The Illusion of Productivity

One of my highest values used to be productivity. I say "used to be" because I recently gave it up. And not for Lent. I gave it up for good. I will no longer allow myself to be hobbled by the illusion of productivity.

So what does productivity have to do with a travel blog? Everything, I believe. Or rather, nothing.

Travel is the spice of life. (Plus, this post needed a photo.)

 

Traveling for the sake of seeing and experiencing the world is by necessity not a practice in productivity. Although I sometimes see people take that approach. They make a list of places to see and they tick them off as quickly as possible.

I, too, am a list maker, type-A gal that I am. But when I'm traveling it is supremely difficult to decide when I've experienced enough of a place to check it off my list. "Been there, done that," are words I rarely utter. Instead I know I've only grazed the surface of the dozen or so countries we've visited this year. A few of them I deemed Places of No Return. That is, places I don't feel compelled to explore more. But I definitely don't think I know those places through and through. I hardly know my own backyard.*

When I was in Seattle this February for a short visit, several colleagues asked me how it feels to travel and not produce anything. And they weren't being rude. They too were eager to chuck "real life" and explore the world, but feared they'd feel lost without a daily purpose. I totally understand. I feared the same when we started this adventure.

I have always prided myself on being highly productive, a hard worker, strategic, a valuable employee and colleague. But the truth is, for all the hours and heartache I have poured into work, there are very few lasting impacts that I have made in my career. Sure, I have raised money for worthy organizations, helped people get to work and school, created compelling arguments for good causes and given 100% of myself almost every minute I've been on the clock. But in the grand scheme of life, my productivity has created only an illusion of success.

In the last 14 months of travel, I have created new friendships, improved my marriage, expanded my self-awareness and just enjoyed life. I have seen new places, explored distant horizons and tried things I never dared to dream of doing (like kiteboarding, living on a sail boat, and writing a first draft of a novel). I have spent this time enriching my life and finding happiness. And I've even had energy to do good things for others.

And you know what? People still seem to like me. They don't care that I haven't slaved away in front of a desk all day. Or that I have slept in at least every other day all year. They don't hate me for pursuing happiness or for abandoning my to-do lists. I still send cards on birthdays, tell my friends and family that I love them, and help Josh with the dishes and laundry.

At the end of the day, life is about so much more than being productive. And I'm thankful to have taken the plunge to discover what else awaits when I let go of western measures of success and follow my own path. If you take anything away from this blog, I hope it is the inspiration to follow your own heart--down whatever winding and rocky path it might lead you.

* Note: We will be working to expand our knowledge of our backyard--the US West--this spring. A road trip is in the works. More on that later.

Choosing Happiness

I choose happiness. Every day. And some days are harder than others.

 

Yes, you read that correctly. I do have hard days sometimes. While traveling. And not working. And generally living the life that many people dream of. And yet, sometimes I get in a funk.

 

But here's the secret.

 

I choose happiness. Every day.

 

And you can too.

 

That doesn't mean I pretend everything in the world is perfect. Let me clear--shit is not perfect.

 

But I can't change everything overnight. My magic wand has gone missing.

 

So instead, I choose to focus on the positive. To let myself be happy in a world full of pain and suffering. To be thankful for my health, my friends and family, the flowers blooming in the streets, the cuddly cats on YouTube, the AC in my rental house, the food in my frig, the ink in my drawing pen.

 

In chaotic times, I can control one thing: my choices. And I choose happiness.

 

I hope you will too.

 

Travel as an anecdote to stereotypes

We all have stereotypes about people and places, as much as we'd like to believe we don't. These stereotypes are intended to help us navigate a complex world, but in practice they often get in the way of actually experiencing it. For me, travel is one of the ways that I challenge the stereotypes that I've been fed. And when I strip away the stereotypes, I find that life is much less stressful and infinitely more delightful.

I don't know why, but I am obsessed with bathrooms (here and here). Perhaps it is because I use them every day and as much as I'd rather forgo the experience sometimes, I cannot get by without them.

