Keep Trying

Vomit filled hands and bed sheets, diarrhea filled toilet, multiple night sessions of nursing are a few highlights of Spring Break Trip 2019. (Similar, but not quite like the old MTV shows, “Spring Break, 1996! Club Med/Cabo/Key West…!!!) Camping and traveling with a one year old and a three year old is not for the faint of heart.

Matt and I strategically stuffed two giant duffle bags with clothes, blankets and maps for the kids and ourselves, but kept them small enough to count as carry ons. I packed our Kelty backpack for Reid with diapers, wipes, toys and snacks to fit under the seat. Ruby carried her own backpack with a water bottle and activities. We also packed hope that the kids would be adorable angels on our flight to Sacramento. The airplane trip is something I do with bated breath-praying to make it to our destination without being “those people” who can’t stop their baby from screaming or three old from whining and covering the walls with crayon graffiti.

After a rest at Grandma and Gramps, we climbed into our rented 1989 Westfalia to begin the trek to Yosemite National Park for four days of camping, hiking and waterfall viewing. The van was decked out with everything we needed from fluffy pillows, Clorox wipes and a cast iron pan- ideal for Matt’s delectable grilled cheese avocado sandwiches.  The sun shown brightly as we climbed at Volkswagen van speed, through the green rolling hills and up the winding roads. Upon entering Yosemite Valley the traffic was as bad as Seattle.  Tourists made typical questionable decisions like stopping in the street to get their Insta worthy shot of Bridalveil Falls.  We chugged to our campsite, wedging between the Sprinter vans and RV’s.  Despite that the sun hadn’t set yet, campfire smoke already blanketed the grounds.  This is Matt’s and my new life when camping with little people. I yearned to follow a trail that went up, up, up to the highest lookout, leaving all the other visitors behind. Instead, we took a few “hikes” around the valley floor, involving little elavation gain or length, but some whining, teddy bear graham bribes and hundreds of other people doing the same thing we were. We had just a couple of hours to explore before being forced to retire to our campsite for nap time.

The highlights arrived in different forms- meeting up with my brother, sister in law and two nephews, forced relaxation (I almost finished my book!), Matt’s grilled cheese sandwiches, sitting by the Merced River watching Caleb build a log, pine needle boat, soaking in the vastness of granite formations, the power of water pouring off the rock faces…

On our last night of camping, Matt and I stayed up a little longer after finishing our bottle of wine. Hiding from the neighbor’s lantern glare, I asked him if he’d enjoyed the trip. Matt had been so excited to explore Yosemite valley, to rent the van and to pull it all off with our kids. He answered me, “I guess this is our new reality when camping with kids. It’s just different. What are we going to do though except keep trying.” And that is exactly what we will do. People say it gets easier as the kids get older (especially when they are not crawling in the dirt, wearing diapers and putting charcoal bits in their mouth).  I look forward to that.

For now, I will lean into the opportunity to try again, with gratitude for a partner who keeps us moving forwards. Grateful for our kids, who humble us as we fumble our way down this parenting trail.

 

Repurpose

I just finished a trail run in the meadow among the lupines, wild grasses and trees, the sun shining, blasting me with Vitamin D. Everything smells sage sweet and I’m full of energy.

Why would I ever leave Tahoe?

1. My skin is like a lizard, dry and constantly molting.

2. Good Wild Alaskan Salmon and Dungeness Crab are lacking.

3.  California is sinking deeper in a drought and the future of water resources doesn’t look promising.

4. I look ridiculous in a trucker cap.

So, off I go, back to Seattle.  My last month has been spent in South Lake Tahoe.  SLT is a difficult place to leave. The lake is just beginning to warm, the weather is perfect for hiking, supping, biking and swimming.  I even have work, but just the perfect amount to allow plenty of playtime with new friends or solo.  Additionally, my brother is here, whom always gets me into trouble when we’re out doing fun stuff.  I have an inspiring sister in law who encourages me to learn what I need and go get it.  I have two young nephews who change every day, growing and burgeoning into distinct personalities.  Caleb told me he will miss me more than all the coconuts people eat, the ones on the ground and in bags.  Despite all of this, it’s time to return.  There are friends and family to reconnect with AND it’s the best time of the year in the Pacific Northwest.

Returning to the Evergreen State is an opportunity to settle back in to Matt’s and my beautiful dwelling, but also to repurpose my path.  The joy of traveling, as my friend Mallory and I discussed, is that each day is different from life at home.  Traveling encourages learning and experiencing in a way we may not otherwise.

“You’ll never change your life until you change something you do daily.  The secret of success is found in your daily routine.” John C. Maxwell

Miles in disguise.

 

 

 

Another reason not to leave- great hair!

Wildflowers and Aspens

Transformation

Enlightenment. Nirvana.  Transformation.  I had a shot at these when I departed Seattle in July 2013.  The last days of this year of travel are nearing and despite a ridiculous number of hours pedaling, hiking and seeing different parts of the world, I still can’t say I know what to do with my life.  For some reason, I expected the universe to knock me over the head with my supreme path laid out in front of me.  Unfortunately, that didn’t happen and I’m the same old me, just with a sassy $4 Cambodian haircut.

