Portraits

Traveling has brought me many things, including some troublesome adventure...

It was my last day on Koh Chang island with my dear friend Emily and we decided to rent a motorbike to explore the island with our English friends. We had been quite lazy enjoying the sea and the sand, tanning ourselves, reading books, and eating and drinking ourselves silly. This was the most proactive decision we had made all week! We rented the bike where our friends had and with a vague explanation of how to use the machine, we hopped on and were slowly off down the road, adrenaline feeding the engine. As I held on to Emily's hips she became a natural; I could feel her muscles loosen as she became a more confident driver. Koh Chang is notorious for its mountains, making the journey to each beach a curvy and steep ride. As we attempted to climb a hill, our bodies and bike almost vertical, a sharp turn took advantage of our speed and, in slow motion, the wheels were taken from under us, we crashed to the ground, slid across the pavement, into the other lane and into the ditch. It happen so quickly and so slow; I could see it all happening. My thoughts were so present..."ok, we're not making this turn, ok now the bike is tipping, ok now I am on the ground, ok now i can feel the cement on my skin, keep your head up natalie, ok now i am in a ditch, ok now i hurt, uhhhhhhh". We were both shocked but peeled ourselves off the ground and to our feet, brushing dirt and leaves off, and examining where the sharp, burning pain was coming from. We both had our fair share of road burn caked in dirt and we both were extremely lucky that there was no oncoming traffic to make our injuries worse. With the help of our friends that were following behind us, we made it back down the hill and to the pharmacy where they cleaned us up and we bought them out of bandages and antibacterial cream. It was incredibly painful to be cleaned up; from the intense pain and overwhelming emotional pressure in my chest, all I could do was hold Emily's hand and cry.

Unfortunately, there was no resting and healing on the island for me. The next day, as bandaged as I could be, I limped my way to a taxi, a airport, a change in flights, another airport, a tuk tuk, and into a guesthouse in Phomn Penh, Cambodia where I was going to start my time volunteering. That night, alone in my room, I slowly stripped my leg of its bandages to observe how my injury had managed the day. I knew that something wasn't right; could it be infected? why is it SO swollen? Am I just so emotional I cannot see right? The next day, as I was on a four hour bus ride to the coastal town that I would settle in, my leg throbbed, and my continual explanation to onlookers was getting to me. I arrived to the volunteer house, introduced myself and almost passed out. My leg was swollen like a papaya, throbbing like a heartbeat, burning, stinging, and forcing me onto the couch. The other volunteers circled me and said that sure enough, it's infected and I need some serious clean up. I spent the next fews days either in bed or on the couch, hobbling from one to the other. I would say the most painful part was when the bandage stuck to the wound and I had to rip off the developing scab. Not only did is hurt like nothing I had felt before, I was also alone in a hot room, feeling very isolated and depressed; all I needed was something familiar and comforting.

It has been three weeks and my scabs have fallen off and my sprained knee is begining to give me more movement. I can swim in the ocean now, without fear of more infection (the water is WAY to warm here for the salt water to be healing), and go on walks without feeling sore. I still cannot fully straighten or bend me knee but that will only take time and patience. I have some awesome large scars that sorta match my birthmark on my other leg and a good story. Most importantly, I have a new perspective on how blessed I am to have my body and mobility, with all that I can do with it, I lead an amazing life.....

The photos above are first of my scar, the infection, and the swollen leg on the second night.

stories reeling in my mind.....

Now that I am settled in Sihanoukville, my mind is dancing in the past memories and stories I have lived in such a short amount of time. I am surprised and interested in how and why certain experiences affected me more, how my openness and expectations served or failed me, and how I can preserve my new insight so it takes me even further into my travels. Again, I am uncertain how I can describe everything so it offers you a glimpse into my life; I will just have to settle with the images and moments that I retrace often...........

One arm holding onto the safety handle, the other cradling my dear friend as her head lays on my lap as she tries to find peace on the ferocious ride to Luang Prabang from Luang Nam tha. It is hot and dusty in the van, my window is open offering me no relief, and the driver is taking us on what feels like a suicidal mission ride; dodging trucks, children on bikes, stray dogs, and the edge of the road. I wonder, is this my last ride? How will my family know what has happened? Am I ready? What morbid thoughts! After the first four hours, we reached a place for lunch. I barely enjoyed my soup, head between my legs to prepare for the next few hours...Luang Prabang better be worth it! (and it was!)

Guided down a narrow walkway, led by our new friend, we are bombarded with smells of fermented fish, fried coconut and bananas, stir fried noodles, jeow, barbecued fish and chicken, offers of beer lao and a good deal. We gather tastes of everything to satisfy our bellies. We tell tales of travel and home. As we walk through the night market we are tempted to purchase wooden bowls, silk textiles, bags, t-shirts that obviously state your status as a "felong", handicrafts, laolao, silver jewelry, and much more...but leave empty handed with the promise that it will repeat the next night. As the town quiets for the night, we grab beers and head to the Mekong riverbed, dry like a dessert, and so inviting for moon gazing, star counting, and late night giggles and caress....

