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A year in the circus

Sarina Dahlan walking in front of South Park grafiti

In 2018, I ran away and joined the circus. 

That’s what writing is. You spin and you twirl. You create an illusion, a trapdoor, an escape pod. You fly out of the cannon and jump through hoops. You explore the greater truth by creating world out of nothing in the hopes of capturing that elusive thing we call imagination.

So what has the year been like living at the circus? 

Learning the craft

For a trapeze artist to be able to perform a summersault and catch the swing without falling to the pit, she spent countless hours practicing. Same thing with writers. Anyone can be a writer. But a decent one? That’s a different story. To get there, one has to write. A lot. 

There’s a dimple in my couch from my habit. It is where I sit (usually with my cat next to me), imagine, and type. I think of writing as an excavation of sorts. You know something is there, buried deep underneath the dirt. You just have to dig it up. Sometimes with a shovel. Sometimes with a spoon. Rarely with a digger. But you’re not going to get at it without doing it. 

In my first draft, I’m an archeologist, discovering a lost world. With each rewrite, I imagine myself with a pickax and a brush, chiseling off packed dirt and debris to reveal the things beneath. The novel I finished earlier this year underwent 4 complete revisions. Each time, I learned more about the characters, their motivations, and the path they take. And behind my collection of short stories, Shadow Play: Ten Tales from the In-between, there are many more too terrible to share. I am a spoon digger. 

Writing is leaping through the air and failing over and over again in an attempt to achieve one good jump. The kick in the head is that, afterward, you’re still unsure whether you’ll catch the bar the next time. 

Sarina walking in front of South Park graffiti 3

Finding the tribe

Writers are oddities. David Mamet (Pulitzer prize winner) said we’re like beavers, our teeth always itching to take down a tree. So true. Writers write because we have to. Because not doing it feels unnatural. For some, it’s a way to quiet the monsters within. For others, it’s a way to make sense of the world and to make peace with our conscience. Some even do it for money, although it takes a special kind of optimism to think one can make substantial money from writing (at least from the outset.)

Social media has been a blessing to writers. It’s a place we find likeminded people who will commiserate with us about the difficulties of the craft, who understand why we want to quit for the hundredth time but will never let us, and who will celebrate our wins and tell us when we can do better. We learn from each other. 

Writers on social media, as a whole, are the most supportive people (one of my favorite groups is Indie Author Coalition.) Some of the writers I’ve met on the Internet, I would hug them to death if I ever met them in real life from adoring them so much. Honestly. You know why? Writing is not a competitive field. The learning curve is steep. And people get better with age and experience. So there’s a lot of information sharing and kumbaya-ing around the light of the computer screen within this community. I love my freaks. 

And it’s so necessary because…

Dealing with the industry

Sarina Dahlan walking in front of a South Park graffiti 4

The industry is so difficult to break into and it has a way of breaking your spirit. In the traditional publishing path, there are so many gatekeepers between you and the readers. Once you have a manuscript, you need a literary agent. To get an agent you have to convince a complete stranger via email to read your eighty-thousand words that they may end up hating. Once you’re lucky enough to catch the eye of an amazing agent, you then have to work together (preferably in harmony) to polish your manuscript in order to convince a publishing house to pay you, a no-name writer, a sum of money to publish it. This process can take months, if not years.

And the hard reality is your manuscript may never sell. 

If or when it does, then your manuscript will go through a multitude of editors who will polish it until the publishing house feels it’s shiny enough to be released into the world. 

After which you’ll face yet another hard reality that your book may never sell.

This process is not for you? Okay, there’s self-publishing. This bypasses the agent and the publishing house. Sounds good right? But you’ll have to be prepared that you are now the agent, the publicist, and the publishing house. You’re responsible for everything from editing to market research, to book cover to typesetting (even when you can pay someone to do it). You’re the one pushing the ‘publish’ button. Having done it myself for the first time, it is a finger-biting and exhilarating moment. It is all on you.

Oh and don’t forget the fun of book marketing…

Writers LOVE book marketing, never. Even ones who like marketing (hello…) It’s different when it is your art. Many view it as a step above sticking something sharp into their nose and pulling their brains out. You’re the charlatan, the snake oil seller, the pimp of your book baby. Okay, I’m exaggerating. But it is a lot of work—a balancing act between telling your potential readers that your book exists and annoying them to death with it. How do you share that your book is worth their time without sounding like an egomaniac? I’m still testing various ways, but none of which is hard selling. People hate to be sold to. 

Are you a writer who dreams of having bookstores carry your book? Do you want a book signing? When you self-publish, it becomes your job to go there, meet with the powers-that-be and convince them. Do you want the library to carry it? It is also your job to go there, and…you get the picture. But it’s not impossible with a search engine, a phone, and time. I recently went to two local bookstores. One of which ended up carrying my book because they believe in supporting local authors (Thank you Verbatim Books). Local libraries also have donation program. You can donate your book and see if they’d want to carry it. 

Dealing with the business side

There are costs associated with being a writer. In my self-publishing path, I’ve spent money on a laptop, ISBNs, copyrighting, marketing, book cover design, writing classes, and printed books (including shipping, which is insane btw.) This does not include the countless hours spent writing, thinking up ideas, researching, attending classes, and marketing. So far in my very young writing career, this business is bleeding, red as blood.  

Does it mean you cannot make money out of writing? No. There are Facebook groups dedicated to sharing information on how to make writing into a lucrative career (like 20booksto50k.) It works for some, especially those writing in specific genres or to market, which is to say they give their readers exactly what they think they’d want.

