I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!

After the hectic truck ride through the mountains (see previous post), all I wanted to do was get back to the guest house and take a nice, long, relaxing shower. I remembered that I'd forgotten to pack soap, so I went to the local Burmese market to pick some up. All the soap was written in Thai, Burmese or Chinese, so I just went for the one that smelled the best - an herbal scented bar with Chinese writing.

I went home, hopped in the shower, lathered up, and was overwhelmed by the incredibly luxurious texture of the soap - it literally felt as if I was bathing in silk. When I got out of the shower, my skin was smoother and more conditioned than it had ever been in my life.

The next morning I showered again with the soap, but this time noticed that once I'd rinsed the suds off, there was still a bit of a grimy film left behind. Who cares, more skin conditioning. I left my guest house and as I was walking down the street a dog came up to me and started licking my shins like it was his business. That had never happened before, but I just figured the dogs in Mae Sot were hungrier than those in other small border towns.

A few more minutes down the street and I was sweating uncontrollably, more than I ever had in my life. And it wasn't that hot out. When I went to wipe the sweat from my brow, I realized that the droplets on my forehead were extremely oily. Hmm.

When I arrived back in the guest house later that afternoon I took off my clothes to cool down and noticed large grease stains on my shirt and pants. Now this is just bizarre! I looked at my body and realized that a few small spots had appeared that seemed to look like blackheads, which one typically gets from clogged pores.

I figured all of this was related to the soap, as I'd never had any of these reactions previously, so I took the bar of soap and the box it came in to the manager of the guest house who spoke Chinese and asked him to read me the ingredients on the box. He said there was one ingredient: unsalted butter. For two days I had been bathing in butter.

I Can't Believe It IS Butter!

How am I still alive?: A self-practice guide on dying in Southeast Asia.

I took a survey a while back about expat living in Southeast Asia and one of the questions was, "What is the best and worst part about your life abroad?" I had the same answer to both of these questions: my proximity to death. There's nothing like being surrounded by death to make you feel, well, alive. And in Asia there's no shortage of encounters and reminders of death. Whether it's passing a passed-on elderly person lying on their front porch for the neighbors to come pay respects to, or a dead body in the middle of the road post-motorcycle accident, the 'other side' is ever-present.

But until recently I hadn't had to contemplate my own death. Yea I have life insurance, but I'd always thought that was more for my family's/company's peace of mind than anything else. Lately, though, I've had a few encounters that I feel like have brought me closer to the edge of death than ever before, at least in my mind.

Doing work in landmine/UXO action, you constantly hear about casualties involving explosions, and they're often harrowing stories that impact you to the core, but rarely actually manifest in your reality. Even when I go on site visits those realities seem distant. But lately I've been challenged in that respect. I've picked up display bombs out of curiosity only later to realize that they hadn't been diffused. I've walked through rice paddies and corn fields where only days prior there had been an explosion that left someone maimed or dead. Don't get me wrong, the people I travel and work with only have my safety at heart and the chance of me actually being involved in an accident is nearly non-existent (knock on wood), but it's the closeness that alarms.

And then there was today. When I first moved to Thailand 3 years ago and began to learn how to drive a motorcycle I felt like I was going to kill myself and everyone on the road with every step on the pedal, but soon that too passed as I began to navigate the streets with more ease. Generally my fear of road death had subsided, until today.

On my way back from a site visit on the Thailand/Burma border I opted to hop into a pick-up truck, as I didn't want to inconvenience my friendly hosts who were driving me 3 hours out of the way of their home. The drive started out peacefully enough, with sweeping views of rice paddies.

Then I realized that the truck was driving a bit out of control, and looked through the window to see the driver pounding a bottle of what appeared to be liquor. Alright, so I'm driving through the plains in a slightly rambunctious truck being driven by a drunk man - no big deal. Think again. The landscape quickly changes from farmland to steep mountains and we're being hurled around cliffs at ungodly speeds.

OK, no big deal again, there are guard rails. Nope. The guard rails all seem to end at the most crucial points (hairpin curves, foggy sections, areas where there's a 300 ft drop, etc etc).

