Home

I am home peeps. And it is good.

It is sun and blue skies and crisp, dry air.

It is hills and evergreen forests and the San Francisco Bay! And beaches like you wouldn't believe.

It is waking up every day in a stunning house in the hills, and getting a hug from one of my best friends.

It is hamburgers and french fries and quinoa and tap water and ice cream!

It is English, sweet English.

It is silence, blessed s i l e n c e. And it is slower. So much slower.

And it is dancing and music and fucking deliciousness! And cuddling and nibbling and a bit more than that.

It is some disappointment and lots to be grateful for.

And it is ex's, and that's a lot better. And it is dear friends I am loving reconnecting with and dear friends I have yet to, and people I've watched from afar who suddenly sparkle, or seem softer, or somehow more interesting.

And it is fucking expensive here!

And it is hikes and swimming, and even soccer leagues to come.

And it is stars. Constellations even! Bursting from a clear night sky.

Mostly it is a whole lot of doing very little, and doing it slowly.

I don't know what is next. I do know it feels good to be back!

Love Roni

Answers

When I was young I loved math. And I was a whiz.

I remember 3rd grade, when I'd pretend to take a lot longer to finish a math quiz than I needed, to avoid the shame I felt at always being the first kid - by far - to hand in his test.

In 6th grade I remember finding a solution to a math problem - a correct solution I bet - that the teacher just plain could not understand. All she could do was smile and nod.

Five years later, when my dad picked up after taking the SATs, he asked me how I did. I said, "I don't think I got any wrong on the math part." I didn't.

Math was always a breeze for me and I always loved it. I found beauty in the solutions and craved the challenge of getting there.

Maybe math also provided me with a sense of security in an insecure world. That's what the experts might say anyway.

Whatever the source of my passion, I thought my math mind might in some way underlie my life's work. I'd grow up to be an engineer perhaps. My dad always said with pride - knew really - that I would invent something one day.

Then I started reading books by people like Noam Chomsky and Howard Zinn and Karl Marx. Since a young age, I was involved in politics. But after reading these guys, I found a new sense of urgency in tackling world affairs.

So I majored in political science (and history), and spent much of my college years organizing for peace and social justice.

"I have invented something, Aba," I told my dad. "A new society."

I wanted so much for this new society, one based on peace and freedom and justice and sharing, to come to be. It made so much sense - and still does - just like the math problems I was always so good at solving.

Capitalism = war + repression + environmental destruction.
Socialism = sharing + prosperity.
Anarchism = freedom.
Therefor, socialism + anarchism = a good society.

Simple equations. In theory.

But not in practice. I learned that pretty quick trying to turn theories into practice.

In practice people often go against their own interests. In practice people fight even though it's bad for both parties. In practice, really, humans are not perfect and they are not simple. They are complicated, and societies just as complicated, if not more.

I started to see the world as less black and white, and more grey. Politics, I learned, is anything but a science.

My politics - and my activism - evolved along the way. I kept many of my principles, but opened up to new methods and endgames.

5 years later, it took the deepest heartbrake of my life for me to begin to realize - to face, actually - that what was true out in the world was also true in me.

That despite our best efforts, we cannot be perfect. That no matter how hard we try, no matter how much a relationship seems to make sense, sometimes it just doesn't work.

That's been a tough lesson for me to learn, and subsequent heartbrakes have taught me the same. For example, that though 2x may equal y, (Jewish + Sexy + Fun + Nature-loving + Accomplished) plus (Jewish + Sexy + Fun + Nature-loving + Accomplished) does not always equal babies. As hard as you try.

(I'm not shooting blanks. You catch my drift I hope).

Good answers, in black and white theory. But we are grey, so very many shades of grey.

Now this past year. For me, it's been so much about letting go of control and stepping into a world of unknowns.

Today, as I pondered why I am leaving Asia (and simply could not find an answer), it sunk in that much deeper what a challenge I have set for myself - for this math mind, honed like a bird of prey, to live in a world with few clear answers. Or where if there are answers, they can take a long time to come - and the route to getting there can be anything but logical or clear.

I love the math part of myself. Love it. But the logical part of me cannot figure out why I am leaving Asia right now most likely because the answers, if there are any, they are not yet formed, and they may not lie in the realm of logic. The answers may come later, or they may be here - so very here - but may lie in the realm of soul or spirit or feeling or fate or chance or some combination of factors far more complicated than any math problem any human being will every conceptualize, much less solve.

Ooh does that make me uncomfortable! At least the part of me that wants to figure things out and get to answers.

What I'm doing instead, it seems, is practicing living in the unknown. Feeling my may through the dark, with as much lightness as I can muster. That this practice might shake me out to a deeper core of security, freedom, joy and humanity that I simply cannot achieve by problem solving, no mater how good I am.

This realm is more about trying. It's about riding waves. It's about trust, and love, and intuition and what feels true.

I've tried the other way, the logic way. Boy it has served me well in so many ways. It really has.

But for me, at least, it's not a way to live, not if it's the basis for everything. It never has been the only way for me, but perhaps it's been the dominant way. That's a treading of water, and water at a rather low level at that.

But ooh this journey into the unknown is hard for me. It is hard!

And its answers are not pat. If only we could sit alone in the desert for 3 days and nights and come home fully initiated into a world of mystery. If only a journey of 70 days could bring us fully into the people we want to be.

These are marvelous experiences. They contribute to our growth, sometimes tremendously. But they are not the be all end all.

Part of me wants to come back home and say, "I found the answer! I tested myself, realized x and y, and now I can come home. The Hero's Journey is complete, and now it's time for the next stage!"

But I didn't. And I don't think it is.

Or maybe I did and it is, though I don't think so.

The closest I can come to an answer right now is, "Peeps, I had a good trip. There were ups and downs, and I'm really glad I went. I had some hard times, and some amazing experiences. Holy shit! But I'm pretty tired now. I miss my friends and my dancing and my sports and my food and my culture, and I'm out of fuel for this part of the adventure. And I don't want to explore without a zest for exploration. I don't want to keep going just for the sake of keeping going. So I'm coming home, even though I don't feel particularly drawn to come home and even though I'm unsure what it all means for me."

There you go. Pretty simple, and yet not all that clear, to me anyway. Or maybe it is pretty clear?

In any case I can feel the heat spread through my body as my critic and the part that wants order reel at such an answer. Recoil at the thought of it. Go back and keep editing that last paragraph, so that even if I am unsure, at least I've written a paragraph that perfectly summarizes my lack of certainty.

LOL. Oh this monkey mind. Oooh oooh aahh!

So maybe that's part of it: to act anyway from this place of unknown. To play around in this place without looking for answers. ("'To live the questions!' as Rilke says, Roni!, I can hear my chorus of healer/ee friends exclaim!")

So maybe that really is it. And maybe it's that the lessons of this journey will sink in over time. And that the journey is never over. And that this stage is probably not over either. And that I can continue to embrace a sense of adventure and trying and the unknown in my life, and keep wandering for some time, whether it's in Thailand or Fairfax, or Utah or France. And that, tomorrow, so much more might sink in.

In short, can it be grey and unclear and complicated? And can that be OK?

There's so much more to all this. Of course. But I'll leave my answer at that for now, grey as it is.

Much love from the Taiwan airport,
Roni

ps - Wow writing this helped so much. Thank you for this miracle of writing.

A Prayer for Thailand

As I looked at the Thais gazing with concern at a burning bus blocking an intersection today, I had a deju vu feeling, and my heart was filled with pain. I wanted to cry.

I thought of Cambodia and Saigon and Lebanon and all the beautiful places on this planet that have been wrecked by civil war. Where it starts with a bombing here and a bombing there on a sultry summer day, and before you know it the cafes close and people start dying and soon it spirals terribly out of control.

Thailand please do not go down this path, I thought. Your neighbors have done it. You do not want to end up like them. You have it good.

