Nepal in a nutshell

The trek was great. We didn't bring a guide or a porter and I feel accomplished knowing that I lugged by own bag the whole way! We rushed through the trek, completing it in 6 days instead of the recommended 10 (my legs have never felt so exhausted). As I was huffing and puffing up and down the endless hills, the sight of porters dressed in jean shorts and flip-flops, carrying two or three huge crates of food, large jars of kerosene or the luggage of three people never ceased to amaze me. And kept me motivated.

View of Annapurna, with Tibetan prayer flags

Most nights we slept in tea houses, in dark little rooms, frequented by probably hundreds of people each season. The food was delicious at the beginning of the trek - order a potato curry and they dash off to the garden to pick the potatoes! I'm also a new fan of yak cheese, which is abundant throughout the hill regions, tastes like parmesan but with the consistency of mozzarella. As we got higher and above the tree line, the food was pretty bland because everything had to be carried in by porters each day. It's quite amazing how well-organized the tourism industry in Nepal is.

Fishtail mountain and ABC lodges

Annapurna Base Camp (ABC) was breathtaking. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky and was freezing cold at 4,100 meters. We had lunch and quickly descended. It took us four days to "summit" as we like to say, and two days to reach the warm beds and hot espresso of Pokhara. After spending a few days in Pokhara, floating around on the lake and eating Western food, we made our way back to Kathmandu, where we are now awaiting our Indian visas.

A Lakshmi Puja

Nepal is a very relaxing place, for the most part, and we're here at a great time. Last night the biggest festival in Nepal, Diwali, came to an end. I'll equate the atmosphere to Christmastime in the US. The first night was great, because we were invited to participate in a celebration by the guy, Uday, who helped us get outfitted for our trek. We had no idea what to expect. As we walked through the streets to his shop, everyone was closing up shop for the day and decorating the sidewalk in front of their storefronts and homes with Lakshmi Pujas. Lakshmi is the goddess of wealth, and a puja, as I understand it to be, is a colorful design on the ground, made with different brightly colored powders, butter lamps, fruits and oftentimes some rupees. These pujas lined the streets and were quite a beautiful sight.

We met Uday at his shop and then drove to a neighborhood not too far from our guesthouse. As we approached, I could hear music blasting and I saw about 50 people gathered in a large circle as four girls, dressed similarly to myself, danced what seemed to be a mix of hip-hop and traditional Indian/Nepali dancing to Nepali music. There were a few bright street lights and so we sat around watching as Uday and his friends set up their own sound system and called their friends. As is typical in Nepal, the electricity went out and the street was completely black. The music stopped and everyone stood around chatting, probably about what to do next. After a few minutes, a minivan drove up with music pounding from the speakers. All the kids started cheering and one by one piled into the van. Tom and I sat at the sidewalk, amazed as we estimated that at least 25 people were in the car. They sung at the top of their lungs as the driver took off, most likely for a neighborhood where the street lights were still working.

What happened next still makes me laugh. Uday and his friends set up their speakers and starting playing their own music. There were about 20 of us there and everyone cheered, ran into the street and started dancing. We weren't dancing to traditional songs for Diwali, but rather popular Nepali and Indian songs. Towards the end of the night, we were about 50 people and Tom pointed out that we were probably listening to some tunes off of NOW 5. So there I was, sober as I've ever been, a good foot taller than everyone around me, celebrating Diwali with the locals by dancing like crazy in a dark Kathmandu street.



PS: On the way back to Kathmandu, we had a little stop off in our favorite Nepali town, Besi Sahar. The police chief called us to proudly announce that he had found our stuff - a camera, two pairs of glasses and cash. We couldn't believe it and knew there had to be a catch, but took a taxi to Besi to meet with the police and reclaim our items. As I told the police chief, if this were to happen in the US, I would file a police report with no hope of ever seeing my things again. I honestly was very impressed. In the end, we were given all of our items except the cash - our donation to the hardworking city officials of Besi Sahar.

With the police chief of Besi! Only sorry I didn't get a photo of him wearing my sunglasses...

On to the next...

I'm not quite sure it's set in yet that I've left Thailand, my job and all the wonderful friends I have made over the past year. This blog post is going to be hastily written, as I'm sitting in an Internet cafe in Pokhara, Nepal, listening to the obnoxious buzz of a power generator. But at least I have Internet!

It's been a little over one week since I left Chiang Mai. And what a week it's been.

My last day of work was truly memorable. We went to the lake, stuffed ourselves with fried chicken, pork (a good representative of AJWS I am!) and papaya salad, and laughed as we took a million pictures in a last minute effort to preserve the memories.

The weekend was a blur of packing, eating, drinking and trying to soak up my last few days with friends. On Sunday evening, we (Tom and I, he came and surprised me in Chiang Mai!) set off to Koh Chang. We spent three days down there eating seafood, laying in hammocks and riding motorcycles (him driving, me screaming). From there we set off for Kathmandu, Nepal.

