I'll Know It When I Get There

With every passing of the old and bringing in of the new, my mind naturally drifts to rebirth. This year I get stuck. I have been traveling the US since I got back, searching for something that seems be getting further and further away.

I spent Christmas in New Orleans surrounded by strangers in a hostel. There was the crazy gay Scotsman that will be a lifelong friend, the two amazing Aussie girls, the hippie, wandering, motorcycle riding Swede, the adorable engineer from New Hampshire and an assortment of other characters that made up the fabric of my holiday. It was the best Christmas I have ever had. I felt at home for the first time in a long time and in the back of my thoughts, I think that there must be something wrong with me.

When asked where I live, I don't have an answer except that I am homeless but not indigent. I just can't seem to get excited about living someplace, living anywhere really. I am afraid of the settling down factor and I realize that it's not normal. I know that I am extremely blessed, being able to work from anywhere, all I need is an internet connection. A part of me wants my own bed to come home to, and a louder part of me wants to keep exploring. I am so very afraid of the very security that I yearn for at times and so I fight it with all I have. But then it changes once again and I picture a place with books and plants, a bed, a couch for friends to crash on, maybe I could even have a real grown-up relationship with a guy.

My only solution is to pick up my car tomorrow and hit the road. I plan to take back roads, completely skipping interstates and see where they take me. I'm hoping to chance upon a tiny town somewhere that screams at me to stay. If that fails, I will end up in Maine, as far North as I can go. A lobster town on the coast appeals to me a bit. Not the scream from the mountains excitement I am used to feeling, but still, it's something. In the meantime I am going to explore the fabric that makes up the US; tiny coastal towns, farming communities with one diner and a feed-store, the back-roads and bar lights, and the interesting stories that people will tell.

2010 was the best year I have ever had. Despite my still injured leg and all the trials I went through, I wouldn't change a single moment. I said last year, on the new day of the new year that I didn't want to not know where I would be exactly a year later and I am right there. I think my resolution will stay the same for this year, having that one option at the end of the year, to not really know where I am going is a good resolution to have and keep for me.

Thank you for reading my blog over the past year. I wish you all the happiest, most prosperous year possible. Keep dreaming, exploring, hoping, and knowing that you are all amazing.

Peace, love, and joy!

Lara

Not Fitting In

I crossed the street yesterday and forgot to look both ways. No, nothing happened. I didn't get even close to being in danger. I just simply forgot that rule.

Since I have been back in the US, I have been in a daze. I almost feel as though I boarded my plane bound for America and with each mile that passed, my mind became more and more clouded. I left a world that was so vibrate and so alive and came back to one that I'm not quite used to yet. Yesterday, I crossed that street and went into a Target to buy shampoo. I stood in front of the choices for several minutes and finally picked one. It all seemed so silly to me. It seems to me that too many choices only makes for a society that is hell bent on having even more choices. America is truly a land of consumers, always NEEDING the newest and the best thing and it just feels so empty to me. I in my own way, used to be a part of that.

Do you want to know the truly sad part? As I crossed that busy street, I felt a certain amount of shame. To not have a car and not be driving myself to the store made me feel ashamed. I spent months walking everywhere I could and can't remember once feeling like I wanted to drive. I would tell the myriads of cab and motorbike drivers in whatever city I was in that no, I didn't need a ride, I have 2 feet that suit me just fine. Perhaps it is me that is at fault here and memories of a past life lived are creeping in, or perhaps it's not just me that feels like I don't fit in if I don't have "stuff". I'm not really sure.

I'm also having a hard time getting used to the endless complaining about everything under the sun. Really? So the TSA wants to scan you? Well for Christs sake you MUST spend your precious time rallying against them. Now, don't get me wrong, I will always rally for equal rights for all in the USA and I will always join the fight for freedom of speech. But some of the things people get so worked up about here at home just seem so damn silly to me. I used to be one of you. It took actually leaving to get a broader picture of what is really important in life.

I really don't know where I am going to fit in here. I think I have a pretty good picture of how I want things to go, but its the getting there that is going to be the tough part. I am a firm believer in reinventing myself every moment, everyday, and every year, and I do know what I don't want. It's the getting there that is always the tough part. But maybe with each tiny shift in thinking, a sense of purpose will be regained.

Before I get any comments like "If you hate it here, why don't you leave?" I would like to point out how tiresome comments like that have become. If you yourself have absolutely no complaints about the USA, our government, and the way we are so absolutely consumed with things here, then perhaps you need to leave. Change has
never come to a person, a neighborhood, a city, or an entire country, with
complacency and complete happiness with the status quo.


Peace, love, and joy

Lara

Lost

As of late, I haven't been doing anything except bouncing here and there, tracing a route across the US and trying to figure out a new place in the world for myself.

I miss so much about Asia. I miss the masses of chaotic beings working together, I miss the curious stares children gave me in isolated regions, people touching my hair and my skin on bus rides, and the way the days melded one into the other. I miss Indonesia especially. A place that inspires with the people, the land and the seascapes. The spirituality seems to hang in the air there, just waiting to be soaked up. I came home, never thinking for a moment that I would feel more lost in my country of origin then I ever was while traveling to foreign places.

I came home quieter somehow, perfectly content with doing nothing except healing my body. I have been spent the past month surrounded by my loves and family and yet I have felt a bit like a stranger. It just all seems so sterile, so isolated, so futile and I don't yet know how to deal with my those new feelings.

I have decided to find a quiet corner of this vast country of ours and settle in for a bit. I plan to surround myself with books and plants and work tasks and somehow figure out what dreams I want to dream now. See, traveling the world was my dream for as long as I can remember and now that I have done it, I don't know what my new dreams are. Without dreaming I am lost.

Peace, love, and joy


Lara

The Long Road Home

I'm back in the US and of course had some trouble getting home. It seems as if the universe was intent on kicking my ass the entire time I was gone, but man, what an adventure I had.

I booked my flights, routing me through Perth and then Sydney while still in Bali. I made sure I had to appropriate electronic Visa to get into Australia and though I was dreading the almost 30 hours of flight time to get home, I was thrilled. My leg was giving me constant problems and I could barely walk to the store to buy water. Not exactly a fun place to be in while alone in a foreign country. I woke up early for my flight to Perth and made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I went to check in with Air Asia, and the ticket counter guy scanned my passport. He paused and looked at me with a curious look on his face. "I'm sorry, you aren't allowed to board the plane." He tilted his screen towards me and there it was, a giant Do Not Allow To Board screen. I told him their must be some mistake, I was certainly allowed to fly to Australia. He told me that I would be sent back to Indonesia if he allowed me to board and since my Indo Visa expired the next day, I wouldn't be allowed back in. I began to panic. I was in horrible pain, dragging my backpack, in the Denpasar, Bali airport and basically at a loss as to what to do. He gave me a website and told me to contact the Australian embassy through it. I wandered around the airport for a bit, trying to find an internet signal and finally decided that there had be an Australia Consulate in Bali. There just HAD to be one and I would go there and get it sorted out. The fourth cab driver I asked knew where it was and off I went, an hour ride away to try and get proof that I could actually leave Bali.

I sat outside the Australian Consulate for 3 hours, my passport inside the building, and finally the agent came out with a piece of paper that said I was allowed to enter Australia. It seems that their was a glich in the airlines system that automatically rejected my passport. I grabbed a cab back to the airport and showed the Air Asia people all the forms, trying to get them to put me on another flight. After all, it was their fault that I missed my flight. They, in true asshole corporate form, refused to refund my ticket or reroute me in any way. I whipped out my credit card and paid $400 for a flight to Sydney, deciding to bypass Perth all together. So, it cost me a total of $800 to get from Bali to Australia. Fun times.

I finally made it to San Fransisco some 48 hours later and boarded a flight to Las Vegas. I spent the next 4 days, comfortable on my friend Beau's couch, seeing various friends, the ones that really matter to me. It was strange being back. It struck me how incredibly easy life is in the US and I plan to post another blog about that soon. After Vegas, I went to Atlanta to see friends from my former life there, spending my time once again on the couch with my stupid leg up.


Peace, love and joy,


Lara

Following My Heart All The Way Home

One of the hardest decisions I have had to make as of late, was my decision to come home to the States.

I have spent the past couple of weeks in more pain than I have ever been in my life. I can't walk more than 10 feet without almost falling. I feel incredibly isolated and lonely most of the time, stuck in non-descript rooms in guest houses around Bali with almost no options. I can't even walk to get a water without enduring incredible pain. Here I am, in one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to and I can't see any of it. I started to question if I can really do this for the next couple of years and I still haven't come up with an answer.