You are such beautiful people. You have such a beautiful culture. Don't let yourselves be destroyed. Whatever your conflicts, solve them peacefully.

I hope, I pray, for the beautiful people of this beautiful land that the current skirmishes do not lead to all out civil war. That if it gets much worse, government and opposition leaders will act with caution, and ordinary Thais by the millions will stand up and say, "No. No way. We will not let you destroy us."

If you feel moved to, join me in this prayer.

Love Roni

Battles in Bangkok

My last night here in Asia. Can you believe it? I hardly can.

Today was as fitting a day as ever to end it, a sort of Asia Redux featuring street food, meandering, interesting transportation options, fruit shakes, protests, government crackdowns, fires, a massive festival, cute girls, and very itchy, mosquito-bite ridden ankles. Plus of course the requisite pointing and laughing by the locals.

It was a very fun day, and a bit eerie as well, as play fighting and real fighting co-existed within blocks of one another.

You've probably heard about the protests that have spread across Bangkok, and the heavy-handed government response. I don't know which side is better, if one side is even better.

I woke up today to the news - emailed over by my sister - that government forces opened fire on protesters early this morning, injuring at least 70 people. Protesters were - and still are - occupying intersections, and supposedly threw fire bombs.

Despite my sister's warning, I left my guesthouse and took a packed river taxi down to Chinatown. If there's one place in any city where protests are least likely to happen, I think it's Chinatown.

I enjoyed some street food and a few good soaks, this being the first official day of the Thai New Year and related water-based revelry.

Unfortunately the government called off the major celebrations today because of the whole 'state of emergency tanks in the streets threat of civil war' thing. But in addition to pockets of water play on side streets and corners, Kho San Rd, where I lived it up last night, was packed.

I took a Tuk Tuk there, and half way we are suddenly heading toward a huge plume of black smoke. Oh shit! I'm like, "Let's not go there. Let's not go there!"

The driver follows the rest of the traffic and takes a detour. We get close again, and turns out its a bus protesters had set on fire. Whoa.

People are gathered around, staring calmly with looks of concern on their faces, like, "Oh no where are we headed?" And all the while some of them are carrying waterguns, and 100 yards away there is revelry.

I said a prayer and then went back to the playfighting.

No more super soaker 1500 for me today. I haggled in Chinatown and upgraded to the 2000 PSI model, the one's the German's recommended.

Those Na - Germans - were right. This thing is bad ass. It's huge, has great accuracy to 20 feet, holds a good amount of ammo, and, aimed correctly, it can take someone's eye out.

Oh my god was this fun. Thousands and thousands of people in the streets soaking the shit out of each other all day. Little kids, big kids - even older men and women.

People shoot you with water guns, fire at you with hoses, and douse the crap out of you with buckets. Sometimes the water is ice cold, and sometimes it catches you completely by surprise.

I made some headway in terms of the rules of engagement, but not much. Here's what I picked up:
* Don't shoot old people
* Do shoot cop cars
* Don't shoot at people when they're on their cell phones
* Mainly shoot below the head, unless the target has a big gun or is a Westerner
* Go easy on nerdy people who are dressed up
* When you join forces with cute girls, but be sure to shoot at them too, to maintain the whole masculine 'I can take you in a second thing if you wanted me to' vibe

After an hour of minor skirmishes, I found a little electronic music set up in the narrow street. I joined forces with some cute Czeck girls, and we battled some Italian guys, and ambushed any Westerner who dared cross our paths.

Then we joined forces with the Italian guys, and instead of heading over every 3 minutes for another water fill up, I paid a buck 20 for a trash barrel full. Sweet! We filled that puppy up a good 6 or 7 times.

It was fucking rad. Daytime is great cus' it's so hot it feels good to be drenched. By nightfall, that changed, and it was time for me to head home.

OK, so in summation, today was awesome, I am safe, and my ankles feel like they will explode from mosquito bites. What a perfect last day in Asia :-) :-(

Lots of love,
Roni

From the same cloth

About 6 months ago, when I was telling my therapist about the vision for this journey, I exclaimed emphatically, "I want to adventure and explore and test myself. I do NOT want to end of on a beach with some fucking Israelis!"

LOL. I just spent 5 days with 2 awesome Israelis on an amazing Thai beach, and it's exactly what I wanted.

Oren and Gabi are salt of the earth peeps, and they welcomed me in with vigor. We ate together, swam, lounged, kick it at night, played backgammon (big game in the Middle East)...

We even sang Passover songs together! Classic wandering Jews.

I loved hanging out with Oren and Gabi, loved the authenticity and vigor and love of life and generosity that has always epitomized this culture I identified with. Sharing food and time and money and hammocks for them is a no brainer. Humor rolls off the tongue. And they tell it like it is, or, at least, how they see it.

For so long I, like many Israelis, have judged and sometimes shunned other Israelis. And yes, the culture has traits I don't think are healthy, and out of balance, some can be annoying or worse.

But there is also so much beauty in the culture I come from, a passion and generosity and authenticity that to me feels like some of the best of what it means to be human. Like if you need food or a place to stay, there is never a question you will get it. Never.

I told Oren and Gabi when I left them today how much I enjoyed spending time with them. It felt good to be with people who are made of similar cloth as me.

I also told them they renewed my faith in Israelis, and really in certain parts of myself, those audacious, vibrant parts that sometimes get me into trouble but that are really a big part of who I am.

Much love,
Roni

ps - Check out this Seder plate I got our bungalow place to whip up. I tell you this was not easy on an isolated Thai beach. I don't think I'll soon forget the image of the head cook and three employees lined up listening to another employee try to explain that it was Passover and I needed certain foods on a plate. She explains. Blank stares. So she takes a step back and explains, "Christians...Muslims...Jews." Blank stares. Anyway somehow the plate came together, and it rocked. We used nori crackers for matza, and Oren even made charosset out of dates and cashews he brought from Jordan! So yum.

pps - Also Gabi is hot. Argentinian Jews...god damn.

Holy shit! The world's biggest water fight!

I land in Bangkok today, and what a scene. The roads are quite empty, as I've been told people don't drive much here Sundays.

Empty except for massive protests, and the tanks the government has called out, promising to use force if necessary. Oh boy.

More to the point of this post, it's Thai New Year: Songkram, a 3 day celebration featuring parties, food, and...water fights!

I'd heard of this and was excited to participate tomorrow. On a whim this eve I thought, sure it's dead out and I'm tired, but why not take a Tuk Tuk to Kho San Rd, a very bustling part of Bangkok with lots of restaurants and guesthouses.

Oh my god. It was a madhouse!

Thousands and thousands of people, overwhelmingly Thai, dousing each other and rubbing clay on each other's cheeks and dancing in the streets. You could spot the Westerners from a mile a way, because they are a foot taller and had the biggest grin on their faces as they carried around giant super soakers.

Within 10 minutes I was drenched. Within 20 I purchased a small water gun and began to fire away.

30 minutes into it I come across two topless young German men with red bandanas on their heads, dripping wet carrying large water guns.

Germans: (full on accent) Hey, what is with zee small gun?
Me: Yeah, good point. What do you have? (Fucking Nazis)
Germans: We have super soaker 2000. Zee best. AAAA!
Me: Awesome! (Fucking Nazis)

And then something clicks. I'm like, 'Yes I will join these Germans and we will kick the shit out of these Thais - Israelis and Germans together, for the good of the world!'

I buy a super soaker 1500, tie on the red bandana I carry everywhere with me, practically tear off my shirt, and roar, much to the glee of the Naz - I mean, Germans!

Well it isn't long before we are split up. But now I am feeling all sorts of bad ass with this huge gun, dousing and getting doused just as bad. And it's night, in Bangkok, and everyone is doing it, and I'm like, 'Is this really happening?'

Yes, it is. And I get another day of it tomorrow!

