Tempeh and the end of summer

So yogi and I have moved back to Canada. After a bit of country hopping it feels good to be here in one place and enjoying the end of a canadian summer.
We have been cooking up some amazing meals, and I think my next project is to make Tempeh. I found a great site: http://www.tempeh.info/ which explains how to do it. So here we go!

Cana-what?

Canada? Canada. hmm…I guess I am getting used to this word. But seriously, if someone had come to me a year ago and told me “oh yeah, and by the way in one year you will be married and living in Victoria”…I am not sure what I would have done. I would have never (ever) believed them.
But here I am (and I am even enjoying myself!), sitting in Victoria, watching yogi make vegan cookies.

I guess this is the beginning of a new adventure: Canada.

A nice conclusion

I spent the afternoon planting a mango tree. To plant a tree is to be alive. Or something less dramatic. But seriously, planting, working in the garden, digging holes, these are the things that make me feel alive. Especially when doing them with some nice people from around the world.
On the people note: I have now been here for almost one month. the people that arrived at the same time as me are now leaving (there is a minimum stay of 4 weeks here) and suddenly I have found myself completely surrounded by new faces. Its a little over whelming because I was just getting used to the people that were here before. So much energy goes into meeting people, and its not energy that I can easily tap into. I find it easier to muster up the energy to plant a tree. I guess that is kind of why I am here. To plant trees and to expend some energy into the earth. I have spent the last three years working with human beings, and I guess my time here will be spent mostly balancing that out with some ground work.
Originally I planned to stay here until the 9th of March, but I think I will leave on the 1st and head up to Darjeeling. I dont know what is drawing me there (the proximity to the border of Nepal and all the characteristics that a border town will carry? The Tea?).
I have been on the “Hygiene” team this week. This means that a group of 4 of us are responsible for keeping the toilets clean, the washing stations clean, and the showers clean. As well as maintaining the compost toilets. So far it has been a humbling experience, but one of great importance. Its something else to stir a large quantity of shit, or to dig out a tank of already composted waste. Nothing really seems gross after gathering pee and watering plants all morning with it.
Last week I was on the composting team. I learned a lot about how the compost works, and the different elements that make up a good compost. I am definitely going to carry this knowledge with me to Canada and try to work in a community garden there with similar techniques.
….at times I have felt like I am training for something bigger while being here. A zombie attack maybe? The end of the world? I feel like the more I learn here the more prepared I am for anything. In fact the longer I am alive I realize more that I can actually do anything. Its pretty cool.

A vague description

So after being here for over 2 weeks (time goes so fast!) I finally feel like writing about it. I really notice my pattern: one week to observe, one week to adjust, and after all that I can settle a bit.

Its weird being here, surrounded by people (there are over 90 other volunteers here at the moment) and always interacting with everyone. I went from a place where I was surrounded by children, where conversation wasnt really the first thing on my mind, to a place where I am surrounded by people around my age, constantly conversing. I’m still getting used to it and still need to stop and kind of pull myself away once in a while to breath and take it in.

Our schedule here goes like this: Wake up call at 5:30am, this is done by a team chosen at the beginning of the week. Then we go for “morning circle” where we read off the jobs that need to be done and do stretches or yoga or singing. Then we start “first work” for two hours. So far my first work has been watering the swales, which are large indents dug out of the ground designed to slow down the flow of water in monsoon season. Actually I am watering the plants on the bumps of land beside them, which help to hold the water. Its difficult work, because we have to pull a 80 metre hose out into a big field, and then water these six swales, then roll the hose back in. I really love it because its like 6:30am, and you can see the huge yellow sun rising above the trees, burning the morning mist away quickly. I always come back from the job soaking wet and muddy, which is really nice.

Then there is breakfast, which usually consists of some kind of porridge and a whole helping of fresh fruit. Mostly fruit from the land, like papaya and banana, but also pomegranate and guava.

After breakfast we have “second work circle” where we get together and do some activity to kind of loosen up before working again. Today we put on music and danced around the main hut for 20 minutes, which was so sweaty and created some nice connections among the people.

My second work for the last two weeks has been building a garden for the “Healing Hut” (a place for people to get first aid, massages, reiki…etc) I couldnt have asked for a better job, all week I have been doing exactly what I came here looking for. Digging soil, building raised beds, digging circle gardens, learning about and planting medicinal herbs….and most importantly becoming extremely sweaty and muddy and sore.

Ah all these descriptions are boring me. So I guess thats all for now!

Calcutta, Sadhana, and a very very long train ride

So my first lesson in patience here in India: the train ride to Chennai from Calcutta. Quoted a 26 hour ride, I happily boarded, with three books, some snacks, and a some what healthy body. Well 38 hours later I got off (3am in Chennai) with three finished books, hunger (a mouse ate my snacks) and some weird stomach problems. Anyway I made it safe and sound, if a little more then a little disoriented, to Sadhana forest around 7:30am yesterday.
Today is the weekend, which is free time here, so I joined a Nia Dance workshop. It was so fun just dancing around and stomping to the music. After dancing for an hour and a half we sat down and talked for a while and now I am here, sweaty and feeling inspired. I helped cook lunch yesterday, and today I will help cook dinner. Tomorrow I will be “guarding” the mud hole (a giant mud pit that the children from the community come and swim in) to make sure that nobody leaves garbage when they leave.

