Okay, so maybe I'm mixing my metaphors. It turns out, though, that I'm not talking about being back on the road in my car, but I am talking about being back a) in the pool, and b) on my bike, so I guess the "saddle" terminology is applicable (at least to the bike).
Full disclosure: I just turned 53 (does that count as "early '50s still?), am in the process of getting divorced (enough said--I don't like seeing the phrase in black and white, even on a blog that no one will read, but it is what it is), and I am on sabbatical this coming academic year. Ergo, it's the perfect time for a full blown "mid-life crisis." So...
It's been the better part of the year since I've been in the pool. I injured my rotator cuff very badly last October (my doctor recently told me--and perhaps not that helpfully--that I'm "...not going to have the shoulder of a 25-year-old any more"--gee!), and since then I haven't been near the pool. But today I changed that. I signed up for a Sprint Triathlon at the end of August (it's nice to have a goal to help keep me motivated to train--as if a bike ride from Lhasa to Kathmandu wasn't enough to shock me into high gear, so to speak), and I thought I better try some swimming. And so, gingerly, and with some trepidation, I swam for the first time in a LONG time. I didn't swim long (I'm generally not that great at under doing it, alas, but I think I did today), or very far, but I did swim, and mostly (at least for the moment), with very little pain. And, surprisingly, I didn't feel like I was going to drown even once, and I actually enjoyed swimming.
And then this evening I got on my road bike and took my first ride of the season around Tamarack Lake (okay, so its really more like a puddle at the moment). I've been riding a perfectly fine old trail bike to start my long haul to getting into bike shape, but I have been slow to break out the road bike. But I did today, and it was a beautiful evening to do the Tamarack Loop. I have a long way to go--the rolling hills of Northwest Pennsylvania are no match for the Roof of the World roads of the Himalayas, but hey, it's a start. Baby steps.
In the meantime, I have ample opportunity to practice Forgiveness (still my year-long, one-word Resolution--it's a gift that keeps on giving!), and also Peace; I'm trying to choose to see Peace instead of all the Havoc I create in my mind. It seems to be the teaching of the week: it keeps showing up in my orbit--in my email, on Face Book (thanks Gabby Bernstein), in my bedside reading. If only seeing Peace instead of anxiety, jealousy, fear, loss, anger, resentment, etc. could be attained the way one trains for a race (just trust the training!), then...
Monday, June 30, 2014
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Learning How to Forgive
I have been busy working (imagine, a job!) and traveling (some driving, yes of course!, and some flying). In addition to my "day" job (which I love), I've been working towards getting certified to be a yoga instructor (which I also love) at Thrive Yoga (I hope to be certified this spring). I've also been teaching yoga at the new (and only) yoga studio in my town, Brookside Yoga. The travel--the driving--has shifted, and so has the route (metaphorically and literally speaking). These journeys have brought me lots of opportunities and gifts (some of which were not exactly what I had in mind!). I am so grateful for the time I have had to develop some new navigation skills (I like a map so I can see the big picture--none of that GPS stuff for me). So my current journey involves Forgiveness. Yes, I'm on a Forgiveness kick right now.
Some things I've learned (or heard at least!) about Forgiveness from teachers (particularly Robert Holden and Iyanla Vanzant) and books and experience:
“Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past."
--Anne Lamott
“Forgiveness is not an occasional act, it is a constant attitude.”
― Martin Luther King Jr.
Some things I've learned (or heard at least!) about Forgiveness from teachers (particularly Robert Holden and Iyanla Vanzant) and books and experience:
- Forgiveness is a process, it doesn't necessarily happen all at once;
- It is an act of grace: it comes through you, not from you;
- It is NOT a psychological reframing;
- It is an act of love, a gift, a blessing;
- It really and truly liberates you from victimhood.
“Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past."
--Anne Lamott
“Forgiveness is not an occasional act, it is a constant attitude.”
― Martin Luther King Jr.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Unfasten Your Seat Belt
It's been good to be back home in NW PA--and back to work in the classroom. And because my daughter is herself back at school in Minnesota, I'm not doing skate shuttling. While I miss my daughter tons, I don't miss the driving so much. Nonetheless, I've taken on a new adventure that does require some driving. But that's just the first investment. I got some crazy idea over the summer that I was being called to take yoga--and train to be a yoga instructor. I have a few ideas, very particular ones at that, about what led me to come to this mid-life revelation (hey, if it's a mid-life move, call it what it is!). One is that (if you have read much of my blog at all) that I have really been loving yoga. The way I feel doing it (even the painful positions that I wonder when will end), the way I feel after doing it, and the way I feel (it turns out) teaching it, brings me peace.
So I will give a plug to Thrive Yoga in Rockville, MD, where I go one weekend a month for the 200-hour training. Yes, a teacher training in Pittsburgh would have made more sense, but there was something about this program that called to me. It does mean quite a drive once a month or so, but I do wear my seatbelt. Not only in the car, but on the yoga mat as well. For this yoga training has been a learning experience, the depth of which I could not imagine. It has been as much about healing as it has been about learning how to cue a class in downward facing dog (though it is that too, of course). I have learned a bunch of things about myself and ways to be in the world through this program. It's been a real blessing.
And now I have started teaching my own practice classes with willing (and forgiving) friends and colleagues. I encourage them when on the mat to unfasten their seat belt and dive in...