I have always been one to completely follow what my heart tells me to do and so I made the heart decision to come back to the States for a spell. A part of me feels like such a failure, because the absolute truth is that my leg will heal, it can heal here, but I do want to come home. I had all of these grandiose plans to see as much of the world as possible, but I'm not sure I can make the cut. Someone very dear to me asked me what I had learned on this journey and the list is so very long. I guess in the end, I have to hold on to that and remember that this is all part of it, of that growth and a direct result of it.

I am scared to come home. I am scared I will lose the lessons I have learned about myself and others. I will do my best to hold on to those things that have made me grow in leaps and bounds. I feel as though I will have some culture shock, after living amongst such simple, wonderful people all over the world. The love and compassion shown to me has taught me so many things. That it's OK to accept help and OK to be weak at times. It's OK to be vulnerable and I don't have to be tough all of the time. Any sort of ego I had, was knocked out of me with a hammer like blow so many times in so many different places.

I still don't want the typical American life. I am still going to be traveling around, seeing friends, working a bit (man, how I have missed work) and being the best friend possible to those that know how to be a friend to me.

My plans are to fly to San Fransisco later this week from Sydney, then go to Vegas for a couple of days to see a few people and then off to Atlanta to see some friends from my past life there. After that, I will be going to St. Thomas for Thanksgiving and from there? Who knows. I sure don't. But, still this is my journey, just tweaked a bit and of course, I like not knowing.

I am going to remain open to any and all possibilities. I think I will end up in some pretty spectacular places with people that know and love me. And that my friends, is where I need to be right now.

Peace, love, and joy

Lara

Bali Part 2- A Knock Out Blow

Sometimes life throws you tiny little punches barely glancing off you and sometimes it throws you a wave so big that it knocks you on your ass for weeks.

After arriving in Kuta, Bali and finding a terrific place to stay, I went off in search of some local surfers. In part to show me the best breaks, to show me some new skills, and to hopefully surf with for a bit. I always find the locals when I go surfing and that strategy has served me well. Being a female and not nearly as good as any of them, they have often tended to take me under their wing and show me around. I wandered not far from my guest house and found a surf shop. The guys were busy repairing boards in their tiny little shop. I walked up and introduced myself and before I knew it, they had me sit down and we all engage in some lively conversation. Roland, the one that knew the most English, and I hit it off immediately. The next day we went out to Halfway Beach in Kuta, boards in hand and hit it hard. It was an amazing session. That is what surfing is all about. I hit my sweet spot and became one with the wave and my board. I was in heaven. For the next couple of days I surfed some amazing waves with the boys and drank beers with them in the afternoon.

On the last day that I went out, we paddled out to the break. I spotted a monster and knew that it was too big for my skill set, but I have never been one to not take on something too big and so I went for it. The second I stood up my leg twisted. It felt like I had been shot in the calf. Roland helped me out and up and I limped on back home, not grasping what I had really done to myself by taking on that monster. The next day, I woke up in a massive amount of pain and even though I couldn't walk, decided I would go out again. I stubbornly insisted that surfing isn't like walking and I would be just fine. I limped to the shop and Roland gave me a scooter ride to the breaks, board strapped to the side of the scooter. It was to be a costly mistake as I had a horrible session and I hurt myself even more.

It turns out that I have a stage 2 torn calf muscle, made worse by the fact that my stubbornness got in the way and I went out a second time and tried to surf on it. I was absolutely miserable and in the worst pain I have ever been in. After seeing a local doctor, which is a treat in itself; mostly because of language barriers, I decided to stay off it as much as possible. I couldn't find crutches anywhere and I was pretty much stuck at my guest house, which thank goodness had a pool. For someone as active as I am, it was a serious blow. I woke up every morning for the next week and insisted it was better and try to walk on it. After a few days I went back to the doctor because of excruciating pain and discovered that because of my inability to actually listen and stay off my feet, I had torn a ligament in my knee.

It's hard to convey how wonderful the guys from the surf shop were to me. They gave me scoot rides to the doctor, they helped me walk and brought me dinner. Their are 5 of them that live and work at the surf shop. They sleep on mats in the back room and work from 9 am until 11 pm on most days. They are some of the happiest people I have ever met. "We get to watch the sunset everyday, we get to surf, and we get to play our guitars at night with our friends. We dont need much more than that Ms. Lara." It is so very humbling. All over Southeast Asia I have met people like that. And they are happy, more so than I could ever imagine being in the same circumstances.

I left Kuta, Bali yesterday for the interior. Ubud is this amazing little town, filled with artists and writers. It is absolutely beautiful. I had a horrific van ride up here, jammed in the front seat, my leg swelling to monstrous size, but even though I cried the whole way from the pain and didn't stop until I met a fellow traveler for dinner, I am happy I came. I'm going to extend my Visa for another 30 days and get better up here. I entertained brief thoughts of coming home, crying my eyes out. But if I'm going to convalesce I figure I might as well do it in Bali. Today, I am going to see an acupuncturist and a herbal healer. I figure that I might as well give Eastern medicine a try since I'm here.

The local people I have met have been taking care of me and fellow travelers have carried my bags for me and helped me walk. People are so incredibly nice everywhere I go, and there I go again, tears in my eyes thinking about it. For someone resistant to accepting help from anyone, I have learned that sometimes you need it, sometime you can't do everything yourself. I only hope that I can return the favor of universal compassion everyday of my life and never forget the kindness shown to me around the world.

Peace, love and joy!

Lara

Vietnam to Bali Part 1

I absolutely had to get out of South East Asia. After spending months traveling at a break neck speed through various countries, it was time to leave. I flew back to Saigon via Tiger Air from Pho Quot Island and spent a couple of days wandering around with different sets of people. I randomly ran into an American couple I had met way back in Thailand and we spent a day exploring Saigon, particularly the war museum. The museum itself is a different blog for a different time, but suffice it to say I was deeply moved by it. It was horrendously done, with massive propaganda against the US, but some of the photos and facts presented made me cry.

I walked into a travel agency and randomly pointed to Bali on the map. "Ok, that's where I am going now" I thought. Less than 24 hours later I was in the air on my way to Jakarta for an overnight 6 hour layover. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I was setting up my flights, but man did I pay for it. The day I left Saigon I was up at my normal time, around 7 am. I met my American friends and then took a taxi to the airport for my 8 pm flight to Jakarta. We were slightly delayed in leaving, so we didn't actually land in Jakarta until almost 1 am. My flight to Bali was at 6:20 am the next morning. In my naivety I assumed I would be able to grab a few hours of sleep in the airport, by now I am quite used to sleeping whenever and wherever I can.
No such luck.

I lined up for immigration and encountered some of the nicest people I have met at immigration posts thus far. Simply put, they love Americans. I was bombarded with facts about Obama and learned that he lived there as a school child. One of the initial immigration guys got a look at my first name on my passport and so the "Lara Tomb Raider" nickname was given to me and followed me for much of the night. It was 1:30 am before I got through immigration and grabbed my bag. Ok, now for a nice bench to park my ass on and sleep. No such luck. Every seat was taken and I ended up hanging out with a couple of Irish hippie boys and their guitars outside the building, taking requests from the local boys hanging around us. Which mainly turned out to be ColdPlay. The guys soon left to grab a flight and I wandered aimlessly, ending up close to immigration once again. A couple of the officials, with nothing else to do, pulled out a chair and had me sit with them. They drank coffee and smoked right in the middle of immigration in the middle of the airport and chatted with me about all things American and Indonesian. After a while, a deck of cards was produced and we began to play. I'm not sure how many people get to say that they played cards in the dead of the night in the Jakarta International terminal with Immigration official, but I can. That's what I love about this whole journey, I never know what will happen.

I finally boarded my flight at 6 am after being awake for nearly 24 hours. I tried to sleep on the plane with no luck. The flight was 4 hours and I was a zombie disembarking in Bali. I grabbed a cab to head to Legian and a group of guest-houses. They were all absolutely horrid, so I ended up wandering the streets for nearly 2 hours, with my 26 pound backpack strapped to me and finally found a terrific little place, of which I am still at. I had been awake nearly 40 hours before I finally crashed. Never again will I do that.

Part 2 coming soon!

Peace, love, and joy!

Lara

The Ties that Bind

She was old. Older than I care to guess. The sun had wrinkled her skin, the laugh lines were firmly etched around her mouth and she liked me.