Matt and I landed in San Francisco 2 weeks ago from Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  We had a whirlwind reunion with my family before Matt again boarded a plane for Alaska to fish for the summer.  Now I find myself in South Lake Tahoe with my brother, sister in law and nephews for my last month before reality sets in.  Maybe this stunning place is where I will be awakened to my purpose as I sit in the hot tub gazing at the millions of stars that decorate the sky.

Perhaps there is no such thing as transformation.  It could be just a Hallmark idea, like Mother’s Day, to make some people feel like shit and others feeling as though they wrongly have all the answers.  Years ago, I attended a 10 day yoga teacher training in which the instructor said, “You will be transformed.  If you aren’t, that’s your own fault for resisting.”  Well, it’s been at least 6 years and I’m still waiting for this said transformation.  Honestly, I’ve tried not to resist!

Although the metamorphosis hasn’t happened for me, I have learned a great deal this year.  I was able to tap into a mental and physical stamina I didn’t know was there as I pedaled through forests, deserts and over mountain passes for 4,500 miles.  I also realized that I adore traveling, but I also love our house and the luscious light that has been created there.  I’m eager to return to it.  I learned to appreciate the homes of others that were offered up to Matt and I for a night, a week or a month.  Strangers have become friends and family.  Blood and married family as well as old friends  have reminded me how lucky I truly am to have them in my life and not just for the shelter.  Most of all, my appreciation for the man of my dreams has grown interminably.  I am so grateful to have spent a year with Matt by my side as we lived our dreams, learned about each other and crushed the Southern Tier on bicycles.  (Well, crush is a strong word…)

No, I cannot say my life purpose has been illuminated this year, but I have some fresh ideas and I sure had one helluva trip.

 

Last night in Vietnam spent with an old rediscovered friend. Thanks Chinh!

G & T’s at Aunt Sue’s

Caleb and I at the park. He takes my heart every time.

Whole Foods Market, Roseville comes through. They also had some delish rose wine.

G & T’s at the Granite Bay B & B with the old man.

Cascade Lake with Lake Tahoe on the backdrop. Pretty alright.

 

 

 

 

HAPPY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6Sxv-sUYtM

We all want to be “happy.”  How can we box up glee and call it good?  Could this volatile emotion be so simple?  There have been countless research studies done on happiness and which cultures maintain it.  I believe visiting other countries and observing what brings joy to the inhabitants is imperative.  Travel out of your own microcosm brings perspective to everyday life, even if it’s just a stopover across the tracks of your neighborhood.  In some places, this can feel like another country.

Vietnam has provided a supreme example for escaping my western life.  It is a contrasting lifestyle, which is often considered poor, corrupt, dirty,  and inefficient.  It takes a face to face throw down to gain my own angle.  I look around me as the 90 degree air weighs heavily with humidity on my shoulders and I laugh.  I laugh at my discomfort and irritation while a local below my shady balcony is pushing a massive cart piled with a boiling pot of pho, a crock of rice noodles, various toppings and plastic red stools that will all be assembled on a street corner to make a couple bucks for the day.  As my wise husband often says, “Money can’t buy you happiness, but it buys you options.”

I think of Sam, the 22 year old, Hmong woman guide Matt and I met in Sapa.  As we trekked through the mountain villages, this tenacious woman joked with us in her self taught, excellent English and illustrated her daily life for us.  She’s up at 4:30am.  She cooks breakfast over an open fire and gets her kids and husband ready for the day.  She tidies the cement floored house then hikes the 3 hours to the market to sell hand sewn bags.  She returns home, works in the rice paddies and cooks dinner.  She stays up late sewing clothes with the hemp thread she’s created into fabric and dyed with the indigo plant.  I stare at her with awe.  She laughs wryly, “In my next life, I think I’d like to be a boy.”  (Males push water buffalo plows in the rice paddies, drive motor bikes, and sip home fermented rice wine while chain smoking cigarettes.)  Sam still smiles widely with joy when we run into her small boy playing outside.   I can see her bright will shining despite a difficult life.

Children in Vietnam are constantly giggling, running and playing with each other.  Two or three pile on a bicycle and scream through the streets.  They toss flip flops like frisbees, kick decrepit soccer balls or simply blow plastic bags into balloons.  On Matt’s and my visit to Ninh Binh, just south of Hanoi, we encountered a gaggle of kids on the rustic road. They yelled, “Hello!!!” and followed us chuckling to each other as they alternately posed questions to practice their English.

“What is your name?”

I replied, “My name is Jenny.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

They nodded, eyes already off in the distance as they worked out the next question, which is usually, “Where are you from?”

Soon, they dash off, pushing one another and giggling with the ease of innocence.

Vietnam has a tumultuous past and the struggle continues.  Currently, it has one of the most flourishing economies.  Unfortunately, Vietnam still suffers from gender inequality, inaccessibity to health care and income disparity.  People here, especially women work hard.  They labor to protect their families and to hopefully give their children a more prosperous future.  Despite the hardships of life in this communist country, locals are still quick to grin.  Even as I haggle for a couple of ceramic mugs, we still smile and say, “I’m happy, you happy.”  (I’m not going to lie here because sometimes I’m not psyched with the end deal and sometimes the seller lets me know with a sour face that she’s not at all pleased.)

