SICK

I've been sick. I've definitely been sick in Thailand. It ironically happened for the first time when I left Thailand and went to Malaysia for a visa run. I don't know what I ate. Was it the three nights of Indian food, the Thai food, or just too much beer? My stomach hurt for a few days and it wasn't enjoyable returning on a flight from Malaysia to Bangkok with the fear of the "unknown below". I survived it and then I got sick again. The second time was worse. I don't know where it came from, an apple, a carrot, ironically the healthy foods that I probably neglected to wash. I know my family is laughing as they see the words "apple" and "carrot", two words that are always included in Amber's daily nutrition. Well, not so much anymore. My stomach was bad and I felt nauseous, this time for five days. Again, though, I survived.

This time, this one, isn't sickness but it has some similarities to stomach viruses: its one that keeps you down with your legs up. I seem to have torn a ligament or sprained an ankle. I decided to try a hard problem at the local climbing gym and as I fell, which I inevitably would, I fell between the mats, therefore hitting the hard concrete floor. I landed on my right ankle which turned 90 degrees to towards my left ankle upon landing. I was scared when I landed. I expected to see my ankle dangling, because I felt the crack. My fellow climbers helped me, we elevated my ankle and iced it and everyone told their own similar injury stories. The climbing gym had crutches and I hobbled home on the back of my friends motor bike and iced my massive ankle. The next day I awoke and it hadn't grown (or shrunk) but I felt positive about all of it. I decided, since I had insurance, to go to the hospital and get an x-ray, for peace of mind, for some expertise on the matter. I went there, and waited and was told that I hadn't broken it, rather probably torn a ligament (he didn't know for sure, the only way you can tell if you tore a ligament is through an MRI, which I didn't get). Anyways, he, the doctor proceeded to say to me: Well, do you want a cast?. I responded with, "I don't know sir, you are the doctor, what do you think I should do? I just want the best and fastest solution." So, he put a cast on it. But not just on my ankle, on my whole right leg and said "two weeks, come back".


Yeah,three days have passed and I going back tomorrow and I am getting that cast removed. Others, not doctors, just experienced fellow injurerers have told me that a cast is only necessary for a broken bone, so yeah, not broken. It is ironic to think about the fact that doctors don't know everything. I don't know this doctors logic, perhaps I am wrong and my ankle will be dangling when I remove the cast, but I have a feeling on this one that the old Thai doc is wrong.

I went back to the hospital this morning with one of the directors at the school who speaks English and Thai. She was my translator. I saw the doctor again and he wasn't happy with me, I am sure that I insulted him and he probably said many Thai swear words under his breath. But, I got removed anyways and got a removable brace for support. Here is my ankle now. wish me luck that it will get better!!! Because I don't want to have to go back to the doctors and hear: "I told you so", oh well, I don't know how to say that in Thai anyways. I just followed my gut and others with experience on this one. Medicine is such a strange thing. We depend so much on it yet it has faults as well. I just want my ankle to get better.

Yoga

There has been so much talk about yoga. On my 8th day of being in Chiang Mai I finally decided to attend a class. I wasn't in a good space and I thought that perhaps yoga would help me find one. I remember the class vividly even though it has now been five weeks since I have been here. The instructor talked about transitions: their difficulty, our resistance to them, and the fact that transitions are a part of life. I had been struggling with being here, and like always, accepting my new status in life: without a husband, without children, without a mother, without friends in Chiang Mai--shit, that's depressing. I knew I had to go and I went and I hope my will to go and the fact that the class was on transitions is a sign towards my intent to transition...



Just finished a yoga class. I don't know if your day can follow a theme but mine definitely has today. I woke up with a strong desire to wear the necklace that my wonderful friend Mel had made for me. It is the foundation image, with the silver tree glowing. Then, I attended yoga class. my favorite teacher Sandrine (I often call Francine, by mistake, because she is from France) started the days practice by reading an excerpt about life and, of course, embracing the moment. Then, we started the session and she did my favorite pose. Tonight is the first night that I paid attention to the name of the pose: tree pose. It is this beautiful pose whose essence is balance and finding your foundation on whichever leg is the foundation, as the other one is bent on your thigh. It is a simple but beautiful pose that I am really good at.
I have begun to look forward to my yoga classes. It is all related really, mind over matter, flexibility. I have to be flexible. Often, with my thinking, with my resistance to moving on into the next experiences in my life, but I must do it.

Yesterday I had a talk with one of my co-workers, Mika; she is also a yoga expert. She has been to ashrams and yoga and meditation retreats and my question was how do you leave that space, that structured space that you exist in for an hour and a half or two months into real life. I mean, real life isn't that way, or perhaps it can be but I haven't figured it out yet.