Love Roni

God that was/this is hard

Look I should have greater calamities in life than having to leave tropical paradise.

But it was still hard to leave Ton Sai beach today. Especially as two bombshell Italian stewardesses clad in revealing bikinis and sunbathing on my favorite little beachside bamboo platform on the planet were imploring me to stay, in their luscious accents. Yeah that was really hard.

But alas, here I am, in the Krabi, Thailand airport, about to board a plane to Bangkok. And in less than 48 hours, I'll be on a plane back home.

Home. Wow. It's been 2 and a half months.

I looked at myself in the mirror today in the airport bathroom and thought, "Who is this brown man with the shaved head in the tank top and thai shorts? He looks sort of Latino..."

All sorts of stuff is coming up around heading home. I've wavered between wanting to be on the first plane back to tap water, jeans and friends to wanting to stay a few lifetimes, and mainly the past few days to wanting to stay at least a few more days. Then there's the whole identity stuff, what will I do when I get home, can I still dance/remember how to cook, and will everyone still love me or be really mad that the shit I sold them fell to piece within a few days?

For the most part, my time on Ton Sai and surrounding beaches and teenee islands was wonderful. Sleeping in a bamboo bunaglow in the jungle near the beach. Swimming in warm water surrounded by towering jungle-clad limestone cliffs. Lounging for hours on pillows and platforms, talking and gazing at the moon and gazing at Italians and hanging out with awesome people and speaking Hebrew and French and even playing backgammon.

God it was so relaxing here. And yet I couldn't stop my mind from going into overdrive around my departure and when it should happen and how and why it all means and all that.

I don't know why all the angst, but I sure did feel it. But the fates have made it all a bit easier, deciding for me by putting me on the only flight out of here with available seats for the forseeable future.

Leaving. It can be hard for me. That's probably what's up. I'll do it the best I can. I bet pretty soon after being back in the States it won't even be much of an issue, if one at all.

I'll write more about this I'm sure. For now, I have two nights in Bangkok ahead of me, and one full day, at the perfect time to be there: Songkran, the Thai New Year, which I understand basically involves everyone in the streetsm partying and dumping copious amounts of water on everyone else. I don't see how this couldn't be fun.

The next two days will also give me some time to stay goodbye to this place, and sort out some more what it all has meant.

Much love to you all from Krabi Thailand. Of course one of the best parts of coming home is getting to see so many of you. Awwwww :-)

Love Roni

Ton Sai Beach, Krabi, Thailand

Hellloooo everyone. I've been on the internet for what feels like too long (an hour), so I'll keep it brief.

I'm on a little slice of heaven here on this planet: Ton Sai beach, in Krabi province, Thailand, Andaman Coast.

The beach is small, surrounded by stunning limestone cliffs clad in dense green jungle. I'm sleeping in a bamboo bungalow set back about 100 yards from the beach for $8.50 a night.

The vibe is very relaxed here and also pleasantly social. Small, very chill bars line the beach, with their bamboo platforms and cushions and slack lines. I instantly made friends with an SF transplant from Connecticut and 2 Israelis. My peeps. And the full moon has been, of course, stunning, as have the periodic down pours, and lightning displays.

The only drawback thus far has been that no one seems to know how to cook around here. Also I very mildly strained my shoulder playing tennis in Vietnam, so I can't participate in any of the sick, sick rock climbing in these parts. Plus last night I spent the better part of 20 minutes hocking up a piece of parsley that decided to lodge itself in my throat. My did that suck.

Other than these minor distractions, I am well, and often relaxing very deeply. What's most on my mind is my return home. I'm currently booked on one of the few flights my open ticket would allow: next Tuesday April 14! Wow.

The prospect of returning is bringing up a lot, so much so that at times it feels overwhelming. A few things about it are freaking me out. And part of me is also excited of course.

More to come on that most likely. For now, I send you warm crystal water and tropical breezes from Ton Sai.

Love Roni

ps - How fucking cool is this? It's a boat snack bar at the beach!

Whoa Bangkok You Rich Chocolate Cake You

It's been quite the day. After my pre-dawn wake up and morning temple tour (see previous post), I hopped a propelor (help me with the spelling on that one, will ya?) plane to Bangkok, split a cab with some Jersey kids, and bam - traffic city!

There was a huge festival in town today, and the roads were super clogged. After finally reaching my (awesome) guesthouse, I went for a stroll that turned into a 3-hour charicture of my time in Asia.

I felt a bit like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day meets Jim Carey in the Truman Show.
Like, "Hmmm, is this really familiar dealio for real?!"

Thousands and thousands of people were in the streets. I was the only white person besides one couple I saw for 10 seconds.

It was extraordinarily loud. I think us Westerners somehow eveolved more sensitive ears, or some shit.

Anyway, I experienced:
* so much street food, of course
* bumper cars - so fun to bash the little Thai kids! They liked bashing me too.
* EVERYTHING for sale and people blaring into megaphones to sell it
* lots and lots of raffles
* I don't know maybe 200,000 people?!

A welcome change - I did not experience:
* being hassled
* people pointing at me and laughing
* searing stomach pains

Folks there's so much more to it, but I'm at my limit.

Love you,
Roni

ps - OK, a little more. Once I hit my limit at the fest, getting home was virtually impossible. I got pretty lost and with lots of roads closed, it was a real challenge getting home. It all felt quite surreal in its intensity, and just as I thought, "Shit, I might just curl up here on this sidewalk and go to sleep," I came across a huge Thai political rally, featuring those red-shirted peeps I protested with 2 months ago clapping elatedly to a stocky man giving an impassioned speach. Full circle in a really strange, "Is this happening?" sort of way.

Walking a Dream

I had the incredible opportunity today to live out a dream.

I woke at 4:30am, and by 5 in the morning was zooming through the Cambodian countryside on the back of my driver Raba's motorbike. It was quite dark, the clouds lit up by lightning as thunder rumbeled in the distance and rain pelted our faces. Oooh!

I knew just where I wanted to go to experience dawn at Angkor: not Angkor Wat, where most people go, but to Ta Phrom, the temple I described after my first day, where nature and ancient ruins are intertwined in a stunning, erie, powerful display.

I arrive a bit later than I want to (forgot my entrance card and had to zip back to the hotel, only not to find it and have to buy a new one), and slip through the massive stone entry way and down the jungle path. The rain had stopped, but thunder continuined to rumble in the distance as flashes of lightning periodically lit up the sky.

Oooh. I am walking my dream. The dream I told you about a few days ago, one I had in Vietnam 3 weeks ago, where I am walking through my hometown, and all the buildings suddenly turn an erie color and are eventually overtaken by green - by plants!

So here I am. Alone, meandering purposefully through an ancient temple built almost 1,000 years ago, as first light is breaking, thunder clasps and lightning flashes. Wow.

I scramble up a pile of stones. I sit atop a massive archeway and peer out at the stunning ruins as they grow increasingly brighter in the growing morning light. It is a powerful experience.

Pictures can't do it justice, because pictures can't do that place justice, certainly not so early in the morning. And of course you can't photograph a dream.

Questions remain about the dream and about this day. In any case, I'm glad I went. What a way to end my foray into this stunning place!

Much love,
Roni

I'm about to board a plan to Bangkok. Ah, Thailand! It brings a smile to my face. As I see it, Cambodia was me rounding third base - and my last 2 weeks in Thailand will be a gentle, I hope, trot home! I'll be sure to keep keepin' ya posted. Wish me a sweet, relaxing, beautiful time on the beach.

The Oldest of the Old

Today I visited the remains of 3 Angkor temples that are part of the so called Roulous group.

Evidently they were discovered by the eminent French archeologist Jacques Roulous, who later, strangely enough, went on to found the Mentos corporation. Weird.

In any case, here are a couple of pics. These were some of the earlier Angkor remples.