Nepal, after only four days, has been both exhausting and amazing. We planned to do a 15 day trek through the Annapurna region (west of Everest region), so we spent two days in Kathmandu getting outfitted. It's insane. It's like REI times a million, except everything is cheap and fake. We were fortunate enough to stumble into a shop run by "our guy", as we now call him. When we asked him, "is this real Gor-tex?" he scrunched up his face, said "Probably not", explained what we could expect about the region, the gear, the weather, etc. For me to hear someone answer that question honestly, after everything I've seen and heard this year, was truly refreshing. We hung out there each afternoon, met his sister, had tea and asked him a million questions (and purchased half the store).

From Kathmandu, we made our way to the starting point of the trek, Besi Sahar, but after a particularly unfortunate bus ride, we ended up spending an extra two days there. A camera, sunglasses, glasses and a lot of rupees were stolen out of our backpacks. When I first realized this, I just wanted to cry, curl up in a ball and wake up in Thailand. But right away, a man standing near got wind of the situation, threw Tom on the back of his motorcycle and they chased down the bus. Long story short, everyone (police and locals who saw what happened) were very concerned that we get our stuff back and that we do not judge Nepal based on this incident. I don't mean to name drop, but I totally had tea this morning with the Police Superintendent and local politicians of Lamjung, Nepal. Yeah.

We've adjusted our trek and are setting off tomorrow morning. More to come later. But in summary, the people of Nepal are fantastic and I'm really excited to get out of the city and see the country!

An exorcism

As I'm approaching my last few weeks here, my daily routine has changed slightly. In a last minute switch-up, I was asked to teach English to our interns. Approximately once a year, my NGO runs a six-month internship program for young women from the migrant communities and refugee camps in Thailand. The current group of interns are 16 to 25 years old, from all different ethnic groups in Burma and are learning about women's issues, human rights, the history of Burma and computer skills. And now I'm helping them learn English as well. I've never taught before (aside from the tutoring I've been doing here for my colleagues) and so I was admittedly overwhelmed when I first sat down to plan a lesson. It's been two weeks now, Monday through Friday in the morning, and I like to think my classes are going...okay. I'm enjoying it at least! 

One of my favorite parts is eating lunch with the girls after class. We have nice chats about my home, their homes, cultural differences, how we're both finding Thailand and so on. Earlier this week a few of the girls brought up the topic of ghosts with me because the night before some of them had felt a ghost in the house. They laughed about how silly the idea was, but the stories were spooky nonetheless. "Do you believe it?" they kept asking me. I gave it some serious consideration. "I'm not sure I believe in ghosts, but I do know that they still scare me." 

At the end of yesterday's class I was reminding the girls to prepare for their presentations, which they were supposed to give this morning. "Oh no, no class tomorrow" one of them said, and they all looked at me. "Ummm, yes...tomorrow is Friday"

"No, tomorrow we will bring in the monks for the house and the ghosts. Will you come?"

A Buddhist exorcism you say? Why yes, of course I'll be there! 

I should clarify that our Western idea of ghosts is quite different from what they believe over here, for the most part. The images of pallid people floating around in tattered clothes, trying to scare or kill us and letting out moans that make you shiver is Hollywood. Here they believe in spirits - dead people who do not necessarily wish to do harm to us living people, but want to be acknowledged by us and for us to share our good fortune with them.  

So this morning I arrived at the intern house and everyone was gathered there. The main room was cleared out and there were mats laid across the floor. A little table, about a foot high, sat at one side of the room and on it were the offerings for the monks - new robes, laundry detergent, coffee, toothpaste, money, etc. Monks aren't allowed to ask for anything, including food, so everything that they own or consume must be given to them by the community. Three monks arrived, each one wearing a different shade of the saffron robe, and took their places sitting behind the table. The rest of us, about 15 woman and one man, knelt down on the floor facing the table. Everyone began chanting in unison, their palms touching up near their faces, bowing their heads down to the floor in front of them and back up. The chanting is in a language called Pali, which sounds very similar to Burmese. There is a chant you say at the beginning and the end of each ceremony, basically asking for forgiveness from everyone in your life whom you may have crossed or hurt. Almost everyone in the organization is Buddhist, so they all knew the chant. However, I was happily sat next to the two Catholic girls and so together we knelt quietly as everyone else chanted and bowed. I found it really nice to close my eyes and listen to the low hum of the chant.

The lead monk then asked one of my friends if we wanted the spirits in the house. She said no. He asked her twice more and she said no each time. Then the monks led everyone in a chant explaining to the spirits that they were not welcome here and that they should find another place to stay. The monk and the man with us took a bowl of water with a lotus flower inside and sprinkled us and the house by flicking the water off the flower onto all of us and throughout the whole house. After presenting the monks with the offerings and reciting the closing chant, they fed the monks. We sat at watched as the monks ate and engaged their audience in conversation. They were Burmese themselves and so it was later relayed to me that everyone spoke briefly about the idea of going back to Burma. The monks returned to their monastery and we all ate lunch and continued to giggle nervously about the ghosts. 

