Sanbano!
Alright, most of you know the drill, for those of you new to this – you’ll want to print this one out, grab a drink, sit back, relax – like ta hear it? Hear it go….
Mongolia – the final frontier! I landed in the cold embrace of spring time in Mongolia which feels like winter to anyone else in their right mind or with a low fat content in their diet. The wind chill made it feel like zero degrees and as I bundled up to leave the airport I saw short stocky Mongolians wearing only suit jackets and the like. Perhaps for the first time I realized that my 6’2,” (BEEP) pound, solid stature was in fact quite fragile!
I’m fragile!!
The brisk night air enveloped me, I took a deep breath in appreciation of the fresh country air, and then promptly dove my fragile ass into the nearest heated vehicle. The long stretch of road leading from the airport to the city is quite barren with the occasion Mongolian on foot braving the night’s temperatures. The road continues on with very few cars and slowly gives way to a few structures, shacks, then gas stations, then grows and expands to a few buildings. You then drive under an elaborate, tall gateway structure above the road which officially welcomes you to Ulaanbaatar, or red hero, named after their national hero who liberated Mongolia from Chinese rule and summoned the Soviet red army for support some 80 years ago.
Soviet influence remains permeated throughout the city’s center as the drab communist architecture creates eye sore after eye sore in a massive homogenous and equitable construction of gray concrete overflowing in every direction. Massive rectangular structures adorn every block, and almost every piece of real estate has been devoured so that very few blades of grass and even less tress have survived the cities’ expansion to accommodate its population. It holds the largest concentration of people in a country of roughly 2 million inhabitants. Indeed, the population is small for such a large land mass, but this ain’t Bangladesh where the heat and humidity, spices, foods, music, drumming, dancing, and hard labor just make all hot and heated and sweaty and ready to……..….do……….things. All KINDS of………things!!
Yes indeedy……
What OH, excuse me – yes, it’s too damn COLD to get naked and procreate!!! Oh HAIL NO! Living out in the countryside in your little round tent, or ger, you wrap yourself in blankets and animal fur and don’t move till morning when you light a fire again to thaw out!
And though the history is fascinating and the people extraordinary, which we could talk about at great length, today I just wanted to share with you my average Sunday in Mongolia.
I woke up this past Sunday morning and crept out from under my 4 blankets to the window which revealed a snow covered city that had not been there the night before. I looked longingly at my bed and prepared to dive back in and burrow myself for the next 24 hours.
BUT NO! I must be strong, I had planned to go horseback riding in the country with some friends and knowing my crazy upcoming schedule with work, I knew I should take advantage of any opportunity to enjoy myself. The wind howled angrily in response to my thoughts and beat against my window. Threw squinted eyes and clenched teeth I muttered several curses as I made my way to the shower.
MUST BE STRONG!
A quick weather check revealed that the temperature to be a balmy 5 degrees Fahrenheit with wind chills from – 10 to – 17 and would drop to 0 degrees that night. Ahhhh, springtime in Mongolia.
I have GOT to get a new job!!!!
Evil thoughts crept in my head - maybe my friends would cancel? Damnit all, they’ve been in Mongolia too long which has frozen every bit of sense they had left. Maybe I should just call and cancel?? The wind howled in bitter temptation!!
NO! NO! I will be strong!! It will be fun! Yeah! Yeah, that’s it!
I dressed - jeans, two long sleeve layers, two turtlenecks, a cashmere sweater, a wool sweater, a down coat, two alpaca wool hats, two pairs of gloves, 3 pairs of wool socks, lined boots, and a wool scarf – check! I was borrowing a pair of thick long johns from a friend later. Right then, I’m off!
Outside it didn’t actually seem that bad, forgetting of course that I was in the sun, had a ridiculous amount of clothes on, and was protected from the ravenous winds by the safety of the city’s structures. I met my friends for a quit breakfast and a warm drink and we were off in a little city car that could be compared to a little Mazda 4-door. The two navigating Mongolians in the front, and my two friends and myself “cozy” in the back.
Past the city’s center, more dilapidated structures take root, the factories and industries release smoke into the air blanketing the city, and a most intricate piping system reveals itself. Massive pipes of many sizes weave their way above and below ground and look like they can’t possibly still be standing. The Russians built a centralized heating system and hot water is actually heated at a central plant and then piped hot throughout the entire city into every home – fascinating when you consider the climate of Mongolia. If the plant is not working, ain’t no hot water for anyone! It also explains the slight rusty smell of the water.
The industry areas give way to the ger districts, or the tent cities, that have embedded themselves in a sprawling mass at the cities outskirts. Thousands migrated to the city in search of survival after hard winters that killed their herds and crops, after poor land privatization policies that have pushed some people off their ancestral lands, or after farmers and herders were forced to leave their land after environmental damage from mining has destroyed their rivers and herding grounds. The reasons abound.
Beyond the ger districts lies the open road, a single road heading into the vast countryside of Mongolia. The landscapes of Mongolia are diverse and mystifying – from deserts to forests, gently rolling grasslands (the steppes) to mountain ranges, from immense rivers and lakes to lands bordering Siberia. We drove by breathtaking mountain ranges covered with snow, the light hitting them in such a way that that the jagged rocks dramatically cast striking shadows, and the sunlight leapt in and out of the crevasses creating a majestic view that was simply hypnotizing.
The mountains eventually retreated back into the earth, and wide open plains took their place, spreading out in every direction and covered with dust and a pale yellow grass thirsty for water and summer. I kept using my hand to clear off the window that very few minutes kept converting my body heat and breath into a thin layer of ice blocking my view. We drove through open plains for miles and miles often without seeing a single soul or sign of life, except for the occasional ovoo, shamanistic symbols throughout the country of a praying mound of rocks with a large stick in the middle adorned with sacred blue prayer scarfs. It is customary with walk around it clockwise three times and throw three rocks or leave items symbolizing what you are praying for.
I was lookin-WHACK!!!! Our friend driving hit a massive bump in the road which caused me to my head to slam into the roof!! “Oh sorry,” giggled the Mongolian who was driving like a maniac, “No shocks.” Greeeeeeeeeat, as I’m stuck in the backseat, my Filipino friend, Eve, sitting next to me was safe from harm with her 5’3” frame. My British friend, Will, also over 6 feet was not so lucky as he rubbed his own head wound. Were we only suppose to be traveling an hour out of the city, but plans changed last minute and we were now going to visit a herding family supposedly 3 hours away. It’s fine, I go with the flow - as long as this chick drives a little better!!
“WATCH OUT!!!” yelled Will and I instinctively ducked down and covered my head as we sped over another bump causing our Mongolian friend Enkee to giggle with glee. I used all my conflict resolution skills not to smack her in the back of the head!! DOWN AISHA! Down!!
I am not a pacifist!
---------------------------------INTERMISSION------------------------------------------
From time to time there were herds of horses or cattle grazing in the plains or near a rolling hill – signs of life and a ger hidden somewhere, but we drove on. My day-dreaming in the car jarred into a harsh reality check as we hit a colossal mining site, a disgusting looming area of destruction with massive amounts of ground unearthed to get to the precious gold underneath. And though I couldn’t see it, I knew there must be a river on the other side that had once flowed freely through these plains and was now damned up by the mine leaving the plains, the herds and the people thirsty for their natural right. This is part of the human rights abuses that I’m here working on– but we will save that for another time.
Eve sees another praying mound, it seems to be a rather popular one and there are a lot of offerings around the mound, she insists that we stop so that I may walk around it 3 times clockwise to pray and for good karama.
“Oh NO!” I say as I see the winds howling looking to devour any fool that leaves their shelter. “I’ve seen it on TV, good enough.”
She insists.
Damnit! We get out and the wind slaps me in the face, cuts through my jeans, beats against my back, my sides – I’m getting my ass kicked!! I’m screaming like a little girl on the inside, and trying to be tough on the outside as I make my way to the praying thing. Tears are streaming down my face from the wind and cold and I can barely see as I make a run for it 3 times around the damn mound covered with ice, praying for the gods to ward off hypothermia. I almost get hit by a lone car speeding down the road as I run across the street desperately seeking warmth and blinded by my steady stream of tears.
Past the mine we continued and off-roaded onto the dirt paths in search of a nomadic family – yes that IS at difficult as it sounds. The plains turned into rolling hills and the remnants of the river that struggled to survive was iced over, and then just to our right was a mass of birds over what could have only been a carcass. We took a closer look and dozens of massive eagle vultures we tearing away at a cow – they were beautiful and regal even in their frenzied feeding and naturally unattractive features. They spread their wings and shot us a look, claiming their meal as we drove by. The plains rose into rolling hills and 3 hours later we entered Hinti the ancient homeland of Chiggis Khan. We hit a turn in the road, Enkee took it at lightening speed and we all thought we were going to flip, her cousin then got behind the wheel cause “he knew the way” – thank you jesus!
We continue for a while and I sink back into oblivion watching the Mongolian landscape go by, thinking about everything and nothing at all. When I begin to notice that we’ve been driving in circles for a little while – hmmmmmmm! Finally, he stops driving in the middle of nowhere. Yes, yes it’s true that most of Mongolia is the middle of nowhere, aaaand that’s where we were.
I figure it was a bathroom break which I was dreading, it wasn’t so much the fact that it’s an open plain with nowhere to conceal yourself but more the fact of having to expose my ass to the brutal subzero temperatures. I’d been holding it for 2 hours now and was delusional about holding it all day.
Her cousin Zatzee turns around, looks at us sheepishly, and with his limited English says, “No address. Only mountains.”
“Adventura,” he says, “Italian.”
Ha! Indeed, my friend, it always is.
He stops to get his bearings, I’m trying to think of anything but the need to pee – STAY STRONG!!! Warm in car! Warm in car! We’re off again and stop 5 minutes later, all 3 of us cleverly yell out, “No Address!”
He says, “No. Car.”
“Cojones!” he says.
“WHAT?” I yell incredulously.
“Cojones, you know Espanol?” he asks.
I breakout into roars of laughter, and those of you who know my laugh know it’s quite hardy.
(Footnote: Cojones is the Spanish slang for balls or testicles)
I love the randomness of life!!
The car had overheated!! DAMN!! The benefit of sub zero wind chills? There are a few. He gets out and opens the hood, to let winter winds attend to our vehicle. My friends get out to stretch their legs, they open the door and the wind barrels through the car, I quickly close the door as soon as Eve’s leg clears the way. “Don’t you want to come?” they yell. I shoot them a look. They understand it’s meaning.
We’re off again, and stop again 10 minutes later, the car has over heated AGAIN…this can’t be good! And this becomes the pattern of the trip of the next 2 ½ hours. Drive for 15 minutes, stop let car cool, drive, stop, drive – MERCY! We’re also still driving back and forth trying to find where a family might have hidden their tents in the mountains to shield themselves from the bitter winter….riiiiiiiiiight!
We have now been driving for 5 ½ hours. That’s it!!! I can’t hold it any more, damn water drinking!! Eve needs to as well. We make a run for it, it’s too cold for me to care if anyone can see us, but my friend insists on being more proper – damnit! We find a deep ditch and attempt to squat but I almost fall into it, so sweet Eve stands above me so I can hold on to her leg so I don’t fall! Instant bonding indeed. I take a deep breath and expose my ass to the elements and a flurry of curses come flying out of my mouth. Eve cracks up!!
JESUS – I’m having stage fright cause it’s so COLD – this is a nightmare!!!!
Finally, mission accomplished, we run back to the car which happens to be against the bloody wind so it feels like I’m moving backwards!! My hair has whipped all around my head, there are tears streaming down my face, and my teeth are cold for the love of god!! We dive back into the car and we’re off – I should probably mention that it’s about 3:30 in the afternoon by now!