I really can't say why an old Vietnamese woman, who has seen more heartache, joy, and love than I can ever imagine liked me so much. We weren't able to communicate through typical means, she didn't know a single word of English. And yet, we were able to communicate. I spent an evening in her restaurant barely containing my tears and she was there, with a hand upon my shoulder and a look of pure compassion. It was human kindness at its best. When it was time to leave and journey to another place, she hugged me fiercely, tears in her eyes, planting a kiss on my cheek. She somehow knew I was all alone on a remote island in Vietnam and with an instinct bred into women across the world, to nurture and care, she acted.

I have always scoffed at the notion that women are bound universally by the ability to nurture and show compassion. I was raised with a barely there mother figure and have always been able to relate to men better then women. I tended to have my guard up with women coming into my life, more so than men. But, I have gradually come to realize that there is a bond transcending race, age, and location that links all women on this earth. There was the old woman in Portugal that took the time to guide me and gave me a gift, no words were spoke, it was impossible to communicate, but for the knowledge she had that I needed her right at that moment. There was the young woman in Thailand, baby in hand, struggling with packages, that handed me her child so she could manage a crowded walk way. She knew no harm would come, she knew through a single look that I would help her. There was a tiny Indian woman on a flight, sitting across the aisle from me. We experienced turbulence and she grabbed my hand, as much for her comfort as for my own.

I wish I could go back to my former life and see with open eyes the amount of kindness brought upon me by women strangers in the US. Perhaps it is easier to recognize it when I am out here, away from all the women I know and love. Perhaps, with single glance or gesture from me, it will continue. My heart bursts with the knowledge that we women, go through the same heartache, passion, and trials all over the world and we are bound together. I will continue on, eyes opened further and continue to bond with women all over the world through a look, a smile, and love.



Peace, love, and joy!

Lara

Tales of Transport

I am currently on an island off the coast of Vietnam and couldn't be more content. I left Muine beach 4 days ago, intent on spending some time in the Mekong Delta, really experiencing the life on the river so many people here depend upon. Unfortunately, my plans didn't work out quite like I thought they would.

I left Muine for Saigon on an early morning bus. Arriving at around 1:30 pm, I immediately went to a travel agency to book a bus ticket to one of the many villages along the Mekong. I randomly picked out a town on the map and told the lady I wanted to go there. I should have realized something was amiss when she gave me a strange look, booked it, and then gave me the phone number for her cousin that lived there in case I needed anything. After jumping in a mini-van, I was whisked away to a makeshift bus station in Saigon and put on another mini-van. The vans are supposed to sit 12 people, but somehow we managed to fit 15 people in it. I was stuck in the very back with my legs shoved against my chest and after popping some Dramamine, settled in for the ride. It only took me a second to realize that I was the only Westerner in the van. The driver didn't speak any English, in fact, only one person spoke a few words. I didn't know if I was on the right bus, I didn't know where I would end up, and I was stared out for hours. Surprisingly enough, this didn't bother me one bit. One lady kept staring at my skin and then my hair back and forth for hours. Finally I figured out that it was because my skin is the same color as theirs, but my hair is curly and blond from the sun. I also had a good 6 inches on everyone aboard. I pointed to my skin and then her skin and said "Same, Same." She nodded and laughed, apparently understanding a little.

After several hours, we stopped at a makeshift outdoor cafeteria where all the mini-vans and buses stop for food. There were literally hundreds of people there and I was again, the only white person. I posed for numerous pictures and bought enough treats for the entire group in our van and then we got on our way. With the sounds of Passion Pit playing on my Zune, we finally stopped in what I assume to be the town I had pointed out on the map. It was a dirt lot in the middle of a dirty city, motorbikes streaming by and again, not a single white person to be found. The driver threw my bag out and took off before I had a chance to ask him where I was (not that he would have understood). I strapped my life on my back, and stood there, not knowing where I was or where I should go. I was then approached by a friendly guy with a motorbike that, in barely understandable English, said he could take me to the center of town. I walked through poring rain to a hotel and booked a room for the night and then went in search of food. I was the only white person in town I assume, as people stopped and stared everywhere I went and little children said "Hello!" and pointed at me laughing. Again, I didn't mind it one bit. It was actually quite cute. I didn't actually find any food that night, the only thing available was sidewalk vendor food and of course, all writen in Vietnamese. My hotel room had a bag of chips in the room, so I ate those along with an iced tea.

The next morning, I woke up bright and early and checked out of my hotel room. The same guy that had taken me to the hotel was waiting outside for me and I had him take me to camera store so I could buy my 3rd camera of this voyage. After that, he dropped me back at the same dirt lot so I could get on yet another bus that would take me to the coast and further out, to the island I am on right now. Wash, rinse, repeat the exact same sequence of events as the day before. My destination was Rach Gia, Vietnam a port city with regular ferries to the island. Again, no one spoke English and I'm pretty sure I got massively ripped off with my "ticket" for the mini-van, which didn't actually include a ticket, just me handing some guy over a hundred thousand Dong and hoping that I wouldn't be dropped in the middle of nowhere.

I finally made it to Rach Gia, and checking into yet another hotel. However, this one was extra special because it actually had a bathtub in my room instead of the usual shower over the toilet I have been using for months. I bought my ticket for the ferry the next morning and soaked for hours, feeling like a princess. The next morning, I walked to the ferry and saw the first white people I had seen in days. I was so excited I could barely contain myself. To have a real conversation with someone had become a luxury it would seem. I quickly made friends with a couple of Londoners and settled in for what I hoped would be a smooth ferry ride. Luckily I took some more Dramamine because the ride was anything but smooth. We were rolling back and forth with the sea for hours and the trip took an hour longer than usual because of the rough seas. I get motion sickness quite easily, but luckily I have plenty of drugs to counteract it.

We finally arrived at Pho Quo island and I checked into an unbelievable villa right on the ocean. The waves crash right outside my door and there are several beach front bars to eat at. All that for the price of 200,000 dong or $10.27 a night. I plan to spend at least a week here, maybe longer and really explore. I would like to go to the local school to do some English tutoring, so I'm going to try and arrange that later today.

The coast of Cambodia can be seen from the island and I will be going there next. In the meantime, I am going to live it up Vietnamese island style perfectly content in a little slice of heaven.




Peace, love, and joy!

Lara

Leaving Thailand, Falling into Laos, Escaping to Vietnam

I need to begin this blog clear back in Thailand a couple of weeks ago, so prepare yourself, I have a lot of ground to cover. I ended up in the far north, near Myanmar and met up with Nick and Svetta, 2 Americans I had met in Chiang Mia. As a group we decided to spend one day in Myanmar and then take a 2 day slow boat to Laos. Myanmar ended up being a giant waste of time, but my passport stamp looks interesting at least. I think the only thing of note about Myanmar that I saw were the US DOJ posters everywhere offering awards for terrorist. Pretty interesting to see the long arm of the US law reach all the way over to SE Asia. The next day, Nick, Svetta, Andy and Sandra (two crazy Scotts) and Francine (a 67 year old American traveling without her husband) and I set off for Laos. After getting throughly ripped off by the tour operator at the border, we walked through pounding rain to the dock and boarded a slow boat that would take us 5 hours up the Mekong River to a tiny village where we would stay the night and then finish the trip the next day after another 9 hours on board. The boat was fairly comfortable and we settled in cushy seats in the front and listened to Andy the Scottsman yell "Beer Lao, Beer Lao!" every 20 minutes. It was a really fun, relaxing day.

The next day, we woke bright and early and decided to get on board the boat early to get good seats. Unfortunately, they had pulled a bait and switch on us and the boat we got in was half the size of the one from the day before. Even worse, the seats were either hard backed wooden benches or tiny folding wooden chairs. Not the most comfortable way to spend 9 hours. Fortunately, I picked a seat almost opposite to a really hot guy, at the very least knowing that looking at him would give me something to pass the hours with. We actually ended up talking a bit and I was intrigued by him. I already knew that I had never met anyone quite like him. I even whispered to Francine "Holy shit, he teaches philosophy and is in a band and he's hot!". Frannie gave me the thumbs up signal, the one that women all over the world can recognize and that was all I needed. Alex and I talked and looked and looked away and talked some more all the way to Luang Prabang, Laos. I was excited to put it mildly. We got off the boat and waited for our bags to be unloaded and he simply disappeared on me. "Oh well", I thought, "Maybe Ill see him here in town somewhere." Frannie and I decided to room together that night and went to dinner with the whole group including the Scots, and Kevin, another American we seemed to have picked up along the way. It was a super chill evening, only punctuated by Frannie and I fervently looking for Alex in every restaurant we walked by.