As we were returning to the office, my friend asked me "So what did you think?" with a grin on her face. 

"Very interesting, I'm glad I got to see that" I replied. Learning about Buddhist beliefs and practices has been really interesting, and I especially treasure every opportunity I get to participate in activities outside of work with these wonderful women I've gotten to know.

We kept walking in silence and then I just had to ask, "what are you guys going to do if the interns hear the ghosts again this weekend?" She smiled at me and then we both cracked up. Starting Friday off with an exorcism - I think it's going to be a great weekend!

PS: The monk's Blackberry rang twice during the ceremony...

One week in Cambodia

My first visa run was to Laos. My second was to Cambodia, Kampucha as the Thais call it. I was excited because my good friends Karissa, Christian and I managed to coordinate our schedules and pull off a very last minute trip. Unfortunately, because of time constraints from work and visas, our trip was limited to visiting Siem Reap (Angkor Wat) and Phnom Penh over six days. When I returned to Chiang Mai, my friends kept asking me how I found Cambodia. "Cambodia was intense" seemed to be the only words I could find. Yes, that's not a winning endorsement, I understand. But let me explain.

It was hot and dusty. The traffic in Phnom Penh was lethal to the point that I strongly believe that cycling on the streets there is the most dangerous thing I will do for a long while to come. Furthermore, I didn't know how to say the simple phrases that I have learned to say in Thai, which really help on a daily basis and so that was frustrating.

But one thing really struck me about Cambodia - I'm sure anyone who has been there can agree with this - and that is that the people are so warm and kind. From laid back and touristy Siem Reap, to the hectic streets of Phnom Penh, the people I encountered in Cambodia always had a smile on their face. Yes, as a traveler you can become annoyed by the fact that you can't walk for more than three minutes without a man offering you a tuk-tuk, or a child asking you to buy a postcard or souvenir. It can be hard not to snap back sometimes (because clearly if you saw me say no to those three taxi's down the street, I have not likely changed my mind in the past ten seconds!!) however just when you think you're going to, someone throws you a wide smile and you can't help but smile back. After that, it feels tasteless and petty to get mad.

I'll never forget our last day at the temples in Angkor. A little girl was hanging around us, asking us to buy her postcards. She wouldn't stop and we clearly weren't interested in buying anything. I felt bad just driving away from this little girl, but I honestly do not believe that buying a $1 souvenir from a child (who should be in school, mind you) is doing her a favor at the end of the day. Who knows where (to whom) that money goes. "Please, $1, ten postcards, please" she pleaded with us. "No thank you, no thank you" we kept repeating as she was standing next to our tuk-tuk and we were ready to pull away. Finally, she must have realized it was a fruitless effort and so she perked up, puts the widest grin on her face and says "Thank you! Bye bye!" and skips off. We were all floored by this kindness and pure happiness she showed, despite our brushing her off a little bit.

Bayon - my favorite temple

Siem Reap was our first stop to see the temples of Angkor. It was a 20 hour bus journey from Chiang Mai, but we arrived, found a nice hostel and rented bicycles. The next day we woke up and rode out to the park where the temples are. It was a long day, but I'm really glad we opted for bikes. Cycling through the park allowed us to move slow enough to observe the non-tourist scenery. For example, I didn't realize this, but many people actually live in this park, so every few kilometers you'll come across a little cluster of houses, a school or farm and you see people sitting around, going about their daily lives in the middle of one of the wonders of the world. The temples were beautiful. They are all from around the 10th to 12th century and are a mixture of Buddhist and Hindu architecture and influence, depending on the kingdom and the time period. We covered a decent amount of ground, saving the three main temples for the second day.

The second day we woke up at 4am, hired a taxi and went to see the sun rise behind Angkor Wat, for which the entire park in named. Angkor Wat is impressive. It's massive and has a moat around it and a reflecting pool in front of it. The inside is extensive and has carvings and long walkways. Karissa and I were trying to imagine what it looked like when it was actually used as a temple. We pictured a lot of seductive goddesses in dim candlelight...

Sunrise at Angkor Wat

From Siem Reap, Christian and I went on to Phnom Penh to get our visas. PP is a big, congested city but I found its redeeming qualities to be the elegant French colonial buildings, baguettes and pastries galore, quiet little side streets and a nice boardwalk along the Mekong River. After dropping off our passports with a travel agent, we rented bikes and road out to the Killing Fields. The ride was awful - my eyes, nose and mouth were full of dirt, I was terrified of the traffic and it was so hot. But we made it. The Killing Fields are an interesting site. The land and museum were leased to a Japanese company by the Cambodian government a few years back. It's a weird feeling to walk around the area and realizing that some company in Japan is profiting off of it. The idea was that they would fix it up and make it a more profitable and compelling museum...unfortunately, it feels neglected and hastily constructed. We were both bothered by the fact that this company had not done more.