I called it a day early, and spent the rest of my afternoon emailing, hissy-fitting, eating, and kicking it poolside with a few gay guys over at my hotel, the Golden Banana. Pics to come - what a time we had!

Love Roni

Ominous Signs in Asia

Hey peeps. Glad I grabbed your attention with this profound-seeming title.

I'm not talking about messages from beyond though. I'm talking about messages from local governments and businesses here in Asia - and sometimes, oh my are they strange.

When I return, I will compile and release, "Next Time Ask An American: The 10 Most Fucked Up Signs I Saw in Asia."

There have been some funny ones for sure. Here's a teaser.

Love,
Roni



ps - A word about this sign, and the service it advertises. At first I was like, "Dude that is fucked up. No way am I doing that. Weird!" But then I saw another sign, and another, and it turns out there are at least three places in downtown Siem Reap, Cambodia that offer fish massages. I came across a communal tub in a little square and lots of Westerners were actually doing it - and having a hoot! After 2 minutes of debate, I decided, "What the fuck. You only live once, and this will be the most action I've gotten in 2 months. Minus the guy who groped me at the beach in Vietnam (no shit)." So I did it, and it was actually...kind of fun. Little fish teem around and nibble on your feet, just like the sign says. Now unlike what the sign says, it certainly does not qualify as a massage. But it was enjoyable nonetheless, in that peculiar only-in-Asia way.

Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom

Wowsies, my third full day of temple exploration, and I am still stoked, though quite beat! I know I have it better than the vast majority of Cambodians, but it really is hard work walking and climbing all day in 100 degrees heat.

Not that I'm complaining! Today I visited the big one - Angkor Wat - as well as another biggie - Angkor Thom - and they were awesome.

Angkor Wat is really amazing: the largest religious structure on earth. At least that's what my guide book says, the one I paid $5 to a little Cambodian kid for, only later realizing they are bootleg copies. Who cares.

Anyway Angkor Wat is, not surprisingly, the most touristed, because it's the biggest and draws the tour bus crowd like crazy. Thankfully, I spent 4 hours there, and the last 2 were blissful - almost everyone leaves for lunch around noon, so I had this massive complex mostly to myself. See the last 3 pics.

I spent lots of time wandering the complex, and some time deciphering (with the help of the guidebook) the incredible inscriptions that cover more than a quarter mile of wall space. Carved into stone is much of Hindu mythology! Actually the whole complex is supposed to represent the world according to Hindu cosmology. Incredible.

After Angkor Wat, we sped a few minutes north to Angkor Thom, an ancient city with lots of temples, roads, walls, and jungle. Fascinating. First two pics, as well as the two of Bayon from yesterday.

As I've said, it feels so wonderful to scamper around on these structures, especially knowing they were built a millennium ago!

More to come,
Love Roni

Angkor Sucks!

Not! April fools. Sucker.

Angkor continues to amaze me. I visited 4 temples today, from 9:30am to 6:30pm. We covered 60 miles through the Cambodian countryside on a motorbike.

The first temple was wonderful. The next was just tiny ruins, buried in stream beds and carved into massive boulders one mile into the jungle. Very cool.

Then the last two - oh my. Bantrey Srei is the most ornate of all the temples - incredible detail, carved into stone 1,000 years ago! And Banteay Samre - I think that's been my favorite. Almost no one there, and a very powerful, still presence.

So amazing to be able to visit these places - and view spectacular sunsets from the tops of temples every night!

Love Roni

Here are 8 pics, 2 each of the following temples, in this order:
1. Banteay Srei (most ornate)
2. Jungle temple I can't remember the name of (mysterious)
3. Pre Rup (came here first thing in the morning, and then again for sunset)
4. Banteay Samre (wow)

ps - That pic of the buddha is a self-portrait. For real. Not too shabby!

Wat the FUCK???

I knew the temples of Angkor would be stunning, and still it's a whole different deal to walk among them.

Oh my God. I barely scratched the surface today, visiting 5 of maybe 100 sites, and it was borderline surreal.

2 weeks ago I had a very powerful dream (dude, Krouzman, what do you eat mushrooms now before you go to bed or something?) that the jungle was taking over buildings, and that's what I saw today: the spectacular, massive, ornate, masterfully constructed remnants of a 1,000-year old civilization, all amidst thick jungle - and sometimes, left, purposely, to intertwine with the jungle.


Here are three pics of many. They hardly do such a mind-blowing place justice.

My videos will do it some justice though! Coming soon to a screen near you: "Angkors! The Khmers Strike Back!" And you know just what the sound track will be.

Much love,
Roni

ps - every evening, I get to return to the "Golden Banana," a gay-owned and operated (get the name now?!) tropical hotel/guesthouse that seems almost as lavishly unreal as the temples. At $20 a night, I generally need to ask a fellow guest to pinch me as I sip my lime ice tea at poolside, just to make sure it's really happening. The men have been more than happy to oblige!

pps - Just kidding. I am not gay.

ppps - Lots of Brits traveling around South East Asia, like the 2 girls in the internet lab right now. Sometimes their accent can be so endearing, and sometimes I just want to shake them and shout, "Spit out the beef jerky and speak like a normal person for God's sake!"

Leaving Vietnam - and there's my Dad

As I sat in the park now, soaking up my last hour of Vietnam and watching some middle aged men play soccer, I thought of my father. I thought of how if he were here, he would have jumped right into that game with the glee and confidence of a 5 year old. He would have kicked ass, and the Vietnamese would have loved him!

I realized sitting there that Vietnam is in many ways a personification of my father, and of my relationship to him: often rough, crass and serious on the outside, yet so gentle, playful and generous...if you give him some time. Or approach him in the right way.

And this to me was Vietnam: at times infuriating, a place where I felt I had to have my guard up - just like with my dad - and yet also so rich, and warm, and wonderful - just like my dad.

My father died suddenly 8 and a half years ago. I still miss him, and I always will, as the tears welling up in my eyes confess.

In the park, it sunk just a bit deeper that my war with him - like the war that ravaged Vietnam - is over. And I realized - remembered? - as well that my father is here with me.

He is in every man who has negotiated so shrewdly and then drove me somewhere on his motorbike with such enthusiasm, and even love. He is in every Vietnamese person who has stared out at the street as if suffering, but then returned the biggest smile when looked at for more than 3 seconds. He is in the grit of this place and the beauty. He is in the incessant noise and the enlivening bustle.

And of course, he is in me. And though he wounded me in some big ways, he also gave me so much.

It's because of him that I can learn a city in 2 days. It's he who taught me how to bargain and find the best deals.

It's his spirit that emboldens me to join soccer games with people so different than me. To give travel advice with such joy. To love the history of this place.

It's by his example I learned to look a cripple in the eyes, or to visit a war museum, and to not look away in disgust but instead to feel the suffering of others with compassion.

I believe it's my father who in large part gave me my love of life. Perhaps it's even his strength and spirit that help keep me safe.

So Aba, thank you. You gave me so much and I love you always.

And Vietnam, thank you! Thank you for being so alive, for welcoming me, for the smiles and the food and your vibrant, rich nature. I'm so glad I gave you a chance.

I feel drawn to return one day. In any case, we're friends now, and I'll miss you.

Much love,
Roni

Cholon: Saigon's Chinatown

Two days ago, I hopped on the back of a motorbike and cruised 4 miles through Saigon's busy streets to Cholon, Saigon's China Town. It's a rather large, and as you'd expect, bustling area, full of markets and people and small shops peddling everything from lanterns and woks to locs, copper tubing, paint, fabric - you name it and you can find it there. I loved wandering the streets and alleys and not seeing any white people for long stretches of time. Just getting absorbed into the place, and yet somehow being totally anonymous. I enjoyed some great local food, as well as a milk tea and tapioca ball drink, which I was introduced to back in Berkeley maybe five years ago. Yum! And what I found amazing about Cholon is that amidst the bustle live beautiful old Pagodas. You walk in and suddenly find yourself in a different world, of stillness, beauty, shrines, prayer, incense and chirping birds. What a wonderful adventure!

