Thai/Tie Pun II: El(i)es and Wats' Wat

After a two month hiatus from blogging, I am returning with recollections--recollections of the two month hiatus from blogging. I do not feel like my vacation was a "whirlwind" or that it "flew by." Actually, eight weeks of vacation feels exactly like eight weeks of vacation when entire weeks are defined by a specific activity, reunions, and locations. This is the fourth and final entry of journal "highlights"--here is the first entry, the second entry, and the third entry (which was the first half of my time in Thailand). These are excerpts from what I wrote while I was in or around Chiang Mai and Cambodia. Hereafter, I promise my blog's contents will shift from personal journal regurgitation.

Eyes of the ele

***

01/28

I slept terribly last night; I woke repeatedly to mosquitoes biting my face. At least they weren't bed bugs.

Our cubby in our train car sleeps four passengers. Coincidentally, I bump into a fellow alum from my childhood summer camp--he sleeps two-cubbies-down.

01/29

"Good morneen," the car manager calls as she walks the aisle. "Brekfest fifteen minoots."

I slide open my lower berth's curtains. The air-con reasserts its unforgettable presence without the poor shield that was the curtain; I've been freezing for the nearly nine hours of Benadryl-clouded sleep. At some point in the night, I wake to put on my flannel; the cotton blanket does not match the pillow in comfort-level. 

While eating my rice soup with chicken, I join our cubby's roommates (a body-odor-plagued French couple) in watching the hills covered in tropical forest--not quite rainforest. We rumble past a pineapple orchard, and I wonder if I'm not stationary while everything crashes past.

Confertzel: Interfaith Love and Marriage in Relation to Parents

In a recent conversation with two students I tutor, one student, John, bluntly asked: "Do you believe in--" He then paused to look-up a word on his phone's dictionary, "--God?"

This is a difficult topic to address regardless of a language barrier; to explain one's conceptions of "God" to someone who does not even know the word for "God" is a mental exercise in its own right.

John did not intend for the conversation to veer into philosophy, though. He quickly followed my simplistic answer with a story. John had recently proposed to his girlfriend: He showed me a silver band as validation and explained that modern Chinese custom is to use the engagement ring as an opportunity to exchange what Westerners might view as a "Promise Ring"--a non-diamond ring that signifies commitment but carries substantially less gravity. And given different economic standards, I am not surprised that the practice of giving a diamond ring (much less a three-months-salary-worth ring) is a rare occurence in China.

In any case, John's parents were not nearly as thrilled with his decision to propose to his girlfriend of fourteen months. According to John's mother, John "must" marry someone who believes in "God." John's girlfriend does not. (On a saddening side note, John's grandmother disapproves of John's girlfriend because she is not as pretty as John's cousin's wife. Therefore, John's grandmother and the rest of the family will "lose face" if he marries his girlfriend.)

"What can I do to change my mother's mind?"

Obviously, I advised honesty about his love. But I cautioned him that there are many details about the situation that make it so only he can truly find the "right" answer. I advised him to take into account the balance of tradition, legacy, familial love, independence, his own love, and his girlfriend's love. Then I asked him if he believed in "God": "No."

R-E-G-R-E-T, find out what it means to me.

I have been thinking a lot about decision making. The years immediately following undergraduate education have the potential to be a no-man's-land in a battle between embracing youth (and it's potential) and pursuing direction. This transitional space is rife with landmines and barbed wire that are otherwise referred to as "major life decisions." Some dodge the battlefield--blindly realizing that this, in and of itself, is a decision in regards to how to handle one's own life (i.e. procrastination and denial). I know others who look to maneuver around obstacles; and I know others who will do whatever it takes to steadfastly embrace youthful pursuits or to devotedly labor at the "next step."

Bear, motorcycle, high wire, laurel, streamers. This happens

As a friend asks me for my thoughts on applying to the Peace Corps and another asks me for my opinion about teaching in a struggling community, I relay the questions that I have had to ask myself in regards to both of these pursuits that have been passions at some point in my recent past.


As a friend asks me for my thoughts on moving in with his significant other and another friend asks me for my opinion about committing to a year abroad with her significant other, I obviously reflect on my decisions in regards to my former relationship with both those features.

And as I ask my friends for their thoughts on what their next steps will be or for their opinions about what they have learned from their own experiences in whatever they have done  in the past year, I find myself questioning how I make decisions and how I regard decisions I have made in the past year-or-so--which is a rather appropriate act for this resolution-making time of the year.

The Loss of a Great Friend

I do not know if I believe in soul-mates.

I do know that I had found a kindred spirit, a best friend, and a trusted companion. It is so rare to find this--especially in an inanimate object.

Not two-weeks-ago, I realized that my blue zip-up hoodie had gone missing. Only yesterday, I gave-up hope of finding it.

It is with great sadness that I issue this eulogizing blog post. Though I only knew that hoodie for four years (four damn good years), I was familiar with each frayed edge and the origins of each stain. After just four years, I would grossly exagerate that I wore "The Blue Hoodie" for at least 365 days during that time, I would more accurately estimate that I wore "The Blue Hoodie" for at least 100 days (time worn, not days donned and then removed) during that time, and I would definitely know that I could count the times I washed "The Blue Hoodie" on my fingers.

I saw it morph from accessory to pajamas to all-purpose-utility-article. It saw me graduate university. We saw at least 23 countries and 19 states together.