As a traveler and outside observer, I tried to keep in mind the effect that the events surrounding the Khmer Rouge might have had on the Cambodia I was experiencing. It was so recent in the country's history, after all. I thought about the fact that everyone I saw on the street who looked in their 40's and over had lived through that horrible time and survived. I longed to ask someone what it was like, but obviously that felt inappropriate and like I was overstepping my boundaries. I wish I had gotten the chance to see more of Cambodia - to visit the less-traveled east, see the beaches in the south, stay for a little longer in one place and get the chance to learn some phrases and talk to people. I guess I'll have to go back...

Rainy Season

We're in the height of the rainy season now. I thought summers in DC were humid, but this is truly something else. The rain seems to have a pattern. It's usually not raining as I walk to the bus in the morning, but you can see the rain clouds rolling in. Around lunchtime, when I'm hungry for my stir fried veggies and rice, it starts pouring. Sometimes there's a nice breeze that comes with the storm, which is refreshing. By the time the rain stops enough to walk to the restaurant, the streets are muddy and littered with deep puddles.

It rains again around 5pm when I'm leaving working, but because I travel in a songtaew, it's not so bad. I'm constantly in awe of the people on their motorbikes. Some wear ponchos, or hold umbrellas above themselves while they drive with one hand and some have just forgotten protection altogether. The best I've seen (and I've seen this a few times) is when the driver puts his hand up in front of his eyes to block the hard rain, as though he's playing Hide and Seek, driving with one hand and peering through the other hand just enough to go in a relatively straight line. One time I saw a passenger holding both hands in front of the driver's face. Neither were wearing helmets.

Rice paddies filled by rain in Mae Hong Son

The streets turn into rivers when it rains a lot and it can get about one foot deep on some of the little sois (side streets) so you're literally wading your way back to your apartment, trying to keep your flip-flops on your feet while watching out for uneven ground and holding your dress/pants above water level. Being from Seattle, I thought for sure rainy season would feel normal to me. Grey, overcast, damp, green...sounds like home!

But rainy season in Thailand is better. Sorry Seattle. It's warm, I get to use an umbrella without people wondering why and my sandals and feet dry immediately! Like Seattle it's so peaceful when it rains. In true SE Asia mentality, people are in no rush, so in particularly hard downpours they just pull over to the closest cover and wait out the rain - three minutes, fifteen minutes, thirty minutes - it really doesn't matter. Everyo       ne stands beside their bikes and umbrellas, watching the rain fall.

As we were coming into rainy season, I was actually quite upset about it. Every time it rained I asked someone, "Is this like what it's like in rainy season?" (as if it was a movie that I didn't want to watch, but wanted to know what happened). I was worried that rainy season would leave me feeling depressed and cooped up. But then a friend said something to me that I can't stop thinking about. She said that she loves the rainy season because after it rains, everything looks so clean. And it's true! Thailand shines after the rain. The mountains, grass and trees are so green and the ornate gold Buddha statues and embellishments on the Wats sparkle, leaving me in awe that I live in this country.

I have drawn one parallel to Seattle rain, however. It began when I woke up on Wednesday morning and looked out my window to see clear blue skies. I was immediately in a wonderful mood and throughout the day, I noticed everyone else was too. Blue skies and sun during rainy season in Chiang Mai is like one of those absolutely beautiful, but admittedly rare sunny days in Seattle. Everyone appreciates the good weather and you can't help but be happy!

Rain water flowing down the steps of Doi Suthep

Actions speak louder than words

I began my work here at a very interesting time in Burmese current events. The government of Burma held ("staged" would be the proper term) an election on November 7th 2010, just a few days after I began my placement. In quick summary, the military-backed Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP) won over 75% of the vote - a suspicious 180 degree flip in public opinion from the 94% won by military opposition Aung San Su Kyi in 1990. The world watched as shocking facts came to light about this election - 25% of the seats in Parliament were reserved for the military, foreign journalists were denied visas to enter Burma, the cost of registering a candidate was so high it excluded most hopeful individuals and parties and over 3,000 villages in ethnic minority areas were excluded because they were deemed by the military to be "too compromised" to hold fair elections.

The election was widely denounced by the international community - Ban Ki Moon, Barack Obama and Gordon Brown each publicly criticized it. Yet over here, something different was happening. ASEAN countries, China in particular, took a different approach, expressing naive hope (read: ulterior motive) that these elections would bring peaceful change to Burma.

