Every time that I start a new work assignment, I step into a situation or environment that already exists and since “you can’t unboil an egg” I have to listen, learn, determine what can versus needs to be done and press on. Much of what exists in relation to the volunteer work that I’m doing is a result of government mandates, lack of funds, lack of availability to find tools and resources, and engrained cultural norms. Please also understand that while it may sound a bit grueling at times and far different than what might be able to be done in a developed nation, this is what is available here. It’s simply a different way of life and the managers of this program, along with the volunteers, make the best of it. Frankly, it’s humbling.

Week One, Day One: Monday

I’m off to the Huay Sangnao primary school to teach English. My first class is equivalent to what I believe would be Grade 3 students, my second is Grade 4, but they’ll have the same lesson. Then, in the afternoon, I’ll teach Grade 5, and finally, at 5pm, I’ll teach an after school class of mixed students. The day is a little choppy. The morning classes are back to back, but then we get a two hour lunch break, then about another two hours until I have to go back for the after school session. The school is only about a five-minute bike ride from our house so I ride back and forth three times.

I’ve done plenty of trainings and presentations for teams of adults in a corporate office setting, but I’ve never taught children. So right here, I’d like to stop, take a moment, and thank all of you out there who teach children or run a daycare for that matter. I have a new level of appreciation for all of your hard work, endless patience, and energy. Shaping young minds takes a special set of skills. I initially thought that this would be a very easy day but it turns out that teaching, especially to young children who don’t understand everything that I’m saying, is emotionally draining.

Vang Vieng Elementary School English Book – one of our lessons… not easy to teach when the kids don’t have books.

I was a little frustrated with the books that we were given for the class because they didn’t seem to follow a logical progression for learning English, but they are approved and mandated by Laos’ government, so there is no changing them. Once I got in the classroom, I also learned that not all of the children have books, so the beginning of each lesson consists of a vocabulary session where I write all of the words that we’re going to use that day on the board for the kids to copy, practice saying aloud, and then spelling. They’re very good at saying most of the words and copying them, but they can’t spell them without looking at them. I determined that they don’t really know what the words mean either, so they have trouble turning them into a sentence. The comprehension level seemed to vary widely, so some could copy in just minutes while others took much longer. This means the advanced kids get bored while waiting for the others, start talking to one another, and I lose their attention. Then their talking distracts the rest of the class and slowly I lose control of the whole dynamic. I did everything I could think of to keep their attention, which meant that class quickly turned into a game of charades and then somehow morphed into songs when it was clear that a prior volunteer had taught them a few catchy tunes. Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes… You put your left hand in, you put your left hand out, you put your left hand in and you shake it all about…

Teaching the after school class.

The classrooms are rudimentary with concrete floors, two-person desks with bench seats, and two chalkboards leaning against the wall in the front of the classroom. Some of the windows open and some don’t. Only one of my classrooms had a fan and it was broken. There is chalk and little cloth bags full of cotton to be used as erasers. Most of the children have notebooks and pens and they all wear uniforms, except in the “after school” class.

I watched these kids and even while they spoke another language, it was easy to pick out the class clown, the queen bee, the studious ones, the shy ones, the leaders, and the followers. There were those who liked attention for doing good work and those who liked attention for doing poor work. It’s funny how not much changes as we grow up.

Week One, Day Two: Tuesday

I’m off to the farm, which is a block of land in Ban Pak Po.  My fellow volunteers are trickling out the door one by one. One of them tells me, “make a right at the end of the road and then stay on the main road and keep riding for 25 minutes until you cross the bridge.” By then, she assured me that she will have caught up to me and will show me where to turn off for the farm. The ride has small rolling hills and quite a bit of traffic, which consists of pedestrians walking along the road, other bikes, motorbikes, cars and trucks. Cyclists have as much of the “right of way” on the road as other motorized vehicles. I wish I had one of those masks I mentioned in Things that make me go hmmm because the truck and motorcycle fumes are nauseating, but at least my sunglasses keep the dust out of my eyes. The first half of the ride is a bit hectic, but the second half is quiet and lovely with the mountains to the left of me the whole way.

Fruit Friends Farm (Garden)

As we arrive at the farm, I couldn’t immediately differentiate which were plants and which were weeds. It seems that with the ebb and flow of volunteers, the weeds can overrun quite quickly. After surveying the land, I would describe this project as a garden, not a farm. There are no animals and it definitely requires daily maintenance, unlike crops that might be planted on a farm. The first thing that we need to do is water all of the flower and vegetable beds, and then all of the trees. We have banana trees, pineapple plants, mango trees, cassava, lime, and a host of others along with onions, lettuce, lemongrass, and a few other vegetables. Honestly, I’m still learning them all because they aren’t labeled and the program manager, Sai, often only knows the Lao name for them, so I have to translate the Lao name to English. It’s a long, uphill lot and the only option for watering is a well. We have 2-5 gallon jugs and 3 watering cans. One person has to man the well and pull water up bucket by bucket, then we all take turns filling the watering cans and jugs, and the rest of us walk the lot to do the watering. With 5 volunteers, it takes about 90-minutes to water everything. By the end of the week, we will be down to just me and one other volunteer. I imagine it will take well over two hours by that time.

Trail to the shed in the garden. Hopefully this will soon be the toilet instead of the shed.

After watering, there are a list of other things that need to be done… weeding almost everywhere, sanding the new hut that was built so that we can seal the wood, building a compost bin to try to improve the soil, and cleaning out the shed so that it can be used for it’s originally intended purpose as a toilet.   Right now, working on the garden means strategically drinking enough water to stay hydrated in 100F degree (38C) heat but not drinking so much that you’ll need to use the toilet because it’s not accessible.

The recently built hut in the Fruit Friends Garden.

We finished watering around 10:30am and then started weeding. Our program manager, Sai, stops by the Fruit Friends house every morning to organize the day and ensure that everyone is going where they are scheduled to go. Also, Boun, our Head of House, is his wife, so in the morning, after Boun ensures that we’ve all gotten breakfast, she makes us lunch. Sai waits for her to finish making it and packing it for us and then he brings it to the garden. We stop for lunch around 11:30am because by that time we’ve worked up quite an appetite. We leisurely enjoy our food under our newly constructed hut in the shade and once we’ve digested our food, we go back to whatever we were working on before we started eating. By 2pm, we start watering again. This is the hot, dry season so the plants need to be watered twice a day to survive.

At about 3pm, Sanne, one of the other volunteers, and I stop watering and ride the thirty minutes back to the house. Both of us are assigned to after school English classes this week, so we have to shower, change and then ride to the primary school by 5pm to teach for an hour. Clearly I was a little too soft on this class of students in Monday’s class because today they are walking all over me… talking amongst themselves, taking twice as

The angels / devils in my English class in Vang Vieng.

long to copy words than it should, running in and out of the classroom. To top it off, it’s super hot so we have all of the windows and door open, which means that the kids who are still there, playing in the yard, occasionally pass by the windows and yell to someone in the class. It’s utter chaos. All of my ideas from Monday seem to be useless. While I was writing on the board, they even went through my bag and found my camera and were looking at pictures. By that point, I gave up and just let them look at the pictures for the last 10 minutes. I was exasperated. These adorable children are terrors.

Week One, Day Three: Wednesday

I’m off to the garden again and this time I know where I’m going and I feel a little more comfortable biking in traffic so I enjoy the ride. The morning goes much like the prior one except that today there are only 4 of us to do the watering. Some time in the middle of watering, Sai joined us and informed us that we needed to go to the secondary school in the village of Keo Kuang to help them work. Fruit Friends has already built a primary school in this remote village and now they are adding a secondary school. The village of

The Village of Keo Kuang

Keo Kuang is an hour drive away, about twenty minutes on the main road and another forty on a narrow, winding, mountain road. They were cementing the walls of the outside of the building today. This means sifting sand, manually mixing cement, and then running buckets of water and cement back and forth to the local laborers who were working on the walls. Initially, I felt like I was standing around and doing nothing, waiting for them to need more water or cement. So, when they took their lunch break, I asked Sai if I could mix more cement for them. He said yes and instructed me as I worked on it. That was my first time mixing cement and I liked learning something new. Sai also walked me over to the primary school that they had finished to show me their work. It looked exactly the same as the other two schools that I’ve seen. There was one problem, though… they had built a building for three toilets but there were no doors. The boys often used them anyway or found a tree around the outside of the yard, but the girls often had to run to a neighboring house to ask to use the toilet. When I talked to Sai about why they hadn’t finished the doors, he said they needed a professional to come back out because he didn’t have a power drill to install the hinges for the doors.   They had all the materials, but needed 300,000 kip to pay the laborer. This is $36. I told him I would donate it but wanted to see the doors on the building before I finished my volunteer time. Considering that they were already working on another site, I wondered if it was truly the money, or perhaps availability, motivation, or indifference, but as a woman, providing a closed-door toilet just seemed like human decency.

Sanne and I had to get back for our after school class, so we left the site around 2:30pm, drove an hour back to the garden, picked up our bikes, rode home, showered, changed and rode to the school. The kids were as much a nightmare as the day prior, so I had to put on my serious, “don’t mess with me” face and let them know that I would kick them out of the class if they didn’t listen. I also had to close the door and windows on the side of the room that faced the yard to prevent the other kids from distracting us, which meant that I was teaching in a classroom that felt like a sauna. They didn’t like my sudden change in attitude, but at least they started to realize that I was serious when I kicked two kids out. Give me strength… teaching is much harder than any physical labor that I do all day at the garden or the construction site.

