Chaing Mai bummin

dinosaur, perhaps? (yes... this is a real animal)
gibbon- crazy cool
panda bear- love him
my delicious prawns... I didn't like them though
chef girl or-ang
Real quick... what we've actually been up to, beside me sitting on the computer planning stuff. I took a Thai cooking course one day, while Steve stayed back and did some writing. It was excellent. I got to wear an apron, I got burnt by hot grease, I ate some delicious food, I ate some spicy food, I received a cook book. They even had tofu for me to substitute the chicken and pork.
I took a 2 hour yoga class that twisted my body into formations I never thought possible. I did headstands and handstands, I sweated a lot.
Steve and I both went to a meditation yoga class, also 2 hours.... oh geeze, oh man. We sat and did different breathing exercises for the entire time. It was interesting, but the 2 hours spent playing with your nostrils and holding your breath could probably be used a bit more productively.
We went to the zoo and saw lots of cute and cuddly animals. We drank about 74 bottles of water, it was hot. We ate ice cream for lunch.
We are now spending one more day in Chaing Mai. Our friend from Australia will get here tomorrow so we will hang out with her, which equals vodka, dancing, and karaoke. After that, we are off to Laos.

yoga broke my heart

As many of you know, the past few weeks there has been a lot of talk of me going to India for a yoga program that I got into. Well... it is not going to happen due to, might I say, dumb people. I had been inquiring about this program for about the last 3 weeks or so. I had filled out my application, got accepted, received news letters, and other emails informing me on what the program would be like, how much it cost, where I was supposed to fly into, etc. I had written at least 17 emails, setting everything up. I wrote 3 emails telling the woman, whom I had been conversing with, that I was ready to pay whenever (you had to pay 25% of the fee in order to hold your place). The woman emailed me back telling me that she had put me on the enrolled list and that she would send me what I needed to do the money transfer in the morning. Five days later, nothing, so I called via skype. The man said that I was not on the enrolled list because I hadn't paid and now there was a wait for the program, the program that I had signed up for practically before it was even posted. I repeatedly told him that I had been told that I was enrolled by "X" she is the one that has been emailing me. He said he'd talk to her to try and straighten things out. A few hours later I received another email from "X" saying that she wasn't sure I was going to do the program and that they could put me on the wait list.
This email was a blow. I burst into tears like I had just recieved an email stating that my boyfriend was breaking up with me. I don't think I have ever been so excited and put so much effort into doing something in my entire life. I was going to go to India to study yoga, the one thing, besides people and animals, that I love. I was ready to go. I was going to stay in Chaing Mai, Thailand for about 2 weeks by myself, take yoga classes, swim, shop, and hangout until my program, when I then would fly to Delhi. I had bought an extra long sleeve shirt for the mountains, I was in search of a yoga mat, and pants. I was literally ready for take off. Steve was ready to head to Laos tomorrow and continue his travels. We went and had a nice dinner, thinking that we wouldn't see eachother for a month and a half. Although, of course, I would miss steve, I was so excited to be on my own. I had my little daily routine planned for my two weeks in Chaing Mai. I was ready to go and have my ass kicked my a yoga guru.
I'm trying to come to grips with the fact that I am not going, but Himalaya Valley Yoga, broke my heart. I could have went with Steve this evening to see some Muy Tai kick boxing, but instead I'm acting like a big baby hidding in my room, not ready to face the world. Perhaps, I am being a bit melow-dramatic, but I can't say enough how much I wanted to do this.
I'm putting faith into the ol saying, "everything happens for a reason." Now, I can continue my travels with the great squiggly (yes, dave, he is squiggly) stephen. Tomorrow, I get to see my dear friend Kaylee from Australia. I will now still be able to do the famous float down a river and stop at bars to drink, in Laos. I will save a few thousand dollars, and I can still take yoga classes wherever the wind blows me.

Fighting Water

I don't think I could have picked a worse picture of myself, but I had to post it because it sums up our day in Bangkok the best.