Fast-forward six months - Senior General Than Shwe has "officially dissolved" the military government's State Peace and Development Council (SPDC) and replaced himself with a parliament of newly elected MP's, who appointed President Thein Sein to serve as Head of State. Change has come to Burma, they say. I'll skip over the fact that this new Parliament allocated over 20% of the 2011-2012 state budget to the Ministry of Defense, which runs one of the largest standing armies in the world despite facing no external threats; or that the Ministries of Health and Education received a combined 5% of that same budget, perpetuating the deterioration of the education and health systems; or the most disturbing fact of all being that General Than Shwe, has written a "special fund" into the budget, which the government must grant in any amount he requests for the purpose of "defending against internal enemies". Previous "internal enemies" include the Buddhist monks peacefully marching in the Saffron Revolution of 2007, journalists, comedians, artists and bloggers (ahh!), Nobel Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi (Daw Suu, for short) and the thousands of ethnic groups who've had their villages burned and livestock stolen.

So, as I was saying, change has come to Burma. And just a few weeks ago Thailand, where hundreds of thousands of Burmese refugees and migrant workers have found sanctuary, announced that it would repatriate over 100,000 of these refugees. We are always taught that actions speak louder than words, and in the case of the Burmese Parliament and new leadership, this is so true. President Thein Sein and Parliament have yet to prove that they will focus on improving the lives and opportunities available to their citizens. Straight out of the gates they passed a budget which does not look too hopeful for social welfare and education. The Internet remains heavily monitored and over 2,000 political prisoners are still incarcerated. Just last month, a foreign author of a biography on Than Shwe was searched, detained and deported by Burmese intelligence, but not before famously asking "Is it a crime to write a book?" It's safe to say that in today's Burma it depends on what that book says.

What is going to happen to these refugees who are forced to return to Burma? I have no doubts that they ultimately want to return to Burma - everyone I've met does. People can go on for hours about the natural beauty, their village, the bravery of Daw Suu, Burmese Buddhism, Thingyan (Songkran!) and the memory of a time when the University of Yangon (then Rangoon University) was one of the best, if not the best, universities in Asia. But the fact is that if these people are forced to return to Burma, they will be faced with the same human rights abuses that made them leave their homes and families in the first place. Fighting is ongoing between the military and ethnic armies, land mines liter the ground and the fear of military abuse, forced labor and sexual violence is a very real threat to those who've sought refuge in Thailand.

I'm writing this particular post because I find the "transfer of power" in Burma to be very deceiving, and the implications of that are scary. Most people agree that while there is indeed a new parliament and president, the military and General Than Shwe still control the country (as evidenced by the "special fund" among other things). Burma is rich in natural resources and neighboring countries want access to these resources - oil, natural gas, jade and gems, to name a few. What's unnerving about it is the thought that in order to gain access to these resources, heads of state are willing to strip Burma's leaders of their much-deserved international pariah status, throw out the sanctions (a whole other debate, but used here in the symbolic sense) and welcome them back into the global and regional economies, telling the Burmese refugees residing in their lands, "Don't worry, maybe there are still 2,000 political prisoners, maybe your village was "too compromised" to vote or was burned to the ground, maybe you can't use an Internet phone or use the Internet at all, but we are telling you, Burma is a democracy now! Go home."

Reports have come out from Mae Sot, the border town where the movement for democracy and peace in Burma is thriving, that Thai Police have been partnering with Burmese Intelligence to crack down on pro-democracy organizations headquartered there. Apparently these organizations no longer serve a purpose since democracy has come to Burma. Thankfully, many leaders, like our own President Obama, understand that actions speak louder than words and have drawn attention to the fact that this new government in Burma may indeed just be the military in their civvies.

It remains to be seen what will happen to the refugees on the Thai-Burma border and to the Burmese citizens continuing to come across. My hope is that the international community is able to influence countries like China and Thailand to hold the new government of Burma accountable for its claim of democracy and that this shift within the government of Burma is indeed a step in the right direction.

Happy New Year!

Songkran was this week and actually, I'm afraid to step outside today because while it officially ended yesterday, I've been told that some people just don't want to give up and continue the festivities for several days afterwards. I can't afford to get anymore of my clothing wet, as it's been four days now and half of my wardrobe is soaked in dirty water from the moat. The laundry lady is not open because I can't see how clothes could ever line dry with the amount of water flying around this town.

Songkran, as it is known in Thailand ("Thingyan" in Burma) is the Buddhist New Year. Traditionally celebrated by sprinkling a few drops of water on the shoulders of passersby, it has, in recent years, turned into a full on water fight. My explanation really can't do this festival justice and I definitely didn't bring my camera out to take pictures, but I'll give it a go...Chiang Mai is surrounded by a moat and for the past three days, people have been lining the moat, selling super soakers, buckets with string to be lowered and refilled in the moat, beer and food to the thousands upon thousands of Thais, ex-pats and travelers of all ages walking around the city, weaving in and out of the bumper to bumper cars and drenching their friends and complete strangers, all the while shouting "Sa wat dee pee my!" Happy New Year!

Businesses have sponsored stages, complete with booming sound systems and sprinklers, dousing the dancing crowds below. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) I live about a block off of the moat and so each evening, when I've returned to my warm, dry room for a shower, some fresh water (to drink) and a change of clothes, the music is still blaring, people are screaming and I can literally hear the splashes of buckets being dumped.

