid [picture] for all the creme in that brulee. I’m proud of you sweetie. Proud of us.
Oh, and yes, it was everything we’d dreamt it would be.
Prayer for Peace
There was this man. He was perhaps seven feet tall or near to it. He was dressed in a long fur coat that he lent me for warmth, much to my delight. He carried half a bottle of Captain Morgan’s. Well, he carried the full bottle, but only half remained in the bottle. It was 4am, and he stood stoically watching the trashcan fire we were both huddled around until, at last, he spoke. He was having a bad week, and I offered to listen. Perhaps it was just what he needed, permission to let it all out, for he continued speaking over the second half of the bottle. And I’ll admit, the only experiences I’ve had with the horrors he described, are watching them in Hollywood movies. He has seen pain, chaos, violence, and death that would pale a ghost. His eyes and tone told me he was not the soldier to thank for his service. He said, “I joined before it all. I didn’t sign up for this.” He’d promised his mother that he was in an okay place – that he wouldn’t kill himself that week, out there on the playa. I hope he kept that promise. He has so much beauty and love to share with the world if he can keep himself in it.
Hammock
There was this hammock. It was… well… enormous. It fit at least five people sprawling across its main axis (and perhaps 15 along it), but you couldn’t lay in the middle, the lowest point, or you’d hit the ground. So you had to climb into it higher up toward an end and then maneuver to a position that balanced the net so that it didn’t tip precariously as it swung. And it was always swinging. So you had to climb in like you’d jump into the middle of a rotating jump rope. I have never, in my life, successfully jumped into the middle of a rotating jump rope. I get heart palpitations just thinking of the challenge. So naturally, I gave it a go. First heave up over the side was a failure that we’re not going to talk about. But on the second, I ever so gracefully tumbled, ass over teakettle, into the net and flopped like a fish toward my compassionately chuckling friends. And there I clung, happily swinging and giddy with the success of actually making it into the hammock. Yay! Perhaps there is jump rope success in my future too! Or maybe I won’t get too far ahead of myself.
We swung for just a few brief but delightful minutes before needing to exit the high, swinging hammock to head toward dinner. Jumping out of a rotating jump rope has also not been a consistent success of mine. But of course, I wasn’t thinking about that when I got into the hammock, foresight being 20/200. I get the mechanics of it: roll toward the edge on the downswings, then maneuver to a seated position and pop off the edge on the next downswing. I get it. Intellectually. But kinesthetically, it just didn’t happen that way. We don’t have to quibble over details of how it did happen. Let’s just be happy I am both off the hammock and have no lasting injuries.
Chrome Magic
There was this couple. They were at least 25 feet tall and fully chrome dipped so that every square inch of their loving bodies reflected the vast playa around them. Their postures held the most beautiful expression of human tenderness. We stood at their base, copying them. We couldn’t resist the statue mimicking photo op. And then, the magic of Burning Man rolled through that spot like a dust storm on a mission as we were approached by a burner dressed in the perkiest of My Little Pony ensembles. She enthusiastically shared her perfectly shot video of our own tender moment emerging from a pan out of the script at the base (the script we were totally unaware of until watching the video): “In every lifetime, I will find you.” We were speechlessly grateful, me in tears and Brian wide-eyed at the serendipity of the moment and the truth in the words.
Okay, that’s the part of the story that sticks with me and still gives me chills. But if you ask Brian about the playa magic at the chrome people, you will get an emphasis on what happened after this touching moment – equally moving, totally different. You see, in our presence with said touching moment, we hadn’t noticed the gathering crowd around a group of magical beverage bearers. Magical, I tell you. This was not a wagon of Capri Suns. This was a group of Venetian angels bearing all the makings of Aperol Spritzes and accompanying prosciutto, salami, and Creme de Pirouline cookies. And if you followed us through Venice, you’ll know that a Venetian spritz holds wonderful memories for Brian. And if you didn’t follow us through Venice (perhaps, because we had yet to make your lovely acquaintance), check it out now! It was a delightful 2015 world travel detour. Back to the present where we are currently watching in amazement as our Aperol spritz gets happily created – pause for dramatic effect – over ice… this was in the middle of the playa, roughly 2 miles from the closest cooler – resume – from the contents of the little wagon behind our bartender. It hit my mouth like, like, well, like an oasis in the desert (ha!) and was immediately followed by the delicious salty meats and sweet cookies. Maybe the best meal of the week (if we don’t count creme brulee as a meal per se). Salute, amici!