We whip around one of these hairpin curves going about 70 mph in a foggy section that clears just in time to see that there's one of these 300 ft drops that we're headed straight into. I try to stay calm, but all the Burmese people that I'm in the truck with start screaming at the top of their lungs in Burmese what I can only imagine translates into "HELP! WE'RE ABOUT TO DIE! BUDDHA WHERE ARE YOU WHEN WE NEED YOU?" and the like. I only know 3 words in Burmese - "lay peh thoke," which means "tea leaf salad." So I start screaming that in an attempt at solidarity. But at least I wasn't the one who was throwing up:

Miraculously we came out of that curve - and hundreds more - unscathed, and praise be to Jesus that I'm back home safely and here to write about it. Moral of the story, next time you're feeling a bit lifeless, trying skipping through a minefield* or hopping into a mountain-bound pick-up truck with a drunk driver* to give you some spunk and make you appreciate what you have.

xo

Cresa

*Please don't do this!

tackling burma pt. 2 (steady goes it)

view of shwedagon pagoda from the exterior

monks and money

"foot wearing prohibited"!

a kid in a bowtie (!) posing with the generator, burma's only source of legal power

street view of men in longyis (skirt-type garments)

tackling burma

i've had a great deal of anxiety thinking about how to present my story of burma while properly maintaining the complexity, integrity, and beauty of the country. she is so dynamic that words just don't suffice. so with that said, since a word is indeed worth a thousand pictures, i present to you The Word: Burma...and approximately a thousand pictures (56 to be exact).

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reading my favorite paper (IHT) in my favorite pub (50th st)

having posek with cousin fred in a typical burmese tea shop

intercepting vibes from katie ad and cousin fred

after running the hash as a newbie

fabulous comeuppance pt. 2

i'm not ready to tackle the story of my time in burma yet, so i'll skip to the pseudo present:

*i left, or rather escaped, from burma in september of this year. i returned home to visit with my mother, family, friends and fergi the pomeranian in nashville, tn and reconnect to the home that once was. after the first week of being there i was officially offered the job with clear path international (www.cpi.org), so knew that my time in the states was dated. so i spent lots of time talking, laughing and watching dancing with the stars with mom, visiting my aunts and cousins in atlanta playing table tennis and playstation, catching up on my nearly two years without microbrews, and fighting jetlag. it was a phenomenal.

*then i was back to asia. i stopped through bangkok to visit my boyfriend peter for a few days, getting reacquainted with the thai lifestyle. after a couple of days, i jetsetted to vientiane, laos, my new home. i'd never been to laos before, but was told by many friends i knew from thailand who'd gone there before that the only reason to go was to get a new visa for thailand. i can't speak for the rest of laos, but vientiane (the capital, where i now call home base) has brought me to levels of boredom and near depression previously thought unfathomable. for those of you who know me well, you know that i'm fairly adaptable. i rarely complain about my condition and am usually able to make the best out of any situation, no matter how grave. but laos has/is doing me in. granted, i've only been there for a month, but in that month i've had little work (starting an NGO in a new place is slow tedious work in the beginning); no family; no internet; and most importantly/shockingly, no friends. and if you don't have work, family, internet and friends - what's the purpose of living? there is none. so the answer to alleviating my sorrows in vientiane is, simply, to not be in vientiane. travel. travel as much as i can. travel so much that i'm so tired of traveling that i welcome the work-family-internet-friend blackhole that is vientiane. with that said, i know that other parts of laos are far more intriguing than vientiane, so i do plan to spend a fair amount of time doing other regions justice. so with that, here's my plan for the next couple of months:

Dec 4-16: Cambodia (Phnom Penh, Kep, Kampot, Sihanoukville, Battambang, Kamrieng)
Dec 16-22: Vientiane
Dec 22-25: Chiang Mai
Dec 25-Jan 2: Cambodia
Jan 2-12: Vientiane
Jan 12-Feb 5: Thailand and Burma
Feb 5-14: Traipsing with a friend throughout Who-Knows-Where-Land, SE Asia

*but in during my last month of solitary confinement, there has been an oyster. a mighty, pearly one at that. i've had time to reflect on where my path has lead and realize that, now that i'm now officially working in the field of international development, i've found my calling. and i've also realized that my self-deprecating tendencies of second guessing my own abilities needs to stop. so with that, i've enrolled in a harvard economics distance program with the hopes of passing this level and enrolling full time into the kennedy school or london school of economics (or school of oriental and asian studies) masters in public policy/administration in international development program within the next two years.

