spooky…and I don’t mean in a halloween sense.

Last night, my best friend’s house was broken into, during the 30 minutes we were at the grocery store. 5 of us had been carving pumpkins. Unfortunately, since the intruder broke through a side window in my friend’s bedroom, this was not noticed until after everyone had left.
It freaked me out; I feel a bit guilty that I didn’t stay the night, as had been my plan. As it was, she called the police and then one of our male friends, who went over and spent the night on her couch.
With both of my male roommates out of town (as was her fiancee), this freaks me out a little bit. We’re both very independent females, living in fairly decent neighborhoods, but this is something that I’m not too comfortable with. Even when I lived in less-desirable areas, I’ve always had other people living with me-typically men who own guns. God bless America and its 2nd amendment, I actually do feel safer being able to defend my house.

The Conversation that rattled me.

A few days ago, my traveling companions and I were invited to play “volleyball” with our hosts. Unfortunately for us, our opponents neither followed the standard, international rules of volleyball, nor did they care to explain the local rules to us before the game began. And so it was, that I wound up sitting in the back of a van and pouting for a good two hours, sharing gripes with one of my buddies.

After a decent amount of time spent trash-talking our host nation (neither of us are very happy here), we lapsed into a quiet moment.

Then I asked a question that’s been bugging me: “Can you be a Christian if you don’t believe that Jesus was the son of God?”

To which I received the answer, “No. Absolutely not.” He then went on to explain that it’s one of the fundamental beliefs of Christianity, and of course Jesus was the son of God.

We discussed some other religions that we’ve researched, namely Islam and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints (Mormonism), and then talked some about deeply spiritual moments for us. He referred to those as “being saved” and being “on fire”-the latter description I agreed was a good way of describing them.

I still felt really rattled, since I personally don’t believe that Jesus Christ was anything more than a wonderful teacher whose message was received by many. Being told that I cannot be a Christian-which is what I consider myself to be-really shook me.

Some things I have learned this year…

In seven months, I have visited six countries: Thailand, Japan, Republic of the Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Singapore. I’ve learned a few things along the way; some of these are merely ancdotal, while some are useful. Some are pure whining. I hope you enjoy reading these. I certainly enjoyed learning!

Airports, no matter which one, nor which country, are stressful. Suck it up.

The South China Sea is beautiful from any beach. Malaysia has the most beautiful beaches to enjoy it.

Pattaya is the most over-rated destination in Thailand.

Jakarta’s traffic is worse than New York City, the smog is worse than Los Angeles, and even if you think you’re getting a good deal you’re most likely getting ripped off.

Tarsiers are adorable, and worth going through all the other tourist traps to visit.

Volcanoes are immensely, austerely beautiful. And if you can, hike down into the crater. Just make sure you have a plan to get back out.

The ex-pats in any country will tell you all the best & worst things about the country you are in. Listen. It may help you out down the road.

Try not to eat anything fried from a hawker stall, unless you really enjoy taking immodium for three days after. Better yet, try not to eat any meat from hawker stalls. Best, try to survive on rice & fresh veggies. Your digestive tract will thank you.

If you’re female, you really should try to cover up as much as possible. Yes, it’s hot outside. Yes, you’re used to wearing shorts and tank tops. Yes, the local men will stare at you, cat-call you, hit on you, harass you. They do it to local women, too. Cover up more, get harassed less. Just think of what you’ll save on sunblock.

Speaking of sunblock, bring plenty with you, or you can expect to pay three times as much for a bottle as you would back home.

Don’t pet the dogs. They’re probably feral, and even if they aren’t, they’re not used to it.

Unless you’re in a department store, haggle!

Insist on metered taxis. Don’t get in the cab unless the driver turns the meter on. Really, don’t.

Walking is one of the best ways to explore any city.

Try the local food! But learn the words for chicken, beef, pork, etc. Especially if you have allergies.

If it’s small, green, looks like a bean, and someone urges you to try it, it’s most likely a chili. Chilis in Asia are hotter than any that grow in North America. Consider yourself warned.

When traveling in Muslim countries, you will hear the calls to prayer five times a day. They’re quite beautiful. Don’t be the ugly one who cusses when this happens (you hear me, Chris? George?)

