Returning to Kalaw

I've already shared our experience of the 14 hour journey up country to Kalaw, but have failed to express the encounters once we arrived.  So here I am transporting myself back to those days that were filled with laughter, tears, and story, after story, after story.

Though our time in Kalaw was brief, it was clear that for my family, it was here, where most of their memories rest.  Kalaw was, and still is, the heart of their impressionable years as eager and open children.  The vivid memories that they carry with them are embedded in their former homes, school, and places of business.  Words like Dove Road, Grandfather's house, St. Agnes's Convent and Banyan tree all hold a very special place in their hearts.

One unforgettable place was their home on Dove Road.  As we traveled towards it, the roadway had digressed into an overgrown trail making it difficult to imagine that there was life somewhere down the way.  As brush and branches scraped the side of the bus, our skepticism of whether or not we were on the right track grew.  But how could they forget the way to this house? They couldn't.  They knew it was there.  And it was. 

Dove Road House; Kalaw, Burma; January 2011

Like all of the places we visited, the current occupants understood this journey we were on and welcomed us into their home.  Here, they allowed us to take our time to walk through each and every room, to take pictures and reminisce on how the place used to be, used to be arranged, used to feel.  Much of the Dove Road house was still the same in structure and foundation and the signature letters under the peaked roof line are still proudly standing.  

Inside Dove Road House

The house is minimalistic in furnishings. Only basic necessities are present.  It was clean and orderly, but was missing the hustle and bustle of a young, active and vibrant family.  The family told us that it is currently listed for sale and in hearing this, I saw the twinkle in my family's eyes, their minds silently thinking...what if?  It could be so meaningful, so easily, once again.  

Pathway at back of Dove Road House

Outside, we scattered throughout the large plot of land surrounding the house.  There was a pathway at the back where my mom and uncle used to play and some crazy stories emerged as we walked down...stories of sibling rivalry, neighbourly spats, and, well, others. 

Grandfathers house was another visit. Grandfather, meaning my Grandma's Dad.  This was a full house.  A full house, mourning the passing of their relative just days prior.  But yet, they welcomed us.  And allowed us to sit and stay a while.  The way this home was designed is unique.  It is on the second level.  And when you reach the top of the staircase you enter a great room and around the perimeter are the bedrooms, kitchen, and bathroom.  There is a back stairway that leads to a large storage room that exits to the back alley.  Down these stairs, more stories of the past unfolded. Stories of young love that lay next to the piles of rice bags.

The balconies of this house were remembered as the favorite spots for relatives to spend their days.  To think that throughout time, layers of memories are built within the same kitchen, the same storage room, the same staircase of the same house...by different families.  I guess in life, some things need to remain constant to support the chaos that human interaction and life can present.  As each of them looked into the rooms and saw past visions of times gone by, new life was swirling around.  The memories are still alive, but only visible to those that experienced them, years before. The new family can only wonder what this house meant and the happiness it supported so long ago.  As we took our last round and emptied their house, they followed us to the stairway and sent us on our way with a bag of hot samosas!

And where did these children learn?  Boarding school of course.  Who taught them?  Nuns.  At St. Agnes's Convent.  My uncle and mom remember their lessons here clearly.  And although the school no longer seemed as intimidating, it still had an air of discipline and order.  Once again, the simplicity of life and material possessions were apparent.  As we observed their former classrooms we saw emptiness, except for the requirements of a place to sit, write and teach.   

St. Agnes's Convent, Kalaw, Burma, Jan 2011

St. Agnes's Convent, Kalaw, Burma, Jan 2011

Inside classroom of St. Agnes's Convent

How news travels in Kalaw is yet another story in itself.  Do you ever wonder how you would make contact without a phone?  Well, in Kalaw, you pass the word, from person to person.  But you must have faith that your message will reach the intended, untainted.  We spent two hours at a local Nepalese restaurant eating mouth watering, authentic dishes and waited for a long lost acquaintance to arrive.  She arrived, late at night, not knowing who had requested her presence.  Unfortunately, she wasn't "the one".  Some things just can't be found.

And then, the next day, a lovely dressed lady walked onto our bus and asked for "Sister Shirley" because "Teacher Gladys" used to be her teacher and she had heard we were in town.  The local doctor also recalled "Teacher Gladys", "Teacher Zeenat" and "Teacher Lorna".  The town was interested to know why we had returned and how their teachers and sisters of the past were fairing.  It was obvious our family had left an impression on the town and were still remembered 45 years later.

