Great Wall

Great Wall – In China, it takes patience to get things done.

 Since I wanted to go with a travel group to the Great Wall, I followed the Lonely Planet online guide to buy real government sponsored tickets.

The ticket office I went to sold tickets for one of the Heavenly Gates on Tiananmen Square. It’s legit. I buy the gate ticket, I see the gate. In order to get in this area, there is security. At the same office, I bought a great wall package that includes a wakeup call at 5:30am to see the flag raising at 6am and a visit to Simati, a part of the Great Wall that is less touristy.  

I get two calls the night before. One guy saying he’ll pick me up at 5:30am, which is right in line with what I purchased from the ticket office. An English speaking tour guide calls at midnight saying she’ll pick me up at 8am. I tell her that’s confusing. She says she’ll call the ticket office to clarify for me. I wait 20 minutes – no call.  I try calling the number on my ticket. No one picks up. I call the tour guide back, she says she’s just a tour guide and to talk to the office….

In the morning, at 5:30am I get a wake up call. At 6am while I am in the lobby, the tour guide calls again and asks me if I’m going to Badaling. I say no – I’m going to Simati. I do not want to go to Badaling since I’ve heard it’s over crowded with Chinese tourists.  I told him I paid extra for this part of the wall. He is shocked I’ve already paid and says he’s no longer going to pick me up. What?!?!?!! It’s my last day in China – how else am I going to get there?

Confused, I call the number on my ticket. A lady answer then a man answers in sleepy incomprehensible Chinese and mumbles something about English tour guide.

10 minutes later the English speaking tour guide calls and says she’ll be there at 8am. WTF? Why I am up at 5:30am in the morning then? Why did the ticket office promise to take me to see the raising of the flag?

At 8am, I get on the bus. After 20 mins on the bus, I hand over my ticket. The English speaking tour guide, Tina, says that I’m on the wrong bus. This bus is not going to Simati! In fact, Simati has been closed for 2 months!

Tina asks how I got on the bus.   I ask how she got my number.  She says from the ticket office – I say well, I paid for that ticket.

She offers to drop me off the tour group so I can take a bus to go to Simati….Errr…didn’t she just say that Simati was closed??!?!?! Why would I take a bus to a part of the Great Wall that is closed?!!?!?!

I told her no way – I have no idea how to get to the other areas of the wall on my own without my Beijing guide book! She asks me if I want to go tomorrow. I tell her no – today is my last day Beijing. If I don’t go today I won’t see it.

Then we both agree that I should just stay on this bus. Very very confusing.

The ticket office completely promised me so many invalid statements just to get the sale. This was from an official government ticket office too!

 On the random plus side, my trip was 310 RMB – the usual price was 350 RMB.

 Finally, I went to the Great Wall – it was great. We only had 2 hours – I would have liked to hang out more but with the rain, that was enough. We also stopped by a tomb (cool), a jade store (interesting but tourist trap), and a tea tasting session (free samples! but also a major overpriced tourist trap)  

Ahhhh…Chinese tour groups…

Morale of the story: Try to do things yourself in China. For tour groups, go through your hotel.  Have a good attitude. Take lots of pictures at the Wall. You earned it.

Finding Rhythm in Mysore

Yay! Ngoce and I said in unison as the electricity came back on in our little room at Bheemashakti Yoga Center. (Since our arrival, it's happened a few times where the electricity and the water is shut off for maybe 5-10 minutes at a time. No big deal!) Yesterday after our two hour session and dinner, we came back to our room to rest, shower, read. Instead we had no power and no water so we went out for a quick stroll instead. We came back and the electricity was still not back on and so we waited. Our usual 5-10 minute wait was more like 30-40 minutes this time around!

When it did finally come back on, we both cheered! Happy we felt for this little simple thing that we so easily take for granted back home. And here, you just never know... as it is pretty common and quick to return. You just have to wait and see. Ahh the simple things...

