Travel Archives - Page 18 of 39 - Maggie InkMaggie Ink

Water world

April 17, 2011

Songkran is a funny beast. The Thai new year festival is a celebration of cleansing and rebirth, marked by water throwing.

The tourism bureau would have you believe it is something adorable, like this.

: Sprinkle sprinkle.

But this is closer to reality.

: IN YO FACE!

People line the streets with buckets and hoses, armed with water guns. Every passerby is a target, especially the people actively trying to stay dry. It’s loads of fun — as long as you’re the person throwing water. When you’re not, it can be fairly miserable.

This tradition began with the cleansing of the Buddha statues, which are washed in honor of the new year. That water was then captured and used to bless elders and family members. The holiday has evolved into the world’s largest water fight, complete with wet T-shirt contests, shucking buckets of water into open vehicles and surprising strangers with a fistful of ice in the face.

There is no escaping this festival. I spent several hours yesterday tossing buckets at the unfortunate souls who tried to sneak past Hopf Coffee House in Chiang Mai. When I was done for the day, soggier than the last cornflake in a cereal bowl, I headed home on the back of a scooter. That’s when karma took a big chunk out of my ass, and I was stopped at a traffic light for what felt like hours. I was pelted from all sides with warm water, ice water, probably even a beer or two. I also had the pleasure of a garden hose down my pants.

This morning I snuck over to the ATM, where I got treated to a Super Soaker in the back while I was removing cash. As I was paying for a squirt gun and Diet Coke at the 7-11, the employee was packing his own heat — he shot me in the neck with warm moat water. During a coffee run, I was ambushed by a child hiding behind a potted plant. And I was cornered in a dark alley by 40 tiny kids with water balloons.

I seriously haven’t been dry for more than a few hours during the past three days.

While this is the biggest and most popular festival in Thailand, it’s also the most unpopular festival for my camera. I’ve been wrapping my poor little Lumix in plastic bags, sealed inside of Ziplocs, contained inside waterproof bags, and somehow my stuff is still getting wet. (I took a couple videos, but they don’t do Songkran justice.)

So sadly, I don’t have too many images to share. Instead I have to rely on the kindness of friends, like the good folks over at JDMesh, who took this awesome photo … while dumping a bucket of water on my head.

: On the plus side, this is the cleanest I’ve been on this whole trip.

One of my favorite Songkran moments happened yesterday when some friends and I posed in the street for a seriously waterlogged photo. The guy snapping the picture was taking a long time, and we thought he couldn’t figure out the camera. Turns out he was waiting for the people across the street to run over with buckets. Sneak attack!

: D’oh.

Call of the wild

April 17, 2011

If there’s anything tigers do well, it’s making delicious cornflakes.

They also happen to be champion sleepers, counting sheep and sawing logs for nearly 16 hours a day. And so it was on my visit to Tiger Kingdom in Chiang Mai.

: Go get ’em, tiger!

The good news is that I’m part cat, so I was able to snooze with them.

: Like goose down, but with teeth.

: He’s a tiger. I’m a cougar. It works.

My visit included some time with the big guys.

: What’s new, pussycat?

The medium tigers.

: Easy, tiger.

: Jungle fever.

And the babies.

: Five-month old.

: His favorite movie is “The Lion King.”

Along the way, I got closer to tigers than I ever expected. Probably a lot closer than humans should.

: This is gonna be hilarious.

: Don’t try this at home.

: Tigers just want some finger food.

Once again, I am in awe of nature and in love with the beauty that exists in our world.

: I almost wore leopard print today. Can you imagine the fashion faux pas?

: Zzzzz.

: Gorgeous. And I’m not talking about me.

A note about Tiger Kingdom: I was highly skeptical about visiting this place. I’d heard about other tiger parks where the tigers are drugged or abused to the point of total submission for tourists. I did a lot of research before I decided to give Tiger Kingdom my money, including asking the opinion of workers at animal sanctuaries I trust. The unanimous response was that I should go and decide for myself.

After my visit, I am much more comfortable with Tiger Kingdom and what they do. I do not think the tigers are drugged — I was happy to see they were not declawed either — but they are definitely not wild tigers. These animals were born into captivity and are quite used to human interaction. When the tigers are too big (age two), visitors are no longer allowed to get inside the cage.

After the tigers reach adulthood, many of them stay at Tiger Kingdom for conservation studies, though some are sent to zoo programs. I have mixed feelings about this. I realize that done well, zoos can provide incredible educational opportunities about our environment. I also know that there are few options for tigers who have been born into captivity — they obviously cannot be released into the wild. On the other hand, it’s heartbreaking that a majestic creature will spend the entirety of his/her life behind bars.