Week One, Day Four: Thursday

It’s a teaching day. After last night’s “after school” class, I’m not really looking forward to it, but I’ve been silently giving myself positive coaching all morning as I get ready to leave. I could tell that Sanne felt the same way that I did as we walked out the door. We wished each other good luck before going separate directions into our classes. The first class went okay. They were a little tough, but I made it through with no major disruptions. I went on to my second class and they were angels, especially in comparison to the first class!! I even got some thank you’s at the end of class. Wow, maybe I was getting the hang of this.

When Sanne and I went home for lunch, Davone, the other program manager, was at the house and she informed us that there was no afternoon class on Thursdays and that we wouldn’t have to teach next week, which might have been the best news that Sanne and I had heard all week. Every week on Thursday afternoon, the kids have game time all afternoon long. I think it’s a little like what gym class would be for us in the States, except that they do it for much longer. Between the bike rides or walks to school and the playing in the yard, these kids seem to get much more exercise than probably 90% of the kids in the US (Don’t quote me on that; I’ve done no research whatsoever. I just see a lot of kids in the US sitting in front of TV’s, computers, and X-boxes). Sanne and I had a relaxing afternoon and then went back to the school for our after school class at 5pm. Again, not so bad… I still had to kick two or three kids out of the room, but all the others got the point. They know what my limits are now.

Week One, Day Five: Friday

Off to the garden and today it’s only Sanne and I. We’ll have to do all of the watering, just the two of us. Sai had to get supplies for the construction project today so he won’t be coming until later. It’s much easier when he’s there because he’s stronger and can pull buckets of water up from the well much faster than we can. Without him, it took us about two hours, which wasn’t bad considering we had twice the volunteers on Wednesday.

After watering, we are off to Keo Kuang again. They are finishing with the cementing today. By the time we arrive, it’s lunchtime, so we eat first. As we finish lunch, the construction

Learning how to cement the walls of our school in Keo Kuang.

crew breaks for their lunch, so we start by sifting sand to make more cement. Once we finish, they set up some wobbly scaffolding and told us to climb up. Exciting! I expected a somewhat boring day since during the last visit, I mainly just carried buckets back and forth. This time, it seemed like they were going to teach us how to cement the wall… and that’s exactly what they did. I think we did well for our first time, although there is certainly a technique that can come only with practice. The professionals had to smooth our sections out a bit at the end.

After finishing the wall, we had to jump back in the truck to head back to the farm, pick up our bikes, ride to the house, shower, and change to teach our after school class. When we arrived, my classroom was locked, so Sanne and I decided to double up on her class. This worked very well. The kids weren’t sure why I was there, didn’t know me, or what boundaries they could push with me, and there were two of us to keep them orderly. When I was writing on the board or asking them to copy, Sanne was able to walk around the room and check their work. It was a very good end to what was a rocky week of teaching.

I went through a roller coaster ride of emotions this week, but I can attest that every day seemed to get a little bit easier. It definitely helped that I moved into a downstairs bedroom in the house, had a little more privacy and could easily rest or go to sleep when I needed to recuperate.  Assignments like this one make me appreciate the simplest things in life. I’m slowly beginning to revel again.

More to come soon on the town and goals of our projects…

Jomo Bakery Cafe in Vientiane.

I awoke early full of excitement and anticipation for my journey and the orientation for my volunteer project that would follow once I arrived in Vang Vieng. I got myself packed and ready, then strolled down the street to find a cute breakfast spot where I would be able to sit outside and enjoy the cool morning air and observe the town coming to life. Jomo Bakery Café offered just what I needed with a delicious breakfast burrito and soy café latte, my first taste of caffeine in nearly a month. I watched other travelers stroll in and out, trying as I always do to determine their nationality by their accents, style of dress or the

The friendly man who gave me my hot pink braided bracelet.

name brands on their clothing. My attention was drawn regularly to a man sitting on the sidewalk in front of the café offering braided bracelets for a donation. One child approached and then another passerby. Many of the locals riding by on their bikes shouted good morning to this fellow and he offered a kind, warm smile in return. I offered a donation for a bracelet as I left and was surprised that as he tied it on my wrist, he said a chant or perhaps some sort of prayer. It immediately made me feel like I was armed with a bit of protection for the road ahead.

Back at the hotel, I patiently waited for my driver to collect me and take me to the bus stop. There were three of us departing from my hotel and we only had to go about 5 minutes away to get to the meeting point for the bus. When we arrived, I was a little puzzled because there was only a bus and I had purchased a ticket for a minivan. For only $2 more, I thought that a minivan might be a little more comfortable for the three to four hour winding, bumpy ride into the mountains. As our small group approached the bus, it seemed it didn’t matter because there were no more seats left for anyone else. The operator who was organizing everyone said that we were going to have to wait for the travel company to bring another bus, which would arrive in about an hour. So, five of us crossed the street to a few wobbly benches under some trees and awaited our fate. I quickly grew bored, hot, and uncomfortable, so I went across the street in the other direction to get some pineapple mint juice, sit by a fan, and work out my frustration, which was waning with every sip of the ice cold, delicious potion in front of me.

The bus to Vang Vieng.

About 75 minutes later, another bus arrived. It seemed futile to argue about a minivan. At that point, I just wanted to get to Vang Vieng and after chatting with a few of the others who were waiting, apparently several of them had paid for a minivan as well. The bus was comfortable enough so off I went.

I sat next to an Australian backpacker who would be continuing on to Luang Prabang with her friend after a short stay in Vang Vieng. We compared itineraries and our malaria medications, chatted about observations on the road and then drifted off into our own thoughts. I had fortunately gotten a window seat and was absorbing the scenery of our route, which was surprisingly lined with houses, small grocery stands and souvenir counters along most of the first 90-minutes of our ride. There were a few small fields with cows or farm stands selling watermelon, but it was far less rural than what I expected. We stopped for a break to stretch our legs and use the restroom before starting up the mountainous section of our drive. The restrooms were scant as I expected but what was a

The chicken pecking at trash next to our roadside rest stop.

little frustrating and sad was the amount of litter that lined the shoulders of the roads and sides of buildings. I had been witnessing it the entire way but was shocked when I saw a chicken pecking at some trash on the ground, standing within a stones throw of a trash can right next to our roadside stop. How was this amount of litter acceptable and ignored? Since I had been seeing it along the roadways, I could only conclude that it wasn’t just tourists who were potentially leaving it. It had to be the result of locals as well. I read that subsistence agriculture accounts for half of the county’s GDP and I wondered how a culture so reliant on the land could be so ignorant of the affects of litter and pollution on that very same land.

The rest of our drive into the mountains was a slow one and far more rural than what I had witnessed during the former part of the ride. The roads are narrow and although this country officially drives on the right hand side of the road, it seems that the road rules are a little loose, so more often than not our bus was driving down the center of the road, passing those walking or biking on the side. There are lots of potholes and rocks in various sections and our bus’ radiator and engine seemed to be languishing in the heat under the strain of the air conditioning. It took about two and half more hours for us to make it to Vang Vieng. When we pulled into the bus station, we were informed that we needed to hop into the van that was parked next to our bus to be dropped off at the center of town, which only took about five more minutes. In the center of town, the streets were bustling with backpackers searching for hostels or guesthouses, and tourists roaming the shops. I easily found a tuk-tuk driver who knew where my accommodation was located, so I negotiated my rate for the short drive in the best Lao I could muster.

Fruit Friends House

We turned off the main street onto a rocky, dirt road and my driver shouted to a few kids playing in the street to inquire how far down the road the house was located. We pulled up to a friendly and welcoming home that read Fruit Friends in red over the open front door. As I climbed out of my tuk-tuk, a young girl emerged from the house and quickly took my bag, which was almost as big as she was. Her name was On – she welcomed me and invited me inside. As is customary with all homes in Laos, I left my shoes outside the front door and stepped inside to a large, open living room with a desk to one side, cushions on the linoleum floor, and a staircase on the left. On introduced me to another young girl named Ved. The two of them gave me a quick tour of the first floor, which consisted of a kitchen, 3 restrooms with showers, back patio with washing machine and clothes lines, and two bedrooms off to the side. I was informed that both of those bedrooms were occupied so On scampered up the very steep stairs carrying my 17 kilo (38 pound) bag as if it were a sack of feathers and asked me to follow her. On the second floor, there were 3 more bedrooms. She informed me that she and Ved share the first bedroom and then opened the door to the second, which would be my room, to drop my

My shared bedroom.

bag by the bed. I walked into a wall of heat as I stepped through the door and much to my astonishment at 4pm in the afternoon, there was a very dazed blond haired girl asleep in the bed next to mine. It was a very small room, with only enough space for one person to stand between the beds. The girl’s name was Laurel, she was from Oregon, and she tried her best to give me a friendly hello before apologizing for her delirious state. Apparently she was very sick and had been sleeping all day. After my prior illnesses on the road, I was instantly filled with both panic for my own health and sympathy for her condition. I haven’t had a roommate in over ten years and I had certainly never shared a room that small with a complete stranger, a sick one at that. As On was explaining a few more housekeeping items, I was mentally recalling where I had stashed my emergen-C in my pack and calculating when I would be able to gulp it down with a glass of water.

