Saturday, December 25, 2010
Hoi An
In the center on Vietnam, along the river, a short bike ride from the beach, lays this quaint town, with some French colonial influences of architecture and baguettes, an old quarter, a boardwalk along the river, some small temples with beautiful art featuring fantastic dragons, horses and paintings that seem to be influenced by Christianity.
The bridge that crosses between two old parts of town is lined up with lanterns, pedestrians, bike riders, scooters, overlooking the big wooden blue boats with eyes painted on their front, bringing them to life. Huge paper sculptures of a dragon, a fish jumping out of the water, a turtle and a lion float on the other side of the bridge, waiting patiently till nightfall to be illuminated and glow in their bright colors. Just behind them, crossing over a smaller offshoot of the river, is the Japanese bridge, covered with a strong roof and guarded by dogs on one side and monkeys on the other, symbolizing the years the bridge began and finished its construction.
This is the new undiscovered Ubud of Bali. With tons of wonderful cafes, great restaurants, amazing shopping, tailored suits, jackets, dresses and shirts, beautiful art galleries, massage spas and nail saloons, cool lounges Saigon style influenced by New York installed in a heritage homes from 200 years ago, calm streets in the old quarter that in the evenings are open only to pedestrians, while others have signs permitting primitive vehicles as well, a laid back feel, a friendly atmosphere, smiles and welcomes mixed with some ‘hello, where you from, come look my shop, please by something’…but not to a level of persistence sometimes known in India.
The area is flat, so bike riding is a treat, and within 10-15 minutes you could be on a beach with palm trees. Even the busy roads here are not too overwhelming, and mostly it feels just fine walking around anywhere. The place surely has been discovered as aside from the backpackers, many posh resorts are either up and shining, or under construction. There are some real beautiful beaches up towards Danag, the main big city north from here, and many of them are hidden behind walls, marking the territory of a to be exclusive resort.
I had my Pho as well as CaoLau, a Hoi An specialty noodle dish with lots of fresh greens, herbs and sprouts, had the wonderful local fresh spring rolls, with rice paper wrap rolled up over lots of veggies and sprouts slivered into thin match sticks, or the delicious green papaya salad, with roasted peanuts, shrimp, slivered carrots and freshly fried puffed rice crackers. Pizza, a dish a rarely eat back west, somehow appeared on my plate as a break from rice and noodles.
A day of walking, relaxing, editing photos, and a day of bike riding everywhere, a day of exploring little temples, the beautiful market with the pruned old ladies selling fresh vegetables along with tied legs white ducks, sitting quietly accepting their karma, or just too tired to fight, and an afternoon on a calming boat ride down the river.
On an early gray morning we mounted our 125cc Yamaha red and black scooter, and headed towards Marble Mountain. It has thin but relatively large wheels, a wanna be motorcycle, stuck on automatic. Full service at the gas station, good for employment. The road goes from narrow to wide as we pass a few funeral processions, and find large marble sculpture shops along the side of the road. Everything involves shopping, even parking the scooter; free parking if you ‘come look my shop later, no buy no problem, just looking.’
We climbed the steep stairs, bought lots of large incense to offer all the great statutes we will encounter. The first Buddha was grand and white set on the side of the cliff, and like many other temples, had a little pond in front with a great sculpture like limestone rock with some large Bonsai plants wrapping roots around it’s niches. Bonsai, the dwarf plants, are much larger and less delicate here, but have a different quality, of mini trees with large blossoms wrapping and warping similarly to the miniature Japanese ones. Pagodas set atop the rocky peaks offer great views, or semi great views as the coastline is spotted with more resort construction. It seems that there is no zoning, no area kept aside, at least from my limited view. Caves with beautiful large Buddha’s, little temples, a cave deep in the ground offers super tall ceilings with a few skylights, a Buddha set high up in the wall, and a temple that is receiving a new marble flooring. We sit and listen to a recoded prayer coming from a speaker off a tall bluish pagoda; bells mark ends of sutras, creating a melody.
The scooter takes us a long way to My Son (pronounced: mi son), a heritage Hindu temple area, a mini Anchor Watt if you will. We stop to get food on the way, no English, just a TV hanging with all generations glued to it watching soup operas. I walk to the kitchen and point to the dishes that look appealing. Saigon Beer with ice in my glass along the morning glory and garlic, the yummy broth with greens, rice, fresh sprouts and lettuce, and a plate of shrimp in a red sauce.
After the bike dying on the way, a sweet prayer of mine, and a resurrection, we arrive. Nature is beautiful and lush, the ruins are interesting and set in a peaceful environment. We enjoy our walk through the area, but would not make it here just for this. Traveling, like life is about the process; the lunch we had, the tea place we stopped at just before with the young girl in short yellow pants and a flirty smile serving us warm Vietnamese tea and cold Lipton tea with ginger without us even ordering, the scooters carrying more than the imagination can hold, the cows led by the farmers on the side of the road, the large water buffalo working the earth with the guide of a human, the one small tractor we found that was barely a frame with a hovering seat, and wheals that were actually the plowing tool, the friendly face pointing us in the right direction, the friendly and confused face pointing us in any direction just not to admit they do not understand, the old lady on the bicycle carrying loads of greens that seem to be floating in mid air with no support, the sun setting over rice fields with cone shaped hats glowing in her warmth, a family of four slowly on one small scooter, three girls in their beautiful traditional uniform, white tops, sheer with fabric all the way down their grey pants, cut into four sections, riding their bicycle one by the other, three boys in their simple uniform appear just a moment later, riding side by side, a girl riding behind her friend on the metal rack over the rear wheel places her feet beside her friends’ on the pedals as they move together sharing the load, some old homes sit quietly along the grand new fresh painted mansions, the breeze on the face, the helmet that flies off as I lift my head too high, and the sky spreading wide.
Traveling is about these little moments that are too many to write about, too often to stop and take pictures of; it is about the experience of life as it unfolds moment by moment. I am grateful to be part of this world, to share with humans across the globe their culture and tradition, their past and present. I find myself part of them, breathing their pain of past wars and living their dreams of a better tomorrow while sharing the flavors of their present joys.
The bridge that crosses between two old parts of town is lined up with lanterns, pedestrians, bike riders, scooters, overlooking the big wooden blue boats with eyes painted on their front, bringing them to life. Huge paper sculptures of a dragon, a fish jumping out of the water, a turtle and a lion float on the other side of the bridge, waiting patiently till nightfall to be illuminated and glow in their bright colors. Just behind them, crossing over a smaller offshoot of the river, is the Japanese bridge, covered with a strong roof and guarded by dogs on one side and monkeys on the other, symbolizing the years the bridge began and finished its construction.
This is the new undiscovered Ubud of Bali. With tons of wonderful cafes, great restaurants, amazing shopping, tailored suits, jackets, dresses and shirts, beautiful art galleries, massage spas and nail saloons, cool lounges Saigon style influenced by New York installed in a heritage homes from 200 years ago, calm streets in the old quarter that in the evenings are open only to pedestrians, while others have signs permitting primitive vehicles as well, a laid back feel, a friendly atmosphere, smiles and welcomes mixed with some ‘hello, where you from, come look my shop, please by something’…but not to a level of persistence sometimes known in India.
The area is flat, so bike riding is a treat, and within 10-15 minutes you could be on a beach with palm trees. Even the busy roads here are not too overwhelming, and mostly it feels just fine walking around anywhere. The place surely has been discovered as aside from the backpackers, many posh resorts are either up and shining, or under construction. There are some real beautiful beaches up towards Danag, the main big city north from here, and many of them are hidden behind walls, marking the territory of a to be exclusive resort.
I had my Pho as well as CaoLau, a Hoi An specialty noodle dish with lots of fresh greens, herbs and sprouts, had the wonderful local fresh spring rolls, with rice paper wrap rolled up over lots of veggies and sprouts slivered into thin match sticks, or the delicious green papaya salad, with roasted peanuts, shrimp, slivered carrots and freshly fried puffed rice crackers. Pizza, a dish a rarely eat back west, somehow appeared on my plate as a break from rice and noodles.
A day of walking, relaxing, editing photos, and a day of bike riding everywhere, a day of exploring little temples, the beautiful market with the pruned old ladies selling fresh vegetables along with tied legs white ducks, sitting quietly accepting their karma, or just too tired to fight, and an afternoon on a calming boat ride down the river.
On an early gray morning we mounted our 125cc Yamaha red and black scooter, and headed towards Marble Mountain. It has thin but relatively large wheels, a wanna be motorcycle, stuck on automatic. Full service at the gas station, good for employment. The road goes from narrow to wide as we pass a few funeral processions, and find large marble sculpture shops along the side of the road. Everything involves shopping, even parking the scooter; free parking if you ‘come look my shop later, no buy no problem, just looking.’
We climbed the steep stairs, bought lots of large incense to offer all the great statutes we will encounter. The first Buddha was grand and white set on the side of the cliff, and like many other temples, had a little pond in front with a great sculpture like limestone rock with some large Bonsai plants wrapping roots around it’s niches. Bonsai, the dwarf plants, are much larger and less delicate here, but have a different quality, of mini trees with large blossoms wrapping and warping similarly to the miniature Japanese ones. Pagodas set atop the rocky peaks offer great views, or semi great views as the coastline is spotted with more resort construction. It seems that there is no zoning, no area kept aside, at least from my limited view. Caves with beautiful large Buddha’s, little temples, a cave deep in the ground offers super tall ceilings with a few skylights, a Buddha set high up in the wall, and a temple that is receiving a new marble flooring. We sit and listen to a recoded prayer coming from a speaker off a tall bluish pagoda; bells mark ends of sutras, creating a melody.
The scooter takes us a long way to My Son (pronounced: mi son), a heritage Hindu temple area, a mini Anchor Watt if you will. We stop to get food on the way, no English, just a TV hanging with all generations glued to it watching soup operas. I walk to the kitchen and point to the dishes that look appealing. Saigon Beer with ice in my glass along the morning glory and garlic, the yummy broth with greens, rice, fresh sprouts and lettuce, and a plate of shrimp in a red sauce.
After the bike dying on the way, a sweet prayer of mine, and a resurrection, we arrive. Nature is beautiful and lush, the ruins are interesting and set in a peaceful environment. We enjoy our walk through the area, but would not make it here just for this. Traveling, like life is about the process; the lunch we had, the tea place we stopped at just before with the young girl in short yellow pants and a flirty smile serving us warm Vietnamese tea and cold Lipton tea with ginger without us even ordering, the scooters carrying more than the imagination can hold, the cows led by the farmers on the side of the road, the large water buffalo working the earth with the guide of a human, the one small tractor we found that was barely a frame with a hovering seat, and wheals that were actually the plowing tool, the friendly face pointing us in the right direction, the friendly and confused face pointing us in any direction just not to admit they do not understand, the old lady on the bicycle carrying loads of greens that seem to be floating in mid air with no support, the sun setting over rice fields with cone shaped hats glowing in her warmth, a family of four slowly on one small scooter, three girls in their beautiful traditional uniform, white tops, sheer with fabric all the way down their grey pants, cut into four sections, riding their bicycle one by the other, three boys in their simple uniform appear just a moment later, riding side by side, a girl riding behind her friend on the metal rack over the rear wheel places her feet beside her friends’ on the pedals as they move together sharing the load, some old homes sit quietly along the grand new fresh painted mansions, the breeze on the face, the helmet that flies off as I lift my head too high, and the sky spreading wide.
Traveling is about these little moments that are too many to write about, too often to stop and take pictures of; it is about the experience of life as it unfolds moment by moment. I am grateful to be part of this world, to share with humans across the globe their culture and tradition, their past and present. I find myself part of them, breathing their pain of past wars and living their dreams of a better tomorrow while sharing the flavors of their present joys.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Halong Bay
A sweet talkative young man named Tang (wrong spelling on purpose, but this is how you pronounce it), picks us up at the hotel, 160 km in 5 hours, with a pit stop and some rounds to pick up a few other guests, surprisingly enough a few from the US. It’s somewhat misty out there, giving the bay a spiritual feel of a Japanese painting, though in reality most of those paintings would sell far less than the same painting on a sunny day.
The boat is quite grand, dark wood, three levels, with a nice upper deck, and a Viking feel to it. A welcome drink, a break and the boat stops moving. Transfer to another boat and head towards a bay within the bay. We pass countless islands, all rising out of the water in dramatic cliffs, climbing high up as if they intended to be a play ground for climbers. Powerful rock with some vegetation on it, some are smaller some enormous. I have seen the like in Yangshu near Guilin in the Southeast of China, though here it is rising out of an endless sea. In south Thailand I have seen a huge monolith like this as well in the ocean, but not nearly as grand or extensive as here. The boat is smooth and calming, not too warm, not too cold. Nice fellow travelers include people from Singapore, India, Ireland, and the US. The boat docks, hop on to a smaller boat and climb up one of the small but very tall islands. Sorry, but now words will do justice to the view. I’ll try anyway. Steep stairs through vegetation, an opening, terrace like exposes the bay with its numerous island monoliths, twenty or so large wooden boats as if taken from a scene of a new movie pretending to be old, some smaller local faded wooden boats roaming around and vast skies. Endless sky.
Dinner on the boat, Karaoke that we did as a sing along as no one wanted to be Madonna or John Lennon, a moment of squid fishing close to midnight and sleep. Slept well on the boat.
After breakfast on the boat, we climbed into the “Amazing Cave”, which was really nice indeed, with stalagmites and stalactites, though the view from above was really what makes it fantastic. The rash cans were shaped as black and white dolphins or penguins. Now where did they get that idea? Did they ship the trashcans all the way from Iceland, or do they have a northern person design the cans around here? We shipped to another Island, part of the Cat Ba national park, where we mounted on bicycles with no gear and squeaking breaks, with a basket up front we head out, riding along the green water, surrounded by cliff rock walls, passing a Buddhist temple that is used twice a month to pray for rains, entering a big valley with more fish farms, along some rice fields and goats set to the background of the grand monoliths with the bushy green and mustard yellow, like receding hair on a curly big headed Yemen, entered a village and explored a bit of their daily life.
Next we went kayaking, through the beautiful chilli waters, passing by floating homes in between the islands, circling around some monoliths, going under a little arch connecting two islands, rested for a moment soaking it all in, the paddled powerfully, letting it all out, went for a swim in the cold water, dived head first from the boat, and dried out in the barely peaking sun.
Stayed on Cat Ba, a nice island with not much going for it at night, a good thing since there is less of harassment, strolled the concrete boardwalk, ate some ice cream and climbed to bed.