So I will give a plug to Thrive Yoga in Rockville, MD, where I go one weekend a month for the 200-hour training. Yes, a teacher training in Pittsburgh would have made more sense, but there was something about this program that called to me. It does mean quite a drive once a month or so, but I do wear my seatbelt. Not only in the car, but on the yoga mat as well. For this yoga training has been a learning experience, the depth of which I could not imagine. It has been as much about healing as it has been about learning how to cue a class in downward facing dog (though it is that too, of course). I have learned a bunch of things about myself and ways to be in the world through this program. It's been a real blessing.
And now I have started teaching my own practice classes with willing (and forgiving) friends and colleagues. I encourage them when on the mat to unfasten their seat belt and dive in...
Monday, August 27, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
The Roads of Siem Reap
I had a really fabulous trip touring the temples in and around Siem Reap, and virtually all of them by bicycle. I really think that touring by bicycle is the way to see and experience the country if one has the time and the motivation. At least I think that was true for me (in my limited experience).
My itinerary went something like this:
On my first full day I rented a "town" bike (for $1) and rode around the city of Siem Reap. I also took a tuk tuk (that sounds and looks kind of funny) out to Tonle Sap for the requisite boat tour of the floating villages. A couple of other points of interest during that day made for a nice entry.
My third day I took a bike tour out to Beng Mealea, 75 km or so Northeast of Siem Reap (by backroad) at the edge of Phnom Kulen National Park. I was the only one who signed up, so it was just Sum (the guide) and me. Beng Mealea is a 12th-century temple that was rediscovered and excavated from its jungle home in the 1990s, though landmines and lousy roads made it a visit only for the most intrepid until about 5 years ago or so (or so I am told). It's a truly magical experience rambling through the rough ruins of this jungle-encroached temple, especially after a long (hot and sweaty!) bike ride through beautiful countryside.
Day four, another bike tour with Sum; this time one other person signed up, a lovely young woman from Holland (whose partner was in Hospital with Dengue Fever--ouch!). The three of us had a great time touring the temples of Angkor Archaeological Park, starting with the immense and stunning Angkor Wat. There is a really good reason why this temple is represented on the Cambodian flag. We then rode our bikes along a portion of "the great wall of Cambodia" (as Sum would say) that surround Angkor Thom, then a visit to famous and remarkable Bayon, followed by lunch (no crickets or ants today), then the unfinished (tall pyramid temple of) Ta Keo, followed by a ride through the back gate (and a very narrow trail populated largely by folks leaving and going to work at the temples on their motorcycles and bikes) to Ta Prohm, whose majestic trees vie with the structure, and in fact infiltrate it!
My itinerary went something like this:
On my first full day I rented a "town" bike (for $1) and rode around the city of Siem Reap. I also took a tuk tuk (that sounds and looks kind of funny) out to Tonle Sap for the requisite boat tour of the floating villages. A couple of other points of interest during that day made for a nice entry.
My third day I took a bike tour out to Beng Mealea, 75 km or so Northeast of Siem Reap (by backroad) at the edge of Phnom Kulen National Park. I was the only one who signed up, so it was just Sum (the guide) and me. Beng Mealea is a 12th-century temple that was rediscovered and excavated from its jungle home in the 1990s, though landmines and lousy roads made it a visit only for the most intrepid until about 5 years ago or so (or so I am told). It's a truly magical experience rambling through the rough ruins of this jungle-encroached temple, especially after a long (hot and sweaty!) bike ride through beautiful countryside.
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| On the Road to Beng Mealea |
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| Magical "Courtyard" at Beng Mealea |
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| The ruins of Beng Melea |
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| Angkor Wat--the tallest tower |
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| Riding the wall around Angkor Thom |
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| Banyon Face |
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| The Mysterious Ta Prohm! |
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| Lunch! |
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| The seriously steep Ta Keo |
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| Afternoon commute to Ta Prohm |
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Learning to Use a Compass
For my 50 th birthday last year a friend of mine gave me a compass, a really beautiful one encased in wood with inlay. I have kept it on my bedside table for over a year. I haven't actually really used the compass so much for its most fundamental job (navigating). Rather, it reminds me that there is always a way to know which direction I am going. I sometimes forget where I'm going, both in the earthly, material sense (I came downstairs to get something--what was it again?) as well as in the internal or spiritual sense. And I often get lost (just ask my daughter), or lose myself, especially when I'm in a new neighborhood.
I decided to bring a compass on my trip to Siem Reap, Cambodia. Not the beautiful one I received as a gift (it was back home in Meadville, I was leaving from Minneapolis anyway), but a standard camping compass that also had a flashlight (very useful, especially since the small "torch" I bought for my trip didn't work for some reason--I have such trouble with flashlights). I took it because my guidebook recommended a compass as many of the descriptions of the temples I was planning on visiting used North, South, East, and West as guidelines to orient the tourist. For that, it actually was helpful.