We went back downstairs as On explained that Davone, one of the program managers, was on her way to the house to meet me and give me my orientation regarding the volunteer work. While waiting, I chatted with On and Ved, who were respectively 15 and 17 years old. They live in the house and help a lady named Boun with the cooking and housekeeping for all of the volunteers. The volunteers are provided with breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. The girls were friendly and sweet, and it seemed they could understand more English than what they could speak. I excused myself to use the

Shower trashcan

restroom and upon investigation was a little horrified with the lack of cleanliness and couldn’t seem to find light. Curiously there was also a large black rubber trashcan next to the shower. I was told that I would need to share this bathroom with Laurel, as well as the bedroom, so I made a mental note to ask her about the trashcan later and ask if she ever cleans her space.  I made a second mental note to pick up shower shoes or flip flops in town as soon as possible. When I asked On & Ved about the light, they told me there was none. Due to their limited English and my limited Lao, I wasn’t sure if that meant there was no electricity, period, or if this was a temporary state.

When Davone arrived she too was very friendly and welcoming. She explained that Laurel, my roommate, was one of four volunteers who would be leaving mid-week. I would be able to have one of the bedrooms on the first floor once that group left, which made me feel a little relieved. I could handle a roommate for 3 or 4 days. I decided I would load up on vitamin C and then try my hardest to cure Laurel’s illness with the extensive supply of medication in my first aid kit so that she didn’t share it with me in the short overlap of our visits. Davone also explained that due to the shortage of current volunteers, although I had requested farm work, in addition, she was going to need me to teach English every day that week at an after school program, as well as three additional classes on Monday and Thursday at the primary school during the day. So I would only go to the farm on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, and leave by 3pm to come back to the house, shower, and change to go to the after school program on those days. Wow, seemed like long days but I was there to work and they clearly needed the help, so I assured her it was no problem. She showed me the English books for the classes, where the schedule was posted, how to reach her if I had questions, and reviewed the white board that showed the schedule of all the volunteers. It appeared that I would be maintaining the same schedule as a volunteer named Sanne this week.

When Davone left, I decided that I would go explore the town a bit and find some flip flops. It seemed like they would be easiest to wear anyway since there was an outside table where the volunteers often ate dinner, which meant that I would be taking my shoes on and off frequently going in and out of the house. There were half a dozen bikes available for use because that is how all of the volunteers got to the school and the farm. As I was leaving, one of the other volunteers rode up on a bike and asked Davone if the electricity was still out. When she said yes, he huffed and rode off again. He seemed frustrated but I was relieved that it seemed like a temporary problem. In town, I was thrilled

Sunset over the mountains from Vang Vieng town center.

that there were so many people out walking despite the heat. I was also pleased that there were plenty of ATMs, convenience stores, shops, restaurants and bars. It looked like it was going to be a fun place. I stopped in a bakery that had delicious looking pastries in a glass cabinet and ordered a juice. It was a great spot to stare at the sunset, people watch and get some free wifi.

When I got back to the house, an easy 5 to 10 minute bike ride from town, I was drenched in sweat. The rest of the volunteers were there, the electricity was back on, and the girls were cooking dinner, which is served by 7pm every night. I decided to take a shower before we ate but could only seem to get a cold drizzle of water. I thought I must be doing something wrong. The cold didn’t bother me since it was so hot and the low pressure was okay that day, but if that’s what the pressure was like all the time, I had no idea how I was going to wash dirt off of me after working on a farm all day. This should be interesting I thought.

That night we had a communal dinner of some type of noodle dish with vegetables that was distinctly Lao and very good. I learned that all of the other volunteers were from the US and they were all between 18 and 21 years old. I felt like the mama bear, but I didn’t tell them how old I was. I could tell from the dinner conversation that they were living it up a bit in Laos doing all of the things that they couldn’t do in the States. They made mention of taking me out that night for my first night in town, but I had no interest in alcohol in that kind of heat or drinking the night before I started work. I politely declined and instead tried to create some sort of lesson plan for my classes the next day before going to bed that night.

I could tell that the day’s events and discoveries had taken a bit of an emotional toll along with the heat and I knew I was in a bit of shock. I laid in bed that night with two fans blowing on me carefully directing the inner dialogue in my mind… reminding myself to stay positive, take it day by day, keep an open mind and just do my best. I still believed volunteering and living in this way would provide me a greater education about the Lao culture than hanging out with the backpackers in town and going on tours. After all, I would be living with two Lao girls and working with two other Lao program managers and a house manager. I was sure my day would seem easier in the morning.

Sometimes gratitude is free flowing and other days I search for it… the revelling always comes back to me.

I’m on my way to Vang Vieng, Laos!! I have about 12 weeks to see South East Asia, and although my initial travel plans when I left 18 months ago (yes, 18 months!!) were to spend a month in each country, this time, I decided that I needed to see more. I also feel more confident wandering so nothing is planned, except for my decision to volunteer for three weeks on a farm in Laos. Why volunteering?  Sometimes, I can hardly believe I’ve been a nomad for this long, but over the course of this time, I feel like the universe has given me so much that I need to give a little back to the world. Why Laos? Let’s just say, paths collided and there was a meeting of the minds. So, here’s how the adventure begins…

It was a lively crowd on the noon flight out of LAX to Hong Kong, which I knew would make for an interesting fifteen and a half hours. I had a window seat and was sitting next to an older Asian couple, who were perfectly content fading in and out of sleep. I was well into my third movie almost 9 hours into the flight, catching up on all the Oscar nominated films that I missed, when the octave level of the passengers seated two rows behind me kicked up a notch. They had been talking and joking loudly the entire flight, but the conversation seemed to have turned into an argument. They were so loud that I couldn’t hear my movie and when I turned around to see what was happening, about four flight attendants were gathered all around the row of seats asking a very inebriated, Spanish-speaking man to calm down. For the sake of the story, I’ll call him Mr. Odioso. There was gesturing, then shuffling of the passengers in the row where Mr. Odioso was seated and clearing of the passengers in the row in front of him. Everyone’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. I had turned back around for a moment to pause my movie and when I glanced back again there was some sort of scuffle. Did Mr. Odioso have the neighboring passenger in a headlock, or was he just pulling his hair? I couldn’t tell, but that was the beginning of the end for him.

It didn’t take long for the flight attendants to issue more escalated warnings to Mr. Odioso, which seemed to be met with complete disregard. A few minutes later, one of the flight attendants came back with plastic handcuffs and it only took two seconds for a rather burly man one further row back to volunteer to hold Mr. Odioso down so that they could handcuff his hands behind his back and then strap him into his seat with a seatbelt at both his waist and across his chest. At this point, he proceeded to yell and whine and threaten what he would do if he got out of those restraints. I recognized some of the Spanish slang and curse words, and he seemed hell bent on letting everyone know that he was from Mexico. Ok, Mr. Odioso, way to represent Mexico. After about an hour, his rants trailed off into what sounded like a 4-year olds temper tantrum, and then eventually what I can only describe as the kind of whimpering that you might hear from a puppy. This went on for nearly 5 more hours. It wasn’t until the last hour of the flight that they allowed him to use the restroom and then moved him to a different seat in the back of the plane. Hmmm… think twice before you decide to get drunk on a plane these days. I’m fairly certain that Mr. Odioso went straight to Hong Kong security when he deplaned and that is no way to start a holiday.

Installation art in the Hong Kong Airport.

Once I got to Hong Kong, I had a short layover between planes. In my transition, I couldn’t help but notice that the restroom attendant was outfitted in a hospital mask and was carrying a bag of trash in one hand and a pair of large kitchen tongs in the other hand… the kind of tongs that you might use while grilling. It struck me as such an odd picture and made me wonder, why was she using kitchen tongs in the first place and what exactly was she picking up that required such long tongs? Hmmm. I didn’t speak enough Thai to ask, didn’t have enough time to wait and see, nor did I think that taking a picture in a public restroom appropriate. At this point, I hadn’t really slept a wink and when in a dazed state, I tend not to engage others in a foreign country. So, as I waited for my second flight to board, I listened to music and observed. There were many more people walking around wearing masks. I did recall this from being in the Bangkok airport last year, but had forgotten. I wondered… do they wear masks because they’re sick and they’re politely shielding us from their germs, or are they trying to keep from breathing the rest of the world’s germs? Or is it both? Hmmm.

Bussaba Bangkok hotel room.

When I arrived in Bangkok, I was relieved to move rather effortlessly through passport control, baggage reclaim, and then the taxi stand. My hotel in Bangkok was close to the airport and turned out to be a bit of an oasis outside of the crowded downtown city area, which was fine for my short 3-night stay. Why only three nights?  Well, I had a hard time figuring out where to start and I procrastinated a bit when booking so only a week before I departed, I decided it would be least expensive to fly to Bangkok, get an initial feel for the city and then decide if I wanted to go back. It would also help to acclimate to the region before I started working / volunteering.  Finally, my travel doctor made a strong case for obtaining the vaccination for Japanese Encephalitis since I would be working, trekking, and traveling through very rural parts that have had cases. As it turns out, the best vaccination for the disease is made in the US but only sold in Asia and the easiest place to get it is Bangkok. It’s also about a fifth of the cost of those sold in the US. So, after what felt like a very short night of sleep, I ventured off to Bangkok Grand Central Hospital to request my vaccination.