The other thought I had was that in countries where poverty is prevalent, social morale is interesting. To me, I feel that the people here are content - at least from a visitor's view from afar. It seems that every night there is some sort of celebration. Hindu chants and drumming fills the night air. Firecrackers bursting and jolting life into me. Seriously every time those suckers go off, I literally jump out of my skin! Song and dance in the streets. Nights filled with raging sound speakers with an array of Michael Jackson, old school new wave, and your favorite local karaoke super stars busting some Indian inspired track. Merriment is bursting at the seam.

Seriously, the days are rich here... in the mornings as we sit in meditation and the streets are quiet, I can feel Mysore waking to the sunrise. The motorbikes and car horns begin to sound, smoke from chimneys are coloring the skies, and the buzz of people leaving their homes to start their day fills my lungs as we breathe. This buzz continues throughout the day and grows stronger, always constant. Pleasure is manifested as people interact over chai or fresh young coconuts at the well known coconut stand (that is used as a directional reference point). The common and ambiguous head wobble is exchanged between friends and strangers alike.

Then as the sun sets, we begin to hear the chanting, the drumming. In good tidings for their Hindu deities like Ganesh, protector god of new beginnings and all things auspicious. The town comes into full life at night. People line the small stalls selling its goods, snacks like puri are eaten at the street corners as its being prepared, ladies dressed in pretty saris visit temples and make offereings. People of all ages are out and about every night. This is just not the same back home where people retire to their homes, tucked away in their quiet corners. Blanketed by television and the world wide web. Effortless isolation.

This city of Mysore, Gokulam to be exact - even though just my first city in India to visit, I feel, is SO alive. Its heart beating. Soft and slow beats as the sun rises. Full and robust as the sun falls and the moon shines upon its liveliest state, where there is no work just play. Then in the late hours it will rest and again it rises the next day with the same gusto. Bustling along with no desire to be any different from the day before. This city, its heart beats steadily.

Like Suresh said in one of his teachings, our bodies has a rhythm - we rise with the sun and rest as it sets. As we are learning to find our own rhythm, this city already knows its rhythm intimately... confidently. This is its way of life. Understood. Accepted. Bountiful.


[Photo caption: Aerial of 9th Cross Road on a Thursday night at 8pm. A temporary stage is built for tonight's performances right on the street. People are sitting and standing nearby to watch as cars and motorbikes drive past. This will probably continue until 10pm or so.]

Boat People

Why do we feel a need to know where we came from?

Yesterday I finally visited my birthplace in the Galang Islands of Indonesia.

But the story starts 3 decades ago when my family fled Vietnam on a boat, landing at a refugee camp in the Galang Islands. My parents, aunts, and uncles stayed at the camp for a year before getting sponsorship and documents to become American citizens. During this year, I was conceived and born.

And yesterday, I stood back in the place where I arrived on this Earth. A place where nearly a hundred thousand refugees waited for a golden passport to an unknown but more promising life than the dark future they left behind.

After taking a ferry from Singapore to the more populated Batam Islands in Indonesia, my friends and I were driven over 4 bridges before making our way to Galang. We only had to tell our driver, "Galang" and "Vietnam", and he knew where to take us. Surprisingly, there were many Indonesian tourists at the former camp.

Upon arriving at the temple (dedicated to the Goddess of Mercy) at the entrance gate, a monk came out to greet me. His first words to me were, “Vietnam”, as he pointed to me. He knew I was a baby of the camp and that I was back to reclaim a piece of my past. He then guided me through an incense prayer, and led me to a wall filled with photos, where he showed me part of my family’s history. This monk played an important role in the Galang refugee camp, and continues to oversee it until this day. Today, it is a site where tourists, former refugees, and their families come to visit.

I can not thank him enough for his kindness that day, and for being a connection to the past I came to see.

That day, I saw the boats that the refugees fled their homeland in to reach the shores of the camps. I saw the remnants of the units that housed them, and remembered that my parents, grandpa, and 8 aunts and uncles fit in one unit. I stood in each place and imagined what life was like 30 years ago. How did the people/my family feel on the boat as they crossed a vast ocean of darkness and unknown? What did they do if there wasn’t enough food to eat? I looked at a hill nearby, and recalled my aunt telling me her memory of hiking to the top to get the freshest supply of drinking water for the family. Somewhere in my being, I probably felt what my mother felt while I was in her womb, but yesterday, I could only imagine.