Last day is travel day, boats through the beautiful scenery, the grand rocks with floating homes in front of them, the small fish farms that look actually pretty good and natural, maybe I’ll be OK buying the farm raised shrimp from Vietnam at Trader Joe’s next time, water which obeys the rhythm of the wind, and dances slightly, rocking the boat like a good DJ, using someone else’s music to rock individuals moving by.
The boat is quite grand, dark wood, three levels, with a nice upper deck, and a Viking feel to it. A welcome drink, a break and the boat stops moving. Transfer to another boat and head towards a bay within the bay. We pass countless islands, all rising out of the water in dramatic cliffs, climbing high up as if they intended to be a play ground for climbers. Powerful rock with some vegetation on it, some are smaller some enormous. I have seen the like in Yangshu near Guilin in the Southeast of China, though here it is rising out of an endless sea. In south Thailand I have seen a huge monolith like this as well in the ocean, but not nearly as grand or extensive as here. The boat is smooth and calming, not too warm, not too cold. Nice fellow travelers include people from Singapore, India, Ireland, and the US. The boat docks, hop on to a smaller boat and climb up one of the small but very tall islands. Sorry, but now words will do justice to the view. I’ll try anyway. Steep stairs through vegetation, an opening, terrace like exposes the bay with its numerous island monoliths, twenty or so large wooden boats as if taken from a scene of a new movie pretending to be old, some smaller local faded wooden boats roaming around and vast skies. Endless sky.
Dinner on the boat, Karaoke that we did as a sing along as no one wanted to be Madonna or John Lennon, a moment of squid fishing close to midnight and sleep. Slept well on the boat.
After breakfast on the boat, we climbed into the “Amazing Cave”, which was really nice indeed, with stalagmites and stalactites, though the view from above was really what makes it fantastic. The rash cans were shaped as black and white dolphins or penguins. Now where did they get that idea? Did they ship the trashcans all the way from Iceland, or do they have a northern person design the cans around here? We shipped to another Island, part of the Cat Ba national park, where we mounted on bicycles with no gear and squeaking breaks, with a basket up front we head out, riding along the green water, surrounded by cliff rock walls, passing a Buddhist temple that is used twice a month to pray for rains, entering a big valley with more fish farms, along some rice fields and goats set to the background of the grand monoliths with the bushy green and mustard yellow, like receding hair on a curly big headed Yemen, entered a village and explored a bit of their daily life.
Next we went kayaking, through the beautiful chilli waters, passing by floating homes in between the islands, circling around some monoliths, going under a little arch connecting two islands, rested for a moment soaking it all in, the paddled powerfully, letting it all out, went for a swim in the cold water, dived head first from the boat, and dried out in the barely peaking sun.
Stayed on Cat Ba, a nice island with not much going for it at night, a good thing since there is less of harassment, strolled the concrete boardwalk, ate some ice cream and climbed to bed.
Last day is travel day, boats through the beautiful scenery, the grand rocks with floating homes in front of them, the small fish farms that look actually pretty good and natural, maybe I’ll be OK buying the farm raised shrimp from Vietnam at Trader Joe’s next time, water which obeys the rhythm of the wind, and dances slightly, rocking the boat like a good DJ, using someone else’s music to rock individuals moving by.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Hanoi
Stopped by the tourist desk to ask about transportation to the city, and the beautiful Vietnamese woman speaking good English with a heavy accent, helped us book a wonderful hotel, a three day tour to Halong Bay, and a flight down to Danang. Life has just found some order after Bangkok chaos, and with the rainy foggy weather that welcomed us out side, we were very happy to have a nice comfy start. The taxi made its way to the French quarter, finding its’ way through the rain and the early darkness that fell on the city.
Super friendly staff, a beautiful room, a shower, some laundry, hand washed and a walk about town to get some food. After a lovely dinner of lots of veggies, the best variety on our trip so far, and some fish we strolled towards the night market. At least that’s what I thought, as it seemed that we were never getting there. Asked for help, but the man just offered to take us on his bicycle rickshaw. I felt bad having him drive us, yet I knew that if I walk away, I actually took an income away from him, so we sat on the nice slightly reclining metal framed seat, plastic covered silver cushions, facing the street in front of us. Imagine one of those royal seats, mounted on the front of the bike, covered on top, with the handle bar behind us, and the bike driver looking over our heads through our opened cage. He drove us about one hundred meters, to where we saw the night market bustle begin, hopped off and paid him for what should have been ten times longer of a ride. The market was not so amazing, but I really enjoyed it being a true locals market, a place where mostly locals walk around and get their clothes, accessories or imitations of Dolce Gabana shoes. A local artist was stringing wooden pieces, embedded with copper or aluminum designs, to a necklace. He was truly cute, with a charming smile. I could not resist but buy a whole bunch of necklaces from him.
A day of wondering through the streets; A local food market where fish, meat eggs, vegetables, fruit are all sold right on the street, barely even stands, in whatever way it works, just piled up on the side walk or from a basket. Beautiful produce, beautiful people. They just don’t want their photo taken, mostly that is. I think it was in China, back in the day where they thought that by taking their photo you are actually stealing their spirit. Is it true?
We walked along busy streets, scooters more than in Bangkok, like a swarm of bees, buzzing to find honey due, beeping, carrying another person or a whole family, a bicycle holding a fruit shop or flower shop, a delivery of Heineken beer, covering the scooter with the green boxes all around, and even with all the beeping and honking, it all seemed very calm and patient. The beeping was to notify the other person of their existence, or to tell them to move aside, but there was no angry tone. We walk down a French colonial street, facing a lake dotted with large swan shaped pedal boats, white and accents of pastel blue and pink contrasting the hazy day, we turn left as we see a huge lake across the street and enter a small temple with dragons, pass through a pretty gate, to see the courtyard dotted with teen age girls dressed in a white and blue uniform, the colors of the Israeli flag, the blue was a long blouse, going down all the way to the white pant length, but with a slit coming up above the hip bone, like two stripes of blue on the white flag. Down the street we pass the enormous French style president house, behind it humbly exists the stilt house, where Ho Chi Min used to reside, and further down the street, we enter a vast road closed to traffic, a grand grass square on one side and the HCM mausoleum on the other. We arrived right on time for the guard change. The white pressed uniforms, the exaggerated march and the peacock feeling of it all.
A pagoda, a museum, the temple of literature from 1070AD and the first university behind it established in 1076, with it’s five courts and some old decorations of dragons and flowers with very large bonsai like pots in the court, and a tea break; Lots of cafés everywhere, wonderful city really, even if a bit chaotic in the old quarter.
Super friendly staff, a beautiful room, a shower, some laundry, hand washed and a walk about town to get some food. After a lovely dinner of lots of veggies, the best variety on our trip so far, and some fish we strolled towards the night market. At least that’s what I thought, as it seemed that we were never getting there. Asked for help, but the man just offered to take us on his bicycle rickshaw. I felt bad having him drive us, yet I knew that if I walk away, I actually took an income away from him, so we sat on the nice slightly reclining metal framed seat, plastic covered silver cushions, facing the street in front of us. Imagine one of those royal seats, mounted on the front of the bike, covered on top, with the handle bar behind us, and the bike driver looking over our heads through our opened cage. He drove us about one hundred meters, to where we saw the night market bustle begin, hopped off and paid him for what should have been ten times longer of a ride. The market was not so amazing, but I really enjoyed it being a true locals market, a place where mostly locals walk around and get their clothes, accessories or imitations of Dolce Gabana shoes. A local artist was stringing wooden pieces, embedded with copper or aluminum designs, to a necklace. He was truly cute, with a charming smile. I could not resist but buy a whole bunch of necklaces from him.
A day of wondering through the streets; A local food market where fish, meat eggs, vegetables, fruit are all sold right on the street, barely even stands, in whatever way it works, just piled up on the side walk or from a basket. Beautiful produce, beautiful people. They just don’t want their photo taken, mostly that is. I think it was in China, back in the day where they thought that by taking their photo you are actually stealing their spirit. Is it true?
We walked along busy streets, scooters more than in Bangkok, like a swarm of bees, buzzing to find honey due, beeping, carrying another person or a whole family, a bicycle holding a fruit shop or flower shop, a delivery of Heineken beer, covering the scooter with the green boxes all around, and even with all the beeping and honking, it all seemed very calm and patient. The beeping was to notify the other person of their existence, or to tell them to move aside, but there was no angry tone. We walk down a French colonial street, facing a lake dotted with large swan shaped pedal boats, white and accents of pastel blue and pink contrasting the hazy day, we turn left as we see a huge lake across the street and enter a small temple with dragons, pass through a pretty gate, to see the courtyard dotted with teen age girls dressed in a white and blue uniform, the colors of the Israeli flag, the blue was a long blouse, going down all the way to the white pant length, but with a slit coming up above the hip bone, like two stripes of blue on the white flag. Down the street we pass the enormous French style president house, behind it humbly exists the stilt house, where Ho Chi Min used to reside, and further down the street, we enter a vast road closed to traffic, a grand grass square on one side and the HCM mausoleum on the other. We arrived right on time for the guard change. The white pressed uniforms, the exaggerated march and the peacock feeling of it all.
A pagoda, a museum, the temple of literature from 1070AD and the first university behind it established in 1076, with it’s five courts and some old decorations of dragons and flowers with very large bonsai like pots in the court, and a tea break; Lots of cafés everywhere, wonderful city really, even if a bit chaotic in the old quarter.
Bangkok 2
A week went by, like a blur, like a tuk-tuk zooming through town, negotiating a price, the driver telling me that the Palace will open at 2pm as there is a ceremony for the king in the morning, and then taking us to a beautiful huge standing Buddha with a fantastic temple besides it, a place to release birds out of cages symbolizing the freedom of our souls (our minds in my interpretation). He waits patiently for us, and then takes us to another temple which is closed and as many big tourist shops as he can claiming they are some sort of special expo for the kings birthday, I know better, but let him earn some commission anyway, until I say firmly, enough!
Then we head over to the Grand Palace, which is grand indeed. Or maybe it’s the Royal Palace, and I just find it beautiful. I have been here before, and the major difference is the amount of tourists around. Last I was here, I could move about freely, take photos without any foreign head appearing at the bottom of my frame, but now it is packed, people everywhere. We found the wall paintings especially beautiful and intricate, fantastic stories of people and gods of masters and followers set amongst grand nature. Some of the figures are painted in gold, allowing for a beautiful contrast, reflecting daylight coming from under the awning. The temples are covered with layers of gold, carvings and statues; the roofs are impressive with frames of yellow, green and black ending stitched with corners that curve up towards the heavens holding some golden ornamentation. We hurried along to the reclining or sleeping Buddha as I had a teeth cleaning appointment later that evening. Impressive for it’s size mostly. Reminded me of art school when a friend made some huge prints that most of us never saw such a size before, it had a wow affect for it’s size.
Bangkok is a city of waves. Walking down the Khaosan road, with all the shops and stalls of T shirts, imitation Billabong pants, pirate music, jewelry, Havaianas flip flops which I surrendered and bought pink ones, imitation designer underwear with big names all over the waist band, corn on the cob grilled over charcoal, Pad thai with the option to chose from three different types of noodles as well as plain, with egg, or with chicken, foot massage for 30 min with beds rolling on to the street, fish massage where you put your feet in an aquarium full of fish, and surely signs for Thai massage, which I received on a parallel street. Some restaurants are hidden behind the stalls of dresses and Thai fisherman pants, guesthouses and a few banks and moneychangers, fruit stands, shake stands, dogs, a beggar, and big signs everywhere. This is beyond the tourists flooding the streets, the nicely dressed young men offering a tailored suit in 24 hours, women dressed in the northern Thailand traditional costume selling a variety of hand made crafts from bracelets to little wooden frog that as you roll a wooden stick on their dragooned back you get a cricket sound affect, which of course they do non stop, it’s really not very different than how I felt after walking around Vegas. In Vegas there were lights, and sounds of slot machines, but in both there was more stimulation than any human should receive in a lifetime, both offered lots of visual as well as sound and smell. In Vegas cigarettes and perfume, here, cigarettes, food and incense blended with ice.
Bangkok also has markets that are not flooded with tourists and can be charming. I spoke to a monk at one of them, while he was happy to pose in front of an array of Buddha sculptures. Monks in Orange were not uncommon, as well as people praying to Buddha, placing offerings in front of his sculptures, lighting incense and making donations. Buddha, from all I learned was just another human in search for happiness, or maybe a meaning for life, or just wanting to understand this cycle of suffering we live in. He had it all, money, food, pleasures, care takers, he was a prince living in a palace, but when he learned that that there are other states of living like, sickness and death, he decided to go and understand life, see what is beyond the walls of his sheltered life. He went backpacking if you will. He tried it all, from being ascetic to, a variety of spiritual paths, more food, less food, begging, or suffering more, but then he just stopped. Sat down and listened, dropped away, did not try so hard to achieve anything and there it was. He realized that he really had it all within him. Following the middle path, he could realize himself and thus liberate himself from suffering. He tried teaching this and even created some simple formulas, but in reality all he did was offer some tools and guidance of how one can find the realization, the liberation from suffering or enlightenment, on their own. Buddha taught freedom from the mind. Walking around Bangkok I am reminded of Christ and the Church. Just like Buddhism it seems that the interpretation of the simple beautiful teachings of beings that understood truth, has led to an established religion, a following and worshiping that no one asked for, turning teachings that require one to take responsibility for their actions and for finding their own healing, into a system where everything is put upon the dead teacher and a faith that by worshiping his image which most likely doesn’t even look like him will bring about freedom, success, love, fortune, rain, sun, children or any other human desire. Was it not to drop desires that both of these great masters taught. Why is it that humans attach so much to symbolism, to the cosmetics rather than the actual? Cosmetics have an important role, as well as rituals and liturgy, yet these are extra tools to help us find what we already have within, these are not a means to an end. Makeup may add a layer of beauty to a woman, but it could never beautify an ugly soul.
We had to stay longer in Bangkok as we discovered we needed to get Visas for Vietnam ahead of time. It turned out to be perfectly fine, as we have decided that we would rather stay in places longer and really feel them out rather than skip around, see a lot, but not fully experience every place. We did the tourist tour of the floating markets, and with no more expectations than a tourist trap, we actually enjoyed it. Seeing the bits of what it used to be like, the proficiency of the people on their boat, their balance and sense of efficiency, and of course trying new fruits, another spicy noodle soup and some fried sweets.
We went downtown to Siam center, walked through the gigantic MBK center, the craziest, largest mall I have been too, similar to Kauasan road but with AC and on nine levels, stopped buy a few other centers that had more of the real designer brands with real price tags as well and less crowds, I ate the spiciest soup of my life with a variety of wild mushrooms, and spent the fire with a chocolate doughnut. I bought amazing headphones that keep bringing a smile to my face as I listen to music; yes I had to admit to being a sound snob, with no attachment, I could stay with no music at all, but since I had the option to enjoy nice headphones (relatively of course), I decided to renounce my poverty state of mind and enjoy. Wondering down town, I sure got my fix for a big city.