The next day, Frannie and woke up and hooked up with Nick and Svetta for some breakfast and conversation. We were walking back to our guest house when Frannie grabbed my arm and said, "There he is!" I ran across the street yelling Alexs' name and found out he was leaving right at that moment to go to another town with his friends. Dejectedly I got his email address, sure I would never see him again. Later that afternoon, Frannie and I decided to book a kayaking trip to some caves on the Mekong River, I was really craving some exercise and outdoor time and couldn't wait to get on the river. We booked our trip, walked down the street, and imagine my surprise when I saw Alex sitting down to eat at a restaurant. Of course, I invited him to come kayaking with us and he agreed, booked it and invited me to eat some lunch with him. 3 hours later we finally moved from the table and walked to a book store, got caught in monsoon rain showers, watched a movie, and got caught in a full on pitch black power outage while walking to dinner. I loved every second or every minute spent with him. I later found out that he decided to stay in Luang Prabang because I was there.

The next day, Frannie, Alex and I went kayaking. Alex was my partner and I have to admit, not the most experienced I have seen. We almost got swept downstream to the sounds of Frannie and the guides laughing at us from shore. We actually had to cross the Mekong River at 2 points and it was so very hard. The river is huge, fast moving, and down right daunting at certain places. We both breathed a sigh of relief when we did the second crossing safely. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to enjoy it as I inadvertently stepped up to my knees in mud and then fell forward like a broke down toy. Of course, Alex and the natives found it hilarious.

The next several days were punctuated by nothing exciting except spending every moment with Alex and that was all the excitement I needed. Frannie left after 3 days with promises to put me up on her house boat in Puerto Rico if I ever make it down there. Slowly, everyone left from our group, except Alex, the Scotts, Kevin, and me. Then suddenly it seems, the day came when it was time for all of us to leave. The Scotts had to catch a flight to Vietnam, Alex had to catch a flight back to London, Kevin had to leave for southern Laos, and me? I randomly decided to go to Vang Vieng, the party capital of Laos. Somewhere in the days preceding that, Alex and I decided to give a real relationship a shot. We both really want this to work. I am a really outgoing person, but I don't really open up to people. I have a massive wall around certain things and I have been adding bricks to that wall through the years. Alex was able to chisel away at it with just his smile. This is such a strange feeling because I haven't been in a committed relationship for years and certainly wasn't expecting to find someone I actually want one with in Laos of all places. Luang Prabang was the perfect setting for it all. The town is my own personal Shangri La. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site, so protected from development. The French originally settled there and because of that the architecture is gorgeous. The Laos people we met have to be my favorite. They are some of the nicest, most modest and unassuming people I have ever met.

The next few days were so incredibly hard for me. I found myself wandering the streets of Vang Vieng in a daze. I didn't speak to a single person for 2 days. I don't think I have ever been that lonely in my life. I wasn't just missing Alex, I was missing everyone I had spent the past 2 weeks with. We all really fit well together and I can't imagine finding that again on this journey of mine. I ended up getting on a bus for Vientiane, Laos and met up with Kevin there. He listened to me cry and was a friendly face when I really needed one. I spent 2 days there and randomly bought a plane ticket for Ho Chi Min City, (Saigon) Vietnam. I landed there yesterday and promptly bought a bus ticket taking me to a beach town. It's gorgeous here, the people are relaxed and incredibly friendly, and I actually was able to pick a good guest house for once.

I am still lonely. I still haven't really talked to very many people. I didn't know what I was missing until I had it with Alex and now I don't know how I can be where he isn't. I have been traveling for months, lonely for a few minutes out of a few days, but otherwise perfectly content. Now I feel so very alone and it really sucks to be in this incredibly beautiful country and not be able to share it with anyone I care about.

Tomorrow I am going to give wind surfing a try and possibly do some paddle boarding. The waves are dead, so unfortunately there is no surfing on my horizon. I don't know where I am going from here, but I do know that each day will get a little easier and eventually I will be back to my usual happy, excited to be out here self.



Peace, love, and joy

Lara

Same Same but Different

Thinking. I didn't realize before I set out on this journey of mine, how much time I would really have to sit alone with my thoughts. While riding buses, trains, and planes my thoughts mostly bounce to home and the things I miss and well, don't miss at all.

I miss my house in Las Vegas, but more importantly, I miss having my own little sanctuary to come home to. But I also love discovering new guest houses and have gotten quite good at picking the best ones in an area. I miss having my own transportation, yet love riding buses with movies playing in whatever language for whatever country I happen to be in. Yesterday, I rode a bus to the far north of Thailand and passed the hours playing with an adorable Thai baby with a silly Thai game show playing in the background. I miss happy hour with my friends, and yet I love meeting new people at creating our own happy hour in whatever country I happen to be in. I miss iceberg wedge salads with heaps of blue cheese dressing and I love authentic Pad Thai and fried chicken from a street vendor. I miss trips to Target but love venturing to evening markets set along busy side streets. Sometimes I miss having hot showers and conversely, I love the typically cold ones I take at guest houses. Really, what I miss and what I love is a giant hodge-podge of contradictions. Each situation reminding me of something from home, same same but different as the Thais would say.

What I don't miss is how stagnant my life was in the States. Sure I was constantly busy and constantly "doing". But man, out here, it changes daily. There is always something new to learn and somewhere new to explore. I can pick up and leave at a moments notice or choose to stay. I can cross into a new country, or walk to the local market, all decided within minutes. I can stay and volunteer at places or I can decide it's not for me and find something new. I absolutely love the freedom and I love the challenge of the open road. I love going to a bus or train station, not knowing where I am going and taking the next one out.

My thoughts often drift to those the I love and have loved and all the mistakes I have made in the past. Then they drift to all the good things I have done. Man, is it ever humbling to have your identity stripped and more importantly to choose to have it stripped. All you are left with is yourself, raw and open. Sometimes laughing until you cry, sometimes crying until it hurts so much you feel like you are splitting open. I am forever changed by the things I have seen and experienced and I have yet to get into the meat of my journey. I am forever humbled by the goodness in others for no other reason than that we are all bound together by this thing we call life. I am forever changed by the small amount of bad I have experienced. I am forever sorry for the way I have treated others at times and forever blessed to have so many good people I call friends around the world and at home. I am not the same person I was when I left and yet, I am still. My life is a giant contradiction of joy, sadness, adventure, sometimes boredom, awe inspiring sights, and blank walls in countless rooms. I wouldn't have it any other way. Same same person, but different.

Peace, joy, and love

Lara

Life 5 Years After People

After spending several weeks traveling at an exhausting speed through several countries, I decided it was time to settle in and do some volunteering in Thailand. I found a project 25km from Chiang Mai, Thailand and began my work there yesterday. I didn't know what to expect, but I had a feeling that I was in for a completely different experience.

I met Chris, an American ex-pat (from South Dakota of all places) and former Buddhist monk, at a Wat that he does Buddhist teaching and immediately liked him. Chris and his Thai wife live in Chiang Mai with their 2 daughters, one of which is crawling all over me right now. His wife is an international lawyer and a lovely woman. Chris and I drove through the outskirts of Chiang Mai to what will be known as the Metta Experience. Metta is a luxury resort that never came to fruition. It has sat empty for 5 years in the jungle.

Stepping out of his car I immediately was attacked by mosquitoes, crazy huge ones that seemed to really like me. We walked through the buildings on the property and it's hard to describe what I saw. It is truly an episode of "Life After People-5 Years" up there. The rooms, which were supposed to be guest rooms and will be again had been taken over by various forms of life. Mold on the vaulted ceilings, spiders everywhere, dead mice and geckos on the floor, and snails. The main area for eating and lounging has amazingly beautiful furniture in it, with bamboo roofs that are partly caved in. The vines have overtaken the sides of the buildings, climbing up them as they do. The structures are intact for the most part and shouldn't take much to fix up, but it was the cleaning that still makes me feel as though my skin is crawling with bugs.

I started on what will be my room for the duration of my stay, armed with a can of extra strong bug spray and a bamboo broom. I received a cobweb shower for my efforts, sweeping the ceiling and moving onto the floors. Spraying along the edge of the room, I traced a trail of chemicals that killed everything within minutes. The bed and mattress seemed almost pristine, never having been slept in and with the original sheets from 5 years ago. I stripped the bed and pulled the mattress back from the wall and found a termite colony. There were literally thousands of termites in the bed. I'm not a squeamish person, but that was a little too much for me and yet, I carried on. Die termites die! The bathrooms in my room and all of the rooms are massive and completely western. The rooms all have private balconies and the detail and work put into the place is amazing. It's a shame that it didn't originally open when it was built, but I think that happens a lot here.