At home in Seattle, bathrooms seem relatively predictable. I know there will be a western-style toilet with a built-in flusher, that I'll find free toilet paper, and there will be a sink with soap and something to dry my hands. And yet even though this is my stereotypical American bathroom, not all bathrooms back home are the same:

• Some toilets automatically flush, while others have a handle or button to press.
• Some sinks turn on when you wave your hand underneath, while others you turn on with a lever or press a button to dispense a set amount of water.
• And some bathrooms have paper towels on a roll or as individual sheets, while others offer a "greener" air dryer in one of several form factors. (My favorite is the one where you insert your hands and slowly pull them out while watching the water droplets fling into the abyss.)

But for me, all these differences meld into a single stereotype of a western (or normal) bathroom. And this predictably is soothing. I never stress about going to the bathroom back home, but having to pee in a new place abroad used to give me nightmares.

After years of foreign travel, I have come to expect different sorts of bathrooms in different places. In Asia, I expect a squat toilet with no toilet paper and a sink with no soap or way to dry my hands. In airports, I expect toilet paper and soap, but no towels and the occasional automated flusher and/or sink system. In Europe, toilets generally have two flush options (half or whole). In the backcountry of New Zealand and rural places throughout the world, I expect pit toilets with or without toilet paper and sans handwashing facilities. In Bali, I expect a western style toilet that you have to flush by pouring a bucket full of water into the loo and a trash can for your used TP, which may or may not be provided.

But the reality of a place rarely conforms to my expectations, even in the bathroom. Sometimes the bathrooms in Thailand have both western and squat style toilets, you just have to peek your head into each stall to find the type you prefer. And sometimes there is TP, it's just dispensed from a single roll outside the stalls so you have grab it in advance. Other times there is a bidet nozzle (which I still can't figure out how to use properly despite reading more than how-to article online). Occasionally the toilet has a working flusher, while other bathrooms provide a small bucket floating in a larger bucket of water for you to do the job.

But despite all these differences within Thailand and around the world, essentially all bathrooms are the same. A bathroom is a place where you relieve yourself regardless of how clean or dirty, well-appointed or lacking, the facility is. And yet, we persist in keeping stereotypes about western versus Asian bathrooms, airport versus gas station toilets and all the other varieties out there. And I wonder why we even bother since our stereotypes are the exception more often than the rule.

And it's not just erroneous stereotypes about bathrooms we hold tightly. It's stereotypes about people and entire countries that we believe, often to our detriment.

A friend of mine recently got a massage here in Thailand and concluded that all Thai massage places lack massage tables with head holes. Instead of asking for a different table, he just suffered in silence as his neck cricked up during a 90-minute back massage. When he mentioned the inadequacy of massage tables here, I informed him that some of the tables do have head holes. He was simultaneously annoyed and relieved. For his next massage, he requested a table with a head hole and was much happier.

Another time, I expected the Thai waitress at my favorite coffee shop understood my English when I asked for fried rice with pork. When I was brought fried rice with prawns, I started to protest only to back down and accept the dish as it had been prepared. The reality is that I'm in Thailand and I can't speak the local language to save my life. So when the waitress doesn't know what I want, it's my problem not hers. And yet often times, Thai people do speak good English and I can get by just fine with my three Thai phrases.

But the worst stereotypes aren't about bathrooms, massage tables or language comprehension. The worst stereotypes are those that stop you from experiencing new people and places. A few months ago I met a Nigerian magistrate (judge) on a flight from China to New Zealand. She told me that she is terrified to come to the USA because she thinks she will be shot (so many people are murdered with guns there, she informed me). I, on the other hand, am afraid to go to Nigeria for fear of being kidnapped by warlords. Had it not been for our side-by-side seats on this flight, I would never had met such an inspiring woman. And the news media does nothing to undo our stereotypes, more often than not reinforcing our inaccurate perceptions, and the result is that we miss the opportunity to form friendships with amazing people who live in places we never visit.

When traveling in developing countries, I know so many people who won't eat fresh produce even if its part of a local speciality. I understand that no one likes to get sick, but I had a rude awakening the other day when a Thai friend and restaurant owner was teaching me to make her signature papaya salad. I had put too much garlic in the bowl and reached in with my hand to fish some out. She scolded me for not using a spoon and contaminating the food with my hands. Who knew that my food hygiene was subpar? Luckily, the papaya salad didn't make me sick and I got to enjoy very fresh vegetables despite being in a country with unsafe tap water.

The reality for me is that every place is different, not just that countries are different from each other, but that people and places within each country do not conform to a single stereotype. Some Thai people speak good English, others do not. Some Balinese motorcyclists drive fast and run red lights, while others drive fast but obey traffic signals, and a few drive slow enough that I can pass them. Some western travelers are entitled assholes; some are kind and generous. Some hole-in-the-wall restaurants serve food that makes me sick and others have better sanitary practices than I do.

When I accept that I cannot predict how things will be, I find that I am less stressed out by the wackiness that is this beautiful world. And instead I have the mental space to learn new things, enjoying meeting new people and savor new experiences. I also have developed new coping mechanisms to deal with life's uncertainty. Now when I walk into a bathroom, I come prepared. I carry tissues that I can use as TP, I know to look for the free TP dispensers outside stalls, I peek into the stalls to see if a western flush toilet is an option, I check out the trash bin to see if others have flushed their TP, and when all else fails and the outdoor toilet is disgusting, I pop behind it and pee in the dirt like I'm backpacking. I try not to sweat the small stuff and I accept that sometimes I won't be able to wash my hands after using the loo, occasionally I will get sick from eating something delicious, and I will meet strangers who speak perfect English and think I live in the scariest place on the planet.

My hope for you (who have braved this long post) is that you will leave your stereotypes behind and experience a new place or take a chance on a new person. And perhaps you will find that life is not as scary as you once thought.

Piggy Goes to Market

Okay not Piggy perse, but rather a bunch of hungry farang (foreigners) accompanied by two Thai locals. Our friend Om, our favorite barkeep, set up a Thai cooking class for us with a chef from Aleenta, an expensive restuarant on the beach of Pak Nam Pran.

First stop on our cooking adventure was Om's bar where we picked the three dishes we'd learn to make: Green Curry with Seafood, Massaman Curry with Chicken, and Tom Kha Gai soup.

The next stop was the local market where we bought our ingredients and some snacks too!

Om picking out the best (read: most transculent) squid for our green curry, as Josh looks on.

Mags, Paul and I with our Thai chef stocking up on fresh produce.

Can you say spicy? I always ask for dishes my pet (not spicy).

Fresh morning glory greens are incredibly delicious!

Ready-made curries may seem like cheating but even the nicer restaurants do it.

U-pick shrimps, head and all.

Scooters parked like sardines outside the market stalls.

Juicy pineapple ready to be snacked on.

Weird meat popsicles? I'll pass, thank you very much!

My preferred snack: fresh strawberries coated in sugar and something red.

10 baht (30 US cents) for this luscious bag of tomatoes.

It wouldn't be Southeast Asia if there weren't whole fish starring in you in the face....

Or raw chicken dripping its salmonella-infested juices into a bucket....

But when you can get a bouquet of beautiful orchids for 50 cents from a smiling woman, there's no reason not to love the market!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home Sweet Home

We have been travelling now for more than year and while perhaps I should be homesick, I am not. In fact, sometimes I feel like I'm home even when I'm far from Seattle.

Home for me seems now to be the places where people and customs are familiar. I don't have a physical home anymore, as we sold our house last year. And while our belongings are mostly stored in Seattle, we have things scattered across the US West.

Arriving in Pak Nam Pran, Thailand the other night it was dark, the streets were vacant, and all was quiet. And yet when I stepped off the bus, our good friend Brad was there ready to help unload our many bags from the bus as if this was a normal occurrence. Riding to our rental house in a familiar neighborhood, I didn't even notice that we were on the left side of the road.

The next evening while riding on the back of Josh's motorbike at night, I reminded him to watch out for stray dogs in the road; a fact of life in Thailand that seems to be embedded deep in my subconscious. And although our friend's bar has relocated after a tree fell on it and then it later burnt to the ground, her new bar feels like home too. She gives me a big hug when we roll up and we promise to get drunk together at least once this season. I order my favorite Thai drink--Sang Som (rum) and Manae (lime soda)--and Josh gets his (Sang Som and soda water).

I remember that 7-11 is the place to get "top up" (phone credits) for my Thai SIM card and I remember to thank the clerk with a "Kob Khun Kah." I also know how to get to my favorite coffee place, which sadly seems to have a different--less skilled--chef this year so my typical fried pork and rice breakfast is less than superb. I recognize the Thai massage place where they are a little too touchy-freely for my taste and delight in seeing the seaside massage stand still standing, knowing that I can get an incredible massage there for just $10US.

Driving on the left side of the road now seems more comfortable than being on the right. When I was in the States a few weeks ago, I was terrified to find the car on the right side of the road and had to stop myself from yelling at the taxi driver in fright. But riding my scooter is a breeze and I'm happy for the free AC while I ride around town.

There is something special about returning to a place and feeling at home, especially when you've only lived there for a short amount of your life. And while we will leave Thailand again in a few weeks, I know we will return here many more times in our life.

Underwater monsters

Bitten by a fish. Stung by jellies. Attacked by a bristle worm. Our underwater adventures took a decidedly dangerous turn this February as we returned to Thailand. And also an incredibly beautiful one.

Last week Josh and I lived aboard Wicked Diving's M/V Mariner based out of Khao Lak about an hour north of party town Phuket. Our dive time was split between the Surin Islands and Similan Islands, both top dive spots in Southeast Asia and new haunts for us. In the big blue ocean we spotted dozens of giant moray eels, plenty of octopus, school upon school of yellow and blue and silvery fishes, long skinny trumpetfish, and acres of colorful corals.

Josh also got into an altercation with a mean old Titan Triggerfish. Triggerfish are very territorial, especially when they have a nest of eggs. This is their nesting season and we got unlucky when I unknowingly floated over the nest, angering a two-foot long mama or papa triggerfish. A whooshing feeling on my leg was the first indication of something of gone awry. The next was a large eyed fish starring me down as it charged towards me. I turned and swam in the opposite direction, fortunately away from its nest. Josh, meanwhile, just looked on in awe as the triggerfish swam full speed in his direction. For some reason, Josh was convinced the fish would turn away at the last minute, a game of chicken of the sea I guess. But, alas, the triggerfish had other intentions and slammed into Josh's bicep, taking a bite out of his wetsuit and a leaving bloody teeth marks on his arm. I watched it all happen, too shocked to intervene. Happily, triggerfish bites are not poisonous. So while Josh lost a bit of his arm that day, we were able to continue the dive and just smear some neosporin on his arm when we returned to the boat.

Then they were the jellyfish on the surface. As we bobbed along awaiting retrieval by the boat after another dive, a current filled with jellyfish mangled in the boat's prop flowed towards me. I was getting stung repeatedly and it turns out so were other divers in group. By the time I climbed back on board, I had a series of bumps the size of a #2 pencil eraser all up and down my arms and legs. And that was the end of my shortie wetsuit dives. From then on out, I covered myself head to toe with neoprene and polypro and delighted in admiring the jellyfish without getting stung.

On our last night dive, Josh and I discovered a new type of sea worm, one that is drawn to the light, glows with iridescence and is covered in tiny spines like a cactus. As we swam along, holding hands and searching for the red reflective eyes of crabs, shrimp and lobsters in the dark, this evil little creature drifted down from the surface into our clutched hands. I was oblivious, cloaked in long sleeves, but Josh thought the weird sensation in his hand was my wedding ring drifting away. Sweet man that he is, he grabbed at it only to be stung by a hundred microscopic thorns which embedded themselves into the palm of his hand as the bristle worm attempted to flee its captor. In the scuffle the worm landed on the back of Josh's leg, which he then grabbed at resulting in more pricks to his hand. Eventually Josh got free of the two-inch tiny bugger and was able to dislodge most of the spines from his hand before we continued our dive. Later I spotted a second one drifting down from the surface. When it landed on a rock, it curled into a ball, then laid flat with its spines folded down. It reminded me of a porcupine or hedgehog, except underwater and not nearly so cute!

The highlight of our dive trip was seeing a manta ray at Koh Bon. Although we later learned it was small compared to some of the other mantas our dive master had previously seen, I was awestruck by its immensity. With wings spanning more than 12 feet, the manta glided through the waters back and forth, up and down, giving us quite the show! One of our fellow divers (Peter from Germany) took some incredible photos of the manta ray and is letting us share them here. Enjoy!

Massive manta ray surrounded by schooling fish. (Photo by Peter)

Mantas are so majestic. We were giddy with excitement to see one on our last dive! (Photo by Peter)

A Titan Triggerfish nibbling on the hard coral, rather than Josh's arm. (Photo by Peter)

Pretty coral and jagged clamshell.

So many fish!

Tomato clownfish among the obscenely shaped sea anemones.

Tiny fish on colorful lichen-like hard coral. I love the colors underwater!

Sea cucumber with its ruffly black feeler thingies (technical term, I swear!)

Josh showing off his bouyancy skills. Did I mention that he flew me like a kite when I was underweighted? At least one of us is good with bouyancy.

One of many creepy giant moray eels we saw. (Photo by Peter)

Believe it or not, there is an octopus in this picture. No matter how many I see, I am still amazed at the way they change colors and textures to blend in with the rocks.

Least you think we lived under the sea, here's a cool shot of our dive boat and home for 6 days. (Photo by Peter)

 

A Traveling Ludite

I remember the first time I heard the term "Ludite." One of my all-time favorite bosses and I woman who I greatly admire used the word to refer to her challenges with adapting to new technology. I remember laughing at the phrase, thinking to myself that technology wasn't such a big deal. Now I know that I too am a Ludite. Or perhaps, a Ludite-lite.

Josh has always been the techie one in our partnership. At home, he was in charge of setting up our wifi and connecting our complicated TV/stereo/projector system. He also installed fancy light switches for us with different buttons corresponding to various lighting combinations, most of which were labelled inaccurately leading me to push every button until I could turn on my desired appliance. Still, I didn't truly embrace the notion of being a Ludite until a few months into our travels.

Technology and travel go hand in hand these days. We can check-in for flights and get boarding passes that live on our cell phones. We buy SIM cards for our unlocked iPhones and top up on prepaid calling and data plans in each new locale. We even get our paper mail delivered to us via the internet. And yet when things don't work seamlessly, I lose my shit.

Like the time I was making a photo collage of our travels in Tonga to send to my nieces and nephew. Inexplicably the app on my iPad decided to flip one of photos upside down. Just one photo, mind you. It was crazy-making. What should have taken a few minutes took more than an hour as I tried to outsmart my cranky app. Finally I succeeded in sending the postcard via Postagram, but I was convinced that technology hates me.

On several occasions, my blogging app Blogsy has spontaneously deleted an entire post as I tried to fix a one last grammatical error before publishing. After nearly a year of using the app, I finally discovered -- inadvertently -- that it saves my revisions within the app, allowing me to revert to an older version with a single click. If only I had figured this trick out before retyping several blog posts by memory and with no shortage of swear words.

Each time Apple releases a new iOS, I am confounded by the prospect of updating all my apps. I lament the fact that some of my apps will no longer work on the iPhone 3 which I got second hand from a friend. Google Hangouts, my favorite app for calling the US while abroad, won't work on my phone anymore. And although another sweet friend has given me an iPhone 4, I can't use it until Josh sets it up for me lest I go mad trying to do so myself.

And as for my technology working together to make my life easier, I'm certain that is just a fantasy. I had a fitbit that I couldn't get to sync with my iPad. Luckily I lost it less than two months into our travels so I am no longer frustrated with its complexity packaged in a small lime green smiling robot. My iPad takes ages to import photos from my camera's SD card, for which I finally bought a special adapter so I could stop using Josh's laptop and email as an intermediary. That is to say, when you see photos on my blog posts just know I have spent too much time transferring them to my device and then uploading them to the internet.

Speaking of internet, man it is slow in some countries. I often have to practice deep breathing techniques as I wait for email to load, and Facebook can be impossible. Videos are out of the question and when I accidently click on one it can cause my iPad to crash when I'm connected to shaky wifi. There are times when I wish wifi wasn't available just so I could escape the frustration of having it barely work.

For someone who loves to create graphics, write blogs and stay connected with friends and loved ones over the internet, I am in no way, shape or form good with technology. I muddle along because I cannot escape the reach of technology, nor can I ignore its usefulness even when a simple task takes me ten times longer than it should. Still, I draw the line at Twitter, Instagram and Reddit. There are just some things that this Ludite isn't ready to adopt, no matter how cool they seem.