Oh Dhaka. This is a brief description of what living in Dhaka is like. I have been living amongst you and your beautiful people for 2 years now, and I have had some amazing experiences...from exploring the markets filled with the stench of rotting cow hides and over crowded chicken pens to freshly slaughtered goats and cow carcasses hanging throughout...the sound of the hot sun on the tin roof, the noticeably blood stained floor, the smell of stale air and the sight of men dressed in white robes holding sharpened machetes in preparation for EID. In addition to the markets, I have been exposed to more textiles than I ever thought possible...designs, colors, material. To go with the textiles, there are tailors on every street corner. Tailors who make whatever you can dream up. Whether you are walking or driving, you will first hear Beggers. In your car...you hear tap, tap, tap on your window and upon first glance you see that they are missing if not one arm, but two. You wonder how that happened for a brief moment. It's hard to look away, but the more you look, the longer they stay. You put your window down for a brief moment to say "Jao", or "leave", and a waft of this stale, all too familiar smell envelopes your car...the urine soaked streets, the unregulated factory byproduct, the smell of burning plastic and dead rotting animals... It takes your breath away. As you sit in traffic, you see stacks of books and DVDs for sale, baskets and flowers, and more beggars. You all of a sudden miss traffic lights and lanes and rules of the road. My driver once told me, "Madam, everyone knows the rules. No one follows them", and yet somehow, some way, people get from point A to point B without incident (although the other day a rickshaw wallah jumped off his moving rickshaw to fetch something and his rickshaw slammed into the side of my car...I kept going and he got what he had lost). There were days when I couldn't see the end of the street through the thick, dense and brown brick fog that line the streets and blanket the city of 44,500 souls who reside in this city. Thunderstorms, electrical outages, terrorism, endless construction, brick breaking, photo walks, floods, incredible heat, polluted air and typhoid infected water...my senses have been on overload since moving here in July 2015 and now I am preparing to leave. To leave a place that has tugged at my heart, daily. The children, the poverty, the smiles, the hard work that I see each and every day inspires me and allows me to find gratitude in the smallest moments of my day. To you Dhaka, I say Dhonobad and Abar Dekka Hobbe.
After having just returned from an adventurous week in Myanmar, I feel completely grounded and connected. It's amazing what a week can do for the mind, body and soul. I spent the majority of my time alone and found myself, more often than not, quiet and not having uttered a word throughout the entire day. I started my trip with a quick stop over in Yangon, before catching a flight on Air KBZ to Bagan. When I arrived in Bagan, there really wasn't much to see, until I got to the resort (that my friend highly recommended) and rented a motorbike right-a-way! It was around $5USD for all day use. What a bargain! So, I grabbed a map (who uses those in this day in age), and began exploring. About 1 minute down the road, I saw my first Pagoda. It was brick, crumbly and beautiful. I continued on for a few more minutes, and began to notice all these turn offs on the road, so I took one. Endless Pagodas...for as far as the flat land you could see! The dirt and dust was plenty, as was the opportunity to take photographs. Being on a motorbike made this task quite laborious, and it was too hot to get off and walk the far distances between each cluster of Pagodas, so I stopped and started, over and over again, sometimes getting stuck in the deep sand (grateful for all that snow in New England...I rocked the bike back and forth eventually getting it un-stuck!). Time and time again, the photo opportunities were endless. I found myself wanting, needing, begging for a wide angle lens to catch all the beauty inside the ever so tiny pagodas that I was visiting. The Buddha, the writing on the wall, the crumbing brick...it was all so much to take in at once. After having explored all afternoon, I settled in for dinner at the hotel. It was a long first day and I still had 2 full days ahead of me. What to explore next? Well, the three days that I spent wandering around Bagan landed me at a local's house with my face being painted, a run through the pagodas at sunset, eating at a local "Be Kind To Animals" lunch and dinner spot with cheap and delicious food, and a pool that I could relax at and actually finish the book that I had started on the plane "Into Thin Air", which connected me to another place that is so very special to me, Nepal. I hopped another quick Air KBZ flight to Heho, which is where you will find Inle Lake. The resort I stayed at came highly recommended, and it was just awesome. Sanctum Isle Resort knows how to take care of their guests. Their first suggestion was that I take one of their bikes down to the foot bridge and take a tour on one of the "kayaks" in the village. I did just that. One of my favorite memories of my time at Inle Lake. This older woman sat quietly, while a younger boy talked to me in his very good English about all that Inle Lake had to offer. He told me about life on the lake, and how everyone had electricity and even TV! He told me that the water level was low and that during the rainy season, their floating tomato gardens grow quickly. He explained how they carved out boats and that people who live on stilted houses over the water, are a different "people" than the people who live in the hills. "We don't mix" he told me. Once I got on the boat with the old woman, she paddled away, at a snail's pace passing a man lost among the bamboo, a woman doing her laundry in the lake, a child looking on from the window above. Young boys transporting the most beautiful dark, moist soil, that