Paradise (or The mind is its own place)

I keep thinking about the word "paradise." What does that word mean, anyway? I looked up the definition and the first three given are religious. But is "heaven" the same thing as "paradise?" I'm sure that heaven is paradise for some people, but is the opposite true? Maybe it is for the people who don't subscribe to the former sentiment. I don't know.

For me, paradise makes me think of John Milton and Joni Mitchell (or The Counting Crows if you don't know what I'm talking about). Is that odd?

The word also makes me think of money--big, flashy, excessive splashes of money. The kind I'll never have. So, another word attaches itself behind it, bright like neon lights, glaring and ushering "paradise" out of my mouth without so much as a lingering taste, heavenly or otherwise. That word is "unaffordable." This gives rise to another word, one I think most people associate with paradise and that is "vacation," which, in turn, is loaded with a mind-map of words and images.

It's "green" or low season in Thailand though because of the monsoons and I've found myself on vacation and able to afford a little slice of somebody's so-called paradise.

I am on an island off the coast of Thailand. I'm staying in a resort. I have a comfortable room with air-con, a king-sized bed, a hammock and an enclosed outdoor bathroom all to myself. The weather is gorgeous. It's monsoon season and I haven't seen a drop of rain since I got here on Saturday. My door is seconds from the beach. The wind and the heat are strong, but it feels really nice down by the water. Today I had a free, hour-long massage compliments of booking during green season. For dinner I had a fruit plate, french fries and a coconut shake (this last also free as part of my resort package) just because I could. Tomorrow, I'm getting a scalp massage and hot oil hair treatment (this I'm paying for, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be worth it).

Is this paradise? I don't think so. And not just because I've always been more of a fall and winter person than a hot, sticky, sweaty heat person. (You're probably thinking, "Why did you choose Vietnam then?" I have no answer to this question despite the fact that everyone I know and everyone I've met since arriving has asked it of me.)

One look at the beach and you'd understand why. There's more plastic than you could possibly imagine: cups, shoes, bags, toothbrushes, bottles, yogurt containers, ropes, food wrappers and random bits of things I can't identify. It makes me cringe.

Having grown up in Western Washington, which has a reputation for being ultra-green and recycling is promoted everywhere even in commercials ostensibly advertising the state, I inherently rebel against littering. I once snapped at a group of teenagers tossing rocks at a can on the beach because I thought they'd thrown the can there. I was horribly embarrassed at my outburst, particularly because I was only a few years older than them and they were innocent of the crime. That didn't stop me from picking up the can and recycling it on my walk home. 

To say the pollution in Vietnam eats away at me would be an understatement. There's more waste on the ground than there is ground and people regularly burn piles of plastic in an attempt to "clean up." On my last bus ride from Cambodia to Vietnam a water bottle, one of the big, 1.5 liter ones, was rolling around between the seats. An old woman in the aisle across from me picked it up and promptly dropped it out her window. It was two-thirds of the way full and it wasn't hers. Occurrences like this happen all the time in Vietnam. I'm reasonably sure that the old woman thought she was keeping the bus clean. Though, I suppose she might have just been annoyed with it as it kept knocking into her feet.

In order to live in Vietnam I have to ignore these occurrences. I am not proud of this but it is something I absolutely have to do in order to retain my sanity. The most insane, utterly unbelievable part of Vietnam's ignorance about saving the planet is that recycling is actually a business there. People push carts up and down all the alleys, side streets and main thoroughfares paying people for their recycling only to then turn it over to a recycling center for a profit. In a country where the divide between rich and poor is staggering, why don't more people sell their recycling? This makes absolutely no sense to me.

I've only been in Thailand for a week and I don't know how recycling works here, but there were recycling bins everywhere in Bangkok which is awesome. Also, for two days I watched the resort staff rake the beach of garbage. At first, the sight comforted me, filled me with hope. At least these people cared, right? What brings me up short, however, is that why doesn't everybody care? Resorts, restaurants and bars line the beach. The only spot with no trash is the one in front of the the resort I'm staying at. So, maybe, I unknowingly chose the best place to stay here, but there's nothing right about it. It horrifies me.

On my first walk along the beach I was giddy about trailing my bare feet through the sand but the incredible, ridiculous amounts of garbage made me reevaluate the intelligence of removing my sandals. Then the sight of syringes stopped me dead in my tracks. I'm in a country that has a serious reputation concerning illegal drugs. (I swear to God The Beach and Brokedown Palace scarred me for life.) Those syringes freaked me out. I didn't get close enough to see if there were needles. I turned around and headed back to my hotel, all thoughts of swimming and curling my toes in the sand abandoned along with all the trash littering the beach.
  
This island has all the makings of a tourism brochure to be paradise but I can't get past the heaps of refuse on the otherwise soft, sparkling stretch of sand. It overwhelms me with sadness, which is the exact opposite of paradise according to the other two definitions: a place (or state) of extreme beauty or happiness; bliss. 

So, I keep thinking about the word "paradise." While it always seems to evoke images of a blinding sun, dazzling white beaches, deep blue water, palm trees and pina coladas, none of those things appear in any definition of the word. Advertisers and marketing teams have cleverly cultivated the word to become synonymous with their vacation destinations. But if paradise is really bliss, then it must be subjective. It also doesn't have to be a place; it can be a feeling.

Now I keep thinking about the words "extreme" and "happiness" and I think I'm still working on "paradise." But all is not lost. I know that I get to decide what paradise is for me and the coolest, most comforting part is that I have the ability to create it, too.

Cambodia Revisited

Am I allowed to claim nostalgia for a place I visited less than a year ago? Somehow it feels more like a lifetime despite remembering it so well. I love Cambodia. I'm not even sure why. Perhaps it's because it's the place I started my Asian adventure and I was so happy to be there. I always remember places I was truly happy with deep fondness. It was only two weeks, filled mostly with class and homework, but I loved every minute of my time in Cambodia. On my second trip there, I didn't love every minute but I loved most of them.

Cambodia is a warm, welcoming country where everybody has a smile to share and time flows easily, almost gently. Even in Phnom Penh, the capital and busiest, loudest part of the country, I felt lazy and relaxed. Siem Reap, however, was where I felt the most mellow and comfortable, as if the city wrapped around me like a cozy blanket and encouraged me to let life be without trying to control it for a bit. While I can be lazy, often to shameful extents, I also tend to carry my stress around, heavy and tight in my shoulders, and I am forever dwelling in the cave of my mind, thoughts lining the walls and compressing the air. Siem Reap, the gateway to Angkor Wat and a host of other ancient temples, is a tourist town. Shops full of trinkets and t-shirts cross the city like a patchwork quilt, interwoven with countless western-oriented restaurants, cafes, massage parlors and travel agencies. You can book tours virtually everywhere and tuk tuk drivers line the streets, ready to take you anywhere you want to go. In the midst of this rampant tourism and consumerism, I found myself full of laziness, goodwill and joy. There is no explanation for this; I can't explain it at all. But I loved it, brimming with happiness and calm, smiling as easily and effortlessly as the Khmer people around me.

It helped, of course, that I visited the famous temples in the area again. I'd seen them on my last stay but Emily hadn't and I believe that no trip to Southeast Asia is complete without seeing at least Angkor Wat, Bayon and Ta Prohm. If you've been to this corner of the world and missed these temples, I'm sorry to tell you that your trip was a failure and you need to do it again. End of discussion.

The temples in this region are magnificent, majestic wonders. I can't begin to describe their magnitude and their beauty. Stepping into them is like being transported to the most serene, peaceful, inspiring place in time. The time might be a moment in your life but it feels like so much more, as if you've traveled through it, your feet standing in the past, present and future all at once.

Some people buy week-long passes and visit the temples every day. Emily and I did eight hours one day, and while I'm sure we missed a lot, it felt like a good amount of time for us. We spent the day riding around in a lavender tuk tuk with an English-speaking guide and walking through the mystical, almost supernatural temples. As I've already said, words aren't very useful or helpful in describing the temples; they are breathtaking and words, which I love deeply and dearly, fail me. Here, instead, are some of the pictures I took. They don't capture the feelings or the magical air of the temples, but some of them are pretty. My advice is to go see them for yourselves; you won't regret it. I know they will remain one of the highlights of my life.

Angkor Wat at sunrise.

One of thousands of detailed, preserved carvings in the stone at Angkor Wat.

Another reflecting pool picture. This one of Bayon.

Happy and serious Buddhas rise up over all of Bayon. They make me smile just to look at them.

Ta Prohm (or the Tomb Raider temple).

Ta Prohm again.

In Siem Reap, we succumbed to consumerism and bought many wonderful, pretty things at the markets. Then we jostled along to Phnom Penh where we didn't do much of anything other than visit the Killing Fields, the tragic site where the Khmer Rouge killed thousands of Cambodian people from 1975-79. It is now a monument to those who suffered and died during the genocidal reign of Pol-Pot. In the center is a temple that was built to house all the skulls and bones excavated from the mass graves and there is a museum that details the atrocities that occurred there and elsewhere in the country during the time. It is a horrible, bone-chilling place, but an important part of Khmer history and something I felt was important to see.

After the capital we still had a few days left so we boarded another packed bus and bounced along to Kampot, a small town near the southern border of Vietnam. There we booked a countryside tour that consisted of being driven around in a tuk tuk by a driver who spoke no English and stopping occasionally to look at things we had no information on. The first stop was probably the most hilarious. We got out at a long, wooden building surrounded by fields of water. Inside were enormous piles of salt. That was it. Our driver scooped some up in his hands to make sure we understood what it was, I took a picture, and then we left.

Salt.

The next stop was a little better. Two kids who spoke excellent English attached themselves to us and took us on a tour through a cave. Bo and Lin, about nine and seven respectively (though Lin told me she was 24 after she asked me how hold I was and gleefully declared herself older than me), were delightful, energetic kids, full of information and questions. It was downpouring but they led us up the cliff-side to the cave, soaking wet, and then through the darkness, Lin winding her flashlight so we could see and Bo pointing out all the shapes in the rocks. They even convinced us to crawl, climb, stumble and splash down the dark alternate exit. We were muddy but laughing, a little shocked to be uninjured when we squeezed through the opening at the end.

The rest of the tour wasn't nearly as fun as that bit. We also went to a pepper farm and ate lunch along the sidewalk at a beach in nearby Kep. It rained the whole time and I still don't know anything about Kampot.

Pepper.

Crabs actually scuttled across the streets miles away from the beach. It was kind of surreal.

Our whirlwind adventure ended at 2:45 Sunday morning after a hellacious 17 hour bus ride from Kampot to Saigon. We went from a shuttle bus that took us across the border to a local bus that picked up Vietnamese people every 15 minutes, packing them into the aisles with their babies and their bags, to a bus station where we were left without information for two and a half hours only to get on another bus that eventually got us into Saigon in the wee hours of the morning after crossing a river on a ferry and picking up even more Vietnamese people that there were no seats for. To say we were swindled by the guy who sold us the bus tickets is going too easy on him. Accompanying us on this journey were three Austrian guys who were even more out of their depth than we were. At least Emily and I were privy to how Vietnamese buses work when they're not clearly for tourists, which is what we thought we'd bought, especially because they were so expensive. We were not pleased.

I'm even less pleased now though because Emily leaves for home tomorrow. I will miss her when she's gone. We had an amazing month of travel and adventure that I will never forget. I will always be thankful for her deciding to come to Saigon to teach as well. Having her here has made my life a lot more pleasant and fun. It's good to have friends. Thanks Emily.

Be sure to check out her blog to get the other side of this story: http://neitherthere.wordpress.com/

Up next: I'm off to Thailand where I'll be visiting friends and hopefully hitting up a resort and lazing on the beach, so stick around. My adventure isn't over yet.