I think instead of describing my time in Calcutta I will just attach these pictures…

Upon Arrival

Arrived in India yesterday. First thing you notice, while barreling down the street in a taxi, is the smell. Somehow it reminds me of long summer days spend on a friends barge. A mix between bread, tea and something else. Beautiful.
The streets are packed with cows, people, carts, and the occasional pack of goats, everything engulfed in the steam rising from kettles of Chai.
We sat and ate huge dallops of thick paneer with burnt chapati, washing everything down with small cups of spicy chai.
Everything here is fast at first it is a lot to take in. But after an hour of walking the streets of Calcutta you start to feel the beat of it all and melt into its tempo.
Every hour we stop and squat at the side of an alley where people serve you chai in hand made clay cups. The cups are just discarded in the street afterwards, left to disintegrate back into the pavement. If you ask me its a much better idea then “to go” cups of the West.

I am “stuck” in Calcutta for another couple of days, as the next free seat on a night train is on the 19th. I am happy for this small break inbetween everything, as now I will get the chance to see the city a bit more before heading south.

Breakfast this morning consisted of fresh curd with muesli, alongside a large cup of strong coffee.

I can see how people get stuck here.

A memory full of dust

I really thought I wouldn’t cry. I mean, when I woke up I felt great. When I ate leftover banana cake that I had made the night before for the kids, I felt great. When I packed the final things into my bag I felt great.
But then I put everything in the truck. I went pee. I did all the regular things one does right before embarking on a trip. Double checked my important things.
Passport, yes.
Money, yes.
Water bottle, yes.
Emotions? Suddenly I was full of them. Sad, happy, excited, sad sad sad.

So I held off the tears until we started to pull away from the house. Then in a silent burst they started flowing. Probably when Michai shouted Bye to me from the garden he was digging in. Maybe it was when Boonmi tapped my shoulder and promised he would email me everyday. Or maybe it was when I was hit with that familiar feeling of dust shooting up behind the truck, filling my eyes and mouth.
Whatever the reason, I cried. A lot. And it felt good. It felt good because it was sadness that was appropriate. It wasn’t dramatic or too deep. It was Just sadness about leaving a place that had become my home; just sadness about leaving people that had become my family.

But now there are so many things to be excited about. This little hiatus in Bangkok is exactly what I needed to get my thoughts all rearranged and ready for India. Something familiar followed by something oh so unfamiliar.

I got out of my taxi and started to walk towards my guesthouse. I had my pack for india on my back, and a suitcase full of stuff for Canada (that I am leaving in Bangkok while I am gone) on my hand. Then there was a loud ripping noise and my pack fell apart. I guess that’s what you get for 200 baht in Sangkla. Ah well at least I have multiple sewing kits on hand.

And so I begin my next adventure.

My first (successfull) attempt to give blood

So this morning, after a thick black cambodian coffee, I decided to walk around a bit. As I was walking I saw a sign for donating blood, something I have always wanted to do but have never found the chance. It was easy enough to find the place, a small hospital tucked behind trees and other buildings. The walk there was riddled with calls from Tuk Tuk and motorbike drivers “Hello Ladeeee, you want to see Angkor Wat? You want to go to the Temple” or “Ladeee you want motorbike Ladeee” or “Hello Madam, where you go?!”
I walked through the different buildings of the hospital, under the careful watch of the locals waiting for the doctors, and found in the very back a small room to donate blood. The woman inside looked up from her desk (the room was just big enough to fit a desk, a bed and two chairs) and seemed quite surprised to see me. Once she realized I wasnt lost, that I was there to give blood, she started laughing and pulling out papers for me to fill out. After reading over my answers with a certain diligence she seemed to approve me and promptly pricked my finger to test my blood type. B Positive was the result (this I already knew from a test I had in Sangklaburi before). All the paper work done she sat me down on the small bed and went about finding my vein.
First the right arm. She tied an elastic around the upper part, gave me a ball to squeeze, and wiped alcohol over the spot where my vein was supposed to be. She seemed a little perturbed as she pulled out the needle, and she glanced at me a bit nervously. “Small” was all she said in English, and a long sentence in Khmer (Cambodian language).
Anyway she shoved this large needle into my arm and I guess it was too big for my vein. She began probing around a bit, perhaps with the intention of finding a spot that would produce more blood (although it felt more like she was puncturing all my veins in the vicinity of the needle). After about 2 minutes of this painful prodding and poking she finally gave up and pulled the needle out. She let out an exasperated “Small!” and went over to call another nurse on her cell phone.
This time the other nurse took my left arm (my right arm already producing a prominent bruise where the needle had failed) and tied it off, swabbed it with alcohol, and stuck a needle into the most prominent vein.
This time it was success! I thought I would feel dizzy or something, but I felt fine as they took a bag of my blood. Once everything was through they shoved a t-shirt, a pamphlet, a little card that says Thank You, and a can of coke into my hand and shooed me out the door.