When I arrived at the hospital, it was easy enough to find an attendant who spoke English and explain that I wanted the vaccination. She in turn, found a nurse, who took my vitals. The nurse then passed me on to a doctor who clarified and verified what I was requesting. The doctor sent me to the pharmacy technician who administered the shot and the technician sent me on to the cashier. Every single one of them looked at me a little funny and asked in a tone that was half question, half statement, “you want Japanese Encephalitis vaccination?”   “Yes”, I would say not wanting to get into too much detail. “O-kay” would be the response. I’m fairly certain they were thinking, hmmm, crazy American.

One of the side effects of the vaccination is muscle soreness, which I felt almost immediately after receiving the shot, so although initially I thought I would stroll for a bit, the hospital wasn’t really close to any sites so I quickly changed course and hopped in a taxi. I’ve heard some great things about Bangkok, but I’ve got to tell you that it was nearly 100 degrees (38 degrees Celsius), smoggy, loud, and traffic was terrible.

Lumpini Park covered in blossoms.

I asked the taxi driver to take me to the first green space that I could find on my map for a little peace. It turned out to be Lumpini Park. It was lovely and long, with blossoms half covering the grounds, and new flowers in bloom. There were gardeners tending to the watering and it seemed the only other people insane enough to be outside in such hot weather were other tourists snapping a few photos. After walking the length of the park,

Lumpini Park walking path.

I decided to do as the locals do and find some air conditioning, which led me toward Central Plaza. I enjoyed my first Thai meal, rehydrated, purchased some Lonely Planet phrasebooks for Thai and Lao, and realized that I was still exhausted and sore. I also wanted to get out of the city before rush hour, so back in a taxi I went to my little oasis.

As we drove back to the hotel, I saw mopeds riding down the shoulder on the wrong side of the road, families of four on motorcycles, mothers with babies strapped across their chest on their moped, and plenty of bicycles carrying two people. I’ve witnessed this in smaller towns and villages but wouldn’t necessarily have expected to see it in such heavy traffic on main highways and roads. Hmmm, interesting. Also, while walking on the sidewalks near the highway that day, I decided that the masks everyone seems to wear are to keep germs or dust out and I wished I had one.

Koi pond at Bussaba Bangkok.

My next day consisted of exploring my neighborhood, tasting some local fruits at a nearby market, getting a fantastic Thai massage for $6, relaxing by my hotel’s koi pond while feeding the fish, and studying my Thai and Lao phrasebooks. It was just the type of day that I needed to battle jetlag. Everything else required almost an hour-long taxi ride into the city anyway so I decided I would come back and stay in the city next time. The following morning I was off to Vientiane, the capital city of Laos.

Buddhist Temple along the streets of Vientiane.

Vientiane was an easy hour-long flight and we still received a full breakfast on Bangkok Airways. Visas were simple and cost $35 upon arrival. The center of Vientiane was a quick 10-minute taxi ride and I could tell immediately that this place would be a bit more my speed. It was smaller, bustling with backpackers, and cute shops and restaurants. Buddhist temples dotted the route and I could instantly feel the surrounding

The streets of Vientiane.

community influence. My hotel allowed for an early check-in, so once I dropped my bag, I was off to explore. I booked my bus ticket for the following morning to get to Vang Vieng, got a watermelon shake and decided to try some Indian food, which was delicious. By the time I had walked around for two hours and finished lunch, I was so hot that I had to go back inside for some air conditioning. When I went back out again to explore the temples and museum, they were closing, so instead I wandered through the neighborhoods. By this time, the sun was setting, the air was cooling off a bit and people were in their homes.

Wandering neighborhoods is one of my favorite things to do when I travel to get a feel for how the locals live. In Vientiane, the homes were close together and very open – the front of many of the homes seemed to have doors resembling garage doors, which were wide open so I could see the living area. Hmmm. I wondered if many people work from their homes or leave the doors open to get air since it is so hot. There were people playing cards, preparing food, playing games, doing hairdressing, organizing supplies, and all sorts of other activities. The children were playing

Restaurant and lounge in Vientiane.

in the streets and dogs were roaming freely. “Sai-ba-dee”, the kids would shout and wave. Sai-ba-dee, I would reply – it is the standard greeting in Laos. I stopped by the local street vendors and chose randomly from the selection of fried foods. I bit into what turned out to be some type of donut with coconut custard in the middle. It was delicious! By the time I walked back to the main street where my hotel was located, the entire street had come to life. It was almost 8pm and the restaurants were getting busy and the bars were just opening their windows to let in the cooler night air. I wasn’t all that hungry in the hot weather so I lingered just to absorb some of the energy before going back to organize my things for the morning.

My bus ride the next day would be between three to four hours and once I reached Vang Vieng, I would have my orientation for working on the farm…

Revelling in gratitude … to be continued…

I know what you’re thinking…

Dubai disappearing in the fog

I disappeared on all of you again.  It seems it’s becoming a bit of a pattern.  As I transition through the end of a work assignment and start planning the next adventure or visit, my blogging goes to the back burner.  Here’s the good news, the next adventure has begun and I’m super excited to start sharing it with you, but before I do, I owe you a final post from my time in Dubai.  Many of you have asked about the excursions, tours, or sightseeing that I did there, so I wanted to give you an update before I move on to the next adventure.

As I’ve alluded in prior posts, I didn’t exactly have an affinity for UAE culture, but it should be noted that there is a plethora of things to do and see there – really just about anything your heart desires, if you don’t mind spending a significant amount of money along the way.  And I do mean anything… from indoor skiing to amusement parks, to lavish restaurants and bars and big name concerts, as well as diving, camel rides, horse racing, car racing, you can find it.  Opulence, fantastic service delivery, and a very open minded philosophy for an Arab nation, has attracted the most diverse expat community I have ever witnessed.  Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, and his father before him, with their “build it and they will come” motto, are brilliant.  They didn’t just think it, they committed to it and the results are astounding if you look at the explosive growth that has occurred in Dubai over the past 30 years.

View from the 125th floor of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world.

Now, all that being said, I’m not all that comfortable with frivolously throwing my hard earned money around because after traveling for about a year, I’ve learned that a lavish weekend in Dubai could last a week or even a month in places like Peru, South Africa, or South East Asia.  So, when I decided to explore the view from the top of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world based in the heart of downtown Duabi, instead of paying $125 to go to the 165th floor, I opted for the second rate experience on the 125th floor, which costs about $35.  I’m told there are drinks, food, and a far more luxurious experience “At the Top”, but I don’t believe the view would have been all that different.  It is the only place where I was able to clearly see the Palm Jumeirah, an artificial archipelago of islands in the shape of a palm tree, and the World Islands, shaped as the name implies. Both are best seen from the sky, so if you’re in Dubai for a short week-long holiday and you want to go all out, I say do it.  It is exactly that, an experience.  You may just have to pick your poisons or your penchants as you go.

A shimmering view of the Dubai Marina Walk.

While I was there, I tried to find things that I would enjoy specifically in that climate, so while an indoor ski slope at the Mall of the Emirates was certainty a novelty, I felt confident that it wouldn’t beat the experience of skiing Mammoth or Vale, let alone slopes throughout Europe, so I opted to pass.  I did go to a concert on the Palm Jumeirah that I thoroughly enjoyed, although I suspect more so for the company and location than the event.  I did

The Miracle Garden – holds the record in Guinness Book of Records for having the longest wall of flowers

ride the fastest roller coaster in the world at Ferrari World on Yas Island in Abu Dhabi, which was hair raising fun.  The Marina is a great place for a lovely stroll and it has some great restaurants and bars.  It can be very crowded on the weekends and tough to get there due to traffic, so the best way to go if you aren’t staying there is by metro.  Even the Miracle Garden turned out to be a pleasant afternoon stroll.  For the garden, check times – it is only open for part of the year.

Fountain display at the Dubai Mall

I was a bit disappointed with the Dubai Museum, as it was fairly small and lacked the intricacies of the historical and cultural detail that I was seeking. I visited the Mall of the Emirates, Marina Mall, and Dubai Mall and while all of them have their highlights, I preferred the layout of the Dubai Mall and usually tried to stay long enough to see the fountains dance during each visit.

I highly recommend spending a day in the souks and floating down the Duabi Creek in an abra. It was one of the only days and experiences in Dubai that felt authentic. The gold souk, glimmering from floor

Gold Souk

to ceiling, and the spice souk, lined with aromatic and colorful spices that will flood your senses, are on one side of the Dubai Creek and the garment souk, with its tapestries, pashminas, and souvenirs, is on the other. The easiest way to get across is by water taxi, or abra, which is a traditional boat made of wood with a bench seat running down the center of it. It only costs about one durham to cross, however, for

Abras on the Dubai Creek

about $20 to $25 (feel free to negotiate), you can get a 60-90 minute tour of the Dubai Creek, which is a relaxing way to spend the afternoon and is a welcome break between bustling souks and haggling with vendors. In the souks, everything is negotiable, so I’d recommend starting at 30% of the quoted rate and meeting somewhere around 50 to 60% of the initial request. Everyone loses face if you acquiesce too quickly or remain too stubborn.