While I am still trying to discover the type of writer I am, I know I am a spoon digger, scratching at the dirt bit by bit in order to unearth something beautiful I believe lies beneath. Knowing I would never be able to write enough books to sell in bulk, I knew I had to be smart in other ways. And that’s in how I choose to market. Amazon Marketing Service has a program in which authors can advertise their books using a set of keywords. They charge per click. The idea is to marry a good ad with a set of keywords that will result in a good average cost per sale. It’s not perfect. But it can work if you know how to wield the tool. There are so many resources new writers can use to arm themselves with knowledge. Search and learn. 

Finding a home

Sarina walking in front of South Park graffiti 5

After a year in the circus and spending time behind the curtains, do I still love writing? Oh, yes. There is a sense of wonder I still get from the process of creating worlds, from having people and images appear out of thin air, from trying to solve the puzzles of their lives. Although I feel I am still wandering from tent to tent, trying to find just the right place where I belong. It may not be the glitzy Cirque du Soleil kind with glittery costumes and perfect make-up. It may be more like “Carnivale” the Depression-era circus with patched up tents and dusty outfits. But there is a romance to it. And perhaps real magic hidden within. I’m okay with that.

I look forward to jumping into the unknown of 2019 and see where I land. Like Neo, I choose the red pill.

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The Closet Introvert travels alone

Traveling alone is easier than ever.

Not because the smartphones have created countries of socially awkward people that would choose a root canal over making eye contact, making it safe to walk the streets of where ever. Okay…maybe smartphones are a little to blame. NO: our mothers raised a generation of strong, confident and curious daughters.  These superpowers have enabled us to go forth and push boundaries while making sure that we always keep one heel solidly on the ground.

San Francisco

The introvert part?  Well, that’s what the Meyer Lemon Briggs survey told me: I’m a closet introvert.

The thought of traveling alone may seem daunting: It’s easy to feel lonely in a crowd. But the rewards of hanging solo are well worth the effort.  Think of it as yoga for the mind: stretch it in ways it has never been.

To help you with your “stretching”, below are some things to keep in mind when you travel alone:

 

Overlooking New York City

Common Sense

The super-secret tool that not everyone on this planet has (sadly). Be aware of where you are and the people around you.  It also means don’t travel to a place that is the news a lot – that usually means it’s not a safe place.  Exercising your common sense doesn’t mean you leave adventure at the door or let paranoia take over; it just means that you need to exercise the proper amount of caution and people savvy to stay safe.  Common sense also will prevent you from wearing hot pants when visiting a 1,000-year-old church on a Sunday.

 

Boys and rats with wings, I mean pigeons

Friend du jour

I’ve often shared a table with a stranger or sat at the bar of a restaurant when dropping in for a meal.  It’s not for everyone, but if you come across a gem of soul that is willing to share a table, you’ll learn about new places to check out, places to avoid, places to eat, places to shop.  Locals love to share highlights of their city and only need an opportunity to get them going. I like to think of myself as Padawan learning about the Force of the City (Yes, I’ve seen the movies).  Buy your new friend a drink as a thank you.

 

San Francisco Streetcar

My time is my time

Traveling alone means you set the agenda and the pace. Taking some time to slowly wander allows you to take in the sights, the smells and the vibe of the place.  Go where you want to go, when you want. I’ve often made lists of things I want to see, do, eat and carry with me as a reference.  I’ll do whatever is on the list if the mood allows.  Once in San Francisco, one day consisted of a huge breakfast, joining the 80-year-olds in their daily tai chi exercises before collapsing at Washington Park to just sit and read for an hour, moseying around in North Beach checking out the pastries, meatballs and drinking tons of coffee, then jumping on the double-decker red touring bus to listen to the history and highlights of the city. I ended the day at a steakhouse with lots of amusée from the chef who thought it was brave of little ol’ me to eat alone in such a fine establishment.

 

Bamboo forest path, Arashiyama, Kyoto

Be brave

This is your time to be who you want to be.  Don’t be afraid to let yourself go….as long as it’s legal.  Do something you’ve always wanted to; leave inhibitions at the door. Feel free to do it in small steps: wear something you would NEVER wear at home, do your make-up differently, let the waiter decide what you should eat.  You’ll find that you’ll carry your braveness when back to the normal routine of your life.

Not so lonely benches  in John Muir Woods

Have a journal ready

Your mind will amaze you when you give yourself to you. Not everyone is a writer, but everyone can jot down thoughts, observations, things to remember, things to do next time. The journal also comes in handy when you want to take notes of things to do, places to go when you talk to locals.  Don’t worry about style: this is the book that is meant for you and you alone.  I often begin writing on the back page first, then insert pictures in the front section so I have mini-album to remember my trip by.  The journal also includes my list of things I want to do & see so that I have a record, in case I want to re-visit and have a do-over.

 

Summertime at the Golden Gate Bridge (seriously)

Have fun 

Do what you want.  Having fun may mean breaking up your daily routines. My first day is: eat a big breakfast early in the morning, then eat lunch at 3p, then dinner at 8p, then roll my bloated butt to relax in a bubble bath with a tablet for a movie or a book until I get pruney.  This is not my normal routine…I just want it to be.  Don’t worry about how you are perceived.  If you get weird looks, take the high road and know that they are jealous that they don’t have the kind of courage you do and move on.  Don’t be like me:  I took the low road and gave some people the stink eye…it didn’t end well as I ended up giving those people way too much space in my head than they deserved. (Side note:  I did learn how to give very good stink eye, but still…)

 

A path in Austin, TX

Do a practice run

If you feel that traveling to a new place alone is too daunting, book a weekend alone in a hotel.  Book a place you’ve always wanted to stay at or near so that you can take advantage of local sights and eats.  You’ll be near home, but not at home.  Need to pass time?  Book a massage in the hotel.  Afraid to eat alone in public?  Order room service.  Want to be completely lazy?  Go ahead – you’re alone and no one is around to judge.

