The Middle East - A Whirlwind Tour

This is my first blog entry in a while. Last time I posted, I was getting ready to start the Middle Eastern portion of my adventure. Since then, I briefly stopped by Dubai and spent time with Shadi, Nick, Sham, and Deni, two I knew from Indian yoga and two I met through them. One of the best parts of this trip is the people I've met. Ok, so it's really the best part.

(Wish I had a picture with Sham and Deni to upload, but technology isn't my friend right now)

After Dubai, I spent about 2 weeks in Jordan. The food in Amman was fantastic. The ruins at Petra were everything I hoped they would be, and more. Not to mention I was lucky to have such great company. I've traveled alone for almost the whole trip, but having friends to explore new areas with makes the adventure even more meaningful.

After Jordan, Juio and I took a short 2-day trip into the Palestinian Territories, specifically the West Bank. As I mentioned on Facebook, the people we met were the nicest I've met on my entire trip. We took local transportation from East Jerusalem, got lost a few times, but people were so friendly and always guided us along with the best intentions.

(Julio and I in a Palestinian internet cafe, trying to locate the hostel)

We spent time in the city of Ramallah as well as a small town called Taybeh, the home of the only Palestinian brewery. The woman who runs the place now is actually from Boston - still a US citizen, though her Palestinian heritage bars her from enterring Israel without obtaining a written permit - per Israeli law - which is difficult to get. Unlike almost anywhere else in the world, in Israel her US passport means nothing, simply because of her ethnic background.

After 2 short days in Jerusalem, Julio took off for home and I moved on to Turkey. It was great. With close friends Greg, Sandeep, and Debbie, I saw the Blue Mosque and Ayasofia, as well as other lesser-known attractions (Who could forget the Tardis Cafe?)

Sandeep and I spent a week or so trekking, camping, and playing on ancient ruins in Southern Turkey along the Lycian Way. We walked on top of ancient Roman buildings and columns, which would have been behind glass in a museum if they were in the USA.

After 3 weeks in Turkey, I flew to Tel Aviv. For me, this is where things got both more challenging and meaningful. I was conscious of fighting an internal battle with myself, because part of me simply didn't want to like Israel. If you pay attention to my Facebook feed, you'll remember the struggle I had with Israeli security in the airport before flying to Turkey. A short summary, I got interrogated 4 times before even making it to security, at which point I was detained for an hour and strip-searched. They didn't answer my questions as to why I was being detained, during or after the experience. It was for "security reasons" was all they said.

In addition to this experience, for as long as I can remember, I've sympathized with the Palestinian people as victims of ethnic cleansing (by definition) at the hands of the Israeli government. A lot of this comes from my background in human rights studies and, in particular, a focus on genocide and related crimes against humanity. Most of my previous academic work relates to these issues, and I take a very critical perspective against the perpetrator governments.

Not surprisingly, when I arrived, I viewed Tel Aviv with some resentment. Which might sound funny if you flew straight here and Tel Aviv is all you saw. It is a small San Diego, in my view. It has a beautiful beach that runs the entire length of the city (and beyond). The weather is sunny and in the high 70s. The people are very friendly. The culture is very open in that you can have tattoos, crazy hair styles, PDA, and women wearing bathing suits in public and no one bats an eyelash. This is a big positive change from everywhere else I've been in the past 7+ months. It reminds me a lot of the West Coast mentality. Everyone is having fun on the beach or drinking in bars and nightclubs.

The thing is, it would be easy to visit or even live in this environment and be completely ignorant of what's happening just a few miles away (Israel is a VERY small place) at the checkpoints or in the West Bank or Gaza. You do see the soldiers, everywhere. Many of them carry weapons. This shocked me at first, but even I've become used to it already, as just another normal part of life here. Even after my interrogations, I don't fear them, because it really does seem so natural now. I can imagine that for Israelis it's even more true, especially since they all have served or will serve - military service is oligatory. My point is, I'm not sure the presence of the military makes the realities of what's happening in Palestine any more real for civilians. The other thing people have mentioned, that would bring these realities close to home, are bombings. These have happened in Tel Aviv. The most recent one I can find happened in 2012, when a bus was bomed, killing 11 people. Not living here, it's impossible to imagine what effect that would have on a person's psyche and view of the conflict.

Arriving and seeing the opulence in which people live in Tel Aviv, as compared to my experience in the Palestinian Territories, made me feel guilty. I didn't want to enjoy all this because I knew it was made possible by the oppression of an entire ethnicity of people. It felt wrong. And then it made me angry. It was frustrating to see life carried on "as normal" at the expense of people so close by; and that so many people were seemingly ignorant of it.

In my conversations with Israelis about these issues, it's rare to find anyone who truly empathizes with the Palestinian people. I've met a couple who have worked toward peace through various means, doing activities that are truly inspiring, though they are few and far between.

(These are a couple pictures of guys I met who are trying to set up free WiFi in refugee areas in Tel Aviv. At least one of them has also participated in dialogues with Palestinians to figure out peaceful means of moving forward)

But most who I met are openly racist against Arabs, assume Palestinians would love to see an Israeli dead, and are likely to decieve or kidnap you at the first chance. To be clear, I'm not making this up or exagerrating, these exact sentiments were communicated to me directly in at least two conversations so far. Others were less proud of their racism, didn't have the same fear of kidnapping, etc.

