I left B_A_N_G_k_O_k_ five [ six_? seven_?] days ago & have been staying with friends just north of the Malaysian border.
A breath of fresh air... late night conversations... make-up free & camera-free existence... it's all quite therapeutic actually. No photos, no blogging, just a few good [un_documented ] days... exactly what I needed.
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In Bangkok. Staying at my friends' (lovely) hotel.
My suite... loving the old world charm of this hotel. Reminds me of "The Man Who Would Be King", I have no idea why.
Webcam. Just wanted to say 'hi". So hi.
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(No idea when this post will find its way to my blog -- I seem to be having connection issues.)
(And sorry about the quality. Self-timers apparently have no souls.)
Like I said, this whole trip-thing is bittersweet at best.
Much more bitter than sweet, but it needs to be done.
About to board the red eye to Qatar (via DC).
Looks like my kind of place. I bet they have amazing falafel. Except I heard in some Muslim cultures widows are considered bad luck -- is that true? Well, be that as it may, all I have is a layover in Doha so no need to panic. I'll consider myself lucky if I can score a falafel.
All right, ladies and gentlemen, Oceanic 815 is now boarding... ...see you on the other side.
(Or was it "see you in another life"? The thing Desmond used to say?)
Bon Voyage.
Agnes
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Doesn't Spring just make you feel like you're waking up to a whole new world? I am too ecstatic for words, so all I am going to say is I am on a mission to locate my favorite handbag, the one I bought at Bloom in Bangkok a year and a half ago. That bag alone makes me feel so happy and summery. And fresh. And new. And travely.
Not wearing it very often is my artificial effort to preserve its exclusiveness -- mortal nonsense, I know.
I'd love to be in Bangkok right now, I tell you.... sipping my coffee at some Thai joint with Geoff. Then again, Spring is here and it's pretty awesome here too. And I am sure some woman in Bangkok is daydreaming about being in Florida right now, so there, Agnes, stop complaining, get off your computer and go get yourself some Spring air.
{This is not mine, but it's very similar. I have to find mine before I can photograph it. Actually, wait, I posted pictures of it... here. This one, as well as their logo is from Bloom's website -- totally worth checking out.}
Enjoy the weather, everyone -- bye for now.
Agnes
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Thanks to a last minute cancellation of my morning appointment, I ended up catching the end of the sun rise on the beach, in the pouring rain, in the company of my favorite New Orleans brew.
Well, sun rises are never not pretty, and this dark and grey morning was so breathtakingly beautiful, that I didn't even mind my favorite white pants from Bangkok being ruined in the process of me sitting in the wet sand. In fact, I was almost happy for them not having lived their life in vain, dying a slow death in my closet, but instead got to experience magical stuff like colorless sun rise, rain, and things of that sort. Then I remembered those fancy candles my mom had that we were never allowed to light because she was saving them for some special occasion in life, and then I also remembered my dad and I burning those candles down to the last of the wick the day my mom died. And I remember deciding how I was never going to waste a day of my life waiting for special moments but would make every moment count instead.
Then of course as I got home from the beach, my first order of business was rushing my white pants into the washing machine in record time, frantically saturating them in a triple dosage of laundry detergent, hectically trying to revive them with the determination of an ER doctor with the defibrillator paddles in his hands.
And for a minute there, during this less-than-special moment up in my laundry room, I couldn't help but wonder whether unfulfilled destinies and saving candles for special occasions is what keeps our dreams alive. Then I decided that sun rises make me way too philosophical and that saving my pants was more important than solving all the riddles of the universe in one day.
Until next time.
Agnes
*More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones. -- Truman Capote
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-- Fernando Pessoa
I sometimes think people live much the way they travel. You know how some travel all organized, budgeted, every hotel and every ferry reserved well in advance. Others just drift, without ever really trying to get anywhere. Then there are some, who travel for others not for themselves: their neighbor went to this place, so now they have to go too, and they absolutely must blitz all museums and landmarks so that they can tell the neighbors they have seen it, done it, and hopefully even enjoyed it. They kind of already know what they will want to experience before they experience it.