Pausing to watch the sunset in the middle of my Dune Buggy Safari

One of the other highlights during my stay was a desert dune buggy safari. There are many tour companies that offer this excursion or a variation of it, so you can find one just by asking your hotel concierge. I did an evening safari departing around 4pm. It takes nearly an hour to pick up the rest of your group and get out to the desert. By the time you are in the dune buggy and gliding across the sand, it is almost sunset and it is gorgeous. The sun radiates over the golden silt and casts shadows on the dunes making for a fun and adventurous ride. Warning: don’t wear clothing or shoes that you like too much because you will have sand everywhere by the time that you are done. After the hour-long ride, most of the tours continue at a desert campsite where they will host a buffet

The infamous camel…

barbeque. It’s typically a walled site with low tables seated around a center stage. There will be belly dancing shows, outposts for getting henna tattoos, smoking shisha, or purchasing souvenirs. There are typically also a few camels available for camel rides. Second warning: careful getting on and off those camels! It’s not like getting on and off a horse. The camel will kneel down to let you on and do the same thing to let you off. Camels are quite tall, so if you’re not paying close attention when it kneels down to let you off, it’s a long way down and a much harder landing than you might expect. I can attest from experience!!

Exquisite veal fillet, vitelotte potato puree, broccolini and jus.

Finally, my last recommendations for Dubai are Friday or Saturday brunches. Remember that Friday and Saturday is the weekend so after an exciting evening out on the town, you can awake at the mid-morning hour and find lavish buffets with continuous pouring of libations where you can leisurely pass the day with friends. I also enjoyed a food and wine dinner pairing at the Dubai Creek Country Club, which was a five-course meal prepared by a guest

The Palace

chef from Italy that offered wines from the same region. My taste buds were in over-drive! High tea at the palace is also lovely, especially if you linger until sunset. There are no shortage of amazing restaurants and vistas to watch the sun set over the water. Dubai is a place where you can splurge very easily. They’ve built it all so that you would come, so go!!

I left my Dubai assignment with mixed emotion because while I missed seeing green grass and some of the routines and familiarities of home, the work assignment was a fantastic learning experience.

Now, after visiting friends and family in London, South Carolina, and Los Angeles, and recharging my travel engine, I’m off to South East Asia with only my backpack and an open mind.

Revelling in gratitude for all of your wonderful support.

My mind holds no more plans, only dreams, because life never goes as planned, but dreams keep me motivated.

My thoughts grow in appreciation of the small gestures, kindheartedness, and generosity of others.

My day-to-day physical belongings fit into one suitcase or backpack and I like it that way.

My heart has learned to love in more ways than I ever thought possible.

My belief in the power of positive thought is unshakeable.

My trust in the good of humankind remains firm.

My soul floats in a pool of gratitude and it’s buoyancy makes even the difficult moments manageable because I know they will teach me resilience, determination and strength.

My desire to give back to a world that has given so much to me overwhelms me.

New Year’s Eve used to be a significant event in my calendar, the date marking the finish line of another year. I would take stock, count up the accomplishments and failures, resolve to do better, and make a list that would define the start of the next day. The trouble was that I rarely consulted that list after writing it and my intentions were often lulled to sleep by the ensuing monotony of my daily routine and general neglect. For years, the pattern was what I felt was one good year followed by a bad year. And it was only a bad year because I allowed a difficult event to define the entire year. I had resigned myself to believing that’s just how things were going to go… as if I had no control of my own destiny.

There was no horrific rock bottom that led to an awakening, just dozens of small paper cuts that kept nagging at my flesh… an overwhelming urge to shake things up like I had never done before… a moment of courage to etch a decision in stone and commit myself to it.  Here it is… the start of a new year, and for the first time in maybe a decade, I don’t feel the need to sum up the entire year and label it. Now, I take notice day by day. I relish the good moments and let the bad ones go. I have seen and experienced more in the past year than possibly any other year of my life, all of it character defining. I don’t have the words to express my gratitude for all those who have been there along the way, but I do want to use this post as a testament to your love, kindness, and generosity. Evidence of our ability to change not only our own world but that of other’s in the process.

So, whether you were the one to pick me up off your kitchen floor after I passed out from traveling 20 hours and catching the flu… show me kindness, offer travel tips, share your company with me on the road, or befriend me in a new city, I’m infinitely grateful. Whether you were the one to sit by my hospital bed, put a roof over my head, allow me to couch surf because I no longer have an apartment in the States, or host a dinner to bring family together, you remain fondly in my heart. Whether you were the one to send me an overseas package with my favorite holiday foods at Christmas, show me support, send me messages, or offer encouragement for my current unorthodox lifestyle, I am touched by the sentiment and your thoughtfulness.

In the lyrics of Brandi Carlile, The Story:

All of these lines across my face, tell you the story of who I am

So many stories of where I’ve been

And how I got to where I am

Oh, but these stories don’t mean anything when you’ve got no one to tell them to…

It’s true, I was made for you

So maybe life isn’t quite as exciting as when I was searching for adventure daily, moving on to a new city every week, and meeting fellow travelers… but sometimes I need to stand still to reflect on what has happened and what I’m learning from it.  While out with colleagues the other evening, everyone kept asking me what it was like to live here versus other places I’ve been, and my mind has lingered on the question.  So, today, on UAE’s National Day, a celebration of its mere 43 years of nationalization from the British Protectorate Treaties, I’m sharing a little glimpse into a day in my life in Dubai.

Dubai sunrise from my bedroom window.

I wake to watch the sun rise every morning just outside the bedroom window of my hotel room.  Living in a hotel makes my life seem more transient than it actually is at the moment, but witnessing this perpetual view every morning offers me some permanence.  So I leave the curtains cracked a few inches… just open enough for me to squirm down to the center of my bed to see the sun ascend from the desert floor in a pink, orange and yellow ball of fire.  It’s beautiful.  And with the multitude of high-rise buildings here, I’m certain I’m not the only one with a view of this amazing spectacle.

After getting ready for work, I make some breakfast before leaving.  I eat it sitting on my living room window ledge.  I’ve never lived this high up and although I joke about all of the crazy skyscrapers here, I get it.  Living above the world below is peaceful and safe.  It’s the opposite of how I normally live – in the center of it all, involved, with energy and interactions pulling me in all directions.  In my 28th floor apartment, I can sit, disembodied, and watch the world come alive.  The people and the cars below look like miniature figurines.   I can see half of my route to work from my living room window, so I watch the traffic and plot my course.  I’m borrowing this phrase from a dear friend, but it allows me to get my mind right before I join the world below.

On the way to work, I listen to the radio, purely to see what will be newsworthy on the various stations.  There are so many different ex-pat groups of people here, that when I turn on the radio, I can find radio hosts with Arabic, English, Australian, Russian, and Spanish accents among others.  I’ve never lived anywhere with more diversity.  One of the stations has a trivia game in the morning and I always learn something new from it… the capital of Yemen, or the name of the current Secretary General of the United Nations, or which Sheikh currently rules Sharjah, one of the nearby Emirates.  It makes me realize how un-cultured I am, despite how much I’ve traveled this past year.  It motivates me to continue seeking knowledge.  The radio and the music provide the entertainment and engagement that I can’t seem to find in the passing neighborhoods or streets that all look the same.  As opposed to Los Angeles, where I lived for the past 15 years and where I could observe the subtle character changes from neighborhood to neighborhood, Dubai all looks the same to me – concrete, steel, construction.  The architecture itself is both distinctive and random, but the streets and facades are devoid of distinctive qualities.  It’s the tops of the buildings that differentiate neighborhoods for me.  Never mind street names, or highway signs, you’ll find me staring at the sky to figure out which way I need to turn.

When I arrive at the office, I go to the elevator bay that will take me to my floor.  I work on the 43rd floor of a 48-story building so the elevators are broken down into different bays to keep the flow of traffic moving.  This is similar to the corporate offices where I’ve worked in Los Angeles, but it’s a different experience here.  First of all, the elevators are high-speed, which means that when I ascend to the 43rd floor in something like 30 seconds, my ears pop, every time.  Second, I always feel like I’m in a United Nations commercial – silently staring at all of the other faces, which could be from Pakistan, India, Philippines, Egypt, Iran, the UK, Scotland, South Africa… you name it.  These are just the people I can think of on the same floor as me.  Some days I have to pinch my arm to remind myself that it’s real and I’m here.  All of these people co-exist peacefully in the same workplace, the same city.  They manage to collaborate and communicate effectively enough to ensure the functioning of a profitable business.  It’s also one of the safest cities I’ve ever visited.  This diverse interaction feels hopeful… progressive… enlightened.  There’s no historical atrocities or maladies residing in  people’s minds or the city’s archives.  This is vastly different from my experience earlier this year in South Africa, where the memories of atrocities laid like speed bumps in people’s psyche and had folks stumbling down almost every avenue.

As the day continues, work is work.  No matter how much my responsibilities vary from assignment to assignment, I’m a recruiter and every business wants the same thing: to be able to attract and hire the most talented professionals in the industry in the most efficient and effective manner possible.  Each country may have a slightly different way of viewing or managing the work and its associated challenges, but the underlying fundamentals are the same.  The most taxing part of business here in the Middle East is not actually recruitment but getting visas for the people we want to recruit.  I won’t bore you with the details.

48 story U-bora Tower, where my office is located. Ninety flights of stairs is a long way down.