We balanced it out with some quiet evenings in a healthy restaurant off a side street, sitting on cushions on the floor while drinking healthy juices and eating home made Tempeh, we got some foot massages that left us in a state of natural high, I got a Thai massage from a woman that found many sensitive pressure points, and proved that my body has not found enlightenment just yet. I enjoyed a balance of street stall food, along with some nicer restaurants, love having no phone, and yet happy to connect via the Internet often but not more than a few times a week. I guess I could not manage to keep it this way back home…
Then we head over to the Grand Palace, which is grand indeed. Or maybe it’s the Royal Palace, and I just find it beautiful. I have been here before, and the major difference is the amount of tourists around. Last I was here, I could move about freely, take photos without any foreign head appearing at the bottom of my frame, but now it is packed, people everywhere. We found the wall paintings especially beautiful and intricate, fantastic stories of people and gods of masters and followers set amongst grand nature. Some of the figures are painted in gold, allowing for a beautiful contrast, reflecting daylight coming from under the awning. The temples are covered with layers of gold, carvings and statues; the roofs are impressive with frames of yellow, green and black ending stitched with corners that curve up towards the heavens holding some golden ornamentation. We hurried along to the reclining or sleeping Buddha as I had a teeth cleaning appointment later that evening. Impressive for it’s size mostly. Reminded me of art school when a friend made some huge prints that most of us never saw such a size before, it had a wow affect for it’s size.
Bangkok is a city of waves. Walking down the Khaosan road, with all the shops and stalls of T shirts, imitation Billabong pants, pirate music, jewelry, Havaianas flip flops which I surrendered and bought pink ones, imitation designer underwear with big names all over the waist band, corn on the cob grilled over charcoal, Pad thai with the option to chose from three different types of noodles as well as plain, with egg, or with chicken, foot massage for 30 min with beds rolling on to the street, fish massage where you put your feet in an aquarium full of fish, and surely signs for Thai massage, which I received on a parallel street. Some restaurants are hidden behind the stalls of dresses and Thai fisherman pants, guesthouses and a few banks and moneychangers, fruit stands, shake stands, dogs, a beggar, and big signs everywhere. This is beyond the tourists flooding the streets, the nicely dressed young men offering a tailored suit in 24 hours, women dressed in the northern Thailand traditional costume selling a variety of hand made crafts from bracelets to little wooden frog that as you roll a wooden stick on their dragooned back you get a cricket sound affect, which of course they do non stop, it’s really not very different than how I felt after walking around Vegas. In Vegas there were lights, and sounds of slot machines, but in both there was more stimulation than any human should receive in a lifetime, both offered lots of visual as well as sound and smell. In Vegas cigarettes and perfume, here, cigarettes, food and incense blended with ice.
Bangkok also has markets that are not flooded with tourists and can be charming. I spoke to a monk at one of them, while he was happy to pose in front of an array of Buddha sculptures. Monks in Orange were not uncommon, as well as people praying to Buddha, placing offerings in front of his sculptures, lighting incense and making donations. Buddha, from all I learned was just another human in search for happiness, or maybe a meaning for life, or just wanting to understand this cycle of suffering we live in. He had it all, money, food, pleasures, care takers, he was a prince living in a palace, but when he learned that that there are other states of living like, sickness and death, he decided to go and understand life, see what is beyond the walls of his sheltered life. He went backpacking if you will. He tried it all, from being ascetic to, a variety of spiritual paths, more food, less food, begging, or suffering more, but then he just stopped. Sat down and listened, dropped away, did not try so hard to achieve anything and there it was. He realized that he really had it all within him. Following the middle path, he could realize himself and thus liberate himself from suffering. He tried teaching this and even created some simple formulas, but in reality all he did was offer some tools and guidance of how one can find the realization, the liberation from suffering or enlightenment, on their own. Buddha taught freedom from the mind. Walking around Bangkok I am reminded of Christ and the Church. Just like Buddhism it seems that the interpretation of the simple beautiful teachings of beings that understood truth, has led to an established religion, a following and worshiping that no one asked for, turning teachings that require one to take responsibility for their actions and for finding their own healing, into a system where everything is put upon the dead teacher and a faith that by worshiping his image which most likely doesn’t even look like him will bring about freedom, success, love, fortune, rain, sun, children or any other human desire. Was it not to drop desires that both of these great masters taught. Why is it that humans attach so much to symbolism, to the cosmetics rather than the actual? Cosmetics have an important role, as well as rituals and liturgy, yet these are extra tools to help us find what we already have within, these are not a means to an end. Makeup may add a layer of beauty to a woman, but it could never beautify an ugly soul.
We had to stay longer in Bangkok as we discovered we needed to get Visas for Vietnam ahead of time. It turned out to be perfectly fine, as we have decided that we would rather stay in places longer and really feel them out rather than skip around, see a lot, but not fully experience every place. We did the tourist tour of the floating markets, and with no more expectations than a tourist trap, we actually enjoyed it. Seeing the bits of what it used to be like, the proficiency of the people on their boat, their balance and sense of efficiency, and of course trying new fruits, another spicy noodle soup and some fried sweets.
We went downtown to Siam center, walked through the gigantic MBK center, the craziest, largest mall I have been too, similar to Kauasan road but with AC and on nine levels, stopped buy a few other centers that had more of the real designer brands with real price tags as well and less crowds, I ate the spiciest soup of my life with a variety of wild mushrooms, and spent the fire with a chocolate doughnut. I bought amazing headphones that keep bringing a smile to my face as I listen to music; yes I had to admit to being a sound snob, with no attachment, I could stay with no music at all, but since I had the option to enjoy nice headphones (relatively of course), I decided to renounce my poverty state of mind and enjoy. Wondering down town, I sure got my fix for a big city.
We balanced it out with some quiet evenings in a healthy restaurant off a side street, sitting on cushions on the floor while drinking healthy juices and eating home made Tempeh, we got some foot massages that left us in a state of natural high, I got a Thai massage from a woman that found many sensitive pressure points, and proved that my body has not found enlightenment just yet. I enjoyed a balance of street stall food, along with some nicer restaurants, love having no phone, and yet happy to connect via the Internet often but not more than a few times a week. I guess I could not manage to keep it this way back home…
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Bangkok, The king turns 83 - Happy Birthday!
“Take the shuttle train to town and then transfer to a taxi, it’s elevated, you’ll see some of the city and save a lot” recommended the local Thai man next to me on the plane. He told me stories of his hometown, why he would never visit the US; too far, homeland security (now how does he know of this?), visas and other hassles, so he went to Bali to show some culture and spirit to his nephew and niece. “There is much similar in the Buddhism and the Hinduism of Bali”, he said.
The train ride was smooth, clean and fast; at least as good as the Paris Metro, and apart from Hong Kong I think it’s one of the best. We descend from the elevated platform to street level, where taxis galore stop by, I show them the address of where we need to go, they look at it, contemplate a moment, then return me the paper and say no, shifting into first and drive away. At first I thought they are not sure where the place is they seemed to be thinking when looking at the address. It was written both in English and Thai, so should be easy to understand, but when a couple said “traffic, many traffic, king birthday today”, I remembered that December 5th is the kings birthday and we were going in the direction where the chaos was happening. A tuk-tuk stopped by us; it’s a three-wheeled open sides taxi. I figured if he’ll take us we’d go. We lounge into the low seats spread our legs forward on this super fast open rickshaw. The driver is young and cool, speaks better English than most of the taxi drivers we met. He tries to make some small talk, and makes sure we know to go to the party near the hotel. The woman behind the reception desk is wearing a dark navy suite with a white-collar shirt, wearing huge pink fluffy slippers with a Mickey Mouse face sculpted over the toes.
We dropped our stuff and headed out to join the celebration of the Kings Birthday. A few steps away I begin to see some food stalls and remember why I like Thailand. Big noodle soups, soups with an array veggies and meats, families sitting on plastic stools gathered around a round table with a big bowl of greens in the center. Some stalls were of the ‘make your own soup’ type, with a hot pot in the center, and the guests putting in it their choice of meat and vegetable. A seven eleven follows on the left, the first floor of a 5-6-story building, as the street opens up to a huge intersection. Grand I shall say. The whole area is lit up, never seen anything like this, all white lights pouring all over the boulevards. The huge intersection we stood at had enormous posters of the king. Billboards let’s say. We stood to take it in, took some photos that could not portray the magnitude of the scenery and the power of the quantity. And then came the silence. The grand boulevard was empty, every one was gathered on the sides, the king is coming, no photos please. We keep walking a bit towards a mini park to the side of the boulevard with tons of food stalls and lots of light displays. A light sculptures of hearts, increasing in size coming one out of the other, a big white boat with blue light colored waves, a small band playing in front of a huge light circle encompassing a photo of the king playing a mouth instrument (was it the sax?). A woman is arranging quail eggs on a large round cast iron plate with templates scooped out perfectly for the eggs. I watch her work with great attention. She is so precise, probably has put eggs in the little bowl shaped spaces a million times or more. I order my plate, maybe 8 little eggs scooped in it, pepper and some yummy spicy sauce. By the time I lift my head to check the boulevard, everyone is back on the street, the king has passed already. Well, this is the honest truth, I prefer the small workingman, and if there is food involved, I forget all royalty.
The rest of the walk through the millions of people (probably not much of an exaggeration) consisted of mostly checking out more food stalls and some people watching. The Thai have lots of style, fun style. They were mostly casual, of the NY, London, urban style hip, but not all big brands, colorful, accessories, and fun shoes, though most were surely walked in to the point of wearing out. Many were wearing pink, which I assumed had to do with the King’s Birthday.
I tried a soup that had rice noodles and lots of wild mushrooms, some sort of seaweed, and supposedly chicken, though I was happy I saw almost only mushrooms, black, oyster and some other unknown. I ordered Lauren the Pad Thai, rice noodles with veggies and peanuts.
Every intersection had a huge concrete structure with the top part a large circle containing a photo of the king from different periods of his life, framed with a ton of little shining lights. We reached the memorial intersection, and the fireworks that were only audio before, turned on their visual and filled the sky with beautiful colors, and fire rain of lights. The variety and quantity were at least as amazing as 4th of July in NY, and that is to say I was impressed. It went on for a long time. Everyone taking photos, from phone cameras, to smart phones, little digital cameras and an impressive amount of bigger SLR cameras, including tripods big flashes and all it takes to look like a professional. Except for the baseball cap.
We crossed the big circle walking through cars and scooters, busses and streams of people; there was an orderly chaos. It was an amazing feeling, more cars, bikes, tuk tuks and people together than I have ever seen, and yet it all flowed, slowly but calmly, there was patience and acceptance that this is it. The food stalls were infused with lots of kitschy stalls or just people selling stuff on the ground on a piece of cloth; wallets, belts, clothes, Zippo lighters, hair bands with two heart horns lit up in pink, other night party light items, candles, underwear, and the sugar candy, a girl waking by with super short pants, skewers of chicken beef and pork, fathers taking photos of their children in front of the altar for the king placed in front of the Mercedes dealership, skewers of squid, Thai sweets made on the spot, sweet corm mixed with condensed milk, teenage boys with hard worked hairstyles, and skateboarders’ shoes, a young couple passing by, her with an elegant dress, not flashy and some heals, him with a cool jeans and funky sneakers, a printed T, and a designer watch of an unknown brand, flip flops everywhere, some sandals, some cool sneakers, fruit cases of water melon, cantaloupe, green mango, and pineapple and again fireworks. As we make our way back, there is a whole second set of fire display lighting up the sky. Where does the darkness go when the light arrives?
The train ride was smooth, clean and fast; at least as good as the Paris Metro, and apart from Hong Kong I think it’s one of the best. We descend from the elevated platform to street level, where taxis galore stop by, I show them the address of where we need to go, they look at it, contemplate a moment, then return me the paper and say no, shifting into first and drive away. At first I thought they are not sure where the place is they seemed to be thinking when looking at the address. It was written both in English and Thai, so should be easy to understand, but when a couple said “traffic, many traffic, king birthday today”, I remembered that December 5th is the kings birthday and we were going in the direction where the chaos was happening. A tuk-tuk stopped by us; it’s a three-wheeled open sides taxi. I figured if he’ll take us we’d go. We lounge into the low seats spread our legs forward on this super fast open rickshaw. The driver is young and cool, speaks better English than most of the taxi drivers we met. He tries to make some small talk, and makes sure we know to go to the party near the hotel. The woman behind the reception desk is wearing a dark navy suite with a white-collar shirt, wearing huge pink fluffy slippers with a Mickey Mouse face sculpted over the toes.
We dropped our stuff and headed out to join the celebration of the Kings Birthday. A few steps away I begin to see some food stalls and remember why I like Thailand. Big noodle soups, soups with an array veggies and meats, families sitting on plastic stools gathered around a round table with a big bowl of greens in the center. Some stalls were of the ‘make your own soup’ type, with a hot pot in the center, and the guests putting in it their choice of meat and vegetable. A seven eleven follows on the left, the first floor of a 5-6-story building, as the street opens up to a huge intersection. Grand I shall say. The whole area is lit up, never seen anything like this, all white lights pouring all over the boulevards. The huge intersection we stood at had enormous posters of the king. Billboards let’s say. We stood to take it in, took some photos that could not portray the magnitude of the scenery and the power of the quantity. And then came the silence. The grand boulevard was empty, every one was gathered on the sides, the king is coming, no photos please. We keep walking a bit towards a mini park to the side of the boulevard with tons of food stalls and lots of light displays. A light sculptures of hearts, increasing in size coming one out of the other, a big white boat with blue light colored waves, a small band playing in front of a huge light circle encompassing a photo of the king playing a mouth instrument (was it the sax?). A woman is arranging quail eggs on a large round cast iron plate with templates scooped out perfectly for the eggs. I watch her work with great attention. She is so precise, probably has put eggs in the little bowl shaped spaces a million times or more. I order my plate, maybe 8 little eggs scooped in it, pepper and some yummy spicy sauce. By the time I lift my head to check the boulevard, everyone is back on the street, the king has passed already. Well, this is the honest truth, I prefer the small workingman, and if there is food involved, I forget all royalty.
The rest of the walk through the millions of people (probably not much of an exaggeration) consisted of mostly checking out more food stalls and some people watching. The Thai have lots of style, fun style. They were mostly casual, of the NY, London, urban style hip, but not all big brands, colorful, accessories, and fun shoes, though most were surely walked in to the point of wearing out. Many were wearing pink, which I assumed had to do with the King’s Birthday.