I travel in a fairly similar fashion to how Geoff travels. In fact, we became best friends while traveling. When you travel with the same person for a long time and you're enjoying every minute of it and never want it to end -- you're friends. I think traveling together can make or break a friendship. Some say you don't know who your friends are till you need them, others say you don't know your friends till you lived with them -- I say you don't know a person until you have traveled with them. I am not ashamed to say that I have friends I avoid traveling with at all costs.
*
{Gall Face Hotel, Colombo Sri Lanka. Geoff and I practically lived there for two months.}
Nothing against it, it's just that Geoff and I aren't the kind of people who learn about life via museums, read travel guides or stick to the itinerary -- although we do always have an itinerary, taking us from one place to the next, but we're extremely flexible and open to any unforeseen opportunity that comes along.
We are rather untouristy and tend to blend in with the locals. We usually end up guest-teaching a couple of classes in some local school for fun, and hook up with local non-profits. We like to mix it up between luxury hotels and humble guest houses and we are OK with crashing at a local friend's place once in a while. We buy food from street vendors, eat at local joints but then we also dine at world class gourmet restaurants.
{my favorite humble little ginjoint in Bangkok}
When staying at fancy hotels, I get my hair washed and blow dried at the in-house parlor, but then I am OK with not even combing it until I stumble into a parlor again a week later, and meanwhile I quite happily make do with local hats and bandanas.
{Kandy, Sri Lanka}
{Laundry service somewhere in South-East Asia :-) Hobo asked me to post this.
Hobo's got a great Indian travel blog by the way.}
I enjoy flying first class (duh -- who doesn't!) but I also love being in tiny 20-seat planes and questionable jeeps in the middle of nowhere. I love looking at the skyline from my hotel window, just as much as I love the view of villages or the ocean or mountains or listening to the constant horn honking downtown Bangalore.
And that is how I like to live. I like to change things up, be flexible and not worry too much about how other people think I should I live. I love high-end luxury as much as I love Target or a charming little thrift-shop. The only thing I don't like is the level in-between: mediocrity. I like quality but I don't like having more than I need. Plus when something is too expensive you tend to be protective of it rather than truly enjoying it.
{To me, luxury is the quality and the class you generate into the banalities of life. It's not about folding all your kleenex into swans and incorporating the word "delightful" in every sentence -- but rather the human touch you impart into the things you collide with. That's my breakfast, by the way and to me it's luxurious :-)}
And this post is getting way out of control (can't help it, when I think of traveling, the fingers just start typing).
But never forget, if it's not comfortable, it isn't luxury. I think Coco Chanel said something to that effect.
Until next time.
Agnes
TITLE CREDIT: FERNANDO PESSOA -- THE TRAVELER IS THE JOURNEY
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(This post was inspired by Zhu)
It's a strange mixture of a deluxe cosmopolitan and a less lavish and more drifter-like feeling to simultaneously make you feel like you're always on foreign land and at the same time feel right at home on three different continents.
Five things that make me an Asian:
1. My dad is Asian and thusly there's this whole side of the pedigree that's Asian. Too bad I can't speak my Asian family's tongue and if you ever wondered whether it's possible not to learn your father's native tongue, I am living proof that it is. In his defense, he did try to teach me...
2. I am enamored of the East in a way that I cannot explain. Just BEING in the Orient makes me feel so content. Love Asian food, love rickshaws, love straw hats, love the crazy traffic, the insane bargaining over a dime, I love absolutely everything Asian. Moreover, I have an inexplicable love for the third world that keeps calling me back... and let's not forget Thai foot massage, Himalayan jasmine tea and Indian mango lasse!
3. Even though it wasn't until the tender age of 10 that I first set foot in Asia, it immediately resonated with me in that it was both noisy and quiet, fast and slow, tranquil and aggravating, abundantly rich and shockingly poor, pampering and disturbing all at the same time.