Many also buy into what I think of as the "Republican" mindset. Many Israelis believe that Palestinians have been given just as much opportunity as they were since 1948, they just haven't used it as well. They need to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps," as the Israelis have done. One man (incorrectly) told me that Palestine receives the most aid world-wide, they just don't use it in the right ways. An older woman didn't like how some Arabs in Israel still speak Arabic amongst themselves.

And that is what strikes me as one of the biggest issues here. Many Israelis I've met and talked to about these issues seem incredibly ignorant of the facts. Only two of them had ever even been to the Palestinian Territories:  One for a summer beer festival at the brewery I mentioned (done despite an Israeli-government imposed ban on Israelis enterring particular areas of Palestine) and the second during military service. In other words, most have very strong opinions about Palestinians and their plight based simply on what they see in the media, rather than from direct experience. And who can blame them, when the government places signs around the checkpoints which say you risk death by enterring, if you are an Israeli.

I was surprised how angry I got about all this. I wanted to enjoy the beautiful place in front of me, but found it difficult given what I had previously seen and learned. I started looking more deeply into my feelings about it and realized something interesting. This guilt and anger, stemming from gaining oppulence by oppressing a group of people, wasn't new. It's something I've been a part of in the USA since birth. I owe my relative wealth of land, income, style of life, etc. to the genocide of the Native American population, the crime of slavery and continual abuse of African-Americans through the American political and economic system, and countless individuals the world-over who have suffered and continue to suffer so that I can buy an iPhone and wear particular types of clothing. It's ongoing. It's just not as obvious to us Americans because it's typically far away, we don't get bombed (often) for it, and we choose not to think of it in these terms. We live with a sense of entitlement to what we feel we've earned (again, the Republican attitude of boostraps), ignoring the underlying realities that support the self-gratifying monument we've built to ourselves.

Ultimately, I think we ignore these realities because they implictly impose a heavy burden. If we accepted this knowledge, we might feel compelled to act to repair these injustices, which would necessitate a loss in some level of comfort or power which we currently enjoy. So we stick with being willfully ignorant, because it's easy. To be clear, I don't blame the average Israeli for this anymore than the average American for something similar. This isn't an issue of individuals as much as it is a systemic problem, something that needs to be addressed on larger levels.

That is my rant. It represents journal entries I've been writing since arrival. Currently, I've been enjoying the country and it's beauty, but am also mentally putting things in perspective by not allowing myself to forget how it is all made possible.

6 Months in Asia - A Summary

I'm about to conclude a full six months of traveling in Asia - Nepal, India, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. The cliche is that time flies when you're having fun. Well, it feels like it's been six months. But that's definitely not for lack of fun. It's just so much. There have been so many experiences in this relatively short amount of time that I easily forget even events that were life-changing at the time. I'm chilling in Ho Chi Minh City for a day while I wait for my flight to Dubai, so I thought this would be a good time to take stock of where I've been and how far I've come. I keep a detailed journal, but I rarely go back and read it. What follows are several highlights from my journey so far, as well as some thoughts now that there's some distance between me and the events.

The first big event of my trip, and one I still think about often, was the vipassana meditation retreat in Kathmandu. There is a week-long gap in my journal here. All I have regarding those several days is in another blog entry. In retrospect, after some time in India, and some conversations with friends more familiar than myself with that culture, I'm convinced that whole fiasco with being denied leave was a big cultural misunderstanding. To me, from where I was coming from, they were denying my freedom of movement by withholding my money, passport, and luggage, which is a big deal in 'Murica. I later learned they were being so insistent that I stay because they strongly believe I could be seriously harmed psychologically by leaving mid-program. Meditating so long each day puts you in a vulnerable state, and they wanted to make sure I was taken care of. Admittedly, there were flaws since a couple workers were emotionally abusive in their attempt to make me stay. But humans have flaws. Despite that, I plan on giving the program another shot as soon as I can. It's a challenge I really want to succeed at. If 3-4 days could have such a strong impact on my view on life, I can't wait to experience the full 10.

I'm convinced that the two best things in the world are: 1. Love, and 2. Riding motorcycles on backroads in foreign countries.

Can't forget about Annapurna!

During the first couple months, I really struggled with giving up a few heavily conditioned habits or states of mind. I was still in the school/research mindset, so I spent some time doing some readings related to all that, and took notes, brainstorming what I wanted to do when I got back. There was a lot of stress about not being good enough for the program, planning to work my ass off when I returned. It took a long time to get over those artificial plans and perceived expectations. I'm still a bit anxious about what returning will be like, but I'm less concerned now. All these experiences have given me some perspective. There's a lot more to life than getting a PhD, publishing articles and getting tenure. I've met so many people who just teach English abroad and travel all the time. That life looks a lot more appealing than it used to. I'm privileged to know that will always be an option, for any of us really. We are incredibly lucky to have things so easy. If you don't believe me, visit India.