On Thursday, my friend Erin and I went to say goodbye to a dear friend and fellow volunteer, Jessie, who returned to the states. No car would bring us back to my street for a near reasonable price because the traffic was completely halted. So we decided to suck it up and walk. We made our way to the moat, dodging in between the pickup trucks full of people dumping buckets and throwing white powder (baby powder, flour or laundry detergent - I was covered in them all) and finally escaped off the main street into the sois (alleys) where the water was less free flowing. We returned to my room, put our swimsuits on and grabbed our water guns. We would need them for protection, we both agreed as we set back out.

Songkran is the most genuinely fun and happy event I've ever participated in. Yes, at times I wanted to scream vicious words when I got a bucket of ice water dumped on me by an enthusiastic reveller. But I found the best solution was to shake it off, smile back and keep walking. No use getting mad because the next bucket would be waiting for you ten feet down the street.

I kept awing over the fact that this festival would never happen at home or in Europe. Fights would break out, environmentalists would be enraged at the amount of water being used and threats of "I'm going to sue you!" would ring in the air in place of the cheers of "sa wat dee pee myyyyyy!" It's reasons like this that I love Thailand. Yes, I will be slightly (okay, more than slightly) annoyed if, when I go out to get lunch in a few minutes, someone dumps a bucket of freezing cold water on me. But in the end, it really doesn't matter because my clothes will dry, my phone already has water damage anyway and Songkran in Chiang Mai has been the most fun and beautiful experience ever.

Burma Bubble

This weekend I had the opportunity to travel to Mae Sot, a Thai-Burma border town southwest of Chiang Mai, to see firsthand the work of the multitude of pro-democracy organizations stationed there. Mae Sot is located just a few kilometers from the actual Burma border and the "Thai-Myanmar Friendship Bridge" (Thailand is very popular, they also have a "Friendship Bridge" with Laos).

Farrah, a fellow AJWS volunteer, refers to Mae Sot as her little "Burma Bubble" and I understand what she means. There are Burmese signs are everywhere, an expansive Burmese market in the center of town and a majority of the women you see on the street are wearing traditional Burmese longyis (skirts) and ta na kah (a gold powder for the face). Most striking to me is the amount of political activism that exists, despite the clear security risks. Businesses have "Free Burma" signs and posters of Aung San Suu Kyi on their walls. I even read one menu at a very popular restaurant that vehemently denounced the Thai Police for their harsh treatment of migrant workers. I was struck by this because in Chiang Mai, these attitudes are a little more behind the scenes.

On Friday afternoon, Jessie, myself and two new AJWS Volunteers, Alea and Emma, took the six hour bus ride from Chiang Mai to Mae Sot, arriving just as the sun was setting. We managed to secure a ride to our guest house with a representative from Alea's partner NGO, a woman from Karen State in Burma. Immediately upon arrival Jessie and I had so many questions - how many Burmese migrants and refugees live in Mae Sot? Where are the refugee camps located? Who runs the refugee camps?

The woman explained to us that about half the people we would see around Mae Sot were from Burma. Many people live in the camps, run by United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), and are either registered with refugee status after going through an extensive interview process or simply live there, unregistered. In the camps, the Thai Burma Border Consortium (TBBC) assists UNHCR in providing food, work, school and medical care for the inhabitants and collecting data about population of the camps. This chart shows the large discrepancies in what the UNHCR reports and the actual numbers of people living in the camps - almost one third of the total population of the camps are unaccounted for by UNHCR reports. Camps are located all along the Thai-Burma, India-Burma, Bangladesh-Burma and China-Burma borders and migrant communities exist in close proximity to these camps, as well as in larger cities, such as Chiang Mai. The NGO I work for operates along the Thai-, India- and China-Burma borders. In the various camps my NGO holds trainings and discussions to educate women about their rights, reproductive health and politics. Quite simply, their mission is to increase the capacity of the women from Burma to become active political participants within Burmese society.

On Saturday, Jessie and I got the chance to tour the Women's Empowerment & Resource Center, a drop-in center and library run by my NGO in Mae Sot. I've spent the last few months helping to write funding proposals, edit reports and develop a social media presence for this amazing organization and so seeing the facilities and meeting more staff members was a much-appreciated opportunity.

Unsure of what to expect, we arrived at the Center to a welcoming and excited group of women. We sat around a table, eleven of us in total, including two of the leaders of the organization who helped found it 16 years ago. We took turns saying where we were from and what we did and although I was nervous at first, because of the language barrier and because I had so many questions for them, my nerves immediately subsided. Before I knew it, jokes and teasing comments were interspersed with serious questions about fundraising, strategic goals of the organization and daily goings on of the Center.