Who would have imagined a trip like this would have been possible.  And those friends from years ago, were there, unchanged, and still friends.  As for the memories, are they best left in the time that they were created? It depends.  For Kalaw, I think the return was heart warming.  But this wasn't always the case.

Kalaw Street against mountain backdrop

My days & thoughts in the Dominican

From a world of darkness to endless sunshine, laughter and music.  From Pakistan to the Dominican Republic.  From feeling deflated to feeling inspired.  These were the two extremes that I experienced the past two months.  For me, my surroundings can make or break me.  Just as those that I surround myself with can deplete my energy or encourage my dreams.  For more reasons than simply to eradicate the lingering heaviness of the City of Karachi, this trip was right.  Right place, right time, right people.  There's nothing better than crazy girlfriends, intoxicating rum and a focused mind.  This combination, plus a little time, can cure most things.  Oh and food.  Food always helps.

I have just returned from the Dominican Republic.  Here, I and a team of eleven others, through an organization called Cambiando Vidas, meaning Changing Lives, built a house in three and a half days. Yes, that's right, built a house...Dominican style of course.

As I reflect on the days of the build, I recall my thoughts and how they changed from day one to the day we left.  This is how it was, for me, as I envisioned a common goal with people who were at first strangers.

Day one of the build.  Oh day one, this was my hardest.  Not in a labour kind of way, but mentally.  On the surface, the work site seemed chaotic, but yet the masons and the volunteers knew just what to do.  Things were getting done and hands were occupied, but I...I pondered my own contribution.  The foundation of the house had already been placed, and the cinder blocks were added to three rows high.  There were many men from the community on site and they knew what to do, when to do it, and how to do it.  I felt I was just there, showing my face, kind of like a silent investor.  Am I really needed here?  Am I really making a difference?  If I wasn't here, the work would still go on, the house would still be built.  So, what's my part?  At the same time, I knew I was missing something, or...waiting for something.  Perhaps I hadn't let go as yet and was unable to fully immerse myself in the experience.  I was still consumed with thoughts from back home and was not fully present in the moment.  I was desperately seeking a job to keep my mind occupied.  Productivity is my life line and idleness is my enemy.  These were the subtle feelings of unrest floating through me.  Everything was blended, the feeling like you are on the border between good drunk and too drunk and the world starts swirling around you, and things start blurring together.  Perhaps someone spiked my water bottle with Brugal.  This blending made it impossible to really feel any one experience, like a numbness, just going through the motions, absent of any real enjoyment.  There were so many unfamiliar faces.  And the lack of knowledge of what the next step is or not understanding why we're doing what were doing, or how to do it...I was lost, in a world of unknowns.   I've been given an order....but how the heck do I carry it out?  These were my endless inner thoughts that I battled as the day progressed.  In reality, you just had to ask, and there was usually something that needed to be done.  I found odd jobs, and slowly my comfort level increased and my mind relaxed.

All in all, my mind was in and out this day, and thinking back, I don't even remember what tasks I finally sunk my hands into.  I don't remember seeing or playing with the children.  But I do recall confiding that I'm just not feeling it.  That I couldn't quite understand why one would choose to do this again.  I felt, more than anything, that I was just in the way.  I remember thinking, it's okay, I'm aware that you don't really need me, physically. 

I love the sun. Oh Mr. Sun, so shiny and bright, but he too takes some adjustment.  It is hot, and you are wearing clothing for a work site, which means, steel toe boots, thick socks, long pants, a long sleeve shirt, a hat, sunglasses, and work gloves.  You are all covered up...kinda felt like I was back in good old Pakistan.  Just kidding, not even close.  Anyway, there is no where for the sweat to escape.  So, you're hot, and you are working.  I asked the time because I was sure lunch was just around the corner, but no.  It was 10:30 am.  Only?  I felt as though it was 1:30 pm.  I was starving and was wondering when we were going to eat.  Each day the cook station is set up and the ladies from the community prepare lunch for all the workers.  We all eat together, same meal, same time.  Usually some combination of rice and beans.  Quite delicious.  This could be the truth or it could be because we are usually starving by the time lunch came around.    Not because it was late, but because the combination of an early breakfast, the hot sun, and labour can work up a pretty good appetite.