I tried a soup that had rice noodles and lots of wild mushrooms, some sort of seaweed, and supposedly chicken, though I was happy I saw almost only mushrooms, black, oyster and some other unknown. I ordered Lauren the Pad Thai, rice noodles with veggies and peanuts.
Every intersection had a huge concrete structure with the top part a large circle containing a photo of the king from different periods of his life, framed with a ton of little shining lights. We reached the memorial intersection, and the fireworks that were only audio before, turned on their visual and filled the sky with beautiful colors, and fire rain of lights. The variety and quantity were at least as amazing as 4th of July in NY, and that is to say I was impressed. It went on for a long time. Everyone taking photos, from phone cameras, to smart phones, little digital cameras and an impressive amount of bigger SLR cameras, including tripods big flashes and all it takes to look like a professional. Except for the baseball cap.
We crossed the big circle walking through cars and scooters, busses and streams of people; there was an orderly chaos. It was an amazing feeling, more cars, bikes, tuk tuks and people together than I have ever seen, and yet it all flowed, slowly but calmly, there was patience and acceptance that this is it. The food stalls were infused with lots of kitschy stalls or just people selling stuff on the ground on a piece of cloth; wallets, belts, clothes, Zippo lighters, hair bands with two heart horns lit up in pink, other night party light items, candles, underwear, and the sugar candy, a girl waking by with super short pants, skewers of chicken beef and pork, fathers taking photos of their children in front of the altar for the king placed in front of the Mercedes dealership, skewers of squid, Thai sweets made on the spot, sweet corm mixed with condensed milk, teenage boys with hard worked hairstyles, and skateboarders’ shoes, a young couple passing by, her with an elegant dress, not flashy and some heals, him with a cool jeans and funky sneakers, a printed T, and a designer watch of an unknown brand, flip flops everywhere, some sandals, some cool sneakers, fruit cases of water melon, cantaloupe, green mango, and pineapple and again fireworks. As we make our way back, there is a whole second set of fire display lighting up the sky. Where does the darkness go when the light arrives?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Gili Trawangan
Wayan 2 (his nick name since every first born in Bali gets the name of Wayan) drives us from the Hyatt to Padang Bai, from a grand resort the size of a village, to a small village the size of a resort. Padang Bai is quaint, a bay with lots of traditional fishing boats, narrow boats carved out of a single tree with long bamboo floaters parallel to the boats to keep the boat from tipping, like arms extending out of the body. The boats are colorful, and people are moving at a slow pace. To one end is the ferry terminal, and beside it are the speedboats ready to take passengers to the Gili Islands and Lombok. Lombok is a big Island to the south east of Bali, it’s Muslim sister, with the Gili’s set as three flat islands dotted with palm trees, one after the other, Gili Air, Gili Manu, and Gili Trawangan, the one we were headed to.
Strolling aimlessly at Padang Bai, buying some purple taro chips, or at least this is what I imagined it to be, as whatever I asked the old, wrinkled smiley woman, her answer was a nod of approve. The only thing she really understood were fingers showing the price, 3 fingers meaning 3 thousand rupees. It’s about 9000 rupee per dollar, so once you start with items that cost more, it can get confusing. How much is this bracelet, 30 cents, 3 dollars or wait, maybe 30? In Israel before it got so confusing the Lira was changed to a Shekel and the Shekel transformed into the New Israeli Shekel, where 3 zeros were taken away. Since then the Shekel has not done so badly, no more new currency is introduced for now.
We went swimming at the Bloo Lagoon beach, beautiful water surrounded by lava cliffs almost forming a lagoon, with some cacti growing all over the cliffs around. Yes, those cacti in a small form that I imagine in Arizona or Israel, but hey, they were there, just at the edge of the lush vegetation.
Back to our room, I opened the munchies bag and consciously ate an Oreo tube of cookies. It’s been years, and now I know why. It did not take long till I was horizontal, and stayed that way till 4am. OK, so it’s not all due to Oreos, I surely was mentally in need of decompression after the tour, but the Oreos were a great catalyst.
Changing US dollars as the only ATM was not working and we were told there is no ATM on the Island, which later we found out that a brand new one was installed. A quick reminder that you get better rates for 100-dollar bills, 20’s don’t get you far.
The boat ride was fun and smooth, meeting two Finish girls backpacking, sharing with them some of our food, learning from them how Chaotic is Kuta, listening to some French two seats ahead, a group of Australian teenagers being all sexy at the back of the boat; every ride, every new place holds a whole new mini cosmos, with humans absolutely sure that this is all that exists. I wonder if the water splashing at the side of the speedboat has any feeling of separate identity from the ocean as it shines in the sun for a moment before it descends back into the great ocean, swallowed by the deep blue.
Approaching Gili, I sit on the top front of the boat, wind blowing my messy hair back, the sun finding my skin between the stubble, giving it a nice roast, as I watch the white sand and turquoise water grow larger. Water is too shallow, so we transfer to a smaller boat that takes us ashore. We step into the warm water, get our luggage and a small attack of locals approach us asking if we want a room. The transportation on the Island is by feet, bicycles or horse carriages.
Gorman and Denise form the yoga tour have decided to join us on this adventure. Gorman and Lauren stay behind with the luggage as Denise and I scout for a room.
We settle in, relax, eat, walk, and drop into beach life. We needed a second day to do some more of nothing, swim in their salt-water pool, snorkeling right in front of our two story cottage, snorkeling, seeing turtles, blow fish, reading and some yoga.
Finally we are ready for a glass bottom boat ride that will take us around the other two Gili Islands and snorkeling, corals, turtles and beautiful quiet beaches. Sweet group, lots of Canadians, 2 super dark skin locals, and me getting darker by the minute.
The following day we rented bicycles and rode all around the Island. Empty beaches spotted with some new upcoming resorts. The nice thing is that all that is being built is not completely on the beach, has mostly a local feel and blends in, but it will sure change the demographics. Gili T, started as a party island, and later families and couples joined in as well, as the parties are contained to a small area and specific days. We are here a bit off-season so there seem to be no big parties anyway.
There are veggie options, but it sure is a heaven for the fish and seafood lover, with lots of fresh grilled fish on the beach, the catch of the day. Dinner to candle light, or some kerosene lamps, there is wifi in some restaurants, some have quiet music, some play Kenny G for the tourists, and my favorite played assortment of Buddha Bar compilations.
We kept seeing the Finish girls, and saw them off to their boat to Kuta as we were heading to snorkel. On the snorkeling boat connected with a Canadian girl that joined our biking day, and on the boat back to Padang Bai, we met two sisters from Holland. Surely some of the travel experience is connecting with other travelers, hearing stories, and learning about their lives. On the chill out day, I spent two hours in the swimming pool walking around the shallow waters, discussing poetry, spirituality, Zen and Kabalah with a French poet.
Wayan 1 met us as we arrived back to Padang Bai. We visited a traditional Balinese village; a village that was kept separate from the outside as to promote the conservation of tradition. We saw hand weaving, egg painting, basket weaving and carvings, delicate and beautiful work with no hassle. We continued on a scenic drive up the mountains, rice fields, local carrying a variety of things on their heads, lots of roosters in cages getting ready for their battle, a flock of humans walking on the street on their way to a burial, a farmer walking his ducks along the side of the road using along pole with red feathers at the end to keep them together, valleys and hills, curves, and lava mines, temples every where, and people giving offerings all the time. Little banana leaves with some rice, incense and flowers, splashing some perfumed water as the place the offerings at every corner. In the temples, as well as their homes, businesses or simple on the street. When walking in Ubud, where we arrived later that night, one has to constantly watch their step as there are just about the same amount of free spots to walk on as there are covered with offerings.
Tomorrow we leave Bali, and if I had to summarize it in just a few words, they would include, smiles, friendliness, offerings, spirit, lush, beautiful beaches, temples, rice fields, snake skin fruit, and fresh juice. Of course there was much more, but to experience the full thing, join me on my next trip, maybe May 2011?
Strolling aimlessly at Padang Bai, buying some purple taro chips, or at least this is what I imagined it to be, as whatever I asked the old, wrinkled smiley woman, her answer was a nod of approve. The only thing she really understood were fingers showing the price, 3 fingers meaning 3 thousand rupees. It’s about 9000 rupee per dollar, so once you start with items that cost more, it can get confusing. How much is this bracelet, 30 cents, 3 dollars or wait, maybe 30? In Israel before it got so confusing the Lira was changed to a Shekel and the Shekel transformed into the New Israeli Shekel, where 3 zeros were taken away. Since then the Shekel has not done so badly, no more new currency is introduced for now.
We went swimming at the Bloo Lagoon beach, beautiful water surrounded by lava cliffs almost forming a lagoon, with some cacti growing all over the cliffs around. Yes, those cacti in a small form that I imagine in Arizona or Israel, but hey, they were there, just at the edge of the lush vegetation.
Back to our room, I opened the munchies bag and consciously ate an Oreo tube of cookies. It’s been years, and now I know why. It did not take long till I was horizontal, and stayed that way till 4am. OK, so it’s not all due to Oreos, I surely was mentally in need of decompression after the tour, but the Oreos were a great catalyst.
Changing US dollars as the only ATM was not working and we were told there is no ATM on the Island, which later we found out that a brand new one was installed. A quick reminder that you get better rates for 100-dollar bills, 20’s don’t get you far.
The boat ride was fun and smooth, meeting two Finish girls backpacking, sharing with them some of our food, learning from them how Chaotic is Kuta, listening to some French two seats ahead, a group of Australian teenagers being all sexy at the back of the boat; every ride, every new place holds a whole new mini cosmos, with humans absolutely sure that this is all that exists. I wonder if the water splashing at the side of the speedboat has any feeling of separate identity from the ocean as it shines in the sun for a moment before it descends back into the great ocean, swallowed by the deep blue.
Approaching Gili, I sit on the top front of the boat, wind blowing my messy hair back, the sun finding my skin between the stubble, giving it a nice roast, as I watch the white sand and turquoise water grow larger. Water is too shallow, so we transfer to a smaller boat that takes us ashore. We step into the warm water, get our luggage and a small attack of locals approach us asking if we want a room. The transportation on the Island is by feet, bicycles or horse carriages.
Gorman and Denise form the yoga tour have decided to join us on this adventure. Gorman and Lauren stay behind with the luggage as Denise and I scout for a room.
We settle in, relax, eat, walk, and drop into beach life. We needed a second day to do some more of nothing, swim in their salt-water pool, snorkeling right in front of our two story cottage, snorkeling, seeing turtles, blow fish, reading and some yoga.
Finally we are ready for a glass bottom boat ride that will take us around the other two Gili Islands and snorkeling, corals, turtles and beautiful quiet beaches. Sweet group, lots of Canadians, 2 super dark skin locals, and me getting darker by the minute.
The following day we rented bicycles and rode all around the Island. Empty beaches spotted with some new upcoming resorts. The nice thing is that all that is being built is not completely on the beach, has mostly a local feel and blends in, but it will sure change the demographics. Gili T, started as a party island, and later families and couples joined in as well, as the parties are contained to a small area and specific days. We are here a bit off-season so there seem to be no big parties anyway.
There are veggie options, but it sure is a heaven for the fish and seafood lover, with lots of fresh grilled fish on the beach, the catch of the day. Dinner to candle light, or some kerosene lamps, there is wifi in some restaurants, some have quiet music, some play Kenny G for the tourists, and my favorite played assortment of Buddha Bar compilations.
We kept seeing the Finish girls, and saw them off to their boat to Kuta as we were heading to snorkel. On the snorkeling boat connected with a Canadian girl that joined our biking day, and on the boat back to Padang Bai, we met two sisters from Holland. Surely some of the travel experience is connecting with other travelers, hearing stories, and learning about their lives. On the chill out day, I spent two hours in the swimming pool walking around the shallow waters, discussing poetry, spirituality, Zen and Kabalah with a French poet.
Wayan 1 met us as we arrived back to Padang Bai. We visited a traditional Balinese village; a village that was kept separate from the outside as to promote the conservation of tradition. We saw hand weaving, egg painting, basket weaving and carvings, delicate and beautiful work with no hassle. We continued on a scenic drive up the mountains, rice fields, local carrying a variety of things on their heads, lots of roosters in cages getting ready for their battle, a flock of humans walking on the street on their way to a burial, a farmer walking his ducks along the side of the road using along pole with red feathers at the end to keep them together, valleys and hills, curves, and lava mines, temples every where, and people giving offerings all the time. Little banana leaves with some rice, incense and flowers, splashing some perfumed water as the place the offerings at every corner. In the temples, as well as their homes, businesses or simple on the street. When walking in Ubud, where we arrived later that night, one has to constantly watch their step as there are just about the same amount of free spots to walk on as there are covered with offerings.
Tomorrow we leave Bali, and if I had to summarize it in just a few words, they would include, smiles, friendliness, offerings, spirit, lush, beautiful beaches, temples, rice fields, snake skin fruit, and fresh juice. Of course there was much more, but to experience the full thing, join me on my next trip, maybe May 2011?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Bali part 2
A speedboat took us to Menjangan, a national park known for its reef and coral beauty. Warm wind blowing my hair back Fonzy style, san the sleek, crystal blue water and the site of a huge volcano appearing above the clouds in front of us. takes us on this white and blue wooden boat to snorkel off the boat and off from shore. Swimming along the reef, with an amazing array of colors and shapes, both fish and corals, and some stinging mini jellyfish. After lunch on the beach we head back, I sit on the top front end of the boat loving the sun and the wind as the boats speeds ahead. We go towards some fishing boats and slow down a lot, as we see some tuna jumping out of the water, which means dolphins, are here too. I thought that what makes the tuna fatty, yummy and healthy is the fact that in order to survive in the cold water it has higher levels of fatty acids which allow it to keep moving and not freeze. If that is the case, what is it doing here in warm waters, and does it have less omega 3’s because of its ability to swim without it?
Sure enough, dolphins were there, one, two, wait, maybe ten, wow, too many to count! We saw large schools of them, just swimming leisurely as if the Internet was never invented. No worries about real estate or even being on time for yoga, just swimming through life, opening their mouths and swallowing tuna whole. What a day. We were like little kids jumping from one side of the boat to the other, following more dolphins, full of excitement and delight!
A long drive back to Ubud, maybe too long, I am ready to see it. Trying to stay present, I still found myself having an image of what it would be like. A town, not too big, no high rises, lots of shops, a cool market, tons of restaurants, some nice hotels, but none huge and overwhelming. Ubud has its touristic side, yet it has charm. Massages for ten to twenty dollars, “Kafe”, that served amazing lemon ginger tea, or lemongrass, ginger with Indonesian leaves along a raw black current cashew cake, art galleries (or shops), lots of crafts, wood carvings, boutique clothing stores, a yoga store, and lets not forget the monkey forest. We arranged for a temple tour seeing the elephant temple as well as another great temple, beautiful sculptures everywhere.