After talking for a while, two of the younger women (mid-twenties and clearly future leaders in the organization and the movement) took Jessie and I on a tour of the Center. We saw the library where men and women can check out books, watch informational films, read newspapers published in different ethnic languages and receive handouts about reproductive health and migrant rights. In the next room over we saw the sewing center where women can come to learn practical skills so they can be hired at one of the factories in the area. We met two of the migrant women and were told that they had been arrested at their factory by Thai authorities and sent back to Burma earlier that week. They had just come back to Thailand and were now working to improve their sewing skills so they could be hired somewhere because, as they explained to us, the factories are very competitive. People are desperate for work and women find it nearly impossible to take sick days or even maternity leave because someone else will be eager to fill their shoes. Needless to say, getting arrested and deported leaves one unemployed. Despite the extremely low pay, harsh treatment and meager living conditions, so many people show up every day looking for work and so migrant workers are expendable to factory managers.

We also saw the clinic where women can come to be treated for ailments resulting from common colds or infections, domestic violence and where they can receive prenatal care and advice. We sat down in the clinic for a while and looked at pictures of patients that they had taken to document the abuses. I should note that my NGO does not deal with any legal matters (they do provide counseling), but opens its doors as a safe haven and helps women connect with other groups that focus specifically on the legal system.

We got to talking and Jessie and I began asking them about their individual experiences. They shared with us about the corrupt education system in Burma, the horrible conditions of the factories and what it takes to break out of the gender stereotypes that exist in the patriarchal society of Burma. Now, I've grown up with everyone telling me that I can be anything I want in the world, that I can travel anywhere, attend any school if I study hard enough, make and control my own finances, date and marry whoever I want and choose whether or not I have children one day. In traditional Burmese society, women are given close to none of these options. Accepted gender roles dictate that women are child-bearers, homemakers and should be obedient to their husbands. Men are favored for educational opportunities within a family and are in charge of household economics. I cannot imagine the courage it takes to challenge that structure.

As soon as I learned where I'd be working and what I'd be doing here in Thailand I began reading reports, websites and paying attention to all things Burma. Every single book sitting on my shelf right now is about Burma, feminism and development (no one ever wants to borrow them...?). However, nothing has been as powerful as listening to the women I work with talk about what it's like to be a woman in a society like Burma. They talked about what it feels like to question and challenge the way women are treated throughout your community. To leave your home and live for months in a dark room, packed floor to ceiling with bunk beds and laundry baskets, each one holding one woman's belongings. To work more than twelve hours each day, just scraping by and always fearing Thai authorities and the inevitable costly bribe that you'll have to pay to get out of jail or a sticky situation. Granted, I am constantly analyzing gender roles/stereotypes of the West and how my own actions and beliefs fit into them, but I've been encouraged to think this way from Day 1.

Feeling we needed a little closing ceremony to pull the day full circle, Jessie and I rode our rented bikes to the Friendship Bridge at the border to watch the sunset over Burma. I'll admit, it wasn't the most picturesque of sunsets. The dire circumstances were all too evident as we watched people tread illegally through the tall bushes from Burma into Thailand. There was trash everywhere, morally questionable items for sale at a border market...we almost got attacked by a vicious dog and as we were walking Jessie swore some guy was following us (he was). As we sat on a cement bench next to some boys playing with kites and watched the sun set, we reflected on what we had discussed in the past 24 hours - that half the people in this Thai town are from Burma, that although it's an incredibly difficult life (an understatement), thousands come each year to work in Thailand rather than starve in Burma.

I have a lot of respect for the Burmese people. They've been struggling so long for peace and democracy and I think now more than ever is an amazing time to be involved in this movement. People are inspired by the events in Egypt and I find myself bogged down with emails from my Google Alert listing endless articles comparing Egypt to Burma. The women of Burma are special because they are at the forefront of this movement and as one of the founders of my NGO pointed out, "We will reach democracy and peace one day and once that happens, we will continue to work for gender equality."

Same, same...

...but different.

That's a saying you'll encounter almost daily here in Thailand. Oh, you like this apple? Have this banana instead - same, same (but different). You're never totally sure what you're going to get, which is incredibly aggravating but if you take it in stride and force yourself to smile, you'll find yourself laughing.

While waiting for the ferry in Phuket a few weeks ago, my new friend Julie wandered off for a few minutes and came back with a delicious, ice-cold coconut. I asked her where she got it, and she pointed me in the direction of a little food stall, where an older woman was selling drinks and snacks. She told me she paid 40 baht for it (which is a lot for a coconut, but we were in a ferry terminal, there weren't many options). I pushed my way up to the front of the line and politely asked the woman for a coconut, only to be told that the price of coconuts had risen to 50 baht in the last 60 seconds. Same request for a coconut, same women...but different prices. I couldn't bring myself to submit to this tumultuous coconut stock market and so I walked away, rejected and without a coconut.

I think about instances like this and I laugh out loud. When I first moved into my current apartment, I met God. He's been really helpful and keeps an eye out for everyone in the building. He plays his violin late at night in the lobby and comes to the rescue with roach-spray every time I find a cockroach in my bathroom (ugh).