Trampolining
There was this trampoline. It was a magical trampoline. It held eight of us in its magical embrace for… I have no idea how long, but it was long. The beautiful thing about a trampoline is that it is both springy and slippery. Thus, given enough time, you will inevitably end up intertwined in a gravity-well-snuggle-fest. This can occur in several ways, but perhaps the most fun way involves 1) letting go of trying to keep your personal space bubble around you, 2) sharing a monster stack of amazing cookies (Yes, the cookies are essential. Just try letting gravity do its work without cookies and see where you get. Trust me. I’m a physicist.), and 3) giggling… a lot (This is also essential as it creates the perfect frequency of human vibration to induce slippage and shift you gently toward the center of the gravity well.). If you find you are not slipping efficiently into your gravity-well-snuggle-fest, commence a game of Tiny Tanks* to finish the job with the utmost speed and hilarity. Once intertwined gravity-well-snuggle-fest is achieved, resist the urge to disentangle. Shift limbs over and under other limbs for greater comfort. Continue your magical human connection. And embrace the outer ring of available trampoline space for continuing hilarity, like circular games of Tiny Tanks. The trampoline magic will continue to flow through your party to one or both of the following points: either, all limbs fall sufficiently numb that disentangling becomes essential to limb preservation, or the part of you that has been stalwartly ignoring the pervasive dust storm finally decides your lungs (and perhaps eyeballs) are more important than your jolly good time and urges you toward the facial protection that you left in your backpack, on the ground, far out of reach. Disentangle carefully. You still have two legs and two arms despite not being able to feel them. And pass the magical trampoline on to the next group of lucky burners. Continue to have yourself a magical night.
*I thought Tiny Tanks was a thing. Apparently it is… but not how I know it… so, don’t worry if you didn’t get that one.
Alternate Dimensions
There was this box. Hollowed and lined with mirrors inside on all six sides, it was suspended by its top edge with a few ropes. Dear lord, it was a ride. I sat against the back edge, my legs out in front of me, holding a rainbow flashing light and donning the “magic” glasses. I closed my eyes and breathed through the threat of claustrophobia as the door closed, encapsulating and isolating me inside the magic mirror cube.
Inhale. You
Exhale. Oh, hello, claustrophobia, my old friend. Are STUCK
This is fuuun. Inhale. in a FULLY ENCLOSED
Exhale. Remember, it’s fuuuun. Inhale. BOX! WEAREGONNADIE!
SHUT. UP. We are not. Exhale.
Sufficiently calmed for the moment, I opened my eyes to find Me reflected to infinity and awash in rainbow auras. My fear forgot itself as I gazed at me and color flashing everywhere forever and ever. Claustrophobia, be damned. Rainbow Me, as far as I could see.
Then it all started to shake. Before I could get my bearings, my outside attendants began jostling the cube, sending me into an alternate dimension as my reflections bounced around and my eyes raced to catch up with them. Mes all around, rainbow lights bouncing everywhere. Fear had had enough: Seriously?! Abandon ship! Abandon ship!
Breathing, even if I could among the shaking, was not going to satisfy it now as I rapidly spiraled into disorientation. I had to call up something stronger and louder than my fear. And I found it:
“Weeeee!
Woohoo!
Hahahahahahaha! Mwahahahhaha!
Weeeeeee!”
I threw all my hysterical wild laughter and excitement at it, not stopping for a moment. And it worked. Claustrophobia actually died down, replaced by genuine joy and excitement. Of course, just to be sure, I continued wildly cackling through the last few seconds of thrilling, crazy, alternate dimension rainbow madness.
The ride ended, and I emerged giggling and glowing. I wanted to go again. No, really. I did. And my fear?
It’s only slightly embarrassed: Yeah, that was pretty cool, I guess. I guess it wasn’t that dangerous… really… in the end. Maybe we weren’t actually gonna die. Good drill. Good drill.
The Temple
There was this temple. A magnificent wooden scaffold of a structure, spiraling out and up like a delicate matchstick tent. This temple was filled with memories of the dead – littered with notes, poems, posters, and tokens to loved ones lost.
“Emily, precious baby, you are never forgotten, so long as I am living.”
“Rage fills me every time I think of the gun you put to your head, father.”
“My one and only, you are the love of my life, in this world and the next.”