The car starts making a strange sound. We listen. We stop. We have a flat tire. Damn! This means I have to get out of the car!!! As this is a city car, he doesn’t even have a real spare, only a temporary one – that can NOT be good for the ride home now 6 hours away!! I brace myself and enter the cold – this stuff is seriously ridiculous!! And then I’m suppose to ride a horse and go faster?? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??!! Why didn’t I go back to bed??????!!!! I stand as the wind beats against me and for some reason I decide to open my eyes and there in front of me are the smaller Mongolian and Filipino girl comfortably shielded from the wind by ME!!!!!! They look up and smile. Everything is covered but my eyes so they can’t see my snarl but I squint at them in disgust!
SO NOT FAR!!!
We change the tire, we’re off. The then, THERE THEY ARE – 3 white tents in the distance – our destination!!!!
------------------------------------DRINK REFILL or NAP-----------------------------------
We arrive, how interesting that this is the drivers FAMILY????!!!
We’ve been taken for a serious RIDE cause this dude wanted to see his family!! At this point I’ve already shrugged my shoulders and surrendered to fate, so I just laughed!! We enter the ger his family greets us warmly. Zatzee tells them that we’ve just driven 6 hours to go horseback riding. They look at us like we’re crazy – Mongolians are smart.
But it’s really cold, and very windy, why would you want to ride today – someone translates. Hehehe, JUST GET THE DAMN HORSES I scream in my head as I resist the urge to stick my feet IN the fire to get a little warmth! Two men leave to round up some horses, I go to the car and try to put on my friends long johns. Now everyone is outside, I’m flailing in the back seat trying to maneuver taking off my freshly washed and dryed jeans (DOH!) with a ton of layers on my top, in a small car with a big body– this was a good idea. Some Mongolians notice some commotion in the car and curiously walk over, for a moment I freeze my jeans are off – what to do? Then the cold against my exposed skin smacks some sense into me – it’s COLD, I’m on a mission to get warmer. This is what a big ass looks like my little Mongolian friends! Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!!
Somehow I succeed and feel SO much warmer, I’m happy! Until, I go back outside again! By now the clouds had moved in, so there was no sun, and no city buildings to block the wind – I have not the words to describe to you what that cold felt like. Enkee gives me her thick, wind proof down vest – I happily add that baby to my layers! The horses are brought over, Mongolian horses are like the people, short, stocky, and strong. The little furry horses looked…somewhat agitated. The Mongolian herder says that he is proud that his horses are not tame but wild which is what makes them such good horses.
Right.
They ask me if I want to ride bare back (without a saddle) and I’ve ALWAYS wanted to, and then I see a horse in the distance with the rest of the herd, repeatedly kick another horse.
Ummmmmm, no thank you, I reply.
Mongolian saddles are a curious creation, instead of sitting on the horse they rise upwards off the horse into this V shape.
Right.
It barely fits my ass!
Right.
And the stirrups (where you put your feet) are so high for short Mongolian legs that my knees are level with the horse’s back!!! This is NOT good for riding.
The horse, now I’m not joking, turns around to look at me.
I smile.
He TAKES OFF!!
SHIT!
Oh he’s wild, and he wants to run which I would love except it feels like I’m about to fly over it’s head!!! I pull back hard on the reigns, he slows, and then tries to take off again!!! A Mongolian rider laughs hysterically as he pulls up next to me to tell me I should stand up on the horse and that would make it better, and he demonstrates on his horse to show me.
STAND UP!!! FOOL! I thought for sure I was going to fly right over this horses head – it’s really a wonderful feeling!! Bloody hell! The cold has apparently gotten to his brain too.
Eve takes one look at the horses and decides – hell no. Will also found the horses wild and the saddle impossible to use and got off of his. Riding lasted less than 20 minutes.
We toured the horse herd, and then retreated inside, the Mongolians had a sumo wrestling championship to watch and I was freezing my cajones off!
The Mongolians all headed to the one tent with a massive satellite dish outside next to the solar panel. Hey, just cause you live in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean you got to live like you’re in the middle of nowhere. These guys were hooked up!! We joined them as the woman of the tent began preparing our meal – I sighed, knowing that I would have to eat hardly to be respectful and that anything that they served would contain a ton of animal fat.
It begins.
Ah, the diet of Mongolia.
We watch some exciting sumo matches as two Mongolians battled for the international championship – quite a bit of national pride filled the tent! And dinner is served – dumplings stuffed with mostly piece of goat fat, a little bit of goat meat, cooked in pure yak milk with some yak butter, and rice on the bottom. I eat it, I have no choice or I would insult the entire family. And SILLY me an entire bowl of this stuff was only the appetizer. We went to the elder’s tent where his daughter made another traditional Mongolian meal, you break off large pieces of cow, roll out one large flat noodle and boil the beef with the massive noodle on top. The noodle is served on the side in a bowl and the meat in another bowl where you tear off pieces of meat and pasta with your hands and go to town. However, before we can eat, the head of the household, the most senior man, will cut off a slice of the cow intestine stuffed with fat and throw it into the fire as an offering to the gods, and then cut off another piece and place it in front of the Buddhist shrine in the household. Everyone gets served according to place and honor, so the eldest man first, and as guests we were allowed to eat first with the elder, the younger Mongolians (older than me!) must wait to eat what we left.
As honored guests (and I keep trying to tell them we’re not guests but almost like family – but they never buy it), we were given generous portions of beef tongue and intestine stuff with large portions of fat and a little bit a beef. Mind you, I’m already full from the first onslaught of animal products in a bowl, and now I must respectfully eat more!! This would be one area where my size and stature serve as a great disadvantage as they expect that I would eat at least twice as much as they do!! DAMNIT! I really try to force myself to eat a little more and not disrespect them, but every time I stopped they continued to fill my bowl or the elder demanded that I eat more. When I finally said I couldn’t, he looked unhappy and looked away. I shoved another piece of meat into my mouth, he grunted in approval and then when I really had to stop he looked disappointed and stopped talking to me.
I TRIED!!
Within minutes so much meat and meat products made me feel like curling up into a ball and hibernating for the winter, or the alternative would have been a lovely stomach pumping and some lettuce - but such is life.
So after a 6 hours drive, 15 miuntes of horseback riding, and an hour and a half with the family, it was getting late, roughly 6 p.m. and there was no way we were going to be able to navigate over all those rocks carefully with our temporary tire without adequate light. The Mongolians all incredulously looked at each other like these crazy foreigners drove all this way in terrible weather for 2 hours and are going back???!!!
Why yes, yes we are – work calls Monday morning.
Adventura!
And so we were off. The winds had picked up considerably, the sun was retiring for the evening and the cold was comfortably settling in for the night. We said our thank yous and good byes and headed off, praying to the tire gods to let our little tire make it through the journey and not have us be stuck where NO ONE could find us and in the cold!!! The sun setting over Chinggis’ homeland was spectacular, the reds, ambers, and purplish hues created a beautiful fire in the sky as the light played off of each other and reluctantly sunk below the mountains in the distance. The blue blues of the sky turned a deep midnight blue-black giving way to dozens of tiny sparks of light interspersed throughout the dark abyss above. The dozens of small flickers of light turned into hundreds, and then thousands of brilliant bright stars. I sunk back into the seat in that state of mind where all outside noise disappears, your senses relax and retreat to a place of rest, and my eyes followed the glints of light and got lost and the blue-black ocean of the Mongolian sky and faded into sleep. I was happy to be here and knew the morning hours would bring a lot of work and more to come.
It grows late here and so I wish you well. I know I owe most of you some personal form of communication, I am sorry, but I do think of you!
Sweet Dreams and Yak Milk (that is if you're still awake and you've made it this far!!),
Aisha
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Tales of An Amazon Has Returned Once More...
Greetings Dearest Friends and Family!!!
Yes, yes, I’m happy to report Tales of an Amazon has RETURNED!!! For those of you who are new to this, you’ll understand soon enough!
I am in India.
How to tell you about all that’s happened here? I know not. I need an email alone to tell you just about the people, my work, the monsoons, the heat, the animals, the culture, the reactions to me, the food—ahhhhhhhh the food!!!
I will do my best not to write you a novel, but….well you know me!! Those of you who don’t know my work – PRINT this out, sit back, relax, and grab a beverage as I do my utmost best to transform all that my senses have absorbed onto this electronic canvas.
___
Back up for just a minute…
Yes, it occurs to me that as I have been a rather large ass, and have been so miserably out of touch with so many of you for so long, that I should not only APOLOGIZE (sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!), but give you a brief background as to how I got here.
Since Thailand, I went to Darfur, Sudan and shoot a documentary on the geneocide. It’s called “Bedeekee Darkee: Message from Home,” and though the website is still under construction, feel free to take a look at www.darfurfilm.org. I’ve mostly graduated from the American University masters program in peace and conflict resolution (what a surprise) – I owe them one more paper!! DOH! And I’ve just recently talked my into a job I have no idea how to do at an organization called Global Rights.
I run their programs in India and Mongolia, based out of Washington, DC, a position for which they wanted to hire a lawyer! riiight! Let me summarize how the 4 plus hours of interviewing went:
“So,” they asked me, “do you have any legal background or experience?”
“No,” I replied.
“Have you ever been to India or Mongolia?” they inquired.
“No,” I said, “but you should hire me anyway.”
And they did. ?????? I didn’t think they’d actually LISTEN to me???!!!!
So, here I am working at the grassroots level on human rights issues and ways to connect local activists, lawyers, and paralegals, etc. to learn and gain better access to legal aid and justice mechanisms with their local, cultural, and national contexts of their country.
After working 5 days in the DC office they asked me to write two annual reports (sure, no problem), and after working 10 days they shipped me off to India – just my style!
Caught up? Great! :)
__
India is, in a word, magnificent!
There is a strange and wonderful familiarity for me here. I arrived in a city called Jaipur, in the northern state of Rajasthan bordering the deserts of Pakistan. The city is a mixture of old architecture and new, ancient Indian forts, city walls, and palaces meet the modern city structures of buildings, mini-malls, and of course the city’s only McDonalds. Inbetween these structures, often hidden behind large walls are the city slums, structures made of tin, broken brick, and mud overshadow the even more dilapidated tent-like structures make of cloth and plastic the house the poor and destitute. The old paved roads, give way to dirt alleyways, and the cars and motorcycles dart past the rickshaws and bicycles that navigate around the carts pulled by large white cattle with commanding curved horns, and the graceful gate of impressively large camels. (special note: camels CUTE, I want one!!)
Lining the streets are stalls of beautifully colored fruit and various fried food, chai (tea) stands, and shops upon shops filled the colorful cloths, rugs, all sorts of goods, and multiple sites of construction as the city continues to expand and develop. Cows, donkeys, dogs, pigs, and goats rummage around looking for morsels of food and water, and cool places to rest as it is a lovely 115-120 degrees on a daily basis with no less than full humidity. The striking call from a bird draws ones eyes upward to the trees and building tops to gaze at the arresting beauty of the male peacock whose iridescent blues and greens of its feathers are breathtakingly spectacular. Clans of black faced monkeys perch on top of movie theaters and building watching their distant cousins on the streets below do the strange things that only humans do.
The various modes of transportation carry the Indians of every shade of brown colored skin and so many genetic variations visible in their faces, I am captivated day after day. Whizzing past on buses and scooters, or the slower paced rickshaws, are the magnificent array of fantastic colored sarees (long clothes wrapped around the body) adorned by the women – an endless feast for the eyes! Businessmen in ties drive by men walking slowly in the think heat dressed in more traditional kurtas (tunics) and long cloths wrapped around their waists.