I moved through the 7 main rooms, cleaning as I went and waiting for the water to be fixed. Unfortunately, Chris wasn't able to fix the water or the power in the main units, but the community room has power. Chris and his wife were gracious enough to let me stay at their house in Chiang Mai last night and I got to eat the first home cooked meal I have had in months.

Today, I am going back to Metta with Chris and another volunteer. I will be spending the night up there and several subsequent days and nights helping them restore the property. I can live without electricity in my room for a bit and I can pee in the woods. I really like what they are trying to do with the center, make it into a Eco-community were people can come and stay and learn about Buddhism, meditation, and Eco-farming without having to pay a ton of money. I am the very first volunteer that they have had and I feel a certain amount of ownership in the project already. It's a really good feeling to feel like I am helping to create something. Doing something just do it, not for monetary gain feels really good. The experience is worth the discomfort. Being on the typical tourist trail can feel a bit empty and hedonistic at times and that feeling has all but disappeared being at Metta. It will be great to visit in the future and see what has become of it. I know that I will always have a home there, already finding a little part of Thailand that I can make my own. Check out the website for Metta: http://www.mettaexperiment.org/.

Peace, love, and joy from the jungle in Thailand.

Lara

Forever Dreaming

"Where you from?" asked my Tuk-Tuk driver as he was whizzing me through the streets of Chiang Mai, Thailand. "America, Las Vegas". "Oh, Oh! My dream, Las Vegas, my dream!" He exclaimed in an excited voice. For the rest of the drive he bombarded me with question about life in the Vegas. I told him that someday he might be able to make it there. He looked at me with an incredulous look and said "Impossible, impossible". It's moments like those that are heart wrenching and surprisingly emotional for me. I have told myself over and over again that I do know how lucky we all are, living in western countries and fortunate by our birth right to do anything we want and go anywhere we want if only we work hard enough for it. But, saying and seeing it are two entirely different things and his words and emotion will stay with me for a very long time. My Tuk-tuk driver will never make it to Las Vegas, it is truly impossible for him. It is so very very sad to me that people here and in other poor countries have dreams and cannot possibly ever fulfill them. And yet, he is still happy. Happy to be where he is and as he told me with a mischievous grin, happy to travel to Laos where Thais apparently can live like kings.

After a nightmare red-eye flight from Berlin, I landed in Bangkok and immediately fell in love with Thailand and the Thai people. Smiles abound, even when you know they are secretly disappointed that you aren't buying their knock-off Chanel purses or cheap necklaces. I stayed for 3 nights in Khao San, the backpacker ghetto of Bangkok. Khao San has to be seen to be believed. Streets filled with vendors, sidewalk stalls selling food and hippies everywhere. White people abound complete with dreadlocks and bare feet walking down the streets. I was able to go to a couple of temples and see the giant Buddha and palace and then it was time to leave the city for a quieter place. The more I travel, the more I try to stay away from the large cities. I don't want to do the usual tourist trap activities, but rather, experience life the way the locals do. I met 3 guys in Bangkok and decided to take the night train to Chiang Mia with them, the adventure capital of Thailand. The train was an adventure in itself. 15 hours in a non-AC car that swayed like a never ending earthquake. The noise from the tracks was so loud it was impossible to sleep. I huddle in my upper bunk and surprisingly enough, did not curse every moment. I think I am actually getting used to the discomfort of this journey. Learning to just go with the flow and knowing that everything does in fact come to an end.

Tomorrow I am going on a jungle trek that includes a bit of white water rafting and elephant riding. After that I am going 25km out of the city to volunteer at a yoga and meditation center for a couple of weeks. I am excited to be leaving the backpacker trail for a bit, even though I was dying to get back on it just a week ago. My plans are loose from there. I am determined to travel to Burma, if anything for the stamp in my passport. After that, I will be in Laos, Vietnam and then down to Cambodia to settle in for a bit volunteering at the Ocean Conservation Center.

My Tuk-tuk driver, is no doubt at this moment, is trying to solicit tourist. All the while, with a smile on his face and visions of bright lights and casinos swimming in his mind. His dreams will have to stay where they are, forever in his mind and his heart. I am so very lucky.

Peace, love, and joy from Thailand

Lara

Going Back To Where I Belong

I was standing alone in the middle of a bridge in the heart of Dublin, waiting for my friend Katie from the States to meet me. A man came up and asked me if I was the girl he was supposed to meet on the bridge, someone named Lisa. I said no, but that I would wait with him while waiting for my friend. We had a lively conversation for about 20 minutes about Ireland, America, and pretty much everything in between. When Katie showed up I thanked him for keeping me company and for the conversation. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a necklace for me. It was only a cheap trinket, the kind you can find in any tourist shop anywhere in the world. But, his action, though small caused a tiny shift in me. A shift I didn't even realized had happened until later.

Tonight, in the tiny harbor city of Villamoura, Portugal I am lounging in a swanky hotel room, courtesy of my friends that came here for a poker tournament. I made the trip from Ireland to Portugal to meet them and hang out for a bit. I went for a walk earlier and decided that I would find the local supermarket. Of course, I got lost and stopped a tiny Portuguese woman and to ask her for directions. In my best broken Spanish/Portuguese/Italian mix I managed to get across to her what I was looking for. She gestured to where I needed to go and in the end, walked me there. We chatted the best we could along the way and when we arrived at the market, we said goodbye. She reached into her purse and pulled out a tiny rosary, telling me it would protect me, she handed it to me and walked off.

I have been going at warp speed on the journey of mine, always moving and waiting for the shift to happen. On a bridge in Dublin it happened and I fell into it more tonight. It's the knowledge to my toes that this decision I have made is the right one. It's the growing love for the life I have now chosen. I love every part of this journey, from staying in hostels, to meeting random strangers on the street and for a moment, sharing a part of ourselves. I love making do with very little, sleeping in crowded dorms, and shopping for food to prepare at night. I love meeting people like Hannes, Max, and Eddie, 3 German boys that I hung out with in Dublin and subsequently suffered a wicked hangover from all the drinking we did.

It won't surprise those that know me, that I don't miss a single luxury. I miss the people I left, but not the things and everyday conveniences that made my life so easy. It just seems like too much now. I am realizing that in the end, those conveniences only serve to isolate us from the world. In fact, staying in this gorgeous hotel has made me feel isolated. It has proven that I don't need all of this. I am itching to get back on the road and I know now that it is where I belong at this point in my life.

On Wednesday, I fly to Bangkok. I am going to spend the next year in Southeast Asia. taking my time to soak in every part of it I possibly can. I will be doing heaps of volunteer work in Cambodia and am hoping to stay there for several months. In the bottom of my backpack, I will have a tiny rosary and a symbolic necklace from Ireland. I will take them out occasionally to remind myself that people are out there, just waiting to connect and be connected with. After all, no bridge or street you may cross is too short to stop and connect upon.

Peace, love, and joy

Lara

Perhaps a Little Too Civilized

Yesterday, I took a day to do nothing. I was entirely exhausted, moving around so much and really needed it. I got up late, lounge at the hostel, talked to fellow travelers and read my book. My ass left the couch for an hour of so when I went to explore the town of Galway, but that was pretty much it.

I was in Belfast, Ireland for a couple of days and had an absolute blast. I went on a tour bus to see the coast and Giants Causeway, and despite feeling like a senior citizen, it was amazing. I even flexed my muscles with a little free climbing on the rocks, kicking off my flip flops and going up the wall. The Asian tourists gasped and of course, shot some video of me doing it. It was a blast. I met a couple of solo girls on the bus and we ended up exploring together. That night, we went out to an Irish pub and I ended up hanging out with a Rugby team out of Dublin all night. Of course, that meant copious amounts of whiskey and beer and included staggering into the KFC on the corner at 3 am for fried chicken. I made friends with the bouncers out front and watched a guy try to fight them. It felt almost like home, except the boys all had adorable accents and they outnumbered the girls 30-1. I made it back to my hostel in one piece and tried to quitely get in bed, but I'm pretty sure I failed and managed to wake up the girls sleeping above and beside me. I have to say that Irish boys are incredibly welcoming to us solo traveling girls.

The next day, I woke up bright and early and took the morning train to Galway. I'm not really sure why I came here, except for the surf and the Cliffs of Moher aka The Cliffs of Insanity (Princess Bride reference obviously). The cliffs were amazing, but I'm kind of over cliffs by now. The surf was wicked, but fun. I'm really rusty and hope to get non-rusty in Bali.