Motorbike taxis and border crossings

Me: Helmetless, teeth clenched, holding on to the back of the motorbike so tightly that my knuckles are surely white, and trying to squeeze every part of my body in so as not to knock hit the cars we are swerving in and out of.
The Motor Bike Taxi Driver: Casually taking one or both his hands off the handle bars of the motor bike to scratch various body parts/adjust various pieces of clothing/answer his phone while driving at least 50 kilometres per hour in between cars and other motorbikes and people etc…
As we drive I slowly start to accept the fact that I will die on the back of this motorbike. Thats it for me, goodbye world, it was nice knowing you! I regret not putting a little note in my passport telling people who to contact. Why did I get on this thing? What was I thinking??
….but, as you can probably tell from this entry, I survived and reached my destination.

The positive side to hopping on the back of one of the millions of orange vested army of motorcyle taxis (and yes, if you had asked me the positive side while I was riding on the back of that death trap I would have shrieked that there IS NOTHING POSITIVE…but now, safe on the ground I can tell you there is in fact some positive aspects to it..):
1. You will (assuming you dont die) reach your destination much quicker then in a taxi or a bus. With a taxi, if there is a traffic jam, you can sit in traffic for hours…waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and…waiting. But, with a motorcycle taxi you can zip between everyone, ride up on the side walk, go through hidden areas and parks, etc and reach your destination with almost no waiting.
2. Its generally cheaper. Usually they will quote an outrageous price, you (it helps to use a little Thai) quote something outrageously low, they quote something else, and you find a happy medium.
3. Its exciting. This coming from a person who has no desire for dangerous things (I went on one roller coaster in my life and promptly decided NEVER to go on one again…further more I dont even like to ride my bike down hill very fast) But there is something exhilarating about zipping around Bangkok with all its horrible smog and loud noises. Providing the ride is short and you arent carrying too many things, it can be great.

And..since I listed the Postive aspects of taking a motor taxi…why not touch on the Negative?
1. You may die. Now this seems a little morbid, but seriously you will feel as though you are about to die about a million times before you jump off at your destination, wobbly kneed and shaking all over.
2. The no-helmet thing. Only once have I been offered a helmet to use while riding on the back of one of these death machines. Every other time the driver has been safely protected and I have been left with the looming potential of a smashed skull.
3. The chance you might loose a limb. These drivers swerve in and out of the narrowest traffic lines, sometimes (the lucky times) you just knock an elbow or a knee. But be perfectly aware that if you forget to pull those limbs in close to you at ALL times, you risk loosing them.

So for some reason I decided to take this taxi on my way home from picking up my Indian Visa. Maybe I was excited about the visa, about the prospect of India, so excited that I didnt feel like sitting cramped in a taxi, but instead like riding around bangkok, the wind in my hair and smog in my lungs….but I am well aware that it was a stupid idea.

And now I am in Cambodia. After a few days in Bangkok I got on a bus and came across the border.
When I reached the border the first thing I noticed was a strong smell of fish. Walking across the Friendship Bridge (Bridge leading from Thailand to Cambodia) I glanced around for the source of this strong, almost nauseating smell. Aha! There, sneaking under the bridge was something that maybe at one time resembled a river. Now, it was a black, thick, gooey beast, slithering its way under the bridge and stinking up the whole are. Mmmmm just what you need after a long bus ride and confusing, cramped, border crossing.

Anyway I met a couple of guys from California who were also going to Siem Reap. I suggested we share a Tuk Tuk (a motorbike with a carriage) to this guesthouse. The guy pretended to know what I was talking about when I asked him to take us to Garden Village, then proceeded to ride around for a while asking people where it was. But he was nice and although we stopped at many wrong guesthouses before reaching the right one, he didnt get angry or seem hostile.
The place I am staying has 1$ dorm beds, .50 cent beer, and 1 dollar food. Yogi stayed here last year, and it was on his recommendation that I found it.

So, another country, another adventure!

A short stop over

Things are always changing, and this time the change is simultaneously great and daunting.

I will leave the home a little early, and fly to India for two months.  A few things going on here triggered this decision, but in the end I realized it is something I need to do.  Not because of something, but for something.

So, after one sleepless night I booked my ticket, and I will be flying out of Bangkok to Calcutta on January 16th.  From there I am not entirely sure what I will do, but volunteering at an organic farm seems to me the best place.  I need to spend some time with plants, as I have spent the last 3 years dealing with humans and my patience is getting thin.

So there it is. After so long I am suddenly going in two months.  Less then two months.  When I think about it I want to cry, but I also feel relieved.  I have devoted my life for a long time now, and lately I could feel it weighing me down in a way I cant really explain.  Maybe it is because I am on my way to Canada, where I may be spending 2 or more years, so I feel like I need to see a little bit more of the world before settling down for so long.

What ever it is, the feeling got the best of me, and soon I will be exploring a new country!