At every intersection, one can find the yellowed discolored hair of the malnourished children, women, and men, the crippled and disfigured, and the old men and women in search of charity. The frail children covered in dirt and rags carry even smaller children and dash inbetween traffic begging from car to car, their blond hair highlighting their illness, their deep, disturbed and aged eyes reveal the harshness of their lives.
An article in the paper just a few days ago, described the increasing problem of ‘babies for rent.’ Communals of poor women actually rent babies and small children to poorer women to increase the profits of their begging. These women, sometimes even the very parents of these children, purposely keep these babies malnourished, weak, and sickly to increase their ‘value.’ The children are rented for 10-12 rupees a day, roughly 25 cents.
(I ask you to judge them not, fore it is not our place, and until extreme poverty has made you mad, you and I do not have the right. That being said, after I read the article, I longer had the stomach to finish my breakfast.)
As I ride with my colleagues in a auto-rickshaw (kind of scooter connected to a carriage), I notice a woman in an elaborately elegant saree adorned in impressive gold jewelry standing at the gas station waiting for her husband in t-shirt and slacks to fill up their motorcycle. A young girl in jeans and a tunic walks by a village woman in the more traditional dress of a ghagra—a brightly colored floor-length flowing skirt and long pieces of cloths draped from the head and wrapped around the body. Old meets new, tradition meets modern, wealth meets poverty, classic culture blends with Western influence in a colorful chaotic calm that is Jaipur.
We connected down the street and came upon hundreds of shirtless men walking in an organized line with banners and signs in protest. The dense heavy heat of the day dripped down the backs of the men with looks of determination and strength on their faces. My colleagues revealed that they were teachers protesting against the government, and I, as a fan of protect and civil unrest, applauded their courage. We continued to travel past the hundreds of men and were stopped in our tracks by the large barricade up ahead and the multitude of heavily armed police that tensely waited for the protesters.
My colleagues looked worried and explained to me that the police in the north are notorious for their cruelty and violence and had just, the week before, murdered 6 unarmed protesters, including 2 women. Naturally, I wanted to stay, but my colleagues quickly ordered the driver to take another route.
******************************
INTERMISSION………..
******************************
I’ll take this moment now to try and convey the reactions of Indians to me. I certainly expected to stick out a bit (as is the norm for me), and I expected some odd reactions – but NOTHING like what’s actually been the reality. While traveling down the street, EVERYONE and I mean EVERYONE stops whatever they’re doing to stare – usually without blinking and with mouth wide open.
I’ve been followed 3 times by men on motorcycles with gaping mouths. A husband brought his entire family to gather around me and stare at me, wide-eyed and gaping mouths, standing just two feet away. Naturally, a small crowd draws a bigger one, and soon I had dozens of wide-eyed Indians starring up at me to the horror of my co-works who ushered me into the protection of a dark movie theater. I’ve been asked for my autograph???? But it might have something to do with the fact that two people have called me Serena Williams. A poor chap was too busy starring at me and rode his bike into a wall, and a policeman felt the need to show me his semi-automatic weapon with a smile. (And yes, that’s a LITERAL account of what happened with the policeman thank you very much!)
These are just SOME of the highlights from week ONE!!
No one seems to know what to do with me here – I’m brown like them but so much bigger and different looking…
Ah – life!
I do have a confession to make….I’m having a wild and passionate love-affair!! I KNOW, I know, I’ve only been here a short time, but it…well it just happened and it was SO right!!!
Yes, I’m having a passionate affair with…Indian food!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! May God save my soul!
The sexy sultry color of the deepest red-orange of papaya, upon entry of the mouth, melts in a smooth transition from fruit to the sheer bliss of softly sweet juice that makes the entire body calmly smile in a release of joy.
The bright deep yellow of the moist mango with its strong intoxicating fragrantly sweet, complicated flavor envelops the body in such a titillatingly divine experience of pleasure – it is surely a sin to go for more.
(And if sinning is wroooooooong, I DON’T WANNA BE RIGHT!)
As a drop of the sweet mango juice lazily rolls down the chin, it is quickly chased by the tongue who rescues it back into the warm mouth that desperately savors every last morsel that is surely a taste of heaven. The eyes quickly dart around in search of any possible witness of such a happily shameful display of raw desire.
The lips curve in a one-sided smile of agony and ecstasy.
The jackfruit is devilishly deceptive in its rather ugly green, bumpy, rough exterior. But a laborious slice of a knife reveals the bright sun yellow of its insides. One must use one fingers to delicately burrow through its juicy flesh to find the oval-like pieces of blissful rapture. The delightfully delicious reward – a playfully sweet flavor released by a bite of its fabulously textured flesh.
It’s the simple pleasures of life my friends – indulge!! INDULGE!!!
The painful pleasure of spicy curries and various dishes is scooped up with more variations of naan (bread) that I knew existed, or cradled by the fingers mixed with some rice – who knew eating with your fingers makes everything taste better??!!
I am drunk on food!
Everyday the traffic whizzes by, the animals decorate the streets and buildings, the gorgeous women travel here and there covered in beautiful flowing fabrics of bright colors highlighted by their brown skin, and the men do what most men do—stare at the women as they go by. The sounds of exotic birds call out over the cars, horns, and mixture of various languages below. The scents of flowers, and various foods, and the smells of the city mix with the air thick with the scent of the monsoon rains. My senses are so stimulated.
I am in India.
______
My mind is over-stimulated with all the things I’ve been working on, but as this email is already painfully long (surprise indeed), I will share my work with you another time.
I have arrived in a new city in the south of India called Bangalore, no doubt it will bring new adventures and stories to tell.
I hope this email finds you happy and well, to those I have not spoken to in a long time, I apologize AGAIN and I hope you can forgive me, and I would love the chance to catch up soon.
Until the next episode, thank you to those who actually made it to the end of my babble, and much love from this gorgeous land,
South Asian Aisha
Yes, yes, I’m happy to report Tales of an Amazon has RETURNED!!! For those of you who are new to this, you’ll understand soon enough!
I am in India.
How to tell you about all that’s happened here? I know not. I need an email alone to tell you just about the people, my work, the monsoons, the heat, the animals, the culture, the reactions to me, the food—ahhhhhhhh the food!!!
I will do my best not to write you a novel, but….well you know me!! Those of you who don’t know my work – PRINT this out, sit back, relax, and grab a beverage as I do my utmost best to transform all that my senses have absorbed onto this electronic canvas.
___
Back up for just a minute…
Yes, it occurs to me that as I have been a rather large ass, and have been so miserably out of touch with so many of you for so long, that I should not only APOLOGIZE (sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!), but give you a brief background as to how I got here.
Since Thailand, I went to Darfur, Sudan and shoot a documentary on the geneocide. It’s called “Bedeekee Darkee: Message from Home,” and though the website is still under construction, feel free to take a look at www.darfurfilm.org. I’ve mostly graduated from the American University masters program in peace and conflict resolution (what a surprise) – I owe them one more paper!! DOH! And I’ve just recently talked my into a job I have no idea how to do at an organization called Global Rights.
I run their programs in India and Mongolia, based out of Washington, DC, a position for which they wanted to hire a lawyer! riiight! Let me summarize how the 4 plus hours of interviewing went:
“So,” they asked me, “do you have any legal background or experience?”
“No,” I replied.
“Have you ever been to India or Mongolia?” they inquired.
“No,” I said, “but you should hire me anyway.”
And they did. ?????? I didn’t think they’d actually LISTEN to me???!!!!
So, here I am working at the grassroots level on human rights issues and ways to connect local activists, lawyers, and paralegals, etc. to learn and gain better access to legal aid and justice mechanisms with their local, cultural, and national contexts of their country.
After working 5 days in the DC office they asked me to write two annual reports (sure, no problem), and after working 10 days they shipped me off to India – just my style!
Caught up? Great! :)
__
India is, in a word, magnificent!
There is a strange and wonderful familiarity for me here. I arrived in a city called Jaipur, in the northern state of Rajasthan bordering the deserts of Pakistan. The city is a mixture of old architecture and new, ancient Indian forts, city walls, and palaces meet the modern city structures of buildings, mini-malls, and of course the city’s only McDonalds. Inbetween these structures, often hidden behind large walls are the city slums, structures made of tin, broken brick, and mud overshadow the even more dilapidated tent-like structures make of cloth and plastic the house the poor and destitute. The old paved roads, give way to dirt alleyways, and the cars and motorcycles dart past the rickshaws and bicycles that navigate around the carts pulled by large white cattle with commanding curved horns, and the graceful gate of impressively large camels. (special note: camels CUTE, I want one!!)
Lining the streets are stalls of beautifully colored fruit and various fried food, chai (tea) stands, and shops upon shops filled the colorful cloths, rugs, all sorts of goods, and multiple sites of construction as the city continues to expand and develop. Cows, donkeys, dogs, pigs, and goats rummage around looking for morsels of food and water, and cool places to rest as it is a lovely 115-120 degrees on a daily basis with no less than full humidity. The striking call from a bird draws ones eyes upward to the trees and building tops to gaze at the arresting beauty of the male peacock whose iridescent blues and greens of its feathers are breathtakingly spectacular. Clans of black faced monkeys perch on top of movie theaters and building watching their distant cousins on the streets below do the strange things that only humans do.
The various modes of transportation carry the Indians of every shade of brown colored skin and so many genetic variations visible in their faces, I am captivated day after day. Whizzing past on buses and scooters, or the slower paced rickshaws, are the magnificent array of fantastic colored sarees (long clothes wrapped around the body) adorned by the women – an endless feast for the eyes! Businessmen in ties drive by men walking slowly in the think heat dressed in more traditional kurtas (tunics) and long cloths wrapped around their waists.
At every intersection, one can find the yellowed discolored hair of the malnourished children, women, and men, the crippled and disfigured, and the old men and women in search of charity. The frail children covered in dirt and rags carry even smaller children and dash inbetween traffic begging from car to car, their blond hair highlighting their illness, their deep, disturbed and aged eyes reveal the harshness of their lives.
An article in the paper just a few days ago, described the increasing problem of ‘babies for rent.’ Communals of poor women actually rent babies and small children to poorer women to increase the profits of their begging. These women, sometimes even the very parents of these children, purposely keep these babies malnourished, weak, and sickly to increase their ‘value.’ The children are rented for 10-12 rupees a day, roughly 25 cents.
(I ask you to judge them not, fore it is not our place, and until extreme poverty has made you mad, you and I do not have the right. That being said, after I read the article, I longer had the stomach to finish my breakfast.)
As I ride with my colleagues in a auto-rickshaw (kind of scooter connected to a carriage), I notice a woman in an elaborately elegant saree adorned in impressive gold jewelry standing at the gas station waiting for her husband in t-shirt and slacks to fill up their motorcycle. A young girl in jeans and a tunic walks by a village woman in the more traditional dress of a ghagra—a brightly colored floor-length flowing skirt and long pieces of cloths draped from the head and wrapped around the body. Old meets new, tradition meets modern, wealth meets poverty, classic culture blends with Western influence in a colorful chaotic calm that is Jaipur.
We connected down the street and came upon hundreds of shirtless men walking in an organized line with banners and signs in protest. The dense heavy heat of the day dripped down the backs of the men with looks of determination and strength on their faces. My colleagues revealed that they were teachers protesting against the government, and I, as a fan of protect and civil unrest, applauded their courage. We continued to travel past the hundreds of men and were stopped in our tracks by the large barricade up ahead and the multitude of heavily armed police that tensely waited for the protesters.
My colleagues looked worried and explained to me that the police in the north are notorious for their cruelty and violence and had just, the week before, murdered 6 unarmed protesters, including 2 women. Naturally, I wanted to stay, but my colleagues quickly ordered the driver to take another route.