It was also helpful to me in navigating roads. Try as I may, I was unable to find a particularly good map of the area. The best I good do was the maps in the Siem Reap tourist guide. These maps had some streets listed, but not many. It turned out that didn't matter so much because I rarely saw street signs anyway. There were a few in the Old Market/tourist section of town, and a few on the other side of the river where I was staying, but really, very few. And once I got out of town on my bike on the way to see a temple, this was especially true. It seemed like there was the main roadway (two lanes largely once out of town), and then there were smaller sometimes paved roads, most mostly gravely dirt roads, many of which wouldn't accomodate a car, or at least not much of one. I loved traveling on these back roads, which I did with Sum on our trips to the temples. I did gain some confidence (or lacked good sense, depending on your point of view!) and rode on some back roads on my last day when I visited the Rolous temples, which were about 15-20 km from Siem Reap. It was longer if you took the back roads, and still longer if you missed your "exit" (i.e., got lost), both of which I did. But I had such fun on those roads, feeling intrepid without really being in any danger (I could always go back the way I came, retrace my steps--I was in no hurry and there just weren't that many roads to get lost on in the end it seemed to me at the time-oh folly!). It was a good example of, as one friend refers to it, "mildly adverse conditions."
Some friends (and a number of strangers for that matter) have wondered at my taking such a trip on my own and riding a bike on strange roads (with no helmet often, sorry dad, just not the culture there). I honestly didn't feel particularly courageous or bold, or even scared or nervous (except that one night when I was on my bike and really not sure if I was heading the right direction, at which point I really didn't have that much time, nor could I retrace my steps since I was returning a different way than I had gone out in the morning). It all felt like I was doing exactly what I needed to be doing, going exactly in the direction I needed to be going, though I wasn't always sure where exactly that was geographically. It seemed, mysteriously even to me, all to be perfectly and easily just as it should.
I know I've posted this quotation before (from the Daily Dharma, Tricycle Magazine), but it bears repeating, and reminding.
I decided to bring a compass on my trip to Siem Reap, Cambodia. Not the beautiful one I received as a gift (it was back home in Meadville, I was leaving from Minneapolis anyway), but a standard camping compass that also had a flashlight (very useful, especially since the small "torch" I bought for my trip didn't work for some reason--I have such trouble with flashlights). I took it because my guidebook recommended a compass as many of the descriptions of the temples I was planning on visiting used North, South, East, and West as guidelines to orient the tourist. For that, it actually was helpful.
It was also helpful to me in navigating roads. Try as I may, I was unable to find a particularly good map of the area. The best I good do was the maps in the Siem Reap tourist guide. These maps had some streets listed, but not many. It turned out that didn't matter so much because I rarely saw street signs anyway. There were a few in the Old Market/tourist section of town, and a few on the other side of the river where I was staying, but really, very few. And once I got out of town on my bike on the way to see a temple, this was especially true. It seemed like there was the main roadway (two lanes largely once out of town), and then there were smaller sometimes paved roads, most mostly gravely dirt roads, many of which wouldn't accomodate a car, or at least not much of one. I loved traveling on these back roads, which I did with Sum on our trips to the temples. I did gain some confidence (or lacked good sense, depending on your point of view!) and rode on some back roads on my last day when I visited the Rolous temples, which were about 15-20 km from Siem Reap. It was longer if you took the back roads, and still longer if you missed your "exit" (i.e., got lost), both of which I did. But I had such fun on those roads, feeling intrepid without really being in any danger (I could always go back the way I came, retrace my steps--I was in no hurry and there just weren't that many roads to get lost on in the end it seemed to me at the time-oh folly!). It was a good example of, as one friend refers to it, "mildly adverse conditions."
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| The road on the way back from Bakong temple. |
I know I've posted this quotation before (from the Daily Dharma, Tricycle Magazine), but it bears repeating, and reminding.
Whatever your difficulties—a devastated heart, financial loss, feeling assaulted by the conflicts around you, or a seemingly hopeless illness—you can always remember that you are free in every moment to set the compass of your heart to your highest intentions. In fact, the two things that you are always free to do—despite your circumstances—are to be present and to be willing to love.
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- Jack Kornfield, "Set the Compass of Your Heart"
Friday, August 10, 2012
It's All About the Food
Anyone who knows me knows that, for me, it's all about the food.
A little tired from five days of biking, I decided to take a day to do not much of anything, which is not that like me, but it seemed like a really good idea to just hang out and write and read and rest, maybe get a Khmer massage. I had a huge leisurely breakfast and then back to my room to relax. It wasn't too long before I started thinking about this blog, actually, and how I wanted to write about how much I love the food here.
It started something like this, with a small complaint at the outset, followed by praise and adoration for the rest of the entry:
I love my tea, and I really kind of need it to get started in the morning--like some people need their coffee. Herbal tea has its place, as does decaf, but I need black tea--English Breakfast, Irish Breakfast, English Teatime. I hold a special place in my heart for Earl Grey (sorry you purists). I love English tea (Red Label, Tetley's, PG Tips) largely because they seem to be more full-bodied, bold, and fragrant. My son has pointed out to me that he thinks I have a "problem," and perhaps he's right. I have missed my tea here. It has been surprisingly elusive to find a proper cup of tea. The Green tea is just fine, but to start the day I need a real cup of tea with lemon and sugar or milk (preferably half and half, forget the nonfat stuff) and sugar, or just straight.
That said, I can live without my other familiar and loved foods, namely chocolate. Whatever. I'll get back to you soon enough. The fact is, I am in love with Khmer cuisine. And I have been trying to figure our what the most important staples to try in my short time here. Soups seem to be big and common (see previous post, "Don't Worry" for just how big). I asked about food recommendations from Sum; he obliged (we actually had many meals together if you count the breakfasts that he ate while I drank tea!). I tried lok lak, Khmer curry, fish Amok ( several times) and three dishes I shared with Sum and Lucky on our day out to Banteay Srei. This was my last touring day with them, and Sum was a little more relaxed about things, so he informed me that we would all eat together and share, and so he ordered: morning glory soup with basil, shredded ginger with beef, and some unknown vegetable with egg in a sauce that I couldn't identify. It was almost smokey and bitter tasting, and the texture of the vegetable was somewhere between a melon and okra. While it wasn't my favorite of the three, but when I put some fish sauce and chili on it it was really quite excellent.
