There I said it.

I just saw a quote on Facebook that read: “You can’t start the next chapter of your life while you keep re-reading the last one.”

But how do you stop re-reading the last chapter when it was soooo darn good? Like finishing a good book, the ending of the last chapter of my life feels like I’ve lost a good friend. In a way I’ve said goodbye, for now, to a little part of me. The adventurer, the traveler, the vagabond. I’ve gained layers, knowledge, insight, laughter, memories, yet its now time to hold onto all of that yet let this day be my present. There’s no more unpacking our backpacks every 2 days. We now know where we lay our heads every night. I, hopefully, will not wake up to flying ants in my ears anymore. And instead of crashing waves, honking motorbikes, or someone selling something at the crack of dawn, I wake up to the sounds of the family dog running down the house to bark at passerby’s. Life has changed drastically.  Continue reading

Foodie Friday from Laos

Near Inle Lake, they eat and sell every single part of the chicken.

Waking up at Inle Lake a month ago, I admired the view as I made my way to Shane and Arielle for breakfast.  With a nod I said, “Good morning,” and we start chatting about the previous evening as a hostess sets a cup of coffee in front of me. In Myanmar sugar doesn’t help mask the luke warm cup of dirt water, nor does the room temperature milk help. I take a sip of coffee and my brain does a double take. What? It’s been so long, I let out an, “Awww my goodness,” and Arielle, anticipating this moment, clearly not having taken her eyes off my face exclaims, “Yes! It’s real coffee right!  I was waiting for you to take your first sip!” We’re both seriously happy. But wait, there’s more!

Yangon…Rangoon…Our Last Impressions of Myanmar

A few weeks back when we left Yangon for Bagan, the taxi driver who took us to the airport in his ancient vehicle had no brakes in his car. He had two pedals – gas and clutch – with a hole in the floor where a brake used to be. He stopped the car only using the clutch and never left second gear.  The squeaky, clanking, and violent shaking from the potholed streets felt as though the car would fall apart at any moment. We opted to pay $6 instead of $7 for the nicer car and regretted every single moment. He didn’t speak English, never used a main road, and almost actually killed us when he rolled and stalled in the middle of an intersection. But wait, there’s more!

Myanmar’s Inle Lake

Fishing. They drop the fishing nets and then beat the water with bamboo sticks to make the fish rise to the top.

Beautiful didn’t cut it for me.  I needed a new word to describe what I was seeing and nothing that I could come up with was working.  We were staying in a hut on stilts in the middle of Inle Lake.  Every time a boat went by the whole hut swayed, ever so slightly.  While we were in the middle of the lake on a map, it didn’t feel that way as there were islands and floating gardens all around us.  But wait, there’s more!

The Way of Mandalay

On our way to Mandalay from Bagan

After a bumpy six hour bus ride on dirt roads and the occasional pot holed paved road, through river beds and streams (that’s right, through), past dusty villages, past people walking seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and across what looked like high desert, we arrived in Mandalay. We step off the bus to a dozen or so animated and desperate looking taxi drivers and baggage handlers. They jokey for position around the door of the bus looking each departing passenger in the eyes with hands in the air yelling, “taxi,” and other unintelligible words. Our feet stomp onto the dirt road below where a dust cloud from previous foot falls and commotion is already head high. Disoriented from the dozens of buses parked at odd angles, while waving away the dust cloud and fumes, we begin to acknowledge the heat when suddenly, rain begins to fall lightly. We quickly arrange a taxi with no haggling because of the  Belgian couple who offered to split it with us. A small blue Lego looking 1960s Mazda pickup truck pulls up and the four of us cram into the covered truck bed when the rain stops. Welcome to Mandalay. But wait, there’s more!

I’m from my Mother

“Hello”
“Mingalaba!”  (hello in Myanmar)
“Where you come from?”
“Cali-for-nia”
“Oh yes.  Where you going?”
“I don’t know-just riding my bicycle.  Where are you from?”
“I’m from my mother.”

Everywhere you look there is a picture.  Really, everywhere.  I want a camera in my eyes so that each time I blink I can snap a photo. You wish you could capture what you see but can’t – what you see also has feeling, inspiration, and yearning. You don’t keep snapping away, because even if you had all the gear, the lens you wish you had, the tripod, it wouldn’t be anywhere near the same. But wait, there’s more!