Matt and I visited Hoi An and noticed an omnipresent “happy hour”.  It’s happy hour all the time and that doesn’t just include mojitos.  Folks selling keychains would tell you at 2pm that it was happy hour.  I’m not sure if that implied 2 for 1 keychains or what.  I did wonder if there was a “ladies night” keychain sale though.

Le Ly Hayslip wrote about happiness in her fascinating memoir of the Vietnam War titled When Heaven and Earth Change Places.  She muses,”In the West, for example, people believe they must “pursue happiness” as if it were some kind of flighty bird that is always out of reach.  In the East, we believe we are born with happiness and one of life’s important tasks, my mother told me, is to protect it.  It seemed strange to me then, when the Catholic teachers told us that little babies were “born into sin” and must spend their lives struggling miserably to overcome it.  How can one be happier than a little baby?  They come into the world with nothing and could not before pleased about it.  How long must a pious rich man live to be happier than a baby?”

Perhaps the final truth is that everything we think we need to be joyful, we already have.

Hanoi Beer on a cruise of Halong Bay. Smiles all around.

Cat Ba Island Bungalows

Cargo Bike, Ninh Binh

Leprechaun husband biking outside Ninh Binh before the rain storm forced us inside for a beer.

Unbelievable feast we shared at the Saigon Hotel in Ninh Binh with the hotel owner and her family. Incredible kindness.

Touring the Forbidden City in Hue.

Vietnam War remnants in Khe Sahn. Nothing will grow here except weeds due to Agent Orange.

Vinh Moc Tunnels. People lived in these hand dug tunnels during the war for 6 years. Luckily, Vietnamese tend to be smaller than Westerners.

Quite the contrast- a Buddist altar behind with seasoned war heads in front.

Hoi An, the lantern city

My borrowed hat for the ferry ride to the market in Hoi An.

You want it? They have it.

Including toads on a leash. Bag ’em up.

Out of the mire grows beauty. Lotus flower.

Laughing Buddha. If you are lucky, you can sleep inside the quarters in his belly.

Undesirable Passengers

A lime green bellied snake with a twine noose was yanked back when the threatening mouth came too close to it’s handler. The serpent attempted to coil around the beholder’s arm, seeking what we all do-Freedom.

We wouldn’t have noticed the snake if a passenger in our mini bus hadn’t pointed it out. Twelve of us were crammed in like sweaty Vienna Sausages, along with all of our backpacks and suitcases. We were cruising down the mountains of northern Vietnam to the train station from Sapa. Our intrepid driver shouted into his cell phone as he attempted to pass every truck and motor bike in his path.

The road side snake was spotted as we sped along. The mini bus halted, then reversed up the highway. Our driver jumped out, excited about the slithering reptile. He gestured to the handler as the snake reared it’s head towards him, but was reprimanded with a pull of the lasso.

In the mini bus, we stared with anxious curiosity. What was to become of the snake? Was it going to be butchered for a bowl of reptilian pho? Would it be released back into it’s bamboo forest home with a PETA war cry? The air was thick with humidity and anticipation.

The Americans, Australians and French sat breathless as we watched the driver hand over a few dong to the snake owner. They proceeded to stuff the serpent into a burlap sack and tie it with a string ferreted out of the dirt. Our driver jumped back into the mini bus, tossing the bag into the lap of his right hand man. None of us tourists knew what to do as we sat, trapped in a mini bus, with a potentially deadly animal. Scenario after scenario ran through my mind as we still had 20 km to get to the train station. The snake could coil around my leg forming a tourniquet then requiring amputation! Or it may bite my calf, leading to a slow venomous death, Matt squeezing my hand with tears in his eyes saying, “I’ll always love you.”

I tried to take in the lovely scenery of terraced rice paddies on the mountain sides or the tribal people hawking goods, but the thing was, there was still a damn snake in my ride.

We finally rolled into Loa Cai where the train station was located. Our driver paused the mini bus at a shop front that looked to be empty at the moment. The right hand man leaped out and dropped the convulsing bag inside the shop’s entrance with a smile. He hopped back in and we peeled out, tearing off for the station.

We foreigners assumed this was all a friendly prank or perhaps it was actually some ritualistic voodoo? Either way, we will never know, as no one spoke Vietnamese and we all fled from the mini bus as quickly as possible. The adventures of foreign travel continue.

Sapa Saturday Market

Brunch of stir fried egg, veggies and rice noodles, a side of apple wine with a couple of wee flies.

Carbohydrate Cornucopia

Hmong woman selling goods in Sapa

BIA HOY! Gathering spot mostly frequented by men with cheap beer.

Street food barbecue dinner

Trek to local Hmong village with Sam

Old school.

Travel can remind us how truly wealthy we are- a hot shower, an education and choices.

Our after trek lunch in Zee’s home.