Last night I had Cambodian BBQ down the street from me at a resaurant that Sum suggested. There were a few meats that I recognized and a whole bunch that I didn't, but I put a bunch of stuff on my tray and tried to negotiate my table BBQ, which is more like a domed reverse wok in which you put some fat substance on the top which then melts down as your meats/soya cook. They then make their way into the moat which holds noodles and veggies and whatever manner of things you deem important, and it all cooks up into a highly tasty (if somewhat mysterious in my case) stew.
I have also had my fair share of Street food. It's cheap, often fried--what else could one ask? Some might argue that it's not safe, but most of the "restaurants" that I have eaten at here don't have traditional kitchens anyway. Go ahead, take your prophylactic Pepto Bismol and eat your street food!
I love the way interactions around food can bring out what is real in us, even if that is discomfort on a blind date, or joy around a family dinner table (or vice versa). It gives us an opportunity to share in the sacred act of nourishing and caring for our bodies. But it can also be fun and joyous, even educational, as my Khmer cooking class was today. Our cooking instructor was a young 27 year-old Cambodian whose mother died (they lived in a village) when she was six; her father became an alcoholic and died a couple of years later. The children were sent out to different aunts and uncles to become part of their families. Out instructor told the story of how she became one of the chefs at the restaurant. She also said, in rather a cheery demeanor, and honestly, I think, that she didn't know how to cry, she was so young at the time, but that she did know how to cook, and to share her life through her food. And her food through the stories of her life.
Any one who knows me knows that, for me, it's all about the stories.
A little tired from five days of biking, I decided to take a day to do not much of anything, which is not that like me, but it seemed like a really good idea to just hang out and write and read and rest, maybe get a Khmer massage. I had a huge leisurely breakfast and then back to my room to relax. It wasn't too long before I started thinking about this blog, actually, and how I wanted to write about how much I love the food here.
It started something like this, with a small complaint at the outset, followed by praise and adoration for the rest of the entry:
I love my tea, and I really kind of need it to get started in the morning--like some people need their coffee. Herbal tea has its place, as does decaf, but I need black tea--English Breakfast, Irish Breakfast, English Teatime. I hold a special place in my heart for Earl Grey (sorry you purists). I love English tea (Red Label, Tetley's, PG Tips) largely because they seem to be more full-bodied, bold, and fragrant. My son has pointed out to me that he thinks I have a "problem," and perhaps he's right. I have missed my tea here. It has been surprisingly elusive to find a proper cup of tea. The Green tea is just fine, but to start the day I need a real cup of tea with lemon and sugar or milk (preferably half and half, forget the nonfat stuff) and sugar, or just straight.
That said, I can live without my other familiar and loved foods, namely chocolate. Whatever. I'll get back to you soon enough. The fact is, I am in love with Khmer cuisine. And I have been trying to figure our what the most important staples to try in my short time here. Soups seem to be big and common (see previous post, "Don't Worry" for just how big). I asked about food recommendations from Sum; he obliged (we actually had many meals together if you count the breakfasts that he ate while I drank tea!). I tried lok lak, Khmer curry, fish Amok ( several times) and three dishes I shared with Sum and Lucky on our day out to Banteay Srei. This was my last touring day with them, and Sum was a little more relaxed about things, so he informed me that we would all eat together and share, and so he ordered: morning glory soup with basil, shredded ginger with beef, and some unknown vegetable with egg in a sauce that I couldn't identify. It was almost smokey and bitter tasting, and the texture of the vegetable was somewhere between a melon and okra. While it wasn't my favorite of the three, but when I put some fish sauce and chili on it it was really quite excellent.
Last night I had Cambodian BBQ down the street from me at a resaurant that Sum suggested. There were a few meats that I recognized and a whole bunch that I didn't, but I put a bunch of stuff on my tray and tried to negotiate my table BBQ, which is more like a domed reverse wok in which you put some fat substance on the top which then melts down as your meats/soya cook. They then make their way into the moat which holds noodles and veggies and whatever manner of things you deem important, and it all cooks up into a highly tasty (if somewhat mysterious in my case) stew.
I have also had my fair share of Street food. It's cheap, often fried--what else could one ask? Some might argue that it's not safe, but most of the "restaurants" that I have eaten at here don't have traditional kitchens anyway. Go ahead, take your prophylactic Pepto Bismol and eat your street food!
I love the way interactions around food can bring out what is real in us, even if that is discomfort on a blind date, or joy around a family dinner table (or vice versa). It gives us an opportunity to share in the sacred act of nourishing and caring for our bodies. But it can also be fun and joyous, even educational, as my Khmer cooking class was today. Our cooking instructor was a young 27 year-old Cambodian whose mother died (they lived in a village) when she was six; her father became an alcoholic and died a couple of years later. The children were sent out to different aunts and uncles to become part of their families. Out instructor told the story of how she became one of the chefs at the restaurant. She also said, in rather a cheery demeanor, and honestly, I think, that she didn't know how to cry, she was so young at the time, but that she did know how to cook, and to share her life through her food. And her food through the stories of her life.