The original Red Cross Hospital building I was born in no longer exists. But the monk rebuilt a second one at the same site. As I stood there, I scanned the crumbling replacement building, and searched for where exactly I may have been born. I pondered why my soul decided to be reborn on this island and under these circumstances. I didn’t care about answers, I was just happy to wonder and felt blessed to be alive.

There were some that did not make the journey. At the cemetery, there was a quote in honor of them:

"Dedicated to the lives of those who died in the sea on the way to freedom"

I cried.

Why do we feel a need to know where we came from? Coming to Galang, I was in search of understanding my family’s history. I learned that I come from a place where my parents hoped and dreamed for a better future for their children. I was born from the hopes, dreams, and love of my parents, and all the other refugees who risked their lives for freedom.

Bali magic

Bali's heart beats water through It's veins
with bones of thousand year old stones
and skin of lush green, adorned with flowers
When It is loud,
It speaks with a breath of damp, heavy air
but mostly,
It sighs with a cool breath from It's Indian Ocean sister

It sees us
I see It

Temples of stone float magically atop water and cliffs
          meditating quietly at night
          while sleeping with one eye open during day
          to lazily gaze the flocking tourists in light
Poetic intricacies of fingers and black-lined eyes
          move to the golden bamboo sounds of Balinese music
Mystical incense wafting in air
Flower offerings blossom from banana leaf pouches
Everywhere warm brown skin glow with sun
The water gods send crashing waves to Bali's shores
          to beckon of their magic
          warn of their power

She sees us
I see Her

Beneath the resorts and stores and planted palm trees
Beneath the painted vision of paradise
Her blood of water becomes tears
She cries softly

Her soul is so beautiful.

Feeling Blessed

In the last few months, weeks, and days before this trip, I found myself so "busy" and I thought to myself how easy it was in the midst of our lives to allow this "busy" to fill our days. In this particular moment for me, this reality was very clear and I made it a point to not let it consume me. Even though I had a lot to do and take care of before I left, I really wanted to spend time with friends and family. Simply soak in whatever quality time I can get.

The realization that my path will soon lead me to a new city upon my return really began to take hold. Not only will I be leaving for this 3 month trip, I will return to something completely different from what I have called home for the last few years. Yes, I have been craving for this fresh start... because my time in LA has been a chapter that has presented many challenges to me, some that I have overcome and others that will continue to test me...

But for now in this moment, as this chapter comes to an end, certain thoughts have resonated with me... it is so easy to take for granted the people in our lives when our days are filled the "busy." This dawned on me as I was having to say my goodbyes and farewells... I guess something about an ending, a closing, or a conclusion makes you realize that whatever it is -- you may never return to the same exact moment in time or exact same experience ever again because that is simply how life is. Always flowing, always changing... and because of this I pause and reflect so that I can appreciate. The other realization is why wait to count your blessings. Why wait til you meet an ending to something before you tell the people in my life how important they are to you? But I hope to try harder. Because you can never predict what life will be like.

Such as my unexpected friendships I have made in LA, these friends have given me with sweet colorful memories in a chapter that I felt was very gray and sometimes even dark. I know that I am lucky to have met such good people that have become really good friends to me. I know it cheesy to say, but these friends have truly given me joy and filled my days with sunshine. I am grateful for that.

Then there are my dearest and oldest friends, whom have been there for me always... this is foundation. The support that I can always rely on gives me the stability that I need. Strength I can draw from and security that allows me to push beyond my limits.

Finally my family, the unconditional love. Regardless of my past mistakes or my decisions moving forward, they still feed me! :) I know they love me in the quiet unspoken ways that is my family. My uncle and aunt even tried to give me some money, but really the only gift I needed was the awkward embrace I walked away with.

Why is it so awkward and so hard sometimes to tell the people you care about how much they really mean to you. I don't know. But I do know I need to try harder and not let the "busy" get in the way of spending more of my waking hours with the relationships I cherish most. And try even harder to express and share with them the appreciation I hold for them in my heart.