The wonderful world of Angkor Wat is now behind us. Steve and I crossed the border back into Tailand, Bangkok to be exact. We had read that Tailand celebrates their new years april 13th- 15th with a gigantic water fight on the popular khaosin road. We got in the night of the 12th and a bit of water gun shooting had began, but nothing major. Little squirts here and there. The next day we got an early start to go check out some things that we had planned on visiting, but we never got there. We got no further than one block and we were soaked. It's super hot in Bangkok, so our clothes being moist with water instead of sweat seemed glorious. We canceled our plans to visit dry places, bought two squirt guns (one which steve dropped and broke after a total of 15 seconds), filled them up, sat outside at a restaurant, drank beer, and shot people. This was only the begining. The water fight also includes people carrying little buckets full of wet clay, which when walking past you, they smear on your face, in your hair, on your arms, even your clothes. The entire day all we did was walk around. We drank, we shot people, people shot us, people dumped buckets of ice cold water over our heads, people smeared clay in just about every crevis that exists on my face. We had a blast and we slept very well.
However, the next day we became prisioners in our guesthouse. There was no way of leaving without getting soaked and clayified, unless you left before 9am, and even then we found out that it didn't matter what street you were on in the city, this is how the Tai people say happy new year. We decided to leave the wetness of Bangkok and head north to Chang Mai. We got out without being harmed, but wanted to cry when we arrived in Chang Mai. We quickly found out that it was the same thing. Our first day in this town, Steve and I had to go take care of some traveling business, we had to leave and walk around. We were soaked instantly and couldn't even get the things we needed to get done because either they were closed because of the holiday or we couldn't go in because of our state of appearance. I was trying so hard to be positive and have fun with this celebration with the attitude, if you can't beat them, join them, but it got to the point where after 3 days of people dumping water and clay on me, I just couldn't take it. Steve held his patience as well, until while we were stopped and looking at our map to figure out where we were, some ass dumped a bucket of water on him, of course ruining the map. When we finally got back to our guesthouse, we were watching the news and found out the prime minister planned on extending the holiday due to the protests that have been taking place. I felt my face burning. I did not desire another day of either sitting inside or a day of being soaked for 12 hours straight.
Luckily, the water fight has ended and we have been able to go on with our travels. At the current moment we are having lunch and drinking soda pop at "pirates cove." where when I ordered my selection off of the menu the woman told me that they did not have that, so I chose something else, they didn't have that either. I asked if they were serving food at the time. She replied by saying I couldn't have what I ordered because she didn't know how to make it. I love Tailand.

steve's blog

i keep forgetting... here is stephen's blog if you care to look. he's a good writer. i ramble, he writes. stephenthelionheart.blogspot.com.

No water, no rice, no shirt,...no problem

Cambodia. A place where even if you are lost in the middle of the jungle, a young woman would some how pop out of no where to sell you cold water, silk scarfs and t-shirts that read, "danger: mines." It is impossible to be thirsty and naked in Cambodia, which is what I have been striving for. I think that I finally have to give up on this dream.
When we first entered Phnom Penh about a week ago, it was the first time that I really experienced culture shock. I wasn't ready for the terrible history that followed this country, I wasn't ready to be bombarded by little children begging for money and candy, I wasn't ready for a man with one eye to chase me off my tuk tuk with his arm reached out and a hat flipped upside down ready to hold some money. I wasn't prepared to say, "no thank you" and go on with my day.
Some of the worst that Cambodia has experienced only happened about 30-40 years ago, when a group of people came into this country believing that they could change it by reversing the social class over night. This group of people, the Khmer Rouge, wanted a socialist/communist (call it what you will) country, and they went about doing this by killing all intellectuals and people in the government. They killed hundreds of thousands of people, and those that they didn't kill became workers in the fields. Everyone was moved out of the cities and forced to live and work in the outskirts. This supposed communist country, everyone is equal country, we support ourself country, was nothing that it claimed to be. The Khmer Rouge was killing so many people that they couldn't even finish killing people in one day, they had to begin making prison camps. The people who were working in the fields, they were maybe given one meal a day, while the rice that they were farming was exported for money. What happened here, not so long ago, is equal to what Hittler had created, but it never gained the recognition or the same amount of compassion that was given to the Jewish community.
I could probably continue writing for quite a while on Cambodia's depressing history, but I will stop there, and move on to a happier note... Siem Reip and Angkor Wat. After being in Phnom Penh I didn't think I would ever get over my feelings of guilt for being born lucky, I guess. But, I did a little investigating to see what the proper way to help those in need. Our first night in Siem Reip, Steve and I went to take a free meditation course run by and English woman and we got into a whole extravagant conversation about guilt, and the mind, and meditation, that I will not even go into detail about. Anyway, while along these lines, we talked about how to help those in need. This woman has now been living in Cambodia for about 3 years and she told me that she felt the same as I did and would continually give to the children begging on the street until she found out what happened after the begging... parents put their children out to beg to make money for them and the family. The parents give the children all the clever lines that they come up with. And, no, the money is not for school. They do not send their kids to school with the money, like they should. They continue to take the money for themselves and the "family." When young girls become to old to sell postcards and bracelets, their parents sell their bodies. Yes, they become prostitutes and I have seen quite a few with older white men. It makes me sick. I guess the moral of my story here is, don't give into the children trying to sell you things no matter how damn cute they are ( they really are the cutest. I now understand why angelina and brad adopted from cambodia)There are organizations called NGO's that are non-profit organizations that work to help all children be able to go to school. So, if you want to help, make a donation to an NGO or... if you want to get me a Christmas or birthday gift, don't bother, donate instead. I would love, love, love that!
Ok... really... happier note... Siem Riep, Angkor Wat, temples galore. For the last few days, Steve and I have been making ourselves at home in the little town of siem Reip. We rented bikes for 3 days and have been ridding them everywhere, including the crazy streets that have no traffic laws what so ever and to the far, far away temples. You pretty much just merge where you can and try not to get hit. It was hard to get used to at first, but now, it's fun. I love that about only 2% of the people drive cars, the rest drive motor bikes or ride bikes, so you can listen to a lot of different conversations while ridding down the street. I also love that my bike has a basket. The basket does have a whole in it, but I still love it. I've always wanted a cruiser bike with a basket. I feel so cute when I ride it, like I should be in a movie.
While ridding to the temples, I love every single woman screaming at me from the side of the road saying in the same monotone, yet somehow whinny voice, "Hey lady, you buys someting?" When you actually stop at these amazing and historic temples, a dozen kids run up to you, again trying to sell you postcards and bracelets and they are not (excuse my language) fucking around. These children will follow you for a good twenty minutes and they will not stop talking, even to catch their breath. They are going to cut a deal if it kills them. If you tell them you have no money, they don't buy it. "You have no money, you don't come here." They are bold. Yesterday, I tried a new technique. I now like to call myself the "cambodian child whisperer." Before they even get to me, I hold my hand up and say, "ssss." Just like Caesar Millan. It seems to work pretty well.
Today is our last day for seeing the temples and we are taking a tuk tuk (motor bike with a little cushioned, covered trailer attached to the back), and thank Buddah because after ridding about 13 or so miles everyday for the last 3 days in 95-100 degree weather, I don't think my butt nor the rest of my body could take much more. I will miss my bike with a basket, but it's going to feel so nice to have someone drive us around.

