Arriving
The week began for Lucy and I without a Friday.
Waiting at the security check of the San Francisco Airport, as the clock passed the midnight line, hardly felt like the dawning of a new day, but rather the extension of one very long Thursday, in which we had spent many hours repacking, doing our last minute errands and saying our good-byes. I couldn’t help but mutter that the new security arrangements, although necessary, seemed awfully similar to the practice of safe sex, with the obliteration of any contact with fluids on one’s person. Probably a bad joke, I would agree, and I don’t mean to sexualize things, but it got me thinking about what our population has to do in the name of security in this new world order. Water and fluids often symbolize the essence of life in many spiritual practices. As our world becomes more complex and threatening, this seems like a paradoxical metaphor in which we need to remove ourselves from the flow of life in order to stay safe and secure.
For the past two years we had been trying to find a sense of security in our lives in Vancouver. It probably would have worked if we weren’t both struggling with the god-awful Lyme’s disease that sucked the energy and sense of well being right out of our bodies and souls. For years, we had both been invaded by nasty bacteria that wormed their way into the core of our immune cells causing havoc and destruction wherever they went. Our immune systems seemed helpless to combat this camouflage warfare, other than screaming out in futile protest in the form of growing symtomotology.
The good news was that with finally getting a correct diagnosis and with a highly effective treatment plan, known as the Marshall Protocol that was being administered by our wonderful holistic doctor Greg Blaney, a cure was in sight. For me, I have not suffered from my headaches in over one and a half years, and if anything could be considered a blessing, that certainly was. The bad news was that this treatment, while successful, could take over two years. It is a long series of detoxifications that result in physical and mental exhaustion beyond belief, muscle and joint aches, nerve disorders, mental confusion, sleep disturbances and all sorts of other thrilling experiences. Knowing that there is a light at the end of the tunnel is a consolation worth holding onto, but it does make functioning in the real world challenging, and some days we couldn’t help but wonder if that light was another train approaching us on our single track within the darkness.
During this time we tried starting a small business providing innovative holistic workshops in health and wellness for both the Aboriginal and general population in British Columbia. Lucy and I have a wonderful way of working together, and the work that we did was well received. We found the work exciting and looked forward to doing more. Like any new business, however, a tremendous amount of mental and physical energy is required for marketing and development, and consistent energy was not something that our treatments afforded us.
In trying to work at a slower more sensible pace, I found myself sitting around too much going through internal conflict. It became quite clear that the demands of healing and the demands of starting a business were forming their own battle lines. Healing conforms to neither schedule nor pressure, while work certainly does. After much discussion and debate, we decided to get our business development past its initial stage with the completion of a website and certain commitments that we already had, and then take an eight month sabbatical to focus on our healing. (If you are interested in checking out our website, please go to www.steppingstonesworkshops.com. We welcome any feedback you might have.)
Once we made this decision, it didn’t take us long to decide to follow our hearts and return to Thailand. For reasons of both the economics of not having an income, and the affinity we have for the Buddhist culture, this was an obvious choice for us. We decided to initially set up base in Chaingmai, where we lived and worked several years ago. This time around we were going to take time for ourselves, and simply see what unfolded. We knew that we wanted to spend time meditating in a couple of wats (Buddhist temples), that I wanted to write and Lucy wanted to explore art. Other than that we were going to simply invite life to unfold in front of us without any specific plans. We didn’t even know if we were going to travel much; maybe yes, maybe no.
Sitting on board Singapore Airlines several hours later, I attempted to not try to make too much sense of what was occurring. Hurling through space above the Pacific Ocean at speeds and altitudes that defy basic human modes of functioning, through a night that would seem endless, while punching through time zones that ridiculed the notion that one could rely on one’s wristwatch, and having tomorrow obliterate today (which never really began) as we crossed some imaginary International Date Line, logic was no longer the ruler of this flying roost. Several movies on demand and meals later, when it was apparently Saturday morning, we stretched our legs at the Hong Kong airport and treated ourselves to some noodle soup, not trying to figure out if this was breakfast, lunch or dinner. We figured that by West Coast time (although that was yesterday here) it was just two days since we had left Lake Tahoe where we had taken my parents for a holiday, and spent our last day in America in San Mateo, a suburb of San Francisco. We were now in the outskirts of Hong Kong, and that within the next 5 days we would spend time in Singapore and Bangkok before taking a night train to Chaingmai.
Flying south over the east coast of China, I tried not to think of the sadness of leaving so many people behind. It had been great to spend the last two years with our children and grandchildren, becoming more intimately part of their lives again, and knowing that we were closer to our parents and siblings. We never realized how many wonderful friends we had until we had to say good-bye, once again, to all of them. I also tried to push away the thoughts of once again being homeless, and the exhaustion that we had faced over the past couple of months closing up shop. The life of a wanderer can certainly be a two-edged sword. So I thought back to the first time I flew this route four years before, not quite believing that I was over China. Later as we had flown over Vietnam on that previous voyage, I couldn’t help but reflect back on how a previous brutal American war with this country had shaped the life that I was to embrace. I never did make it to Vietnam in my travels, but I vividly remember one night in Laos, watching a full moon reflect on the Mae Kong River, a body of water that is birthed in Tibet and after travelling through 7 countries, empties into the Pacific in a delta in Vietnam where too much of the violence of that war took place.
After yet another meal, movie and a bit of shut-eye, the pilot announced that we were approaching the end of our journey in Singapore. We had spent time in Singapore on several other occasions, and were looking forward to three days here this time as well.
Singapore is probably one of the most modern cities in the world, with architectural designs sprouting out of the earth in Jetsonesk-like fashion. Much controversy is generated in this city between the concepts of freedom and good governance, something that I hope to write about more soon. While fascinated by this modern city, our passion lies in the older quarter of Little India. Here the buildings are only several stories high, old and thrown together in a hodgepodge of fascinating shapes, colours and patterns, along streets that are bustling with people at any time of the day or night. There is litter strewn on the streets here, and certainly nobody gives you a fine for chewing gum or blocking the street with you car, truck, bike or cart. The stuff of life oozes out of every pore of this neighbourhood, which is what is so appealing to us.
Everywhere you turn there are out-door fast food restaurants. Before I hear gasps of shock across the e-waves, let me assure you that the notion of fast food in Indian culture is not even a distant cousin of that back home. Delicious and healthy curries of every description, both vegetarian and non-vegetarian, are in hot trays, ready to be served with a variety of Indian breads and rice. Drink it down with water, soda, Ceylon tea or a lassi that is served in some restaurants and you are in culinary heaven at prices that fit any traveller’s budget.
We had chosen the Royal India Hotel, which we had seen on previous visits, as our resting place. I suspect that this hotel has seen better days when it may have been the place to stay in the centre of Little India. Although I wouldn’t call it a dive now, it was certainly run down. A saving grace was that our room not only had running hot water, although it took us a day to figure out how to use it, and air-conditioning, not to mention a window facing the street. The first room we were shown was a cell without a window, but thankfully, we were able to switch. While the hotel staff were not overly friendly, they were efficient and helpful.
Our plan was to sleep off jet lag in our hotel and wander out in the sticky heat to fill our bellies whenever we felt the urge. The fact that both of us arrived with a combination of the flu and a head cold, not to mention exhaustion, only strengthened our desire to happily hole up in our tiny room. We had brought several novels with us that kept us content.
Sunday evening was an exception. Looking out our window in the late afternoon, we noticed an unusually large number of people, mostly men, hanging out and walking along the streets. Within a couple of hours this had turned into what can only be described as a flood of men surging through the streets. Some were walking alone, but most were in pairs, often either arm in arm or rubbing shoulders, or there were small groups standing to the side in animated conversation, some standing, some sitting, some squatting. We were later to learn that for most men, Sunday is their only day off, and that there is a tradition of gathering with friends in the evening. We noticed busses that had obviously transported men here by the thousands from other parts of the city. What the tradition for women was, if any, was only speculation. They were certainly nowhere to be seen. Whether they congregated together in their homes, or whether taking time out to socialize was not one of their allotted luxuries was and remains outside of our knowledge.
Soon our bellies were beginning to growl and out into the crowds we went. We were one of the very few Westerners out and about, and dear Lucy was even in a smaller minority, but that didn’t deter us. Everywhere we went, we had to dodge and push our way through the sea of men. There was a hum of energy that was palpable, but never once did we feel anything other than safe or even noticed, for that matter. It was as if we were invisibly bobbing through another dimension that only we could see and feel. What an experience!
The next night was Lucy’s birthday. We celebrated it by doing what we enjoy most; eating. Walking down an alley of upscale shops the day before, we had found an interesting restaurant called The Banana Leaf. Very modern and air conditioned, there was a large menu to choose from. After much difficulty, we finally settled on a spinach paneer and a curried chicken, along with garlic naan, all served on a banana leaf; the traditional way of eating. The flavours were exquisite, transporting our birthday girl, as well as her host, into heaven.
The next day we were back to the airport for the relatively short flight to Bangkok. (After crossing the Pacific, almost any flight is short.) Bangkok was relatively unremarkable, as we didn’t feel the need to see things that we had seen before. To compensate for a simple hotel in Singapore, we completed Lucy’s birthday celebration by staying at quite a decent hotel; the Royal River Hotel. Although we usually stay in very simple and inexpensive accommodations in Thailand (between $5 - $10Can a night), we splurged and rented a suite, certainly something we have never done before. For about half the cost of a normal hotel room back home, we spent two days and nights in luxury, drifting through our spacious suite with a beautiful view of the river. It came complete with a double door entrance, with sculptures of lions on either side, not to mention two separate balconies.
One night we went to what looked like a basic restaurant next door, the River Bar, that we could see from our suite. With an outside on the river, we figured we would have a enjoyable evening. While the food was good and reasonably priced, the treat in store for us was the music. The inside sported a night club with a modern décor in all black and white with a performance by a local four piece Thai band, Blue on Blue. There was a combination of jazz, blues and old time rock and roll, with the lead member playing some of the finest guitar we have heard anywhere, with a voice to match. We were mesmerized by this music and didn’t want it to end.
The next night we took a night train to Chaingmai where we have been for the past week and a half. This account is getting long enough so I will write more at a future date. Suffice it to say that we are happy to be back here, and taking life very slow. Just what ‘the doctor’ ordered.
After much encouragement by many of you, I hope to write more accounts of our experience here. As we don’t plan on doing an extensive amount of travelling, they will probably be in the form of vignettes of impressions of a different way of life. I’m in the process of setting up several connected blog sites, and will let you know about them once they are up and running. If you don’t want to be on this email list please let me know, and I will take you off.
While far away, Lucy and I love to keep our relationships alive and would love to hear from you. We look forward to old-fashioned personal letters (on email), as well as this group format. So we look forward to hearing from you if you wish, and we will certainly write back.
Keep well for now.
Regards from Ralph, and his sidekick, Lucy
Waiting at the security check of the San Francisco Airport, as the clock passed the midnight line, hardly felt like the dawning of a new day, but rather the extension of one very long Thursday, in which we had spent many hours repacking, doing our last minute errands and saying our good-byes. I couldn’t help but mutter that the new security arrangements, although necessary, seemed awfully similar to the practice of safe sex, with the obliteration of any contact with fluids on one’s person. Probably a bad joke, I would agree, and I don’t mean to sexualize things, but it got me thinking about what our population has to do in the name of security in this new world order. Water and fluids often symbolize the essence of life in many spiritual practices. As our world becomes more complex and threatening, this seems like a paradoxical metaphor in which we need to remove ourselves from the flow of life in order to stay safe and secure.
For the past two years we had been trying to find a sense of security in our lives in Vancouver. It probably would have worked if we weren’t both struggling with the god-awful Lyme’s disease that sucked the energy and sense of well being right out of our bodies and souls. For years, we had both been invaded by nasty bacteria that wormed their way into the core of our immune cells causing havoc and destruction wherever they went. Our immune systems seemed helpless to combat this camouflage warfare, other than screaming out in futile protest in the form of growing symtomotology.
The good news was that with finally getting a correct diagnosis and with a highly effective treatment plan, known as the Marshall Protocol that was being administered by our wonderful holistic doctor Greg Blaney, a cure was in sight. For me, I have not suffered from my headaches in over one and a half years, and if anything could be considered a blessing, that certainly was. The bad news was that this treatment, while successful, could take over two years. It is a long series of detoxifications that result in physical and mental exhaustion beyond belief, muscle and joint aches, nerve disorders, mental confusion, sleep disturbances and all sorts of other thrilling experiences. Knowing that there is a light at the end of the tunnel is a consolation worth holding onto, but it does make functioning in the real world challenging, and some days we couldn’t help but wonder if that light was another train approaching us on our single track within the darkness.
During this time we tried starting a small business providing innovative holistic workshops in health and wellness for both the Aboriginal and general population in British Columbia. Lucy and I have a wonderful way of working together, and the work that we did was well received. We found the work exciting and looked forward to doing more. Like any new business, however, a tremendous amount of mental and physical energy is required for marketing and development, and consistent energy was not something that our treatments afforded us.
In trying to work at a slower more sensible pace, I found myself sitting around too much going through internal conflict. It became quite clear that the demands of healing and the demands of starting a business were forming their own battle lines. Healing conforms to neither schedule nor pressure, while work certainly does. After much discussion and debate, we decided to get our business development past its initial stage with the completion of a website and certain commitments that we already had, and then take an eight month sabbatical to focus on our healing. (If you are interested in checking out our website, please go to www.steppingstonesworkshops.com. We welcome any feedback you might have.)
Once we made this decision, it didn’t take us long to decide to follow our hearts and return to Thailand. For reasons of both the economics of not having an income, and the affinity we have for the Buddhist culture, this was an obvious choice for us. We decided to initially set up base in Chaingmai, where we lived and worked several years ago. This time around we were going to take time for ourselves, and simply see what unfolded. We knew that we wanted to spend time meditating in a couple of wats (Buddhist temples), that I wanted to write and Lucy wanted to explore art. Other than that we were going to simply invite life to unfold in front of us without any specific plans. We didn’t even know if we were going to travel much; maybe yes, maybe no.
Sitting on board Singapore Airlines several hours later, I attempted to not try to make too much sense of what was occurring. Hurling through space above the Pacific Ocean at speeds and altitudes that defy basic human modes of functioning, through a night that would seem endless, while punching through time zones that ridiculed the notion that one could rely on one’s wristwatch, and having tomorrow obliterate today (which never really began) as we crossed some imaginary International Date Line, logic was no longer the ruler of this flying roost. Several movies on demand and meals later, when it was apparently Saturday morning, we stretched our legs at the Hong Kong airport and treated ourselves to some noodle soup, not trying to figure out if this was breakfast, lunch or dinner. We figured that by West Coast time (although that was yesterday here) it was just two days since we had left Lake Tahoe where we had taken my parents for a holiday, and spent our last day in America in San Mateo, a suburb of San Francisco. We were now in the outskirts of Hong Kong, and that within the next 5 days we would spend time in Singapore and Bangkok before taking a night train to Chaingmai.
Flying south over the east coast of China, I tried not to think of the sadness of leaving so many people behind. It had been great to spend the last two years with our children and grandchildren, becoming more intimately part of their lives again, and knowing that we were closer to our parents and siblings. We never realized how many wonderful friends we had until we had to say good-bye, once again, to all of them. I also tried to push away the thoughts of once again being homeless, and the exhaustion that we had faced over the past couple of months closing up shop. The life of a wanderer can certainly be a two-edged sword. So I thought back to the first time I flew this route four years before, not quite believing that I was over China. Later as we had flown over Vietnam on that previous voyage, I couldn’t help but reflect back on how a previous brutal American war with this country had shaped the life that I was to embrace. I never did make it to Vietnam in my travels, but I vividly remember one night in Laos, watching a full moon reflect on the Mae Kong River, a body of water that is birthed in Tibet and after travelling through 7 countries, empties into the Pacific in a delta in Vietnam where too much of the violence of that war took place.
After yet another meal, movie and a bit of shut-eye, the pilot announced that we were approaching the end of our journey in Singapore. We had spent time in Singapore on several other occasions, and were looking forward to three days here this time as well.
Singapore is probably one of the most modern cities in the world, with architectural designs sprouting out of the earth in Jetsonesk-like fashion. Much controversy is generated in this city between the concepts of freedom and good governance, something that I hope to write about more soon. While fascinated by this modern city, our passion lies in the older quarter of Little India. Here the buildings are only several stories high, old and thrown together in a hodgepodge of fascinating shapes, colours and patterns, along streets that are bustling with people at any time of the day or night. There is litter strewn on the streets here, and certainly nobody gives you a fine for chewing gum or blocking the street with you car, truck, bike or cart. The stuff of life oozes out of every pore of this neighbourhood, which is what is so appealing to us.
Everywhere you turn there are out-door fast food restaurants. Before I hear gasps of shock across the e-waves, let me assure you that the notion of fast food in Indian culture is not even a distant cousin of that back home. Delicious and healthy curries of every description, both vegetarian and non-vegetarian, are in hot trays, ready to be served with a variety of Indian breads and rice. Drink it down with water, soda, Ceylon tea or a lassi that is served in some restaurants and you are in culinary heaven at prices that fit any traveller’s budget.
We had chosen the Royal India Hotel, which we had seen on previous visits, as our resting place. I suspect that this hotel has seen better days when it may have been the place to stay in the centre of Little India. Although I wouldn’t call it a dive now, it was certainly run down. A saving grace was that our room not only had running hot water, although it took us a day to figure out how to use it, and air-conditioning, not to mention a window facing the street. The first room we were shown was a cell without a window, but thankfully, we were able to switch. While the hotel staff were not overly friendly, they were efficient and helpful.
Our plan was to sleep off jet lag in our hotel and wander out in the sticky heat to fill our bellies whenever we felt the urge. The fact that both of us arrived with a combination of the flu and a head cold, not to mention exhaustion, only strengthened our desire to happily hole up in our tiny room. We had brought several novels with us that kept us content.
Sunday evening was an exception. Looking out our window in the late afternoon, we noticed an unusually large number of people, mostly men, hanging out and walking along the streets. Within a couple of hours this had turned into what can only be described as a flood of men surging through the streets. Some were walking alone, but most were in pairs, often either arm in arm or rubbing shoulders, or there were small groups standing to the side in animated conversation, some standing, some sitting, some squatting. We were later to learn that for most men, Sunday is their only day off, and that there is a tradition of gathering with friends in the evening. We noticed busses that had obviously transported men here by the thousands from other parts of the city. What the tradition for women was, if any, was only speculation. They were certainly nowhere to be seen. Whether they congregated together in their homes, or whether taking time out to socialize was not one of their allotted luxuries was and remains outside of our knowledge.
Soon our bellies were beginning to growl and out into the crowds we went. We were one of the very few Westerners out and about, and dear Lucy was even in a smaller minority, but that didn’t deter us. Everywhere we went, we had to dodge and push our way through the sea of men. There was a hum of energy that was palpable, but never once did we feel anything other than safe or even noticed, for that matter. It was as if we were invisibly bobbing through another dimension that only we could see and feel. What an experience!
The next night was Lucy’s birthday. We celebrated it by doing what we enjoy most; eating. Walking down an alley of upscale shops the day before, we had found an interesting restaurant called The Banana Leaf. Very modern and air conditioned, there was a large menu to choose from. After much difficulty, we finally settled on a spinach paneer and a curried chicken, along with garlic naan, all served on a banana leaf; the traditional way of eating. The flavours were exquisite, transporting our birthday girl, as well as her host, into heaven.
The next day we were back to the airport for the relatively short flight to Bangkok. (After crossing the Pacific, almost any flight is short.) Bangkok was relatively unremarkable, as we didn’t feel the need to see things that we had seen before. To compensate for a simple hotel in Singapore, we completed Lucy’s birthday celebration by staying at quite a decent hotel; the Royal River Hotel. Although we usually stay in very simple and inexpensive accommodations in Thailand (between $5 - $10Can a night), we splurged and rented a suite, certainly something we have never done before. For about half the cost of a normal hotel room back home, we spent two days and nights in luxury, drifting through our spacious suite with a beautiful view of the river. It came complete with a double door entrance, with sculptures of lions on either side, not to mention two separate balconies.
One night we went to what looked like a basic restaurant next door, the River Bar, that we could see from our suite. With an outside on the river, we figured we would have a enjoyable evening. While the food was good and reasonably priced, the treat in store for us was the music. The inside sported a night club with a modern décor in all black and white with a performance by a local four piece Thai band, Blue on Blue. There was a combination of jazz, blues and old time rock and roll, with the lead member playing some of the finest guitar we have heard anywhere, with a voice to match. We were mesmerized by this music and didn’t want it to end.
The next night we took a night train to Chaingmai where we have been for the past week and a half. This account is getting long enough so I will write more at a future date. Suffice it to say that we are happy to be back here, and taking life very slow. Just what ‘the doctor’ ordered.
After much encouragement by many of you, I hope to write more accounts of our experience here. As we don’t plan on doing an extensive amount of travelling, they will probably be in the form of vignettes of impressions of a different way of life. I’m in the process of setting up several connected blog sites, and will let you know about them once they are up and running. If you don’t want to be on this email list please let me know, and I will take you off.
While far away, Lucy and I love to keep our relationships alive and would love to hear from you. We look forward to old-fashioned personal letters (on email), as well as this group format. So we look forward to hearing from you if you wish, and we will certainly write back.
Keep well for now.
Regards from Ralph, and his sidekick, Lucy
posted by Ralph at 4:13 AM
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