******************************
INTERMISSION………..
******************************
I’ll take this moment now to try and convey the reactions of Indians to me. I certainly expected to stick out a bit (as is the norm for me), and I expected some odd reactions – but NOTHING like what’s actually been the reality. While traveling down the street, EVERYONE and I mean EVERYONE stops whatever they’re doing to stare – usually without blinking and with mouth wide open.
I’ve been followed 3 times by men on motorcycles with gaping mouths. A husband brought his entire family to gather around me and stare at me, wide-eyed and gaping mouths, standing just two feet away. Naturally, a small crowd draws a bigger one, and soon I had dozens of wide-eyed Indians starring up at me to the horror of my co-works who ushered me into the protection of a dark movie theater. I’ve been asked for my autograph???? But it might have something to do with the fact that two people have called me Serena Williams. A poor chap was too busy starring at me and rode his bike into a wall, and a policeman felt the need to show me his semi-automatic weapon with a smile. (And yes, that’s a LITERAL account of what happened with the policeman thank you very much!)
These are just SOME of the highlights from week ONE!!
No one seems to know what to do with me here – I’m brown like them but so much bigger and different looking…
Ah – life!
I do have a confession to make….I’m having a wild and passionate love-affair!! I KNOW, I know, I’ve only been here a short time, but it…well it just happened and it was SO right!!!
Yes, I’m having a passionate affair with…Indian food!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! May God save my soul!
The sexy sultry color of the deepest red-orange of papaya, upon entry of the mouth, melts in a smooth transition from fruit to the sheer bliss of softly sweet juice that makes the entire body calmly smile in a release of joy.
The bright deep yellow of the moist mango with its strong intoxicating fragrantly sweet, complicated flavor envelops the body in such a titillatingly divine experience of pleasure – it is surely a sin to go for more.
(And if sinning is wroooooooong, I DON’T WANNA BE RIGHT!)
As a drop of the sweet mango juice lazily rolls down the chin, it is quickly chased by the tongue who rescues it back into the warm mouth that desperately savors every last morsel that is surely a taste of heaven. The eyes quickly dart around in search of any possible witness of such a happily shameful display of raw desire.
The lips curve in a one-sided smile of agony and ecstasy.
The jackfruit is devilishly deceptive in its rather ugly green, bumpy, rough exterior. But a laborious slice of a knife reveals the bright sun yellow of its insides. One must use one fingers to delicately burrow through its juicy flesh to find the oval-like pieces of blissful rapture. The delightfully delicious reward – a playfully sweet flavor released by a bite of its fabulously textured flesh.
It’s the simple pleasures of life my friends – indulge!! INDULGE!!!
The painful pleasure of spicy curries and various dishes is scooped up with more variations of naan (bread) that I knew existed, or cradled by the fingers mixed with some rice – who knew eating with your fingers makes everything taste better??!!
I am drunk on food!
Everyday the traffic whizzes by, the animals decorate the streets and buildings, the gorgeous women travel here and there covered in beautiful flowing fabrics of bright colors highlighted by their brown skin, and the men do what most men do—stare at the women as they go by. The sounds of exotic birds call out over the cars, horns, and mixture of various languages below. The scents of flowers, and various foods, and the smells of the city mix with the air thick with the scent of the monsoon rains. My senses are so stimulated.
I am in India.
______
My mind is over-stimulated with all the things I’ve been working on, but as this email is already painfully long (surprise indeed), I will share my work with you another time.
I have arrived in a new city in the south of India called Bangalore, no doubt it will bring new adventures and stories to tell.
I hope this email finds you happy and well, to those I have not spoken to in a long time, I apologize AGAIN and I hope you can forgive me, and I would love the chance to catch up soon.
Until the next episode, thank you to those who actually made it to the end of my babble, and much love from this gorgeous land,
South Asian Aisha
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Babbling
heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey I'm in town!
up at 4:15 this morning--where am i?
who am i?
ugh!
rain why???
better than snow!
need coffee, must sound intelligent in few hours!
damnit!
the presentation at lasalle is from 11:00 - 1:30
i have some other presentation at 4:00 and then i have to join them for dinner
don't know how long that will drag out, if it ends early enough i'll give you a call tonight, otherwise i'll call you TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!
i can't wait!!
if you know anybody i know that i would love to see and just don't know they're in town or don't have their contact let me know!!
mmmmm....sounding intelligent already!!!
you know what i mean!!!
see ya soon!
up at 4:15 this morning--where am i?
who am i?
ugh!
rain why???
better than snow!
need coffee, must sound intelligent in few hours!
damnit!
the presentation at lasalle is from 11:00 - 1:30
i have some other presentation at 4:00 and then i have to join them for dinner
don't know how long that will drag out, if it ends early enough i'll give you a call tonight, otherwise i'll call you TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!
i can't wait!!
if you know anybody i know that i would love to see and just don't know they're in town or don't have their contact let me know!!
mmmmm....sounding intelligent already!!!
you know what i mean!!!
see ya soon!
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
oh god!
ummmmmmmmm
ok
this is really funny and really goddamn embarrasing.
this dude did a profile on me--i'm misquoted ALL
OVER THE PLACE and he's not the greatest writer but
i thought you could use a good laugh today!!
do not make fun of me.
thank you
http://www1.soc.american.edu/interactive/cohort7/mosby/profile/index.html
ok
this is really funny and really goddamn embarrasing.
this dude did a profile on me--i'm misquoted ALL
OVER THE PLACE and he's not the greatest writer but
i thought you could use a good laugh today!!
do not make fun of me.
thank you
http://www1.soc.american.edu/interactive/cohort7/mosby/profile/index.html
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Episode 3: Fear and Loathing in Burma
OK, so maybe it's a little soon for my next installment, but the last few days merits two episodes. Here we go...
I headed north to Mae Sai, a border town with Burma to visit an amazing organization that does unbelievable work with trafficked victims and at-risk youths under incredible odds and unimaginable circumstances. The time I spent with them I will always remember, I just left them this morning after a wonderful 4 days and I am still a bit sad. My experiences with them and with trafficking wil be sharred in Episode 4.
But today's story's about the crazy events of yesterday, and my time in Burma.
I woke up from a restful sleep, ready to head to an important meeting after breakfast. I took the fruit from the fridge from the previous day's breakfast, a feast of the freshest pineapple, jack fruit, and one other one which name escapes me at the moment. I happily sat down, prepared my notes for the meeting and dove into the bowl of fruit. Nearing the end of my delightful breakfast, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something move at the bottom of the bowl. I took a closer look.
Sure enough there was a white worm squirming around in the fruit juices. OH - there's two. HA - make that three!
And i just sat there in mid-chew thinking that I've certainly ingested some extra protein already with my fruit, why waste the rest? But I just seemed to have lost my appetite a little bit. So now the question remains -- who will win? My digestive track or theirs? We shall see!
I had a FANTASTIC meeting, which left me excited and full of useful information on the current situation of trafficking in this section of the country. Feeling great, I seized the opportunity of a free afternoon to cross into Burma, I wanted to see some of the conditions that made these people risk everything to escape. I wanted to see where some of these victims are coming from, I wanted to learn, and so I went.
Crossing over was easy (for me), there is a river that marks the border, cross a bridge, hand a man your passport and $5 UD dollars and you're in Myanmar. The bridge is flooded with vendors selling what looks like every possible market good that comes from China at probably a 1/4 of the price.
I chose a direction and began walking, and as I left the main part of town, the paved roads turned to dirt, the concrete buildings into tin and bamboo shacks, and the fancy goods and vendors into the poverty that is Burma. The poverty was striking and I didn't feel comfortable whipping out my camera to take pictures of their misery and struggle, instead I politely nodded and half smiled. Some smiled back, most just starred blankly, curiously, angrily, longingly.
Then on my left reappeared the river, the brown border river snaked its way deeper into the country and out of my sight. I continued to walk mesmerized by the immense beauty of the hill tops that jut their way out of the ground, covered with every shade of green, such a sharp breathtaking contrast to the dark brown of the muddy river below.
I kept walking. The shacks became shabbier, and as I walked around the bend I saw that they were burning the hill sides on my right. From the black earth rose huge billows of white smoke that blended their way into the gray sky overhead. Through the smoke I saw two women in the distance with bundles on their heads walking towards me barefoot on deep red colored earth. Then then something further up the river caught my eye, it was a man with a huge bundle crossing the river, and I watched him until he disappeared out of sight into the Thailand hills. Risking be shot or worse if he's caught alive, this is how it happens everyday--people crossing the river to freedom, and sometimes just into another hell, crossing borders but still trapped by poverty.
Finally, a group of men sitting under a bamboo canopy asked me to stop and join them. I surveyed the scene, a woman appeared, they all smiled, and it felt alright. Only one of them spoke English which he was very excited to practice and his friends offered me what food they had. They were all very welcoming, and the man tried to explain their troubles to me but he had not the words. He asked me how he could get to America, but what could I say?
When I asked him if these people were his family, he laughed and pointed to his boss and then his partners.
"What work do you do?" I asked.
"How to explain? We bring things from Thailand, " He said.
"Into Burma?" I asked.
"Yes." He said.
Right. I was sitting with a bunch of smugglers, and I can't blame them for what they do to try and survive, but perhaps this was not the best company for me to keep in such a militaristic state. Too late. A military officer pulls up on his motor bike shortly there after (did he hear my freaking thoughts???!!). I didn't think anything of it too much, but he walked directly in front of me and stared at me until his eyes came to rest on my bag.
I politely nodded and half smiled. He glared in return, his eyes repeatedly shifting from me to my bag and I began to get a sinking feeling. His glare became menacing and he began barking questions at the guy who spoke English. He responded but the questions kept coming and the officer wouldn't take his eyes off of me. Then he let out a small evil smile and my stomach dropped and my eyes shifted to the Burmese guy for some sign of what was going on, but the look on his face didn't comfort me.
The officer pointed to my bag and barked something else, the Burmese guy asked me if I had a camera. "No" I responded and shook my head, looking as innocent as possible, blatant lie--please don't check my bag! please don't check my bag! The officer's agitation grew, and they talked some more. Then some guy around the corner called the officer who was momentarily distracted.
The Burmese guy turns to me and says, "You must leave. Hurry now! You can't be here, he doesn't like tourist here. Leave!" Unsure if me just getting up and running away from the scene is the best idea, I look at him and then the officer who has his back to me, "now?" I whisper.
"Leave now you must. Please!" And the look on his face is more than enough for me. I take my bag and calmly but with quickened pace start walking away. Damn all this MUD! And all I can think is how do I get myself into these situations?!
I walk straight without looking back, but above the pounding of my heart I hear arguing behind me growing with intensity--my stomach sinks. I keep walking, cursing myself.
Over the arguing I hear a motorbike start. My stomach jumped straight out of my body and flopped onto the ground. Well, this is it I thought, not quite the way I had planned to spend my day, month, or maybe even year. Ain't this a bi*ch! I turned a bend in the road and I can still hear the arguing over the sound of the motorbike, and the motorbike revs up and I hold my breath as I'm trying to book it down the road.
Then out of NO WHERE, this mini-van type vehicle they use here for public transport appears and four guys are happily smiling in the back and wave to me. I had stopped and said hello to them earlier in the day! They signal to the driver to slow down and motion for me to get on--YES! YES! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Buddha! Thank you Mohammad! Thank you Shiva! Thank you Abraham! Thank you!
I jumped on and slid to the back and bent over pretending to fiddle with my flip flop - in reality, just trying to hide. I heard a motorbike whiz by.