A little creek in the forest

The joys of traveling alone far outweigh the fears. I’ve seen sunrises in a desert, a frozen waterfall, hiked to see a secluded waterfall, heard people tell their stories, had docents of museums and churches take me under their wing to share history, ate fabulous meals, watched the grunion run, got my massage upgraded, found new ways to relax and more.  Each time I travel alone, I come back counting the days until I can leave to find a new happy place.

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What to eat in New Orleans when you can’t taste a thing

This winter comes with a bad flu season. I was one such unlucky soul who had the flu that hit me like a Category 5 Hurricane deserving of a name. Then it morphed into a mean cold that left me weak and miserable. I couldn’t eat, barely slept, and felt like my inside was rotting. After I emerged from its claws, I was left a few pounds lighter and with a disabled taste palate.

But I had a girl trip planned. For those of us lucky enough to have loyal girlfriends we’ve known for most our lives, we know girl trips are sacred. It is when good friends dig themselves out of the heap of their busy lives to meet in one place and reconnect. Spend quality time. Have fun. So, I couldn’t miss it unless I was dying. And I was past death’s door.

This year we decided on New Orleans. Except for one, none of us had ever been there. We picked it for its jazz scene, the backdrop of French and Spanish colonial architecture, and its famous Creole food.

New Orleans’ heritage

New Orleans has an amazing history that speaks to its multi-lingual and multi-cultural heritage. It was a French colony founded in 1718. In 1763, the French ceded it to the Spanish Empire in the Treaty of Paris. Then it went back to the French in 1803. Shortly after, Napoleon sold it to the United States as part of the Louisiana Purchase. A flood of immigrants followed. Anglo-Americans, Germans, and Irish joined the Creole French and Spaniards, the refugees from Haiti, the Native Americans, the Mulattos or mixed-race people, and the Black slaves.

As one of the biggest southern ports, the city played a significant role in the slave trade. New Orleans was the nation’s largest slave market that supplied the surrounding sugarcane plantations and the rest in the south. The Civil War and the Emancipation Proclamation abolishing slavery changed its fabric. Many slaves left the plantations to join the Union military. Plantation owners lost a livelihood that fed their lavish antebellum estates and lifestyle. Slaves’ lives were no longer counted a part of New Orleans’ wealth. Over time it experienced a decline as more people migrated to the West coast where industries were growing.

With its unique culture and rich history, New Orleans has always been on my list of places to visit. I almost went there in 2005, but Hurricane Katrina happened. It devastated the city, drowning 80% of its land and killing 1,464 of its people. What it did not do was erase the friendly nature of its people nor ruin the strength of its spirit.

Twelve years later, I finally had my chance to experience New Orleans. I had dreams of eating fried chicken for breakfast, a mountain of crawfish for lunch, Étouffée for dinner, and beignets for midnight snack. But when my taste palate had short circuited and I could barely taste a thing, I had to re-jigger my plan.

Here’s a short list of the foods that I enjoyed. They woke up my pathetic palate, comforted my tummy and sandpaper-y throat, and fed my soul.

Citrus roasted chicken at Café Amelie

This cute restaurant was my first introduction to New Orleans’ culinary scene. Located in the French Quarter, it boasts a beautiful courtyard. At night it is lit with small hanging lights, making the setting romantic and dreamy. I usually do not order chicken at restaurants but I wanted something that was not going to shock my still battle-scarred throat. I was pleasantly surprised that I liked this simple dish as much as I did. The chicken was juicy and soft. The mashed potatoes that accompanied it was creamy and buttery. It was a sweet ‘hello, nice to meet you’ from the city.

Address: 912 Royal Street, New Orleans, LA

Raw oysters at Red Fish Grill

New Orleans is famous for its oysters. And I ate plenty of them. At 75 cents each during Happy Hour, the oysters at Red Fish Grill were cheap and cheerful. The fresh and sweet shellfish came with lemon wedges and cocktail sauce laced with horseradish. The ice-cold oysters went down smooth and soothed my throat.

Address: 115 Bourbon Street, New Orleans, LA

Chargrilled oysters at Acme Oyster House

Saturated in garlic, herb butter, and topped with a blend of cheeses, the chargrilled oysters were one of my favorite dishes in New Orleans. It came with slices of bread to soak up the delicious, ecstasy-induced sauce. We loved it so much we ordered it twice. I still think of it sometimes.

Address: 724 Iberville Street, New Orleans, LA 

Shrimp bisque soup and Strawberry Shortcake at The Commander’s Palace

The Commander’s Palace has been an institution since 1893. With its robin’s egg blue Victorian architecture, you cannot miss this stately building in the Garden district. Most people go there for the 25-cent martinis. We went there after our walk at La Fayette Cemetery Number 1 where a part of “Interview with a Vampire” was filmed. The highlight at the Commander’s Palace was our waiter, Lorenzo. Originally from France, he migrated here in a move he called ‘destiny’. He treated us like special friends, embraced us with his gracious hospitality, and made recommendations that were thoughtful and surprising. He even escorted us to the restroom. What a gentleman!