By the end of day one, the cinder blocks had been placed to the roof line and we, or they, were on schedule.

As for me...I was ready for some strong Rum.

Day 2, 3 and 4.  Somewhere along the way, things started to separate and I became sober.  The faces were no longer just faces.  There was meaning in my presence.  I felt like I was a part of the community, that I had been accepted.  The community had not changed.  The work had not changed.  I had.  I was now inhaling everything around me and was present, whole heartedly.  I get it.  It's the experience.  Not really about offering my muscle and strength, or skills in the construction biz (not that I have any), but about joining in with the community and letting myself go to their culture.  Their way.  And a house is built alongside these human connections. That's what it was for me.  To embrace a new rhythm of life.  As the days went on, I didn't feel the need to always be occupied and I relished in play time with the children.  The children are on site, working, for as long as the work day goes on.  But, being children, they still make time to play and we were lucky to engage with their free spirits and innocent faces.  Just looking at them added another layer of joy to the work day.  It is easy to become attached to them.  They are so open to love and to receive love.  Unhardened by life.  And as for time, it just slipped by, lunch was served before I could ask what time it was.

And as for my physical contribution, I was contributing.  I was swinging those cement filled buckets and passing those 40 pound cinder blocks.  And although I could have stepped out of the human chain at any given time and it would have still choo choo'd along, it was about the camaraderie that you feel being a part of it.  Receiving and passing the bucket of cement as it splashes all over your already stained, wet work clothes, well, it's just pure fun.  

There was so much more than the work day.  There were water fights, which were quite welcomed for the cooling sensation that you felt after the initial shock.  And the nights of learning to dance the bachata, and drink rum.  There was plenty downtime to absorb the days work. And when the house was built, the rest of our days in the Dominican were nothing but pure bliss.  All in all, the right balance of all elements made for a perfect 10 days that gets 10 gold stars from me.  I, however, could not have made it through, if not for those crazy girls of mine.  So a little thank you to them, for creating a successful healing environment.  I love our midnight chats and the open arms that you always welcome my outbursts with.  If you are reading this, thank you.

Entwined in the sweat, cement, music and laughter of the Village of Las Charcas, we learnt the meaning of Dominican time, style and rhythm.  Human strength, skill, cooperation and generosity flowed endlessly from the community and has thus changed the course of one more family.  In exchange for three days of our time and efforts, we were given unforgettable memories and have returned to our homes, soul enriched.  For us, our lives have been forever touched.  For them, they have a place to call home, to grow and flourish, and to create a legacy for their family.

We said our good-byes, but left behind our words spread across the wooden beam of the roof in crayon colours and our names engraved in the cement of the back step.  At first, yes, these faces were unfamiliar, but in the end, they felt like family.

I have never understood the definition of community.  Or the importance of it.  I get it now, because I felt it. 

Thailand: from the beginning. Bit by bit.

The Basics:
First Country:  Thailand
Cities Visited:  Bangkok & Chiang Mai
Family Members:  Mom, Dad, Sister, Aunt, First Cousin, Great Aunt, Great Uncle & 3rd Cousin.  That makes a total of nine family members (including me).
Time:  5 days

The Highlights:
1. The Chatrium Hotel
2. Eating at our lovely five star hotel, The Chatrium
3. Enjoying the peace, cleanliness, warmth & comfort of our clean, peaceful, warm & comfortable accommodations
4. Starbucks
5. Free wireless internet. Access to paid internet.
6. The Thai names of the hotel employees, such as:  Thampon, Pornsak

Okay, on a more serious note, the fun festivities included:

1. Lost in Bangkok with sister and great uncle (Bangkok)
2. Foot massages (Bangkok & Chiang Mai)
3. Morning call to prayer (Bangkok)
4. Shopping at the night markets (Chiang Mai)
5. All day, outdoor, Thai cooking class located by calm, clean, peaceful rice fields with water buffalo (Chiang Mai)
6. Riding in the Tuk Tuks (Bangkok)
7. Lunch by a lovely waterfall (Chiang Mai)
8. Appreciation for the Thai language - 44 alphabets, 26 vowels & 5 tones...kaa

The not so fun festivities:

1.  Elephant Camp
2. Tiger paradise - the tiger peed on my dad
3. Traffic & honking (however, looking back, this was nothing compared to Pakistan)
4. Saying good-bye to two family members & continuing on without them...