Maybe it was him, maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was just on his way to get his favorite ice cream, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just arguing about why Greece just won the soccer cup, maybe he wasn't.
I'll never know.
We reached the bridge and I set off across it, steps away from safety I still held my breathe excepting him to appear any moment.
He did not.
After what seemed like an eternity, my feet touched Thai soil and I needed a drink! BADLY! And I then I cursed, I cursed Thailand and the northern conservatism that prevents respectful women from buying alcohol! I stormed into a 7-Eleven a downed a bottle of water imagining the smooth, strong taste of vodka and rode my bike home.
I arrived to the company of my new friends from the shelter and upon recounting my story, one of the girls disappeared and then reappeared with a mug. I took a sip --alcohol! Ah, it's good to have friends! And the whiskey slowly coursed through my blood stream, calming my stomach, caressing my nerves, and warming me from head to toe. I took a deep long breath of the crisp clean air fragranced with the remnants of fog and sweet rain, fresh earth, and wet trees, and I let out a sigh and a small smile--the kind where only one side of my mouth rises in a half crescent.
And I was myself.
We ate and drank and before I reached my pillow for the night I would step on a burning mosquito coil, whack my head on a low door frame, and find a centipede in my bed!
But it was all good and I feel asleep, ready for another day.
My love to all of you! I am safe and I am well, and I am not telling my mother about this till am am back in th states and I would appreciate if you didn't either! thanks--good looking out!
Info on trafficking requires a separate email to share with you some of what I have learned and seen. I know I keep saying this, but it is on the way soon I just didn't want to bog down your inboxes.
Stay safe and stay well,
With Love,
Aisha
I headed north to Mae Sai, a border town with Burma to visit an amazing organization that does unbelievable work with trafficked victims and at-risk youths under incredible odds and unimaginable circumstances. The time I spent with them I will always remember, I just left them this morning after a wonderful 4 days and I am still a bit sad. My experiences with them and with trafficking wil be sharred in Episode 4.
But today's story's about the crazy events of yesterday, and my time in Burma.
I woke up from a restful sleep, ready to head to an important meeting after breakfast. I took the fruit from the fridge from the previous day's breakfast, a feast of the freshest pineapple, jack fruit, and one other one which name escapes me at the moment. I happily sat down, prepared my notes for the meeting and dove into the bowl of fruit. Nearing the end of my delightful breakfast, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something move at the bottom of the bowl. I took a closer look.
Sure enough there was a white worm squirming around in the fruit juices. OH - there's two. HA - make that three!
And i just sat there in mid-chew thinking that I've certainly ingested some extra protein already with my fruit, why waste the rest? But I just seemed to have lost my appetite a little bit. So now the question remains -- who will win? My digestive track or theirs? We shall see!
I had a FANTASTIC meeting, which left me excited and full of useful information on the current situation of trafficking in this section of the country. Feeling great, I seized the opportunity of a free afternoon to cross into Burma, I wanted to see some of the conditions that made these people risk everything to escape. I wanted to see where some of these victims are coming from, I wanted to learn, and so I went.
Crossing over was easy (for me), there is a river that marks the border, cross a bridge, hand a man your passport and $5 UD dollars and you're in Myanmar. The bridge is flooded with vendors selling what looks like every possible market good that comes from China at probably a 1/4 of the price.
I chose a direction and began walking, and as I left the main part of town, the paved roads turned to dirt, the concrete buildings into tin and bamboo shacks, and the fancy goods and vendors into the poverty that is Burma. The poverty was striking and I didn't feel comfortable whipping out my camera to take pictures of their misery and struggle, instead I politely nodded and half smiled. Some smiled back, most just starred blankly, curiously, angrily, longingly.
Then on my left reappeared the river, the brown border river snaked its way deeper into the country and out of my sight. I continued to walk mesmerized by the immense beauty of the hill tops that jut their way out of the ground, covered with every shade of green, such a sharp breathtaking contrast to the dark brown of the muddy river below.
I kept walking. The shacks became shabbier, and as I walked around the bend I saw that they were burning the hill sides on my right. From the black earth rose huge billows of white smoke that blended their way into the gray sky overhead. Through the smoke I saw two women in the distance with bundles on their heads walking towards me barefoot on deep red colored earth. Then then something further up the river caught my eye, it was a man with a huge bundle crossing the river, and I watched him until he disappeared out of sight into the Thailand hills. Risking be shot or worse if he's caught alive, this is how it happens everyday--people crossing the river to freedom, and sometimes just into another hell, crossing borders but still trapped by poverty.
Finally, a group of men sitting under a bamboo canopy asked me to stop and join them. I surveyed the scene, a woman appeared, they all smiled, and it felt alright. Only one of them spoke English which he was very excited to practice and his friends offered me what food they had. They were all very welcoming, and the man tried to explain their troubles to me but he had not the words. He asked me how he could get to America, but what could I say?
When I asked him if these people were his family, he laughed and pointed to his boss and then his partners.
"What work do you do?" I asked.
"How to explain? We bring things from Thailand, " He said.
"Into Burma?" I asked.
"Yes." He said.
Right. I was sitting with a bunch of smugglers, and I can't blame them for what they do to try and survive, but perhaps this was not the best company for me to keep in such a militaristic state. Too late. A military officer pulls up on his motor bike shortly there after (did he hear my freaking thoughts???!!). I didn't think anything of it too much, but he walked directly in front of me and stared at me until his eyes came to rest on my bag.
I politely nodded and half smiled. He glared in return, his eyes repeatedly shifting from me to my bag and I began to get a sinking feeling. His glare became menacing and he began barking questions at the guy who spoke English. He responded but the questions kept coming and the officer wouldn't take his eyes off of me. Then he let out a small evil smile and my stomach dropped and my eyes shifted to the Burmese guy for some sign of what was going on, but the look on his face didn't comfort me.
The officer pointed to my bag and barked something else, the Burmese guy asked me if I had a camera. "No" I responded and shook my head, looking as innocent as possible, blatant lie--please don't check my bag! please don't check my bag! The officer's agitation grew, and they talked some more. Then some guy around the corner called the officer who was momentarily distracted.
The Burmese guy turns to me and says, "You must leave. Hurry now! You can't be here, he doesn't like tourist here. Leave!" Unsure if me just getting up and running away from the scene is the best idea, I look at him and then the officer who has his back to me, "now?" I whisper.
"Leave now you must. Please!" And the look on his face is more than enough for me. I take my bag and calmly but with quickened pace start walking away. Damn all this MUD! And all I can think is how do I get myself into these situations?!
I walk straight without looking back, but above the pounding of my heart I hear arguing behind me growing with intensity--my stomach sinks. I keep walking, cursing myself.
Over the arguing I hear a motorbike start. My stomach jumped straight out of my body and flopped onto the ground. Well, this is it I thought, not quite the way I had planned to spend my day, month, or maybe even year. Ain't this a bi*ch! I turned a bend in the road and I can still hear the arguing over the sound of the motorbike, and the motorbike revs up and I hold my breath as I'm trying to book it down the road.
Then out of NO WHERE, this mini-van type vehicle they use here for public transport appears and four guys are happily smiling in the back and wave to me. I had stopped and said hello to them earlier in the day! They signal to the driver to slow down and motion for me to get on--YES! YES! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Buddha! Thank you Mohammad! Thank you Shiva! Thank you Abraham! Thank you!
I jumped on and slid to the back and bent over pretending to fiddle with my flip flop - in reality, just trying to hide. I heard a motorbike whiz by.
Maybe it was him, maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was just on his way to get his favorite ice cream, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just arguing about why Greece just won the soccer cup, maybe he wasn't.
I'll never know.
We reached the bridge and I set off across it, steps away from safety I still held my breathe excepting him to appear any moment.
He did not.
After what seemed like an eternity, my feet touched Thai soil and I needed a drink! BADLY! And I then I cursed, I cursed Thailand and the northern conservatism that prevents respectful women from buying alcohol! I stormed into a 7-Eleven a downed a bottle of water imagining the smooth, strong taste of vodka and rode my bike home.
I arrived to the company of my new friends from the shelter and upon recounting my story, one of the girls disappeared and then reappeared with a mug. I took a sip --alcohol! Ah, it's good to have friends! And the whiskey slowly coursed through my blood stream, calming my stomach, caressing my nerves, and warming me from head to toe. I took a deep long breath of the crisp clean air fragranced with the remnants of fog and sweet rain, fresh earth, and wet trees, and I let out a sigh and a small smile--the kind where only one side of my mouth rises in a half crescent.
And I was myself.
We ate and drank and before I reached my pillow for the night I would step on a burning mosquito coil, whack my head on a low door frame, and find a centipede in my bed!
But it was all good and I feel asleep, ready for another day.
My love to all of you! I am safe and I am well, and I am not telling my mother about this till am am back in th states and I would appreciate if you didn't either! thanks--good looking out!
Info on trafficking requires a separate email to share with you some of what I have learned and seen. I know I keep saying this, but it is on the way soon I just didn't want to bog down your inboxes.
Stay safe and stay well,
With Love,
Aisha
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Episode 2: Touched by a Monk, Lady-Boys, and Water Buffalo!
My Beautiful friends!
I hope this finds you all happy and well! I am almost compelled to write you guys everyday because, indeed, everyday is an adventure! OK, how to make this short and sweet and answer some of your questions, right!
1--Massage: those of you who wanted to know about my massage, no I didn't get the traditional thai massage yet because it looks like somethng out of a wrestling match and I haven't been that brave yet. LIttle Thai woman trying to turn a big body into a pretzel??? hmmmmm....
however, the place I went was AMAZING! It was absolutely beautiful with dark wooden paneling everywhere, wood carvings, golden buddhas reflecting the dim lighting and the scent of soft incense. This tiny little thing shows me to a room, points to the table and leaves. There's a towel and paper underwear that you're suppose to change into, and as I pick up the paper underwear a wave of panic overwhelms me -- these are made for little Thai butts! Oh dear! And all i could do was picture myself ripping the little thing to shreds and having to flash the little Thai women who only comes up to my belly button!
But to my relief, the little undrwear gave way to my African...heritage, and I lay on the table (didn't quite fit, but that's alright) to enjoy a TWO HOUR massage of first rubbing you with warm ginger and then followed by oil. All for $8 USD, yeah, it's a great way to start your day.
2 -- Yes, I have managed to hit the towna few times, my night started out GREAT with this taxi driver in his late 60's who made someone translate that Thai men love tall women who are firm, and have nice legs! ??? Ah, you don't have many of those here do you? And he smiled his big smile revealing the last of his three teeth and said -- I know.
Old man's got GAME!!!
He dropped me off at some bar and i heard this girl on stagewho sounded like she was imitating some monkey's mating call andall I could think to myself was --OH NO! I'm in a kareoke bar!!!!! AHHH! Butto my complete surpriseit was a band of Philipinos and Thais that were GOOD! We're talking JAMMIN! You name it, Ricky Martin, Linkin Park, Queen, Mary J Blige, Evansence--GOOD!!!
I mean what does a 5 foot nothing, 50 pound chick know about Bootylicious when she ain't got one??? But she had some attitude and was singing Beyonce like it was nobody's business! I had to dance, couldn't help myself. But then when this Thai guy tried to rap the Jay-Z part--oh, Bad! Bad Bad Bad, the man busted up my groove so badly I had to sit back down again and order another drink.
Speaking of Beyonce, that's what they call me here! And I ain't complaining, it's much better than calling my Godzilla like I thought they would.