Every now and then, we’re given some additional trials like internet connectivity issues or a fire drill.  Low and behold, in my short 6 weeks, I’ve already had the opportunity to experience a fire drill, which is probably one of the only disadvantages of working in a skyscraper.  With double sets of stairs between floors and a few parking levels before getting to ground level, there are 90 sets of stairs that I had to descend this past week for our hour-long emergency exercise.  This test literally made me want to store a parachute under my desk and the interruption kept me working long past standard hours.

Marriott Marquis, The Lounge. Tallest hotel in the world.

After a long day like that one, drinks still tend to be my default solution, however, visiting a bar almost always means seeking the most conveniently located hotel, the only places that are typically licensed to serve alcohol.  And with a zero tolerance policy for drinking and driving, as in getting thrown in jail or kicked out of the country, drinks after work often means leaving my car at the hotel and taking a taxi home.  Then taking a taxi back to the hotel in the morning to retrieve my car and go to work.  If you read my prior post, Living in a Concrete Jungle, you now understand why I am very happy to have absconded with some alcohol during my discrete liquor store run to be able to enjoy a glass of wine at home.

Evening time is often filled with making a simple dinner in my basic kitchenette, which offers a stovetop, but no oven, and then unwinding by Skyping with a friend (FaceTime is banned here), going to the gym, or watching a movie.  The TV has more than 80 stations, but only 6 of them are English-speaking, and once again, I’ve never seen television programs in so many different languages.  The funniest thing about television for me is the movies they show and what they cut out of them.  Local broadcasting companies are obligated to honor Sharia Laws, or the moral or religious codes of UAE, so they bleep out profane language and cut out any french kissing or sex scenes.  The other day, I was watching “Friends with Benefits”, and for any of you who have seen this movie, you can imagine how misleading and ineffective the plot would be if all of the kissing and sex scenes are cut.  The movie is little more than half as long as it would normally be and barely makes sense.  It puzzles me why they would choose to broadcast it given the necessary edits.  I just have to chuckle.  No disrespect to a very honorable religion, but I’d choose to be a heathen any day of the week and twice on Sundays (or Fridays as would be apropos here).

Weekends are filled with the usual chores – laundry, grocery shopping, organizing, and maybe a hair, nail, or massage appointment, which have all proven to be interesting experiences, or unfortunate ones, as is the case with my latest hair color.

View from along the Dubai Creek

I also try to reserve one of my weekend days to try something new – this is quickly becoming not only a habit but a lifelong lesson.  If there’s one thing that I have realized over the past 5-years, it’s that stagnation is like quicksand and it will rapidly submerge you until you can’t move or breathe.  So, no matter how little energy or motivation I have for exploration, I try to do something I’ve never done or go someplace I’ve never been.  It’s quite literally mind-altering much like the view in the picture I’ve attached. There will be more to come on the details of my excursions in another post.

As you can read, my life isn’t all that different from yours although my perspective may be thanks to the leap that I decided to take a little over a year ago.  While I think travel or living and working in foreign lands is riveting and exciting, you may not, but I hope that my travel inspires you to break your daily routine, try something new, and pursue your dreams to get the perspective that you need in your life.

Still revelling in gratitude.

In case, like me, you don’t know the answers to the morning radio trivia questions, they are respectively: Sana’a, Ban Ki-moon of South Korea, and Sheikh Sultan III bin Mohammed Al-Qasimi

I recently accepted a 3-month work assignment in Dubai, one of the seven Emirates of the United Arab Emirates, after my visit to the States, detailed in my last post, Because I Missed Home. So here I am in a strange new land… one that was never on my list to visit. I don’t have an agenda of things that I want to see or do. I don’t even know what there is to see or do in the vast, open desert. So, let the adventure begin…

As I flew into the Dubai International airport, I looked out the plane window to see miles and miles of sand dunes. Then, as if someone had taken a tiny model of a metropolis and set it on the scene, there was the city. I arrived on a Friday, late in the afternoon, and was greeted warmly as I stepped off the plane. As a corporate guest in Dubai, my company extended Marhaba service for me. Marhaba means “welcome” in Arabic, is inspired by legendary Arabic hospitality, and means that I had a friendly guide to walk me through the airport, retrieve my luggage and escort me through immigration. My guide then ushered me into a chauffeured car and I was whisked through a still quiet and solemn city because Friday is respected as a day of prayer and rest until sundown. When I arrived at my hotel, I was again afforded royal service with doors held open, someone to assist with my luggage, warm greetings at reception, refreshments, and probably just about anything else I would have requested… all with a “yes, Madam” and a smile. I must say that I much prefer Madam to Ma’am, as is often used in the US. It seems much more refined.

Sunrise just outside my hotel

I was scheduled to stay in a hotel for two weeks until I could find a short term, furnished apartment, so I spent the rest of that day unpacking, ordering room service and settling in. It wasn’t long before it was dark outside, and when I looked out my hotel room window, all I saw was a city transformed into twinkling lights. The next morning, I awoke at 4:30am, my internal clock completely out of whack, and laid in bed staring out the window until the sun started to rise. As soon, as the light of day reared its beautiful rays, I ventured out for an exploratory stroll around the neighborhood. My hotel was directly across from the Dubai Mall, just down the street from the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, and a few blocks

The Burj Khalifa

away from Downtown. The first thing that I noticed was construction. Around every corner, there were construction cranes, orange cones, mounds of dirt, and detour signs. I laughed out loud, as my brain made inadvertent associations to my life path and I thought, “Detour, huh, seems about right.”

As I continued to walk, it seemed as though the buildings were springing up through the desert floor like weeds that had suddenly been doused with a warm, summer rain. I observed how tall, shiny and new all of the structures seemed to be. Dubai has had both significant upturns and downturns in its economy and most of the buildings weren’t constructed until

Construction project just across the street from my hotel.

the 80s and 90s, so all of it is new by most of the world’s standards. All 5-foot, 3-inches of me felt miniature as I peered up at skyscraper after skyscraper. I eventually arrived at a small park, which felt phony positioned next to all of the glimmering metal, planted palm-tree trunks wrapped in lights, and 4-lane wide concrete streets divided with a barrier between the other 4-lane street going in the opposite direction. After walking for about 45 minutes, at only 7am, it

My hotel, the Murooj Rotana, and backdrop of the city.

was almost 90 degrees (32 C) outside and I was feeling a little light-headed since I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I was also trying to be reverential of local customs and the modest dress code by covering my knees and my shoulders, so I was dressed in full-length pants and a t-shirt, which wasn’t helping. It was time to go back to the hotel for some breakfast and exploration of the pool. I spent the rest of that day relaxing and preparing my mind for the start of my workweek that happened to be the next day.

Due to the Islamic religion, the workweek here is from Sunday to Thursday. Initially, I thought this might feel strange, but oddly enough, since I’m immersed in it, the schedule makes little difference until I try to call home and wonder why no one is answering on what is still a workday on a US Friday morning. The rest of my first week was filled with introductions and business meetings, riding high-speed elevators up and down 40 floors, getting lost, driving in circles, and searching for a short-stay furnished apartment, which I quickly determined would be based on the location with the least amount of traffic on my route to the office. After a year of parachuting into new cities, I’ve developed my week-one routine. It mainly consists of asking a million questions to anyone and everyone in order to gather as much information in as little time as possible, never setting firm meeting times, so that I don’t get stressed about being late when I get lost, and then purposely getting lost and attempting new routes in my off time to learn my way around the city. I’ve actually surprised myself with how comfortably I’m able to do this now.

By week two, I realized that a large part of Dubai’s economy is reliant on tourism and the level of service here is better than just about anywhere else I’ve been in the world. There are plenty of 24-hour grocery stores, pharmacies, and restaurants and all of them will deliver. As a matter of fact, I could never leave my room and still have almost anything I wanted delivered, except alcohol, which is strictly regulated. At work, even if I never left my desk, someone would still come by and offer me water, tea or coffee. I’ve also now discovered that there isn’t one local or National employee that works in our office. Only about 8% of Dubai’s population of around 2 million are Emirati – the other 92 percent are expat and migrant workers. Men outnumber women by around 300 percent – an optimistic prospect for the female, single professional. The result is one of the most diverse work environments that I’ve ever experienced.

Week two continued with a trip to our regional corporate office in Abu Dhabi, the capital of UAE. It is about a 75-minute trip from Dubai, and although I had a chance to witness more enormous construction projects and landmarks, like Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, one of the world’s largest mosques, I didn’t get a chance to do much else that day. One of my colleagues was kind enough to drive, which was far more relaxing since drivers are quite aggressive and disorderly here. As we departed the office to return to Dubai, my colleague also showed me where I could find alcohol. We drove a few blocks, turned down a side street, pulled into a parking lot, and just when I thought we were going to stop, he drove through the parking spot into a dirt lot and pulled up next to what looked like a loading dock. There was an inconspicuous ramp leading to a door, and through the door, a dimly lit storeroom of shelves and shelves of alcohol, ranging from hard liquor to wine and champagne. This retailer was considered an off-license distributor. As I started to scour the shelves to see what kind of imports I could find, I noticed that my colleague had filled his basket in record time and was already paying. I quickly followed his lead, grabbed a few bottles of wine, and a bottle of Vodka, which I figured would last my entire stay, and then casually and swiftly paid and exited to the car, as if I were fleeing the scene of a crime. My colleague explained that it technically is illegal to buy, transport, or house alcohol unless you have a license, which he does, but you can only get a license with a resident visa, which was impossible for me since I was visiting with a mission visa for my assignment. So it was best if I didn’t linger long enough for anyone to ask questions. The rebellious teenager deep inside me flurried with glee as we drove off in a trail of dust from the lot. It was silly, but I just pulled off my first scam in UAE. Living in a land that is so foreign, and conservative, in relation to how I have lived, I was certain there would be other scams to come. For the rest of the drive back to Dubai, I chatted with my colleague about other cultural abnormalities, and made mental notes of the places that I would want to come back and explore.