India. It's a toss up between India and Nepal for my favorite country. But I lean towards India, mainly because of the sheer rawness I was forced to confront. You are a target because you're white. You are a walking $. Get used to it fast, and become comfortable with being uncomfortable. Scams left and right. You experience all types of persuasion and coercion. Walk with purpose and don't look anyone in the eye you don't want following you for the next several blocks. I'm speaking of the areas Westerners frequent. There were some great places away from the tourist circuit where people were genuine.

Rawness. One thing I really wanted to see in India was the Hindu tradition of burning dead bodies, right on the Ganges River. It may sound morbid, but I'm not sure there's anything more profound or more humbling than watching a human body - which a day ago exhibited life and contained a soul - slowly disintegrate into ash. "From dust we came and to dust we shall return." We spend so much time denying death; maybe not consciously, but in all the small actions we take during a day. We live without awareness of our own mortality. Watching everything that person ever was being consumed in flame reminded me that I will go the same way some day. As the Buddha said on his death bed, "All the constituents of being are transitory; work out your salvation with diligence." Life and death - and the in between - are so present in India. Everything is considered, nothing denied; everything is celebrated.

My month long yoga teacher's retreat was in India, but it was a bubble. I'm very happy with what I learned, though it only fueled my desire to learn more. I've learned enough to know how ignorant I am. I need a lot more practice before I teach yoga professionally, if I ever decide to do that. I'm excited to get back and compare what I've learned to more Western practices. I still think (generally) US yoga is often addressing superficial issues and needs to go deeper. That's not a judgmental statement, but rather is based on knowledge of how much more satisfied we can be with ourselves the further we explore the practice.

September 30:  The first (but not the last) night I dreamed of Chipotle burritos.

Reading Walt Whitman on sand dunes behind a slum, overlooking the city of Jaipur.

I found out my grandma passed away while I was in India. To some extent, it still doesn't feel real. We had become more distant over the years, mainly because of me living far away, traveling, and not calling as much as I should have, not being as open as I could have been. I was in a place where I could pray for her in my own way, when I found out. I can't imagine what it will be like to come home and her not be in her house, or at our family gatherings. Watching an anonymous body burn on a funeral pyre in India is one thing; it's accepting the deaths of those close to us that is the real challenge. Life goes on, but it's not the same. Change is the only constant, and we just have to be joyful for what we have been given and move forward doing our best to share as much love with others as we can in the short time we have.

"I was married to a state of mind and I divorced it."

When I get back to Seattle, instead of going out, one night every week or two I want to spend the money we would have spent on beer on kiva.org. we give microloans to entrepreneurs in developing countries rather than getting buzzed.

"I find that somehow by shifting the focus of attention I become the very thing I look at... I call this capacity of entering other focal points of consciousness love."

Throughout the whole trip - reflecting my life thus far - love and desire were always on the forefront of my mind. Something about being in constant awe of my surroundings and experiences translates to a passion for sharing that feeling with another person. I've wanted to share the profundity of it all with a partner. Traveling alone can be tough. It has also led to insecurity in this area, and grasping rather than freely giving and accepting what is given. Attachment is the near cousin to love, but not one you want around for long. There have been a couple rough spots along the way. One of the liberating but also harsh realities of travel is learning a lot more about yourself, and about others. Sometimes things don't work out. But if there's one thing this trip has taught me, it's that perhaps our greatest purpose in life is to constantly die to our current self and be reborn into new, enlightened understanding. In other words, we suffer so that we can observe the nature of our suffering and learn from it, and then grow. I've still got a lot of growing to do, but I feel I'm headed in the right direction.

After India, Thailand might as well have been the US. It had every luxury I could have wanted, had I wanted it. I took the opportunity to do a couple things I didn't think I would have had the chance to do before I started the trip. I lifted weights and did some rock climbing, two things I do a lot back home. I had lost about 20lbs, and that bothered me. I didn't realize until then how much I cared about my own body image. It was unnerving and I realized it was a problem, but I did it anyway. I'm more ok with it now, and I'm the thinnest and physically weakest I've been since high school. There's something liberating about watching something you've cared about for so long slowly waste away, and not be able to or care enough anymore to try and change it. It's made me question how I define myself and what I consider important in my life.

It's true:  the universe provides everything exactly when you need it, provided you're willing to open your eyes. Sometimes it comes as a stolen and then returned bag of valuables, sometimes in a friend who teaches you a valuable lesson, and sometimes in a friend to whom you can be of value. Chiang Mai was all of these things, and more. Looking at you, Mike and Smita!

"Throw yourself from comfort into experience so that you can find yourself again."

Of course, it was wonderful to get to see my parents after several months of travel. And it was great to see them have a fun time exploring a new culture (though my mom had done some business in Thailand before).

I mentioned in a previous entry my scuba experience. I didn't complete the training, mainly because I had a scare at about 30ft underwater and after that, couldn't bring myself to take off my mask and oxygen at 40ft as part of the training. I've always loved swimming and never had a fear of drowning. After that, I can tell I've become more conscious of my breathing, a little afraid of doing scuba again (though I want to), and even a little claustrophobic. Hopefully that won't last.