Any one who knows me knows that, for me, it's all about the stories.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Trust Your Guide
As hard it has been for me to trust various guides I've had in my (not so many) travels over the last several decades, so it has been hard for me to trust (for lack of a better phrase) my "inner" guides. On this trip, for whatever reason, I have been much more able and willing to trust my guides. Sometimes I have trusted without a second thought, other times I have come to trust through overcoming doubts or suspicious thoughts, sometimes I have come to trust through experience.
On my first day, the tuk tuk driver I met at the Buddhist Pagoda (seemed to be a trustworthy place to meet a tuk tuk driver!) when we made an arrangement for him to take me to Tonle Sap (see previous post--"Offerings"). Later that night he picked me up to take me to a tourist dinner and traditional Cambodian dance show that he had encouraged me to sign up for. He was a little late in picking me up and he explained (without taking his helmet off) that his grandmother was in the hospital with an injured leg and that he had to come up with a bunch of cash to help pay for it. He then, with some difficult I think, asked me if I could loan him or give him $50. I was in a spot--he seemed genuinely upset, and we had spent the day together and I felt he was a good guy. But it was my first day in town and I had heard so much about corruption, and I had already been duped earlier that day (donate to instead of delivering directly, except for your English lessons of course, to orphanages). And his request probably hit some nerve in me about my own difficulties around money and my clear status as having privilege (which I have trouble dealing with particularly gracefully sometimes). And I also didn't have $50 on me. I resisted him, but he pressed. And I ended up giving him the $20 I had. He insisted that I should call him (he gave me his mobile phone number) and that he would drive me during my stay. We parted. You probably think I'm nuts. But I let it go and went and had a reasonably good dinner in a huge banquet hall and saw some actually pretty interesting dance.
It turns out I didn't take any tuk tuks over the next many days (except in desperation later the next night when I walked quite in the wrong direction and had to succumb to taking a tuk tuk back to my hotel). Then a couple of days ago as I was biking past the Buddhist pagoda where we first met, I saw him--he waved, I waved happily back but kept moving in the flow of traffic. Yesterday I was walking to meet my new Dutch friend for lunch and he saw me walking down the street, turned his tuk tuk around (mid-street in chaotic traffic, as is the way here!) and asked me if he could take me somewhere. I was only going a couple of blocks, but I went with him. He asked me why I hadn't called, and I explained my non-tuk tuk travel. He reminded me to call him whenever I needed him. After lunch when we were walking over to the Old Market area, we saw Rea at the pagoda. My friend needed a ride to the hospital where her partner was with Dengue Fever--so Rea took us there (a long way and often a 3-5$ expense, depending on your bargaining skills), and brought me and a young Israeli couple (another story!) back of course without charge. He reminded me again to call him.
He has been true to his word. I believe I was right to trust in my instincts about Rea. It wasn't without doubts and hesitations, but I clearly need to trust my intuition and to trust in what I think is the basic truth about humans-- that we are all basically good souls, deserving of respect and trust.
On my first day, the tuk tuk driver I met at the Buddhist Pagoda (seemed to be a trustworthy place to meet a tuk tuk driver!) when we made an arrangement for him to take me to Tonle Sap (see previous post--"Offerings"). Later that night he picked me up to take me to a tourist dinner and traditional Cambodian dance show that he had encouraged me to sign up for. He was a little late in picking me up and he explained (without taking his helmet off) that his grandmother was in the hospital with an injured leg and that he had to come up with a bunch of cash to help pay for it. He then, with some difficult I think, asked me if I could loan him or give him $50. I was in a spot--he seemed genuinely upset, and we had spent the day together and I felt he was a good guy. But it was my first day in town and I had heard so much about corruption, and I had already been duped earlier that day (donate to instead of delivering directly, except for your English lessons of course, to orphanages). And his request probably hit some nerve in me about my own difficulties around money and my clear status as having privilege (which I have trouble dealing with particularly gracefully sometimes). And I also didn't have $50 on me. I resisted him, but he pressed. And I ended up giving him the $20 I had. He insisted that I should call him (he gave me his mobile phone number) and that he would drive me during my stay. We parted. You probably think I'm nuts. But I let it go and went and had a reasonably good dinner in a huge banquet hall and saw some actually pretty interesting dance.
It turns out I didn't take any tuk tuks over the next many days (except in desperation later the next night when I walked quite in the wrong direction and had to succumb to taking a tuk tuk back to my hotel). Then a couple of days ago as I was biking past the Buddhist pagoda where we first met, I saw him--he waved, I waved happily back but kept moving in the flow of traffic. Yesterday I was walking to meet my new Dutch friend for lunch and he saw me walking down the street, turned his tuk tuk around (mid-street in chaotic traffic, as is the way here!) and asked me if he could take me somewhere. I was only going a couple of blocks, but I went with him. He asked me why I hadn't called, and I explained my non-tuk tuk travel. He reminded me to call him whenever I needed him. After lunch when we were walking over to the Old Market area, we saw Rea at the pagoda. My friend needed a ride to the hospital where her partner was with Dengue Fever--so Rea took us there (a long way and often a 3-5$ expense, depending on your bargaining skills), and brought me and a young Israeli couple (another story!) back of course without charge. He reminded me again to call him.