p.s. I am working on putting up pictures. The internet connection has not been too good. One day... one day...

Mount Kinabalu, I climbed you

It has now been about 5 days since the climb to the tip top of mount kinabalu, and my quads and calves are still soar. I curse going down stairs and having to pee over a squatter toilet. However, despite the aches and pains the climb was quite an experience, which can be summed up into three categories; intense climb, intense people, and awesome people.
Intense climb:
Our climb up mount kinabalu began at 9am. It was hot, I was nervous. It is 6km to the accommodations (food and sleep) for the first day. The average hiker takes 5 hours to get there and by the time you get to 6km you are at about 3000 meters, which means the higher you get, the thinner the air is, the more steep the mountain is, and, of course, the harder the climb becomes. I physced myself out before I even first began the hike. I worried about my back, altitude sickness, snakes, everything imaginable. I prepared myself for the worse, and it didn't help that I had 3 boys in  my group who wanted to practically run up the mountain and leave me  in the dust. The first km or so, I tried to keep up with the boys, but I realized that I was killing myself and that I would never make it up if I made my mountain climb a race. I soon found my own pace and i was good. I'm glad i took my time, it gave me a chance to see everything that the boys, including Steve, were just running past. and, even with my slower pace, i still made it to the accommodations in 4 hours and 45 minutes, 15 minutes faster than the average time. and only about 15 minutes behind the boys. Go me!
When we got to our accommodation I was so relieved and excited to not have to move anymore for the day. But, my relaxation dream was soon shattered when our guide gave us the key to our tin shack with no heat and a bathroom with a cold shower located up a path from our tin shack, and she gave the two guys in our group two big, white fluffy towels and a key to their heated room with a heated shower. It's not even the cold tin shack part that bothered me here. It was the fact that we still had to hike 10 more minutes up slipper stones to get there while our buddies stayed in the same building. A few swear words perhaps came out of my mouth, other than that I sucked it up and climbed to our shack where I snuggled under covers not quite tired enough to sleep, but too exhausted to even hold a book in front of my face. I wanted to sleep because our next climb began at 245am, but sharing a twin bed with big butt Steve for heat. listening to the howling wind, and dreading what was in store for me in a few hours, prevented me from doing much of that..
245 soon rolled around and I, with quite a chip on my shoulder, rolled out of bed asking myself why I sign up for these things? Steve was like a little kid on Christmas morning. He was excited and ready to go. I struggled to bundle myself up while he made me a make-shift head lamp by duck tapping my flash light to one of my headbands. I was definitely the most fashionable mountain climber there. I brought color to a world of khaki and cargo with by brown and yellow pants topped with a pair of black and white shorts, accompanied by a hot pink tank top, turquoise shirt, black sweater, orange sweatshirt, bright blue coat, gray hat and of course my delightful duck taped flashlight headband. Everyone was jealous.