Ah, where to begin.  How about the plane? Well this is where the physical journey begins.

I can't tell you how many times this past month I have heard the redundant safety announcement play in my ears like an annoying fly that just won't go away.  Yes, we will put on our seatbelt, stay seated when there's turbulence, use the life jackets stored under the seats, and as for the breathing mask, we will definitely help ourselves, before assisting our friendly neighbour, don't worry. Oh, lest not forget the bonus at the end of the announcement on Thai Airways - they have this little jingle play while two beautiful Thai employees/actors, wearing perfectly pressed purple suits, smile at you from the overhead TV screen.  And the jingle goes something like this, "da da daaaa, a touch of thaiii-laaand", the pitch starts loud and high and then softens towards the end.  And then sudden silence, as though a classical concert just ended and we are to rise and clap for the amazing harmony. Not a chance, the busy buzz of the plane quickly fills the void and we're off...

This sweet song is passing through my mind as I recall our days in Thailand. So what highlight from above is worthy of elaboration...I must say it was the day of getting lost in Bangkok! The day it was three.  Me, my sister and our great uncle.  What a pairing for such a surprisingly, unforgettable day! It started off with the entire family at the mall...and here at the mall, I ingested the most delicious, fresh, mango juice I have ever had in my life.  After that, no juice could compare and through the whole trip I searched for this authentic flavor, but never did anything match that one and only time. "The first breath [...] is the freest." - a quote I read, it has nothing to do with mango juice, but it seemed fitting.  Anyways, after the nine enjoyed the juice, 6 retired for the day and returned to our lovely, comfortable, peaceful, five star hotel, and the three of us, continued on...

Our first stop, foot massages.  An hour foot massage for $150 baht...$5 USD, not bad at all!  We giggled and snapped pics all the way through it.  I wasn't even bothered by the creepy man massaging my great uncle.  Every time I opened my eyes from the heavenly bliss of a relaxing massage, he was peeping and smiling, eek.  We think he thought something other than what was the case.  And the case was two grand nieces enjoying an outing with their grand uncle!  Well, you never know, this is the land of the lady boys.

After our massage, we had every intention of returning straight home. We wanted to be a little adventurous and rather than taking a taxi back to our hotel, as we had always done, we decided to take a Tuk Tuk!  Our lack of speaking Thai, and the drivers inability to understand English, turned into one hell of a ride.  We went in circles, physically and verbally.  Our driver gave up on locating our hotel and dropped us off in the middle of no where.  The three of us were so giddy from being on this adventure that being lost was hilarious and so fun!

The day developed into asking for directions, over and over again, shopping for silk shirts, taxi ride times two, boat ride times two..and eventually 5 hours, one silk shirt, and hundreds of pictures later, we arrived back at our hotel.  Not one of us could stop talking about the calamity we found ourselves in!

Travelling seems to be enhanced by the moments you create while in one place or the other and whom you create them with.  Or, it's just the right place, at the right time, with a little bit of luck that creates a surprisingly wonderful time.

"The best times may be measured not by where one wanders, but by the friendships and the relationships that one forges once there.  The landscapes then act as mere vehicles for delightful moments."

Remembering Thailand, begins to remove Pakistan.  That's a good thing.

Bad Case of Jet Lag

Seven days since I've been home and my Canadian rhythm is no where to be seen.  So as I sit here at 1:10 am, wide awake (on Valentines day, I might add), it's a good moment to spew out some of the thoughts that have been gathering in my mind since I've returned from my whirlwind trip to South(east) Asia.

It was a trip like no other.  And I haven't yet digested all that I have seen. Since I've returned, I've been asked, "How was it?" I try to describe the "how" of three countries in a nice little bow of an answer, but it hasn't been quite right. The answer appears in some pieced together, sentence, sounding something like, "yeah, it was good, and bad.  I'm happy to be home, so, how are you?" Perhaps a diversion to give me a little more time to assess my feelings and endless thoughts that keep floating through my mind.