Played some pick-up bball in Bangkok with random Thai guys I met. I happened to be walking by and started watching, they asked if I wanted to join. Turns out, Chaco sandals are not the best athletic equipment for agility and jumping. Sorry America, I let you down.

The Killing Fields of Cambodia and the remnants of the Vietnam War here in Vietnam hit me pretty hard. I'm lucky to say I don't personally know anyone I'm close to who has suffered through either, but seeing the results of both was still incredibly challenging. I'm not sure I'll ever really understand how people can be ok subjecting others to such terrible suffering. I don't think anyone would, if they really knew what it felt like themselves. I considered myself relatively pacifistic before, and now that's even more so.

"Whatever a person frequently thinks and reflects on, that will become the inclination of their mind."

Well, that was Asia in a nutshell. I covered 142 pages in my journal, about 50 are left to fill. Shouldn't be hard. I'm excited to say my best childhood friends are coming to visit when I'm in Jordan and Turkey. It's the first time we've ever traveled together outside of Indiana and Chicago. Should be interesting :-)

Turning mass violence into profit

In the past two weeks, I've visited two sites where mass violence has taken place. First, the Killing Fields of Cambodia and the related Genocide Museum (Khmer Rouge violence). Second, the Cuchi Tunnels (where much violence happened during the Vietnam War) here near Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), Vietnam. The two had very different effects on me, specifically on account of how they were presented. In particular, I came back today from the Cuchi Tunnels extremely frustrated by what seemed to me as exploitation and misrepresentation of history, in a way that does an extreme disservice to the people involved.

The Killing Fields had an underlying narrative, a purpose to showing the sites of mass graves, of the terrible violence that occurred. It acknowledged the pain and suffering of those who died in the genocide, as well as those who survived to live torn lives. Repeating the slogan you'll hear if you go to any Holocaust museum, concentration camp, or other similar sites of mass violence, this site declared "Never Again." Never again should anything like this occur. And educating the world-wide public, through tourism, is one way to prevent future genocide and mass violence.

On the other hand, my experience of the guided Cuchi Tunnels tour was one which not only had no underlying narrative - no greater purpose to being in this place that echoed such recent, terrible memories - but seemed to glorify and even promote the type of violence that had occurred here nearly 40 years ago. Rather than providing an educational experience that could encourage us to learn about a topic many of us know little about (we really learn squat in the US about the Vietnam War), the tour encouraged us to laugh at men having their legs blown off by bombs fitted into empty Coke cans, they sold necklaces with empty bullet cartridges used in local battles, and even offered us the chance to shoot AK-47s, high caliber machine guns, and basically any gun of your choosing that was used in the conflict - at a price.

At this site, about 1/3 of the way through a tour of tunnels where countless soldiers on either side were burned alive, buried alive, impaled by bamboo sticks, shot full of bullets, or killed in various other ways, we were offered the chance - by excited Vietnamese workers - to fire the same guns which killed these people. And yes, quite a few tourists were excited to give it a go. I felt sick, incredibly disgusted, and pissed off. I still don't understand how you could be learning about the horrors of war, seeing the realities of the painful deaths people experienced, and then pick up a gun and shoot it for fun on the same ground.

But that's what was morbidly fascinating about this location, about the way these tours are conducted. The realities of what occurred are completely separated from your experience as a tourist. You don't learn any of the history here, or get any personal stories about individuals who suffered or died. You just see the "cool," terrifying traps the soldiers used to ambush the enemy; take a crawl through the underground tunnels where you know terrible events took place, but you aren't told what; or pose in front of a broken down US tank, whose occupants' bodies probably still lie somewhere nearby.

So, somewhat out of spite, but also out of a fascination of how people could be so unthinkingly inhuman, I started taking pictures of other tourists' smiling poses in front of real torture machines, weapons that have ended many lives, and sites which indicate the difficult experiences of the people who once were here.

Here, we crowd around a small hole, an entrance to the vast underground network of tunnels which the Vietnamese guerrillas used as homes, shelter from US bombs, and ambush points. The atmosphere was jovial as nearly half of these people got in to have a smiling (or faux "scared") expression for a photo which will surely then be shared on Facebook as "look at the fun time I had in Vietnam!" Jokes were made about an overweight guy who wouldn't be able to fit.

Here, most of the group took their turn getting individual and group pictures in front of a broken down US tank, smiles all around. Nothing was said about why it was here, who once occupied it, etc.

And here, close to a dozen people were in line to go shoot some guns. Smiling and laughing at the opportunity to do something so unique.

Yet here, amid the sounds of nearby gunfire, a young child cries loudly and persistently. In my opinion, he was one of the few sane people present.

This may be one big rant, but I'm having some trouble with bigger issues here. It may be wrong of me to come here and just straight up say, "What you Vietnamese are doing here, in your own country, with your own history, is plain wrong." Incredibly condescending, not to mention potentially colonialist when viewed from particular lenses. What surprised me is how OK the Vietnamese here were with all this. Obviously, since they run the place. My own guide was a soldier who fought and was shot twice - he showed us the wounds to prove it. Yet here he was, guiding us around without any contextualization for what we were seeing. And he's been doing this for 23 years.