Is it all controlled by the mind? Is that why Fede was able to survive for two days on the top of that mountain? His mind, as it was so positive, gave his body the strength to endure. Of course, life isn't always as peaceful as that yoga studio or yoga retreat. Nature, and the elements, the reality of his experience beat his body and took his mind and his soul to another place. But perhaps, perhaps because his mental strength was so amazingly strong his beautiful energy is somewhere else, stretching, stirring, laughing. His roots are here forever.

As I come here again, to my favorite cafe called Black Canyon Coffee, on the corner to drink ginger tea and eat the small little free cookies that come with it and write for an hour in my own world I reached for the beautiful new ipod that Chels sent me. The silver color matches the tree of my necklace. For some reason I had a desire to listen to Enya and the album is called "Memory of Trees"

Is everything connected in some way or are we just more aware of certain things? As I finished my yoga class tonight I got tears in my eyes, like I often do, thinking of times past and I walked on the street a bit before I entered the cafe. Two guys were passing by, speaking in Spanish, and one of them was talking about Mendoza and Quilmes, I did a double take wondering if I perhaps knew him, no, no.



July 13, I had another yoga class last night. It was a Monday and I had been feeling low. I woke up feeling low, low and fatigued, tired, over it. I was questioning why it has been so difficult to pull myself out of THIS. And then the teacher, Sandrine, talked about transformation. Then, of course, we did my favorite pose: the tree pose. She always talks about listening to your body, and being good to your self, the "self". We also had to do this other pose in which the thigh is stretched and she said the thigh holds must of the anger: "so stretch it out".

Mind over matter, time after time. Haha. Mind over matter time after time.

One last yoga entry...I couldn't decide if I wanted to go to yoga today or climb, kept wavering, until some stupid Dara kids ran in front of me and I fell over on my bike. It was the last of a series of small things that were just pissing me off more and more with everything, with trying. So, I went, for one last chance at trying to find some balance in all of this bullshit. I wasn't focused at all in class but we learned this new pose called the Goddess pose and it sounds so cliche, yeah, the lost woman "finds her goddess", and no, that didn't occur, but the pose was beautiful, and simple, and expressive and it made me smile for a moment.
Another great thing about each yoga session is that we are supposed to try and focus on one part of the body that needs some healing. I guess I just need to remember that, patience, one at a time...
One day at a time, one moment at a time

Farangringa must run for visa

When I lived in Argentina for four years I worked illegally the entire time. I had a tourist visa and left every 3 months, which was easy as a tour guide in Patagonia and also with the frequency that I visited the states.

Thailand is a very popular place with "farangs" (gringos in Spanish and "foreigners" in English) therefore, it is really difficult to find a job here and work illegally. So, I entered Thailand on a tourist visa and when I arrived the school began the paper work for my work visa. in order to process the work visa the employee has to leave the country in order to change the tourist visa upon which they entered for a non-immigrant B visa (a valid work visa for one year). Dara Academy gives us 15,000 baht for the visa trip. There are several borders you can go to in order to do this but you aren't always guaranteed that they will give you the visa So, Dara strongly suggests that one goes to Penang, Malaysia where they have "connections".

There were 8 of us that had to make the visa run and it was definitely an experience.
We had to take a plane from Chiang Mai to Bangkok and then another one to Penang, but they were both short trips.

The first thing we did when we arrived was find a place to stay. Someone had suggested a guesthouse called The Banana guesthouse. You assume if it is recommended it is going to be somewhat nice. When we arrived we were shown the different room options. The first word that comes to my mind is dodgy. However, in order to save money I stayed in a room with two of my co-workers. However, I couldn't do it the second night and moved to another guesthouse. It had just opened and was beautiful.



Because we're in Malaysia for visa purposes we didn't have a lot of time to see the beautiful beaches and national parks of this country. However, there is something that is quite beautiful, or rather, striking, about this small country: the diversity of religions condensed into one area.

More than half of the population is Muslim but one can still feel the religious diversity just by merely meandering through the streets. Other prominent religions are Buddhism, Christianity, and Hinduism.

There is a very large Indian population, as well, in Penang. There is a Little India in Penang that is famous for its Indian cuisine. The Banana guesthouse was two streets away from there so on our first night in Penanga we ate at a famous Indian restaurant that had amazing food. I ordered paper chicken, garlic naan, and masala tea. There weren't any alcoholic beverages available at the restaurant because the owners were Muslim. Since we were on "vacation" and we work with high school kids I suppose we felt the need to rebel and act like high school kids? Poor high school-esque excuse I just made...So, like high school kids, we ordered our food and then walked to the local 7-11 and bought a beer to chug. haha, when in Penang, right?

The next day we all took a taxi to the Thai consulate in order to process our visas. You have to turn in your paperwork and of course pay a hefty fee, and then wait 24 hours for them to process it. So, we had the rest of the day to do as we pleased. The boys decided to find beer and my friend and co-worker, Hilary, and I decided to walk around and see the city. There wasn't much to seek out, no major tourist attractions, no interesting monuments. The town is dirty and often dirtier with lots of motor bikes. It was really hot and I was beginning to feel a bit weary of wandering until we randomly chose a different street to walk down. The first thing I saw was a closed cafe called "Amelie". It had potted flowers in the front and the most beautiful sign.



It was simple and simply spectacular. We just sat there for a moment wondering why the cafe was closed and happy to have seen the sign and its lovely little message. After gazing we realized that we were right next to an amazing temple.

It almost seemed like a refuge from the heat of the day and the dirty streets. We wandered in and up to a beautiful area where one burns incense is supposed to remind us of the fragrance of the Buddhas teachings which pervade the world. I think we also burn them for luck, for spirits, for strength, for whatever. Sometimes you just feel like burnin' some incense.
As we walked inside we started talking about the term "passed away" and its distinction to death. I really like what the term "passed away" seems to express: the spirit moving onward, forward to something else...and those that remain burn incense to remember, to seguir (to continue) to keep turning down random streets.


The incense sticks were massive and bright pink, really spectacular. In this temple a man gave us a wee tour and then we just sat there and enjoyed the beautiful and this place we had stumbled upon. We continued down the street and well, found another temple. We were contemplating entering when a small Malaysian man who was smoking cigarettes and reeked of whiskey somewhat lured us inside the temple and began to explain many of the rituals of going to the temple. First, we bought prayer flags and a large bundle of incense sticks (normal size, not like the ones above). Then, we entered the area in which you perform the ritual.


Each of the bundles of incense sticks represents something different. Unfortunately, I can't remember all of them but one set was meant to burn for your families as well as anyone else that could possibly use a little blessing. So, we made our offerings and then the last part of the ritual is the burning of the prayer flags. It was quite a beautiful ritual, actually, and I wish that I could remember the details. Lesson to self: Write these things down.

Some other memorable photos from the trip:
This is my co-worker Nick (from Florida) , who is also an avid Breakdancer as well, or, as he calls it a "B-boy"

This another temple we saw as we were leaving another. Then, literally one block away we saw this mosque: The world's religions.


I love this tuk-tuk. It just makes you want to take it for a ride, like it will take you somewhere magical with its colorful flowers, like to one of your favorite childhood places or something. You know those places? The ones in your memories from childhood that were so perfect and picturesque, where life was dreamy and innocent...ah, take me there tuk-tuk.


Anyways, we all got our visas and now we are back, back to "Thai reality", I'll explain that one at a later date...

Dara Academy Sports Day

My last day of being an Aunuban substitute co-incided with something at Dara Academy called Sports Day. Thai youth are studious, which I find ironic because according to the Thai education system everyone passes, no matter what. No one ever fails, no one ever gets held back, yet the students have classes Monday-Friday, have other academic classes on Saturday and Sunday, and are, therefore, left little time to be kids. So, once a year Dara hosts a Sports Day. The Junior High and High school students go to the infamous 700 year stadium in the middle of Chiang Mai. The lower grades, of course, for which I was substituting, stay at Dara Academy for the day in the probably-not-even-a-70-year-old-gymnasium. The events are organized similar to the Olympics but it is more about the teams, the colors, the cheers, rather than the physical activity. Even the teachers are asked to participate in events. I had to participate in speed-walking and I won! Below you can see me with the other teachers and our medals. I was also given a carton of milk later for an additional prize.

It was a strange experience, most of the kids suffered from heat exhaustion, but everyone looked good in their colors and that is most important (I am not being sarcastic). All of the teachers had to wear pink shirts (it is the king's color--red and yellow are also never used colors because of the political unrest in Thailand two months ago between The Red Shirts and The Yellow Shirts).


All of the students and teachers were divided into four teams, each with an accompanying color of green, blue, orange and purple. Each team had cheerleaders, a band, the athletes and fans. At the end of the day the team that had won the most events won a gold medal, AND the team that supported their team, via cheering, also received a gold medal.





After, I went home and made myself a nice cup of warm milk.

Life and death and the rest of it

I came to Thailand to write my story, well, part of it. I want to write the part of my story where I fell in love--yes--the storybook kind...but not the storybook ending. In January 2009 the physical side of that love fell into something else, and I have fallen into sadness, despair, and grief...but with that "fall, fell, have fallen" I look for what remains of the other side of that love, the spiritual side, and fall becomes "transcend" and awe at what each individual is capable of.

I chose Thailand because everything is different and foreign from my previous experiences, my previous stories, yet I feel I am getting closer to some type of spirituality that I seek. On Monday one of the Thai climber's mother passed away, tragically, from a brain hemorrhage. As part of the climbing community I was invited to attend his mother's Buddhist funeral. It would have been a chance to see another view of death, an eastern perspective. But, I got scared. I think I got scared because I saw it as a chance to experience something in order to write about it, to observe it, to perhaps even to take it to analyze, to try and make sense of, I don't know. But it shouldn't be about that. Perhaps it seems easier to be able to create some meaning, but that's just not the story. It is such a personal and sensitive time in a family's life, a family's existence that it shouldn't be commented on, it should just be. But, it wasn't just that. I have been there, and that feeling of loss is universal, and I was scared to return, even if indirectly, to that feeling, to feel loss.



All I know, thus far, without doing any research, is that in Buddhism family and friends mourn the passing of a loved one for three days at a temple. Every night people are welcome to come and pay their respects to the family. On the third day the person who has passed is cremated. It probably would have been beautiful and perhaps even peaceful to be a part of such a ritual. But for some reason I wasn't feeling a strong desire to attend. I do not know Muad, the climber, very well and I am very tired today. My heart didn't feel open, my heart is just quite sad and weak.
I have thought a lot about my mother today and the beautiful individual that she was. It was 8 months ago today that she also passed away. I remember how in my talk at her funeral I asked everyone to do something "in the spirit of Ann, my mother" once a month. I asked everyone to challenge themselves to do it, yet I have rarely done it. So, a few days ago I decided that today, July 2, was going to be my day to do something Ann-esque. It just happened to coincide with the day of this Buddhist funeral. My mom would always go to funerals and support the individuals and their families who were feeling such pain. She really was quite an amazing woman. But, I didn't go to the funeral. Instead, I went to the climbing shop and donated some money to the family. When I walked into the shop they asked me if I wanted go to the cremation tomorrow. I instantly had a flashback to that day when I stood and just stared at the door where they had taken Fede's body to cremate it. How I just sat there and stared and stared and could hear the machines inside and how long it took. I think I was hoping to see his spirit come through the door and tell me "vas a estar bien, gringa". It never happened, but the machines did eventually stop, and I eventually stopped staring.

I truly believe, and I can only speak for myself, that cremation is the most natural way for a body to finish its physical presence on earth. Especially when I was able to take his ashes to the most beautiful mountaintop and send him on to his next journey.

What I find overwhelming is the way these two deaths (Fede and my mom) are beginning to intertwine, once again, like that 8. I was told to mourn them one at a time, but things are never done that way, its just not the way life works.

When I was in Malaysia last weekend we wandered into a Buddhist temple that was in front of the guesthouse where we were staying. It was quite beautiful with bright red lanterns hanging everywhere in front of it. When we entered the temple I remember seeing a monk sitting in front of a computer, surfing on the internet and I thought, "a true sign of the times". We proceeded to walk through the temple and it seemed that the Buddhist statues in this temple were slightly different. I decided to ask the monk what kind of temple it was and the monk said, "Tibetan". As soon as the monk spoke I realized that the monk was a she not a he. She was very petite, like a child actually, and she had the biggest, kindest smile in the world. She asked us where we were from and then she asked me about my necklaces. I, of course, couldn't hold back and told her that one was mine and one was my husbands who died last year. I think I shocked her a bit, I seem to keep doing that. Anyways, she gave me a c.d. with some music for meditation. She said that it would help me...


I pray for Muad and his family tonight, that they find some moments of peace, that they realize the family that they still have and that those ties grow stronger and closer. That they tell and share stories of the woman that she was, that they celebrate her in their own personal and sacred way.
The ties that I have created and realized over my journey of grief are with me tonight, so is Fede, my mom, my family in Utah and in Argentina and all of the people that have become my community over the past year and a half.

I think I have started to write my storybook love with Fede, but it is much more than that, intertwined with other storybooks. I am starting to tell the story of so many, I tell my story, they share theirs, perhaps pass it on...this is a true sign of the times.

Life and death and the rest of it....