I Score in Saigon!

OK mom, please do not read this post. It is WAY racey.

So I scored in Saigon, multiple times!

Goals. Soccer goals!

Oh I can hear the chorus of groans. I'm sorry, I had to.

So sports in Vietnam. Like the Thai's they share this stunning peninsula with, the Vietnamese seem into their sports. And every evening I've been joining in the fun.

100 feet away from my sweet little hotel is a park, and in that park every early evening local guys play soccer. 5 days ago I sat and watched, and was quickly invited in to play.

It's been super fun. Like every country except the US, soccer is a big passion here, and most guys can play well.

It's been a great way to get some exercise. And to connect with Vietnamese people.

Soccer is so the glue that holds humanity together. One day if I'm ever kidnapped in Afghanistan or the Sudan or something (mom, stop reading!), I think the difference between a long imprisonment (with eventual release) and a quick summary execution will be my ability to play soccer with the guards. You know, they'll sort of kick over a tray of gruel, and despite my weakened state, I'll kind of flip the tray up in the air with my foot and catch the bowl and kind of make a little head fake move, like, "Let's play, guard! Yeah, I'm American, and yeah, I play soccer. I'm just like you!" And then the guard will be caught off guard, so to speak, and smile, and then realize, "Shit, I can't give up this guard front with the American." And then he'll clutch his AK-47 and frown again. But the gig will be up by then.

Failing that, it could also be help from my friend Todd, who works in intelligence, who saves me. (No one tell!).

I will close by summarizing some differences between how Americans play sports and how the Vietnamese do. So, thanks for reading, ladies. Guys, here it is:

Now except for 'Hello', 'Boom Boom' and 'Thank you,' I don't speak Vietnamese. But as far as I can tell, there is no trash talking whatsoever on the field. None. And there is never anger. If someone makes a clumsy move, often he will giggle like a school girl, as will his friends. For 3 seconds. And then they move on. Also they are super welcoming on the field, like anyone can join in. And there's such a natural flow to it all - to games starting and ending and new teams joining in.

It's fucking great. We have a few things to learn. OK I have a few things to learn.

Oh and when the game is over, it happens so abruptly. They disappear, like Charlie in the jungle. I'm left standing there with my M-16, fucking stunned that - wait, sorry that was a flashback.

In any case, it's been super fun to play and score goals and make assists and smile and give high fives. It's also inspiring me to join a league when I get back to the US.

Alright peeps, soon to bed,
much love to you,
Roni

ps - Talk about scoring, last night yet another prostitute offered me her services. I look at her and say, "How old are you?" She's like, "20". I'm like, "Yeah, sure. You're 16 sweetie." She sort of rolls her eyes. Otherwise I would have been all over that shit.

Mom!

Things I've Seen on Bikes

Here is an abbreviated list of things I've seen strapped to the back of motorbikes (most under 125ccs - pretty much a lawnmower with a padded seat) in Vietnam, as well as 2 and 3-wheeled bicycles:
* Dried squid for sale
* Giant boxes
* Massive rolls of fabric
* Huge bags of rice
* Large jugs of water
* Hundreds of CDs for sale (always at night, with music playing)
* 3 humans (in addition to the driver) (unstrapped)
* Drug dealers, pimps and prostitutes (also unstrapped)
* Massive baskets of fruit for sale
* Bundles of sugar cane
* I swear to God, as this picture attests, a really big refrigerator
* A fucking cow (this a friend saw - he swore, no shit)

Feel free to chime in with anything you may have seen. Kitchen sink perhaps?

Tennis, Swimming, Soccer and an Outrageous Dinner in Saigon

Day two, and I am loving this place just as much, if not more. It's so much more modern and cosmopolitan than I imagined.

After breakfast and my morning stretching/exercise routine, I found a local KFC, bought a picture of Ho Chi Mihn, and interviewed local people, as well as a grumpy tourist, about the uncanny resemblance between Uncle Ho and the Colonel, and if that might explain why KFC is the only Western fast food chain in Vietnam. I got some great footage - of kids feeding me, of a cop sort of chasing me, of the manager denying everything... LOL.

After my little film shoot, I went back to the local tennis club I found yesterday, and paid the pro (who I was better than, and also about a foot taller than) 9 bucks to hit with me for an hour. The heat and humidity killed me, but it was super fun to play tennis for the first time in 3 months - though it didn't hold a candle to my tennis buds back home Onno and Jamie! Yeah, you know.

I befriend the 70 year old guy who runs the show there. We talk for a while, and he tells me about how he used to teach Thai Chi to US Military Policemen! He's super nice, and helps me get in the adjacent pool. It costs 80 cents, plus 20 cents for the swimsuit I was forces to rent. Gross! I'm certainly the only white guy there. I buy my Vietnamese friend an ice coffee and me steak and fries, and swim some.

I hop a motorbike home, and the guy drives like a Mario Andretti on crack - for real - and I fucking love it. Twice he hopped the curb to take a short cut - on the sidewalk! All you can do is enjoy it.

After my fourth shower of the day, I head to a nearby park, and some local guys invite me to join their soccer game, which was super, super fun. I scored two goals and had some nice assists - in flip flops! Go Krouzman.

This required shower number 5, then a walk back to aerobics square, and an amazing, amazing dinner with my German friends. We sat outside around a low wooden table amidst tropical plants and surrounding a beautiful colonial building. The place was packed with locals and a good amount of tourists too. We ordered 10 dishes and shared them. Amazing spring rolls, grilled squid, 2 soups, rice pancakes with shrimp, chicken...and oh god the dessert! It looked like testicles in cream sauce, but tasted much better. ;-)

Then we walked a ton through this awesome city, and got pedaled home in 3 Cyclos (a guy rides a bike and you sit in a sort of chariot in front of him). These guys were so sweet, and gave us a little tour, pointing out cool things like the old hotels, and the former US embassy in Saigon, a very important piece of military history. And the best thing is, they didn't really try to rip us off!

And now, my friends, it is off to bed. My body is beat - perhaps a massage tomorrow? I may also go dance at night. And maybe, just maybe, strike up a conversation with one of these Saigonese beauties. I'll be sure to keep you posted.

Much love,
Roni

15 Hours in Sultry Saigon

I arrived in Saigon yesterday morning at 10am, and I am so glad I'm here. Right away I felt a sense of warmth, activity and openness that I hadn't felt in any other Vietnamese urban area. Saigon feels a lot to me like New York in summer time, which I love.

That feeling has proven to be true. I really like this place a lot.

My first day was great! I hung out with sweet fellow travelers, walked the awesome streets and alleys, jammed with some local kids and old people, and even got to spend some time with a former Colonel in the North Vietnamese Army!

It pretty much started good right away. After sharing a cab with two Israeli-Americans, Ben and Ricky, I get turned away from one hotel (good - got a bad vibe there anyway) and find a sweet place down a relatively quiet (for Vietnam, anyway! OK as I right this some major drilling activity starts. Vietnam is NEVER quiet, not where people live anyway) little alley in the center of the action.

I go for a stroll, bump into Ben, and we sit down for some Pho - the traditional Vietnamese noodle soup, which I love! Ben and I shoot a few "Vietnam's Fledgling Tourism Industry Safety Videos" (I've shot a dozen now), including one about the ridiculously dangerous bundles of electric wires that seem to hang over you at all times in Saigon, and why this is actually a good thing.

We keep walking and I come across a stunning woman in a sundress. Oh my. I'm like, I have to talk to her. So I circle back. And she circles back. Hmmm...

I launch into some witty little comment relating to the video I just shot, and without missing a beat she responds with an equal measure of whit. The Brits are great like that.

Then she asks me my name and says, "Got time for a drink?"