I entered the Zen massage place, and enjoyed the soft music. I was led through a tunnel, walking of stepping stones set amidst a flow of water, entered my room with hand painted rice fields on the wall, got undressed and lay on the massage table covered with a sheet. The little Balinese woman came in, and moved her hands along my body, first over the sheet, and then with lots of oil, rubbing my body. Next came the spice rub, cinnamon, cloves or other spices were mixed and spread on my skin. She left the room, allowing me to feel abandoned, wanting more hands on as I wait. She returned to spread the dried spice mix a bit further, and then added a freezing cold layer of yogurt on top. I became a whole meal. When she finished one side, I flipped and received the same treatment on the other side. Then she told me to shower. I waited for a second, but she encouraged me to get up. It was funny, it’s almost as if I forgot I was naked. I was showering as she as cleaning the massage table. “You take bath twenty minutes, you drink tea, eat fruit and finish, OK?” Ok I replied. So easy to be obedient to some one demanding me to relax and enjoy.
I bought some Yoga clothes at a cool local shop, spent a few hours there contemplating importing some goods back to the US, even created a whole business plan for it. We ate at Clear Water, which was absolutely awesome. Live bamboo separated the fantastic modern meets local Bali style restaurant, in a way similar but different to the Buddha bar in Paris, amazing detail, great music, wonderful food and reasonable prices. The food was exactly what I love, from a plate of Middle Eastern dips with raw flax seed crackers and some pita crisps, through tofu sachets in yummy peanut sauce, dragon bowl similar to the one in Manhattan, tuna with black pepper along wit a side of wasabi mashed potatoes, and delicious raw chocolate coffee cake or lemon strawberry cake for dessert.
From Ubud we head to Sanur to the Hyatt, hosting a huge complex with lots of pools, a long stretch of beach, and a few restaurants. This was our last stop with the group. I had a wonderful time with them, and felt a great connection. Like all my retreats, the people and my interactions with them, the sharing’s are what make the trip a highlight. We had some bumps relating to the organizing part of the tour, which I was not in charge of. It was hard for me to not be completely in charge, trusting someone else with such a large part of the trip, but a great learning experience, and I am truly grateful for the support, patience and trust of my students.
As I write this from the beach on the Gili Island, I have now created the perfect itinerary for the next one, scouting and figuring out every detail, as Lauren says “ When Doron plans something himself, he has it down to a T.” This phrase does not make sense to me, but I like it. Off to connect to the slow Internet with lots of gratitude, as I still remember sending a handful of letters instead of this easy blog.
Sure enough, dolphins were there, one, two, wait, maybe ten, wow, too many to count! We saw large schools of them, just swimming leisurely as if the Internet was never invented. No worries about real estate or even being on time for yoga, just swimming through life, opening their mouths and swallowing tuna whole. What a day. We were like little kids jumping from one side of the boat to the other, following more dolphins, full of excitement and delight!
A long drive back to Ubud, maybe too long, I am ready to see it. Trying to stay present, I still found myself having an image of what it would be like. A town, not too big, no high rises, lots of shops, a cool market, tons of restaurants, some nice hotels, but none huge and overwhelming. Ubud has its touristic side, yet it has charm. Massages for ten to twenty dollars, “Kafe”, that served amazing lemon ginger tea, or lemongrass, ginger with Indonesian leaves along a raw black current cashew cake, art galleries (or shops), lots of crafts, wood carvings, boutique clothing stores, a yoga store, and lets not forget the monkey forest. We arranged for a temple tour seeing the elephant temple as well as another great temple, beautiful sculptures everywhere.
I entered the Zen massage place, and enjoyed the soft music. I was led through a tunnel, walking of stepping stones set amidst a flow of water, entered my room with hand painted rice fields on the wall, got undressed and lay on the massage table covered with a sheet. The little Balinese woman came in, and moved her hands along my body, first over the sheet, and then with lots of oil, rubbing my body. Next came the spice rub, cinnamon, cloves or other spices were mixed and spread on my skin. She left the room, allowing me to feel abandoned, wanting more hands on as I wait. She returned to spread the dried spice mix a bit further, and then added a freezing cold layer of yogurt on top. I became a whole meal. When she finished one side, I flipped and received the same treatment on the other side. Then she told me to shower. I waited for a second, but she encouraged me to get up. It was funny, it’s almost as if I forgot I was naked. I was showering as she as cleaning the massage table. “You take bath twenty minutes, you drink tea, eat fruit and finish, OK?” Ok I replied. So easy to be obedient to some one demanding me to relax and enjoy.
I bought some Yoga clothes at a cool local shop, spent a few hours there contemplating importing some goods back to the US, even created a whole business plan for it. We ate at Clear Water, which was absolutely awesome. Live bamboo separated the fantastic modern meets local Bali style restaurant, in a way similar but different to the Buddha bar in Paris, amazing detail, great music, wonderful food and reasonable prices. The food was exactly what I love, from a plate of Middle Eastern dips with raw flax seed crackers and some pita crisps, through tofu sachets in yummy peanut sauce, dragon bowl similar to the one in Manhattan, tuna with black pepper along wit a side of wasabi mashed potatoes, and delicious raw chocolate coffee cake or lemon strawberry cake for dessert.
From Ubud we head to Sanur to the Hyatt, hosting a huge complex with lots of pools, a long stretch of beach, and a few restaurants. This was our last stop with the group. I had a wonderful time with them, and felt a great connection. Like all my retreats, the people and my interactions with them, the sharing’s are what make the trip a highlight. We had some bumps relating to the organizing part of the tour, which I was not in charge of. It was hard for me to not be completely in charge, trusting someone else with such a large part of the trip, but a great learning experience, and I am truly grateful for the support, patience and trust of my students.
As I write this from the beach on the Gili Island, I have now created the perfect itinerary for the next one, scouting and figuring out every detail, as Lauren says “ When Doron plans something himself, he has it down to a T.” This phrase does not make sense to me, but I like it. Off to connect to the slow Internet with lots of gratitude, as I still remember sending a handful of letters instead of this easy blog.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Field Trip to Bali
The cool kids sat at the end of the bus. That’s how it was when we would go on field trips in high school. It was complete chaos, but there was excitement in the air.
This trip, everyone is far beyond high school, and it seems as if everyone is equally cool. There are eighteen of us, including an American trip organizer, a Balinese guide, a driver, and the rest of the yoga practitioners.
The airport was the first delight with great sculptures everywhere, many depicting Hindu Gods. A brand new Suzuki van with no seat belts takes us up the mountains as we head towards Munduk,, as the sun was setting over the two lakes.
Marigold necklaces are draped over our necks, as greeting smiles flower around. Water fountains, lotus ponds, and lush vegetation with beautiful flowers are abundant. The cottage is set up on stilts with a dark wooden balcony, over looking the little pond below hosting calm fish unaware of the expansive rice field’s just meters behind them.
Dinner consisted of a vegetarian sampling. Skewers of tofu in a Balinese sauce, tempeh in something like a BBQ sauce, cabbage in peanut sauce, a sort of latke, and Chrysanthemum tea. Every meal is shared with some other friends from the group, exploring diversity of life experiences, listening to stories, and enjoying others on chill mode. The rice terraces on the hills across from us have heard it all by now.
The next day we explored the property, walking through little temples, rice fields, spice plants, ponds, statues everywhere, and magnificent views of the mountains and villages around. What really makes it wonderful are the details, the smile of a passer-by, the gold fish in the pond, the bamboo mini bridge, the beautiful red flowers draping off huge semi translucent bright green leaves, the sounds of water flowing through streams and in and out of ponds.
We adventured off property and let destiny take our feet through the jungle, passing homes with bird cages holding quiet pretty blue birds, vanilla beans for sale off of someone’s front yard, coffee beans laid down to dry, wandering dogs, and mopeds everywhere. Everyone from young to old is on a moped. All Japanese made.
We took a trip to a coffee and spice plantation and sampled some fox shit coffee. It’s not really a fox, but looks similar. The fox goes out at night, searching for the best coffee beans, it is a very picky animal. It eats the coffee bean, digesting only the skin, and then poops out the bean. Since the fox is so picky this is considered the best bean one can find. We had to try it once, as Wayan our guide told us, “Try it once and that’s it, you don’t want to drink shit twice!” This coffee is sold for $500 in Japan.
After morning yoga and breakfast we head to the beach. We arrive in Pemuteran, at the magnificent resort of Taman Sari Bali Cottages, and really, I would call it no name except the experience of bliss.
What can I say? Heaven is here. I would stay here for a month without blinking. Beautiful grass dotted with flowers, sculptures and Japanese like lanterns. Our room has an amazing outdoor shower surrounded by pebbles, with a huge marble floored porch, a step from the little pond that flows as a stream between the rooms, gold fish, a sculpture fountain, and perfectly organized vegetation surround it. Large Indonesian wood furniture with blue cushions decorated with butterflies sewn on it. The awning is made of perfectly tight tied palm leaves. I’ll stop here as I feel like nothing would portray the amazingness of this place. I tried to take photos but even they do not do justice. The swimming pool by the ocean is wonderful and warm. Everywhere you look there are sculptures or statues, amazing vegetation and water streams.
Off to teach the afternoon session, a Dharma talk, presenting my path, the relationship of Yoga and Zen – Zoga! Stay tuned more coming soon…
Love, D
This trip, everyone is far beyond high school, and it seems as if everyone is equally cool. There are eighteen of us, including an American trip organizer, a Balinese guide, a driver, and the rest of the yoga practitioners.
The airport was the first delight with great sculptures everywhere, many depicting Hindu Gods. A brand new Suzuki van with no seat belts takes us up the mountains as we head towards Munduk,, as the sun was setting over the two lakes.
Marigold necklaces are draped over our necks, as greeting smiles flower around. Water fountains, lotus ponds, and lush vegetation with beautiful flowers are abundant. The cottage is set up on stilts with a dark wooden balcony, over looking the little pond below hosting calm fish unaware of the expansive rice field’s just meters behind them.
Dinner consisted of a vegetarian sampling. Skewers of tofu in a Balinese sauce, tempeh in something like a BBQ sauce, cabbage in peanut sauce, a sort of latke, and Chrysanthemum tea. Every meal is shared with some other friends from the group, exploring diversity of life experiences, listening to stories, and enjoying others on chill mode. The rice terraces on the hills across from us have heard it all by now.
The next day we explored the property, walking through little temples, rice fields, spice plants, ponds, statues everywhere, and magnificent views of the mountains and villages around. What really makes it wonderful are the details, the smile of a passer-by, the gold fish in the pond, the bamboo mini bridge, the beautiful red flowers draping off huge semi translucent bright green leaves, the sounds of water flowing through streams and in and out of ponds.
We adventured off property and let destiny take our feet through the jungle, passing homes with bird cages holding quiet pretty blue birds, vanilla beans for sale off of someone’s front yard, coffee beans laid down to dry, wandering dogs, and mopeds everywhere. Everyone from young to old is on a moped. All Japanese made.
We took a trip to a coffee and spice plantation and sampled some fox shit coffee. It’s not really a fox, but looks similar. The fox goes out at night, searching for the best coffee beans, it is a very picky animal. It eats the coffee bean, digesting only the skin, and then poops out the bean. Since the fox is so picky this is considered the best bean one can find. We had to try it once, as Wayan our guide told us, “Try it once and that’s it, you don’t want to drink shit twice!” This coffee is sold for $500 in Japan.
After morning yoga and breakfast we head to the beach. We arrive in Pemuteran, at the magnificent resort of Taman Sari Bali Cottages, and really, I would call it no name except the experience of bliss.
What can I say? Heaven is here. I would stay here for a month without blinking. Beautiful grass dotted with flowers, sculptures and Japanese like lanterns. Our room has an amazing outdoor shower surrounded by pebbles, with a huge marble floored porch, a step from the little pond that flows as a stream between the rooms, gold fish, a sculpture fountain, and perfectly organized vegetation surround it. Large Indonesian wood furniture with blue cushions decorated with butterflies sewn on it. The awning is made of perfectly tight tied palm leaves. I’ll stop here as I feel like nothing would portray the amazingness of this place. I tried to take photos but even they do not do justice. The swimming pool by the ocean is wonderful and warm. Everywhere you look there are sculptures or statues, amazing vegetation and water streams.
Off to teach the afternoon session, a Dharma talk, presenting my path, the relationship of Yoga and Zen – Zoga! Stay tuned more coming soon…
Love, D
Monday, October 25, 2010
The original sin
She ran towards me naked, wearing a big smile and her crocks. Why not barefoot on the grass I thought? Maybe to make sure her feet don’t get dirty or that she doesn’t step on anything? There was a sense of freedom in her movement. She was liberated and joyful. I heard my name come out of her sweet perfectly created lips. I love the feel of the earth under my feet. Connecting with the energy of the earth, I stepped into the Jacuzzi and she followed, barely making it over, even though she is relatively tall for a three year old.
I recently attended a Baptism class. For the fist time in my life I am honored with the title Godfather. It is not so common in Israel, but since my Goddaughter is Catholic and lives in the bay area, it’s a different story.
“It is with this water that we wash away the original sin’”, explained the priest. He started with describing the temptation of the fruit that was forbidden, and how that led to the awareness of the man and the woman of their being naked.
“God called for man and woman, ‘where are you?’
‘We are hiding’, they replied.
‘And why are you hiding?’ asked God
‘Because we are naked’
‘And how do you know you are naked? Ahh, you must have eaten from the tree’”.
The priest gave us the story in a very easy to understand way. We sat there on simple chairs, a few parents with their babies and a few Godparents to be.
“By washing their original sin, they will be able to go up straight to heaven.”
Oops I thought. Not good being Jewish, I still am wearing that original sin, yet I feel very comfortable naked and love bathing at the Esalen hot springs with only my skin on.
After seeing my niece running so freely naked, completely careless of needing to hide anything, I wonder. Who is it that brings on us the original sin? When is it that Maya will realize that she needs to cover up?
Are we able to relieve ourselves from some of the conditioning we carry and find the liberty of life?
I recently attended a Baptism class. For the fist time in my life I am honored with the title Godfather. It is not so common in Israel, but since my Goddaughter is Catholic and lives in the bay area, it’s a different story.
“It is with this water that we wash away the original sin’”, explained the priest. He started with describing the temptation of the fruit that was forbidden, and how that led to the awareness of the man and the woman of their being naked.
“God called for man and woman, ‘where are you?’
‘We are hiding’, they replied.