The shrimp bisque soup was a soup du jour, and I was glad I ordered it. Its creaminess was balanced by the acidity from the tomato base. The shrimp was sautéed separately and had a delicious salty flavor. It was warm and comforting, just like our service. The shortcake is made of local fresh strawberries, served with buttermilk biscuit and topped with Chantilly whipped cream. It was a perfect ending to our meal.

Address: 1403 Washington Avenue, New Orleans, LA

Beignet and Café Au Lait at Café Du Monde

The 24-hour café sells my favorite beignets. They are crispy on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. They’re served piping hot with a coat of powdered sugar that woke me up at first bite. But what I enjoyed even more was the Café Au Lait. It is mixed with chicory, a perennial herb that lives as a wild plant on roadsides in its native Europe. The Creole French developed this mix during the Civil War when coffee was a rare commodity. It softens the bitter flavor and adds almost a chocolate flavor, making the coffee nutty and mellow.

Address: 800 Decatur Street, New Orleans, LA

Chicken St. Charles Egg Benedict at the Ruby Slipper Café

Here was my chance to have fried chicken for breakfast. The Chicken St. Charles is made of fried chicken breast over a warm and crispy buttermilk biscuit, topped with two poached eggs. It was a quintessential southern dish, rich in calories and flavors.

Address: 1005 Canal Street, New Orleans, LA

Sukiyaki noodle soup at Sukhothai restaurant

Sukiyaki was originally a Japanese dish that transformed into one of the favorites in Thailand. It is a light soup made with vegetables, glass noodles, and seafood. What makes this dish special is the sauce of chili paste, fermented soybean, pickled garlic, sesame seeds, and cilantro. It’s not usually served in Thai restaurants in the U.S. We found Sukhothai in the Old French Quarter. The food there tasted as good as Thai food can be outside of the country. I ordered this dish mild with a side of extra sauce instead of the nuclear spiciness I usually enjoy, and it was delicious.

Address: 2200 Royal Street, New Orleans, LA

While I was disappointed in myself for not having my healthy taste palate in New Orleans, I made the best of it with what this diverse culinary city has to offer. I do plan to revisit and have a do over. Watch out New Orleans!

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Genchi Genbutsu: “Go and see for yourself”

“While we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one.” – J.K. Rowling

I recently combined a fear of traveling alone with a dream of visiting SE Asia. I lived out of a backpack, partied without my usual friends, and went on some crazy adventure trips. In this blog post, I will share my highest moment, my oh sh-t moments, why dating is so hard for me (*harder than it already is for the average person), and my self-discovery moment.

I have been dealt unique cards throughout my life, and I have been, and still am trying my best to play the hand masterfully. To create a backdrop, I did not have strong role models growing up. My mother abandoned me as a child. My father is a man of few words. My stepmother is a classic “tiger mom” and reassured me that I’d be a starving artist after I decided to pursue a Film degree. I spent my childhood in the Mission and Tenderloin districts of San Francisco. For non-San Franciscans, this translates to hipsters and drug addicts, respectively. In elementary school, I discovered what it was like to be stalked by sexual predators (yes, plural). In high school, my stepmother slapped me when I did not understand a math problem, and pretty hard too, I should add, especially for a woman of such petite stature. The icing on the cake is that she favors her own son over me. The benefit to all of this? At a young age, I developed a tough skin and an inherent understanding of the fact that oftentimes, life is not fair. But to put my cards on the table, I have battled (past tense) alcohol abuse, and more specifically, having grown up without a strong motherly figure, I struggle (present tense) to see my own beauty. I don’t know how to take a compliment, and I second-guess myself every time I swipe right or meet someone IRL.

Friends who know me well will know that I am deathly afraid of three things:
1. Snakes, worms, and caterpillars
2. The sight of blood
3. Ex-girlfriends

The first two are arbitrary, but the third one is directly related to the aforementioned paragraph.

Throughout my childhood, the only constant was change, so as an adult, I find myself avoiding change and incessantly trying to hold onto things, whether it’s a job, a boyfriend, and so on. To adapt to this flaw, my approach is to avoid my comfort zone, because this is where dreams go to die. And so, it’s with this mentality that I decided to throw my things into a backpack and buy a one-way ticket to SE Asia to embark on a self-discovery trip. Trust me, while it may seem like it was a whimsical decision, you should know that I was on the brink of tears waiting in the security line at the airport; my heart was palpitating and my hands were trembling as I boarded my plane.

This blog post will focus primarily on my “oh sh-t moments,” because 1) I realize that no one cares what fun thing I did on this day and what I ate on that day, and 2) the “oh sh-t moments” crystallize lessons learned.

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To start, I will share my single, highest moment:

My favorite pho restaurant in SF has a framed photograph of Ha Long Bay, and every time I eat there, I admire it. I booked a one-night cruise to sail through Ha Long Bay, and it was easily the highest moment of my backpacking trip in nine countries. We sailed to the furthest point, Bai Tu Long Bay, so there were no other boats around. That night, everyone had retired to their rooms, but I went out to the bow of the boat. I sipped on my Ha Long beer, listened to the gentle splashing of the emerald waters against our boat, and looked up at the stars as they illuminated the towering limestone pillars surrounding me. It made me complete. I love the mantra of “speaking it into reality,” and that night, I thought to myself, “I did it. I’m here.”