The Temple. At night.
I wrote a note to Erin. I don’t remember what I wrote, but I wrote it on a little slip of paper decorated with a pinecone drawing. And we walked around the entire temple to find just the place that she would have liked. A cascade of colorful cranes, strung together and swaying from a beam in memoriam of someone else’s love and loss, caught our attention with its vibrancy. Here. This is the place. This is where I choose to let you be, to let my own grief come once again for losing you. Be at peace here, if nowhere else. Delight in the colors and the little things you always loved.
Pizza Delivery
There was this phone. Just sitting there, in the middle of a random block of Black Rock City, in the middle of another late, late night. Once in awhile it would ring for a passerby, and if the group of us hiding around the corner giggling with the other phone in hand were lucky, said passerby would pick up. Who doesn’t love the occasional middle school prank call but with far more creativity?
“Hello?”
“This is 1-800-make-a-friend! Will you be my new friend?!”
“Uh, yeah. Okay.”
“Yay!”
“Hello?”
“Hi! I’m really trying to figure out the name of this song that’s stuck in my head. If I sing it for you will you help me out?”
“Sure, if I can.”
“Thanks!
[belts out lyrics]
“Hello?”
“Black Rock House of Pizza. Can I take your order?”
“um… yeah…pepperoni and bacon”
“Thanks! Have a great night!”
And that’s where the magic takes off. Because unbeknownst to our passerby, who leaves with the impression of having an odd prank call experience, there is a team of people ensuring that a pepperoni and bacon pizza find her wherever she is in the next 10 min (or it’s free! haha). A pizza is back in the kitchen on a grill, pepperoni about to be sprinkled on, and someone is searching every cooler for bacon – found! The frontline team carries two walkie-talkies and follows the mark, radioing back to the kitchen crew where to bring the pizza. And 10 min later, a team of people (because no one is going to miss the big reveal) show up with a pizza.
“Black Rock House of Pizza. Did you order a pepperoni and bacon pizza?”
“Uh… Yeah… I did..! Holy s***! That’s my pizza! What the -?! You guys are amazing! I did NOT know that was for real!”
Hugs. Hugs. Hugs. Hugs. Hugs. Hoopla. Hoopla.
I still get goosebumps remembering the utter amaze on people’s faces. The puzzlement morphing into the kind of joy one reserves for winning the lottery is truly a work of art. Making magic happen, that is the ultimate in fuzzy feels.
Superheroes
There was this group of superheroes. Each had their own special superpower, and each was amazing. Together, they were awe-inspiring. They rode the playa as one, coats flowing behind them in the breeze. I watched them ride from moment to moment, following each other’s tell-tale lights, sharing joy, laughter, love, and the cool breeze of the pitch dark night. They wove in and out of obstacles, separating and merging in one graceful dance. I fixated on them and their magical presence. I wanted to be part of that group, to be a superhero in that band of superheroes. I longed for it earnestly as my tires bounced across the ground, racing to keep up. Just then, a couple of them glanced back and smiled at me, and one dropped back to share laughter with me. In that moment, the realization of belonging sunk deeply and permanently into my core. I do belong here, riding along with them, laughing, loving, my coat flowing in the breeze. I am one of them. I, too, am a superhero in this magical band of superheroes.
Was one cocktail not enough? I know. I just can’t stop myself… and there’s so much more. Waaaay way more. Like, where we camped (more on that in another post… spoiler alert: best camp ever!) and late night shows, and delightful encounters with friends and strangers, and more trampolines and dancing and art and so much more.
Oh, right, and they burn a man. Have I not even mentioned that, yet? Not a real one, thought that was clear enough. But just in case you were starting to judge, they burn a very large, very tall, man art piece on a very large, highly flammable base. We were stationed amidst the crowds about a quarter mile from the man, and we were toasty warm and lit up like we were being interrogated. That, my friends, is a lot of fire. Pyrophiles, this goes on your bucket list. Non-pyrophiles, this also goes on your bucket list. It’s really that cool.
So, these light up spirals are all clumped together here, but at showtime, they’d roll around in a little parade!
Y’all, I just can’t tell a short story. I had this Thailand thing down to three posts (as if that’s short, ha!), but then I was going through our pictures, and there were just so many fantastic moments I wanted to share that never made it into those posts. For good reasons, yes, but that doesn’t help the feeling that I still want to make space for those moments too. So what follows is a smattering of moments from various parts of our Thailand adventures that never made it into the main posts. I swear this is it. We’re done. The last you’ll hear from our 2015 travels. True, there was much to reflect on, and perhaps I’ll cover it in some later post on some more sentimental day. But for now, this is it. Enjoy the tidbits, and we’ll reconnect in another adventure!