"Uh, yes. Yes I do." Even though I don't really drink and it's like 1pm.

In any case me and Ben and sundress girl skip the drink and go for a walk. We come across a high school gym class getting tested on their badminton skills. It's just as pointless as the gym class you remember, except it was badminton instead of pull ups (which I fucking sucked at. Got to retake that test now! Oh Krouzman...).

In any case, I hop in and say, "Can I try?!"

They're stoked! I'm about to hit the little shuttlecock (LOL) when the main Frau Farbisana gym teacher with the red whistle comes over and waves me off :-( Former Viet Cong for sure. Well she would have had to have been 2 years old, but you get the point. I think. OK so not everyone in Saigon is warm.

But many people are! We keep strolling. I lose the girl. I'm pissed. Ah fuck it. Ben and I sit on normal sized people chairs (wow!) and drink cokes from a bottle (with a straw, as they are all rusty here - hmmmm...) as we watch the world go by.

Then it's peace out Ben, and I go to a park, and...my god...these people are from San Francisco or New York! I mean they're not. But they might as well be.

An old man who looks like Ho Chi Mihn / Colonel Sanders is playing the Mandolin, another is playing violin and guitar, and lots of young people are gathered round watching and singing.

As soon as Ho see me, he says, "Hello! Where are you from?!" That's the standard greeting to Westerners here, whether you really want to get to know them, just practice some English, or harass them to buy something.

I take the chance and head over and we talk and he's great. But right away he stops playing the Vietnamese music he was playing (and people were diggin'), and asks me if I want to sing a song. Uh, OK! A bit embarrassed I hobble over and sit.

And then he starts to play the Star Spangled Banner, and makes me sing with him, and I do, and it's quite embarrassing and strange and also fun! Then we keep jammin' and everyone's great, talking to me (when they can) and singing Vietnamese songs.

After that, I stroll Saigon some more, and I love it. Millions of people on motorbikes, like swarms, in a very modern, open, warm city.

I hop on the back of a motorbike and get off at a square at a tip of a park, just near a major traffic circle (sort of like Central Park meets Columbus Circle). People are everywhere, including a few dozen doing...aerobics! It was so fun in Thailand, and I couldn't resist, so I joined in, much to the delight of the Vietnamese onlookers!

After 10 minutes on the humid heat, I took a seat next to an old Vietnamese man. He turns to me, and in French, he asks me if I speak French. Yes, I say, and we speak in French for a good 30 minutes.

What a sweet, gentle man. Turns out he was in the North Vietnamese army for 30 years, fighting both the French and the Americans. He was a colonel of an anti-aircraft unit he said shot down 90 US planes. Wow - a walking piece of history.

He gave me his number and his address and invited me to come by sometime to talk some more. The few people who speak French in Vietnam are generally older people, and they seem to love to practice.

Later on I sat on a street side tiny little eatery / beer place. Just little plastic chairs and tables on the sidewalk, basically, in a busy part of town. I order a beer (!) and nurse it in the balmy night, eating peanuts and a delicious plate of beef and noodles. I strike up a conversation with the 4 French guys to my left. They were great, and I love speaking French! It's actually improved a ton since I arrive in this part of the world, as there are many French travelers.

Then back to my guest house, and out for a drink and dessert with Ben and Ricky. We sit next to a young German couple, and hit it off right away. That, and the bar is playing basically all our favorite songs from the late 80s and early 90s, including Guns and Roses. The German girl and I were singin' - and laughin' - it up!

A fun night, and great way to end my first long, rich day in Saigon!

Love,
Roni

ps - the women here are stunning. Just stunning.

Hoi An, Vietnam

Constant harrassment and tourist kitch aside, I find Hoi An, Vietnam to be quite stunning.

Hoi An is located on Vietnam's central coast, at the confluence of two rivers I think, 3 miles from the Pacific Ocean. Spared from the war in large part, the city retains an old-world charm I'm not sure you can find anywhere else in Vietnam.

Narrow winding alleys. Small shops. River boats. Pagodas. Artisan workshops.

Yes, it's geared in large part to tourists, but hey, god job peeps! It's really beautiful here.

Peeps, I'm Tired & I need a Vacation

Yes it's true. It's hitting me.

Part of it is being on the road for so long. It takes its toll.

I'm constantly on the move. I've cooked one meal in 6 and a half weeks. I barely do sports. There is no such thing as quiet. There are no close friends. I don't even have a room for more than a few days. And then there's the tummy stuff.

There are certainly huge benefits to most of this growth-wise. But it is also taking its toll.

Also I must say Vietnam is beginning to drive me fucking insane. It is like Israel on crack. It makes Israel seem like a Montessori pre-school.

I mean I love this place, and I am so eager to explore it, but I have never, ever, in my life even come close to seeing this level of shameless chutzpa. The way many Vietnamese incessantly harrass tourists, and pull every trick in the book to scam them, is sad and very, very annoying to me.

I'm trying to let it go. Maybe I'll be able too, because again there is so much here and so much more I want to see. But one literally cannot walk down the street more than 20 feet without being harassed to buy something, hop on a motorbike, eat at a restaurant.

This sucks. They smile and say, "Hello!" and then do the sell. Or worse, "Where are you from?"

Fuck people don't sell your souls and your beautiful smiles for a buck. Please don't.

And they just don't stop. They physically block you with their bodies. Block you. Try to anyway.

I've figured out a way to get by with them just asking once, rather than the standard 3 - 5 times, but it requires being a dick. And I don't want to be a dick! Especially not on my vacation.

Plus there is the nonstop noise of Vietnam. Constant honking, clanging...whatever noise you can imagine.

Look I'm not trying to be negative here. Just honest.

I know there is a lot more to Vietnam. I know there's cultural stuff and my stuff and all that. I know I'm priviledged to be here.

And still, despite my efforts, this is taking a toll.

In an effort to get some R&R, today I checked myself into a nice hotel with a sweet room with a veranda, and a pool, and got at least some quiet and poolside chill time. Check it!

It's funny I feel like I need a vacation from my vacation.

Maybe I need to find a nice beach and just sit there for a few days. Or a woman. Actually both. Yes that would probably help.

It's an interesting place to be in. I don't want to come home yet. There's so much more I want to see and do here in Asia. At least right now, though, I feel like I may be running out of steam. Oh but the islands of Thailand! Them I must see. At least one.

Alright peeps,
much love,
Roni

ps - In addition to bitching, today I also strolled through the amazing city of Hoi An, made friends with a funny 6 year old from Australia, and ate a delicious dinner of shrimp dumplings, fish stew, eggplant with prawns, and white rice. So yum! Plus the pool felt goooood.

Hue, Vietnam: Royal Grounds, War, and Young People

I just spent a day and a half exploring the city of Hue (prounounced, 'Hway'), in Vietnam. It was the seat of the old royal court back in the day.

The centerpiece is the royal compound, an area around 1.5 miles by 1.5 miles, surrounded by a large wall and, in royal fashion, a moat. There's a large citadel, which now flies the Vietnamese flag, and inside the wall, many beautiful buildings and gardens. Really nice.

To various degrees, it's almost all been reconstructed, because it turns out Hue was the scene of intense fighting during the US-Vietnam war. The further south I travel in this country, the more I reach cities that were major flashpoints.

As someone who has always loved history, and is especially interested in this war, it's quite fascinating. Tanks filled the streets. North Vietnamese troops were actually hunkered down inside the walls of the royal compound. Then, US troops. And then, as the tide turned, North Vietnamese troops once again.

My second night in town, I had dinner at the Mandarin Cafe, which is owned by an amatuer photographer, Mr. Cu, who served as a firefighter for the US military in the early 1970s. At his restaurant, he showed me a book featuring photographs - including 3 of battles in Hue - taken by journalists who died covering the war. It was very moving. Crazy, terrible, captivating photos.