Today, I am heading to Dublin. One of my friends from the States is flying in tomorrow and it will be great to see a friendly face from home. I'll be in Dublin until Friday, and then I fly to Faro, Portugal to meet some other friends from the States. I'll have 5 days with them and then I am finally flying to Bangkok to settle in South East Asia for the next year. I plan to volunteer teach in Cambodia and Laos. I can't wait to get down there. Europe is gorgeous and has so much history, but truth be told, it's a little too predictable and a litte too civilized for me. It has also absolutely killed my budget, so I will have to make up for that in SE Asia somehow. With rooms in guesthouses at $3 a night, it shouldn't be too hard.

Off to catch my train to Dublin now.

Peace, love and joy from Galway, Ireland.

Lara

Proud To Be American

I wanted to take a minute and address something that is not only incredibly narrow minded but also very hurtful. In fact, I left a pub in tears tonight. The band leader pointed out that I am American and the entire place booed. Perhaps I shouldn't take it so personally, but the anti-American sentiment I have run into, especially in Scotland, not only shocks me but also saddens me immensely.

I can't recall ever treating someone I have met personally from another country the way I have been treated by some of the people on my journeys. I don't care what country you are from, when you visit America and meet me and my friends we are always incredibly nice and welcoming.

The fact is, I don't always agree with the policies of the American government. Americans aren't one-sided and we are not all ignorant retards living in the back woods and shooting people on site. America is a country made up of wonderful people. It is a true melting pot, more than any other country in the world. I am proud to be American. Proud of my native American heritage, proud to be a 4th generation Montanan. Proud of where I come from and the opportunities I have had. I am proud to travel the world and hopefully show people that we are a multi-faceted country.

I will never claim to be Canadian. I will never hide who I am and where I come from. I will always defend what I believe in and, despite all of our problems, I love America.

Peace, love, and joy

Lara

No Where to Go, No Place to Be.

It's funny how I think of a $50 a night hotel room as a splurge, but in my new reality that's just what it is. 2 nights ago I decided to spend my last night in Italy in the city of Rome, I could hear church bells outside of my private room and a feeling of contentment washed over me.

I have spent the past month of my trip in shared rooms and dorms at hostels and I have to admit, after a while it gets to be too much. It's nice to be completely alone without the fear of someone walking in on me. I am already making lasting memories on my travels and really needed the chance to reflect on them without constant stimulation around me.

I have to admit, Italy was tough at times, mostly because of the language barrier I experienced. It's the first time I have been around people that speak little or no English. More English was spoken in India then in Italy. I had a minor breakdown on the train and had to choke back tears. It is an incredibly solitary feeling to be surrounded by people having everyday normal conversations and not be able to understand a single word of it. I have met a ton of people, first in Sora and later in Praia De Mare that spoke English, but they were mainly tourists and it's just not the same feeling as everyday life would be. Praia De Mare is a tiny beach town on the Mediterranean coast. I spent 5 days there, on the beach, on a boat, and in the water. With the highlight being cliff jumping into the bluest water you can imagine. It was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been too. In the evening, I walked to the village and got dinner with the people from my hostel and had some good bonding times. Days were spent lounging on the beach and getting browner by the day. And then...I knew it would come. That feeling that I needed to move on. It hit me as I was lying on the beach and all I could think of was getting out of Italy as soon as possible. I walked to the internet cafe and searched for flights. Edinburgh, Scotland fit for price and time of departure and that's where I am right now. It's amazing here.

It seems that the longer I am away from home and the more miles I accumulate on this voyage of mine, the more I lose all of the parts of my identity that weren't entirely mine. Most of my pretenses about who and what I am have fallen away and it's just purely me. The conversations I have had with fellow travelers start off with the basics: Who are you? How long have you been traveling? How long have you been in Italy, India, or whevever we may be? Where are you going next? And then the advice follows or the exclamations about how terrific a place is. The backpacker trail is a beautiful thing. Filled with wanderers, explorers and free spirits. Out here, I am nothing special and not so unusual. Its beautiful, how strangers can come together, meetm and become a little bit closer to being a family than most of us solo-wanderers have felt in a very long time.

I will be in gorgeous Scotland for another week or so and then may go to Portugal to meet some poker friends. It will be good to see them, but I am afraid it will be incredibly hard to say goodbye again. After that, I may come back up to Ireland and volunteer at an eco-village with PR work. They are fighting the big oil companies on there coast and I want to do something to help. It will be good to have something to fight for again, even if it's for a short amount of time. I will be making my way down to SE Asia in late September, meeting up with fellow travelers I met in India and volunteering. I plan to spend the next year down there, with a break in Australia thrown in there. My plans keep changing though and its a great thing that they do. I don't want to be locked into a specific date or place and so I am spontaneously wandering. It's the way I love it. Still restless to the core, searching for those special places that will remain in my heart for a very long time.

Peace,love, and joy from Edinburgh Scotland.

Lara

Finding Missing Pieces in Sora

After spending a couple of idylic, yet hedonistic days in Bologna, I decided to head to Sora, Italy to volunteer at a farm-stay. My little brother dropped me off at my train and I was, once again, tranporting myself alone.

My train from Bologna arrived in Rome and I stepped into language hell. I missed the second train of the day and therefore missed my connecting train. The tickets are only in Italian, the signs are only in Italian, and English is not spoken in a widespread manner. All of which combined sent me spinning in circles of confusion. I ended up spending 2 ½ hours in the Rome train center, waiting for the 3nd and last train of the day that would take me to the bus that would take me to Sora. Italians make for some fantastic people watching. Rampant displays of PDA certainly perpetuated stereotypes about Italian men being extremely amourous. I my opinion, it's a fantastic stereotype to have so I whole heartedly approve. I do feel slighly stupid for not knowing Italian, and I am almost apologetic when I tell people I don't understand and ask for English. I am in their country and I shouldn't expect them to speak English to me. I had to ask several people on the train if I was in fact on the right train, kind of a disconcerting feeling to know you may have made a train mistake, and that you might have to just go with it and end up where you end up.

I soon arrived at the final train station on my route and disembarked in Cassesca. It fit every preconception I had of a tiny village in Italy. Old men sat around a checkers table playing, apparently on some mid-afternoon siesta. They told me I was "bella" and did the fingers to the mouth kiss fling. It was absolutely charming. They asked me where I was from and I said America. "Obama!" was and has been the popular response when I tell people I am from the US. It's interesting how widespread the Obama name is around the world. From India to Qatar to Italy, I get the same excited "Obama" reaction from the local people.

I boarded the only bus to be seen in Casessca ,still not exactly sure it was the right one. Only one other person was on the hot, smokey bus with me. The driver twisted and turned the through the hills and some gorgeous landscape passed before my eyes. However, the he was chain smoking, the AC was not working and I began to get quite carsick. I feel like motion sickness is going to be a constant in my life now, yet another aspect of my life I won't be able to control. I started to get genuinely scared that I was on the wrong bus when we flew past the turn-off for Sora. It's extremely hard to convery how utterly frightening it is to be in a foreign country, to not know where you are and not be able to speak the language beyond 5 or 6 basic words. Luckily the driver seemed to understand my panicked words and gestures, saying Sora over and over again helped and he eventually turned around and dropped me at the correct bus station. I called the owner of the farm I am staying at and waited for my ride outside a pizza restraaunt, of course. After being plied with wine, pizza, and pastries by the owner of the pizzeria, my ride finally arrived.

Josephie, the patriarch of the family picked me up and we were off to the eco-farm I had agreed to volunteer at in exchange for room and board. I was supposed to be working at their rustic farm a 20 minute walk away from the main house, however, I would have been the only one there and I didn't want to camp by myself in the woods, with no running water or electricity, especially after my day of utter confusion and exhausting traversing of the Italian countryside. I am now staying in relative luxury at the main house with 2 other volunteers. We started our morning bright and early helping momma Maria prepare breakfast and the receiving our tasks for the day. I was given the chore of sweeping, dusting and organizing the outside meal area and after that was done, I weeded the artichoke beds. Our day of work finishes at 1 after lunch and we are free until dinner time to do what we please. It felt really good to be working again. Not the same kind of work I did before of course, but work nontheless. It's the kind that makes me weary, yet satisfied. I had forgotten how satisfying it is to do chores in which you can see actual results from the hours put in. There is much to be done here at the farm and I am excited for days to be spent wokring in the orchards, riding the horses, and learning to cook bread and pasta in the kitchen. Life is so much simplier here and I love it. I have to laugh sometimes, looking at my life now. I went from making 6 figures a year, to digging in the dirt in order to earn my room and board. That may seem from the outside, as a fall from grace. But, if it is a fall of any kind, then it is me falling into a better part of myself. It's Learning a simplier way of doing things and how to be happy with much less. I haved erased VIP parties, limosines, and celebrities from my life and replaced them with quiet nights reading under the stars, laughing with strangers from other countries and exploring wooded trails in search of hidden lakes. It is now solely who I am that matters, not what I am and who I know. In fact, I hadn't realized how much I missed that until I found that I have unknowingly sought out that very thing. I can walk through the days without speaking a word about my past life and people are more than happy to still lend me a hand and speak a friendly word. Perhaps in my world-wide quest for my better self, I will find a little piece of my personal puzzle buried in the Italian countryside and it will fit perfectly with all the other pieces of me that I am discovering as I go.