Chiang Rai – I couldn’t possibly omit this, our favorite Thai dessert! Half coconut milk with fresh young coconut, half pandan syrup, a smattering of colorful tapioca balls. It was the perfect sweet ending to a perfectly hot day. So delicious we plan on replicating.If you get yourself anywhere in life, get yourself here. It is a magical experience to walk amongst the ornate sculptures of the White Temple in Chiang Rai. The main chapel is an incredibly delightful, special experience as well. No pics allowed inside, though. It’s a secret!The drag show in Chiang Mai is a spectacle to behold. Complete with kisses for all the men and the bestowing of a rose to one lucky guy, this show made our night. Front row seats are a must here!Yi Peng Lantern Festival in Chiang Mai – Does it look beautiful? It was. Does it look far away? It was. Sadly, this was our only view of the floating lanterns on Yi Peng – from a distant hotel room, in between vomit sessions as we rid our bodies of the food poisoning demons. But at least our hotel room was perfectly positioned for the view!Fishy Feet Cleaning in Chiang Mai – It is no small miracle that I didn’t pee my dress with laughter during this experience. I have never felt anything so ticklish in my whole life. Y’all, I drew an audience, and not just the fish in the tank. And the lovely woman behind me running the show? She literally held my legs in the water so I wouldn’t pull them out from the tickling. She was very stern. Don’t cross her. My feet? Never cleaner. just kidding. But it did release any travel tension I may have built up.On our bike trip, we were able to explore, Bo Sang, the city where umbrellas and fans are carefully crafted and hand painted. The self-guided tour – we traveled among the stations asking questions – was delightful and the pieces beautiful. Left: I got to pound out some paper mulch for a future fan. Right: Bob Ross paints a happy little waterfall on a fan.Bike Trip – Bustling with lots of people and many interesting products and delicious eats, the markets of Thailand are worth the time. I wasn’t disappointed by a one of them. This one was a local market we stopped by for a snack somewhere on our bike trip. I believe the platters on the right contain fried bananas. Delish!somewhere between San Patons and Wat Chedi Liem in Chiang Mai – By hand. Each detail you see is a small piece of clay rolled and placed by hand. It was mesmerizing to watch these gentlemen at their craft, and I just thought they deserved a shout out for the elegant and meticulous work they do.Night Train from Chiang Mai to Bangkok – It’s a fairly cheap way to travel. I love how efficient this is to have the seats fold into bunk beds. Each person gets a bed and a curtain for privacy. And I didn’t sleep half badly. Brian slept all badly, though. Being shorter made it easier. Keep your valuables close, and enjoy snoozing to the rocking of the train. Oh, and for me, this was way better than the night bus we took back in Turkey. Waaaaay better.Phuket – We finally made it to the beaches and found this swing. Requisite swing shots!Bangkok Temple of Reclining Buddha – Buddha’s hair is my favorite part of reclining Buddha. His feet are a customary fave, but they were being restored while we were there, so we didn’t get a good look at them. But look at these fabulous golden spirals! I just want to hug his head.Bangkok – “Temple accessories! Get your temple accessories! From Buddha’s to bells, we’ve got everything you need right here at Templemporium.” Selling like hotcakes. We adored this. #monklife.1 Week to Christmas in Bangkok – Thailand – not a Christian country. Bangkok – totally rocking commercialized Christmas. Disney style. Why yes those are Mickey Mouse ears in the foreground of a Christmas tree larger than that which graces Rockefeller center. Your mall Santa display has nothing on this, Manhattan Macy’s. Joy to the Thais! ’Tis the season!Starbucks SFO – Two very happy campers land in SFO with a 4 day countdown to Christmas after being awake over 24 hours. Westlander style is not complete without a holiday peppermint hocho from Starbucks. Why Starbucks? They really are one of the few cafes to put enough chocolate in their hocho. I want a hot chocolate, people, not brown milk. Merry merry with whip cream and a candy cane on top!
Okay, you’re right. It would be rude of me to stop there.
It started in the dingy room of our hostel in Nepal.
B: I think we should go to Thailand next. It’s supposed to be amazing.