‘And why are you hiding?’ asked God
‘Because we are naked’
‘And how do you know you are naked? Ahh, you must have eaten from the tree’”.
The priest gave us the story in a very easy to understand way. We sat there on simple chairs, a few parents with their babies and a few Godparents to be.
“By washing their original sin, they will be able to go up straight to heaven.”
Oops I thought. Not good being Jewish, I still am wearing that original sin, yet I feel very comfortable naked and love bathing at the Esalen hot springs with only my skin on.
After seeing my niece running so freely naked, completely careless of needing to hide anything, I wonder. Who is it that brings on us the original sin? When is it that Maya will realize that she needs to cover up?
Are we able to relieve ourselves from some of the conditioning we carry and find the liberty of life?
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Becoming a citizen
I am officially a member of a political group titled the United States of America.
Just the title: Unites States makes me think…
And the United we stand…
All this unity is a unity of us vs. them. Not a complete unity of all there is.
For years I was waiting to feel welcomed in this country. I moved from a status of a tourist to a status of an extraordinary talent. That title did not keep me from being interrogated every time I passed passport control. Becoming a permanent resident was a huge deal, mostly in forgetting the past. Once I had the green card there was a sense of calmness that came with it, even security. At least I was not going to be thrown away. But now I am IN, I am officially an American; I can choose to say Nationality Israeli or American. Depending on where I am, and which of the two is more disliked. A Canadian passport would probably be more welcomed in some countries. Now when will I be able to walk around with my World Human passport; the passport that declares me as a human being, without any further group belonging, separation of me vs. others, A passport that contains only important info regarding the safety of the country I visit.
The Naturalization ceremony took place in a huge theater. There were hundreds of people listening to some encouraging words, allowing us to feel welcomed and connected to the club. I felt like joining the army. I am here to serve, to protect, and to give up my loyalty to any other nation. Patriotism always scared me. “It’s a good day to die for our country”, said one famous Israeli fighter. And I think it’s a great day to live. Period. Not for a country or for anyone, but just live. When time to die comes, it would be a fine day as well, but not for any country, dying for a country most likely means dying fighting against others.
Then came the moment where a name of country was announced and those from that nationality (or ex nationality) would stand up. So many countries, so many people, now I felt my stomach moving, this is the union, the connection of so many people together. “China” was called, and a huge group came to stand, small countries from Africa, Ethiopia was called, India, and again another huge group comes to stand, Israel, I stand up, I saw another young man stand, tears came to my eyes, not even sure why, but I started feeling the “united we stand”, of how I wish we were all doing this to become members of the universe, a place where all are welcomed to join as long as their intention to be good to themselves and others were sincere.
I now hold an American passport, and for the first time in my life wrote “American’ on the entry document to Mexico. Am I different, has my identity changed? Does it change who I am?
I am grateful to have freedom in this country and wish all humans to have freedom wherever they are, inner freedom as well as freedom related to their society.
Just the title: Unites States makes me think…
And the United we stand…
All this unity is a unity of us vs. them. Not a complete unity of all there is.
For years I was waiting to feel welcomed in this country. I moved from a status of a tourist to a status of an extraordinary talent. That title did not keep me from being interrogated every time I passed passport control. Becoming a permanent resident was a huge deal, mostly in forgetting the past. Once I had the green card there was a sense of calmness that came with it, even security. At least I was not going to be thrown away. But now I am IN, I am officially an American; I can choose to say Nationality Israeli or American. Depending on where I am, and which of the two is more disliked. A Canadian passport would probably be more welcomed in some countries. Now when will I be able to walk around with my World Human passport; the passport that declares me as a human being, without any further group belonging, separation of me vs. others, A passport that contains only important info regarding the safety of the country I visit.
The Naturalization ceremony took place in a huge theater. There were hundreds of people listening to some encouraging words, allowing us to feel welcomed and connected to the club. I felt like joining the army. I am here to serve, to protect, and to give up my loyalty to any other nation. Patriotism always scared me. “It’s a good day to die for our country”, said one famous Israeli fighter. And I think it’s a great day to live. Period. Not for a country or for anyone, but just live. When time to die comes, it would be a fine day as well, but not for any country, dying for a country most likely means dying fighting against others.
Then came the moment where a name of country was announced and those from that nationality (or ex nationality) would stand up. So many countries, so many people, now I felt my stomach moving, this is the union, the connection of so many people together. “China” was called, and a huge group came to stand, small countries from Africa, Ethiopia was called, India, and again another huge group comes to stand, Israel, I stand up, I saw another young man stand, tears came to my eyes, not even sure why, but I started feeling the “united we stand”, of how I wish we were all doing this to become members of the universe, a place where all are welcomed to join as long as their intention to be good to themselves and others were sincere.
I now hold an American passport, and for the first time in my life wrote “American’ on the entry document to Mexico. Am I different, has my identity changed? Does it change who I am?
I am grateful to have freedom in this country and wish all humans to have freedom wherever they are, inner freedom as well as freedom related to their society.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Haramara Mexico Retreat - The Road to Freedom
Walking out of the airport the heat and humidity shower over me, greeting me with some tropical love of last days of the rainy season.
An hour to pass while we wait for a fellow yogini to arrive, what could be better that getting some local flavor. The fish taco place is right across the peeling yellow paint of the metal bridge. The place is like a garage with doors fully open and a wide open welcoming, accompanied by some friendly waiters.
The restaurant is dark even though there are no doors, the old paint on the walls covered with lots of black and white photos of proud fishermen with swordfish as their prize, a TV showing a soccer match with all the waiters looking up at the little figures running around on a semi green grass, after the black and white ball. Time is slower here, and no one seems to be in a rush, but neither are we, so we enjoy the new atmosphere. The waiters were very aware of whatever need we might have, which later, we would find more of, at Haramara. I had a feeling that they really cared, took their position of being in service with utmost respect. When teaching a yoga class I always enter with the same intention. Like an eagle from above, seeing who might need help, what verbal cue may I offer to hint the person in the back to adjust slightly, what gentle touch can I offer to better the experience of the student.
Wiping off constant sweat, I finish the last bite of the finely grilled fish in its wonderful subtle spice sauce.
Returning to the airport, yogini girl’s flight is delayed another hour or so, so we head to the bar to get our first cerveza in Mexico. Well, in reality it was the only one I had, but more than anything it gave a feeling of celebration. At times it is not about what I do, but the intention and how often I do it that springs a sense of celebration. Even the most amazing thing done all the time, over and over again, can lose its charm. Here comes the practice of celebrating the mundane, the every day life, as if anything we do is sacred, a ceremony, as if every time is the first time.
The mini van that took us an hour drive north to Haramara was an American SUV with powerful air conditioning and a mighty driver. It will be a whole week till we step again into the space of controlled weather. Traffic slows down as the bridge we need to cross has collapsed into the river, surrendering to the power of the heavy rains coming down just shortly before our arrival. We shared lanes with the newer bridge, and felt what it was like in the days when there was only one bridge. It is amazing how hard it is to go backwards, to lose comforts that are already gained. If I never had running water, and all I knew was going to the well outside to fetch it, than that would be my life, but if for some months I have the luxury of a tap in my home, then returning to what I had for a much longer time frame would be a total hardship. Same with having a better freeway, and then having it collapse. Nothing lasts forever.
The adventurous driver took us through the shoulders, around road barriers and an inch from a bus, testing the conditioning we have of what proper driving might be. The last bit of road was where the SUV needed to prove itself over mud and some very uneven terrain. When leaving Haramara we would not even recognize the road, as it will be so dry and smooth.
Haramara is built in such a way that that the jungle still gets to rule. Casitas (little bungalows or huts) are planted here in there within the jungle. Since they have large open facades, they are placed away from each other allowing for privacy.
The Jungle at the end of the rainy season intensifies the experience of nature; thousands of colorful crabs would run off the trails as we passed by, flying creators that looked like they came right out of Star Wars would hover in front of me, sending me telepathic messages, neon green grasshoppers resting by my mat, amazing butterflies accompanying me through my walks, and the sounds of fantastic singing birds filling the air as we meditated.
Haramara is built on the mountain slope with the yoga pavilion sitting high up overlooking the jungle and ocean, the beach, dramatic and powerful, with beautiful rocks, and expressive waves.
We started every morning at 7am, dark outside with a weaning moon. Candles lit the pavilion as meditated. During our practice the rising light began to shine and reveal the beauty of the jungle and ocean. Do the trees care if it is dark outside?
Longer yoga practices on retreats are such a delight. I find the 100 minute classes work so much better for me that 90. I could even be greedy and ask for 105.
I surrendered some of my control to Lauren that taught some classes and Kristen that offered us luscious Thai Yoga Massage sessions. It felt good to be a student while a teacher.
The dining room like all the structures combined natural elements with a clean design and a local feel. A large palm leaf roof covered the dining area; a wooden and marble floor support the tables made of wood and leather. Kerosene lamps lit everywhere as the sun was setting between the palm trees over the ocean.
Specialty tortilla chips and jicama juliennes were tools to lift amazing dips. Every night a different bright color would arrive. At first I heard ketchup and mustard from some guests, but soon we found out that it was beets and carrots. The food was creative and delicious, and the best part of it all was getting to know the people. It is such a unique way to learn about different people, their life and heritage, their views and stories. Before long we have created our own stories and toward the end of the week we have had our own past and inside jokes.
The week went by very quickly, leaving a paradise behind, a feeling of love and bliss from the practices and new found friends, bringing a better us to share with the world.
An hour to pass while we wait for a fellow yogini to arrive, what could be better that getting some local flavor. The fish taco place is right across the peeling yellow paint of the metal bridge. The place is like a garage with doors fully open and a wide open welcoming, accompanied by some friendly waiters.
The restaurant is dark even though there are no doors, the old paint on the walls covered with lots of black and white photos of proud fishermen with swordfish as their prize, a TV showing a soccer match with all the waiters looking up at the little figures running around on a semi green grass, after the black and white ball. Time is slower here, and no one seems to be in a rush, but neither are we, so we enjoy the new atmosphere. The waiters were very aware of whatever need we might have, which later, we would find more of, at Haramara. I had a feeling that they really cared, took their position of being in service with utmost respect. When teaching a yoga class I always enter with the same intention. Like an eagle from above, seeing who might need help, what verbal cue may I offer to hint the person in the back to adjust slightly, what gentle touch can I offer to better the experience of the student.
Wiping off constant sweat, I finish the last bite of the finely grilled fish in its wonderful subtle spice sauce.
Returning to the airport, yogini girl’s flight is delayed another hour or so, so we head to the bar to get our first cerveza in Mexico. Well, in reality it was the only one I had, but more than anything it gave a feeling of celebration. At times it is not about what I do, but the intention and how often I do it that springs a sense of celebration. Even the most amazing thing done all the time, over and over again, can lose its charm. Here comes the practice of celebrating the mundane, the every day life, as if anything we do is sacred, a ceremony, as if every time is the first time.
The mini van that took us an hour drive north to Haramara was an American SUV with powerful air conditioning and a mighty driver. It will be a whole week till we step again into the space of controlled weather. Traffic slows down as the bridge we need to cross has collapsed into the river, surrendering to the power of the heavy rains coming down just shortly before our arrival. We shared lanes with the newer bridge, and felt what it was like in the days when there was only one bridge. It is amazing how hard it is to go backwards, to lose comforts that are already gained. If I never had running water, and all I knew was going to the well outside to fetch it, than that would be my life, but if for some months I have the luxury of a tap in my home, then returning to what I had for a much longer time frame would be a total hardship. Same with having a better freeway, and then having it collapse. Nothing lasts forever.
The adventurous driver took us through the shoulders, around road barriers and an inch from a bus, testing the conditioning we have of what proper driving might be. The last bit of road was where the SUV needed to prove itself over mud and some very uneven terrain. When leaving Haramara we would not even recognize the road, as it will be so dry and smooth.
Haramara is built in such a way that that the jungle still gets to rule. Casitas (little bungalows or huts) are planted here in there within the jungle. Since they have large open facades, they are placed away from each other allowing for privacy.
The Jungle at the end of the rainy season intensifies the experience of nature; thousands of colorful crabs would run off the trails as we passed by, flying creators that looked like they came right out of Star Wars would hover in front of me, sending me telepathic messages, neon green grasshoppers resting by my mat, amazing butterflies accompanying me through my walks, and the sounds of fantastic singing birds filling the air as we meditated.
Haramara is built on the mountain slope with the yoga pavilion sitting high up overlooking the jungle and ocean, the beach, dramatic and powerful, with beautiful rocks, and expressive waves.
We started every morning at 7am, dark outside with a weaning moon. Candles lit the pavilion as meditated. During our practice the rising light began to shine and reveal the beauty of the jungle and ocean. Do the trees care if it is dark outside?
Longer yoga practices on retreats are such a delight. I find the 100 minute classes work so much better for me that 90. I could even be greedy and ask for 105.
I surrendered some of my control to Lauren that taught some classes and Kristen that offered us luscious Thai Yoga Massage sessions. It felt good to be a student while a teacher.
The dining room like all the structures combined natural elements with a clean design and a local feel. A large palm leaf roof covered the dining area; a wooden and marble floor support the tables made of wood and leather. Kerosene lamps lit everywhere as the sun was setting between the palm trees over the ocean.
Specialty tortilla chips and jicama juliennes were tools to lift amazing dips. Every night a different bright color would arrive. At first I heard ketchup and mustard from some guests, but soon we found out that it was beets and carrots. The food was creative and delicious, and the best part of it all was getting to know the people. It is such a unique way to learn about different people, their life and heritage, their views and stories. Before long we have created our own stories and toward the end of the week we have had our own past and inside jokes.
The week went by very quickly, leaving a paradise behind, a feeling of love and bliss from the practices and new found friends, bringing a better us to share with the world.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Internal clean up / The art for forgiveness
I sit with my eyes closed, and bring to my attention relationships, old and new. I observe what comes up. Sometimes it’s just a simple encounter I had with a person I didn’t even know, such as while driving; they wanted to get into my lane, but I was in a hurry and didn’t let them in. I realize that I still carry this with me, maybe I still feel bad about it, I am not sure, but it came up. So today I clean up. I say I apologize with my full intention and let it go. Learning my lesson to be more generous next time, I smile with gratitude at this lesson and move on.
Maybe there are relationships with people that come up that have a greater significance to you, a partner, parent, sibling or friend. You know if there were certain things left unclear. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling, or maybe it just feels that there is something always present underneath when we meet them. Begin by setting an intention in the mind and then go take action. Even if it is a year old, it is never too late to send a note, give a call or best of all say it in person.