Peace, love, and joy from Italy

Lara

Checking Off the "I" Countries

The best part about waking up today was waking up in Italy. I left India 2 days ago to journey to Bologna Italy to see one of my brothers. India. What can I say? You kicked my ass over and over again but I did grow to enjoy and appreciate the area I spent last week in.

After a nightmare car ride, I finally arrived in Anjuna Beach, Goa, India. Goa is known across Europe as a beach destination, but with the monsoon season in full affect, I didn't quite know what to expect. I settled into the Silver Moon guest house last week, the house was surrounded by other guest houses filled with people on the backpacking trail. I met numerous people from all over the world and ate, drank, explored and basically "touristed" with them for a week. Some days though I sat and watched the rain,reading and reflecting on my life now. Even though I am traveling solo, I have learned that I am only as alone as I want to be, as the backpacking trail is full of people doing the same thing I am doing.

My favorites were the Rat pack. Rob, Adam, and Tom. They are 3 guys from Australia that bought bikes in India and are traveling the length of India on said bikes. They hope to make it all the way to SE Asia on their bikes. Tom has been tramping around the world for 8 years and I loved listening to his stories and perspective. I asked myself "could I do that?". I don't really know where or when I will stop traveling, but just knowing that I could do it for as long as I want really inspired me. I got into a debate with one of the girls staying at the guest house about just that. She felt that 8 years was too long, that you could get sucked into a reality that is not in fact, real, just traveling and not entirely committing to anything. I disagreed with her on that point. I think that people get sucked into life wherever they are and whatever they are doing. The bottom line is that right now, I would rather spend time exploring new cultures, volunteering, and immersing myself in the adventure life then sit in an office all day. You can get sucked into daily life in the states and make no mistake about it, it is hard, sometimes nearly impossible to get out. It's all a choice and Tom's choice is as valid as a choice to settle down is. Tom is working on his memoirs right now and they should be a fascinating read. The guys also gave me some good advice. They said "Lara, get used to doing nothing on some days and be happy with it." I am still working on that concept, as I am so used to always hurrying. I am hoping to meet up with the guys somewhere in SE Asia in September and I can't wait to see them again and hear about the rest of their trip through India.

While in Goa, I decided to journey to Italy and bought my tickets 2 days before departure while sitting on the patio of our guest house and drinking beers with the Australians. My little brother attends university in Bologna and he is moving back to the states on August 14th. I hadn't seen him in 3 years and thought I should come to say hello and goodbye. The journey from Goa to Italy ended up taking 43 hours. In that time I rode 4 different airplanes, spent time in Qatar (which I am embarrassed to say, I didn't even know existed until then) and was rerouted and then rerouted again across 1/2 the world. Luckily I had 2 travel companions that were also going to Bologna from Mumbai and they helped keep me awake on our layovers. Qatar was by far the most interesting. Sheiks in full white robes and women in Burkas were everywhere. I found out that it is the richest country in the world and riding on their national airline Qatar Air, proved it. It was pure luxury even in coach. I finally arrived here late last night and collapsed in my brothers spare bedroom. Today we spent time exploring Bologna and ate the best pizza I have ever had. I seem to have a bit of reverse culture shock after India and am still practicing some of the habits I picked up in my time there. From here I will be going to volunteer on a couple of Eco farms in Italy. I plan to spend the rest of the month on 2 farms, one is located in Tuscany and the other in Abruzzi National Park. It should be a great way to really immerse myself into Italy, making a full escape from the normal tourist haunts. I hope to have some interesting stories to share, as one of the farms is a goat farm and the other doesn't have electricity. However, don't be surprised if I change my mind at the spur of the moment and don't go to one of them. After all, this is MY journey and I am just sinking my teeth into the fact that I can go anywhere I want, do anything I want, and spend as much time as I want where I am. Freedom in the truest sense of the word, suits me well.





Peace, love, and joy

Lara

Bollywood and the Train That Couldn't

Our perceptions of ourselves seem to live in a little box during normal everyday life. They live there, ready to be called upon when we need them and we need them almost daily. To have the capacity to say, "This is who I am and this is what I am and this is how I deal with things" is a beautiful thing. What pray tell, do you do when every perception you have of yourself and the world around you is shattered? A whole new part of yourself is opened up and sometimes its not pretty. In the past few days, I have felt angry, powerless, and weak. Not feelings I am proud of, nor ones I expected to have.

I have been able to say to myself in the past this is who I am; I am strong, I am independent, I am fearless. In the past week, India has tested every perception I have every had about who I am and some parts of me have broken down. I am excited to see how they will be built back up and who I will become.

I journeyed to Bollywood 2 days ago, expecting some semblance of life I am used to. I expected a Hollywood type experience, at the very least, my expectations included clean green rooms and the absence of the mongrel dogs prevalent across India. No such luck as the "green room" was practically collapsing in on its self, the mold so pervasive. I seemed to have forgotten, that Bollywood is in Mumbai and Mumbai is an absolute shit hole. The people in Mumbai are ready and willing to rip you off the first chance they can get. I had visions of a bomb going off and destroying Mumbai. Starting over from scratch in a formerly beautiful environment absolutely destroyed by people that seemingly have no concept of how they live. I cannot stress enough how horrible the people are in Mumbai. Every Indian I met there, with the exception of the small school children is out to get something from the Westerners they see, they do so in a manner that makes me angry. Perception number 6, that I won't judge the people around me shattered into a million pieces. After several days of getting cussed at, grabbed, and forced into cabs and rickshaws with no way out unless you give them the money they want, I was ready to get the hell out of there before I became an angry American abroad. Perception number 73, that most people are good, absolutely ripped from my box. Bollywood was simply awful and I left the commercial shoot that I was supposed to be part of early. I sat in a cab for 2 hours, with a driver that spoke almost zero English, not exactly sure if he would take me where I wanted to go. I was shocked when I arrived safely at my hotel, only ripped off a little bit from the cab ride. I am not proud of the anger I felt at my environment in Mumbai, but in the interest of complete honesty, I am able to admit it, perhaps by admitting it, I can learn to accept it.

After escaping to my hotel room and sleeping for a couple of hours, I left to board a train to Goa. I was thrilled to be leaving and tried to have a measure of patience at the train station, though I did speak to a guy grabbing at me in, shall we say, a harsh manner. To his credit he recognized danger when he saw it and a look of shock came over his face, he jumped at least 3 feet back to get away from me. I felt some measure of satisfaction in that. Anger is an universal emotion, easy to spot around the world, and Mumbai had made me angry.

I settled into my compartment in the train utterly alone and rather pleased with it. I had a whole section to myself and after locking up my backpack, promptly feel asleep to the rocking of the train. The trip was to last 12 hours and take me 600km south and I couldn't wait to sleep, read, and do some writing. Sweet dreams me, lights out. After what I suppose was 1.5 hours of traveling, the train abruptly stopped and the door to my compartment was jerked open. An official looking man began yelling at me. "Train done, you go." What the what? I told him I didn't understand, what was going on. "Get off, you go". I quickly grabbed my things and exited the train, in the back of my mind worried that it was just me they were kicking off. Paranoid much? I exited the train and began searching for the French people I had met earlier in the day, relieved when I finally found them. Because of landslides further down the tracks, the train had ended in a small village and we were left on our own. All of us "white people" gathered together. 4 American guys, the French couple, and a Dutch guy with his India girlfriend. The American guys decided to wait and decide later on where to go. So the rest of us collectively decided that the 5 of us would continue on to Goa, some 500 km away, either by bus or car. Basically we all agreed that there was no way in hell we would be going back to Mumbai. We wandered into the small village and had the rickshaw drivers call a friend that had a car. He said he could take us the whole distance for 10,000 rupees. Thanks India again, for completely blowing my budget.