*i'm currently on my first leg of my work site visit/anti-death boredom trip - in phnom penh, cambodia. this, i've decided, is my favorite city in the world. there's literally no other place where i'm constantly having my heart broken (4 year old prostitutes; remnants of contemporary genocide at every corner), nor my heart ignited (random street people wanting to shake your hand because of you believe in the prosperity of their country; 80 year old blind blues singers who survived the war by making music that even the killing forces couldn't resist). i've never had such amazing food in my life. and i've never been so sick after eating food that had apparently been contaminated with insects (i only found this out because when i ran to the bathroom after the initial onset of symptoms what came out in the toilet was chocked full of small bugs). my heart rests here. and here: Cambodia Living Arts

yes, that's a picture of tree roots that looks like a person's bare ass

yes, that's a picture of the most beautiful child in cambodia standing in front of angkor wat

yes, that's a picture of skulls exhumed from mass graves following the khmer rouge genocide

and yes, that's a picture of a plate of rice shaped like a teddy bear

fabulous comeuppance

a retrospective glance at life since my last update:

*i stayed in chiang mai, thailand until march 2010 teaching english and working for a burmese education non-profit organization. after having been there for more than 18 months, i started to feel like i was losing sight of my purpose. i'd originally gone to thailand in an effort to figure out what the hell i wanted to do with my life - teach english? health professional? anthropologist? masters student?!?! i met many amazing people, made loads of beautiful friends, ate some incredible food, was blown away by larger-than-life landscapes...but at the end of the day, i was not any closer to realizing my destiny than i was when i first stepped off the plane in 2008.

i'd decided it might be time for me to return to the U.S. - not totally a failure, but with a sense of defeat that i wasn't quite comfortable with. then something amazing happened. a group that i was volunteering with asked me if i would come to their office, because they wanted to introduce me to a couple of people. they would often ask me to come by to meet their songwriter friends to help them edit their songs that they wanted to perform in english; or teach their friends who wanted to open a restaurant catering to tourists how to make western food. so figuring this was another one of those scenarios, i gladly threw on a pair of cut-off shorts and a halter top, hopped on my motorbike and headed over to the office.

when i arrived, i was greeted by two american women, who were introduced to me as the leadership team of clear

path international, an international ngo that supports victims of landmines. they were the primary funders of this organization that i was volunteering with and had asked the group if they knew anyone who would like to help them out with some of their projects in se asia. apparently i fit the bill, but as they scanned me up and down - with my backpacker attire and empty-handed (no CV, or even a pen), i feared they had doubts. but then again, so did i. of course i wouldn't want to interview and be considered for a job that would keep me in asia. i'd already failed at developing a strategic plan for myself, and had wasted two years of my life in the process. screw you guys, i'm going home. or so i thought.

over the next few hours i spent chatting with these brilliant, compassionate women i was won over by their stories and hopes for the organization. i found myself then praying that they would accept me into their ranks. ah, but money. they didn't have a budget to fund my position, so told me that they would try to secure some grant money to bring me on, but in the time being just to hang out

a little while and just wait. yea, sure. i live in freaking asia, how many times had i heard that before? from tuk tuk drivers telling me that their vehicle was tired and i needed to just wait a little while...4 hours later we're still stuck in the middle of the jungle with hungry, fanged beasts scurrying around our feet. or the restaurant owner telling me that my dish will be out soon, just wait a little while. 2 hours later i'm passed out in the floor in a near diabetic fit. hellz no, i don't wait for anyone in asia anymore. but they persisted, and 7 months later, i received an email informing me that they'd received funding for my position, and they wanted me to start working immediately. so with that, i bid thailand and all my gorgeous memories farewell, for the time being. holla!

*during that 7 month period after thailand i lived in burma, an experience i'll cover in subsequent blogs. i'm realizing i'm a much better blogger when i write about the events retrospectively, after i've had time to reflect and see how things were actually pieced together through the end.

a good day

i've been extremely reticent to update this blog lately. the idea of living "abroad" is often synonymous with exoticism, newness and trailblazing that leads one to the greater depths of incite, self-awareness, and unbridled epiphanies. and while my time in thailand has, at one point or another, inspired such moments of awakening, after living here for now a year, that kind of stuff has taken a backseat to the realities of everyday life...laundry, lesson plans, seasonal colds, etc. so out of the fear of imposing boredom on anyone who might happen across this page, and fear of disappointing those who were curious to know what was going on in my "wild & crazy" life, i've consistently opted for the silent treatment.

but today, i had a really good day. in fact, i could characterize most of my days as really good. but there's something about this day that made me realize that i miss sharing those mundane details of my life that, collectively, are a greater testament to my current situation than any transcendental story ever could be. so without further explanation, this is what's really up in my life...

i woke up at 6 something this morning in a coughing fit. unable to fall back asleep i hopped online and the first thing that caught my eye was an article proclaiming that, contrary to popular speculation, the world is not about to end. fast-forward a few clicks...and for the next hour i'm captivated by Orson Welles' The War of the Worlds. i close my computer, humored and cough-free. i fall back asleep for a few more hours, wake up, shower, have my favorite morning meal (corn rice porridge) and set off to my first class - a volunteer lesson with a group of people from myanmar. this is always a refreshing, uplifting class because these students have fled from their homes, left their families behind, and come to thailand to gain skills that they may, one day, take back to their countries to empower those left behind...unlike the majority of my students who are just rich brats whose parents want them to learn english for the sole purpose of getting into the best international schools or making more money for the family business.