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Now I’ll move on to…

Oh sh-t moment #1:

Ironically, it was on this same cruise that I experienced my first low moment. I met Emma and her mother, Sheryl, from New Zealand on my cruise. They were taking a mother/daughter trip together. As bittersweet as it was to discover this, I couldn’t help but warm up to them because they were so sweet. That night during dinner, there was arranged seating, so I was paired with another solo traveler, and adjacent to me was Emma, who was sitting across from her mother. And that was when it hit me, “Oh sh-t, this feels painful.” I could barely turn to even look at them. They were experiencing something so special that I will never have the chance to experience.

Oh sh-t moment #2:

My next destination following Vietnam was Myanmar. Upon arriving to Noi Bai International Airport and checking into my flight to Bagan, the airline representative asked for my Myanmar visa. I didn’t have one, because only then did I realize that I misread an online source regarding visas for Myanmar. You need one IN ADVANCE. (Pro tip: Do thorough research on every country and its visa requirements, if any.) To complicate matters, there are no direct flights to Bagan, so I needed to catch two flights that day, and the “oh sh-t moment” was when reality quickly set in that there was no way I was getting on these two flights, and that I would need to re-calibrate, get a rush visa ($198), and re-book flights ($$$).

Oh sh-t moment #3:

Four days later, I was armed with my Myanmar rush visa, and I proudly boarded my flight to Yangon, and then my flight from Yangon to Bagan. I was nervous about visiting this country because of the current events around the Rohingya refugee crisis. A friend of mine advised me not to go, but the heart wants what the heart wants, which was to fly in a hot air balloon over the temples of Bagan (don’t judge). Upon finally arriving to Nyaung U Airport, the power straight up just went out in the entire airport. After about 10 minutes, the power returned to reveal five guys standing by the exit hustling taxi rides. There was nowhere in this tiny airport to buy a SIM card, so I held my breath and took a chance on getting into an unmarked car to take me to my hotel. (I made it to my hotel safely, and fast forward to the next morning…) I woke up at 4:30am, pumped to get into that hot air balloon. A minivan arrived to pick me up. Inside were two men, neither of which spoke English. Outside, the sky was pitch black and the roads were unpaved, with little to nothing as far as houses and buildings. I looked down at my phone only to be reminded that I had no cell phone reception. I thought to myself, this could very well be how I will die. (Fast forward: I did not die. I discovered later that morning that hot air balloon rides were cancelled due to the rain, and that if I wanted to, I could try again the next morning. So I did it all over again the next morning only to receive the same update. By this point, I had to catch my next flight to Bangkok, so after jumping through all of these fiery hoops to get to Bagan, I couldn’t do the one thing I had set out to do.) The resounding “oh sh-t moment” actually hit me when I was in Thailand, where I traded travel stories with a new friend, who said, “Even as a guy, he wouldn’t go to Myanmar by himself.” And that’s when I thought to myself, “Sh-t, I can’t believe I just did that.”

Oh sh-t moment #4:

I befriended a gentleman on my flight from Yangon to Bangkok. He referred to himself as Dr. No. We shared a natural rapport. He was a successful businessman originally from South Korea, now based in Thailand. As a solo female backpacker, a theme throughout my travels was thin-slicing, and I tried my best to thin-slice Dr. No. I was comforted by the fact that he showed me photos of his wife and two kids, although my spidey senses tickled when he then told me that his wife and children live in South Korea, he alluded to his affinity for having fun, and he even invited me to his house for a homemade dinner prepared by his maid. Despite that, I felt a good enough read from him, and I told him how I was glad to have made a new friend in Bangkok, as I’d heard mixed things about the city and was nervous about arriving, dealing with tuk-tuks, sex tourism, etc. He said that he had a private car picking him up, and offered to give me a ride to my hotel. Again, thin-slicing as best I could, I felt that he was trustworthy enough for me to agree to a ride. (And hey, it was pretty stressful at times as a solo female backpacker, and the thought of a ride to my hotel in a private car was alluring.) Upon arriving to Bangkok, sure enough, a luxury minivan pulled up. The driver put our bags in the trunk and then escorted me into the minivan. The moment the door closed, I thought, “Oh sh-t”. I stared at the door handle, and a flurry of “What if’s” raced through my mind. (Fast forward: After politely declining his invite to have dinner at his house, Dr. No treated me to a seafood dinner in Bangkok’s Chinatown, and then dropped me off at my hotel. After graciously thanking him for everything, he explained that his birthday was next week, and he felt compelled to do a good deed before then, i.e.: looking out for a solo female traveler. He said that I should think of him as a Korean “older brother”. Sounds too good to be true, in my humble opinion, but we will never know what his real intentions were as I never called him back. I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, though, and think that perhaps he really was just a kindhearted person looking out for someone that greatly appreciated it.)

Oh sh-t moment #5:

This one is eerily similar to “Oh sh-t moment #1” in that Anneli and her mother were also doing a mother/daughter trip. Anneli was planning to do a solo trip to Thailand, and the salt on the wound was when I found out that her mother wouldn’t let Anneli go alone because she was too worried about her. As bittersweet as it was to meet them, I couldn’t help but say to Anneli’s mother, “You are a good mother.”