4. I am crazy about all the street food (though not big on curry), I miss being able to buy a cracked open coconut at the junction and drink it with a straw, and don't even get me started on fresh mango juice or freshly pressed sugarcane juice. I am a big advocate of the Asian beauty regimen. Wax legs instead of shaving, get eyebrows done the Asian way (threading, where a thread is used in place of tweezers to pluck any stray hair -- I know the Asian readers know exactly what I talking about but this method isn't well known here in the US or even in Europe, even though it's by far the best).
5. Asian bathrooms and I have had our differences, and I will be the first to admit that I am not a fan. I have however mastered a whole assortment of techniques that get me in and out of there safe and dry. I can't believe I am actually saying this, but I think that the "hole-in-the-ground" style public toilets do actually make more sense than the English ones. You know, from a hygiene point of view alone. Squat toilets are a perfect example of great theory meets poor execution.
Moi in Asia:
(the first one's in India and the second one I believe is in Pakistan)
Five things that make me European:
1. Was born in Europe. I can only speak a couple of European languages but I do get by in most EU countries. I am totally proud of this aspect of me.
2. I so LOVE Europe!!!! I miss the architecture, the life style, all the walking streets and cafes. I love the mixture of banality and glamour, the style and I adore small towns. You know, the current green movement? Like having your own grocery bags instead of the disposable plastic ones at the checkout counter? You know, back in Europe, when I was a young girl, we used wicker grocery baskets for shopping. Pretty woven baskets to carry half a loaf of fresh French bread, vegetables and cheese in.
We also had hot fresh bread every single day but Sunday, straight out of the bakery. It sounds so romantic and I guess it was.
3. European accents are so so so pretty! At least I think so. OK, my W's don't sound like V's and I am fluent in English, but I definitely pronounce the T in "dentist" "intersection" and "bounty"! I don't say toe-maah-toe but I'll say beet roots instead of beets. I don't call a pill a tablet, a cell phone a mobile, a condo a flat, an elevator a lift, but I can't help but stick a "please" at the end of my order in a restaurant -- as in "Could I have a cup of coffee please?".
4. The most obvious symptom indicating that underneath the surface I must be European is that I feel morbidly obese at my current 123 lbs. I simply don't know how to function in society as a less-than-100%-thin person. I am convinced that the day I start sporting a double chin will be the day people will stop bending over backwards and going out of their way to greet me when I enter a room. If I didn't have something bigger to worry about right now, I'd be totally freaking out over the 15 lbs I gained since last year.
5. Although I can't even remember the last time I picked up a pencil, as an (inactive) artist and illustrator I love that I can just set up shop on a walking street and people pay me to draw their portraits. I can draw with photographic accuracy.
Five things that make me an American:
1. This is the country I care to call my home, this is where I pay my taxes, this is where I have a Social Security number and the only place where I don't have to explain the purpose of my visit when my plane lands.
2. The only place on Earth, where, it doesn't feel like I am traveling.
3. Bathrooms! Although any architecture is closer to my heart than the wonders of the American construction world, it still only makes sense to me that bedrooms should come with attached bathrooms, that buildings should have central air (love the moodiness of European radiators, but those incredibly loud unreliable A/C boxes sticking out of every Asian window just aren't my cup of tea.) And in spite of all the lavatory skills I have flawlessly mastered along way, including adventurously "showering" from a bucket of ice cold water in the middle of rural Asia -- I have to admit that I love love love our big American bathrooms with showers and tubs and windows and and all the light bulbs and the fluffy floor mats and soft robes.
4. Driving is second nature to me. That being said, I would never, ever, not in a million years drive in Asia!!!! Especially in India! (I already have but we won't talk about that...)
