Part 5: "You wanna maaasaaaaage?" -Thailand

I didn't give Thailand a fighting chance.

Oh Thailand. Despite how much I love Thai Air (undoubtedly the best airline in the world and what is probably the singular pride of this country) arrival gave me a feeling that reminds one of a bad taste in the back of your throat, or a rock in your shoe, or the faint touch of a headache, or that horrible phantom smell that haunts my apartment.

It's not that there weren't things to love about this place. In fact I'll list them right now, in no particular order:

• Watermelon shakes (or any kind of shake for that matter)
• My company's annual conference (by far more refreshing than even the watermelon shakes)
  
• Getting to spend time with friends new and old (and all the encouragement that goes with that)
  
• Tons of good western food to eat
• Interesting markets (including women in strange hats with wooden frogs chasing you everywhere)
  
• Beautiful green gardens and bright flowers
• The dentists (I had such a good experience I wanted to go back the next day too!)

And it's not that there weren't some really fun stories to tell. Ask me to give you a Thai massage. Or give me a moment to describe what it's like to buy a cheeseburger for a stranger. Maybe I'll mention the "ice cream sandwiches" and the way that everyone freezes when the national anthem is played.

The truth is that by the time I got to Chaing Mai I had definitely reached travel saturation point. In fact, I did everything I could to avoid the culture of that place. The high nasal sound of the Thai language often made me grit my teeth, the way that temples and idols and spirit houses seemed to sneer out at me from every corner made me shudder, the horror that the prostitutes sold not only their bodies but everything about their culture to the more perverse western clientel produced an uncontolable nausea. Looking back, it is to my regret and dismay at myself and my own feebleness that I countered these things, not with the love and grace that they deserved, but with retreat.

I wish I had never had to see the guys from my company get harrased by eager, or desperate, prostitutes, or idols being paraded through the streets, or children forced out among the vulgar late at night to make a few bhat selling semi wilted flowers, or destitute people merely accepting their fate, or the filth of western tourism and the way that it successfully trashed that culture.

I wish I had never forgotten that we are called to be servants to those prostitutes, light to block out those idols, generous with those children, sympathetic with those destitute, and healing to the broken things of those people.

I was relieved to leave that place and dismayed that I had shown it so little grace. May I be forgiven for the way that I recieved Thailand.

Part 5: Thailand in pics

Part 6: "I will give you ten THOUSAND dong" - Vietnam

I went to Vietnam on a whim (a whim of mine, He had it planned long ago), meaning, essentially, that I almost didn't go at all. And like all the places I'd been to before this I knew almost nothing about the history or the culture.

However, from the very moment that I boarded the plane to Hanoi I was head over heels enchanted with this place.

Maybe it was the way that the buildings were a feast for the senses in their crumbly, multi-colored, old European architecture. Maybe it was the fascinating way that the largely motorcycle traffic moved like water around those attempting to cross the street. Or the language made up of six clearly discernible tones unlike any I had heard yet. Maybe it was the way that the street food consisted of every imaginable Asian delicacy and French baguettes to boot. Or the way that people crowded the dirty sidewalk on tiny plastic stools to consume all manner of pho. Perhaps it was the cacauphony of fading car horns, sellers hawking their wares, and birds twittering in cages. Or the miracle of thousands of tiny limestone islands and caves rising out of the misty turquoise waters of Halong Bay. Maybe it was the fact that one U.S. dollar would get you almost 18,000 dong with which you could buy your fill of any fruit flavored tea with or without ice. Or the labyrinth of streets only marked by what was being sold, one street for shoes, one for toys, one for tin, one for gold. Perhaps the way that every single person was overwhelmingly hostipitable, the way that they insisted that I looked charming, memorized my name, and told me that in Vietnam people look forward to the future rather than being angry at the past... maybe these things were what did me in.

My final day in Hanoi was typical of my entire time there and went something like this:
-A morning spent shipping a rice hat back to the states with a friend. In, what I assume is typical Vietnamese fashion, they didn't just place the hat into a large box stuffed with packing peanuts (which is what my western mind was anticipating) instead they cut up some cardboard boxes to create a package which fit the pyramid shape of the hat.
-A quick walk around the lake to find another friend who was waiting provided a group of five Vietnamese guys the chance to celebrate Valentine's Day with a foreigner as they stopped to hand me a paper rose and blushingly wish me a happy day.
-A trip to the women's museum granted us a new perspective on the Vietnam war as well as the lot of women who work as street vendors in Hanoi.
-A bowl of "speical" pho for lunch, some peach tea with ice as refreshment, and then a long car ride back to the airport with an extremely kind driver.
-A Vietnamese girl heading to Austraila to study as a seat mate was a special treat and as our plane landed in Bangkok she gave me a 500 dong note and a DVD of Casablanca as proof of our friendship.