He has been true to his word. I believe I was right to trust in my instincts about Rea. It wasn't without doubts and hesitations, but I clearly need to trust my intuition and to trust in what I think is the basic truth about humans-- that we are all basically good souls, deserving of respect and trust.
Are we there yet?
The last five days have been about two things: The Bicycle and The Temple. I came to Siem Reap with a vague idea that I would try to bicycle to whatever temples in the area I could, though I knew some were pretty far from home base, though some also seemed doable. I also read that bikes could be rented easily and cheaply. I was right about both these things. What I had no idea about was how easy or difficult it might be to navigate to these places, or if I would hire a tour guide at some point and for what (as the literature seemed to indicate was common practice). I also knew it was going to be monsoon season and so hot, steamy, sweaty, and wet. So with little sense of what exactly I was going to do, or how, or with whom, or when, I got on a plane for Southeast Asia.
I could not have not planned any better. My first day in town I rented a "town" or "simple" bike (aka a clunker--no gears, some brakes), and while I was exploring the streets near where I am staying I came across a bike touring company (see previous blog). I looked at their offerings, and without really knowing what temple I was going to, or where it was exactly (or even vaguely), or what 75 km converted to mile-wise, I signed up for a tour leaving at 7:00 am the next morning for Beng Mealea.
When I arrived the next morning I was greeted by a very slight, smiling young Cambodian man whose first interaction with me was to offer me a high five. I couldn't remember what the temple destination was, or which direction (perhaps I was still in jet lag mode), though I did figure out the ride was about 50 miles one way--the van would bring us back, happily. I was the only one who signed up for the tour, so off we went, stopping first in what Sum (my trusty bike and tour guide) referred to as a "suburb" of Siem Reap (though I can assure you it looked absolutely nothing like a western-style suburb), and what looked like to me a village market center with "restaurants," medical clinics, food stalls, shops, petrol (sold in l and 2-liter bottles from small stands to the motorcyclists). Sum had breakfast (eggs, beef, and rice and iced tea) and I had tea--green (more on my half-hearted quest for a proper cup of tea in a different blog). We also had a toilet break--"clean toilet" toilet Sum would come to say. This toilet was very clean, and also what I call (and maybe is still called by some?) a Turkish toilet--the kind you squat over, then pour a small bucket of water into to flush it.
The terrain we covered for the next 30 or so kilometers to the half-way mark was wonderful and interesting countryside, and we had the gift of having some cloud cover so the blazing sun was simply hot and steamy. The houses ranged from small and shack-like, to relatively large with actual windows on them (though not often the case on this particular ride). Almost every one was elevated on stilts--I thought because of the water rising and falling, but Sum (who grew up in a village not unlike some of the ones we saw) says it is for storage (for motorbikes and bicycles, for food, and for hammocks). And there were a lot of hammocks. And young kids (it's a school holiday) running after us along the red, gravely dirt path yelling "hello, hello!" and "goodbye, goodbye" always with big smiles on their faces. There were motorcycles carrying all manner of things and passengers, sometimes five people to a 100cc bike, or cargo, including pigs. The pigs were in all likelihood headed to market, and there were sometimes three to the back of a bike on their backs, tied down in submission, though occasionally squealing. It wouldn't go over well with animal activists, but how does a place like this, with an economy that doesn't really support many cars and trucks and which has many more motorcycles and bikes, get to humane treatment of animals?
At the half way point , we have a bottle of water (at least) and Sum smokes a cigarette. He invites me to try the hammock at our rest stop/roadside stand. I do. I get in and I really don't want to get out. I can see how it is we have seen so many people occupying hammocks on our ride. It's comfortable and the heat and humidity require us to do less and do it more slowly. I'm a total convert.
We continue our ride and I continue to find the rice fields and planting and harvesting of rice of interest. I enjoy the stories Sum tells about life in this area as well as his own life (among other things he was a Buddhist monk for 10 years). About 3/4 of the way there the sun has come out in full force. Not a cloud in the sky. I'm feeling a little depleted--it's about 11:00am and I at breakfast at about 6:30 am and I've been pedaling for four hours. I feel the effects of the heat, of hunger, of thirst (though I've been drinking some), and of age. I ask Sum if we can stop at the side of the road, and we do, though he makes a little fun of me, but also admits that sometimes he gets a bit dizzy from the sun and heat (and which is why, he later tells me, he doesn't wear sunglasses). I eat a couple of small bananas, drink some water, feel refreshed and off we go to the temple--the name of which I can't recall. In fact, this whole time, I have no idea really which direction we are headed (the roads we take are dirt, some not passable by car), or (until the half-way point) how far we have gone, or when we might arrive at our destination. And I don't even ask. I'm in no particular hurry. I figure we'll get to where we're going. Which we do.
It's unceremonious in some ways, Beng Mealea is. There's a pretty new looking building (clean bathrooms), and a formal looking gate with a guard, though for what I don't know. We pass through and there are restaurants and shops along this dirt road, as in many places we have passed through that are a bit more populated. (Pictures soon I hope.) The temple itself has barely had the jungle carved off of it, and it is clearly a battle to keep it that way. Not all parts of the temple are particularly passable. Those that are are via some plank walkways, and sometimes just planks. Clearly a hazard in western terms. Sum tells me the story of the temple, its ancient history and its recent history.This temple predates Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom. And it has really only been cleared of landmines in the last five years apparently, though no area is ever 100% cleared it seems.