Things get complicated because of stories like his. After the war, Vietnam was not in a good place socially or economically. It was hard to find work, and therefore hard to feed yourself and your family. My guide became a barber for 10 years, before this site opened up and he became a guide. He said he earns more $ in a day here than in a month as a barber. And that's a trend - they do it for the $. Can you blame them? If there is a demand for something, they'll supply it. Especially when it's from Westerners who have a ton of $ to throw around, and they do. Even if it means selling bullets and allowing us to shoot the very guns used to kill their friends and family. While many American Vietnam vets experience PTSD and try to separate themselves from these types of memories, here is this guy purposefully immersing himself in it. I genuinely wonder how much of it is for him - for his own personal goals - and how much is driven by money.

Ultimately, I don't know what this says about the Vietnamese involved. It's impossible for me to judge without coming from their perspective, which I just don't know. But I think it says something about us, about tourist culture. Some of it is absolutely sick. It's sick because we often go to these places in complete ignorance of the context. Either we just don't care enough to learn, or we know and don't care.

I've seen this all over Asia, with tourists paying to get in cages with medically sedated and abused elephants and tigers, paying to feed live ducks and other animals to crocodiles at a shoddy "zoo," to those in Cambodia paying quite a bit of money to blow up a live cow with an RPG. No shit, that actually happens - I know a guy who did it, and said immediately afterwards it was a huge mistake. Apparently they completely disintegrate. I'm not even going to touch sex tourism, which is so ubiquitous here it's become normal. People just don't care enough to not be purposefully ignorant of the consequences of their actions. It's incredibly disheartening.

I wonder if all this is why this dude is on his fifth beer before noon?

Phnom Penh: A City of Contrasts

I've been in Cambodia for all of 3 days, but in that short time, the place has already made a strong impression on me. So far, Cambodia seems like a mix between India and Thailand. It has both strong Hindu and Buddhist influences. Red robe-clad Buddhist monks walk alongside Hindu iconography that decorates the ubiquitous ornate temples. Phnom Penh has India's poverty, it's tuk-tuk drivers and peddlers who constantly harass. But it also has Thailand's friendliness, inside and outside the tourist districts.

What strikes me most is the apparent gap between the rich and the poor. The condition of destitute poverty is mainly due to Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge, and the genocide that took place from 1975-1979. During this period, the government was replaced with a "communist" dictatorship, which behaved like Hitler's Germany, Mao's China, and Stalin's Soviet Union. Civilians were killed for the most minute "violations": opposing government policies, not obeying new laws, being educated, being from the city, wearing glasses, or being a family member of someone who fits in any of these categories. They were killed with guns, machetes, garden hoes, sharp sticks, ore by being buried alive. Because of this, today you will see very few people over the age of 30 or 40. If they are, usually they are missing limbs. And they certainly carry the burden of terrible stories.

Yesterday, I visited the "Killing Fields," which is really just one of the many places where civilians were brought to be slaughtered, believing they were just being moved to new homes. Here, you navigate your way around dozens of mass graves, most dug up to give more respectable burials. However, every year the rains wash up new bone fragments and strips of clothing. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of human skulls that have been found form a memorial to the dead. They are stacked on top of each other, reaching 17 levels, about 3-4 stories tall. These have all been collected and placed on display, acting as yet another reminder to future socoeites: "Never Again."

During my B.A. and Master's research, I examined different episodes of mass violence and genocide all over the world, and Pol Pot's regime was one. But having studied it all academically, I still wasn't prepared for the raw emotion that wells up, seeing bone fragments sticking out of the ground, still uncovered, evidence of such immense tragedy, so recent. What floored me most was seeing a particular tree that had a terrible history. (Warning:  The rest of this paragraph is very graphic). It stands next to a mass grave and women, children, and babies. When the camp was first discovered, people were puzzled by the fragments of bone, dried blood, and hair they found all over this tree. It turns out, the tree was used to kill babies. They would swing them by their legs and bash their heads over the bark, then toss them into the mass grave, only after which their mothers would follow. I feel filthy just typing this out. Some things about human nature are just incomprehensible.

Flash forward to Cambodia, today. Society is still recovering from this stone age barbarism. There are many homeless wandering around, sleeping in the streets. Many, maybe most, are young children. They beg for money and food. They now also sell cheap bracelets, perhaps in response to a new trend of foreigners not giving money after reading this advice in guide books, which says this only perpetuates the problem, makes begging an option, supposedly discouraging them from making a living working. Then again, I have my doubts about their job opportunities. Still not sure where I stand on this one.

There have been violent protests (mostly police brutality) in Cambodia recently, where grament workers are protesting against bad working conditions and the corruption and inequality that make it was it is. Yesterday morning I stepped outside my hostel door, straight into about 1,000 fully armored Cambodian military police, ready for a scheduled demonstration. I've never seen such a display of force. I actively sought out protests in Thailand, but this one was different. I didn't want to be anywhere near there when the batons started swinging and the gas went out.