And speaking of Godzilla, let's just talk about me and shopping for a moment. I love the markets here so much, in most places there's a night market that's just bustling with people and vendors and life, and it's justa great place to be. I just skip over the clothes cause well, there's just no need for me to put myself through that. But every once in a while a vendor will call me over and say, "Hey! Big size for you! Have BIG Size!." And I get all excited and come over, like the other night there were the cutest shoes that cost $1 and they were GREAT! and I was so happy! So she digs way in the back and pulls out her 'big size' and I slip them on, and my feet only hang off about two inches in the back. She gasps, "YOU! You very BIIIIIIG!"
And I smile politely and give her back her stupid, ugly shoe and go on my way! Do I EVER learn????
Speaking of learn (everything just fowing so nicely today), can we just talk about monks for a minute! I love them! I want one! I think it's turning into an obsession, I just can't get enough! I'm now in the north in the smaller city of Chiang Mai and they're everywhere!!
Everytime I see a flash of orange, me heads whips aroung, and then I discover it's just some fool in an orange shirt and I get angry. I mean, they're in the markets, or a bus full of baby monks (that's what i call the younger ones) will drive by, or they're just walking and doing they're monk things and I just can't stop staring. They're just majestic to me, I don't even know why. It just about makes my day when they smile at me, and I feel like I've done something right or something! Issues! I have issues!
And finally the other two I met these two monks form Cambodia who were so awsome!! They were SO sweet and so nice and they invited me to come sit and talk with them. They were so excited to practice their English, the older one was about 59 eventhough he only looked 40 (Asians got this aging thing DOWN), and he had this dark, curved wooden walking sit and a calm warm smile. The younger one was 22, and just didn't stop talking! He wa so animated and excited, i couldn't help but bit my lip to prevent myself form laughing sometimes.
The older monk pointed to a seat next to him on the bench, but out of respect I sat a little further away to make sure the was no way that I touched him or his robes. The younger one is just talking away and I;m having the greatest time, and he tells me how he wants to travel everywhere and when I tell him I'm going to Cambodia he takes out some paper and writes down the address of his Wat (temple) and his phone number and say I must visit.
Digits from a monk! Damn I'm good!
(just kidding it is not my intention to offend any of your Buddhists out there!)
And he's just talking away about his studies, and he's got these black, think-immed glasses, and a blad head, and nice dark skin off-set by his bright orange robe, and this brilliant, adorable smile....and well.....I'm going to hell anyway so i might as well tell you I was attracted to a monk! Attracted to a MONK!
Wat the HELL is WRONG with me????????
--------------- (here's where you take a potty break or grab a snack)
Anyway, as luck would haveit, yet again, I've connected with some Peace Corps volunteers here (give it up!)and this ex-volunteer offered to let me crash at her place when I came up north--so nice.
After a series of successful meeting in Bangkok, Imade my way on a 13 hour train ride, I didn't even fit in the bathroom--but that's another story altogether), and arrived in Chiang Mai. It's a very quaint old city with much of the ancient outer city way still intact, complete with a moat, however it's now an inner-city wall as the city has expanded in every direction. Little motor bikes scoot around everywhere and little red buses, kind of like a big pickup truck with a covering in the back,will take you anywhere in the city. Most of the buildings are small and are interupted by elaborate golden wats (temples) EVERYWHERE!
I had some great meetings and interviews with shelters and organizations here, and met some of the victims themselves and heard some of there stories. However, tomorrow I head further north along the Burmese border, I've been invited to spend several days with this one organization called DEPDC. I'll be working directly with the victims themselves and although I can't wait, I know it will be a challenge, many of them are extremely young kids and to put a face and a name with the stories and actaully industry may just break me for a bit. Yet, this is why we do it right? Without the name and face, a story just becomes another number, the number another statistic, and the statistic gets thrown around by really important people in really important governments half way across the world who sip their coffee, report on the lastest stastic, and then move on to the next agenda item while the little 8 year old gril whose virginity has been sold for $300 is lost in
a pile of papers and numbers, another statistic on a desk somewhere.
WOW, sorry, didn't mean to do that! But along with all of the complex issues that are enveloped in the world of trafficking and exploitation, I have uncovered many of the roadblocks these victims and anti-trafficking organizations face--and in a word, they are disgusting.
And I believe, I lack the ability to understand that mixed in with all of the beautiful things that people can do, and build, and be, there is an absolute evil that exists....
and I can't comprehend it.
I will write more on trafficking after this weekend, I think I will have a lot to say after I leave that place and those children.
but not to leave you on a dark note, i believe I won't be able to prevent that in some of my future emails, I shall leave you on a light one:
STORY TIME
So this other night on the town was one of the most RANDOM of my life!!
Hanging with the ex-peace corps people, we go out for a drink and that was ONLY the beggining! Went to one bar, met a bunch of travels who invited us out to another place, sure what the hell?! The other place was just a bunch of Thai guys rapping--BADLY, and and a very...ecceltic crowd bobbing their heads--ahhhh no! Cross the street to Heaven Beach, a bar with sand for a floor, bamboo furniture, and there's this crazy metalband with a guy playing congo drums with drum sticks and he SUCKS, but he's so happy. Right! What the hell! Just drink, everything's better when you drink!
Met this lady-boy, that's what thai's call them her, guess you'd call her a drag queen, and she looked good! I'm just going to call him a 'her' cause that's what she looked like to me! Met the most random group of people, they invite us to follow them,hey, live a little! End up at a thai dance club that's totally out of control, flashing lights, a smoke machine, ragging house music--I am CRACKING up! I'm walking around with my new girl friend Sarah, the lady-boy, and we're just having a great time, but all of her lady-boy friends at the club are just starring me up and down and have NO idea what to do with me! Am I a women? But women are only 5'5"! Am I one of them? They so confused and I just think it's great!
End up dancing on stage (you know me), end up surrounded by prostitutes, their pimp (an old woman) kept pushing me over to where her girls were, and i'm like HEY, i'm not for sale here. then she pushed her girls on me and i'm like HEY, i'm not buying here! then she pushed some dude on me and i'm like HEY, no deniro!! jesus! Let me dance!
Dancing up a storm to house music, get a ride in Sarah's truck somewhere else, and end up hanging out till 6 in the morning songs(she LOVES Tracy Chapman! heeeey), met some crazy people who all ended up being really cool, the drag queen just loved me--too funny!
and you know me, if it looks good i'll eat it, we were a little intoxicated late night and these people bought food and invited us to join. everything looked good so i just dug right in. i was CHOWING down when this one thai guy looks at me like i'm crazy and says YOU LIKE THAT? i'm like respond with an enthusiatic nod (too stuffing my face)! he makes this crazy face and then looks at me funny and says -- do you know what that IS?
i'm still eating it, "no."
then i get a little curious myself, what IS it, i ask as i swallow.
water buffalo intestines, raw!
how's that for yummy.
hehehe
and he' laughing in satisfaction like he thinks i'm going to be sick or something now that i know. he's just smurking!
and i just looked down at the plate, looked at him, looked back at the plate, everyone at the table is looking at me, and I just grabbed another handful of it, pop it in my mouth and said--HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!! in his face!
everyone just starts cracking up, some dude gave me a high five because a lot of people wont touch it i guess and i kept chowing.
i mean if i knew what it was, i might have hesitated, but it was GOOD,I swear!
hehehe
adventures in food to be continured!
:)
All the best my sweet little ones across the way!
Much love to you all,
South East Aisha
I hope this finds you all happy and well! I am almost compelled to write you guys everyday because, indeed, everyday is an adventure! OK, how to make this short and sweet and answer some of your questions, right!
1--Massage: those of you who wanted to know about my massage, no I didn't get the traditional thai massage yet because it looks like somethng out of a wrestling match and I haven't been that brave yet. LIttle Thai woman trying to turn a big body into a pretzel??? hmmmmm....
however, the place I went was AMAZING! It was absolutely beautiful with dark wooden paneling everywhere, wood carvings, golden buddhas reflecting the dim lighting and the scent of soft incense. This tiny little thing shows me to a room, points to the table and leaves. There's a towel and paper underwear that you're suppose to change into, and as I pick up the paper underwear a wave of panic overwhelms me -- these are made for little Thai butts! Oh dear! And all i could do was picture myself ripping the little thing to shreds and having to flash the little Thai women who only comes up to my belly button!
But to my relief, the little undrwear gave way to my African...heritage, and I lay on the table (didn't quite fit, but that's alright) to enjoy a TWO HOUR massage of first rubbing you with warm ginger and then followed by oil. All for $8 USD, yeah, it's a great way to start your day.
2 -- Yes, I have managed to hit the towna few times, my night started out GREAT with this taxi driver in his late 60's who made someone translate that Thai men love tall women who are firm, and have nice legs! ??? Ah, you don't have many of those here do you? And he smiled his big smile revealing the last of his three teeth and said -- I know.
Old man's got GAME!!!
He dropped me off at some bar and i heard this girl on stagewho sounded like she was imitating some monkey's mating call andall I could think to myself was --OH NO! I'm in a kareoke bar!!!!! AHHH! Butto my complete surpriseit was a band of Philipinos and Thais that were GOOD! We're talking JAMMIN! You name it, Ricky Martin, Linkin Park, Queen, Mary J Blige, Evansence--GOOD!!!
I mean what does a 5 foot nothing, 50 pound chick know about Bootylicious when she ain't got one??? But she had some attitude and was singing Beyonce like it was nobody's business! I had to dance, couldn't help myself. But then when this Thai guy tried to rap the Jay-Z part--oh, Bad! Bad Bad Bad, the man busted up my groove so badly I had to sit back down again and order another drink.
Speaking of Beyonce, that's what they call me here! And I ain't complaining, it's much better than calling my Godzilla like I thought they would.
And speaking of Godzilla, let's just talk about me and shopping for a moment. I love the markets here so much, in most places there's a night market that's just bustling with people and vendors and life, and it's justa great place to be. I just skip over the clothes cause well, there's just no need for me to put myself through that. But every once in a while a vendor will call me over and say, "Hey! Big size for you! Have BIG Size!." And I get all excited and come over, like the other night there were the cutest shoes that cost $1 and they were GREAT! and I was so happy! So she digs way in the back and pulls out her 'big size' and I slip them on, and my feet only hang off about two inches in the back. She gasps, "YOU! You very BIIIIIIG!"
And I smile politely and give her back her stupid, ugly shoe and go on my way! Do I EVER learn????
Speaking of learn (everything just fowing so nicely today), can we just talk about monks for a minute! I love them! I want one! I think it's turning into an obsession, I just can't get enough! I'm now in the north in the smaller city of Chiang Mai and they're everywhere!!
Everytime I see a flash of orange, me heads whips aroung, and then I discover it's just some fool in an orange shirt and I get angry. I mean, they're in the markets, or a bus full of baby monks (that's what i call the younger ones) will drive by, or they're just walking and doing they're monk things and I just can't stop staring. They're just majestic to me, I don't even know why. It just about makes my day when they smile at me, and I feel like I've done something right or something! Issues! I have issues!
And finally the other two I met these two monks form Cambodia who were so awsome!! They were SO sweet and so nice and they invited me to come sit and talk with them. They were so excited to practice their English, the older one was about 59 eventhough he only looked 40 (Asians got this aging thing DOWN), and he had this dark, curved wooden walking sit and a calm warm smile. The younger one was 22, and just didn't stop talking! He wa so animated and excited, i couldn't help but bit my lip to prevent myself form laughing sometimes.
The older monk pointed to a seat next to him on the bench, but out of respect I sat a little further away to make sure the was no way that I touched him or his robes. The younger one is just talking away and I;m having the greatest time, and he tells me how he wants to travel everywhere and when I tell him I'm going to Cambodia he takes out some paper and writes down the address of his Wat (temple) and his phone number and say I must visit.
Digits from a monk! Damn I'm good!
(just kidding it is not my intention to offend any of your Buddhists out there!)
And he's just talking away about his studies, and he's got these black, think-immed glasses, and a blad head, and nice dark skin off-set by his bright orange robe, and this brilliant, adorable smile....and well.....I'm going to hell anyway so i might as well tell you I was attracted to a monk! Attracted to a MONK!
Wat the HELL is WRONG with me????????
--------------- (here's where you take a potty break or grab a snack)
Anyway, as luck would haveit, yet again, I've connected with some Peace Corps volunteers here (give it up!)and this ex-volunteer offered to let me crash at her place when I came up north--so nice.
After a series of successful meeting in Bangkok, Imade my way on a 13 hour train ride, I didn't even fit in the bathroom--but that's another story altogether), and arrived in Chiang Mai. It's a very quaint old city with much of the ancient outer city way still intact, complete with a moat, however it's now an inner-city wall as the city has expanded in every direction. Little motor bikes scoot around everywhere and little red buses, kind of like a big pickup truck with a covering in the back,will take you anywhere in the city. Most of the buildings are small and are interupted by elaborate golden wats (temples) EVERYWHERE!
I had some great meetings and interviews with shelters and organizations here, and met some of the victims themselves and heard some of there stories. However, tomorrow I head further north along the Burmese border, I've been invited to spend several days with this one organization called DEPDC. I'll be working directly with the victims themselves and although I can't wait, I know it will be a challenge, many of them are extremely young kids and to put a face and a name with the stories and actaully industry may just break me for a bit. Yet, this is why we do it right? Without the name and face, a story just becomes another number, the number another statistic, and the statistic gets thrown around by really important people in really important governments half way across the world who sip their coffee, report on the lastest stastic, and then move on to the next agenda item while the little 8 year old gril whose virginity has been sold for $300 is lost in
a pile of papers and numbers, another statistic on a desk somewhere.
WOW, sorry, didn't mean to do that! But along with all of the complex issues that are enveloped in the world of trafficking and exploitation, I have uncovered many of the roadblocks these victims and anti-trafficking organizations face--and in a word, they are disgusting.
And I believe, I lack the ability to understand that mixed in with all of the beautiful things that people can do, and build, and be, there is an absolute evil that exists....
and I can't comprehend it.
I will write more on trafficking after this weekend, I think I will have a lot to say after I leave that place and those children.
but not to leave you on a dark note, i believe I won't be able to prevent that in some of my future emails, I shall leave you on a light one:
STORY TIME
So this other night on the town was one of the most RANDOM of my life!!
Hanging with the ex-peace corps people, we go out for a drink and that was ONLY the beggining! Went to one bar, met a bunch of travels who invited us out to another place, sure what the hell?! The other place was just a bunch of Thai guys rapping--BADLY, and and a very...ecceltic crowd bobbing their heads--ahhhh no! Cross the street to Heaven Beach, a bar with sand for a floor, bamboo furniture, and there's this crazy metalband with a guy playing congo drums with drum sticks and he SUCKS, but he's so happy. Right! What the hell! Just drink, everything's better when you drink!
Met this lady-boy, that's what thai's call them her, guess you'd call her a drag queen, and she looked good! I'm just going to call him a 'her' cause that's what she looked like to me! Met the most random group of people, they invite us to follow them,hey, live a little! End up at a thai dance club that's totally out of control, flashing lights, a smoke machine, ragging house music--I am CRACKING up! I'm walking around with my new girl friend Sarah, the lady-boy, and we're just having a great time, but all of her lady-boy friends at the club are just starring me up and down and have NO idea what to do with me! Am I a women? But women are only 5'5"! Am I one of them? They so confused and I just think it's great!
End up dancing on stage (you know me), end up surrounded by prostitutes, their pimp (an old woman) kept pushing me over to where her girls were, and i'm like HEY, i'm not for sale here. then she pushed her girls on me and i'm like HEY, i'm not buying here! then she pushed some dude on me and i'm like HEY, no deniro!! jesus! Let me dance!
Dancing up a storm to house music, get a ride in Sarah's truck somewhere else, and end up hanging out till 6 in the morning songs(she LOVES Tracy Chapman! heeeey), met some crazy people who all ended up being really cool, the drag queen just loved me--too funny!
and you know me, if it looks good i'll eat it, we were a little intoxicated late night and these people bought food and invited us to join. everything looked good so i just dug right in. i was CHOWING down when this one thai guy looks at me like i'm crazy and says YOU LIKE THAT? i'm like respond with an enthusiatic nod (too stuffing my face)! he makes this crazy face and then looks at me funny and says -- do you know what that IS?
i'm still eating it, "no."
then i get a little curious myself, what IS it, i ask as i swallow.
water buffalo intestines, raw!
how's that for yummy.
hehehe
and he' laughing in satisfaction like he thinks i'm going to be sick or something now that i know. he's just smurking!
and i just looked down at the plate, looked at him, looked back at the plate, everyone at the table is looking at me, and I just grabbed another handful of it, pop it in my mouth and said--HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!! in his face!
everyone just starts cracking up, some dude gave me a high five because a lot of people wont touch it i guess and i kept chowing.
i mean if i knew what it was, i might have hesitated, but it was GOOD,I swear!
hehehe
adventures in food to be continured!
:)
All the best my sweet little ones across the way!
Much love to you all,
South East Aisha
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Episode 1: Sensory Overload
Sawatdee kha!
To be honest, I'm starring at this computer screen and I have no idea how to eloquently some sum up a week in Bangkok in a few paragraphs! Do I tell you about the heat? the food? the people? the food? the traffic? the food? my job? the fruit (hehe)? the craziness of the city? how i have been lucky beyond belief? how much a BLEND in? the crafts and art? the crazy rains? the slums? the everyday life? or do I just write an entire email about food?
damn decisions!
How about you just pick what you want to hear...but food has to be one of them!! ;)
I'll start with this--my loss of control. No no, I didn't go Haitian/Israeli on some little thai guy for almost running me over with his motor bike (i'm getting quite used to that actually), instead it goes something like this....
After crashing at a hotel for the first night having arrived in Bangkok at midnight, I woke up bright and early to start my day. I was going to get the information on this apartment I was going to use (the hotel while only $25/night is much too expensive for Thailand), drop my stuff off, contact a few of my work contacts, and then explore the city. It was all suppose to go according to plan.
hehehehehe
I should also apologize to you. I told you I was going to the Land of the Thai, it was a lie, and I'm sorry. While I have seen quite a few Thais running around, I have seen many more 7/Elevens. Yes, this is the Land of 7/Elevens! Don't tell anyone to met you at a 7/Eleven, they are on EVERY block, sometimes two or three PER block! Fully equipped with slurpie machines, Dukin Donut cases, and the hot dog rotisserie things. LORD! At first I was thoroughly disgusted, and then slightly amused, and now I find them rather useful -- an endless source of cheap bottled water.
However, my contempt remains for the ugly and endless McDonalds, KFCs, Pizza Huts, Subways, AND...oh god...the..the...I can't even say it.................Starbucks!!!!!!!!! (insert piercing shreik!) WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHY???!!!!! And WHO do I see eating inside them???? You guessed it--AMERICANS!!!! (sigh!)
but I digress, my apologies again.
So, I started my day. I went to 7/11 to buy a phone card to activate the cell phone my director game me, and to call her for the apartment info. But the phone was locked and I apparently had to wrong code to unlock it. No problem, I brought an international calling card to call her. The pay phone didn't work. (deep breath) Found another one, can't dial. What the HELL is the contry code for the US?? (not wooooorking! please don't break the phone and scare the nice, little Thai people!!!) YOU IDIOT! It's 1, the country code is just the #1! YES!
She gave me a new code and some people here in Bangkok to contact. Unlocked the phone (YES!), inserted the card, the phone died immediately (NOOOO!). Gotta pay for the card anyway cause he had to open the package. (right!) Ok, went to call local contacts, no go, need a local calling card. (ok, it's ok!) Get a local calling card, why is man at 7/11 laughing at me?! Try to call, NOT working!! I swear I'm not a foll but HOW DO YOU DO THIIIIIIIS???????
(goddam*n it's hot in this country!)
Ok, figured it out, i was missing a zero! fine! Make SIX local calls, not ONE person is around! (dam*t, I just want some place to drop my luggage off!!!!) Last number to try, and this one is gonna work!!!
TEMPORARILY DISCONNECTED!!!!!!!!! (i do believe this is where a multitude of four letter words came out of my sweet little mouth!)
and then...it started to rain. And then I started to laugh!
And I surrendered my friends. I surrendered to Thailand, to traveling, to the circumstances of life, and I have had the best time ever since!
Bangkok is amazing! The streets are an array of sights, colors, and sounds -- the city is massive, mixed with modern sky scrappers down to the little shacks of tin and concrete squeezed into small side streets and along the rivers. Yet, there is the green on trees and various plant life squeezed in wherever possible. Bright green and yellow or blue and red taxis zip around the bigger buses, while hundreds of little black and teal motor bikes weave in and out of the taxis and sometimes on the sidewalks if they please, with their little horns and loud motors. Traffic is a constant.
And yet the sidewalks hold a traffic of their own. Hundreds of white shirts with blue or black bottoms of school uniforms travel like an army of ants up and down the streets, socializing or searching for the nearest "game center" where they can play video games on computers and scream and yell above the loud sounds of guns shooting and things blowing up on their screens, even though they played the game exact game yesterday and they'll play the same DAMN thing tomorrow and they just want to give me a headache as I try to get some work done on the neighboring computer! right, where was I?
In and out of the uniforms are the colors of everyday people doing everyday things, and highlighted amongst the crowd are specs of orange, as monks head here and there doing the things that monks do. (Here monks rely entirely on the generosity of the people, they begin their journeys at 5:30 am and walk the streets until 8:00 or so, where people wait to give them food. If no one gives them food, they will starve to death. Amazing and beautiful)
The calls of human voices rise above the drone of traffic eliminating from vendors on the street selling fruit, all kinds of delicious, delightful food, crafts, clothes, anything and everything. You can find the occasional elephant is just chilling on the street, helping his trainer sell bananas, there is an estimated 120,000 stray dogs in the city, and everyone is coming and going! The sounds of traffic and people are complimented by the smells of incredible food, exhaust, jasmine from the wreaths made for offerings and prayer, and this one fruit dorian!
*****INTERMISSION*******
I may not be spelling it right but let me just tell you about this experience and then I'll leave you alone for today. So, I'm adventurous right?! I mean, I'll go just about anywhere, try just about anything, I've had a wonderful experience eating only street food here (haven't even been to a restaurant yet), I've drank some of the local water, I'm traveling around the country by myself, and I think it's all good. So I see this fruit, it's large and green and has this spikes on the outside, immediately I'm like a little kid--hmmmm, I wonder what that is? I ask this guy, he smiles and says you'll either love it or hate it.
Sounds ok to me, and like a bit of a challenge, and damn me cause I love a challenge. So he gives me some, and smiles, and waits. I'm thinking fin--WHOA, what's that SMELL?? Oh yes, it's coming from the FRUIT! Sweet Jesus! It smells like, well, like a mixture of..well, all I can think of is the word putrid, and the images of rotting garbage, and carcasses, and the foulness of waste and death come to mind.
Ok fine. I mean some things just smell kind of strong but they aren't so bad...right?! I rise to the challenge, I take hold of the yellow fruit, it's rather firm on the outside, so far so good. I smile at him and take a bite. The firmer skin gives way to a creamy inside that bursts into my mouth, and I'm rather taken off guard by this overly creamy, mushy, terrible consistency mixture, but I'm chewing and..I'm ok. Immediately I think YES, I win, it's not so ba--AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!! OH MY GOD! GET IT OUT OF MY MOUTH! The second wave of the fruit hit and it was a sensory overload! My mouth was paralized! I couldn't move! I couldn't think! My mouth was frozen in mid chew, my nose hair crinkled, and my eyes started to water.
Somewhere in the far distance I hear roars of laughter, but I can't be concerned with that right now!
What to do? Lord what to do???
I want my mommy!!!
And all I can think is please so spit it out! Please don't spit it out in this man's face! PLEASE! And in a decision of self-sacrifice I chew, and chew, and pray, and chew, and swallow!!! The sounds of laughter get closer until my eyes can focus through the haze to the man who had given me the fruit. And I give him a weak smile and tell him in a barely audible voice that a thoroughly enjoyed the experience and thank y---AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! DEAR GOD!
THE AFTER TASTE!!
I lunged for my water! Not helping, not HEEEEEEEEELPING!!! Must numb senses!! HAVE MERCY!!!!!! And then I saw my salvation --RICE AND PEPPER! And I took in spoons fulls of rice with the red chiles that are no joke. And my mouth was on fire. And I was happy because I couldn't feel a thing!
The after taste, tastes like it smells!!! I don't know if that's possible or how to describe this to you, but it was like the smell of it had seeped through my tongue, permeated my nose, it just filled my entire face!
I was exhausted, and I had lost, and I admit it.
I just wanted to share that with you.
I haven't scared anybody yet really, mostly the Thais just stare at me in amazement, so I smile, and then they smile and then we both smile and everyone is happy.
This email is already entirely too long! If you're asleep, I'm sorry! I want to tell you about the massage I got, the slum I went to, the disparities I am finding in the field of trafficking, the flower market, the really nice couple who has given me a free place to stay for as long as I need, this crazy American who just up and moved here for no rhyme or reason (which is cool) but is afraid to try ANY of the local food, suspects that all the locals are trying to rip him off and are criminals (???), wants to learn to local language but refuses to practice any of it, brought 4 pairs of bright white sneakers which he plans to keep that way and every time that got dirty he had to stop and clean them (it's the RAINY SEASON, it's a CITY, HELLO?????????), thinks that middle class Thai living is poverty and wouldn't believe me when I told him it gets worse, and did I mention he styles his hair like Elvis?????!! Oh, I ran away, QUICKLY!!!
Anyway, much more to tell. I head to the north of the country next week to the Golden Triangle, where the border of Laos, Burma, and Thailand met to do some research up there.
I promise to send an entire email on trafficking, I know my experiences will be dramatically different once I head up there.
All the best and I hope this finds you well,
Much love
Aisha
Ps. The swear are edited for those of you who have work emails that won't permit my sailor mouth through!
To be honest, I'm starring at this computer screen and I have no idea how to eloquently some sum up a week in Bangkok in a few paragraphs! Do I tell you about the heat? the food? the people? the food? the traffic? the food? my job? the fruit (hehe)? the craziness of the city? how i have been lucky beyond belief? how much a BLEND in? the crafts and art? the crazy rains? the slums? the everyday life? or do I just write an entire email about food?
damn decisions!
How about you just pick what you want to hear...but food has to be one of them!! ;)
I'll start with this--my loss of control. No no, I didn't go Haitian/Israeli on some little thai guy for almost running me over with his motor bike (i'm getting quite used to that actually), instead it goes something like this....
After crashing at a hotel for the first night having arrived in Bangkok at midnight, I woke up bright and early to start my day. I was going to get the information on this apartment I was going to use (the hotel while only $25/night is much too expensive for Thailand), drop my stuff off, contact a few of my work contacts, and then explore the city. It was all suppose to go according to plan.
hehehehehe
I should also apologize to you. I told you I was going to the Land of the Thai, it was a lie, and I'm sorry. While I have seen quite a few Thais running around, I have seen many more 7/Elevens. Yes, this is the Land of 7/Elevens! Don't tell anyone to met you at a 7/Eleven, they are on EVERY block, sometimes two or three PER block! Fully equipped with slurpie machines, Dukin Donut cases, and the hot dog rotisserie things. LORD! At first I was thoroughly disgusted, and then slightly amused, and now I find them rather useful -- an endless source of cheap bottled water.
However, my contempt remains for the ugly and endless McDonalds, KFCs, Pizza Huts, Subways, AND...oh god...the..the...I can't even say it.................Starbucks!!!!!!!!! (insert piercing shreik!) WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHY???!!!!! And WHO do I see eating inside them???? You guessed it--AMERICANS!!!! (sigh!)
but I digress, my apologies again.
So, I started my day. I went to 7/11 to buy a phone card to activate the cell phone my director game me, and to call her for the apartment info. But the phone was locked and I apparently had to wrong code to unlock it. No problem, I brought an international calling card to call her. The pay phone didn't work. (deep breath) Found another one, can't dial. What the HELL is the contry code for the US?? (not wooooorking! please don't break the phone and scare the nice, little Thai people!!!) YOU IDIOT! It's 1, the country code is just the #1! YES!
She gave me a new code and some people here in Bangkok to contact. Unlocked the phone (YES!), inserted the card, the phone died immediately (NOOOO!). Gotta pay for the card anyway cause he had to open the package. (right!) Ok, went to call local contacts, no go, need a local calling card. (ok, it's ok!) Get a local calling card, why is man at 7/11 laughing at me?! Try to call, NOT working!! I swear I'm not a foll but HOW DO YOU DO THIIIIIIIS???????
(goddam*n it's hot in this country!)
Ok, figured it out, i was missing a zero! fine! Make SIX local calls, not ONE person is around! (dam*t, I just want some place to drop my luggage off!!!!) Last number to try, and this one is gonna work!!!
TEMPORARILY DISCONNECTED!!!!!!!!! (i do believe this is where a multitude of four letter words came out of my sweet little mouth!)
and then...it started to rain. And then I started to laugh!
And I surrendered my friends. I surrendered to Thailand, to traveling, to the circumstances of life, and I have had the best time ever since!
Bangkok is amazing! The streets are an array of sights, colors, and sounds -- the city is massive, mixed with modern sky scrappers down to the little shacks of tin and concrete squeezed into small side streets and along the rivers. Yet, there is the green on trees and various plant life squeezed in wherever possible. Bright green and yellow or blue and red taxis zip around the bigger buses, while hundreds of little black and teal motor bikes weave in and out of the taxis and sometimes on the sidewalks if they please, with their little horns and loud motors. Traffic is a constant.
And yet the sidewalks hold a traffic of their own. Hundreds of white shirts with blue or black bottoms of school uniforms travel like an army of ants up and down the streets, socializing or searching for the nearest "game center" where they can play video games on computers and scream and yell above the loud sounds of guns shooting and things blowing up on their screens, even though they played the game exact game yesterday and they'll play the same DAMN thing tomorrow and they just want to give me a headache as I try to get some work done on the neighboring computer! right, where was I?
In and out of the uniforms are the colors of everyday people doing everyday things, and highlighted amongst the crowd are specs of orange, as monks head here and there doing the things that monks do. (Here monks rely entirely on the generosity of the people, they begin their journeys at 5:30 am and walk the streets until 8:00 or so, where people wait to give them food. If no one gives them food, they will starve to death. Amazing and beautiful)
The calls of human voices rise above the drone of traffic eliminating from vendors on the street selling fruit, all kinds of delicious, delightful food, crafts, clothes, anything and everything. You can find the occasional elephant is just chilling on the street, helping his trainer sell bananas, there is an estimated 120,000 stray dogs in the city, and everyone is coming and going! The sounds of traffic and people are complimented by the smells of incredible food, exhaust, jasmine from the wreaths made for offerings and prayer, and this one fruit dorian!
*****INTERMISSION*******
I may not be spelling it right but let me just tell you about this experience and then I'll leave you alone for today. So, I'm adventurous right?! I mean, I'll go just about anywhere, try just about anything, I've had a wonderful experience eating only street food here (haven't even been to a restaurant yet), I've drank some of the local water, I'm traveling around the country by myself, and I think it's all good. So I see this fruit, it's large and green and has this spikes on the outside, immediately I'm like a little kid--hmmmm, I wonder what that is? I ask this guy, he smiles and says you'll either love it or hate it.
Sounds ok to me, and like a bit of a challenge, and damn me cause I love a challenge. So he gives me some, and smiles, and waits. I'm thinking fin--WHOA, what's that SMELL?? Oh yes, it's coming from the FRUIT! Sweet Jesus! It smells like, well, like a mixture of..well, all I can think of is the word putrid, and the images of rotting garbage, and carcasses, and the foulness of waste and death come to mind.
Ok fine. I mean some things just smell kind of strong but they aren't so bad...right?! I rise to the challenge, I take hold of the yellow fruit, it's rather firm on the outside, so far so good. I smile at him and take a bite. The firmer skin gives way to a creamy inside that bursts into my mouth, and I'm rather taken off guard by this overly creamy, mushy, terrible consistency mixture, but I'm chewing and..I'm ok. Immediately I think YES, I win, it's not so ba--AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!! OH MY GOD! GET IT OUT OF MY MOUTH! The second wave of the fruit hit and it was a sensory overload! My mouth was paralized! I couldn't move! I couldn't think! My mouth was frozen in mid chew, my nose hair crinkled, and my eyes started to water.
Somewhere in the far distance I hear roars of laughter, but I can't be concerned with that right now!
What to do? Lord what to do???
I want my mommy!!!
And all I can think is please so spit it out! Please don't spit it out in this man's face! PLEASE! And in a decision of self-sacrifice I chew, and chew, and pray, and chew, and swallow!!! The sounds of laughter get closer until my eyes can focus through the haze to the man who had given me the fruit. And I give him a weak smile and tell him in a barely audible voice that a thoroughly enjoyed the experience and thank y---AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! DEAR GOD!
THE AFTER TASTE!!
I lunged for my water! Not helping, not HEEEEEEEEELPING!!! Must numb senses!! HAVE MERCY!!!!!! And then I saw my salvation --RICE AND PEPPER! And I took in spoons fulls of rice with the red chiles that are no joke. And my mouth was on fire. And I was happy because I couldn't feel a thing!
The after taste, tastes like it smells!!! I don't know if that's possible or how to describe this to you, but it was like the smell of it had seeped through my tongue, permeated my nose, it just filled my entire face!
I was exhausted, and I had lost, and I admit it.
I just wanted to share that with you.
I haven't scared anybody yet really, mostly the Thais just stare at me in amazement, so I smile, and then they smile and then we both smile and everyone is happy.
This email is already entirely too long! If you're asleep, I'm sorry! I want to tell you about the massage I got, the slum I went to, the disparities I am finding in the field of trafficking, the flower market, the really nice couple who has given me a free place to stay for as long as I need, this crazy American who just up and moved here for no rhyme or reason (which is cool) but is afraid to try ANY of the local food, suspects that all the locals are trying to rip him off and are criminals (???), wants to learn to local language but refuses to practice any of it, brought 4 pairs of bright white sneakers which he plans to keep that way and every time that got dirty he had to stop and clean them (it's the RAINY SEASON, it's a CITY, HELLO?????????), thinks that middle class Thai living is poverty and wouldn't believe me when I told him it gets worse, and did I mention he styles his hair like Elvis?????!! Oh, I ran away, QUICKLY!!!
Anyway, much more to tell. I head to the north of the country next week to the Golden Triangle, where the border of Laos, Burma, and Thailand met to do some research up there.
I promise to send an entire email on trafficking, I know my experiences will be dramatically different once I head up there.
All the best and I hope this finds you well,
Much love
Aisha
Ps. The swear are edited for those of you who have work emails that won't permit my sailor mouth through!
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