Me: *Shrugs* It’s still the wet season, and I really want to check out New Zealand and show you Australia.
B: Thailand is waaay more budget friendly.
Me: *Strains against the utmost of logical arguments*
B: This one guy blogs about spending a whole day with elephants.
Me: Let’s go to Thailand next. I hear it’s supposed to be amazing.
Apparently, I’m willing to shirk most future desires to spend time with elephants. I did not know that about myself. But, Elephants are amazing, majestic creatures, and I was not going to miss an opportunity to commune with them. Unfortunately, elephant tourist camps are generally known for mistreating the elephants: beating them, chaining them to their “parking spaces,” and making them perform out of fear – a heart-wrenching sight and not one we wanted to contribute to. Thankfully, there are a few conservation centers that really care for the elephants, and in which one can feed, wash, and just be with them while they hang out doing there 16+ hours a day of eating as much as possible. We chose one of these.
Communing with the blessed creatures
I really wanted to write about how extraordinary the experience was: about how we engaged with the elephants, gazing affectionately at them as we searched their salvaged souls in return for some serious elephant love, whatever that looks like. And it was pretty amazing just to be close to these creatures. But, to be honest, following the theme of feeling lukewarm about Thailand, our overall experience was lacking. Or at the very least it was both extraordinary and ordinary at the same time.
We largely credit our somewhat disinterested tour guide for the hopeful but overall apathetic nature of the day. Case in point, there was a huge stampede around lunchtime, and one of the tour groups had to bolt to a shelter to avoid being trampled. We were all out of our seats, eyes popping, phones snapping and recording (from safe distances). Our tour guide when asked what had happened, “pssht (waving her arm dismissively toward one of the stampeding herd), drama queen.” Not exactly empathetic to the novelty of our experience.
Safe from the stampede… pssht! Drama queen
And the elephants? Well, they were a bit less than reciprocal toward everything around them save the food. But, who could blame them? Despite being treated well, they’re approached and fondled by hundreds of tourists a day. Strangers. I was amazed they were as calm as they were.
And yet, despite this lack of enthusiasm, I was pretty much in heaven. Can we take one of these blessed creatures home… pretty please with sugar on top?! Their skin feels rough like the worst of callouses. But it’s super sensitive to the touch, and their ears are almost velvety soft. Their trunks are inquisitive and take food right out of your hand. They are gentle but firmly protective of each other. Several are permanently disabled from previous injuries, dramatically upping the sympathy factor and making us extra glad we chose to visit this center despite the rather ordinary tourist feel of it all. Awesome elephant experience? Check. Lukewarm experience? Check. Intensity of desire to return to a different, multi-day elephant retreat center? High.
Overall feel: OMG Elephants!
Cooking Class
You’d think, after three weeks of stomach problems, we might be turned off from eating anything more than steamed rice the rest of our trip, let alone try a cooking class. And we were skeptical. Our Thai eating experiences were always bittersweet: delicious going down, then largely destructive after that… leaving us fearful of just about every bite we took (and no, it wasn’t the spices, and no, it wasn’t the street food…). Thankfully, a bit of online research (and previous anecdotal evidence from Jenny in Nepal) finally led us to try Pepto Bismol before meals. And, voila! No more stomach problems. Bring it on, Thailand! We were ready to eat again!
Mama Noi’s small, beautiful farm
The cooking classes are widely regarded as one of the best experiences people have on their Thailand trips, and ours was no exception. Lukewarm it was not… just hot and spicy how we like it! Thailand knows how to teach cooking. And Mama Noi’s offered an exceptional experience including a tour of a local market, a walk around the small farm grounds from which much of the produce is taken, an opportunity to bottle feed the young pigs (Squeee!)… oh yeah, and an awesome cooking and dining experience to boot! We each chose three dishes to make from a list of about 15. All the prep, chopping and such, was already done for us, so we actually learned some of the cooking technique: making our own curry pastes with mortars and pestles, stir-frying our own pad thai, and simmering our own soups.
Master Thai chef, hard at work
Each person had a prep station and a stove station, and our leader was great at guiding everyone in the art of creating and perfecting the dishes to individual satisfaction. And damn were we good. One of our best Thai meals to be sure. And what better to top that off with than getting classmates who all go out for drinks together afterward?! Win! btw, the class came complete with a cookbook of all the dishes. So, let’s cook Thai together sometime!
Bicycle Touring
As it turns out, Thailand is a great country to go bicycling in despite what every tour agency will tell you – you’ll die – and especially great if you stick to backroads – lower risk of death. After a wonderfully delightful half-day bicycling trip to the White Temple in Chiang Rai to test out the experience, We spent 11 days bicycle touring around Chiang Mai province on a self-guided route pre-planned for us by Click and Travel (five stars to this small, amazing company!). Originally we thought this trip would consume most of our writings on Thailand. But, the true highlights of this trip really could be summed up in one word – lovely – the details just aren’t that important (or nearly as story-worthy). Lovely. Lovely was every day of cycling through farmlands, orchards, and small hills (skirting but not climbing the more major mountains). Lovely was the weather. Lovely was the scenery. Lovely was every mini resort we stayed in on this journey. Lovely was every side trip to a temple or market, or factory. Lovely was every meal we ate (okay, a few were way better than lovely and thanks to our Pepto, lovely were our stomachs afterward!). And lovely were the people. Friendly and welcoming and so happy to see travelers farther from the tourist hubs… Just lovely.
From top left, clockwise: snake charmer extraordinaire; one of our serene micro-resorts; Brian digs mud out of his bike with this guy’s help… this guy dug most of the mud out with one hand while maintaining a solid hold on his rooster the entire time… that should be a sport in the Olympics; Brian enjoying Thai ice tea from a bag (the only way to go) by our bikes; giant golden Buddha… notice tiny us at the bottom in yellow shirts… also notice a few darker spots hanging off Buddha – giant hives of I-don’t-know-what-thankfully; Brian walking the halls of an ornate and massive temple (center: temple); Elegant temple in the mountains. Click here for larger photos.
Phuket
Actually, John Gray’s Sea Canoe (kayak) tour, Phuket. Because we had an amazing time at a beautiful resort in Phuket, courtesy of some wonderfully generous family. But I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that the juicy details of our cush hotel room and hamburger grazing are not why you’re here. If so, do let me know, and I’ll regale you privately.
I’m guessing you’re more curious why I would ever get in a kayak again after Croatia (spoiler alert: I didn’t have to paddle). Or perhaps what made this the best tour of our entire travel experience. Because it was. The best.
John Gray is a fascinating character who, among other notable achievements, started a sea canoe tour company on $28 US back in 1983. The tours paddle around the spectacular islands, hongs (caves), and lagoons of Phang Nga Bay in the Gulf of Phuket. And this tour company is something special. Did I mention? The best? Really. The best.
laying flat to squeak through the hong to the lagoon… If you’re disoriented, notice my feet and the tip fo the kayak peaking out of the bottom of the image.
Several elements made it the best (read below for a glorification of our tour guide, Tom), but of these, the biggest perk was that our group was essentially alone. We visited sites without even a trace of civilization on or around them. It was a mind-blowing evening. Jungle covered rocks sticking straight out of the sea (see the top image on this post). Mangrove filled lagoons accessible only via narrow hongs at low tide by laying flat in a partially deflated kayak. Exotic birds and monkeys dancing above. Swimming in sparsely populated waters with pristine views. Private Loi Krathong ceremonies and kicking up phosphorescent algae in post-sunset pitch dark coves. And did I mention no other tour groups to contend with? No other tour groups to contend with.
Mangrove filled lagoon… home to a cacophony of birds and monkeys… well hidden amidst the foliage
Okay, a teensy bit more detail. Each kayak holds two tourists and a guide allowing small groups to paddle to and from a larger boat at each stop. And only the guides do the paddling (yay!). We just float along snapping pictures. We got super lucky with our guide, Tom. (We love you, Tom!) You want Tom. Tom was easy to understand, and he was thoughtful and knowledgeable of the area and its history. He pointed out different birds and bird calls and spotted monkeys way up in the trees. And, he took us on a private route (away from the rest of our tour group) at our last stop for a breathtaking and serene “solo” experience. Seriously. The best.
We are seriously happy campers… being led by the best of the best, Tom
This is a must do, a reason to visit Thailand again or for the first time if you’ve never been. I’m smitten, and I want to go back and do their 7-day sea canoe experience. Anyone?
I started on a high note in Bangkok. There was a lot to enjoy, even aside from the toilets. But overall, Thailand was the country that reminded us that all our travel experiences are emotionally rated on a highly relative scale: how well they meet or violate our expectations. Ideally, we’d dive in with no expectations, taking each new experience as it comes. But for us human creatures, that’s not usually as easy as it seems. Expectations are created and violated all the time. Our trekking in Nepal was exceptional as it far exceeded any expectations we had. Kayaking in Croatia left the opposite impression. Our experiences in Thailand were a mixed bag. Certain pieces were amazing. Others were supremely frustrating. So, in all honesty – though, I notice I feel somewhat nervous about stating this – we left feeling pretty lukewarm overall about visiting the country.
Trekking offers a great example of this perfect mix of amazing and frustrating experiences and was quite the experience worth sharing. We love trekking. And, we don’t say that will nilly. Scanning this blog, you’ll find a wealth of evidence that supports our love of throwing on packs and hitting the trails. So it only seems natural that we’d search out a trek in northern Thailand as well. We did not want to spend much time in the planning phase of this trek and so reached out to one of the hundreds of companies leading treks into the mountains to visit some of the native tribal villages in the area: a company with incredibly high TripAdvisor reviews, I’ll add. Just a single overnight: boat ride to the trailhead, hike to waterfall then village, fun night with a family staying in their home, morning hike to lookout point, then bamboo lunch by a river, hike out, and drive to hot springs before returning to our hostel. Sounds awesome, right? Well, most of it was. Most of it.
Ah, Americans… smiling for the camera no matter how overgrown the foliage. Bear Grylls, eat your heart out.
“Most of it” started in the evening, after the 12 mile run through an overgrown, hilly jungle in sweltering afternoon heat that our Himalayan acclimatized bodies were not at all ready for. You know, the trekking part. “Most of it” did not include that 4 hour stretch, much of which I spent on the brink of puking, crying, and falling all at the same time (actual incidences: two crying meltdowns, two falls, zero pukes).
Why were we running through the jungle? Excellent question. It turns out, when your 12 mile “trek” begins in the afternoon, because you are picked up from your hostel late morning then ushered into an extremely leisurely lunch, you, in fact, must run to make it to the village by dark.
Am I exaggerating? Only a smidge. Google uses an average human (U.S. human) walking speed on roads, not accounting for hills, of 3 miles per hour to predict how long it will take you to get somewhere walking. Walk that speed with no breaks, and you’ll reach 12 miles in 4 hours, exactly the amount of time we had until dark. Not a fast walk, seems pretty doable. Now, add a pack to your back, breaks for pictures (and dry heaving), steep hills, mud hopping, creek crossing, and a jungle-appropriate quantity of overgrowth… in 90+ degree heat. I think you’ll find, as we did, that in order to make those 12 miles in 4 hours, you’ll be running. I will add that our lovely British trekking mates seemed to have no problem with this pace, but I will also add that I am convinced (based on experience) that Europe breeds some sort of super-trekker species of human not appropriate for U.S.comparisons.
okay… it was truly incredible… and very jungly
It wasn’t all doom and gloom, though. Amazing experiences following our “light jog” almost fully made up for the first few hours. So allow me, now, to share a few of our best moments from this overnight. These included gathering around the family’s open fire stove to learn about and dine on our delicious, home-cooked feast, tasting parts of a pig I think I probably won’t taste again (by choice), and participating in a wonderfully rousing night of English and Thai sing-a-longs, our voices rising in proportion to the growing stack of empty Thai moonshine bottles.
The village at last! Don’t be fooled by the brightness of the photo. It was quite dark by this point. This may have been the most glorious moment of the entire trek.
We slept comfortably under a tent of mosquito netting and woke early to hit the trail again. Thankfully, this trail led to an open fire bamboo cooked lunch that might have been one of the best meals we had on our, well, maybe of our entire travel experience. A campfire was started next to a babbling stream, and various lengths of large bamboo were cut to create small cups, pots, and plates.
Rice was steamed in bamboo. Eggs were poached in bamboo. Pork was roasted on bamboo skewers, and all other eats were tossed in the fire to roast, then mashed together in a bamboo bowl. We dined on mashed eggplant salad – so incredible we wrote down the recipe then and there – delectable bbq pork, and locally grown sticky rice… We enjoyed this best of meals lounging on banana leaves by the stream in a secluded gully of the jungle forest. It. Was. Awesome.
And then, as predicted, we ran home.
Stay tuned for elephants, cooking classes, and a glorious cycling adventure!