Totally content to just absorb such a place, people, culture, and history I couldn't believe I had to leave.

I would love to return. That place is alive. Things are happening there even if I can't put my finger on what.

Part 6: Vietnam in pics

Part 7: "Look for the guys with hats and wooden frogs" -The Return

One might wonder why the return to Lhasa needs its own section. If that is the case then one needs to read on.

A hundredth glance at the return trip details put goosebumps on my skin. Yes, the three day two night trip plans back to Lhasa never failed to make my heart sink even from the moment they were made . An evening flight from Hanoi to Bangkok, a night in Bangkok at some yet to be determined hotel, a morning flight from Bangkok to Chengdu, a lonely taxi ride to a family's house where I could spend the night, a morning flight back to Lhasa to board a bus that would take me an hour ride into the city and then a taxi ride up to the school. All that alone and with a 18 kilo backpack. It puts goosebumps on my skin even now.

So it was with some mild anxiety that I got in the car to head to the Hanoi airport. Thai Air 685, perhaps the best airline in the world, arrived in Bangkok at 10.30pm. After customs and baggage it was well after 11pm when I stepped out of the airport.

Here's where things start to get amazing. Four guys from my company had also made plans to spend that night in Bangkok. Prior to leaving conference (now almost two weeks ago) I had asked them if they would meet me at the airport and help me find a place to stay with them. Their response: "Just look for the guys with hats and wooden frogs." So I was looking.

And one terrifying phone call later (in which they asked where I was and how I was doing and oh you're at the airport?) I took a deep breath and turned to see all four of them, it wasn't a moment later that they had grabbed up all of my bags, argued for a decent price with a taxi that we could all fit into, told me dozens of stories about their time in Krabi, driven up to the hotel, and marched all of my bags up the stairs to what was easily the nicest room I had stayed in the entire trip, told me what time breakfast was, what time they had arranged another taxi to take us back to the airport in the morning, and if I needed anything else they were in the room right next door.

As the door shut behind them I felt the rain drops of grace that had been dripping down on me my entire life from Him who sits in heaven turn into a shower. I had a hard time falling asleep that night, not out of discomfort, but out of sheer overwhelming gratitude.

The next morning we ate the American breakfast together (just like a group of guys to choose the breakfast with 5 different kinds of protein) and piled into a taxi back to the airport. Together we got our boarding passes (although we were on different flights), together we went through customs, together we passed through security at our gates (although their plane was scheduled to leave some time after mine). As I waved goodbye the four of them reminded me "Kelly, don't forget your armor, your helmet, your shield..."

Grace. Grace showering all over me.

One step down only two more to go. A desperate hope that I might still have enough money on my phone to call the family that I had arranged to stay with. Without the security of having those four guys to totally take care of me I felt worry creep in again and repeated like a mantra my armor... helmet of salvation, breastplate of righteousness, belt of truth, feet fitted with readiness that comes from the gospel of peace, sword of the spirit, shield of faith...

And then it got amazing again. As I searched for an empty seat I saw none other than the husband of the very family I was going to spend the night with. Waiting at my gate! Rushing over to him I just wanted to touch him to make sure he was really there. Now it would not matter that I had no money on my phone and I would not have to negotiate the taxi alone. And what is more I could spend the evening with some folks who have lived and worked in Lhasa a long time. Fellowship with them was balm to my weariness. My travel was close to being done and it was all I could do to hold back tears of gratitude as I ate dinner with them and sat that evening with their dog in my lap.

That shower of grace without warning had become a flood.

Don't be fooled into thinking the amazement had run out. There were a few details left. I had given the school too late notice for them to arrange a car to come and pick me up at the airport. I would have to bus it back to Lhasa. I had no money on my phone so I borrowed the house phone to call Soba, my monk friend. Immediately upon hearing my dilemma he offered to put money on my phone and made me promise to call him as soon as I was back in the city. I slept that night drowing in grace.

