some odds and ends

it's been ages since i had the chance to really write. thailand tales still await. in the meantime, there's this...

a new do!

fun party times!

a day on the boat!

oh, to be home

saturday was an epic san francisco day. while spending the afternoon lolling about in the sun (and rather cold wind) on "homo hill" in dolores park, as it is affectionately known, i witnessed something that, i'm sure, only happens in this city. a guy was wandering around offering happy chocolates to the sunbathers. i watched him make his way around the hill. then, i noticed something sparkle, something glint in the sunlight. the tell-tale copper bowls of the happy truffle guy. a smile spread across my face as i watched him set his two beautiful sets of bowls on the ground. it was good to know that he's still around. i then saw the happy chocolate guy stop at the same spot as the happy truffle guy. from a distance, i watched the happy chocolate guy buy a bag of happy truffles from the happy truffle guy. fabulous kizmet. ah, to be home...(you get the idea...)

later that evening, while walking to meet my friend for a drink at cafe flor in the castro, i caught sight of two sisters of perpetual indulgence (www.thesisters.org/) kneeling on the ground, talking to a 7 year old girl and her mom. i just had to stop and watch this interaction. if you know the sisters, you can imagine the mixture of fear and complete fascination they might inspire in a small girl. well, this girl was doing this dance around her mom, peeking out every few minutes from behind her mom's legs. the sisters were just wonderful. they were telling the girl that they had been giving blessings to lots of kids all night and they wanted to give her a blessing. she wasn't too keen on it. but they kept talking. telling her about their magical little box of blessing glitter. then they offered her something even more special: an angle pin that she could name for herself. they offered it to her, but she declined. she agreed to let her mom take it for safe keeping. she named the angle Julia.

when the mom and daughter departed, i had to tell the sisters what an amazing little interaction that had been for me to witness. i just felt this incredible surge of pride and total joy at the idea that here are these incredible people who "promulgate universal joy, expiate stigmatic guilt and serve the community." they just rock. and i told them as much. we chatted for a minute, and then they opened up their magical box and blessed me with a mixture of glitter, sand from the temple of isis and holy water from notre dame. it was a gift from their sisters in Paris. and then they gave me a red boa feather from Paris. it was ridiculous and wonderful. we hugged and kissed and i was on my way.

later at cafe flor, after a glass of wine with my friend, i walked inside to get another drink and was caught with my mouth agape at the gaggle of trannies in the corner, perhaps celebrating a birthday. apparently, it was a latina trannie fundraiser event at the cafe. who knew? the ladies were fierce. my friend called them mean disco balls with asses. and only in the best possible way. they were well endowed, to say the least, in every direction. and their outfits were, well, almost not really outfits at all. just little scraps of nylon strung together with rhinestones and gold lame. fabulous.

if that wasn't a day to remind me why i live in and love this city, i don't know what is. and today, at city hall, Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin, who have been together for over 50 years, were married in the one of the first same-sex weddings in California after the supreme court ruling. these sisters are in their 80's. it's good to be home...

my latest project

some of you may know that i've been working on a project for burning man this year called the temple of community. you can check it out here: http://tribes.tribe.net/templeofcommunity or here: http://www.bloodvessel.org/news.html

Mark your calendars for July 26th!

we'll be having a fundraiser for the project, which will coincide nicely with my 32nd birthday!

part 1: drifting into jasmine dreams

As many of you know, I landed back here stateside a little over a week ago. Finding my breathing room…finding some space to settle in…finding comfort in the familiar…it’s all a little strange. One gets so used to the discomfort of daily life as a foreigner in such foreign lands, relishes it, in fact. And now, as I find myself astounded that I remember how to get to Church and Market, know exactly where to find the hummus in Trader Joe’s, and am able to buy a damn good cup of coffee for less than $2, the comfort of home waxes and wanes in its enjoyment. I’m certainly happy to be home and I’ve had many adventures since I landed, but I can’t say my heart isn’t aching for a little bit of that Korean thrill of living. I haven’t had one single near-death cab experience in over a week. What kind of fun is that??!!

But there will be time to hash out the ins and outs of decompression and culture shock and all things related. Now is the time for some true travel tales of Thailand. It may take a handful of posts to get this whole trip sorted out for you, so stay tuned. This is only the beginning.

Bangkok to Chiang Mai
I landed in Bangkok on May 6^th. A whirlwind of a trip in Seoul followed by a soft landing and a lunch that proved to be one f the most memorable on my trip—so much so that I ended up returning for the same treats on my final day in that airport. At the Tate Café, I ate the most delicious fried green papaya salad. I had no idea you could do such a thing. It was greasy and spicy and totally not Korean food. (Don’t get me wrong here; I pine for Korean food daily. But the pure excitement of the taste of fresh basil, well, it can send a girl into orbit after a year’s absence.) I hopped my flight to Chiang Mai after finagling some luggage storage. Six hours after leaving Korea, I found myself in an air-conditioned taxi, zipping down the wrong side of the road (who KNEW?) next to the moat that borders the old city of Chiang Mai. My taxi driver was ever so gracious, getting a bit lost, stopping for directions, and finally, depositing me at the CM Blue House where I set up a home base for the next 8 days.