After waiting about an hour, he pulled up in an SUV of sorts, and the 5 of us loaded in. I jammed myself into the very back, and tried to make a nest out of our bags surrounding me so I could get some sleep. Not the best idea I have had, because down the road, I got incredibly car sick and ended up throwing up on the side of the road over and over again. After stopping at a roadside restaurant, in which I suspect they have seen very few white people, I ate some rice and bread and decided to try out the back again. After 20 minutes of riding, I once again threw up on the side of the road and then moved to the very front seat. That's when the fear kicked in. We were traveling through the breathtaking Western Gnat mountains, barrelling along one lane roads at 100km an hour in torrential downpours with sharp ravines on both sides of the road. Armed with only his car horn, which the driver used every 20 seconds, he veered into the oncoming lane too often for my tastes. I buckled up, but knew that if we were to get in an accident, at the very least, my legs would be broken and at the worst, I would be dead. The scene in that movie Romancing the Stone where they careened off the road into a ravine, kept running through my head and I in fact, felt like I was in a movie. It's the first time in a very long time I have felt fear so strong it overtook me. We were stuck, we had no other option and that is a different feeling for me. Perception number 3, that I am fearless, shattered. As an American, I am learning how many options we really do have. We live in a protective bubble of our own making. If we have anything in America, we have options. I didn't have any yesterday and I had to accept that and learn to deal with it.

The Frenchies and I finally arrived at the guesthouse I had booked, at midnight last night. John and Maria, the India owners are very sweet and accommodating. It is a charming place, and Goa is nothing like Mumbai. It is fairly empty of people, and it's absolutely beautiful. I am sitting on the porch area of the house, and there are monkeys screaming at me in the rain forests surrounding me. Maria is checking out the catch of the day from the fisherman that just road up on his bicycle. I have booked a week here, at $2 USD a night, I should get my budget back on track, but I may leave earlier. The power is out from the storm last night and I am craving a hot cup of Nescafe, the Indian version of coffee. I want to go check out the surf today and try to catch some waves, but with the Monsoon season in full force, the ocean is angry.

In the past week I have felt absolutely powerless, fearful, and weak. Those parts of me, in an unknown environment are breaking down. I don't know what will take there place on this journey of mine, perhaps that is why I am doing this. I also am learning to be content with boredom. The internet is spotty all over India, there are few ways to entertain yourself when alone, and so I am learning to be content with not being constantly connected to the outside world. To sit with myself and my own thoughts and to try not to get too bored with myself. I don't know how or when I will be leaving Goa, there are very few ways out and the planes are not reliable, so I am going to try and go with it, take it day by day, and somehow in the end, land where I am supposed to be at that moment in time. Hopefully I will come away with with fairly new perceptions of myself that I can be patient, that I can adapt, and that I can remain positive in horrible circumstances.




Peace, love, and joy,

Lara

Arriving in Mumbai

It's 5 am in Mumbai, India and I seem to have succumbed to a half way case of jet lag. I say half way because I did get a full 7 hours of sleep last night-or is it day? I have been known to get up as early as 5 am in Las Vegas, so I think I will have this licked by tonight. I am almost in tears right now though, trying to find a way to let everyone know that I arrived here ok and failing miserably. The internet doesn't seem to work anywhere and phone cards won't work on the phone in my room that doesn't work.

Arriving after a 16 hour direct flight from Newark at 9 PM last night, I immediately turned on my phone, because old habits die hard and I forgot that I don't have service here. My phone tucked away in my pocket book, I deplaned and entered the 3rd world. It was obvious that I was no longer in a first world country when I was assualted by the overwhelming smell of milddew permeating the airport. I glanced at a departure terminal and it was made up solely of people in sari's and punjab pants, with no white people in sight. Making my way through immigration, I encountered my first problem of sorts. You see, I smiled in my passport picture. Apparently, it's known world-wide to everyone but me, that you aren't supposed to actually smile in your picture. The immigration officer asked me why I was smiling in broken English and I told him because I like to smile. He questioned me extensively and glanced at me and then my picture over and over again. Finally, he let me go and I walked away wondering if I will have the same problem in every country I enter. It's a smile immigration officers of the world, not anything dangerous or deceptive.

Walking out the airport doors I encountered a massive ring of people standing around in a giant circle held back by barricades. I looked for the driver that the hotel sent for me, 75% sure that he wouldn't actually be there and that I would have to figure something out for myself. Surprise! He was there with my name on a placard. Breathing a sigh of humid air relief, we began our 10.5km journey to the hotel I had booked. People have complained over the years about my driving and I now can look back at them and know they are pussies. The driving here is a blast! No lanes to speak up, but 6 rows of cars, rickshaws, and motorbikes seemingly all converging on the same spot. I am proud to say that I caused a minor feeder bender, simply by looking out my window. What I can deduce is that I am A. White B. Female and C. Solo. The men in the car next to us stared at me so hard that they ran into the car in the front of them. Of course, I defiantly and from the confines of the locked car, stared back. I guess you could say that I won the first of many staring contest I feel I will be involved. in. We drove through what I can only call slums. Places the homeless in America wouldn't even live in. Entire buildings blackened from exhaust with all of the windows missing and people moving about inside, dare I say, carrying on with life? I glanced over to the sidewalk and spotted a girl, 4 or 5 years old, naked from the waist down, popping a squat and taking a giant shit. Right there on the sidewalk. In the middle of a city of 18 million people. People weren't paying attention and continued to stream around her.

My hotel is a horrible little place. The milddew smell is the worst I have every encountered. The internet only works for 4-5 hours a day, and no one speaks English here. I think I was ripped off on my bottled water by local standards, but it was only 20 rupees, which is about .40 in USD. My bed is not really a bed, more paper towel thick mattress covering a board. But, as I mentioned before I did manage to get some sleep, so it can't be all that bad. I just washed my clothes from yesterday in the makeshift shower, which consists of 2 buckets for rinsing and a hose running right next to the toliet.

I'm not sure what I am going to do here today except get some breakfast and then wait for the internet to be turned on so I can let everyone know that I am still alive. I have never felt so weirdly alone in my life as I do right now. Not lonely, but 100% alone. I have no idea where I am in Mumbai, I haven't seen a native English speaker since I arrived, I don't speak the language and I don't know where to go. But, I know that I will figure it out and more than likely fall in love with this city and this country. I can definetly feel some infatuation coming on strong and knowing me, it will have blossomed into an all out affair within the week. I just hope he, India, treats me like a bride to be, and throws the same amount of love at me that I will throw at him. As long as I can find a way to connect to the outside world that is.

Peace, love, and joy,

The Numbers Game

I am quite angry with myself today when I look at my budget for my round the world trip. I spent far too much money on nights out with friends in the past 2 months and am going to be paying the price, literally, for the next few years. Did I really need to spend $50 on sushi with the boys? Probably not, though it's always a blast. Beer and rum/whiskey also ate up part of my savings, though I've never been the type to pass on a good drink, I probably should have said no a few more times than I actually did.

So what are the numbers exactly? I managed to save and make off my things around $17,000. I had to subtract money that a former PR client of mine owed me and apparently isn't paying, so that put a large dent in my budget. I also had to subtract money that I had estimated I would get for selling my car, but I am happy that it is going to someone that needs it, so that doesn't bother me so much. All told my budget will be around $14 a day for my entire adventure. I know it doesn't sound like much, especially to Americans. But figure in that I will be staying and eating for free at a number of places I am volunteering at and it's not too bad. I also will be flying on buddy passes whenever I can, (thanks again Sean and Tina!) As transportation typically eats up the majority of RTW budgets I have it made there. I plan to hitchhike in Europe and Southeast Asia, which will save additional moneys. Oktoberfest in September may blow a bit of my budget as the camping spot I reserved costs $10 a day and that doesn't leave much for beer, but I think I can suffer through a couple of months to experience that. I will be staying with friends throughout Australia and Norway, so I can add those days back in for saved money. I also have a friend in Cambodia and I'm hoping he can help me find a cheap place to rest my head. I may be able to find work in Southeast Asia, though truthfully, bar-tending on a beach somewhere doesn't sound like "work" to me. I also joined some affiliate programs for my blog, so if you need to book a flight or hotel click on the links I have here, the money earned will help a lot and since you have to book them anyway.....

This all makes my head spin as I am not very good with budgets. I have been making really good money the past few years and am used to spending as much money as I want. It's going to take a while to change my mindset from freely spending to frugally going without. I don't mind though. I look at it as another challenge. Staying in a $2/night hostel instead of a $40 a night hotel may not sound like much fun to most people, but I say bring it on cheap places! I have camped in conditions far worse than any hostel could present.

So there it is, the number game. Ick. I'm not enjoying thinking about it, but since I don't want to become a dumpster diver in Africa, I better start.

Since this man, I named him Windchime Bob, doesn't seem to care about budgets or even being a normal person, I figure I can pick up the slack. ">

Peace, love, and joy!

Lara