The more I've been reading about the war, and the more I've been talking to people about it, the more complex - and surprising - it seems to me.

I came here not really doubting that the vast majority of Vietnamese supported the liberation movement. I'm not sure, but from what I'm reading and seeing it seems that most people were simply stuck in the middle - as civilians always are - and just wanted to stay alive.

Many Vietnamese who aided the Viet Cong (the Communist guerilla movement that worked in tandem with the North Vienamese military) did so it seems more out of fear of reprisal than out of support for the communist cause. And many Vietnamese supported the US-backed Saigon regime.

Of course, the reverse is true as well. Many Vietnamese supported the liberation movement, and many aided the US out of fear. Or, in Mr. Cu's case, for money.

I'm reading about Cambodia as well - the war engulfed that country, as well as Laos. And the same seems to be true: civilians caught between brutal forces, civilians who just wanted to go on with their lives.

This isn't to say one side is not preferable to the other. And of course I don't believe US involvement in Vietnam was just or sensible.

But I am getting a fuller picture, I think. And what a place to do it. 40 years ago, those manicured lawns I walked in Hue were full of rubble, trenches, fox holes, troops and artillery. Now the citadel flies the Vietnamese Communist flag. Crazy.

Love Roni

ps - This morning I woke up pretty early, rented a bicycle, and rode around the less touristy part of Hue. I wandered through markets and narrow alleys, and past rice paddies, local houses and eateries.

At one point I heard lots of cheering and thought, "I need to go in there!" There turned out to be Hue University, and the students were hosting a tug of war. They were SO excited.

A group of them came up to me, did the customary giggle & sweet smile thing, and then invited me into their 'club', a room where we sat and talked for a while. They were interested in my impressions of Vietnam. I was interested in their perspectives on US-Vietnam relations (given our history) and on Vietnam's development.

Like every Vietnamese person I've talked too, they all seem to like America and want to build a peaceful future, not talk about a terrible past. They also strongly support Vietnam's industrial development, and yet, to my surprise, felt strongly that Vietnam must protect its environment while doing so.

There may be more lurking beneath the surface here, but so far I've witnessed a widespread uniformity of opinion amongst the Vietnamese. That's all for now from anthropologist Krouzman.

6 Weeks In: A Hero's Journey?

It's been a month and a half since I arrived somewhat dazed, a bit scared and quite excited in Bangkok. Wow how time has flown by.

6 weeks later, I'm in Hanoi, Vietnam, about to travel by plane to Hue, a city on Vietnam's north central coast. I certainly had NO idea I'd go there, much less much sense I'd make it to Vietnam.

But here I am! And it's been quite a trip here in South East Asia.

Being exposed to the exotic (for me) and a beautiful new aesthetic. Devouring the street life, and the street food! Meandering through alleys and markets. Learning new languages, and settling for lots of non-verbal communication! Exploring waterfalls and caves and temples I didn't even imagine could exist.

Riding elephants. Riding motorbikes. Riding boats and tuk tuks and bicycles and planes and trains, and buses driven by maniacs with a death wish!

Collapsing twice in a restaurant and being taken by ambulance over windy mountain roads at midnight with only myself to take care of me, and perhaps the unseen. Clenching my teeth and thinking, "The flourescent light above you will NOT be the last thing you see." A mixture of tenacity and a deep knowledge that I am held. And then needles and IVs and heart monitors and tests and sweet Thai doctors and even sweeter Thai nurses. And recovering slowly on rice, miso soup, phone calls home and al-Jazeera.

People trying to cheat me every which way in Hanoi. My scam radar system and ability to bargain, installed at birth in every Israeli, have served me well. And though I know it's not personal, there is still something heartbreaking about a woman serving you soup (chicken soup of all things!) and trying to overcharge you, or a young taxi driver lying through his teeth about how far something is and how much the journey should cost.

And there's something heartbreaking about seeing children dressed in rags begging for money. And knowing I am traveling through lands ravaged my wars my country waged decades ago.

And there is so much beauty in this place too. In the land. In the culture. In the smiles of the people of Thailand, Lao, and Vietnam. In their gentleness. In the enthusiastic handshakes and even more enthusiastic hellos and good wishes I've received as an American here in Vietnam, from Hanoi's busiest sidewalk eateries to the smallest little villages I've ever visited.

A month and a half into this voyage, I'm proud - and somewhat surprised - I've made it this far. I plan to stay at least another month, and I'm excited about it. And yet I am rather tired, from a combination of traveling and nursing my body back to health yet again.

And I miss home and all my dear friends, in a sweet way. I miss my forest and my food and tap water that won't make me sick and dancing and hugs and people with tremendous depth and weather I've grown used to and redwood trees and hamburgers and hot tubs and naps and quiet. Oh quiet!

Though I've certainly felt loneliness and ups and downs, I've mainly been quite even-keeled. I am glad I am here. I had to do this, no doubt. I've enjoyed a lot, and also been somewhat disappointed: this voyage has not lived up to my fantasy, not yet anyway.

And yet I am excited to continue. To see more of Vietnam: Hoi An, Saigon, My Lai even. To journey to Cambodia and Angkor and see the the first streams of sunlight bathe the ruins at dawn! To be in Thailand during the annual water festival. To travel to the southern islands and relax deeply on magnificent beaches lapped by warm tourqouise water and surrounded by stunning limestone cliffs!

Some days I feel small. Yes, I do. And other says I feel so adventurous, like yesterday, when I rented a motorbike, invited a girl at my hostel to hop on, and explored the Vietnam of my dreams, running out of gas and finding some 15 feet down the rural roads, zipping down windy roads surrounded by jungle-clad karsts and walking, alone, down narrow paths through stunning, isolated jade-colored valleys. These places are NOT in Lonely Planet! OK most of them weren't. ;-)

I've never traveled like this, alone and for so long. I did spend 4 months in Europe when I was 19, and though that was challenging, it was mainly a study abroad program.

This is me, alone, with no plans, no teachers, no parents, no friends. I can do almost anything and almost anything can be done to me. Hey that's not what I was thinking! Come on guys, this is serious. ;-)

Of course I feel some uneasiness about that. But mainly I know that's a big reason why I'm here: to do this on my own. To go out with virtually no external support - no people or things or conventions I am used to - and to make my way.

And yet, at least for now, I've revised what I thought was my initial agenda. Or perhaps only redefined my purpose.

I though I was coming here for a Hero's Journey that would test my might. I laughed when I had to fill out the immigration form: you can check 'business,' 'vacation,' and an assortment of other categories, but there isn't one for 'Hero's Journey'!

The Hero's Journey is an archetype, which as I understand it, is a story that is common to all of humanity. And this one involves the hero - each of us - leaving home, being tested, and then returning a new person. It's a vital rite of passage.

And that's a big part of why I thought I came here, and perhaps still do. But my conception of the Hero's Journey was in large part this: to be bad-ass and conquer this experience!

What's been working itself through me recently, however, is the idea that maybe this trip doesn't need to be a fantasy, and maybe I don't need to be a hero. That all my life I've tried and often succeeded at being the hero. That all my life I've sought to be perfect, strong, the best.

I think what I'm learning is that I am mortal. I am flesh and blood. I am not perfect. I can't do it alone. I do need people, very much. I do need help, I do fail sometimes, and there's nothing wrong with that. It is sometimes beautiful and sometimes ugly and it is at least profoundly normal. It's being human.

I feel myself coming down to earth. I feel myself wanting simple things more: friends, community, communion with nature, a deep relationship with place...fortunately, all things I have already!

And also, in addition to most likely doing good work for the world, valuing the smaller acts more: of being there for a friend, of smiling at the old lady at the grocery store, of being kind in my every day.

And I am thinking of family, too. Of my current family, and of the family I'll create one day, maybe sooner than I thought?