Cold terra cotta tiles are my only relief as I lay defeated on the bathroom floor. My only vision is a porcelain bowl. Everything I have consumed the last few weeks leaves my body over and over from every direction until I have nothing left except the few drops of water I sip to revive me but again my body rejects it. Emily sits behind me on the floor, her hand on my back brings me so much comfort. I feel so thankful to have her with me otherwise this moment, or these hours, would feel so lonely.

fish steaming in a banana leaf, a dish I learned in a lao cooking class.....our bungalow on a lagoon on koh chang.....one of the rivers that hug luang prabang.....river crossing into laos.....

a mixture from days past

doing what i do best....chaing mai on the river....adorable little girl at a flower festival in the mountains of northern thailand....early morning offerings for the monks....temple at sukhothai

market in luang prabang.....a magical swimming hole above and below a waterfall, mermaids looking out into the jungle.....silk worms feasting.....rice patties drying....

streets of Luang Prabang....mosaic temple......offerings.......drunk from lao lao, up too many stairs at a temple and trying to smile pretty, without laughing....

trying my hand at dancing at a Lao wedding....silk weaving....small village in hills near Luang Nam tha.....processing cotton.....rice fields.....

dog meditating at the temple.....feasting, what i do best.......buddhas feet......one of many sunsets in Tak

market

....mango, papaya, baskets of sticky rice, bottles of oyster sauce, piles of tamrind, banana leaves, blocks of congealed blood, roots of ginger and galanga, jackfruit and durian, buckets of fermented fish, coconuts, miniture eggplant, marigolds for offerings, chicken feet, palm oil, rose apples, limes, gleaming silvery fish, beef kidney, egg noodles, condensed milk for coffee and tea, morning glory, donuts, lemongrass, beetles, steaming soup, old levi's, bustling buyers, motorbikes, tuk tuks, 'Hello hello! You like here....!'

Luang Nam Tha

The little dusty town of Luang Nam Tha; surrounded by dry rice fields, towering mountains. a smokey haze reminding you of the current season of sunshine and the desperation for rainfall. We arrived by van and tuk tuk in the company of a kind German couple. The unexpected journey here was a fortune of the sky and its unwillingness to provide moisture the last four months. The lack of rain has resulted in a dry riverbed and the passage by boat to Luang Prabang was merely impossible. Little did we know that Lunag Nam Tha would bring us rest, a memorable and authentic Lao wedding, and traveling companions turned friends.

On our second day, we rented bicycles, this time with proper gears and tires, and were led by our guide Somlak. Up red dusted roads, into the forested hills, through a Lamet village where we saw bamboo making and beautiful gentle faces of women and children in traditional dress, we found ourselves at a modest waterfall that was half its size due to the season. We continued on west on the main road where a group of young boys challenged us to a race before we turned off down another dirt road, leading us to a village built on stilts; bamboo woven homes standing above ground. Laundry of traditional textiles hang to dry below as children, dogs, chickens and pigs play, women squat over open fires, and men huddle in groups. Here, we came across a "moonshine" distillery right on the side of the road. Women with their babies in tow, hovered over the container of soaked sticky rice that is steamed and turned into lao lao or lao whiskey. We were offered a shot; its warm, sweet flavor satisfied our pallet which pleased the makers. Onward, we stopped to watch another group of women weave beautiful colored silk; such intricate patterns created with such ease and precision.

With the sun beating down on us and stomachs growling, we stopped along the Mekong river and feasted on vegetables and Jeow-a traditional Lao dish that resembles salsa but with local flavors of smoked eggplant and tomatoes, chili, garlic, lemongrass, and lime. Stuffed and sleepy, Somlak politely asked if we would join him at his friends wedding. Knowing that this was an opportunity not to pass up, we agreed and biked to the festivities with no clue what we were getting into-which is what makes it so appealing!

We arrived and were asked to take our hair down as only the bride wears it up. We entered the tent of which hundreds of people congregated and we were handed our first of 8 shots of lao lao. Somlak led us to a table of his friends and a quick glance around, we were the only "felongs" (foreigners) there; all eyes and whispers on us. Immediately, we were offered more lao lao, as the mother of the bride travels from table to table carrying a plastic bottle of the whiskey and a communal shot glass that she refills for the guests. Its hard to decline because one, it tastes good, and two the obvious stare from the other guests forces the liquid down. It didn't take long before we were asked to dance which only put us more in the spotlight! Somlak got up to sing, his voice blaring through the speakers, guiding us for the dance---slowly walking in a circle, hands delicately moving, one step toward your partner than back another passing them like a dosey-doe. Around and around, everyone moved slowly, mostly due to the heat and slight drunkenness.

After getting wasted, Somlak insisted that we ride to the local temple, another few kilometers away and 176 steps up stairs to the top; the three of us drunk and laughing at our state of being and of our unbelievable experience we just had. Somlak timidly asked us if we had a good day and if we would like to go back to the wedding. Yes, we had a fantastic day but were in need of a nap to recover. However, Somlak, the villages, the wedding, and the lao lao will be a story never to forget!