Many came to know me and "The Blue Hoodie" as extensions of one-another. I have heard from several close friends (people, not inanimate objects) that when they thought of me, they thought of me wearing torn jeans, a solid-colored shirt, and "The Blue Hoodie."

So, I will not go on much longer. The sadness of the loss weighs heavily. The following is a montage of moments "The Blue Hoodie" and I shared over the past four years--from a rare snowy day in Jerusalem to its mysterious disappearance in Shenzhen and all that lay between. Cue "Dust in The Wind." You're my boy Blue!

Day 1: A Fox sweatshirt and an Onion fall in love while it snows in Jerusalem

Overwhelmed in Camden Market of London

Accidental Personal Statement?

Much of the romance about exploration and connection relies on stripping away layers (like those of an Onion, mayhaps) to reveal mysteries beyond. What happens once those mysteries lose their undisclosed quality through revealing? What happens to the layers that have been stripped?

For a few years running, I have prided myself on adamantly believing in the power of human connection: connection with others, connection with environment, and connection with the self. Part of my ethos and part of my passions are to connect as much as possible; thus, I explore  and adventure with intent of learning more about others and their places--geographically and with regards to their sense of identity.

Environment onions:
As we delve deeper into new locales and societies, any past layers are not discarded as much as integrated into our knowledge and experience. What is the specialty of Sichuan province (i.e. food)? One of them is Sichuan greenbeans. With this revelation, I lose the mystery of the question but gain the knowledge of what to order in Chengdu. This is a minor example. This concept, though, is acted out on greater scales with regards to learning about hidden alleys with wonderful street vendors that become integrated into routine after being frequented. Once we start peeling away the layers of our environment and how it functions, we continue to add to a cumulative knowledge. There is no loss but the loss of mystery. I would venture so far as to say truly connecting with one's environment is a spiritual fulfillment. One creates a bond to something that is constantly shifting within certain solid structural (or natural) confines; in the past, I have found that this sort of connection with location is conducive to self-affirmation--in chicken-egg fashion, perhaps the latter facilitates the former. Regardless, peeling away an environmental onion reveals an essence of location, of time, and even of self onions.

What is to be expected? What is to be expected.

Fish don't tread water.

I would be the first to profess how foolish it is to begin a journey or even to begin most tasks with set expectations of how the journey and/or task will unfold and/or culminate. Without a certain amount of flexibility to the whims and uncontrollable forces of the world (especially in China), failure is a constant potential; disappointment, a guaranteed outcome. I know this.

Unfortunately, I am bearing witness, these days, to how knowing something and experiencing it may be stark differences that leave one questioning one's own ilk. As detailed to many of you at various points, I am enduring some trying times. Whether I am at school and facing indifferent students or abusive colleagues, or whether I am at home and elsewhere attempting to distract myself as methods of licking my recently opened wounds. There is no need to detail these trials any further, but my kind readership should be aware that I experience insecurity and stress no matter where I go and nearly no matter what I do. The stress in my life is inescapable because of how profound it is. I wish I could, as I say to myself, "Take it one thing and/or day at a time."

Taking It To Heart

Serenity now!

In the wake of my National Day vacation to emei shan (Mt. Emei, the holiest of Taoist mountains and located two hours southwest of Chengdu, China) and Leshan (home of the world's tallest seated buddha with toenails bigger than me) I am left reflecting on the balance of life. This seems appropriate and obvious (perhaps appropriately obvious) given the spiritually Buddhist sights I visited. Emei shan rejuvenated me with how it challenged me, with its beauty, with its spiritual essence that enveloped each of its hiking pilgrims much like the low-lying clouds that wrapped and permeated the mountain's sloping and sub-tropical forest; I returned lightened and having come to terms with pressing questions in my life--more on these questions later--only to encounter a burdening pain.

That is waterfall fresh laundry

I know I would fail in describing the climb up the mountain; I know as much because of how complexly beautiful Emei is. Since I feel like this excuse is more a cop-out disguising laziness, I will not use this lame reasoning to withhold  details of my experience on Emei. Instead, I will ask for your understanding given my struggle to find words while my thoughts are so helplessly scattered in the face of some personal and heavy-hearted trials.

A few stray descriptions and reflections will, I hope, suffice.

Battling thousands of Chinese people for a seat on a bus from Chengdu to Emei redefines "holiday travel." Imagine going to O'Hare airport on the busiest travel days surrounding Thanksgiving or Christmas; now, imagine that your airline has issued you a ticket to a destination but has not specified the time of your flight, the number of your flight, or your seat on the flight. The airline just sells tickets to passengers, thus allowing them to do whatever they feel is necessary to make sure that they get to their destinations in a timely manner.

I waited five hours with other sardines in Chengdu's bus station; it took me four hours to move twenty feet. I was elated that I did not have to use the restroom at any time during this experience. I was not elated that many Chinese people firmly believe that body odor is a "western problem."

I [sic] New York

Recently, I have been considering how random my film reviews are: There is no thematic order to the movies I see, and this may contribute to an illegitimacy in my blogging. Then, I remember that this is a blog that follows my travels, adventures, thoughts, and reflections. There is no particular order to these aspects of my life, so the random reviews (courtesy, in part, of the unsystematic order of my Netflix queue) tow the the line of my life. I am sorry if you do not appreciate.

*****

While I am still a huge fan of "Paris, je t'aime,"  I cannot say my enthusiasm for the city-scape montage of love applies to the poorly planned and odiously executed "New York, I Love You."




(I forgot that preview features Phoenix--perhaps the most redeeming quality of the film.)