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At the onset of my trip, I knew that there would be moments when everything goes south on me, and I wanted to experience these “oh sh-t moments” to challenge my fear of change and to grow as a person. At the time, the “oh sh-t moments” felt awful, and I really thought to myself, “This is it. This is how I end,” but it’s about playing through the pain and conditioning your mind to see the benefit in any situation. Missing my Myanmar flights meant that I had three more nights in Hanoi, and it was on my last night there that I discovered THE BEST PHO. And as for the moments involving my mother, or lack thereof rather, it was a humble reminder that between loving and abhorring something, there is acceptance. I learned that taking deep breaths goes a long way. This trip was about creative problem solving, trusting in yourself, and in others (plus thin-slicing, obviously).

I needed to experience these overseas “oh sh-t moments” to prepare me for…

Oh sh-t moment #6:

I flew home for a friend’s wedding reception on November 11. I knew that my ex-boyfriend would be there, which was okay since we’re on good terms. Sometimes, as evident during my travels, the universe likes to test what I’m made of, because standing alongside my ex-boyfriend was his date–his ex-girlfriend. I just saw and conquered the world, so it was a paradoxical feeling to face one of my kryptonites shortly thereafter. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that if I could handle all of those oh sh-t moments in SE Asia, there is nothing that I can’t handle, including this. After all, to step out of your comfort zone means to face your fears, so I am proud to say that I pushed through the fight-or-flight response, and I smiled the entire night. (However, I am not proud to admit that my hands were trembling and that I succumbed to my other kryptonite of self-medicating with alcohol.) I feel embarrassed to even deem this as an “oh sh-t moment,” because I acknowledge that it really is quite trivial after traveling around the world and gaining perspective on what really matters, but it goes to show how deep this fear runs in my veins.

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To end on a high note: My self-discovery moment

I hired a private driver in Myanmar to take me around to the temples. I barely understood any of his English, but I was okay with it, because the sights of the country compensated. When he dropped me off at the airport, he told me that he’s driven around a lot of travelers, but I stood out to him because I had a positive demeanor. And apparently, not complaining about his English meant a lot to him, because he’s received a lot of hate for it in the past.

As I mentioned at the start of this entry, I don’t know how to take a compliment. I needed to fly halfway around the world to have my driver in Myanmar tell me that I’m good–that I’m doing okay despite the cards I’ve been dealt.

Here is my driver singing along with the radio. Although I don’t understand Burmese, I still felt the love.

 

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Having heard the good, the bad, and the ugly about SE Asia, I was apprehensive at first, but I found it to be an enchanting place. I wouldn’t call it a vacation as it was a battle against the elements: heat, rain, malaria, food poisoning, etc. But there is beauty everywhere if you choose to see it, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. As the key principle of the Toyota Production principle goes: Genchi Genbutsu, which means “Go and see for yourself”. And who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself along the way, too.

Throughout my childhood, no one had my back. This adventure has taught me that I’ve got my own back, that the world’s got my back…and that I’m kind of a badass.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this. It means more than you know. I hope you found it helpful in some way(s), but if not, at least you know a little more about me now, so I thank you, again.

One people, one world, one…

Love,
Julia

“We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.” – Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture

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Joshua Tree National Park

It was two days after Christmas and 70 degrees Fahrenheit at Joshua Tree National Park. A clear azure sky and not a single cloud in sight. SPF 50 on our skin. A thin layer of sweat on our backs. While parts of the country were buried in snow, we were spending it wishing we were in shorts and t-shirts.

I used to feel really guilty when my colleagues in the Northeast would complain about slushy streets and snow storms while I enjoyed our temperate climate. But I’ve learned to accept it with a smile and a shrug. There are bad things about California (hello, fire and earthquakes!) but our winter is not one of them. Unfortunately, that’s not a secret. Snowbirds and out-of-staters have been flocking to the desert cities for years. Within the last ten years, Joshua Tree has become a popular destination. VERY popular in peak seasons. We were there during the kids’ winter break and there was a line of cars into the park. And a line of cars looking for parking in the filled up parking lot. But was it still worth it? Yes. Would we do it again? Double yes.

Where is Joshua Tree National Park?

It is where the Mojave and the Colorado deserts meet, with the western half being the Mojave and the eastern half the Colorado. Situated about an hour from Palm Springs, 2 1/2 hours from San Diego and Los Angeles, it is a short ride away to another world. 790,636 acres of it. On a map, the area is shaped like the Beatles Yellow Submarine. The northwest quadrant near the town of Joshua Tree is where the majority of the campgrounds and hiking trails are. Near the southern entrance is the oasis of Cottonwood Spring. The easternmost section of the park is roadless wilderness.

How to get there?

We took I-10 East until we approached a farm of wind turbines standing like futuristic sculptures against mountains that shot straight up into the sky.  Then we exited CA-62 toward 29 Palms/Yucca Valley. From there it was 27 miles to the town of Joshua Tree and the park entrance. The CA-62 took us through the cities of Desert Hot Springs, Morongo Valley, and Yucca Valley where chain restaurants, grocery stores, residential neighborhoods, and tattoo parlors blended together in the golden light of the desert. There is a visitor center at the mouth of the entrance where you can stop for restroom, souvenirs, and coffee. There is another entrance to the south of the park off the I-10 at Cottonwood Spring, 25 miles east of Indio.

What’s its draw?

Joshua Tree National Park is one of 400 parks in the U.S. National Park System. My children called it an amusement park. These are the same children who do not like Disneyland so it’s not quite a verbatim analogy. But the amazing rock formations and the Joshua trees the park is named after that look as if straight from a Dr. Seuss book are a sight to behold.

Photographers will not be disappointed here.  From the Joshua trees that look like a Medusa with multiple spiky heads and cholla cacti with pale prickles that glow in the sun to rocks that look like a gnome in a wizard robe, it’s hard to take a bad picture of the photogenic landscape.