I feel that I have returned with an emptiness and I am struggling to get it back.  Somehow, in a months time, my reserve of inspiration, positivity and goodness has been depleted and I am running on empty. I read once that we need to continue to absorb new things to jolt our creativity and so it is important to take yourself on dates, it can be to an art gallery, a walk in a park, a new movie...anything that may give you new ideas.  This leads me to the cliche saying that we have all heard, "you are what you see [or do, or read, etc...].  I have observed so much destruction and ugliness this past month, that I feel this is what is pouring from me these past seven days.  Don't panic, it's not that obvious.  But I feel it.  So friends, please send me your inspirational TED talks, Twitter quotes, and remind me to look at my vision board.  Too dramatic? Okay, it could just be a bad case of jet lag.

As Pakistan was our last stop, this country is what lingers in my mind the most.  In an attempt to spit out the harshness of the City of Karachi that lingers in my being, below is my personal vent session to expel the negativity.

1. Unless you have nerves of steel, don't get in a car, ever.
2. If you do get in a car, take ear plugs, to drown out the relentless honking.
3. Be prepared for the beggars, the professional beggars, the transvestite beggars, and their nasty finger nails dragging along your passenger side car window.
4. If you don't want to be stared at, constantly, dress local.
5. If you have a weak stomach, don't go to the open air, fish market, or just take a mask.
6. Visit the sea, ride a camel there, this will allow you to feel free, for just a moment.
7. Don't expect to go out alone, for a walk, for a coffee, for...anything. It's not safe.
8. Take lots of Pepto Bismol.
9. Have access to lots of bottled water.
10. Perhaps just wear a mask all the time to protect you from the dust, everywhere.

Minor exaggeration above, so I have created a list below of what I am thankful for, in Canada.

1. Freedom
2. Silence while driving.
3. While driving, I don't have, cars, bikes, motorcycles or cows, coming at me.
4. Scary men don't stare.
5. Independence.
6. Coffee shops.
7. Waking up before noon.
8. Eating dinner before 10 pm.
9.  Being productive.

Well, that was somewhat therapeutic.

Good night.

Kalaw - the things I felt, saw & smelled

And so we have returned to Yangon from our 14 hour bus ride (each way) to and from Kalaw.  Our rickety bus, manned by two local Myanmar drivers led us on our journey and they served us well.  We arrived back in Rangoon, safe and sound, thanks to their ability to weave the highways of no rules, the country of no roads, and the villages of no English.  The bus, that creaked and moaned all the way, (buses in Myanmar aren't in the best condition, and this one, amongst other things, needed new shock absorbers), slowly climbed the mountain to the Shan States.  The country road was poorly paved here and there and had rock and dirt in other areas. To sum it up, the ride was bumpy, all the way. We all faced the motion sickness with strength!

Kalaw is at about 4,800 feet above sea level and I didn't know what was to be faced as we ascended the mountain.  We passed by sights that transported me back in time.  I saw water buffalo pulling wooden carts full of straw.  I saw ladies with their faces covered with thanaka (a paste that is extracted from the bark of the Sandal Wood tree - you just rub the piece of bark against a course stone and add a touch of water, this creates a paste.  The women put it on their faces to protect against the sun.  It also works as a mask.).  I saw these ladies in traditional dress, a long skirt and blouse (longyi aingy) and carrying a basket full of items on their head.  These baskets were large and heavy, and they walked with ease and steadiness.  I saw army trucks still surviving from war time, packed to the brim with goods and people - the people are on the hood of the car and pouring from the back of the trucks.  I saw huts made of straw, weaved mats and sticks.  I saw men bathing outside with buckets of water.  I saw women at the road side breastfeeding.  I saw wild animals, sometimes pets, sometimes not.  These included pigs, roosters, water buffalo, cows, and even an elephant.  I also saw the most beautiful fields of yellow sunflowers, the sky filled with the brightest orange glow as the sun was setting, and as it set, the orange settled to a pale pink and spread across the horizon.  I saw mango trees, avocado trees, eucalyptus trees and through the air was the scent of pine, from the pine trees. My family knew they had returned to their home, when the the scent of pine filled the air.  I saw happy children playing in the streets, flying their kites.