I have ever seen, women working int he tomato fields from their canoes. Everyone was working. The village was quiet, calm and peaceful...making it almost mysterious. The sun was blazing down from high in the sky, as canoes floated by gently knocking into each other, a soft smile and wave would be exchanged by fellow villagers...After my time first day in Inle, I awoke to the beautiful sound of birds and was surprised by an absolutely amazing breakfast at the resort before I hopped another boat to tour the vastness of the pristine lake below! I found myself wanting to share in the experience with someone. A partner. Friend. Relative. Someone to talk to...but there was nobody. It is difficult to travel alone sometimes, "Will anyone else be joining you this evening?" that I heard day after day, meal after meal...it wears on you after a while. Then, you realize that you are not alone. You might be traveling alone, but you are surrounded by smiles, fresh air, mother earth and all it has to offer. You appreciate more than just good conversation. You begin to notice the world around you. You actually do stop and smell the roses, because what else is there to do. One of my most favorite memories in Inle Lake was when I took one of the resort bikes out for a spin. I began peddling up a big hill toward a massively huge pagoda, and along the way down, I saw a girl trying to get her bicycle with training wheels going. She was trying to go up hill and wasn't getting very far. Naturally, I grabbed my camera, because what is sweeter than a little girl on her bicycle. She kept trying, and I kept shooting. When the thought passed my mind, "I should help her"...I did just that. I saw her dad upstairs in the window smiling down, and I gestured toward him to see if it was okay to push her up the hill. He nodded and I crossed the street. I put my hand on the back of the seat, and one on the handlebars, smiling at the little girl, I began to push. Just like my dad did when I was her age. We went up the hill a ways and then back down. The little girl didn't smile, until after I had crossed back to my own bike and we connected eyes. I waved goodbye to her and her dad, both with grins ear to ear, put my sunglasses over my eyes and began to cry. I cried all the way down the hill and back to the resort, wondering if it would ever be me, with my own child...
Goats are a new found love of mine. I never really thought much about goats before I came to Bangladesh. I never had any interactions with them, but here in Dhaka...I see goats everywhere! When I go to the market they are frequently tied up for slaughter, in preparation, for holidays like Eid. I also see many goats occupying the "free range" status...hanging out in streets eating grass or trash. In addition to Dhaka, I have seen a variety of goats during my holiday travels in Nepal, Indonesia, India, Thailand, Norway, Ireland and Ghana. The goats are all so very different. I have grown, over the past year, to just love goats. Plus, they are hilarious. The more time I spend around them, the more I get to know them. Hilarious because they have such personalities, especially seen, and enjoyed, when they are in a group. I visited a goat farm this summer in Townshend, VT and was able to see their little personalities as they spent time in their small families of 3-4 goats. They each were so different, yet so neat. One thing they all had in common, was that they were so snuggly and lovely. When I think of goats I think of this- horned, hopping, head-butting, hugging, and humble creatures, and plus...have you seen their rectangular pupils and felt their warm, care-free spirits! What's not to love....
Oh Iceland...you reinvigorated my soul, touched my heart and left me with an intense connection...to myself, the Earth and the Universe. With Gratitude to you Raw mother earth, I will always feel your connection & vibration, see your green pastures & massive glaciers in my memory, feel your energy, and yearn to see your volcanic black sand beaches again soon. The experience you gave me allowed me to be quiet in my body, crisp in my thoughts, and feel connected to my world. You are a special place.
While sitting in my mom's kitchen one evening, almost 2 years ago, our conversation began to shift focus from education, family, health, cooking tips, new jobs and new partners to the fact that my mom was turning 60 soon. As the conversation continued to flow, I soon asked her what she wanted for her birthday, and thinking that I would hear something along the lines of, "Oh nothing really. Just you kids all here"...in case any of you are wondering, this was not the response I heard. What I heard was, "I would love a trip to Ireland". Thoughts of hope and excitement were soon dashed with thoughts of, "Of course it was a joke, a faraway fantasy that she had been dreaming of since she was a little girl"...and then my heart took over, wanting so badly to do something as special as this for my mom..."Could I? I don't think so. Wait...I can and I will, but I won't tell her just yet!" I knew that night, sitting in my mom's kitchen, that I was going to take her to Ireland.As far back as I can remember, I have never seen or heard my mom ask for help or anything. So, when I heard my mom ask for a trip, it took me back a bit. I thought to myself, "She must really mean it, because she doesn't ask for anything ever". She doesn't ask for bday presents (Just a visit and dinner), nor does she ask for help in the kitchen, she doesn't need help with car maintenance (not like I could help anyway), and she certainly doesn't need help with anything that has to do with technology. She is a whiz. A wee bit of history... At 36, my mom had a 13, 12 and a 9 year old to support, on her own. She continued to rarely, if ever, ask for help. I'm sure it was difficult. She left what she thought was going to be her life, and ours...and never looked back. She probably cried herself to sleep sometimes, like we did, missing what once was, or what would be of our new life. She might have even stayed up late, wondering how on earth she was going to pay the electric bill, rent, or even small things for us...like soccer cleats and baseball gloves. My mom never faltered, and even if she did, the three of us never knew it. As the years passed, I continued to watch my mom continue to make it on her own, without help, and without fail. Looking back, I now see a mom who was incredibly resourceful and undeniably selfless. I only saw a small piece of this as a child by watching her sew my clothes for school, or neuter a cat herself on the kitchen table, and now as an adult only knowing a small piece, I am so grateful for all that she did for our family...to keep it together, to continue to give of herself.As resourceful as my mom had to be, she continued to put us first...even on a tight budget, she was able to create home cooked meals with frozen vegetables (fresh was too expensive and canned was not an option!), made leftovers taste delicious, held the line on discipline with phrases like, "As long as you live under my roof...and keep off the rug while I am cooking". I'm not sure how she did it, but through it all my mom still found the time to get to my softball games, volunteer in our band program at school and set strict curfews so that we could maintain structure in a world, that I am sure felt like absolute chaos to my mom most days. Mom, cheers to you. Thank you for your commitment to maintaining structure, setting expectations and loving us, on even what seemed like the most unloveable of days. When I heard you say that you wanted a trip to Ireland, my heart sank and soared simultaneously. I knew that I could do it for you, if I set my heart in the right place, like you did for us for those long years when you were on your own, cheering for us in some of your most darkest days. So, my gift to you, a trip to Ireland is my way of saying happy birthday to you, but also to show you that you, too, deserve to feel the gift of giving. With gratitude for your tireless commitment to me. A trip to Ireland will never express my fullest gratitude I feel for you, but I hope that for those 11 days spent together, you felt the commitment, love and warmth that I felt from you all those years.
My brother moved to Norway 5 years ago. It wasn't until the last year that I was able to financially swing a visit! I have seen him twice in the last year. I feel so grateful that he has chosen such a beautiful place to live, and that we have had the chance to spend time exploring and seeing two very different parts of the country together...
Africa, the motherland. The land full of history & mystery...I had only seen and heard about this beautiful land...I began my exploration in and around Accra with a taxi driver turned tour guide, at least temporarily. National forests, the gold coast, & busy markets in the heart of Accra...
Living in Dhaka, Bangladesh has it's perks, for sure...travel is one of them! It is 1.5hr flight to Nepal and Bhutan. It's 2hrs to Bangkok, and a 3hr flight to Sri Lanka. Given all the perks, living in Dhaka can also be quite difficult. There is no adequate health care services, limited access to clean water, frequent power outages, endless stares from men, and pollution and poverty, that at times, doesn't seem real. Leaving Dhaka is a must to find normalcy again. Bangkok is frequently visited by Expats, and the experience of leaving was once described by a friend as the following, "If you want something that feels normal, go to Bangkok where you have access to mostly everything you would ever want or need. You will blend in and feel "normal" again."
On the island of Vidoy, in the Faroe Islands, there happens to be the friendliest of sheep...most of the time sheep are curious, but when you get close, they become shy and reserved...not these sheep. Today, as the wind continuously blew through the northern most Faroe Islands, I found myself staying inside the car and driving slowly and taking in all of my surroundings...see below who I happened upon!
The wind in the Faroe Islands is well...strong to say the least. Before I came, all the photos I looked at and Blogs that I read, all talked about the dangers of the wind, fog and unpredictable weather. Well, they were right. The way the weather can change, is to say it bluntly, frightening...especially when you happen to be hiking on the side of a mountainside, with a cliff straight down to the water on the other side of the ridge. I took the car ferry from Klaksvik to Kalsoy in the middle of the winter. An island with only 20 inhabitants and no stores to grab a hot coffee. I brought the warmth of my rental car, a thermos filled with hot tea and snacks to keep me going as I ventured up one hill and down the other...with the wind sometimes at my front and other times helping me along from the back.
A collection of favorite photos from my 2 weeks traveling in Paris, France and Bergen/Lofoten Norway.
No sheep on the mountainside today. I was alone, with only the weather and it's unpredictability and the occasional ray of sunshine, which was a welcome relief to snow, hail, rain, wind and any other kind of weather one can experience... I spent most of the day trying to take in as much sunshine as humanly possible. And you guessed it, as soon as I came off the mountain, the storm rolled in. The beauty of being on top of the world, is that you can see weather approaching...for this, I was grateful. I was not scared hiking today, the winds were calm, and even though I was still on the side of a cliff, I was happy and content. No fear until the snow and driving collided as one. Down switchbacks I went, over a pass, with limited guardrails...and after a few unanswered texts that I sent to a friend for comfort, I continued onward and downward on my own...as the snow continued to fall, I tried to connect to my surroundings. They were raw, ready for anything, and strong. I took their advice and found myself at sea level safe and sound...full of gratitude.
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