I arrived in Lhasa the next day, took the easiest bus ride I had ever ridden back into the city. The hour on that bus was enough for me to be reminded why I had come so far, enough for me to feel back in this place of my calling, enough for me to be reintroduced to the ache of this city. As soon as the bus stopped Soba was there. He grabbed up my bag and we went to drink some tea. He helped me get back to the apartment and told me to take a nap. A few hours later he called and took me to go eat some dinner.

Floods of grace that look like cups of tea and bowls of dumplings.

A final amazing thing. After dinner I walked across the street to my grocery stand family to buy some fruit to eat the next morning. The last time I had seen them before I left I had handed them a thank you note which I had another friend write in Chinese and a bag of homemade cookies. As I walked up to the stand all three of them grabbed my hands and began asking me all kinds of things in Chinese (as though my disappearance somehow improved my total lack of language skill). I picked up three bananas and three apples and held them out to be weighed as I waited for the price. The mother beamed, grabbed my hands, and pushed the bag away from the the scale. I would not have to pay for these fruits. "Xie xie," I mumbled my eyes wide in disbelief. "Bu xie" was the smiling reply.

And in my head the words rose like a picture, "He did not even spare His own Son, but offered Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him grant us everything."

Somehow the wind that evening hummed such a familiar tune: amazing amazing grace, how sweet the sound... back at 12,000 ft.

A teaser and intro to the epic...

"Stories only happen to those who are able to tell them, someone once said. In the same way, perhaps, experiences only present themselves to those who are able to have them."
-Paul Auster

And so begins, or so ends, my journeys.

I am back in Lhasa. I have, and am currently, struggling with how to let you see what I have witnessed, taste what I've consumed, walk the steps that I have stumbled, laugh at my amusement, understand my confusion, and just generally go there with me.

I think it is only appropriate for this epic to start where I finished and work backwards. There will be 7 episodes: Qinghai, Xian, Hong Kong, Kunming, Thailand, Vietnam, and my return. Feel free to enjoy at your leisure, or not at all.

But because I can't resist, here's a teaser: Some lists...
New foods I have eaten: Amdo bread, Thai iced tea, pig tail, crab stuffed with squid, blood sausage, mangosteens, candied rice, "special" (which in Vietnamese means "intestinal") pho, BaBaoCha, Tim Tams, Naxi sandwiches, Thai apples, stick tea, guava, banana roti.

Modes of transportation I've used: donkey, scooter, yak, junk, train, trolley, plane, metro, motorcycle, van, taxi's galore, songtow, and any number of cars.

Things I've seen strapped to the back of a scooter: 2 massive erns, 5 years worth of diapers, a small tree, a basket filled with styrofoam cartons, a minimum of 3 passangers, small children, a whiteboard, a bunch of roses, 2 window panes, a lumpy gray sack 3 times the width of the scooter, 6 cases of beer, enough towels to stock a high school football team's locker room.

Things I have come to love: fading horns, wooden frogs, watermelon shakes, foreign import stores, outdoor squatties and accompanying yaks, asian tourists wearing the rice hats, glass noodles, birds in hanging cages, interesting locals, Thai dentists.

Cities I've been to: Xining, Shenyang, Xian, Shenzhen, Hong Kong, Kunming, Lijiang, Chaing Mai, Hanoi, Halong Bay

Things I could live without ever experiencing again: "special" pho, idols being paraded through streets, agressive prostitues, 9 days without changing a single article of clothing, stinky creeks, Thai massages, blood sausage, seeing Unlce Ho, not being a witness to Danielle punting a rat in broad daylight, Bangkok airport tax.

Old firsts: The first place I saw a McDonalds and a Starbucks: Xian, the first place I saw black people and a church building: Hong Kong, the first place I saw a mosquito, woke up to forest sounds, and consistently got ice in my drinks: Chaing Mai

Buckle up folks... it was a wild ride.

Coming soon...

Just a quick update before I leave China and head off to Thailand in a few hours....

Animals ridden: 3

Cities visited: 8

Friends met: 24

I can't wait to show you the pictures, tell you the jokes, relate to you the shock and diversity of this amazing country... 

Maybe when I get to Thailand I'll have a chance... if not only a few more weeks till I'm back in Lhasa and you'll get the whole deal. The whole deal. So get ready... set aside a few days... I'm going to need that at least to debrief myself. 

LOVE

-Kelly