Rock climbers come here gear jangling to get the adrenaline rush from scaling up the rocks that stack on the earth like Lego pieces some giants had forgotten to put away. Crash pads on their backs. Coils of colorful ropes attached to their REI backpacks. Sunglasses to protect their determined eyes. Watch out!

Stargazing is also a popular activity. Choose campgrounds away from the light pollution of the city to maximize your stargazing experience. The best are in the central and southern parts of the park. The Joshua Tree National Park Service website lists Cottonwood Campground on the southern end as having the darkest skies.

Birdwatchers can be found with binoculars hung around their necks. It being winter and teaming with humans, the only birds we saw were the cactus wrens who were hoping we drop food from our picnic table.

Is it family-friendly?

Yes! My kids had a blast discovering the nooks and crannies hidden between the rocks. They pretended to be explorers, the first to discover secret hiding places within the park. They squeezed through tiny spaces between rocks to rooms that they named ‘meeting room’,  ‘squeeze room’, ‘resting room’, and ‘hard room’. Not very imaginative names, but it is a place where their imagination can run wild.

We explored the Hidden Valley trail, a loop that goes around a picturesque basin-shaped valley teaming with beautiful cacti, Joshua trees, rock formations, and pinyon pines. The one-hour trail was level in most places, with a few climbs over rock steps. It offered opportunities for our kids to climb boulders and dead logs, and meander around in a relatively safe environment. We passed women in flip-flops, toddlers toddling along, and fathers with children on their shoulders. It was not much harder than our usual walk around our neighborhood. Because it is an easy hike and a holiday week, it was quite busy. There were times we had to make room and wait for people to pass through the path.

There are other trails more vigorous and less populous. Here’s where you can see a list of 16 incredible hikes through the park. Even with its popularity,  I would do the Hidden Valley trail again. Some of our family members have been there when they had the place to themselves. We just need to avoid weekends and long holiday breaks.

Joshua Tree National Park is a not-so-secret spot on the map in the desert. It will only become busier over time. But it is a wondrous destination that is worth setting a special visit in the middle of the week for. Maybe for your next mental health day?

 

 

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Waterworld: Ecotourism in Thailand

A story about how a little village in Thailand is using ecotourism to raise itself from the mud and teach people to save the environment.

Ban Khun Samut Jeen is a village on stilts in Samut Prakan Province, Thailand. It reminds me a bit of the movie Waterworld, a 1995 film starring Kevin Costner about a post-apocalyptic world underwater. Due to global warming and erosion, a large part of the village was completely wiped off the map. To keep their plight on the map, the villagers promote ecotourism through their Homestay. A part of the profit helps support programs that combat erosion and educate people on how to save the environment.

    

Their Homestay was a great deal. For the price of 600 baht ($18) per adult a night, you get lodging, three delicious authentic Thai meals, and a learning experience. Even though it is only 19 kilometers from chaotic Bangkok, it feels as if you are a world away. Located where the Chao Phraya River meets the Gulf of Thailand, it is accessible only by boat. It was not the easiest place to get to. But it was well worth the trip.

To get there, we used the toll road from Bangkok to Samut Prakan. We followed directions to Pa Ree Port, “ท่าเรือป้ารี่”. (GPS coordinate 13.550067, 100.531123). We got there at dusk and parked the car overnight for 100 baht ($3). Across the parking space is the port where we hired a longtail boat to Ban Khun Samut Jeen port, “ท่าเรือบ้านขุนสมุทรจีน(บ้านผู้ใหญ่สมร)”. For our entire group, it cost only 150 baht ($4.50).

We raced along green tea-color waterways for 15 minutes and reached the port by nightfall. Our adventure did not end there. The port is about a 10-minute walk away from our destination. We dragged our suitcases on a raised dirt embankment flanked by water on each side (note: only bring backpacks next time). The darkness around us did not help. Along the way, we heard splashing and gurgling sounds from the water. Thankfully we had strong flashlights to light to way.

We arrived tired and hungry at Ban Khun Samut Jeen Homestay. The owner, Puyai Samorn, was not expecting us. It was completely our fault we did not call from Bangkok to confirm and had arrived so late they had thought we canceled (note: always call to confirm our stay next time). They scrambled to cook us dinner and set up a hut for us. It is a beautiful wood structure with thatch roof built on stilts over the water. Wood plank walkways guarded by friendly dogs connect it to the main building, restrooms, and other huts.

The traditional Thai meal served was amazing: deep-fried shrimps and fish,  steamed crab and clams, sour soup with seafood,  and Thai omelet (sorry, no pictures because we were too hungry). After we filled stomachs to the brim, we retired to sleep under mosquito nets on pads on the hardwood floor. It was not a 5-star place but it was authentic, which, to me, beats luxury on most days. 

In the morning we woke up to the sun rising over the Gulf and a delicious breakfast of shrimp rice soup. Our guide came to pick us up with a full itinerary (also included in the price). He was there to give us an education on the village and what they are doing to promote ecotourism.

He took us to plant mangrove trees along the coastline, a project started by the villagers to help with erosion. They had also built sea walls to keep the entire village from being swallowed by the Gulf. Because they did not receive enough government help, they had to raise money from corporations and fundraisers to build them. The walls and the mangroves have been the most effective ways of slowing down land loss.

We also visited a Buddhist temple in the middle of the ocean and accessible only by a long bridge. It was once partly under water. Now it sits lonely on an island. People had to excavate it out of the muddy water after they built the sea wall. Evidence of water damage is in the peeled walls and raised wood plank floors.