After gearing up, we headed out and it was hard. I struggled, the altitude had finally gotten to me. I had a head ache, my chest hurt, I wanted to vomit. However, I kept on truckin, shimming myself up rock walls using ropes in the dark, taking breaks every five minutes. I couldn't wait to climb down, or so I thought. I did make it to the top, I was about 15 minutes late for being there for the sunrise, but it was still amazing and really cold. And although it was painful, it was worth it for the view at the top and the stars. I think a lot of people miss the stars because they're so concerned about getting to the top in time for sunrise. I have been camping in remote places often, places where the sky is clear and you can see so many more stars than in the city, but here... mount kinabalu … you can see every single star in the universe. There were so many stars you could barely see black in the sky. Those stars are probably one of the most amazing things I will ever see.
After our cold and brief stay, enough time to take a few pictures, we began our descent. It was harder than I thought. What made it so hard was, at first, the flat rock. While walking down your toes continually slam against the tips of your shoes. (maybe if I had better shoes?) Also, we had to jump down a lot of rocks and large make-shift stairs which after 3 hours or so became pretty rough on the knee joints. It also didn't help that it had rained and the rocks and dirt were slippery and wet. I fell about 10 times, literally, and I fell every which way; on my butt, on my knees, on my wrists. I'm pretty much the best faller. Don't worry dad, I didn't hurt myself in anyway that necessitated a first-aid kit or a doctor. I eventually made it down, and it was one of the best feelings I have ever had in my life because I was proud of myself, but most of all because I could now shove some food in my face and lie down.

Our trip up the mountain was filled with more than just an intense climb, it was filled with intense people. The people that were climbing the mountain were all about khaki, cargo, vests, hats, gloves, sun screen, and hiking sticks. They looked like they just robbed gander mountain. One woman, who I named Linda after having her in a dream where she stole my car and drove me off a cliff, she will be receiving #1 psycho mother of the year award. Steve and I first witnessed this woman at dinner the day before we began our hike. She came into the only restaurant on the lower half of the mountain and let everyone else know she was there. She's the kind of woman who looks beautiful from far away, but when you get up close, you can tell that some not so great plastic surgery has been done. Anyway, while climbing up the mountain in the dark in the early morning, we happened to pass her and her what seemed to be perfect little family (husband, boy 10yrs, girl 12 yrs. old) In the pitch black these are the wonderful things she said to be a good mom and keep her kids calm while hanging on the side of a mountain. “HANG ON FOR DEAR LIFE AND DO WHATEVER THE GUIDE TELLS YOU!” “I DON'T CARE THAT YOU'RE SCARED, YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU DID THIS. YOU CAN GO BACK DOWN BY YOURSELF, I'M GOING TO THE TOP.” Enough said.

Lastly, I have to mention my 2 favorite people while climbing mount kinabalu. First, my Stephen. The second day of climbing while I was feeling sick, he stuck with me the entire time. He held my hand all the way up and didn't give up encouraging me. He missed the sunrise for me, he's the best. The second person I would like to mention is Lu La. Lu La was our Malaysian guide. If you saw her, you would never ever think that she spent 4 days a week climbing up and down a mountain. She was the cutest, sweetest lady ever. While the boys hurried ahead, she stayed with me continually telling me to slow down and take my time, which helped me greatly. Every time I had a little trip, her gasp was so loud and concerned. I wouldn't fall and she would say with her Malaysian accent, “Angela, be careful.” then we would both laugh. This happened probably close to 78 times through out the 2 days. I asked her what would happen if I hurt myself, would she carry me down. She replied, “No, Stephen. He strong.” Then she giggled. However, the greatest thing she did was remind me it was April fools on our way down. In a little whisper she said, “Angela... Angela.... what is the day?”
I said, “Ummm... April first.”
Lu La, “What is the day?”
Me, “Ummm... Monday?”
Lu La, “No.........................what is that day?”
I finally got what she was telling me. She wanted me to trick Steve, and how could I resist that. Climbing down a mountain, can't have a better opportunity then that. So I went through with it, pretending as if I hurt my ankle. I continued the act until the other boys in our group became concerned and started taking out first aid. I believe that I got Steve good, he believes otherwise. Either way, I couldn't have done it without my darling little Lu La. I probably would not have made it up and down the mountain without her either. I proclaimed her my guardian angel.