I walked into the loveliest of courtyard gardens, replete with waterfall fountain and twisting, winding jungle vines in every direction. The guest house was three levels. I met the lady of the house, and she took me up to my spacious second-floor room. And so there I was. Out of Korea. In Thailand. Alone for the first time in longer than I could remember in this room in a city I knew nothing about. Simultaneously, I felt intensely, almost painfully alone and completely, liberatingly free and thrilled about the next few weeks.

Before I jump in to the thrilling adventure part, I will say this: the thread of this loneliness ran in, out and around my experiences on this trip. At times, it wound itself so tightly, I felt I might not find the next breath. The letting go of everything—my students, my friends in Korea, Jim, everything about my life as I had known it for 19 months—the pain of the loss and the change came in waves of such intensity, I would quite literally find myself breathless, often crying in some random public place. I certainly had my fair share of anxious and desperate moments. And I have deep gratitude for those of you who were right there when I needed you. I know now—and I knew at the time—that this was all part of the journey, part of letting go and finding a new space for myself. Everything I felt and did and wrote was exactly what I needed to. And what I am infinitely proud of myself for is this: at each moment, when the pain set in and the tears came and I felt so very alone, I recognized the experience as a choice. I could choose to let the sadness of the loss take over, or I could choose to allow myself to feel what I was feeling, and then go out and find something to remind me that I was in THAILAND. No matter how sad I was, I never let it take over my trip. I reached out for help when I needed it, and I moved on. And then I did it all over again. But, always, I moved on.

Chiang Mai
And so, that first night in Chiang Mai, as sad as I felt, I kept myself out for as long as I could manage, walking and eating and drinking. Finding the streets I knew I didn’t need to hang out on—the ones with all the girly bars with the ladies hanging around waiting for their night to begin, and then finding the places that were definitely chill and fun. I ate the most delicious vegetarian curry and drank my first non-Korean beer at a place called the THC Rooftop Bar, where everything is made out of hemp and you sit under the cover of a bamboo roof on small little cushions at rattan tables while a mellow DJ plays a lot of dub and faux marijuana plants twinkle with Christmas lights and glowing lanterns of purple and red and orange sway in the warm breeze. There were signs everywhere saying that patrons should not use or bring drugs to the THC Rooftop Bar. Hmmm. I dunno. Seemed kinda ironic to me.

After the Rooftop Bar, I did some wandering, and found some seriously fancy and gorgeous hotels around town. Also walked by a man taking a “shower” standing up in the middle of the sidewalk wearing nothing but black briefs. He was pouring water from a bucket all over his body. Just getting clean in the middle of the road. I somehow missed the clump of small, groovy bars just one block up from my place, but I did manage to find another little bar where I could sit and write for a while. Tiny little place. All the ladies there were trannies—or “ladyboys” as they call themselves in Thailand. Super sweet people. Really chill atmosphere. A stage where a band plays regularly during the week. And as I sat there, this wild lizard went scurrying up the wall. Pale, almost translucent, the same color as the stucco wall behind me. Bad speakers played really bad 80’s soft rock remixes. I drank a beer and settled into my first night in Thailand. Walked back down to my guest house, passing by an empty lot where the cacophony of frogs and bugs and jungle critters became a familiar and soothing sound each night I returned to the place. I definitely came to love that little soi (side street in Thai) with it’s delicious cafes and stinky street market and funky little bar where rasta Thai guys played Nirvana’s “Unplugged” every night.

The night was a rough one. I stayed up too late and woke up a little bit dazed by the whole evening. But I had a big day planned—lots of walking and temple-seeing and massages and such. So off I went, stopping first at what came to be my favorite little breakfast joint, Da’s Bakery and Café. I ate the most delicious muesli, yogurt and fruit with think hilltribe mountain coffee every morning in Chiang Mai. And the juices. My god. Anywhere you wanted you could get the most incredible juices for about $1. I felt like I was splurging at Da’s spending a whole $4 on breakfast.

Off on my temple walk I went. I think I saw maybe 8 or 10 temples that first day. So many, they, of course, all blend together, unless I sit down with my photos. There was tiny Wat Lam Chang, the site of an ancient elephant watering hole, which was right behind my guest house. I casually strolled through this temple before realizing that there was a funeral going, on and the whole community was sitting down with the monks for the funeral lunch. They didn’t pay me much mind. And since I had adopted full tourist mode, I embraced the ridiculousness of wandering through someone’s funeral while on tour. The next temple was Wat Chiang Man, up the road a bit from the funeral temple. This one was far bigger. In fact, it claimed to be the oldest and biggest temple in Chiang Mai. Little did I know that nearly every temple I would go to would make the same contention. Chiang Man was pretty gorgeous—the first example of Lanna Thai architecture I had seen in person. The dragons, the gold, the vastly different temple style from what I had seen in Korea. Atop each of the temple spires along the spine of the roof, were small copper wind chimes. As the breeze blew, all you could hear throughout the grounds was the small sound of the metal bells. The sky was cloudy for most of the time I was in Chiang Mai—Cyclone Nargis has thrown some bad weather towards Thailand—so the temple walk day was sultry and breezy with such bold, blue skies set against these incredible low white and gray clouds. After Chiang Man came about four more temples whose names are escaping me now, but which were all beautiful and quirky in their own right. The ancient with the remodeled nearly everywhere.