As much as I enjoyed my visit, I probably would not visit Tiger Kingdom again. While I don’t think the animals are mistreated, I do feel guilty for using them for my personal entertainment. My biggest problem is that I love animals so much, I just want to be close to them — and sometimes I forget how that isn’t the best choice for the creatures I want to protect. Maybe you can be a better person than I was.

It’s a complicated issue, and visiting Tiger Kingdom is a decision that everybody will have to make for themselves. If you are interested in visiting Tiger Kingdom, this fantastic blog post can give you more information about prices and what to expect.

Finding my balance

April 16, 2011

I lost my balance in Dahab, Egypt.

Physically, I mean.

I was staying at the amazing El Salam Camp and Yoga Shala. During marathon late-night yoga sessions, in an idyllic setting where night and stars rolled in on the Red Sea waves, I found myself inexplicably toppling over on the mat.

: This photo was lovingly ganked from the El Salam website.

It was very strange. Even when I can’t do bendy poses, I’ve always been able to hold my own in the balance asanas. Maybe I can’t slip into lotus or touch my toes to my head in scorpion, but I can rock a motherforking tree pose.

: Not me doing tree.

Shifting my weight to one leg, rooting myself into the ground, gently balancing the sole of the other foot against my inner thigh, keeping my eyes focused straight ahead — I got that.

Except in Dahab. For the first time ever, I couldn’t keep my balance. My leg was unsteady, my posture unstable. I tipped over. I fell. I tried again. My knee shook, my leg wavered. I faltered. I fell.

I’m embarrassed to say that it took me far too long to draw a connection between my physical loss of balance and my emotional one. Because during that time in Dahab, my grandmother passed away, followed a few days later by my mother’s death.

No wonder I couldn’t hold a tree pose. I could barely hold a toothbrush.

Those days were all itchy and unsettled. I slept with my eyes open. I dreamt when I was awake. I was detached, like some kind of alien pretending to be a human. A lot of people offered me love, and I didn’t know how to accept it. Even my body felt lonely, because there was nobody inhabiting it.

Instead of being compassionate with myself, I tried even harder to achieve balance. But as you probably know, the more you try to force something the more elusive it becomes.

I’m in a different place now, both physically and mentally, and a couple pages on the calendar have been torn away. I wouldn’t say my wounds have healed, but they’re slowly getting some scar tissue.

Yesterday I took another yoga class, this time at Wild Rose Yoga in Chiang Mai, Thailand. The instructor told us to focus on the theme of impermanence. He used the Thai new year festival of Songkran as an example — when you’re in the thick of the party and the water-throwing action, you’re giddy, elated, excited. But it’s not long before the fun stops, the wind kicks in, the air gets cold — pretty soon you’re unhappy, grumpy, uncomfortable.

Everything is impermanent.

The way sunrise and sunset effortlessly tumble through each day, so it is with our feelings. Our emotions are fluid. Happiness doesn’t last. Pain and sadness don’t either. They just feel like they do.

At one point in the class, we were all holding chair pose, a squatty posture that kills your glutes in two seconds flat. As everyone groaned and sweated, the instructor reminded us that physical sensations are impermanent too. He said that 10 seconds from now, we’ll forget the burn was ever there at all.

He was right.

My balance is back. I held tree pose for several minutes tonight just to prove it to myself. But now I accept these things are constantly in flux. Maybe I’ll fall over tomorrow. Maybe I’ll get back up the day after that.

This is life — shaky and unstable — and I’m just doing my best to keep up with the flow.

: Dakini, the rockinest yoga babe out there.

** A special shout-out to all my yoga stars, every teacher and friend I’ve met on the mat along the way. As I travel around the world from class to class, you have all taught me incredibly powerful lessons. Thank you for your insight, your love and your light.

10 essential character traits for long-term travelers

April 12, 2011

I have a lot of people tell me that I’m brave for traveling around the world.

I feel a lot of things, but brave isn’t one of them. However, it got me to thinking about the character traits that do make for a good long-term traveler.

Open

It seems like this would be one trait inherent to every traveler, but that’s not always the case. In Bangkok, I met a Swedish woman who was just starting a six-month trip around Southeast Asia. She wanted to join me for dinner, and I recommended a great street cart nearby. Her response? “Oh, I don’t like Asian food.” Can you imagine how difficult the next six months will be for that poor girl? I’m not saying you have to lose all your inhibitions and give every experience a shot — I’m specifically thinking about that ashram in India where they have big, freaky orgies — but at least inch your way out of your comfort zone. Start with a plate of pad Thai and move on from there.