My apartment at the Emirates Grand Hotel

I rounded out the week by signing a lease for an Executive apartment in the Emirates Grand Hotel, which would be home for the rest of my stay. It is difficult to find short stay apartments here, as most places look for a one-year commitment, so a hotel was one of the only options. Not exactly “homey”, and again, far different from anything that I might have chosen anywhere else, it is a convenient location both in regard to my commute to work, and its proximity to places to see. So, it’s been an altogether highly productive first two weeks, and so far, it’s fascinating. I feel very much like an observer at the moment, as if standing at the zoo and watching the animals play. It’s delightful to anticipate what I might see next.

Revelling in gratitude for the opportunity to be a spectator of the world’s diversity… until next time. Be well.

I know, I know… this blog has grown to be my lifeline to friends and family and I’ve been derelict in my duties. I’ve realized that my life has been shaken and flipped upside down ever since July and I’ve been a little off balance. When I embarked upon my travel year, it was with a plan… a flexible one, sure, but a plan. And even when I adjusted that plan for a work assignment in South Africa, I had a direction. It’s hard to predict how choices will completely alter your course, but that’s what the decision to go to South Africa did for me. And getting sick changed the course again. So, allow me catch everyone up.

After finishing my assignment in South Africa, I went back to the States. I had been ill for the better part of July with tonsillitis and doctors in Johannesburg were recommending an immediate tonsillectomy, but I wanted to go back the US to see a doctor for a second opinion. When I really think about it though, I have to admit, I also wanted to go home. After being away for 11 months, the answer to everyone’s question, “why are you back”, is I missed it… that feeling of home. I arrived in Los Angeles on a gloriously sunny Wednesday afternoon, and that feeling of familiar washed over me like a warm shower. I was so happy and comforted to see familiar sites, deal with familiar problems, and know how to handle all of them. I was instantly at ease.

I went to the doctor, conveyed my story and past symptoms, and he simply gave me an emergency prescription to carry on the road and said I’d be crazy to have surgery after one incident.  Again, I was relieved.  Surgery was complicated for numerous reasons – no permanent address, no insurance, and two weeks of down time. So, no surgery was music to my ears and by that point, I was feeling almost completely back to my normal self anyway.

Friday night happy hour… the best way to end the week.

Concert at Grand Park, Downtown Los Angeles

Malibu Surf Riders Beach

I spent the next three weeks in Los Angeles enjoying all of the things that I said I didn’t miss when I was away and it was all the therapy that I needed. Time with friends…  sharing stories, laughing until I cried, relishing warm summer nights, visiting my favorite spots, and soaking up some sanity. I went from city to sand to mountains and watched every day melt into sunset.

I’ve been practicing the art of non-attachment this past year – seeing new sites every day, moving just about every week, meeting new people, relishing every moment, learning how to let go and say goodbye.  Johannesburg gave me an opportunity to settle in and build some relationships but it still always felt temporary.  Coming back to LA and drinking (more like gulping) “normalcy” tonic again, well, it was tempting to fall off the wagon and re-attach. It was all waiting for me – work opportunities, apartment options, workouts, networking circles – all of the things I thought might not be there if I ignored them for a year. I had this nagging feeling though… that if I settled in and fell right back into my old routine, it would be like my yearlong journey was for nothing. I felt like it could be forgotten so quickly and easily. Despite so many coaxing me to stay, there was a little voice in the back of my head cooing, “you’re not done yet, there’s more”.

Thank you to all of the friends who listened to my accounts, my speculations, and my ponderings, and offered their best interpretation of and response to the foreign language that I was speaking.  Unlike the first time, I know that I left you all without any conclusive decision, direction, or timeframe.  It certainly wasn’t intentional… it was just my current state of affairs.

Edisto Memorial Gardens, Orangeburg, South Carolina (near Downtown)

Thai Orchid Restaurant in Orangeburg, South Carolina (go eat there so they stay open! It’s delicious)

Tuesday afternoon, local Orangeburg area card club (Canasta is the game)

Scenery along my drive just outside Easton, Pennsylvania

Just approaching NYC on a gloomy afternoon

Dinner on the Upper East Side with these two powerhouse ladies who manage to thrive in NYC.

After leaving Los Angeles, the next stop on the homeland visiting tour was Orangeburg, SC. It is a small town, barely a blip on the map, and I didn’t grow up there, so I truly only go to visit my biggest supporters, my parents.  Over the past 15 years, I often saw this little town through my parent’s eyes and I settled into their routine. I went where they went and I met the people that they knew. This time, however, with a completely open agenda, I ventured out on my own a few times and stumbled upon things I never would have known where there. I found a great, little Yoga studio, which had an excellent instructor and a Zen, stylish class setting.  I drove through parts of town that I hadn’t seen.  I got my Dad to join me on a scenic river walk.

My Dad retired this past year while I was away, so my parents seemed to have a greater sense of adventure too.  We all went to Congaree National Park for an afternoon and strolled through the Cypress trees and wild pigs. My parents were even a little adventurous with food and eager to tell me about a new Thai restaurant that recently opened, run by a family who came directly from Northern Thailand. It was like finding a hidden gem – a paradoxical mystery – the exterior didn’t match the interior at all and the food was remarkably authentic. I have no idea how they found all of their ingredients.  I’m also a regular sub for the card club now, which is a fun group of ladies. Finally, my sister lives nearby in Charleston, so we made a trip or two into the city to visit with her and her family.

While the newfound exploration and home cooking fed my soul, upcoming work and travel plans unfolded and ultimately made me decide to add a North Eastern road trip to my tour. I missed my standard holiday season trip to Pennsylvania to visit family last year and it was now looking like I was going to miss it this year too. Autumn is the perfect time of year for long drives along winding, colorful, tree lined highways, so off I went. The ten-hour drive gave me the quiet time that I relish for reflection. North Carolina, Virginia, Pennsylvania, New York – I popped around from town to town, household to household, catching up, sharing dinners, visiting family and old friends, meeting new babies, and trying to give undivided attention to loved ones who I see far to infrequently. My answer to “what comes next” changed little by little with every conversation and every day that passed. Emails and phone calls from overseas trickled in to me. There is something about the solitude of the drive and the focus on the road ahead that calms my swirling thoughts. A plan started to take shape.   I lingered in New York City amidst friends and the endless hum of energy until the plan was clear and then, I went straight back to South Carolina, to my parent’s house to prepare.  In less than a week, I would be back on a plane to a land that has never been on my travel list… I never can predict where the road will lead me.

On October 9^th, I left for a 3-month work assignment in Dubai.  Revelling in gratitude for an opportunity for continued adventure and discovery.  More stories soon to come.

You might be thinking, why in the world do I need an escape when I’m already in Johannesburg, a long way from home.  Well, if you’ve read my post, Caught in the fray, then you know that this past month has been a roller coaster ride of battling illness, finishing up work, and trying to wrap my mind around leaving a community to whom I’ve grown quite fond.  You might also recall that my initial travel plan was to follow the summer and that changed when I agreed to take this assignment in Johannesburg during their winter.  So, I’ve been craving the sand, beach, and sun for nearly 5 months and since I now have to go back to the States for a tonsillectomy, I couldn’t resist a little getaway to Phuket to get a sneak peak of the travel that I hope to complete in the near future.

Due to the hustle and bustle of work, I allowed someone else to plan this getaway, a highly recommended travel advisor.  This trip was also far different from the rest of my travel because I had only one week, specifically wanted a little pampering since it was the week of my birthday, and for the first time, wasn’t traveling solo.  You see, I’ve met an amazing man here in Johannesburg, and when I was recovering from my first bought of tonsillitis, I thought a parting trip would be a great way to create fun memories and an upbeat goodbye.

We flew from OR Tambo to Bankgkok International to Phuket International. This is Bangkok.

I was initially supposed to wrap up my assignment by July 25th, so my thought was to fly to Phuket and then travel straight on to Los Angeles.  Unfortunately, illness persisted, so by my second bought of tonsillitis, I realized I was going to have to extend my work assignment to finish everything, and this trip would just need to be “a great escape”.   So, after more visits to the doctor, pleading for permission to travel and medicine to take on the road, and promising to get a ton of rest, we boarded our plane.

Amari Resort – seaside rooms and pool

Phuket is about an 11 hour flight from Johannesburg, so when we arrived at the Amari Resort on Sunday morning, we checked into our seaside hotel, relaxed into our plush, ocean facing room, and let all the stress of the past month wash away with the sound of the crashing waves.  Since I was still under the weather for the first few days, we took short trips to Patong Beach, Bangla Road, and the local market, but mostly enjoyed the resort accommodations which included beautiful swimming pools, a spa, and plenty of shaded napping spots.  It was just what I needed…

Phuket Town Market – lots of fresh fish and live turtles

Now, this type of travel – sheltered in a resort community and doing everything with a partner – made me realize that I wasn’t getting a true experience of the culture, so I signed up for one solo day, a Thai cooking class.  Thai is my favorite food and I couldn’t resist learning how to make some of it for myself.  And since my nocturnal companion enjoys his restful mornings, he was happy to send me off on my own at 7:30am.  This day of cooking started with a trip to Phuket Town

Waida, one of our chefs, explaining the food and spices at the Phuket Town Market.