Be honest, it might be that they are still hurt from something you said five years ago, but you keep to your self as you “know” you were right, and are waiting for them to take action. It’s not about calculating who was right, not about bringing back old frictions, but about being intelligent, kind and compassionate, maybe even being selfish. You need to clean this out of your head; it will do you and them good. Just imagine that feeling of lightness, of clarity that will come in instead. Wear a smile, bring flowers if needed, bake some healthy morning glory muffins, and off you go.
In the Jewish tradition there is a Day of Atonement (Yum Kippur). Once a year, people wear white, go to temple, and ask forgiveness. You don’t need to wait for a special day. It does not have to be spring for cleaning. Do this periodically, every time you find something comes up, and remember, It’s not about being right, it’s about moving on, showing you power through surrendering, with no need to prove anything. Peace is up to you and me in our little actions.
Maybe there are relationships with people that come up that have a greater significance to you, a partner, parent, sibling or friend. You know if there were certain things left unclear. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling, or maybe it just feels that there is something always present underneath when we meet them. Begin by setting an intention in the mind and then go take action. Even if it is a year old, it is never too late to send a note, give a call or best of all say it in person.
Be honest, it might be that they are still hurt from something you said five years ago, but you keep to your self as you “know” you were right, and are waiting for them to take action. It’s not about calculating who was right, not about bringing back old frictions, but about being intelligent, kind and compassionate, maybe even being selfish. You need to clean this out of your head; it will do you and them good. Just imagine that feeling of lightness, of clarity that will come in instead. Wear a smile, bring flowers if needed, bake some healthy morning glory muffins, and off you go.
In the Jewish tradition there is a Day of Atonement (Yum Kippur). Once a year, people wear white, go to temple, and ask forgiveness. You don’t need to wait for a special day. It does not have to be spring for cleaning. Do this periodically, every time you find something comes up, and remember, It’s not about being right, it’s about moving on, showing you power through surrendering, with no need to prove anything. Peace is up to you and me in our little actions.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Vancouver
The ship approached the city, and I could already see the skyscrapers. Sitting on the 14th floor buffet deck, with huge glass all around, it as surreal to move slowly into the dock. I stayed still as the ship moved from isolated nature into a big city hub. After all this nature it was a bit of a surprise. As if I expected another small Alaskan town, with wooden buildings and gift shops. Instead Glass and steal stood proud. Buildings were Beautiful, with lots of interesting architecture. The buildings were not too crowded and had their share of greenery.
We stayed in the downtown area, felt like being back to NY, just much cleaner and with extra green. People were nicely dressed, girls were feminine with style, not anything too avanguard, but with care. I think I’ve been too used to the casual bay area, to flip flops and shorts. I was pleased for the change, enjoying some fashion in the air, a combination of the US with Europe.
We walked to Stanley Park, the central park of Vancouver, and enjoyed the park surrounded by water, views of the green “golden gate wanna be” bridge and a totem park. I seem to have a fascination with the totem poles. I love woodwork, the animal figures, the tall and thin structures, and wings. Something about their simplicity, a sense of power carved out of a tree trunk.
English bay was a long stretch of beach with some grassy areas along it, people getting some sun, chatting, having a picnic, or like us, just people watching. Still comparing to NY, I thought of Battery Park on the weekend, just that this was a Monday! I guess it was sunny enough that it was a reason to declare holiday. We loved the sun, but in reality it was 21c, and that was one of the warmest days in the year. If only there were more of these days a year, I would really consider moving up there.
We strolled down Robson Street, and felt a bit like in the Soho. OK, I do prefer the Soho in NY by far, but it was a good wash for the eyes. Stores, boutiques and people excited about their shopping. Bought nothing, but enjoyed being the observer.
Vancouver is filled with great restaurants, and in the eve we were delighted to dine at a fusion tapas place. The tapas were like a mini buffet; I still got a variety of tastes all served to the table, in fun trio platters.
The next day we went to Granville. We took it easy, acted like locals, shopped at the market, ate over the water, wondered the shops and streets, and listened to some of the street performers. We saw the classic Chinese garden in China town; the garden allows me to surrender. I love the style. No flowers, lots of rocks, trees, like ginkgo, pine and maple, and architecture that blend in as part of the grand scheme. Not huge, but everything has its place, all blends into one harmony of yin and yang.
Chine town is always a place I like to pass through, if only to get a good meal. Some sticky rice cakes filled with black bean paste arrive steaming out of the bamboo steamers, round and sturdy. A great rice noodle soup with veggies and a real dark thick soy sauce, such a difference from the Japanese version. The flavor is rich and consistency is syrupy.
We stroll down Gastown, along the cobble stone streets, shops are cool, and it’s where the town started, probably not as cool back then, but truly lovely these days; flowers over old lampposts, a steam clock, and tourists. What can you do? We all want to find the quaint spots of town. The view from the look out tower down the road was nice, getting an eagle view of the city towards sunset, to complete the day. The next day we visited the Vancouver Gallery and saw some local art as well as some modern art, bringing me back the itch to create.
Vancouver is a fantastic city, and the people seemed to be very kind and nice. Worth the visit!
We stayed in the downtown area, felt like being back to NY, just much cleaner and with extra green. People were nicely dressed, girls were feminine with style, not anything too avanguard, but with care. I think I’ve been too used to the casual bay area, to flip flops and shorts. I was pleased for the change, enjoying some fashion in the air, a combination of the US with Europe.
We walked to Stanley Park, the central park of Vancouver, and enjoyed the park surrounded by water, views of the green “golden gate wanna be” bridge and a totem park. I seem to have a fascination with the totem poles. I love woodwork, the animal figures, the tall and thin structures, and wings. Something about their simplicity, a sense of power carved out of a tree trunk.
English bay was a long stretch of beach with some grassy areas along it, people getting some sun, chatting, having a picnic, or like us, just people watching. Still comparing to NY, I thought of Battery Park on the weekend, just that this was a Monday! I guess it was sunny enough that it was a reason to declare holiday. We loved the sun, but in reality it was 21c, and that was one of the warmest days in the year. If only there were more of these days a year, I would really consider moving up there.
We strolled down Robson Street, and felt a bit like in the Soho. OK, I do prefer the Soho in NY by far, but it was a good wash for the eyes. Stores, boutiques and people excited about their shopping. Bought nothing, but enjoyed being the observer.
Vancouver is filled with great restaurants, and in the eve we were delighted to dine at a fusion tapas place. The tapas were like a mini buffet; I still got a variety of tastes all served to the table, in fun trio platters.
The next day we went to Granville. We took it easy, acted like locals, shopped at the market, ate over the water, wondered the shops and streets, and listened to some of the street performers. We saw the classic Chinese garden in China town; the garden allows me to surrender. I love the style. No flowers, lots of rocks, trees, like ginkgo, pine and maple, and architecture that blend in as part of the grand scheme. Not huge, but everything has its place, all blends into one harmony of yin and yang.
Chine town is always a place I like to pass through, if only to get a good meal. Some sticky rice cakes filled with black bean paste arrive steaming out of the bamboo steamers, round and sturdy. A great rice noodle soup with veggies and a real dark thick soy sauce, such a difference from the Japanese version. The flavor is rich and consistency is syrupy.
We stroll down Gastown, along the cobble stone streets, shops are cool, and it’s where the town started, probably not as cool back then, but truly lovely these days; flowers over old lampposts, a steam clock, and tourists. What can you do? We all want to find the quaint spots of town. The view from the look out tower down the road was nice, getting an eagle view of the city towards sunset, to complete the day. The next day we visited the Vancouver Gallery and saw some local art as well as some modern art, bringing me back the itch to create.
Vancouver is a fantastic city, and the people seemed to be very kind and nice. Worth the visit!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Princess Alaska Cruise down the Inside Passage
Alaska,
Our first encounter with Alaska was the sweet Taxi driver that picked us up at the Anchorage airport. He did not have much hair on his head, but did have facial hair, a beard. Soon we would notice that many people around here have facial hair, well, the men, that is, especially mustaches. He gave us lots of info on where to go. Start with 4th Ave, its like the old town, with some bars, lots of fur shops, some gift shops, and other stores that sold huge boots and super thick socks, a weird feeling of being in a cold wild west.
This trip was with my Mom Sara, her relatively new boyfriend, Shalom that I met for the first time and Lauren. Hmmm, my Mom with another man, also the first time for me.
We walked through the Weekend market, where more furs and animal skins appeared. The claws of the wolf, reaching the floor, its teeth showing, eyes in place, just the meat missing. I do hope someone enjoyed the other parts as well. The antlers of other animals turned into sculptures, mostly eagle like, some more fur coats and lots of Alaska T shirts and caps, along side the famous Ulu knives, crescent in shape with a wooden handle. Very alluring, some even came with specific cutting boards. We did buy one later on in Ketchikan, but had to give it away as I completely forgot it was in my carry on.” I will dispose of it for you at no charge” said the security man at the airport, making sure I fell like he is doing me a favor…
Food, well, that is always one of the first things I explore, it does reveal much about the place, people and culture. Fish and seafood was for sure what I was looking for.
At the markets there were lots of deep fried fish, with some fried onion rings and some more deep fried fish, and a few fish chowders as well. Meet was abundant as well, including Elk and Reindeer. We found a restaurant that seemed busy and ordered. A big crab salad with hard-boiled eggs, cucumbers and actual real mixed greens, a big portion of Salmon with some boiled potatoes. Food was good, felt fresh. I did not seem to wonder if the crab was imitation or not. I had a feeling I will not suffer from lack of omega 3 on this trip. Around us we saw lots and lots of crab legs, huge plates. Even the few that ordered steaks got steaks that were a much larger size that I have seen before. No doubt that animals are the main sustenance in this part of the world.
The museum of Anchorage was a delight. Beautifully done, with lots of info on how the natives lived and live here. Too bad it takes so long to realize how much the new comers did to destroy and change the locals as they took over the land, and finally to try and restore some of the original cultural beauty that was here. The resilience of the people sure kept amazing me, how they managed to live here for so many generations, under such extreme weather conditions, before all the new technologies arrived. So much of survival was dependent on community. The more technology advanced the more communities, and personal encounters seem to vanish. Communities turn into online friendships. Now that I have over 800 friends on facebook, does it mean that I have a great community life? Or is my community, my computer and myself? Will my community help me when needed, can I ask for a hug?
After the museum we took the coach to Whittier where the grand ship awaited. It seemed huge to me, even though I was told it’s not the biggest one out there; 2300 passengers and 800 crew members. We pass a passport control and then on to the ship. 14 or even 16 levels if you count the upper decks. Maybe more down below that as a guest I had no access too. Elevators, dining rooms, casino, shops, theater, bars…can you tell I was shocked? That it is my first time?
We sailed off (with no sails) in the afternoon.
The cruise was a delight. No cell phones, I checked email only once, constant food, a little gym, grand amusement, which was pretty good with lots of fun dancers and music, movies, sushi and desert buffets, tons of Alaskan food, (fish that is), and all this is before we even got off the ship to explore.
Maybe because this was an Alaskan cruise I loved it so much. The crowd was mostly older, a few teens, but not many children or people in their twenties. That led to a relative quiet journey. Lots of time to sit in front of the floor to ceiling glass right over the ocean, walks around the open deck on the 7th level, and even shows that involved a bit more music from the 60-80’s…(hmm, starting to feel old). Don’t get me wrong, I was totally up for a super amazing dance party with some house and trance, and I love people in their twenties, but it was still nice to be on a ship where it was not all about getting drunk, and that the atmosphere was pretty calm and smooth.
The cruise was going through the Inside Passage, a passage of water that goes between the main land and huge long islands, absolutely magnificent. Even when we were just on our way to places, we passed along the vast ocean, nice mountains, and lots of snowy peaks, glaciers, sunsets, and forests.
We stopped at Glacier Bay, to see huge bluish glaciers pretty close, learned about their formation and saw maps of what it was like before. Global warming is real! We continued to Skagway, a little town that inflates dramatically in the summer. We got to understand the White Pass, learn a lot about the gold rush days (that were actually very short lived in this area), see a black bear (cinnamon really), and amazing nature. Water falls, streams that change their color according to the source of the water (glacier or spring water), a one sided hanging bridge to allow the other side to move as the earth moves, and watch the picturesque train ride along the mountain, seemingly a toy train.
Juneau, the capital was a much bigger town, but still small enough to wonder around by foot. We went on a whale watching tour after my mom insisted, “Shalom really wants to see whales”. It is true; we did not see that many whales or adventurous wild life from the huge boat. Mostly we saw it when taking excursions. We were fortunate enough to enjoy seeing these magnificent creatures in the wild.
In Ketchikan we wondered though the famous creek road, saw lots of totem poles, and enjoyed seeing enormous amounts of Salmons everywhere (swimming that is).
Really I want to mention again the food on the boat, as it was such a big part of the cruise. The buffet was so abundant and so rich with options that it’s just hard to return to normal life. The formal dining room was a 5 star level, amazing food, but of course less options. I love giving options in my yoga class and love options in my food.
We concluded our trip in Vancouver, and I’ll save that for my next entry.
Hope you enjoyed the cruise and please join us again on the Island princess where the food is awesome and the dancers a delight.
Our first encounter with Alaska was the sweet Taxi driver that picked us up at the Anchorage airport. He did not have much hair on his head, but did have facial hair, a beard. Soon we would notice that many people around here have facial hair, well, the men, that is, especially mustaches. He gave us lots of info on where to go. Start with 4th Ave, its like the old town, with some bars, lots of fur shops, some gift shops, and other stores that sold huge boots and super thick socks, a weird feeling of being in a cold wild west.
This trip was with my Mom Sara, her relatively new boyfriend, Shalom that I met for the first time and Lauren. Hmmm, my Mom with another man, also the first time for me.
We walked through the Weekend market, where more furs and animal skins appeared. The claws of the wolf, reaching the floor, its teeth showing, eyes in place, just the meat missing. I do hope someone enjoyed the other parts as well. The antlers of other animals turned into sculptures, mostly eagle like, some more fur coats and lots of Alaska T shirts and caps, along side the famous Ulu knives, crescent in shape with a wooden handle. Very alluring, some even came with specific cutting boards. We did buy one later on in Ketchikan, but had to give it away as I completely forgot it was in my carry on.” I will dispose of it for you at no charge” said the security man at the airport, making sure I fell like he is doing me a favor…
Food, well, that is always one of the first things I explore, it does reveal much about the place, people and culture. Fish and seafood was for sure what I was looking for.