Contrast all this desparation and poverty with a rich class which drives around in $100,000+ cars. Land Rovers are more common here than on Syracuse campus, which is saying a lot. They're everywhere. So are Lexuses, luxury cars, and, inexplicably, Priuses. I've heard tales of rich Cambodians going to bars with body guards and picking fights with tourists, for the fun of it. There is some serious hostility here, though I have a hard time figuring out drawing any firm lines to classify it, beyond the obvious economic inequality.

I took several pictures at the Killing Fields, and I'll post them as soon as I find a reliable computer. 

Bangkok Protests: Not What You Might Expect

First, some observations and details. Then, some thoughts.

Today was a day planned out for a while, to be the biggest protest we've seen so far. The goal is to "shut down bangkok," as you'll see on everyone's t-shirts. I bought one, too :-) (Not saying I agree). 20 major intersections - some next to government buildings - are being blocked. However, to accommodate tourists, they are actually allowing us to pass almost completely unbothered. The monorail is open in most places. Other than that, good luck getting around.

I've been walking around for a few hours, since early morning, checking out what I can see. My first impression:  This thing is MASSIVE. I've only been to 2 intersections so far (they are pretty far to walk), but both were accommodating ten thousand easy, probably multiple tens of thousands. When I say intersection, think Arc de Triumph in Paris, or the biggest roundabout you know. These are important cultural points, often monuments. And they are full. Full of people of all ages, blowing whistles and horns that might as well be vuvuzelas. With the exception of children - I have only seen a hand full.

Everyone has about 5 Thai flags on their body, in one form or another. Most are wearing t-shirts with protest slogans. There are some signs. And whistles. God. Did I mention they have whistles? Not sure if you can hear me. I can't hear me. Many are wearing camo. In and around the intersections there are hundreds of tents where people are camping out, who knows how long. People sleeping on blankets in the street, singing, playing games, smiling, and blowing whistles. The atmosphere is holiday, but there are voices coming from the stages that sound motivational. I don't speak Thai. It's ok though, I understand the whistles. Though there are many signs in English. Interesting.

Overall, I'm considering "tenting-up" and saving some money on sleeping arrangements. These people know how to have a good time. Maybe they'll give me a whistle, too.

Thoughts:

I've only been to a few protests in my life. About half of them were during my year abroad in Spain, when I was a witness rather than a participant. The other half, not including this one I'm in now, were in the US. I've studied conflict, politics, and human rights for about 8 years, but rarely haven't gotten close to the action. Part of this is due to location. Newburgh, IN and Syracuse, NY aren't exactly political hotbeds. I had to drive all the way to DC to get to one. For a lot of us, that just isn't realistic. It's hard to protest in the US. There's another reason it's hard to protest in the US:  protest generally has a negative stigma attached to it. The media normally portrays protesters as the "other," someone different from you, hard to identify with. They're extremists. Who else would skip work to stand on the street in public, yelling things at passers-by?

This happens for at least two reasons. First, sensationalizing news makes it more interesting and tv companies will get more viewers. This equates to more $ from advertisers. Which is why you see all that overblown celebrity drama on stations and websites that are considered our top news sources. Second, it's a way of keeping the status quo, of not rocking the boat. It creates the illusion of stability, a comfortable feeling that is necessary to keep us spending money, not taking our money out of banks or selling our stocks, and keeps us consuming in the American capitalist economy.

That is all to say, protest is not a part of our culture. There was an attempt to make it part of our culture in the 60s, along with other sweeping changes, but it ultimately failed. People today are not out taking to the streets like they are in other countries - all of Europe, for instance. Or the Middle East. In this way, we are actually similar to Thailand. Protest is even less acceptable in their culture than it is ours. For instance, I've heard some protesters say they are a little embarrassed to be out here, because it's not something they would normally do. But they feel this issue is so important that they are breaking social norms and doing it anyways. And I think we can learn something from them, and this situation.

Despite what you've heard in Western media, basically all of these protests are completely peaceful. As always, it is a very small group, probably as many as you can count on two hands, who are getting the attention of international media because of one or two small actions, which don't represent the protest movement at large. And, as we've learned from Occupy Wall Street incidents and similar protest groups in the US, these incidents may actually be the result of other groups impersonating protesters and causing harm, in order to make the movement look bad. These protests are more of parties than what I would typically think of when the word "protest" is thrown out - angry chanting, negative or aggressive energy, and potentially violence. Then I think about where I got that idea about protests. All the ones I've ever seen personally have been peaceful, with one exception in Spain, where a building was vandalized, but no one was attacked. Even there, they had wine and partied afterwards, in the very building they protested. That image of the violent, negative protests comes from the media. And recall, the media gains from providing a sensationalist image of anything, for its own interests. So take it with a grain of salt.

This highlights something I'm trying to take to heart, and perhaps apply to my own experiences:  protests can be fun! In fact, maybe they should be. Not only will it energize you and those around you, but you'll attract more followers who will be more open to hearing out your perspective, than if you're just yelling angry things out of a speakerphone. To clarify, there is a place for justified indignation. I'm not saying marches for Trayvon Martin should have been jovial. But perhaps some of the larger issues, such as government corruption, could benefit from this approach. It seems to be working here. 