Market, which opens at 3:30am for all of the local restaurants to buy their fresh ingredients for the day.  When our group of 8 arrived just before 9am, it was still teaming with local patrons, well stocked with delicious foods, and drawing us in with it’s vibrant colors and arouma.  Waida, one of our chefs for the day, divided our group into two groups of four and then took my group of four through the market to teach us about local Thai foods and the ingredients that we would need for

Curry spices – Phuket Town Market

the day.  As she showed us what things were called, what they looked like and how they were used, she also added a gastronomy lesson of each food’s nutritional value and what affect it might have on our body or when combined with other ingredients.  It was a fantastic education and as we walked along with Waida, she handed us ingredients to taste.  We started by tasting fresh donuts dipped in a green coconut type cream, an unexpectedly delicious combination.  Then we tasted a Rose Apple (champoo), that is very common in Thailand and tastes like a cross between an apple and a pear.  Next was a Longan (lamyai) or “dragon eyes”, named because of it’s resemblance to an eyeball when it is shelled.  It is translucent in color, sweet in flavor, and closely allied to lychee.  We then peeled back a bamboo shoot to taste the sticky rice that had been prepared inside it and were off to learn how both coconut milk and coconut cream were made.  It was a delectable experience and the ingredients were so fresh, that I might be disappointed with all future Thai food that I eat outside of Thailand.

Phuket Thai Cookery School

After the market, we were off to Fisherman’s Village, where the cooking classes would be held in a seaside classroom, with elevated seating and an overhead mirror in the classroom, rows of counters and stoves for cooking stations, and large tables on a patio where we would all taste our dishes after they were prepared.  It was a warm, balmy day with lots of sunshine and we were all ready to dig in.  We put on our aprons, pulled out our

One of our chefs teaching us how to make Tom Kha Kai, chicken in coconut milk soup.

pencils, and got started.

The first dish was Tom Kha Kai, literally translated means “boiling galangal chicken”, which is actually chicken in coconut milk soup.  We watched as our chef expertly prepared her ingredients, then walked us through timing and cooking for one versus many.  Once we watched her complete the dish, we all tasted it and were then off to our own station to attempt to replicate her results.  I’ve got to tell

Me making Tom Kha Kai – prep work.

you I was very pleased with myself!  In restaurants back home, I often don’t eat Thai soups because they are so spicy, but fresh ingredients have a completely different spicy flavor and make a world of difference.  I was able to create a soup that I will enjoy over and over again.  The hard part will be trying to find the ingredients outside of Thailand because palm sugar is not easily replicated.  In all of our dishes that day, we would be using palm sugar, a kind of sugary paste, fresh coconut cream, some type of chili or chili sauce, and fish sauce.  The essence of most Thai dishes have the 4 S’s – sweet, sour, salty, and spicy, in varying degrees.

Our next dish was Pad Thai, a common dish with fried noodles and traditionally, prawns.  It varies in flavor from the north of Thailand to the south; the north

My Pad Thai

typically creating a fairly bland dish, and the south a much spicier one.  This dish has lots of ingredients so the preparation is key and often takes much longer than the cooking time.  My finished result is pictured to the left and although it looked beautiful, I think I need to work on perfecting the combination of flavors a bit within the cooking process.

The next dish was Som Tam or Papaya Salad, one of my favorites.  Waida was our teaching chef for this dish and she has lived outside of Thailand in Australia for about 3 years so she fully understands the challenges of trying to find the same Thai ingredients that make these dishes so flavorful.  As she taught us how to prepare this salad, she offered numerous suggestions for substitutions and took pride not only in the right combination of ingredients and flavors, but also it’s presentation by cutting vegetables with various tools that added more surface to absorb the sauce and offered a prettier presentation.

Chef James and his tasty green curry.

Our last dish of the day was Kaeng Kiew Wan Kai, literally translated as Curry Green Sweet Chicken.  James was our teaching chef for this dish, and he was full of fun, flare, and fabulous, just like the dish itself.  Despite what I initially thought, a curry doesn’t cook for all that long, so the trick is bringing out all of the flavors of the ingredients in a relatively short time on the stove.  James also insisted that a curry is only going to taste good if you stir in

My green curry

circles, add lots of love, and literally cook with a smile on your face.  Preparation and the order that the ingredients are added is very specific so our group got a little help with those, but I was again very pleased with my finished dish.  We also had dessert that day, but it was the only dish that we didn’t prepare ourselves.  It was Khao Niew Mamuang, or Mango with Sticky Rice.  It takes time for the rice to absorb the sauce that makes it sticky so we watched the preparation of the sauce but left the rest to the professionals.  It too was delicious and just the right amount of sweet at the end of our buffet of dishes.

Throughout the day, I had the opportunity to talk with the rest of the group, 3 other couples from Brisbane who didn’t know one another, and a chef in training from Moscow.  Apparently, many Russians have been visiting Thailand and they go back to Moscow wanting to enjoy the same Thai food, so Michail was sent by his current restaurant owner to learn how to make Thai dishes to add to the menu.  Our teaching chefs also had interesting stories that they shared with us through the preparation of their dishes and then at the table while we enjoyed our creations.  This day was a gluttonous treat and the little bit of culture that I was craving on this getaway.

So, although I’m taking a little hiatus from travel, I’m grateful because the hiatus is going to give me the opportunity to travel home with palm sugar and green curry powder, ingredients straight from Thailand so that I can treat my hosts with my newfound Thai cooking skills.

Sunset over Kata Bay

Our final days in Thailand were filled with other fun experiences, like a Sea Canoe excursion to Phang Nga Bay, relaxing Thai massages, and a trip to Kata Beach.  Thailand will remain on my list of travel destinations for broader cultural exploration.  Still revelling in gratitude for my sneak peak.

Many thanks to Megan Fineberg, Managing Director at Travel Experience Meadowridge, who made all the arrangements for flight and accommodation.

Contact: megan@constantiabergtravel.co.za and +27 21 715 2850.

My Cooking Experience was courtesy of Phuket Thai Cookery School.  Our Sea Canoe excursion was courtesy of Sea Canoe.

Please note, all of the opinions in this article are my own.  I included the contact information for our Travel Agent and excursions solely because some of my blog community have requested specific information.  

One of my favorite things about traveling is the opportunity to experience other cultures, and then share those experiences with you, my small community around the world, in an attempt to educate and enlighten.  I rely heavily on my community for learning, sharing, challenging one another, and unconditional support.  I’m writing today because it’s an important day in South Africa – Women’s Day – and I’ve been moved by the talks, celebrations, dedication, and commitment to honor this day by the strong women around me.

Today commemorates the national march in 1956 of women who petitioned against the “pass laws” that required all South Africans defined by the government as “black” to carry a pass, or an internal passport that stipulated where they could live, work, and travel.  These passes reinforced segregation, oppression, and inequality.  On August 9th, 50,000 women gathered to protest against the pass laws by marching to the Prime Minister’s office, leaving signed petitions on the doorstep, standing for 30 minutes in silence with their children wrapped on their backs, and then singing a protest song.  The song was composed in honor of the occasion and it’s message was, “now you have touched the women, you have struck a rock”.  In the more than 50 years that have passed since that day, the song and the message, which has evolved into it’s current incarnation, lives in the hearts of many.

To honor the day, our workplace held a celebration that included a networking lunch, 2 speakers, and distribution of reading material and tools to help the women in the company build strong community circles for the sake of sharing, learning, and support.  It instantly made me think of my circle and all of the strong women in it, who I am so honored to have in my life.

A chance to meet Justice Theron after the event.

One of our talks during the lunch hour came from Justice Leona Theron, who is a Fulbright Scholar with a Masters of Law degree from Georgetown University.  She grew up poor in the Eastern Cape, rose above her circumstances and went on to be appointed as a judge at age 33.  She is also the mother of 4, and has managed to balance work and family life in superhuman ways.  She spoke about the challenges in society, the glass ceiling, and the guilt that women often feel for wanting to have successful careers which may mean less time with their children.  I have often witnessed the women I know experience this same guilt when they’re late for their child’s school play, or for picking them up from sports practice or for encouraging them to watch TV in the evening because they just need 20 minutes of quiet to enjoy a glass of wine.  Justice Theron echoed what I witness all the time, women often have to do it all.  She went on to talk about the corporate world and the need for more than just accommodation or inclusion… she talked about the need for total redesign.  Do we as a society want to force our women to be mothers OR corporate professionals? Or can we design a world where they can be both?  Do you view childbirth as an interruption of a woman’s career or can you bring yourself to recognize it as an augmentation of life skills, and a cultivation of tolerance, patience, and determination?  Skills that are inherently necessary in the workplace.  Today is a day to raise awareness, to  provoke thought, to challenge the norm, and to honor the strong mothers, sisters, daughters… the women in your life.

Ladies, as one of my strong South African mentors says, “Fly your own plane, stay on your flight path, and monitor your radar”.  Don’t let the world throw you off course.

And remember, you are as strong as a rock.  My heart is revelling in gratitude for all the women in my world.