I got some lunch at this corner place that apparently has some of the best food in the city—and the cheapest. I ate kao soy for the first time here. Super popular northern Thai dish. Like a spicy curry soup with noodles and chicken and crispy noodles on top. It’s served with limes, chiles and ginger. I fell in love instantly. Great street food. Flavors I hadn’t tasted in ages—coconut milk, curry, anise, cilantro. Definitely not in Korea anymore.

In my guide book—the infamous Lonely Planet—I read about something that I just couldn’t pass up after this long walk of temples—a spe run by former inmates at the Chiang Mai Women’s Correctional Facility. I mean, how could I pass something like this up? Seriously. I found the prison at the end of a road near the Three Kings Statue. Decorated with festive murals, the prison wasn’t nearly as foreboding as our own correctional facilities. It looked almost pleasant, like, “Hey! Here’s our prison! With flowers everywhere! Isn’t it nice? Don’t miss the shop across the street! And definitely don’t leave without a foot massage!” Hmm. The shop sold the requisite handmade doilies and toilet paper covers and aprons. A correctional officer pointed me in the direction of the spa which was back out on the main road. To the left of the shop appeared to be a visitors center. I was told that the women in this prison are short-timers. The prison’s goal is to ensure that each prisoner is trained in some kind of sustainable trade before she is released. So, massage therapy is one of the main trades the women learn. I think sewing is another.

I made it over to the spa and realized it was the same one I had been eyeing as I walked to the prison. Really beautiful and simple inside. SUPER cheap. For my first massage in Thailand, I got a 1 hour foot, leg, head, neck and shoulder massage for 150 baht (or $5). Totally decadent. The massage therapist was so sweet. She was a young woman, very beautiful, not petite in the way that so many Thai women are, a square face, a broad smile. It was perfect. And it started me on my obsession with Thai spas during my trip. I ended up spending most of my time (and money!) in spas wherever I went, though it wasn’t until Ko Samui that I really splurged.

That afternoon, I hopped into a rickshaw taxi to go check out the yoga class I had wanted to find. The studio was lovely, set back in a Thai garden. A great group of people. Super fun, playful class with this English teacher—amazing to sit in a class and hear my own language! Out for the evening, looking for food. I ended up settling for the guest house place that had a typical Thai menu—nearly 50 pages of the most random collection of Thai, American and European food. Seriously, this was the norm no matter where I went. Huge menus. I am perplexed as to how one place can possibly have so many ingredients let alone cooks who know how to make all 600 items on the menu. This place I ate was weird. Daret’s House. Recommended by lonely planet, of course. I had a perfectly decent meal, and as I was paying my bill, I looked up to read the guest house rules sign on the wall above me. Lots of typical rules—lock your valuables in the safe, we’re not responsible for stolen items, check out time is noon, etc. But then there were the special rules: “No sex work activity in the rooms (that means no prostitutes),” and “Don’t bring ladyboys back to the room (no homosexuals allowed).” “These rules are for your own safety,” it said. Truly bizarre.

I took a long walk to the bar that Jen and Michael raved about—Santiya’s Grotto. I was told to expect a hilarious Thai woman who belonged at Burning Man and a bar completely covered in paper mache. I got the paper-covered walls, but not the Thai lady. The bar was totally empty save for the young guy running the bar and playing solitaire on the computer. Already in a lonely state of mind, the patron-less bar did me little good. I sat with my Lonely Planet—lonely indeed!—and planned my next day. I knew this crappy lonely feeling was good for me—that I would get over it soon—but man, was it crappy. The place was really fantastic, though. Very Gaudi-esque. Gorgeous portraits sat on easels against the walls, books and random things lined the shelves. There was a small stage with a drum set painted red with spray paint. Windows and mirrors framed by paper mache. A lion mask stared at me from one side of the room, a rams head from the other. Wilting orchids sat on my table. Honeycombs were stuck into the walls. A total cave—exactly as the name suggests. I drank a couple of beers, took in the scene, shot some pictures and after about an hour, was still the only one in the room. So, it was time to go home.

After my first two days in Chiang Mai, I found that the daytime was awesome—so much to do and see and occupy my brain. Night was much harder. Going out to eat and finding places to hang out on my own just led to a load of loneliness. Like I said, it came in waves. And I don't regret a second of it. The adventures just kept coming... Look out for Part 2 soon!