My First (but hopefully not last) Scuba Experience

I just finished my open water scuba training, but not in the way I had hoped. I couldn't bring myself to do the last dive's required techniques. I'll start from the beginning.

The first day, we became acquainted with the gear, which was wasn't too bad. You have two regulators, or breathing apparatuses: one primary, one alternate. You've got an air and depth gauge, a tool that inflates or deflated your suit, helps you sink or float. Then of course the basics: wetsuit, air tank, goggles slippers, and snorkel. All this ends up being pretty heavy on land, but makes sense in the water.

Once we got the gear down, we practiced a few basic techniques in about 6ft water. You take your regulator out and put it back in. You let water into your goggles, then use your nose to blow it out, still under water. You take your regulator out and use someone else's alternate. We did this in crisp light blue water, swimming with tropical fish. It was a dream.

The second day we went deeper, to 12m, a little less than 40ft. I was having a ball, playing around, doing underwater flips, swimming with fish. On the first dive, the water was still a clear blue and we saw some giant underwater life, some spectacular coral. I generally feel at home in the water, at least at a shallow depth. I grew up in pools and lakes. In a way, it feels like home. It another way though, I've always been a little scared of deep water, particularly oceans. I hadn't felt any of that at this point. I was simply blown away by the natural beauty and the joy of floating into such depths as I'd never been before.

Then came the fourth dive. Same depth, different location. This is the first time the water was murky, almost like a swamp. Not much visibility. I was still having a blast. Trying to stay warm and preserve my oxygen (I get cold easily in water, and apparently I suck O2 pretty fast), but good. Then we reached 12m and it was time for a few more techniques. I was fine until the goggles, which we had to remove completely (I can't open my eyes under water without them) and put them back on, then clear the mask by blowing out with our nose. It should be a given that when giving, you can NEVER breathe in through your nose, even with the mask on. Only your mouth.

This was the biggest problem for me. I've done years of meditation now, and the opposite is what's desired. You never breathe through your mouth, because it is inefficient. Breathing through your nose helps you relax and take fewer, deeper breaths. So for instance, when you are stressed, you stop and take a few deep breaths. You can probably see where I'm going with this.

 I take my mask off, hesitantly, 40ft under water. I couldn't see the surface before it was so murky, and now I'm blind. And suddenly, salt water is coming in through my nose. My mind panicked. There was no chance I'd be able to surface before choking, if I couldn't get oxygen in. I knew that. I think that thought it was made me stay down and force through it. I shoved the goggles back to my face and tried desperately to only breath in through my mouth. It was so hard. My instinct, to calm myself, was to do nostril breathing, because that's what I've trained myself to do for years. Not being able to do it made me even more panicked. I reached out to our instructor for help as I continued trying to breathe right. His eyes encouraged me to be calm. There's not much else he could do at that point, and I knew it. He couldn't help me breathe correctly. I finally managed to get enough oxygen to then blow out my nose, clearing my flooded mask of salt water. I felt my full breath come in, and my eyes stung, but it began wearing off. I caught my breath, became comfortable again with breathing with just my mouth, out of a tank of air. I calmed down. The other 3 divers then did the same technique, and we started swimming around more. We surfaced maybe 15mins later.

At that point, back on the boat, I actually felt ok. I hadn't forgotten about what happened down there, but it wasn't eating at me or anything. And so I moved on. We were done for the day, I went home, and tried to sleep. I had waking and sleeping nightmares of drowning. The experience had hit me on a deeper level than I realized. I tried meditation, but even that was unnerving, because after that scare, I didn't trust my nostril breath. It felt wrong to breathe from the nose. Even as I write this, that is the case. I think it'll take some time for that to go away.

I woke up today for our last diving session. I felt nervous, especially after the nightmares, but I was sure I could do it. We would be doing the goggle removal technique again, along with another where we take out our regulator and breathe into our inflator manually, then put the regulator back in, and another where we switch to a partner's regulator, then back to our own. But all this would be done at 18m, around 60ft in depth.

Things started out fine. We got geared up, hopped in, and started submersion. I was definitely nervous and wasn't appreciating the clear water and plentiful fish as much as earlier, but I was determined to complete the techniques and get my license. We started down, equalizing (popping) our ears as we went down in depth. We hit 18m and I was OK. Then came technique time, and I froze. I had every intention of doing them when I went down, but when it came time, I couldn't bear the idea of taking my oxygen source out of my mouth, so far from the surface. The very idea made me breathe harder, struggling to inhale the same air I would on the surface, but it just wouldn't happen. I didn't feel comfortable doing it. I was too scared. So I chilled, tried to relax why the other 3 did it with few issues. Then we swam on, enjoying the view. I was unnerved, surprised by my own panic. I was ready to hit the surface and breathe through my nose again. About 15mins later, we did.