I am continuously humbled by the suffering experienced by the people in this country, and the way in which the atmosphere is generally one of joy and optimism. I guess that's one reason why I can't stop smiling as we ride by the people smiling at us on the roadside and from their hammocks and homes. I suppose I look a little ridiculous out there on the dirt road on my mountain bike wearing a helmet with my white skin. No matter. In time, we all get to where we are supposed to be, whether we ask impatiently if we are there yet, or simply get absorbed in the journey and forget to ask.
I could not have not planned any better. My first day in town I rented a "town" or "simple" bike (aka a clunker--no gears, some brakes), and while I was exploring the streets near where I am staying I came across a bike touring company (see previous blog). I looked at their offerings, and without really knowing what temple I was going to, or where it was exactly (or even vaguely), or what 75 km converted to mile-wise, I signed up for a tour leaving at 7:00 am the next morning for Beng Mealea.
When I arrived the next morning I was greeted by a very slight, smiling young Cambodian man whose first interaction with me was to offer me a high five. I couldn't remember what the temple destination was, or which direction (perhaps I was still in jet lag mode), though I did figure out the ride was about 50 miles one way--the van would bring us back, happily. I was the only one who signed up for the tour, so off we went, stopping first in what Sum (my trusty bike and tour guide) referred to as a "suburb" of Siem Reap (though I can assure you it looked absolutely nothing like a western-style suburb), and what looked like to me a village market center with "restaurants," medical clinics, food stalls, shops, petrol (sold in l and 2-liter bottles from small stands to the motorcyclists). Sum had breakfast (eggs, beef, and rice and iced tea) and I had tea--green (more on my half-hearted quest for a proper cup of tea in a different blog). We also had a toilet break--"clean toilet" toilet Sum would come to say. This toilet was very clean, and also what I call (and maybe is still called by some?) a Turkish toilet--the kind you squat over, then pour a small bucket of water into to flush it.
The terrain we covered for the next 30 or so kilometers to the half-way mark was wonderful and interesting countryside, and we had the gift of having some cloud cover so the blazing sun was simply hot and steamy. The houses ranged from small and shack-like, to relatively large with actual windows on them (though not often the case on this particular ride). Almost every one was elevated on stilts--I thought because of the water rising and falling, but Sum (who grew up in a village not unlike some of the ones we saw) says it is for storage (for motorbikes and bicycles, for food, and for hammocks). And there were a lot of hammocks. And young kids (it's a school holiday) running after us along the red, gravely dirt path yelling "hello, hello!" and "goodbye, goodbye" always with big smiles on their faces. There were motorcycles carrying all manner of things and passengers, sometimes five people to a 100cc bike, or cargo, including pigs. The pigs were in all likelihood headed to market, and there were sometimes three to the back of a bike on their backs, tied down in submission, though occasionally squealing. It wouldn't go over well with animal activists, but how does a place like this, with an economy that doesn't really support many cars and trucks and which has many more motorcycles and bikes, get to humane treatment of animals?
At the half way point , we have a bottle of water (at least) and Sum smokes a cigarette. He invites me to try the hammock at our rest stop/roadside stand. I do. I get in and I really don't want to get out. I can see how it is we have seen so many people occupying hammocks on our ride. It's comfortable and the heat and humidity require us to do less and do it more slowly. I'm a total convert.
We continue our ride and I continue to find the rice fields and planting and harvesting of rice of interest. I enjoy the stories Sum tells about life in this area as well as his own life (among other things he was a Buddhist monk for 10 years). About 3/4 of the way there the sun has come out in full force. Not a cloud in the sky. I'm feeling a little depleted--it's about 11:00am and I at breakfast at about 6:30 am and I've been pedaling for four hours. I feel the effects of the heat, of hunger, of thirst (though I've been drinking some), and of age. I ask Sum if we can stop at the side of the road, and we do, though he makes a little fun of me, but also admits that sometimes he gets a bit dizzy from the sun and heat (and which is why, he later tells me, he doesn't wear sunglasses). I eat a couple of small bananas, drink some water, feel refreshed and off we go to the temple--the name of which I can't recall. In fact, this whole time, I have no idea really which direction we are headed (the roads we take are dirt, some not passable by car), or (until the half-way point) how far we have gone, or when we might arrive at our destination. And I don't even ask. I'm in no particular hurry. I figure we'll get to where we're going. Which we do.
It's unceremonious in some ways, Beng Mealea is. There's a pretty new looking building (clean bathrooms), and a formal looking gate with a guard, though for what I don't know. We pass through and there are restaurants and shops along this dirt road, as in many places we have passed through that are a bit more populated. (Pictures soon I hope.) The temple itself has barely had the jungle carved off of it, and it is clearly a battle to keep it that way. Not all parts of the temple are particularly passable. Those that are are via some plank walkways, and sometimes just planks. Clearly a hazard in western terms. Sum tells me the story of the temple, its ancient history and its recent history.This temple predates Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom. And it has really only been cleared of landmines in the last five years apparently, though no area is ever 100% cleared it seems.
I am continuously humbled by the suffering experienced by the people in this country, and the way in which the atmosphere is generally one of joy and optimism. I guess that's one reason why I can't stop smiling as we ride by the people smiling at us on the roadside and from their hammocks and homes. I suppose I look a little ridiculous out there on the dirt road on my mountain bike wearing a helmet with my white skin. No matter. In time, we all get to where we are supposed to be, whether we ask impatiently if we are there yet, or simply get absorbed in the journey and forget to ask.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Zen and the Art of Bicycle Riding
Riding a bicycle around Siem Reap, Cambodia is a lot easier than it looks. The streets look chaotic, the crosswalks a vague notion (you see them there but they don't mean anything as far as I can see). There are afew stop lights, and the walk/don't walk signs are hysterical as well as instructive (I'll try and upload my video clip at some point). When green, there is a second countdown on top and a figure of a person walking underneath. As the seconds tick down, the figure moves faster and faster until it looks like it might go into cardiac arrest. Then it goes red. Not that anyone pays attention to any of this. But it is informative since stop lights, as far as I can see, are lowly regarded.
The greatest proportion of vehicles seems to be motos and tuk tuks, a large number of bicycles, and of course cars, trucks, and tour buses. And everyone uses their horn generously, but not hostilely. The honking is more informational than a complaint, as it often is in the States (though I realize sometimes it is informational). Motorcycles, tuk tuks, bicycles, autos-- they all can be found driving down the wrong side of the street when necessary. There are not that many stop lights, and I know there must be stop signs, but I only remember seeing a few on my sojourns. How does this city manage without continual accidents?
Here's my theory (and I'm sticking to it for now and also recognize its limitations so it comes with the usual caveats, but no quid pro quos). This is a city, a county, with a large number of Buddhists. I have commented I think in an earlier blog on how open the people generally are given recent and very difficult history. They actually, despite appearances to the naked Western eye (or at least my eye), drive with a lot of care. I know this because my main form of transportation has been by bike. I have rented a bike everyday since I've been here--either the clunker from the guesthouse I'm staying in for 1$/day, or from Grasshopper Adventures (for the two days of tour I went on with them--see other blog). Bicyclists do not wear helmets (though most of the motorcyclists/tuk tuk drivers do). Riding, as in driving in many cities, is a lot about attitude. And while it at first looks like an aggressive-NYC-get-in-there-and-assert-your-place-on-the-road attiotude might be the best strategy, it really isn't. Everyone drives very mindfully; they watch each other, they yield (though not always discernible to an observer, granted!) carefully, they honk to inform. I have only once felt the negligence of a driver asserting himself inappropriately, and I really felt some fear. Otherwise, I have felt virtually no fear in riding around the city, in the countryside, around the temples, even when sharing narrow, bumpy, nearly impassible roads with buses, trucks, motos, etc.; even when vehicles of all kinds are coming at me from the wrong side of the street, or they cross suddenly in front of me to make that left hand turn.
Riding around here has been one of the most enlightening experiences I've had in all of my driving experiences. And not just in that it is an interesting driving experience (though it is that, too). It is, like most experiences (I sound like a broken record, I know!), a life lesson. It has helped me practice paying attention, taking care. I find that I have a bit of a careless streak in me. When I'm riding my bike here, I get to give that up amongst the masses (and it does often feel that way on the city streets!) of drivers, and join in the humanity of a place long plagued by inhumanity.
The greatest proportion of vehicles seems to be motos and tuk tuks, a large number of bicycles, and of course cars, trucks, and tour buses. And everyone uses their horn generously, but not hostilely. The honking is more informational than a complaint, as it often is in the States (though I realize sometimes it is informational). Motorcycles, tuk tuks, bicycles, autos-- they all can be found driving down the wrong side of the street when necessary. There are not that many stop lights, and I know there must be stop signs, but I only remember seeing a few on my sojourns. How does this city manage without continual accidents?
Here's my theory (and I'm sticking to it for now and also recognize its limitations so it comes with the usual caveats, but no quid pro quos). This is a city, a county, with a large number of Buddhists. I have commented I think in an earlier blog on how open the people generally are given recent and very difficult history. They actually, despite appearances to the naked Western eye (or at least my eye), drive with a lot of care. I know this because my main form of transportation has been by bike. I have rented a bike everyday since I've been here--either the clunker from the guesthouse I'm staying in for 1$/day, or from Grasshopper Adventures (for the two days of tour I went on with them--see other blog). Bicyclists do not wear helmets (though most of the motorcyclists/tuk tuk drivers do). Riding, as in driving in many cities, is a lot about attitude. And while it at first looks like an aggressive-NYC-get-in-there-and-assert-your-place-on-the-road attiotude might be the best strategy, it really isn't. Everyone drives very mindfully; they watch each other, they yield (though not always discernible to an observer, granted!) carefully, they honk to inform. I have only once felt the negligence of a driver asserting himself inappropriately, and I really felt some fear. Otherwise, I have felt virtually no fear in riding around the city, in the countryside, around the temples, even when sharing narrow, bumpy, nearly impassible roads with buses, trucks, motos, etc.; even when vehicles of all kinds are coming at me from the wrong side of the street, or they cross suddenly in front of me to make that left hand turn.
Riding around here has been one of the most enlightening experiences I've had in all of my driving experiences. And not just in that it is an interesting driving experience (though it is that, too). It is, like most experiences (I sound like a broken record, I know!), a life lesson. It has helped me practice paying attention, taking care. I find that I have a bit of a careless streak in me. When I'm riding my bike here, I get to give that up amongst the masses (and it does often feel that way on the city streets!) of drivers, and join in the humanity of a place long plagued by inhumanity.
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