So many of the people I love are giving birth, and I am envious! I can't wait to spend more time with them and their children. And I am feeling more and more ready to meet a wonderful partner, and love her deeply and passionately, and not settle for anything less than that. And to grow and explore, and to have children (don't hold your breath yet, mom!).

So what's a hero?

Maybe what I'm doing is heroic, for me at least. And maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the main lesson of my Hero's Journey is that I don't need to be a hero anymore. Ha! To come all this way and read all about the journey only to realize that I don't need to be a hero. How ironic! And what I relief. I can just be me, beautiful, wonderful, imperfect, mortal me, equal to everyone around me, doing my part. I can go on a big trip with high hopes and come back happy but not elated with my experience. OK! That's fine! Some experiences are incredible. Others suck. And some are just plain good.

And just now a very old man, frail, exhausted, barely makes his way off the street and onto a chair in my guesthouse. A reminder, somehow, in the flesh, of everything I've just written. Everything.

And now the old man is gone. Was he even really here?

Perhaps this journey is a fuller initiation into adulthood, to the acceptance that rather than things always working out our way - a child's view - and that you are unstoppable - an adolescent view - in fact the world is far more complex.

Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Sometimes you love and it is not returned, and sometimes, it is the other way around. And some precious times, it is!

Sometimes you leave and other times you are left. Sometimes you succeed and other times you fail. Sometimes you are the best, sometimes the worst, and most often, perhaps, somewhere in betweem.

Sometimes you go for it and other times you hold back. Sometimes you cry and shiver with fear, and other times you yelp out in joy at your triumph. And often, again, it's somewhere in between.

I'm feeling more drawn to balance. Rather than an infinite series of battles to reach an infinite (and unattainable) goal, I think I am learning, more and more on this voyage, to see life as a series of exciting experiments.

Some cities rock and others suck. Some travel buddies crack us up and others, well, we can't get away from quick enough! Sometimes you have the perfect day on your motorbike and other times you run out of gas. And sometimes, both happen!

When I was young, one of my favorite movies was "War Games," a brilliant film starring Matthew Broderick about the futility of nuclear weapons and the Cold War. A computer that is supposed to only simulate battles against the USSR takes over and decides to launch a full blown conflict. Eventually, he is taught that such a battle can never have a winner.

"Sometimes," the computer concludes as the movie climaxes, "the only way to win is not to play the game."

Since my early childhood, I have been trying to win a game made up of an infite series of games. Really, it's a game against myself, one that I can't win.

The goal of the game is to be perfect and be the best. To be the best at math. To be the best brother and son and grandson. To be the best at tennis and basketball and volleyball and soccer. To be the best at languages and adventures and camping and cooking and music and love making and dancing, my God, probably everything I have ever tried.

This drive has brought me a lot, and I don't want to overlook that. It's given me a lot of success, relative financial comfort, friends, the ability to impact things.

But it has also cost me so much. It has cost me peace, because it has meant I need to continually tread water to stay afloat. And it has cost me relationshops too.

What if I let my self sink sometimes? What if my fire doesn't always have to be the brightest?

Big fires take a lot of energy. And they burn out quickly.

And the connection one feels there is superficial. It is actually a lonely place.

What if I stopped seeing other people's fires as threats, and instead sought comfort in their warmth and inspiration in their glow? And, even, support their growth, out of joy and love?

As I write now, I'm thinking, "Hold on a sec. You DO support others! You do bask in their glow, more and more, and support them out of joy and love!"

Yes. It's true. And I must not overlook that. That again is seeing things as black and white, and me as not good enough!

Perhaps I'm able to write this now because it is sinking into me, and this act of writing is one of a series of acts that will help it sink in a bit deeper.

And yet it is also true that the drive to be the best and brightest and always triumph still feels too strong to me. Still feels out of alignment.

So how to temper this and come into balance while not making THAT a new thing to be great at?! Oh we humans! It's rare we are let off easy ;-)

Ah it feels good to write this. I feel relief, like, "Ah, I can show more of the real me, and that is OK!"

It's actually a big part of what came out of my Vision Quest. This may be a story I've told you, or even written on this blog (I can't recall), but I'll tell it again, because it seems to be so appropriate.

The day before I went into the wilderness alone, I was confronted with an intense, nerve-wracking realization: that what was holding me back most from stepping into a world of mystery, soul and trust was my need to be perfect at that. What if I fail at my quest?!

That night I wrote on a piece of paper, "Roni needs to get it right and be perfect all the time." I explained to my group how this drive has served me, and also the places it has cost me so dearly. I tossed that piece of paper into a ceremonial fire with the intention of letting go of that idea.

My next 3 days and nights, spent alone in a magestic and stark wilderness, I worked with this idea quite a bit, and let go more and more of the need to identify with it.

It all came to a head on my last night. Many people spend the last night of their quests conducting all night vigils. I was wracked with this choice: would I be bad ass enough to do it?

As I sat perched on a hilltop, it sunk in deep: I don't NEED to do it. That I am enough just as I am. I can go to sleep under the stars, and wake up at dawn and walk off that mountain a good, whole, strong man.

A song came to me then, and the refrain was, "I am enough." And not only that, but the world is enough. My family is enough. My friends are enough. This world is enough!

That morning, I woke before first light, sat on that hilltop, lit a fire and watched as the dawn crept in and illuminated the stunning landscape of mountains, valleys, canyons and rocks.

Before I left for this trip, a friend said, "Your trip is like a quest": a 3-month version of a 3-day quest!

It rang true as soon as he said it, and it has stuck with me. Really, I think our whole lives are Quests. So I don't need to get it "right" by 32 or 33. Our growth and evolution last our whole lives, if not for eternity.

Boy does that take the pressure off! It changes the whole game.

It means I don't have to rush. It means that I can live these questions and face life with far more lightness. Because it never ends, it means you never reach the ideal, you just work toward it at whatever pace and in whatever way feels right. And you soak up all the good in and around you. I feel so much freedom in that.

I can never be perfect and there will always be someone somewhere better than me and everything I do. Often, there will be many people!

In a recent post I wrote about something that came to me while I sat alone in a cave (ha, I realize how funny that must sound to anyone who doesn't live in Fairfax! LOL.) OK I'm trying to stop laughing. :-)

What came to me is that dreams and nightmares live in the same place. Later I realzed that out in the world, Vietnam, with its stark beauty and brutal history, is such a place for me. Inside, at least one place where dreams and nightmares seem to intersect for me is here: that the (fading) nightmare of failure is actually where my dream for peace lies.

There you go. Accepting my imperfection, and hence the imperfection of life and of those around me, and still doing and loving, and striving out of joy.

This too is an ideal, so I'll be careful not to try to be perfect at that too. God Alanis Morrisette would have a field day with this material!

It's not about giving up the parts of me that strive for great things. The bad ass, the tenacious one, the conqueror - these are vital parts that certainly have their place. I think it's more about finding balance, and allowing other parts to flourish as well.

There's so much more as always, but I think I'll stop here. I don't need to get this perfect!

I do have some more time left here in Asia, and 5 minutes before I'm off to the airport, so perhaps I'll wish myself some things. It's a very Fairfax thing to do!

I wish myself feelings of comfort and security on this voyage. I wish myself joy and fun and humor and rich adventure! I wish myself a continued letting go of the need to be great all the time. I wish myself the experiences I need and acceptance of what comes my way. I wish myself safety, and lightness, and play. I wish myself a new definition of success, and a willingness to try and fail, and the knowing, in the end, of when it is time to leave this place and come home, and a feeling of completion around that.

My dear friends and family, I love you all so much. So so much. Two nights ago I even dreamed I had dinner with you. I couldn't make out most of the faces, but I was sharing a meal with those I love. If there are a few ideals I won't let go of, that's one of them!

Wow it's interesting to really want to be traveling alone, and also to savor home and homecoming so! Thanks for reading and for all your love and support. I'll keep keeping you posted!

So much love and my best wishes to you,
Roni