Among the amazing sea life we saw were fiddler crabs and mudskippers, fishes that could glide around on their fins. As we looked out toward the Gulf, our guide pointed at the poles sticking up in places. “These were utility poles. During low tide, sometimes you can see roofs of homes, hospital, and school that are underwater,” he said. 

After, he took us on a walk around the village (what’s left of it). There were a cute elementary school and wood homes nestled among mangrove trees. Along a part of the beautiful paths were plastic bags and bottles – trash from Bangkok washed downstream into this coastal village. I asked about recycling and trash collection. The guide replied sadly that no matter how often they picked up the trash there would be more. Being so close to a major city, it is a receptacle of things carried by the river. It has to start at the source.

After a delicious seafood lunch, we bid farewell to the wonderful people and friendly dogs. Ban Khun Samut Jeen is one of the most special places we have visited. It is a hidden gem that is both a cautionary tale and a hope. It has suffered at the hands of humans – by our reckless behaviors and series of bad decisions. If we can save it, then it would prove that what humans damage we can also fix. It is not too late.

To contact the Homestay, send a message through their Facebook page.

 For more stories on ecotourism, please click here.
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How to save Sapa and places like it

Sapa, Vietnam. Why should we care to save it? The gorgeous valley of fertile land where bubbling brooks empty into waterfalls and a perpetual fog covers the tip of majestic mountains, is home to many hill tribes like the Black Hmong, Red Dzao, Tay, Giáy, Thai and Phù Lá. Their culture and languages are different from those of the Vietnamese. There is also a long history of the Vietnamese government marginalizing and segregating the tribes. If Sapa were a woman she would be a beautiful middle-age, scarred by her battle with the world.

When outsiders enter a place, regardless of intention, there’s a wide ripple effect that can destroy the innocence of its residents. Here, an entire generation is being raised to service the tourist industry. Everything that once existed for a utilitarian purpose now exists for entertainment – a zoo of artifacts and people.

I wonder if we were also entertainment. To hear the native young tribal women mimic an American, an Australian, or a British accent was a glimpse into the education vital for them to work in the industry and make the money the economy here has come to rely on. Farming is hard work. Joblessness is prevalent. Is it just a matter of time when rice fields would exist only as props?

It’s hard to not feel guilty being here with our Western mannerism and money and the carefully constructed life we carry on our backs. We look and we hear but we will never understand. There is a line drawn between the two sides: invaders and invaded. As time passes the line gets darker and more difficult to erase.

Our wonderful guide from Sapa Sisters, Giao, did her best to represent her home. Yet I got the sense that she mourned the Sapa she once knew as she looked wistfully at the landscape. Our night at the home of a Black Hmong family after a full day hike through the verdant hills and rice fields was probably the closest to an authentic experience we had here. We helped make a dish of young bamboo shoots with eggs for dinner and slept under mosquito netting in a room lined with hard mattresses on the floor.

As I lay awake listening to the karaoke singing from the next door guest house filled with Vietnamese tourists, I wondered what Sapa was like before outsiders had found it. Its only sin was being beautiful and we all pay the price for having destroyed it.

There are hundreds of Sapas in the world – a once paradise wrecked by tourism. It is one of the reasons why writing about traveling is a double-edged sword. So, what can outsiders do to minimize our negative impact on the places we visit?

  • Do not buy from children

I realize this sounds harsh and heartless. How can we not support the beautiful, innocent children? Well, the reason you see children selling tour books, handicraft, or trinkets on the sides of the road is because people buy from them. By doing so, you are perpetuating this trend. Children should be in school. They should be playing with other children. They should not be shouldering the responsibilities that belong to adults.

What you can do to help:

Ask locals or your guide if there is a school around. Schools in southeast Asia, or under-developed parts of the world, often do not run on government funding. Offer to buy raw rice or school supplies to donate to the schools.

  • Minimize trash and take out what you bring in

Wherever humans go, we bring trash. It’s in the plastic bottled water, the food wrappers, the plastic bags. Along the hiking trails, I saw debris of litter left by people passing through. In a city, there would be someone whose job is to pick up the trash, put them in a trashcan, and dispose of them in a landfill. But in a remote place far away from that convenience, where does the trash go? Along the road, of course.

What you can do to help:

Bring in reusable water bottles and bags. Be mindful of what you consume and how you consume them. Pack in the trash you brought in and dispose of them once you’re back in the city. If you have more time, consider volunteering to pick up trash.

  • Support local businesses

From speaking to our guide who belongs to the Black H’mong tribe, I learned a few things. Here, many wealthy Vietnamese invested in building hotels and resorts and selling ‘authentic’ hill tribe experiences to tourists. These businesses often use Vietnamese who moved from other parts of Vietnam. The money tourists spend on these businesses don’t often stay local nor is used to help the hill tribes. While it may be convenient and comforting to stay at resorts or big hotels, eat at chain restaurants or coffee shops, it doesn’t help. Supporting local businesses like a homestay, a tea house, or an herbal bathhouse run by members of a  hill tribe will allow the money to stay there and be used to better the community.

What you can do to help:

Support businesses that employ minority ethnic tribal members. Sapa Sisters and Ethos Spirit are two of the businesses that are committed to helping local hill tribes by employing their members as guides. They would also be great resources to help you plan your trip in the most responsible way you can.

 

What are some of the places you have visited that left a lasting impression (either good or bad) on you?