5. In Asia, I feel American. In Europe, I feel American. In America however, I feel European and Asian. At heart, I am truly, equally all of them.
photo credits: Geoff (pictures of me), Gaiam (fountain), SPA travel+beauty+living (Bhutan photo), Malaysian Garden (Malaysian garden photo), She Helix (grocery basket photo), Starbucks Shared Planet (paper cup photo), Balki Blog (Indian street photo)
P.S.: If you're multi-cultured you're "tagged" {That's you, Nancy :-D}. Anyone who decides to do this tag, leave a link to your URL, I love reading stuff like this.
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It's not that I don't love all flowers, don't get me wrong, I do.
It's just that I have a special love affair with tropical flowers, namely Indian Jasmine (ah, the intoxicating smell), waxy Asian lilies and mostly, the queen of them all -- orchids.
I think this one might be my favorite Summer yet, in terms of places I have been. Yes, people, I am discovering how much I love my home...
When I look at our orchids I can't help but get flashbacks of the six or seven weeks I spent in Thailand last year. I absolutely loved every minute of it, in spite of all the tragedy that brought me there in the first place.
May, 2008 -- My friend John, who is also our handyman and thusly a semi-regular visitor to our home (Jamie, my cat used to think that John actually lived here), was here fixing our backdoor just a few days after one of the deadliest hurricanes of all time claimed hundreds of thousands, if not millions of lives in Myanmar. On the spur of the moment, John and I decided to fly down to Thailand and see if they needed volunteers. Lucky was contemplating coming along too, but he couldn't make it. Plus it's not like we had any concrete ideas of what we would end up doing down there, especially considering that the Myanmar government was rejecting all foreign aid and visas. Well, anyway, within days of our arrival, we made friends with some awesome people down in Bangkok. I'll never forget these people, ever, however motley a crew we were, we were such a great little group of fast friends.
A couple of days after the Myanmar Embassy was set on fire, a lovely old lady took me out of Bangkok to introduce me to some Thai big shots at the Ministry of Health.
Never have I ever seen as many orchids in my entire life as I did on the way to the Ministry... ah, you wouldn't believe it, they were growing everywhere like weeds. It was out of this world, I tell you.
I can't look at an orchid now and not think of Thailand. You see, I have seen the most beautiful orchids before, in Malaysia, in Singapore, growing on trees, but on that trip, in Thailand, orchids were the only constant factor in the ever changing scenery... See, one minute you're talking to a Burmese guy who's worried that his family might have died in the hurricane and there's not a thing in the whole wide world he can do, the next minute you're having tea with high powered individuals in the Ministry, surrounded by people who have the power and influence to do anything and beyond. One minute you're getting your visa denied because the Embassy is in flames, right in front of your eyes, the next minute you're sitting in a five star hotel's state-of-the-art restaurant in a meeting with a non-profit who luckily obtained visas from before the hurricane. One minute, in some hush-hush meeting you're being shown underground photographs of dead bodies of children rotting in the cholera infected waters down in the Delta, the next minute you're in your room being spoiled by exotic food the staff sent up for you as they noticed you hadn't eaten all day. And through all of that, orchids everywhere. On every plate your food is served on, by every soap dish in every bathroom you use, growing wild on every porch you pass and behind the left ear of the street vendor outside my hotel where I stop and buy fresh coconut water.
And now, a year later, while sipping my morning coffee, half mindedly listening to the thunder I notice that wherever I look I see our breathtakingly beautiful orchids blossoming in this rainy summertime we've got here.
What's not to like?
My 'vanda' orchids growing "naked" (not in pots, just hanging) allowing the roots to dangle naturally as they would in the forest canopy. (After the rain)
I really need to find my real camera soon as these iPhone photos don't do justice to these beauties I tell you.
No need to throw away the spent flowers, they look great on the breakfast table...
Yes, I grow plants inside my breakfast table, underneath the glass top.
It beats any table cloth I tell you! I first saw it done in India many years ago.
OK, I'd better stop here. I can talk a marathon about Thailand and orchids...
Agnes
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Bangkok. Downtown Bangkok. If you've ever been
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