At the markets there were lots of deep fried fish, with some fried onion rings and some more deep fried fish, and a few fish chowders as well. Meet was abundant as well, including Elk and Reindeer. We found a restaurant that seemed busy and ordered. A big crab salad with hard-boiled eggs, cucumbers and actual real mixed greens, a big portion of Salmon with some boiled potatoes. Food was good, felt fresh. I did not seem to wonder if the crab was imitation or not. I had a feeling I will not suffer from lack of omega 3 on this trip. Around us we saw lots and lots of crab legs, huge plates. Even the few that ordered steaks got steaks that were a much larger size that I have seen before. No doubt that animals are the main sustenance in this part of the world.
The museum of Anchorage was a delight. Beautifully done, with lots of info on how the natives lived and live here. Too bad it takes so long to realize how much the new comers did to destroy and change the locals as they took over the land, and finally to try and restore some of the original cultural beauty that was here. The resilience of the people sure kept amazing me, how they managed to live here for so many generations, under such extreme weather conditions, before all the new technologies arrived. So much of survival was dependent on community. The more technology advanced the more communities, and personal encounters seem to vanish. Communities turn into online friendships. Now that I have over 800 friends on facebook, does it mean that I have a great community life? Or is my community, my computer and myself? Will my community help me when needed, can I ask for a hug?
After the museum we took the coach to Whittier where the grand ship awaited. It seemed huge to me, even though I was told it’s not the biggest one out there; 2300 passengers and 800 crew members. We pass a passport control and then on to the ship. 14 or even 16 levels if you count the upper decks. Maybe more down below that as a guest I had no access too. Elevators, dining rooms, casino, shops, theater, bars…can you tell I was shocked? That it is my first time?
We sailed off (with no sails) in the afternoon.
The cruise was a delight. No cell phones, I checked email only once, constant food, a little gym, grand amusement, which was pretty good with lots of fun dancers and music, movies, sushi and desert buffets, tons of Alaskan food, (fish that is), and all this is before we even got off the ship to explore.
Maybe because this was an Alaskan cruise I loved it so much. The crowd was mostly older, a few teens, but not many children or people in their twenties. That led to a relative quiet journey. Lots of time to sit in front of the floor to ceiling glass right over the ocean, walks around the open deck on the 7th level, and even shows that involved a bit more music from the 60-80’s…(hmm, starting to feel old). Don’t get me wrong, I was totally up for a super amazing dance party with some house and trance, and I love people in their twenties, but it was still nice to be on a ship where it was not all about getting drunk, and that the atmosphere was pretty calm and smooth.
The cruise was going through the Inside Passage, a passage of water that goes between the main land and huge long islands, absolutely magnificent. Even when we were just on our way to places, we passed along the vast ocean, nice mountains, and lots of snowy peaks, glaciers, sunsets, and forests.
We stopped at Glacier Bay, to see huge bluish glaciers pretty close, learned about their formation and saw maps of what it was like before. Global warming is real! We continued to Skagway, a little town that inflates dramatically in the summer. We got to understand the White Pass, learn a lot about the gold rush days (that were actually very short lived in this area), see a black bear (cinnamon really), and amazing nature. Water falls, streams that change their color according to the source of the water (glacier or spring water), a one sided hanging bridge to allow the other side to move as the earth moves, and watch the picturesque train ride along the mountain, seemingly a toy train.
Juneau, the capital was a much bigger town, but still small enough to wonder around by foot. We went on a whale watching tour after my mom insisted, “Shalom really wants to see whales”. It is true; we did not see that many whales or adventurous wild life from the huge boat. Mostly we saw it when taking excursions. We were fortunate enough to enjoy seeing these magnificent creatures in the wild.
In Ketchikan we wondered though the famous creek road, saw lots of totem poles, and enjoyed seeing enormous amounts of Salmons everywhere (swimming that is).
Really I want to mention again the food on the boat, as it was such a big part of the cruise. The buffet was so abundant and so rich with options that it’s just hard to return to normal life. The formal dining room was a 5 star level, amazing food, but of course less options. I love giving options in my yoga class and love options in my food.
We concluded our trip in Vancouver, and I’ll save that for my next entry.
Hope you enjoyed the cruise and please join us again on the Island princess where the food is awesome and the dancers a delight.
Friday, April 2, 2010
posts on my website
Beyond the Blog entries you find here, you can find articles related to food yoga,health and philosophy on my website www.doronhanoch.com under the Articles link. Feel free to check it out and sign up to my newsletter.
Love, Doron
Love, Doron
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
My life since 2009 in brief
It has been long, way too long since I took the pen to write down my happenings. Maybe it was happening too fast, maybe it was the sense of domestication that left me no adventure to write even thou my life was surely full of news and local adventures.
Last I wrote about my personal life it was about my early experiences living in Palo Alto and teaching Ashtanga Mysore style yoga. The 3 months planned for me, turned into six. Summer here was fantastic. I spend much time reading out in my garden, teaching and practicing yoga. I was cooking a lot, but had little social encounters. It was like living in a cave within the great forest of modern life.
Since March my biggest encounter was with Kate that shared with me a great deal of time, love and philosophical discussions. I balanced our great talks with some Harry potter reading (got through the fourth book). Beyond my close family of Gil Debbie and Maya, she has been ears and eyes to the simple living of my soul.
Summer ended with leading a retreat to Esalen and then a trip to Israel. The Esalen retreat is a lot of work, but grants me satisfaction and learning beyond measure. My time in Israel as usual has a sense of nostalgic love, like reconnecting with an ex girlfriend for a period even though we know it will not last. When connecting with friends in Israel. It feels like we have just met a few days ago. Indeed much changes, but the core care and spirit of joyful connection never fades away.
As I returned to Palo Alto, opportunities opened up, and I took on some teaching adventures. I found myself skipping from studio to studio, teaching yoga. Accepting that I now live in CA, I have surrendered to buying a car. Mazda 3 hatchback fit my profile, dark grey or silver of course. I found a splendid dark grey with pumpkin orange leather seats to match. I smile every time I enter the car.
My passion for dance has continued and apart from Dancing 5 rhythms in Mountain View every Monday, I have given birth to Zen Dance; a beautiful space for self-exploration of body and beyond, of movement leading into the stillness of mind in meditation.
My initial sense of joy and gratitude towards all that came my way was tainted with some loneliness. Before long, Lauren came into my life. After one month of finding out that she surely is not for me, tables have turned and in no time she was staying with me regularly. So much so that for Christmas I flew down to meet part of her family and since then she has moved in. My urge to walk away and find my quiet solitude space for my continued self-development has overcome with a self of commitment to another being. Not only has Lauren moved in, and I was not about to let her find a place a month later, but I have discovered a partner, someone that is willing to join my journey and live life as oddly as it may get in the venture to find truth. I am full of gratitude for Lauren’s transformation and willingness to join in. I find that not only do we dive deeper into a commitment to live a life of complete meaning and truth, but we have also found endless laugh out loud moments. It is the life of a happy baby with a developed conscience we have taken on.
January 2010 has arrived, and with it another retreat to Esalen. No doubt I have found my calling. My life as a teacher has never been more rewarding. It has demanded of me to set an example even more so than ever before. The more I live the life I teach, the better my life becomes and the better my teachings are.
I am grateful for all those that walk with me this walk of life. Some of you I see regularly and talk to often, and some I carry in my heart and thought. I do value this connection that exists between us, even if it is unspoken of.
As 2010 arrives I can fully repeat what I say every year, this is the best year of my life!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Sleep Hygiene or tips for a good night sleep:
A good night sleep is the secret to a happy productive next day. It is the time our body takes to restore and rejuvenate. Our night depends on the day we had, and the next day depends on how well our previous night was.
Sleep well, wake up smiling. Have a blissful life!
Here are some tips:
- · Go to sleep when you feel sleepy
- · If you do not fall asleep within 30 min, get up, do something that will induce sleep and then return to bed.
- · Create a routine: Go to bed and wake up at the same time
- · Go to bed before 10:30 p.m. According to Ayurveda after 10pm we begin a new cycle of energy. This is an energetic cycle, where we sometimes feel that we get a second wind.
- · Exercising is healthy, and useful for a good night sleep, but timing is key. Finish your exercise at least 4 hours before bedtime. Mornings and early afternoons are best.
- · Make your bedroom a sanctuary. Keep it clean and inviting. Soft light, quiet and relaxing.
- · Use your bed for sleeping only. Read, work, watch TV and fold laundry elsewhere. This way your body will recognize that being in bed means sleep. Sex is the only exception.
- · Avoid Caffeine, nicotine and alcohol 5 hours before bedtime.
- · Drink during the day, so you do need to drink much at night, and do not need to get up for the toilet in your sleep time.
- · Take a hot bath an hour before bed. The drop in body temperature is what makes you feel sleepy.
- · Develop bedtime routines. Listen to quiet music, sit silently, read something calming, or massage your body with oil.
- · Eat dinner at least 2-3 hours before bed. If you are hungry later, have a light snack, unsweetened cereal with a bit of organic milk, or a bit of warm milk with a touch of honey.
- · Do not turn on lights during the night, even if you have to go to the bathroom. Light exposure during the night impairs melatonin production, which is crucial for good night sleep.
- · See the sun as soon as it’s up, to set your biological clock.
- · Take Melatonin for a few weeks, and then let it go. (2-3mg 30-45 min before bedtime
- · Magnesium (500mg 30-45 min before bedtime)
Sleep well, wake up smiling. Have a blissful life!
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Organic
Eating Organic for a better you and a better world
Eating organic simply means eating the way nature intended food to be. It is the way the world ate for centuries. The more recent style of production is referred to as "conventional," though organic production has been the convention for a much greater period of time. There was never a need to label food as organic until we stated producing toxic food.
It would make more sense to label food as toxic, including a list of pesticides and other chemicals used to grow the food, rather than need to label normal food as "organic."
When buying organic you make sure that your food does not have enormous amounts of pesticides, has no hormones or antibiotics and is respectful for the earth and environment.
Organic is better for you because you receive:
• Better tasting food. Better nourishment for the soil, goes into the plant and ends on our plate, revealing better flavor.
• Much higher nutrition levels (up to 19 times than non-organic).
• Healthier food. Save yourself from all the possible sicknesses and problems that chemicals, hormones and antibiotics might cause. A 1987 National Academy of Sciences report estimated that pesticides might cause an extra 4 million cancer cases among Americans. In addition to cancer, pesticides are implicated in birth defects, nerve damage and genetic mutations. The EPA considers 60 percent of all herbicides, 90 percent of all fungicides and 30 percent of all insecticides carcinogenic.
• Look for the “9”. The product number on the sticker on the produce has to begin with a 9 if it is organic.
Organic farms are better for the planet:
• Non-organic food farms suffer from the worst soil erosion in history.
• Protect water quality. Ground water is contaminated with pesticides (some cancer causing) in 38 states, the main source of drinking water for more than half of the country’s population.
• Modern farming uses more petroleum than any other single industry, consuming 12 percent of the country’s totally energy supply. Organic farming is still based on hard human work, from weeding to green manure and cover crops, instead of synthetic fertilizers.
• Most organic farms today are still small and family owned.
• Support a healthy economy. Even though organic might seem more expensive, in reality, it costs more to produce non-organic food (when you include pesticide regulation and testing, hazardous waste disposal and cleanup, and environmental damage including estimated $74 billion annually in federal subsidies).
• Some food is GMO (Genetically modified), i.e. a lab-invented food. Most common GMO food is soy, corn and canola. This food has fewer nutrients, less flavor and is heavily sprayed. A food that is only good to the pocket of its inventors. Buying organic ensures you dot not get GMO food. Anecdote: I went to a big chain supermarket to buy tomatoes. They did not have organic, so I asked the kind employee if he knows how good these tomatoes are. Many times a farm is in process of becoming organic, or does not spray, but is too small to pay for the organic certification. He highly recommended the tomatoes. He said they are great and can last for at least 2 weeks. Hmmm, I thought, how can that be? Ah, he said. They are made with pig genes in them so they can withstand heavy spraying and will not perish easily. So for all of you that eat Kosher or Halal, watch out! You might be a eating a sinful tomato!
For more information visit:
www.ccof.org
www.organic.org
http://www.organicconsumers.org/
Eating organic simply means eating the way nature intended food to be. It is the way the world ate for centuries. The more recent style of production is referred to as "conventional," though organic production has been the convention for a much greater period of time. There was never a need to label food as organic until we stated producing toxic food.
It would make more sense to label food as toxic, including a list of pesticides and other chemicals used to grow the food, rather than need to label normal food as "organic."
When buying organic you make sure that your food does not have enormous amounts of pesticides, has no hormones or antibiotics and is respectful for the earth and environment.
Organic is better for you because you receive:
• Better tasting food. Better nourishment for the soil, goes into the plant and ends on our plate, revealing better flavor.
• Much higher nutrition levels (up to 19 times than non-organic).
• Healthier food. Save yourself from all the possible sicknesses and problems that chemicals, hormones and antibiotics might cause. A 1987 National Academy of Sciences report estimated that pesticides might cause an extra 4 million cancer cases among Americans. In addition to cancer, pesticides are implicated in birth defects, nerve damage and genetic mutations. The EPA considers 60 percent of all herbicides, 90 percent of all fungicides and 30 percent of all insecticides carcinogenic.
• Look for the “9”. The product number on the sticker on the produce has to begin with a 9 if it is organic.
Organic farms are better for the planet:
• Non-organic food farms suffer from the worst soil erosion in history.
• Protect water quality. Ground water is contaminated with pesticides (some cancer causing) in 38 states, the main source of drinking water for more than half of the country’s population.
• Modern farming uses more petroleum than any other single industry, consuming 12 percent of the country’s totally energy supply. Organic farming is still based on hard human work, from weeding to green manure and cover crops, instead of synthetic fertilizers.
• Most organic farms today are still small and family owned.
• Support a healthy economy. Even though organic might seem more expensive, in reality, it costs more to produce non-organic food (when you include pesticide regulation and testing, hazardous waste disposal and cleanup, and environmental damage including estimated $74 billion annually in federal subsidies).
• Some food is GMO (Genetically modified), i.e. a lab-invented food. Most common GMO food is soy, corn and canola. This food has fewer nutrients, less flavor and is heavily sprayed. A food that is only good to the pocket of its inventors. Buying organic ensures you dot not get GMO food. Anecdote: I went to a big chain supermarket to buy tomatoes. They did not have organic, so I asked the kind employee if he knows how good these tomatoes are. Many times a farm is in process of becoming organic, or does not spray, but is too small to pay for the organic certification. He highly recommended the tomatoes. He said they are great and can last for at least 2 weeks. Hmmm, I thought, how can that be? Ah, he said. They are made with pig genes in them so they can withstand heavy spraying and will not perish easily. So for all of you that eat Kosher or Halal, watch out! You might be a eating a sinful tomato!
For more information visit:
www.ccof.org
www.organic.org
http://www.organicconsumers.org/
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