Yes, God is actually his name. He's a middle-aged Thai man, with a quiet demeanor and limited English skills. If ever I ask him a question, he stares at me for several awkward seconds, and then slowly responds. One evening I came home and God was watching Fox News in the lobby (ha), in an attempt to be the friendly neighbor I asked him what channel number it was. He stared at me for a long, painful thirty seconds and then responded, "Twenty-four." I thanked him and went up to my room. I had barely set my bag down when there was a knock at my door. God was standing there, "Did you find it?" he asked.

"No..."

"I will help." And so I invited him in, turned on the TV and handed him the remote. He flipped through the channels, past twenty-four, twenty-five...forty-three...fifty-seven...sixty-six! He smiled at me and walked out. Twenty-four, sixty-six; same, same, but different.

This attitude is everywhere. Thais don't want to disappoint you or, lose face. If you ask someone for something and they don't have the answer, they'll simply make something up because they don't want to let you down. I've waited entirely too long for a dish at restaurant, realizing after a while that they sent someone out to get ingredients for the stir fry. When I first arrived, I got lost everywhere I went because if people don't know where you want to go, they'll make something up so they have an answer for you. It's very sweet, but I've stopped asking directions.

North vs. South

I'm experiencing a lot of firsts over here. First time in Asia, first time truly living in a foreign country, first Christmas away from my family, first New Years Eve outside of Seattle...I spent Christmas Eve and Day dodging my way through Bangkok in the Santa Hat that Julia gave me (because she knew how sad I was to not be with my family, what a friend!). Bangkok is big, muggy and expensive and I hope to spend as little time there as possible over the next year. After Christmas Brunch we hopped on a train to head down to Prachuap Khiri Khan, on the East Coast where my friends C'pher and Parker live. Our train journey led me to conclude that I should learn how to say "First class, air conditioning" in Thai. But we made it.

Prachuap is a beautiful little fishing town on the beach. There's a lovely long boardwalk down which Julia and I went for a Boxing Day run. There are very few farang (non-Asian foreigners) in the town and it's got a very slow vibe to it, which I enjoyed. Parker and C'pher have an amazing house literally on the beach with a great balcony overlooking the water. I'm convinced it's the nicest place I'm going to stay in for the next year.

Boxing Day evening we went out to a delicious seafood dinner, returned

to the house to pack and then the five of us (Julia, Parker, C'pher and his friend Danny) took an overnight bus to Krabi, a southern jump-off point for the islands. From Krabi, we went up the West Coast of Thailand, stopping in the Khao Lumpi-Hat National Park. The beach was amazing. For as far as the naked eye could see, we were the only living souls in existence. Sky blue water and calm waves, not a cloud in the sky. A few days later we ventured back down to Krabi and got on a ferry that took us to Koh Phi Phi.

I have mixed feelings about Phi Phi, which by the way is famous for being the place where The Beach was filmed. Immediately upon arrival the insanity of the island hits you. Everywhere you look there are drunken, hungover and half-naked farang, carrying beer or, more notably, "buckets". Buckets are a southern phenomenon. When empty, one might mistake them for an innocent child's sandcastle-building tool, but on Phi Phi they exist to hold copious amounts of liquor, soda and Red Bull (a Thai product, I learned). Each bucket has several straws shoved in it, because clearly this form of drinking needs to be a more social activity. Upon stepping off the ferry, each traveler is required to pay a 20 baht "Phi Phi Island Clean-Up Fee" to which almost everyone protests (myself included). However, after a few hours on the island, I am quite convinced this fee should be significantly larger or paid upon departure, in which case many people would be compelled simply by guilt to donate in more gracious amounts. One baht per straw, five baht per cigarette butt, ten baht per bodily fluid expelled in the ocean...sorry, but I had to say it.

But I'm being too hard on Phi Phi. It's actually beautiful. People flock there for a reason. The picture to the left is from the view point, which was a little bit of a trek up, plus you had to dodge wild monkeys. It's a small island, but because there are no cars or roads each separate shore and bay is quite isolated from the next. On Phi Phi we met up with Jessie and her two friends, Ariel and Julie, and all eight of us stayed in some bungalows up in the hills. It was shady and quiet up there. Each day, we ventured down to the beach to walk around or hire on a longtail boat to explore some more secluded places. Watching the NYE fireworks on the island was incredible because they were being lit right in from of us. Yes, I came close to being burned a handful of times by rogue fireworks and open the flames of makeshift kerosene lamps randomly decorating the sand, but I managed to leave the beach unscathed.

I spent New Years Day in paradise with the girls, laying on the beach in the softest, whitest sand I've ever seen. We could barely drag ourselves off the shore, but eventually, after sunset, we hired a longtail boat to taxi us back to the main beach.

I returned to Chiang Mai on Sunday evening and while the south of Thailand is picture-perfect and a lot of fun (mark my words, I will go back!), I'm so happy to be back in the north where the hills are green, the air is cool and the people are just really laid back.