I saw endless natural beauty as we traveled to Kalaw. And then we arrived to our Hilltop Resort and this is where my sensations of wonder, inspiration, awe and sometimes sadness, were overtaken by sensations of desperation for basic necessities.  These included heat and hot water.  Not basic for the people of Myanmar, but basic for me.  What I didn't realize was that Kalaw was cold.  Very cold - at night, and in the morning.  When the sun sets and before the sun rises, one will freeze in Kalaw.  It is a place of drastic changes, and not only in weather.  During the day it is hot, over 25 degrees Celsius and then at sun set, it quickly decreases, to less than 5 degrees Celsius.  There is no heat in the rooms.  And then, no hot water.  So, what I (we) felt at these times, was shivers, when you are cold to the core, and unstoppable chattering of teeth. And when I experienced the cold shower, with little water, well, I'll let you imagine how I screamed my way through it. 

More to come on the sights of sounds of Kalaw.

kyae zuu tin par thi (thank you in Burmese)

So much to say, so little time

A touch of Thailand came and went like a breeze.  Still so much to say, but here we are in Myanmar and I am overwhelmed with the sights, sounds and smells.  We are leaving in half an hour to travel up country on a 14 hour bus ride to Kalaw and so I will try to record some of what was observed yesterday.

Our first day in Rangoon (Yangon) was incredible.  I have words of beauty, disappointment and sadness floating through my mind.  The phrase that comes to my mind, to express to you what I observed is "the land that once was".  There is such hidden and forgotten wonder in the streets and the buildings.  But if you look closely, it's there.  The solid bones of columns and brick are crumbling, but still holding on, for change.  The hanging iron gates, faded and stained colours, and overgrown landscapes are begging to be seen once again. 

But, my family, they see it.  They know what Myanmar used to be and they still see it in their hearts.  My families former homes and places of business that we visited yesterday became filled with sounds of shock and sadness that poured from us as we toured through.  And then the van ride after - it was silent.  As many reflected.  And dealt with the reality of what is now and what was then.

Let's Recap Some of Bangkok

A few days, a few sights and lots of laughs.

Picture 9 family members caravaning through Bangkok.  Our ages range from the freshness of 23 to the wiseness of 87.  How does this grouping work?  My theory is that we are all on this journey for our own personal reasons and they seem to be, for now, complimentary.  Some may be simply sight seeing and adding yet another country to their travel repertoire.  Others may be doing it for the company - consistent togetherness may be placed as a priority at a certain time in one's life for reflection and enjoyment.  We may be travelling to far off, foreign places but, for some, what better way to remember, than to return to where you started and be with those you love.  And still others are expanding from the inside, viewing other ways of life, deepening their understanding of the world and therefore, themselves.  Whatever reason it may be, here is how we spent our days, together.

Let's be more specific on how we traveled to and fro the sites of Bangkok.  We opted to use the Tuk Tuk service.  A Tuk Tuk is a three wheeler scooter that has a seat in the back for two (sometimes more) passengers.  The Tuk Tuk follows no rules on the road and weaves in and out of traffic as it pleases, including driving straight into on-coming cars, trucks, buses, and fellow Tuk Tuk drivers.  As we brushed death a few times, our outbursts of screams and laughter poured from this open air, fume protruding, mode of transportation.  As we were 9, we were split between two Tuk Tuk's and watching the other group of 3 -4 squeezed in and holding on for dear life was hysterical as they whizzed by or vice versa. And so the Tuk Tuk took us to the Golden Palace, the Golden Statue, and we were blinded by the bling bling here, there and everywhere.  Excuse my lack of enthusiasm, but personally, commercial sight seeing isn't my cup of tea.  Nonetheless, the observation of the city, the people and the way of life was fulfilling.  I received more than enough of this to feel satisfied.

As we were driving from one sight to the next, our Tuk Tuk driver would say, "I take you fashion, you look five minute."  "I take you jewelery, very nice." Great, we wanted to shop, let's go! We arrive at a tailor shop.  We walk in and there are approximately 10 blue suited sales people ready to take your measurements and sell you some "real thai silk" and guarantee that "it be ready tonight".  Our party of 9 got out of there fast and furious.  After a few of these not so impressive shopping excursions, we caught on to the trick.  Our sweet, non-english speaking drivers get a commission of some sort when they bring customers to certain stores.  Our driver got free gas.  Happy we could be of service.

Now let's go do some real shopping.