Humanity is a spectrum of experience.
Kori Price
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A Broken Glass Half Full

12/10/2014

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CAMBODIA
My first week in Cambodia has been like a figurative 10-blade to the heart. I began my usual sightseeing with a visit to the Choeung Ek Killing Fields Memorial—one of the more than 300 found throughout the country where Cambodians were delivered by truck in the middle of the night, blindfolded, brutally beaten to death, then thrown into pits to rot amongst a pile of other bodies. I followed that up with the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, which was formally a prison for those that were eventually taken to the killing fields. Shortly after that, I watched The Killing Fields, a documentary that depicts the story of this period through the eyes of an American journalist. By the end of this day, I was left gutted with tears of compassion while also feeling incredibly bothered by my oblivion, shocked by the history, devastated by the tragedy and moved by the resilience of the Cambodian people. 
If you’re as clueless as I was, allow me to brief you. The Khmer Rouge, a communist party led by Pol Pot in Cambodia between 1975-1979, was made up of poor, uneducated boys from the country that were given a gun, fed an ideology and promised a better life. During this time, the Khmer Rouge forced over 2 million people from cities to the country to work laborious hours in the rice fields and other agricultural chores. They controlled how the captured Cambodians acted, what they wore, how they could talk and many other things. If they disobeyed, they were killed. By the time their rule had ended, the Khmer Rouge had killed over 3 million innocent people including intellectuals, city-dwellers, minorities and even their own party members if they were presumed disloyal. Pol Pot believed it “better to risk killing the innocent than risk not killing the enemy.” Their goal was to rid of capitalism entirely and create a strictly agrarian-based society. Seems a little anti-productive to kill off all the people that are doing the hard labor, right? Regardless, after four years, the Khmer Rouge was driven out after an invasion by Vietnam. Legal matters are still ongoing. 
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Over 8000 skulls, arranged by sex, are visible behind the clear glass panels of the Memoral Stupa. ©Richard Traveler Smith, 2014 http://hypothermiasfun.blogspot.com/
Just when I didn’t know I could gain anymore respect and compassion for the people in this country, last night, a group of friends and I went to the Siem Reap Circus expecting popcorn, clowns and acrobatic animals. What we saw was quite different. This show was more like Cirque du Soleil with a fusion of local music, art, theater and powerful storytelling. The story they told was a before, during and aftermath of the Khmer Rouge rule in Cambodia. Through incredibly talented entertainment, they depicted how even though Cambodia suffered so much loss, they chose to move on together with optimism and fortitude. They will never let what happened to them be forgotten, but they will also not let it stop them from laughing, living and thriving. 

To say this is one of the truest and most tragic forms of genocide that has ever occurred would be ignorant. Mass killings of any sort, which have always and will always continue to occur—take ISIS, for instance—remains entirely cruel and inhumane no matter what the circumstances. Although the culmination of these educational experiences has left me in a state of naive confusion and anger, this has ultimately been one of the more humbling experiences I have ever had—to finally absorb and witness the aftermath of a true tragedy. People that are 36 or older survived and still live to see the new dawn of their country after the Khmer Rouge carnage (but may have never met their families), and anyone younger was born to people that survived. I'm just so sad they had to go through something so nefarious. Cambodia deserves over three million medals for their forgiveness and fortitude. All that said, I think I'll learn a lot from these people.
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Full Throttle Through Phú Quốc

12/2/2014

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VIETNAM
I decided to skip northern Vietnam this time and set route to Phnom Penh via slow boat on the Mekong Delta (that blog will be posted soon). However, just before the final leg of the three-day trek I read about Phú Quốc, a nearby island and actually the largest in Vietnam. It is well-known for its beautiful, sandy beaches, fresh seafood, fish sauce (made from anchovies), unique black pepper and most recently, pearls. So before I could say groper, I found myself embarking into the Gulf of Thailand on yet another new, spontaneous adventure (3hr bus/2hr boat for $18).

Whilst on the journey I met a family from Poland and we chatted the entire way. They asked if I was traveling alone and gave forth high praise for the guts, but I just thought, you’re traveling with two young children through Southeast Asia…that’s respect. I also introduced them to my newfound travel obsession, the National Geographic Travel Guide (http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/travel/city-guides/). Due to its history, culture, religion and etiquette coverage, as well as the details of a true off-the-grid experiences, its like the North Star in the galaxy to all other guide books. 

Finally the boat docks and all I can think is, MASSAGE ON THE BEACH. I’ve yet to get back rub here in the land of $5/hr massages but after five weeks, I finally feel like I’ve earned it. Alas, like every country in Southeast Asia, as soon as you depart the boat/bus/train/taxi/tuktuk/minivan, there are always a dozen or more local motorbike men that swarm the exiting passengers like mosquitos hoping you’ll choose them to take you to your next destination. Little do they know, I like the quiet guy in the back who calmly waits for me to inhale/exhale, grab my bag and take a sip of water (or beer) before making my next move. He’s hard to notice, but he’s always there, and I always choose him.

So Yó, my new motorbike friend, and I set off north for the Mushroom Guesthouse ($6/night) in Duonng Dong, the main hustle and bustle hub for tourists right in the center of the island. During the drive, I noticed the freshly paved roads, fancy new airport and a wide variety of restaurants and bars with style and flair, but surprisingly this island is not as touristy or popular as I thought it would be. It’s fast growing, but still developing in a lot of ways.Yó very kindly offered to rent me his family’s motorbike for “cheap cheap” and I had a tinge of excitement at the notion, but mostly a flames of fear. 

Why, you ask? Let me tell you something about Southeast Asian motorbikes: They are literally everywhere—we’re talking for every one person in Vietnam, there are three scooters…thats 27,000,000 choppers! Locals pile them full, three or four at a time and/or carry objects that should never be logically transported by a moped (e.g.: TV screens, mattresses, window frames, etc). With thousands of these little revving machines on the road at the same time piling up like mobile rubbish on city street corners, you’d think there must be injuries and accidents abound. But no. The only people I’ve seen with a motorbike injury are tourists, hobbling around Asia like hospital patients—bandaged from elbow to wrist, thigh to angle, head to toe. Forget malaria pills! We need motorlaria prevention! This observation is the main reason I’ve been hesitant to rent a scooter. We’ve neither had the nature nor the nurture to handle this kind of motorbike exposure in such strong doses. 

However, I found peace in the tranquility of this island almost instantaneously and concluded that this would be a perfect place to learn how to roll around on motorbike. After all, the literal translation of Phú Quốc means "prosperous country"—how could I not prosper at whatever it is I set my mind to? 

So, I turned to Yó and said with attitude, “Yó, teach me how to scooty.” 

With warranted apprehension, he rambled out a few incomprehensible driving tips, handed over the keys and set me free. Seconds later, I ran into a building. 


Try, try again they say. After two days, I managed to circumnavigate the island (50km/31mi) in bits and pieces, however I did nearly run over a human and maul over an entire vegetable display, as well as passionately crashing face first into two different, incredibly overbearing mud ponds. Let's be real, who has ever prospered without a little failure along the way? I think it’s safe to say I am ready for more scooty in my life, but would never suggest anyone to be my passenger just yet.

As for Phú Quốc, it’s been a leisurely, lively break from the rest of my go-go destinations. I made a new lifelong friend, played limbo with locals, ate my first Discus (fish) and sipped down my first cup of snake/scorpion/seahorse vodka (good for your health, says Mama & Papa). 

Next stop: Phnom Pen. For real this time. 

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Crikey, it's a cockroach!

11/5/2014

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“I believe that education is all about being excited about something. Seeing passion and enthusiasm helps push an educational message.”  -Steve Irwin
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The research below is meant to rid myself of an unnecessary phobic response to cockroaches so that next time I find a cockroach crawling on me in my top-bunk dorm bed, I won’t shriek and leap off to my near death. I learned this method from a new friend from England (thank you, Laura), but have adapted it. She said she cured her fear of spiders by imitating Steve Irwin--state the scene, describe the critter and chronicle the peaceful removal of the spider from said spot of discomfort. To both our shock and awe, it worked! So, if you're like me and find yourself cringing, leaping, running or screaming at the site of any cockroach, I welcome you to join me while I mix detailed research, comforting knowledge and an exuberant Aussie accent to forever banish our cockroach creeps.

What is so scary about a cockroach anyway? Yes, they’re creepy looking pests, but more specifically, they are the most primitive winged insects still with us. They are modern day ancestors for bloody sake! They prefer warm conditions, which is why they can be found within buildings, but can survive better than cavemen in freezing temps. They’re mainly nocturnal (except for the Asian cockroach, which seems to prefer [reading] light[s in hostels]). The spines on their legs help in locomotion on difficult terrain (actually their legs have inspired robotic legs). They leave behind chemical trails in their feces, as well as emit airborne pheromones for swarming and mating (nothing a Lysol wipe can't fix). Female cockroaches may produce up to 300 to 400 offspring in a lifetime and development from eggs to adults takes apps 3-4 months. Males have been known to live for up to four years. They are often heard hissing or chirping (these sounds have regional additions and variations for mating purposes). 

Cockroaches are omnivorous (except for a few wood-eating species) and breath through the tracheae. They can remain capably active for over a month without food, but still need only very limited resources (eg. glue form postage stamps) and can go without air for over 45 minutes. Drowning them would be ineffective. They can survive even after being decapitated. They are radiant resistant…it is popularly suggested that cockroaches would inherit the earth if humanity destroys itself in a nuclear war. Cockroaches are linked to allergic reactions in humans, but nothing more dangerous than that. In fact, ethnic tribes in Southern China near the Vietnam border use cockroaches to treat ailments and energies (such as burns, heart disease, hepatitis, trauma, etc). Hm, maybe I’ll get myself some cockroach balm while I’m here. Even more, in the 1870s, many New Orleans folk had strong faith in a remedy of boiled cockroach tea (and kids, you can even try that at home). 

Point is, cockroaches are bloody cool. I'd guess, if a transformer were a bug, it’d probably be a cockroach.  

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Slowboat to Luang Prabang (capital of Laos)

11/1/2014

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Right now I’m staring at a Japanese man that looks like a Thai celebrity (I only know that because someone told me). He’s gazing at a pensive Italian girl with wonderment. Meanwhile, I’m sandwiched between a napping Aussie and a South African bru that I think is playing footsie with me, but I can’t be sure. The sound of the slow boat motor is revving so loud, I can barely hear the jokes he might be shouting. I’ve grown fond of the sweat dripping down my back and neck at all times as it distracts me from the awkward smells of these Southeast Asian countries. Right now it’s the faint smell of tuna from a snoozing Canadian’s soggy, half-eaten sandwich. There’s a small window open about 12-feet way and outside, I can see glimpses of the Mekong River, followed by luscious green forest that seems to never end. I wish I could see more, but they overbooked our boat and our tour group was behind (beyond our control). Actually, we were informed upon arrival that the boat was oversold and we could either convince another crew to take us or somehow cram ourselves inside. We chose the latter. So here we sit, lay, stand and maneuver amongst each other in the back cargo room, with the backpacks and a slew of other worldly travelers, interspersed with a few local Laotian families. With 8-hours of floating ahead of us, we occupy ourselves with books, music, sleep or curious observation. I can't help but amused in my own thoughts of how I got here...

After nearly six days in Chiang Mai, I was feeling restless. I knew I should probably follow the masses and go to Pai, a popular tourist town just a short bus ride away, but for some unidentified reason, that direction was not tugging on my heart strings. Before I really had time to contemplate, I found myself on a mini-bus to Luang Prabang (capital of Laos) via a package deal, which involved a three day bus and slow boat ride down the Mekong River. 

DAY #1: Pleased with this spontaneous choice, I sat myself at the very back of the van like the cool kid I am and became instant buddies with the cute fellow next to me. We spent the next six hours bolstering our love of travel and seriously discussing our qualms with humanity's inability to recognize the importance of wildlife conservation, which perked up the other ten passengers for random bits of time. It was a pleasant bus ride, but I'm not sure any of us knew how well we were about to get to know each other. Our first pit stop was in Chiang Rai (Northern Thailand) to see Wat Rong Khun (The White Temple), which looks like it came down from heaven, but was touched by hell. It has to be the most beautifully intricate Buddhist temple in Thailand (out of 33,000, not bad). It’s magical, yet morbid. It has an all-white exterior (representing Buddha's purity), a mirrored trimming (symbolizing self-reflection) and a bridge (dare I say dragon sleigh?) to the entrance, which crosses over a sea of arms reaching out for help from the fiery depths of hell. It features skulls, demon heads and pop-cultural figures from the underworld, which apparently represent omens of what is to come. Inside, the temple moves from pristine to bewildering. Murals depict swirling orange flames and demon faces, interspersed with Western idols such as Michael Jackson, Neo from The Matrix, Freddy Kruger and a T-800 series Terminator. More depictions of nuclear warfare, terrorist attacks and oil pumps hammer home the destructive impact that humans have had on earth. After awhile, you get the point: humanity is undeniably wicked. 

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On that realistic low note from heaven (or hell), we got back in the bus and continued on to Chiang Khong, a village just shy of the border where people stay the night before entering Laos. Of course, what should have been a night of rest and recharge became a night of wild, bonding debauchery at a place called Hub Pub, owned by Alan Bate, a boisterous English bloke that, get this, was the world record holder for fastest time to circumnavigate the world by bicycle in 2012 (106 days, 10hrs, 33 mins). Needless to say, it was a fabulous riot. The bar was full of backpackers from around the globe, all getting beautifully ripped by who? Yours truly! Why, you ask? Because at some point, Alan, his wife (celebrating her birthday) and their Dutch bartender got too drunk to choose to function so somehow I wound up behind the bar serving drinks until the wee hours. 

DAY #2: The sleeping Aussie has been replaced by a snoring German with a man bun. I've concluded the South African is definitely playing footsie with me. Everyone looks damp and hungover, except for the English girl in the corner swigging on her own bottle of Hong Kong rum. I can't help but grimace and it's my own fault. It's Halloween day, but due to our hangovers, that seems to phase no one. My butt is sore from every angle, but as uncomfortable as I’ve made everything sound, I’m still amused. My mind, body and senses are intrigued, stimulated and constantly seeking more of this breath of new, sometimes stinky air. Unwavering and content, a local Laos woman sits calmly by the small window, watching her country pass her by. I crave to see it. However, even though I am missing the outside, I feel the inside is just as much a part of this experience. Efficient travel and living (almost too much) within their means is a consistent feature of these cultures. I met a guy from Belgium who has been cycling this region for over two years since his girlfriend committed suicide. He said nothing seemed to make sense anymore so he just started pedaling. He said people here need less, want less and are demanded of less. That’s why the suicide and depression rate is so much lower. Powerful point of view from a broken Belgium man on a bicycle. 

We finally came to our place of rest for the evening…PakBang, a small Laos village along the Mekong jungle mountainside and were bombarded by business hungry locals hoping to recruit as many bedless travelers as they could for one night only. Within fifteen minutes, I was in a truck, at a guest house and drinking a cold Beerlao for just 300 baht. Could have gone cheaper, but for just $9, I had wi-fi, air con and toilet paper. What more could a girl need? We wandered over to the nearest restaurant with a cookie cutter menu, but the owner guaranteed it was, “Same same, but better.” He also claimed to have shot the buffalo in Laos with his own bow & arrow. Little did he know, he had us at the free banana whisky shots, which he made himself, of course. 


DAY #3: We arrive to the slow boat JUST in time to catch a seat in the front…literally, the last seats. Phew. After an entire day watching my fellow travelers sweat it out, now I’m ready to watch indigenous folk in their natural habitat. And oh, how culturally spectacular it is. The muddy-watered Mekong flows between voluptuous mountains, heart-stopping karsts and vibrant green, complicated rainforests gushing out the sides. I keep having jungle like urges to leap of this boat and find a way inside, but the reality is, that’s just not possible. Unless you’re an Avatar. I’ll work on it. I’m desperately keen to absorb some literary history as we float, but my LP (Lonely Planet) is never here when I need it…it's typically stuffed in the depths of Sebastian (my trusty backpack) who is busy having an orgy fest with all the other backpacks on board, like a chump. This is the final push of the voyage to Luang Prabang, which consists of another 8-hour slow boat float. Not sure what to expect upon arrival, but so far, Laos is taking my breath away. 

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Chillin' in Chiang Mai (Thailand)...

10/24/2014

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Chiang Mai is a bustling little city in north Thailand full of smoky, delicious and dirt cheap food carts, thai housewives on motor bikes and myriad monks (still don't know how to act around a monk, but I impulse to pulling my skirt lower, hugging my shoulders and frowning....awkward much?). 

While here I got to attend the local Loy Krathong (Festival of Lights) where everyone gathers to set off thousands of lanterns in sync creating a miraculous night sky. This was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. I was lucky to be there with new and old friends (one who had been before) so I didn't have to absorb this magical moment alone. 

I spent the next few days staying at the Diva Guest House and blending like a local. On most days, I rented a bicycle, lazed around in my hammock, read on the rooftop, wrote in different coffee shops and ate more Khao soi (a local special) than I should have. It was splendid.

My first goal for this adventure was to learn how to take a step back from the busy, incredibly distracted bubble I call "my life" to slow down and reflect. Thanks to chill Chiang Mai, I started this journey off just they way I intended. 

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Khao soi: a traditional dish from Northern Thailand prepared with both crispy and soft egg noodles, potatoes, mushrooms, tofu and spicy curry (comes with chicken, pork or tofu). 

LOY KRATHONG

Loy Krathong is an event which does not occur on the same date every year; instead it counts on the full moon night of the twelfth lunar month. People look forward to going out and launching Krathongs together to predict the romance future by the direction the Krathongs float. This particular Loy Krathong celebration refers to flying away misfortune and bad things in the past and asking for good luck in the future.

TIPS FROM ME:
  • Arrive early (between 3-5pm).
  • Share a tuk tuk with a big group to keep cost low.
  • Be hungry!
  • Bring a fan, umbrella and hat.
  • Don't buy lanterns until you enter the REAL gate (which is also when they make you finish your beer).
  • Bring a camera with a really good zoom.
  • Keep in mind, it is poor Thai etiquette to step over people so don't work your way closer by doing so.
  • Watch out for fireworks!
  • There are three releases (the Buddah, the Teachings and Community). Buy three lanterns and don't forget a lighter. 


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A Bounce Through Bangkok

10/23/2014

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After 33 hours of travel, my arrival to Bangkok was nothing short of a spectacular relief. Insanely dressed in a (culturally appropriate) floor length skirt and long sleeve shirt, I was dripping sweat before leaving the terminal. I sailed through immigration after receiving a free 30-day visa stamp for Thailand (note: entering by land only grants a 15-day visa). I'd booked a bed at Bodega Bangkok from Hostelworld.com (highly recommend this site if you like to book ahead of time) and was determined to get there via the cheapest route possible. This meant AirTran (FREE) to Subway (27 baht, roughly .83 cents) and a long walk through some hectic Bangkok sois (streets).

Upon arrival, I instantly met a professional jump-roper from Baltimore (Note to self: check out CirqueDream). She had been (diarrhea) sick for two entire weeks (even hospitalized for five days) and invited me out for her first meal since it all began. What did she choose? WAFFLES. Did I come all this way to the culinary capital of the world to eat waffles?! I don't think so. I did join her though. And then broke away to wander where I discovered my overall opinion of Bangkok is average mainly because nothing really appealed to me at that moment in time. But then again, cities usually never appeal to me. I realized I've had this vision of Southeast Asia for a long time, and Bangkok is SO far from that image that I could not shake it. 

Considering Bangkok is home to over 8 million people (comparable to NYC), the streets are overcrowded with (hazardous) food carts, maniacal motorbike drivers, vendor tents with all the same various goods and bundles of (mostly empty) tuk-tuks. The sidewalks are hardly manageable for pedestrians to walk on and amidst all this chaos are the gnarliest smells that only rats should know about. What a way to kill an appetite. But contrary to my novice nose, everyone eats the next-to-nothing-but-oh-so-delicious street food. Apparently, many Thai families don't even have kitchens in their homes. So I get it. They are trying to feed their people...all 8 million of them + the nearly 30 million tourists that pass through their city on an annual basis. I just feel like they could be a little more innovative with their set up. I know I sound like a diva, but it's a logistical nightmare--there is garbage, grease and gasoline fumes everywhere. Where is the government involvement in all of this? MUST RESEARCH. I definitely like that it seems to be run by the people, but they appear to have no sanitation or safety guidelines or concerns. 

But then there is night time. And this is when Bangkok sparkles. All the grime disappears, the lights come on and it feels like a less energy sucking Las Vegas. I went out to dinner with new friends (from America, Scotland, New Zealand & Sweden) and ate my first Thai meal--squid & rice & fried egg + Shanghai beer (100 baht / $3). It was divine. We proceeded to play our own version of King's Cup, Bangkok style (see rules below) and recruit a slew of other worldly comrades, all of us buzzing with energy from around the globe, brought together through our love of travel and adventure. This, I recalled, is the backpacker's life. You're never alone, you're never bored and you're always absorbing some form of culture just by putting yourself in a new place. It's spectacularly stimulating. 

King's Cup, Bangkok Style
Ace: Bust a move
2: Fuck you
3: Fuck me
4: Whores
5: Drive & Sing
6: Dicks
7: Heaven
8: Pick a date
9: Bust a Rhyme
10: Never Have I Ever
Jack: Make a Rule
Queen: Question Master
King: Jam Session (sing-along-song)

*Next day: Overnight train ticket, tuk-tuk to the Grand Palace, Buddah.
*Next stop: Chiang Mai 
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The final packing list for a Southeast Asia bound Female

10/21/2014

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They key to happiness was meeting Sebastian--an Osprey Porter 46 liter Travel Pack. His front loader flap beamed with lobster red joy as I explored all his thoughtful pockets and strategic clasps...my mind ran wild with the packabilities. He was everything I ever dreamed of. I could instantly trust he would always have my back, no matter what and carry my load even when I'm a bit too overbearing. And he knew that without me, he'd be empty and immobile. I asked fairypackmatch.com for three features in my perfect pack: 1) a front loader (let's be real, top loaders are just giant ass holes), 2) a safe pocket for my computer and 3) a bag small enough to carry on a plane, bus, boat or train. And it worked. It really worked. Once we met, everything else just kind of fell into...well, Sebastian like a dream, but with very little wiggle room. My biggest hassle was the nine months worth of daily contacts, which not everyone has to deal with. But Sebastian saw my vision, stretched his limits and made it possible. Such a gent. Also bear in mind, now that I am here I wish I'd brought less of my own clothes. Southeast Asia has an incredible collection of apparel that is not only appropriate for the culture, but dirt cheap for the budget traveler. So below is my ultimate (female) packing list for nine-months in Southeast Asia:

CLOTHES
3 t-shirts
3 long sleeve shirts
4 tanktops
2 skirts
1 pair of shorts
6 bras (variety of colors & functions)
6 panties
1 swimsuit
1 pair of sandals
1 pair of tennis shoes
2 Air tight plastic travel bags

ELECTRONICS
Phone + charger
GoPro + charger
Computer + charger
Solar Charger
USB Drive
Adapter
Extra charging cords

MISCELLANEOUS EXTRAS
Flashlight 
Headlamp
Hammock
Book
Travel Guide
Journal
Harmonica
Bungie Cord
Travel Pillow + mask + earplugs
Fanny pack
Passport wallet 
Lock
TOILETRIES
Tampons
Hair ties
Makeup (moisturizer, BB cream, mascara)
Laundry Wipes (travel size)
Toilet Paper
Toothbrush
Toothpaste
Floss
Deodorant
Dr. Bronners
Daily Contacts
Glasses (1 pair)
Brush
REI Travel Towel

HEALTH
Birth Control
Immodium (or diarrhea pills) 
Z-Pack(s)
Vagisil
Bacterial Wet Wipes
Hand Sanitizer 
Sunscreen
Bug Spray
Tiger Bomb *buy upon arrival, when needed
Baby Powder *buy upon arrival, when needed
First Aid Travel Kit (use your discretion) 

TRAVEL DOCUMENTS
Passport + copy
Extra passport photos
Alternate ID + copy
Debit Card + copy
Credit Card + copy
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Sappy Much?

10/4/2014

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Saying goodbye has never been one of my specialties. I generally avoid it like tiny, harmless spiders and if faced with it, run away faster than I do from my next karaoke performance…with humanity in mind, of course. Short term residency makes this kind of detachment a slight bit easier than saying goodbye to Jackson, Wyo. It’s been my home for more than five years. I’ve made some of the best friends of my life here--watched them come, and go, and come back again, and go again. This place, and a lot of the people in it, have a natural magnet for human beauty that support the nomad, adopt the dweller and enjoy the ephemeral. Although I am one of those people that supports, adopts and enjoys, I also passed the threshold of letting it go with emotional ease. With only four days left before I depart on my Southeast Asia journey, my heart keeps getting waves of warmth full of beautiful sentiment & nostalgic memories, followed by uncontrollable sappy tears that have yet to reach their full potential. 

However, the resolve of all this is appreciation and love--for a place, it's people and an irreplaceable and life-changing experience I've had. A new, refreshing friend wrote me a poem (dare I say, lyric?) the other day that’s fitting for my current life status in so many ways. It reminds me who I have been here, and how I have lived and interacted with the people I have met. We embrace the moment so, dare I say, epically. We showcase ourselves with such genuine ease and explosion. Our intake and release of experience proves unique and wonderful time and time again. We make memories that change us so subtly, but so powerfully that the the thought of forgetting them, let alone leaving a place where they happen so frequently is incredibly heart tweaking. Now, for the little ditty that describes so many of us Jackson folk:

Impressive little ember and your bright sharp stealthy sparks
You strive to be the ender in wars of witty remarks
A memory is a moment whose secrets have been revealed 
Then it fades slowly, and the truth of it again…concealed

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Finally, I Bought a One-Way Ticket to Bangkok…

9/3/2014

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As of Oct. 22, I will no longer be the girl who cried “moving to S.East Asia. It’s actually happening. In six short weeks, my trusted Teva flip-flops and I will step onto Bangkok pavement and embark on a two month backpacking adventure before settling down in the country of my choice to teach English. Although I have spent countless hours babysitting and nearly seven years of my life instructing swim lessons, I never thought teaching in a classroom setting would wind up on my résumé. But I also never knew traveling would become my main focus in life, second to somehow becoming a freelance writer. Alas, I’m not really the vacation type. I’m more the immersion type. I made a goal when I was 14 to live in at least 10 different places by the time I was 25—the only requirement was that I reside in the 'chosen place' for three months or more. I made it to six. Ergo, At 27-years-old, I have some catching up to do. 

Truly though, I studied journalism. I love writing. I am most inspired by personal experience and cultural diversity. I’m passionate about seeing the world and meeting the people in it. I’ve wanted to visit Southeast Asia for years now. What better job than teaching English in a foreign country? It’s an immediate in to the community (for optimum storytelling potential), it allows me to LIVE somewhere new and different and explore the globe in style--my style--and it provides the financial means to cover the survival factor. 

So, after buying my one-way ticket to Bangkok (for $607 on Eva Air), I enrolled in my 120-hour TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) certification course, which, including my college degree and enthusiastic attitude, will give me all the necessary requirements to get a job anywhere in the world.

*Two life lessons: the more you talk about something (no matter how long), the more likely you are to do it. And also, if you really want to do something, just do it—buy the ticket, quit your job and soar.


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Reunited and it feels so good.

10/1/2012

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My last serious blog was nearly two years ago when I ended my yearlong life as an au pair. To recap: I spent three months slaving away in Geneva, Switzerland, six weeks traipsing the United Kingdom, one month absorbing culture in Albania, two weeks carousing in Greece and three oddly therapeutic months in Brugg, Switzerland. That was an incredibly transforming year for me as a person and a writer. The unexpected adventures kept my pen scribbling constantly. 

PictureGrand Teton National Park
Upon return, my kaleidoscope moved me to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, impelled by a job offer for the Jackson Hole Wildlife Film Festival. I’ve been here nearly two years now, and accidently established a professional adult life. Really though, I actually have health insurance and a dental plan. I have become proficient in graphic/web design, event planning, volunteer coordination, marketing and social networking strategies. However, my passion and dream to be a travel journalist remains, and it seems to be the one trade I am not practicing, professionally or personally.

This morning, StumbleUpon brought me to Timothy Sweeney’s Internet Tendencies: “The Ultimate Guide to Write Better Than You Normally Do.” After reading it  I realized, how can I write better when I am not even writing at all? Feeling inspired to reconnect with my writing core, I transformed to a night owl with purpose and made a new logo, website and blog. I finally plan to stop talking about writing and start doing it, forever.

Below I have identified Sweeney’s essential tips with my immediate reactions and/or areas of weakness.
  1. Write every day
    Do the undeniably entertaining and witty emails that I send on a daily basis not count? Drats. 
  2. Don’t procrastinate
    Define procrastinate in one word…Netflix.
  3. Fight through writer’s block
    One cure to writer’s block? StumbleUpon. 
  4. Learn from the masters
    I take it you don’t mean Zeus…Okay, Hunter S. Thompson? 
  5. Find your muse
    Found it, but the challenge is writing without it.
  6. Hone your craft
    This blog is starting that.
  7. Ask for feedback
    I suppose criticism is one thing I'm good at receiving. I just need to ask for it. 
  8. Read, Read, Read
    Does 50 Shades of Grey count? Kidding, that book was terrible. I'm currently ingesting Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompsan...the true Gonzo Journalist. 
  9.  Study the rules, then break them
    Emmeline Pankhurst, pioneer for women’s rights in the UK, said it best, “We are here not because we are lawbreakers; we are here in our efforts to become lawmakers.” So, to be a literary pioneer, I must rebel and rewrite  the written protocol. Done. Easy. 
  10. Keep it together 
    Like a piñata at a birthday party versus a piñata at a birthday party in a mental hospital. Got it. 

And so it begins... 



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    On a quest to reconnect with passion, travel and the written word.

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    My Life as an Au Pair
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    ​Like, what's the deal...
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    Challenge your 'type'
    The thought that counts
    A Diet of Porn
    ​Escape a Traffic Ticket
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