Don’t eat the duck in Indonesia. Or chicken. There’s no way of telling where they’ve been, and I’ve seen huge flocks drinking & bathing in raw sewage, just hours before becoming dinner.

Always greet people. You will be amazed at the friends you will make this way.

There are coffee shops in every city, town, village, and remote settlement on the continent. They will make very strong coffee and mix sweetened condensed milk into it. There are also Starbucks Coffeehouses in every airport and shopping mall on the planet, and they will make your coffee exactly how you want it.

You can find beer in any country. Whether it’s any good or not is another thing entirely.

Thai whiskey will sneak up on you. Be careful.

San Miguel is incredibly cheap beer and remarkably good.

Chendol is worth trying. My brother Jay and I are now addicted to it.

Traveling with friends means you share the experience.

Durian is one of the most disgusting fruits ever, even if you can stomach the smell long enough to try it.

Everyone will ask if you are married. If you are, they will ask about your children. If you are not, they will probably try to play matchmaker.

Lonely Planet guidebooks are good for starting ideas; don’t depend on them to be accurate. New hotels and restaurants open all the time, ownership/management so change, and that nice family-owned guesthouse visited two years ago could well have turned into a brothel.

Those “really nice girls” who “work” at the bar? You’re not the first one they’ve “worked” for. Wear a raincoat.

Malaria is incurable. Mosquito repellant is not optional. If you have anti-malarial medication, take it.

Keep a journal.

Take your camera everywhere. And make sure you have fresh batteries. Ten minutes after your daytrip to an island begins is not the time to discover this.

If your car/van/bus breaks down, explore the countryside.

Walking through rice paddies is like walking through a marsh. You will sink ankle-deep in muddy water.

Don’t drink the tap water, unless you enjoy having your body wracked by parasites.

Don’t play football/soccer barefoot, for the same reason.

Bring a bottle of water along, but know that every tiny village has a store where you can get refreshment.

Many toilets are holes in the ground. Keep tissues with you and learn to squat.

Surrealism at its strangest

This morning brought an interesting twist to my life.

There I was in the hotel cafe, stirring my coffee while enjoying the first cigarette of the day, when my cell phone rang. There’s only one person who has this number-my boss-so of course I answered it.

“Where are you?”

I’d like to point out that, coming from my boss, this is hardly considered rude.

“Having breakfast,” I replied.

“Ok. Some things have changed. You cannot leave the hotel.”

This is a little strange. I have become very accustomed to exploring cities on my own, and seldom have I even been warned to stay away from certain areas. (My “spidey-sense” is pretty good, and my boss recognizes this. His might be better.)

He then asked, “Have you watched the news?”

I hadn’t. I had not even turned on the television this morning. However, this sent one of those chills up my spine, since the last time I received a phone call at ten o’clock in the morning asking if I’d watched the news was back in September of 2001.

Then he tells me, “Two hotels here were bombed this morning. Stay put, I’ll be calling you periodically.” The line disconnected.

I usually appreciate the fact that he doesn’t boter with good-byes; this time, I found myself in a fog that could have come as easily from my smoldering cigarette as the confusion I felt. I looked around the cafe. Everyone looked fine, happy even. I did what everyone else seemed to be doing: finished my breakfast and left.

Of course, instead of embarking on my planned day of shopping (I’d spotted a Kate Spade wallet that matched my passport case in the mall last night), I returned to my room and turned on the TV.

CNN and BBC both told me the same thing: The JW Marriott and the Ritz Carlton were bombed at about eight this morning. Both hotels’ cafes seemed to be hit the worst. Spooky. That’s where I was in my own hotel when I found out about this.

I immediately jumped onto my computer and checked the newsfeeds. They all told me the same thing: The hotels were bombed at about eight this morning, six confirmed dead, four of those were foreign nationals, no one is claiming responsibility yet.

I’m still stuck in the hotel. I cannot even venture into the shops here; my room, the gym, and the business center are the only places I’m allowed. Granted, all these developments are only about three hours old…but it seems like so much longer, when all you can do is wait.

While I’ve been writing, the death toll has bumped up to 9.

Disgusting are the people who inhabit this world

I see hypocrisy everywhere. To be sure, in Bangkok I will find plenty. The married men chatting up the “buy-me-drinky” girls…the men in tank tops with their women covered head to toe…the women in full niqaab with perfectly shaped eyebrows…the women in micro-mini skirts who abhor the objectification of their gender…the people who want to end poverty, dropping coins into every beggar’s hat…

…and even myself, the girl who cannot admit to herself, let alone the world, what she believes and what she wants…and takes a road of self-destruction to proclaim her disillusionment.

Is there any way out of this?

Amazing.

If an incredibly gorgeous man, whom you have known for a while, asked you to take advantage of him, would you decline?

I always thought the answer would be no. I proved myself wrong tonight.

Some things are just not worth it. My relationship with my boyfriend is the biggest one. My friendship with the man in question is another. My own self-worth, is a third.

Is hijab really oppressive?

Everything I read holds a different opinion. Most Americans seem to hold the opinion that it’s oppressive. Yet many Muslimah’s think hijab is liberating. I think I’d like to figure that out for myself.

In less than a week, I’ll be in Jakarta, Indonesia. For those of you who didn’t know before, Indonesia is the world’s largest Muslim country. Wearing hijab is not compulsory there, however…being rather tall, blonde, and female tends to attract attention in SE Asia. I know this, because I’ve been here for the past six months. And I’m rather fed up with the kind of attention I attract, even when I’m dressed conservatively (at least by American standards). So, I’m going to try blending in a bit more. I obviously can’t hide my height, but my hope is that by covering up a bit more, I can avoid the inevitable come-ons and rude comments.

I’ve talked it over with my boss, who told me to go right ahead. I’ve talked it over with my boyfriend, who thinks it’s an “interesting” idea, and wants pictures. I mentioned it to the only other female in my group, who seemed appalled at the idea and firmly stated that she would not cover herself up.

So, I’ll see how it goes.

Alone in a crowd…and feeling it.

In a city with over 8 million inhabitants, it seems that I’ve let myself fall into a rather horrid depression. By nature, I am a very social person. I have many friends and acquaintances, and remain very close with my family.

So being by myself, in such a large city, is getting me down.

I have no desire to go out and find a bar or nightclub, the malls are all closed, and the skytrain stops running in twenty minutes. Last night I ate in a restaurant, by myself, and that was so embarrassing that tonight I ordered room service. Independence and isolation are entirely different from each other. I am independent, and I value that. At the moment, I am also isolated, and whining about it. Calling room service to collect the remains of my dinner is appealing, if for no other reason than I get to hear another voice.

One positive outcome of this experience: I now understand what my dad must have gone through, with all his business trips during my childhood. It isn’t easy.

Bored in Bangkok

Something must be wrong with me.

I am in the “City of Life” in “The Land of Smiles”…and I’m bored.

Right now, it’s raining fairly intensely. From the window of my hotel room I can watch as the rain falls, changing its mind about which direction to take as it makes its journey from the gray clouds above to the gray pavement below. I can see the people on the skywalk shy away from the railings, trying not to get soaked as they wander from one shopping mecca to the next.

The weekend market was rather fun…and I still have my one-day pass to the BTS. And I can get to the station without ever having to get my hair wet. But I’d rather stay here, in my hotel room, and order room service.

In case you are wondering why my schedule isn’t packed with sightseeing, despite a little rain, I am not here on holiday. I am, in fact, here for work…but a Buddhist holiday resulting in a four-day weekend left me here, in a five-star hotel, by myself. My only friends in Thailand live about seven hours’ drive away, and I’m pretty sure they can’t afford the gas to come visit me.

I’ve been growing braver in my explorations of foreign cities (hence, the BTS pass), but there’s still something about being female, white, blond, and by myself that makes me nervous to venture too far. The fact that I don’t speak any Thai-save “Hello, Thank-you, Yes, No”-doesn’t help my confidence any.

I wish I were back in the States. I’ve been gone for too long, and I miss my crumbling cities. And blending into a crowd.

Are they praying or wishing?

This afternoon I ran into my Chief in the hotel lobby, and we chatted for a little while about the Erawan Shrine. Yesterday, I watched people praying-at least, I thought at the time they were praying. Today, I learned that the Erawan Shrine is considered a very lucky place for wishes.

Wishes. That threw me.

Wishes, I thought, were just that. You can wish upon a star. You can wish at a well.

I think there’s something very strange, about wishing at a statue of a god.