after a great lesson, i headed to a volunteer meeting with an organization that i'm now working for...my newest job is to recruit teachers to serve in myanmar, a daunting but important responsibility that gives me a renewed sense of purpose here everyday.

following that meeting, i drove to the opposite end of the city on a near empty tank of gas (this detail will be important later) to a private teaching lesson. my student? one of the aforementioned privileged brats who mock my very existence as a teacher. i arrive to class, ready to teach the same dull grammar points i'm accustomed to, but to my surprise, she's holding a dr. seuss book and asks if we can take turns reading. we spend the next hour reading "the sneetches" stories...and by the end of the lesson we're sprawled out on beanbags leaning on one another's shoulders laughing, making funny sounds and voices to imitate the characters, and working on the pronunciation of many of dr. seuss many important make-believe words. by far the most brilliant lesson i've had with this stubborn little brat yet.

i leave the school, and on my way home, still on empty, i stop at the gas station, the workplace of my biggest, and only, crush. for all that thailand has blessed me with in the past year, it has failed to provide my with any leads in the love department. thus, i have been resigned to having fleeting crushes on various service workers: a 7-11 employee here, a food cart sous chef there, and now...a gas station attendant. our conversation, in what broken thai i'm capable of muttering, went a little like this:

me: hello

him: hello. what kind of gas?

me: 95 octane, please.

him: how much?

me: 100 baht.

him: so, have you had dinner yet? (contrary to what this might translate to in a western context, this is merely a polite greeting in thailand. he was not, unfortunately, asking me out to dinner.)

me: no. i'm very hungry. and you?

him: yes. i had rice.

me: thank you.

him: thank you.

at this point, his eyes light up in a manner that can only imply that he's smiling. unfortunately, because of the nature of his work, he must constantly wear a surgical mask so i never actually know if he's smiling, or for that matter, i don't actually know what his entire face looks like...but...i'm pretty sure it bears a smile when we chat. so i drive off and he waves, and with butterflies in my stomach, i forge ahead until the next time i'm low on 95 octane.

next i meet some friends for mexican and maragaritas...festive times as usual with great friends.

then two of my gay male friends and i head to a new gay bar/entertainment venue where we watch gay boys and transsexuals do stimulating renditions of Dreamgirls, Cher and, of course, Akon. for me the show was entertaining, but for them it renewed for them a sense that gay pride is alive in a town that is seemingly open to, but also skeptical of, queer lifestyles. and seeing them embracing and living this moment without fear of judgment or shame made me all the more happy to share the experience with them.

after the show i dropped my friend off and, on my way home, passed by a little bar that i'd only been to once but had impressed me more than any other bar in chiang mai because of the amazing live music and laid back atmosphere that many bars here fall short of actually maintaining. i rarely go places alone, especially bars, but as i drove by, the owner of the bar waved at me so i decided to pop in for a nightcap. as i approached the door, there was a man who i'd never seen before sitting behind the sound booth strumming a guitar, yelling in thai to the delight of the 50 or so patrons. as i step up from the sidewalk into the bar he points to me and instructs me to join him in the sound booth. i quickly grab a seat in an effort to avoid the attention and embarrassment of a public display. unfortunately being one of maybe 3 black girls permanently residing in chiang mai, everyone thinks that i'm a soul or r&b singer, so i was forced into the booth by a mob of excited thai strangers in need of a good tune. but for anyone who knows me, you know that my inability to carry a tune is my ultimate downfall, and my retention of popular song lyrics is even moreso. but against my will i enter the booth. i try to explain to the guy that i can't sing and don't know any songs, but he says the chocolate lady must just be acting shy, so he starts playing a melody. to my surprise, he's playing "The Show", by Lenka, a song i only know because my annoyingly bratty student i mentioned earlier is obsessed with that song and insists that we start every class with a sing-a-long of it. over the months i'd grown to hate the song because of its redundancy and cutesiness being drilled into my head day in and day out. but tonight, this song saved my life. with confidence i belted out the song on the mic to a raucous response from the crowd, which thankfully masked my sporadic tone deafness. i then sat down with the owner of the bar, chatted for a while about his new business ventures, and did a few magic tricks with him.

as i drove home, i reflected on the events of the day and couldn't help but smile about my life here. as boring, mundane, or uneventful as it may be to some, i think i've carved out a good space for myself in this place, and it's days like this which make it hard to think about uprooting. big or small, profound or not, it's always a good day and a good life here.