: I had no idea what any of this was … until I ate it.

Polite

I am appalled by the travelers I meet who are condescending, even downright mean, to the local people. A good traveler is respectful and understanding. They realize that every culture is beautiful, even if it differs dramatically from their own. Also, please and thank you make a world of difference when you communicate with others, even when you do it in another language.

: Respect the local customs.

Humble

At home I know how to mail a package, order food, visit the doctor. On the road, however, even simple tasks take major effort. Sometimes you will seem like an idiot. Sometimes you will feel like a child. Sometimes people will laugh at you. It can be incredibly frustrating, especially for those of us who like to pretend we know it all, but you’ll just have to suck it up. Also, now you know how it feels when someone visits your home country — and I bet you’ll be a little more understanding.

: Syed helped me send a package in India.

Adaptable

Sometimes you have to make do with what you have. Switch to a different bus. Arrive in a strange country at 4 a.m. Take a bucket shower and towel off with your yoga pants. Sleep in a room with strangers. Accept the fact that you got ketchup instead of marinara sauce. Drink the warm beer.

: Ah, a refreshing warm beer.

Patient

My rigid, military dad would hate the bus schedule in Mbale, Uganda, for the sheer fact that there is no bus schedule. On the day I wanted to leave town, I stopped by the station at 9 a.m. and asked for the next bus. I was told there were no buses that day. I asked again. I was told there might be a bus. Not sure. So I said, “If there is a bus that left today, what time would that bus leave?” “Maybe noon. Come back later.” At 10 a.m. I returned. That’s when I was told there was a bus, but it would leave at 2:45 p.m. I decided to hang out on a bench and wait — and that’s why I was able to catch the bus, which actually left at 11:25. I have no idea why the bus didn’t adhere to a schedule, and I am still perplexed by how Africans do this on a daily basis. I just had to go with it and sit around until I got what I needed.

: You will also have to be patient when your ride gets a flat tire.

Shameless

Once upon a time, I turned on the tap whenever I used the restroom because I didn’t want anyone to hear me pee. I puckered up with stage fright if anyone even walked down a nearby hallway. Cut to a rainy night at a busy corner bar in Kigali, Rwanda. I had to use the toilet, which was basically a hole in an alley, surrounded by a few tipsy pieces of corrugated tin and some cardboard. There was no roof, and the rain was coming down hard and cold. One of my English students took me by the hand, shielding me with a pink child’s umbrella. Another student braced herself against the metal sheets, keeping the tin from falling over in the nasty wind. Squatting and giggling in that alley, I realized I had become less high-maintenence and slightly more audacious. But in a good way.

: Francoise held the umbrella.

Persistent

In Ethiopia I came across this phenomenon where I would ask for directions, and the person would tilt their hand from side to side, often moving their finger in a circle. Sometimes I had to ask 14 people the same question just to get down the block. It demonstrated the necessity of asking a lot of questions to get the answers I needed, something that applies to a lot of travel situations.

: Even the mannequins don’t know which way to go in Ethiopia.

Trusting

Repeat after me: There are more good people out there than bad people. The good people are generous, they like to show off their city, they are interested in learning about you, and they are quick to help. When you turn yourself over to a place, open yourself to the people there as well, and you will be rewarded.

: This family in Mysore, India, treated me like one of their own.

Compassionate

It’s not like you have to solve a huge humanitarian crisis. You don’t even have to volunteer if you don’t want to. Simply taking the time to educate yourself about a nation, a city, a village and the issues they face is enough. Maybe it’ll inspire you to help someone out with a kind word, a helpful hand or a dollar. Or maybe you’ll pack your stories away to inspire someone else someday. Either way, showing concern for others will help put your travels in context and give you a deeper, more meaningful perspective of the places you’ll go.

: I didn’t even know the island of Taquile existed until I stayed there.

Curious

Of course this is the big one. If you don’t want to know more about something, anything, everything, you should probably stay at home.

: Also: Must love monkeys.

Say wat?

April 10, 2011

I spent my first full day in Chiang Mai, Thailand, wandering aimlessly around town on foot, popping into random wats.

Like this.

: Big, old wat.

And this.

: Wooden wat.

And this.

: Gilded wat.

Along the way, I saw a few things I’ve never seen inside temples before. For instance, the tree trunks were covered with nuggets of bumper sticker wisdom.

: My ugly mug agrees with this.

A TV crew filming in the temple. What made it surreal is that the crew sent the actual praying people out of the temple and brought in some fake ones.