I am really disappointed I couldn't do the techniques and get my certification. I love the new world scuba opened me up to. It's like nothing else I've ever done. And I want to continue it. Luckily, all I'll have to do is make up what I missed at a later date. But for now, I need to recenter and relearn to trust my breath, and find more methods of dealing with panic, especially underwater. I'm super grateful I had the opportunity to do this at all, especially in such a beautiful place. It was more than worth it, as far as I got. 

Maintaining a Life Story

I've been thinking a lot lately about aspects of life I've neglected for years. Specifically, religion or spirituality. I gave up Catholicism at the age of 13. The way I saw things practiced in the church conflicted with my own personal views, even at such a young age. I saw countless contradictions in what was preached and what was practiced. Since then, like many ex-Catholics, I have been jaded with religion, preferring the clear rationality and tangibility of science, which I viewed as opposed to religion. Unfortunately, for me this involved forefeiting my connection with the spiritual, or mystical, whatever you want to call it. More than that, it severed my connection with a larger community group, something I was a part of. A group that told its own stories which guided me until I left. Though I left for a reason, there was value to all that. I'm realizing that more and more over time, but particularly over this trip, as I see the power and utility of other cultures' communities.

In The Hero With a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell writes about a common human mythology that spans generations, from time immemorial to the present day. He marks striking commonalities among the legends and stories humans from all world locations have shared in their communities, recited to their children, and used as beacons of morality to guide their lives. He finds that these myths are vital in maintaining a society with a coherent collective mission. Not only that, but they are also necessary for the development and continual maturing process of the individual soul.

He discusses the absolute importance of the soul's developmental process, and argues that the myths which guide our lives and cultures are that which infuse the soul with meaning. Without myths and the stories and symbolism that communicate them, he fears our lives lose direction. Life loses its sense of purpose absent an overarching narrative that puts our experiences into perspective, that helps us identify them with something larger.

This idea of an overarching life narrative is one that has constantly resurfaced throughout my travels. Though it was there before, nothing brings this issue to the foreground more than having your tacit assumptions or ardent beliefs challenged on a daily basis, as you are immersed and must get by in vastly different cultures. Some experiences have such an impact on you that you can't help but reevaluate particular understandings of reality. You are forced to see things in a different way. And there may never be a going back to how you saw things before. Sometimes this experience is immediately liberating; you experience a sudden clarity that lightens your sense of being. Other times, the experience is an unexpected submersion into the ice cold waters of fear and anxiety. You're scared or hurt, and you're not sure how to best move forward. You get stuck in depression or you become paralyzed by anxiety.

The thing is, having a coherent narrative can help us overcome these trying experiences. Having a solid purpose in life, which this narrative elucidates, contextualizes the difficulties we face and gives us hope they will in the end be for our benefit; for our pruning, and ultimately for our personal growth. Without this narrative, we live in constant uncertainty about our actions. Did I do the right thing? Maybe I messed things up and will never get the chance to correct them? (living in the past; depression). What should I do? There are so many choices, what if I make the wrong one? (living in the future; anxiety).

The question is, how do we know what our life narrative is? And even if we do, we may find that it's hard to maintain it, hard to always live by it. We get easily distracted. Other options pop up that may seem easier than staying true to our heart, the guide for our life narrative.

I'm not sure how we find it, other than just being open and honest with ourselves, even when it's difficult, when we may not want to hear, think about, or accept what we know deep down to be true. But I think some wisdom can be found in Campbell's writing, particularly with regard to those of us who struggle constantly with lingering doubts and worries about the future, or are going through tough times:

"Schism in the soul will not be resolved by any scheme of return to the good old days (archaism), or by programs guaranteed to render an ideal projected future (futurism), or even by the most realistic, hardheaded work to weld together again the deteriorating elements. Only birth can conquer death—the birth, not of the old thing again, but of something new. Within the soul there must be—if we are to experience long survival—a continuous "recurrence of birth" (palingenesia) to nullify the unremitting recurrences of death."

It much less elegant words, I think Campbell is saying that we have to continually let ourselves - our assumptions about life, our expectations - die, in order to fully live, in order to free our own soul. We need to accept that we are not the same person we were 10 years ago, 1 year ago, even yesterday. And this is a beautiful thing! Because our goal should be to continually grow, to mature. And a necessary part of that process is letting go of who we might have been, then embracing who we are now, and finally aspiring to be even better. This involves continually modifying our personal story. I thought I was a loving person, but this action doesn't align with that. What happened? Have I been ignoring something about myself? Or maybe you dealt with something in childhood that, though you haven't thought much about it in years, still affects you or holds you hostage in some way, shapes your personality and behaviors. Maybe it's time to modify the story you keep telling yourself about yourself. We need to constantly remind ourselves of what we've been through, and decide where that fit into our own personal story.

What really moves me about all this is that this approach assumes we will make mistakes, and regret them; and that we all have experienced great suffering. Indeed it thrives on this fact. You must have the lows in order to appreciate the highs. And so we should do our best to be grateful for those lows, even when we're experiencing them. Sure, it's easier said than done, but the result is being in touch with the song of your soul, and singing with it in unison.

I want to end with a quote from Kahlil Gibran, on love, which I think summarizes a lot of this poetically:

"When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,  Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears."