A trip

Two weeks ago, I got back from a trip. It was a hard trip to take--at least, a hard trip to leave for. I had to be talked into it, by my husband, my family, my friends.

Because, you see, I was leaving them behind. Traveling with a fellow mama-friend, leaving the kids with the dads, and going to Beijing.

It was, honestly, as much about the getting away as the going. Getting much-needed sleep, letting Willa bond with Matt, simply being my own person again for a few days.

But we were surprised by Beijing--it's a pleasant, attractive city. Tree-lined sidewalks, wide avenues, and low-rise buildings all contribute to a welcome feeling of spaciousness (welcome compared to Hong Kong. Though after a few days it just felt like sprawl.)

Beijing is full of beautiful architectural details, serene gardens, weeping willows along the banks of lakes, and brightly lit red lanterns. There are babies with split pants toddling around, men with their shirts rolled up, and lots and lots of young adults (though noticeably few young children and pregnant women.) We saw very obvious plainclothes policemen all over Tianenamen Square and the Forbidden City (we were there on June 4), and security cameras everywhere.

Heaps of gorgeous cherries are sold from carts along the road, all sorts of foods are sold on a stick (MN State Fair, eat your heart out). Meat mooncakes made me take back every mean thing I've said about a mooncake. Haunting flute music drifted through the parks, luring us time and again to find the source. (We finally did, and were convinced to buy not only some recorded music but even a flute.) Tea taken under a mulberry tree with songbirds in bamboo cages overhead was the perfect restoration after hiking the Great Wall.

But of course, when one is a mama, especially a nursing mama, you never completely leave the kids behind. We were, both my friend and I, attached to our breastpumps multiple times a day, both to relieve the pain and to keep up the milk supply for our return. And while it certainly made me anxious to watch the supply dwindle day by day, now that it has returned I can exult in how amazing our bodies are, adapting so quickly to whatever is asked.

It was a short trip, and we didn't even see all the highlights of Beijing, much less the hidden, tucked away sights. But it was good, in the getting away, the going, and the coming back. You can't ask for much more than that.  

The jasmine lingers on...

As I unzip the suitcases, the scent of jasmine spills out, and I'm afraid for a moment that the essential oil we bought has leaked. But then I see that the container is still sealed, so it must just be the smell of Thailand in our clothes. Oh, but that we could keep that smell forever ...

We had a wonderful week in Chiang Mai, made even better by the fact that we were joined by my brother and his fiancee, and that Matt accepted a job (in Ohio!) the day before we left. It's been a long, tiring job search, and not only were we ready for a holiday, we were also aware that this was our last Asian vacation--our last trip before returning to the (relative) poverty of American teachers. (Oh wait, I forgot. Teachers are greedy and lazy, aren't they? What am I complaining about?)

I fell in love with several new dishes--stir-fried beef and basil, and larb gai, a minced chicken salad that is limey and spicy and so so good. And incidentally, we just got our weekly farm delivery and it's full of BASIL. So guess what we'll be making this weekend? Ah, just one more thing to miss about Hong Kong--fresh basil in the spring!

Visiting Doi Suthep temple, seeing the elephants (and getting sprayed by them!), plenty of shopping, plenty of time in the pool, several tuk-tuk rides and songtheow rides, and lots of other yummy food rounded out the week. Oh, and daily (sometimes twice daily) mango juices at our first hotel, and fresh lime sodas at the second. As Finn would say, it was "pretty good."

I'll be putting more pictures on flickr shortly. Stay tuned!

Postcards from Chiang Mai: beauty

from the top:

• scenes from a temple--Chiang Mai has many. 
• close-up of a textile. This will have to stand in for so much beauty filling the markets. These markets made me want to open a store, so overflowing were they with inexpensive, beautiful items: clothes, leatherwork, silverwork, lanterns, textiles, bags. Since coming back to Hong Kong I've noted that many shops here source from those markets.  
• And the lilies. Flowers are everywhere in Chiang Mai--lush, larger-than-life and dripping with fragrance.

You're going to have to use your imagination for the final bit of beauty--the picture is more to help your mind's eye rather than actually embodying the beauty itself. On New Year's Eve, the skies above Chiang Mai are filled with fireworks, sparklers, and these floating lanterns. Like mini hot air balloons, the lanterns are open only on the bottom, where an attached candle is lit. Once the lantern fills with heat, it rises above the treetops, carrying with it the hopes and dreams of the sender. Can you imagine? Even now it makes my heart rise up just to remember such magic. We rushed out the next morning to buy some before our flight home, and luckily found a stallholder not too hung over to open up and sell us some lanterns. But I'm thinking we should be able to figure out how to make them too ... any suggestions?  

Postcards from Chiang Mai: food

from the top: sugared (and salted!) strawberries for sale along the street, waffle-covered bananas and hotdogs (guess who loved that?), fixings for pad thai at the cooking class I attended, and green  curry with chicken from said cooking class. Needless to say, it was a delicious week.

Christmas part three: Postcards from Chiang Mai

On the day after Christmas (Boxing Day, they call it here) we skipped town and headed to Chiang Mai, Thailand. And friends, if Hong Kong is, as I said recently, not our city, then Chiang Mai most definitely is. We loved it ... felt comfortable and new all at once, with plenty to learn and explore but the quirky, artsy feel of a college town. If HK is designer, then Chiang Mai is handmade. It's the Renegade Craft Fair of Southeast Asia, the Madison, Wisconsin of Thailand, the--oh, enough with the comparisons.  Suffice it to say, we're already hoping to go back. For the next few days I'll be sending you (virtual) postcards. Enjoy! And if you ever have occasion to be in northern Thailand, do let me know and I will happily happily give you more details and recommendations.  

Just to get things started ...

(photos taken at the Elephant Nature Park, an elephant sanctuary in northern Thailand.)

Phuket, part two.

Okay, so I know that things sounded idyllic in that last post. And actually, they were pretty nearly so. Matt has had a busy fall, and I'm finding parenting a toddler to be way more exhausting than the infant days, so we were both ready for vacation. It was heavenly to sit and knit, listening to my son and his father shriek with laughter as they chased each other on the beach or ran into the waves. Finn loved all that time with his papa and Matt and I each got alone time as well.





The resort we stayed in was, as I alluded to, quite hip. Every detail was clearly designed and in keeping with the theme, which references the history of tin mining here in Phuket.



It all felt very industrial, with lots of metal and concrete, like a hip urban nightclub. The techno music that played in the public areas--bathrooms, lobby, restaurants--added to that "club" feel.

It was cool---our room, and in particular, the shower, felt like something in a design magazine.



But it's not the type of space I could ever live in, and in fact started to feel a little oppressive. Matt, however, didn't find it oppressive at all and really loved how clean and modern it felt---not fussy or hokey in the least.



The other part of the trip which gave us mixed feelings was a mass-market tourist day trip out to the Phi Phi Islands. It was absolutely gorgeous and almost unreal to swim in such clear turquoise waters. And snorkeling among coral reefs and colorful fish is otherworldly and dream-like.

But ours was just one of so many boats, all putting down anchors in that coral, and we were just two of so many snorkelers, putting our sunscreen-lathered bodies into that water, letting the waves wash those chemicals right off of us.

We felt downright queasy when our boat pulled up to "Monkey Island" and people fed the monkeys from the boat. Everybody wanted a great picture, but the guides were clearly nervous, since the monkeys have become mean and bold, thanks to boat after boat of tourists bringing them food. We were warned not to let Finn near, since the monkeys have a tendency to bite children, and adults too, if they don't get what they want.

We don't regret seeing such beauty at all, nor are we sorry to put money into an economy that is still recovering from the 2004 tsunami. But I do regret not doing more advance research on responsible day-trip operators. I studied the environmental impacts of tourism while in Indonesia and I know better than to just go with the best price. We plan to return to Thailand over Christmas break (this time to Chiang Mai) and this is good motivation to do our homework on the various elephant camps and trekking outfits located in that region.

I guess the truth is just that travel is always complex, and that as much as local areas benefit from and rely on tourism dollars, there is a cost as well. From increased sewage load and trash production to outright exploitation of cultural practices or wildlife, rarely is the tourism industry entirely benign. We were reminded, in our island day-trip, that travel involves responsibility, and requires recognition of the social exchange that takes place, more than just the financial one. My responsibility, as a tourist, goes beyond simply learning something of the language and customs, though that is a good place to start. My responsibility involves research on activities and purchases that I can feel good about, and involves slowing down enough to treat each person I meet with courtesy and respect.

In the end, I guess, being a responsible tourist isn't all that different than being a responsible human being. The cultural differences may complicate what "responsible" looks like, but the limited demands of each day allow more than enough space and time for reflection.

Phuket, part one.

This past week we've been in Phuket, Thailand. (n.b. Phuket is pronounced "poo-ket." It hadn't occurred to me that there was a less-than-family-friendly way to mispronounce Phuket, until my friend Andrea left a comment on facebook alluding to said mispronunciation. Now, of course, that's all I can think of when I see the word written. Thanks, Andrea!)

Phuket has quite a reputation for parties and sleaze ... think beach spring break all year round. But we found a resort in a quiet village and haven't seen a bit of that. Instead, this is what we've been experiencing ...

hearing:

• waves crash on the shore (obvious, I know, but true)
• new phrases from Finn: "okey-i" (okay, guys) "oh no!" (mainly said if loses a ball) "ten-ten" (tennis, his current obsession) and "be-ball" (beach ball)
• The Story of Edgar Sawtelle---we listen at night (after Finn goes to sleep) on one of two porches. I knit, Matt stretches.
• techno-pop music throughout the resort (more on this later)

feeling:

• sugar-soft sand (again, obvious, but so marvelously true) and salty breezes
• a foot massage while lounging on the beach (heaven!)
• wool in my hands (is it crazy to knit on the beach?)
• just a teensy sunburn on my shoulders and on Matt's neck, but none for Finn!

tasting:

• king prawns with garlic, grilled fish with lemongrass and chilies, curried crab
• fresh juice, milkshakes, and cocktails everyday...Finn is in love with virgin pina coladas.
• amazing breakfasts: fruit, cheese, breads, pastries, waffles, omelets, fresh honey from a honeycomb!

watching:

• Finn gain confidence with the waves
• fishermen bring in the boats while we eat dinner
• Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter--another Korean movie which will get full review next week

marveling at:

• the wonderful way baby powder gets sand off a baby's body ... off a grown-up's body too!
• this ultra-cool hotel, almost too cool for me.
• classic tropical postcard scenes: white sand, clear turquoise waters

wishing for:

• nothing, except that you were here. Truly. We said many times on this vacation that as wonderful as it was, it would be better to share it with friends or family. So, we're heading to Chiang Mai for Christmas ... anyone coming along?

More later, and lots of pictures over at flickr.

We're back ...

... and actually, we've been back since last Wednesday. If that doesn't sound very enthusiastic, well, you're a good judge of written emotion. I could blame the lack of zest on jetlag, but we've pretty much emerged from that fog. I could (and did) blame it on the constant rain, but the sun came out today. The heat is certainly heavy and uncomfortable, no doubt, and that doesn't help my mood.

But really, the sharp contrast between grassy lawns, quiet sidewalks, backyards, back porches, and ready access to farmers' markets, dirt and family, and the crowded, concrete-filled, mall-walking, anonymous life we live in Hong Kong is just rough. Oh, you know there are things we love about life here, and it's not really so lacking in nature and community as my tired, glum self makes it out to be. I'm trying to pay attention to these things, to remember the goodness of our life and our rhythms here.

But I'm also paying attention to this transition time, this liminal threshold when both worlds are very present in our hearts. There is richness and understanding here, I'm sure. Lots to write about in the coming days: how quickly anything can become "normal"---which is both a comfort and a warning, how deeply and irrationally our own childhoods define parenting for us ("irrational" in the sense of how our past influences our present without, or even against, logic and reason), the gifts and challenges of living someplace on a short-term basis and how it differs from indefinite moves.

But tonight, let me just indulge in some memories from home and share a series of images from one lovely, iconic summer night---one of those nights that turns everyone into a photographer, except in my family we have Chip, so the rest of us don't even bother. (These pictures are, of course, all his.)

It was a night after a day of berry-picking, a night of BBQ leftovers and laughing so hard our tummies hurt. It was a night almost so beautiful it hurt, a night of (as Paloma says in The Elegance of the Hedgehog) the always in the never. Enjoy.

(want to see more beautiful pictures?  Check out Chip's flickr photostream)