I Love My Thai Cooking Teacher...and the Food We Cooked!

With my tummy almost fully mended, it's back to the world of Thai food. Oh nelly!

Today I enjoyed another lavish grilled fish, rice and stir fried veggies lunch. Plus a coke! My French friends like to drink and smoke, and I do neither...but I do love Coke in a glass bottle!

More to the point of this post, just half an hour ago, I finished the last bite of coconut red curry I made all by myself at an awesome Thai cooking class.

OK, maybe I didn't make it all by myself. Or the stir fried chicken and cashews, or the bomb papaya salad.

I had some help, from a super sweet, super cute Thai woman named Gai, who runs an awesome little cooking school for farangs like me here in Chiang Mai. Me and the frenchies, along with a Swiss, an Aussie, and an Israeli girl spent 5 hours touring a garden, visiting the local market, cooking delicious Thai food, and, of course, eating!

Oh I am so full. And quite smitten, with my teacher Gai.

God it was so nice to cook. You now how I love to do it, and traveling, well, I haven't prepared a meal in more than 3 weeks! Unless you count mixing dried mango and dried papaya in a bag. But that's no meal!

It felt so good to stir fry on a wok, and dice things with a meat cleaver and pummel them in a mortar and pestel. And our group was super sweet. Here I am wokkin' it up with Juliette's very nice boyfriend Seb.

God willing, my stomach will hold up and I'll be able to continue to enjoy the culinary delights of South East Asia. I'll keep you posted of course...and I'm making you a giant feast when I get back!

Much love,
Roni

ps - Tomorrow, I'm going to the dentist. Thailand is know for it's cheap, quality dental care. I asked the dentist how much my filling will cost ($250 in the US), and he says, "Under $30." Yes! Krouzman 7, Global Economy 3.

pps - What's with the picture of you cooking again Roni?

Is this just some kind of ploy to get us to remember how good you look in an apron?

Hey, I didn't say anything.



ppps - And what the hell is this Krouzman?
It's a picture of Juliette.
Haven't you repeatedly pointed out that she has a boyfriend? Actually isn't there a picture of him just a few inches above this?
Yes.
Shameless, Krouzman.
I know, I know. But look at her! Plus I'm quite proud of this pic.

French Connections

People! It's been 5 days since I last wrote.

Some of you may have worried. My mom sure did!

And with good reason. What with my recent hospital visit and all.

Well, I'll give you 4 guesses as to why I haven't posted since Sunday.

Is it:
A. Roni fell deathly ill again and had to be rehospitalized
B. Those politcal activities Roni wrote us about 2 weeks ago landed him in a Thai forced labor camp
C. 2 gorgeous French women have drawn Roni into their illict world of picnics, dancing and tomfoolery
D. Thailand sucks

Thankfully my friends, the answer is...C. A big capital C.

For the most part, these past 5 days have been heaps of fun, thanks in large part to my new French friends.

Say hello to Juliette (joo-lee-ETT) and Caroline (cah-ro-LEEN). Wow are they sweet.

You remember last Sunday when I told you about that French girl I talked to at the market. I'm getting my feet rubbed - oh, it's hard here - when one woman stands out out of the thousands there. My god.

So I say, "OK Krouzman, you want to talk to her. But just walk up to her? She's fucking gorgeous. Yes. Do it. Here's the deal. If she's still around when you're done paying for your foot rub, well then, it is a big invitation from the universe. Take it."

And well, she was. So I did.

Of course the next day we run into each other at another market, and we talk, and she says, hey join us this evening. And I do.

Now it quickly comes out that indeed that word she said 2 weeks ago at the market, the one that sounded like it could be "pig" or "boyfriend"...well, it was indeed boyfriend. OK so there go my fantasies of riding around on motorbikes with this woman through the countryside and - OK, I'll let you use your imagination, in part because most likely she, and my mother, will be reading this.

(Man, I should have a private blog. Oh wait, I do!)

So it's been all platonic. And let's put the girl boy thing aside for a sec, because it would sort of diminsh the connection here.

Juliette and Caroline are awesome. They are super fun, kind, deep, energetic, adventurous, and just the right amount of cooky for my taste.

So is Caroline's boyfriend Jean-Charles. The guy has been so welcoming, plus I love his oh so French name.

I actually told Jean-Charles about the time me and 3 high school friends did a skit for parents night during our senior year of high school. It was on behalf of our French class, and the characters were named, "Jean-Claude, Jean-Pierre, Jean-Luke and Jean-Jean." Unlike our French teacher, who I think hated us, Jean-Charles laughs and tells me he has close family members named "Jean-Pierre," "Jean Claude," and "Marie France." No shit!

In any case, last night Juliette's boyfriend - Charles' brother Sebastian - arrived, and now we are a 5-some. Yes I'm feeling a bit 5th wheely, but gosh they have been so welcoming.

It is odd though that we go out and suddenly I turn around and they've disappeared. 20 minutes later I find them huddled in an alley off the beaten path, exchanging furtive glances and muttering in French. Yet they always seem happy to see me again! Hmmm...

No really it has been wonderful to hang out with this gang. My time here is now basically divided into 3 parts:
1. 10am - 5pm: I'll probably run into one of them somewhere as I amble around from Wat to market to Chinese medicine man
2. 5pm - 11pm: funtime with my French friends in the park, then riding our bikes, then dinner, then going out
3. sleeping quite well, and sometimes dreaming of Jul - uh, of ponies

It's also been a good excuse for me to practice my French, which unfortunately has deteriorated quite a bit since I became rather fluent 10 years go, but not so much as to be useless. I can say "Good evening, my friends! Shall we stroll together?" quite well.

Tonight will be a big test for me though. In a few minutes I must go shower and then meet my French friends for dinner (yes! food!), then go here some jazz. But we'll be joined by my new competition, Mark, who my French friends met last night when I let them out of my sights for 6 or so minutes.

Mark is American, like me, except he speaks better French, plays better guitar, and is keeping up with shaving his head, unlike me. But I've been to Burning Man! Ha ha, Mark! Let's see if you can top that one!

Oh don't you just love my jealous competitive side? Come on I know you do, especially those ex-girlfriends who may be reading this Blog. Thank you by the way.

OK, enough self-deprication. Really, what a great lesson this has all been in going with my gut, and in what one little bold act can lead to. This seems so important, especially during a very open-ended period of travel.

OK, I need to go shower. Much love to all of you and many more stories to come.

Roni

ps - A quick update on my health. I am, well, I think...all better! YES!!! Oh please let is be so. Almost 2 weeks after I collapsed in a Thai restaurant, I now not only have enough energy to get out of bed...I can actually function like a normal human, bowel movements and all!

Today I actually had, get this...a lunch that consisted of more than white rice and boiled bean paste. Crazy, I know. In fact I enjoyed an outstanding lunch with my new French friends. A very nice Thai woman at a sweet little daytime market pulled live fish out of a large plastic tub, her husband killed and gutted 'em, and she grilled them up, just for us. We enjoyed our feast with rice, stir fried veggies, and mangoes. Oh the mangoes here.

pps - A word on durian here before I go shower and brush my teeth. There is a connection here between the durian and the self-cleaning I plan to undertake, and that is because DURIAN IS FUCKING EVIL.

Durian is a Thai fruit that hippies like my friend Joanne (hey, it's true) like to eat cus' it's local and advise others to do so. I'm like, OK.

Now this thing smells - and actually looks - atrocious, something like a rotting corpse that was stuffed full of raw onions and hard boiled eggs before it expired last summer.

Sort of like the innards of Luke's Tan Tan must have smelled in The Empire Strikes Back when Han cuts it open to keep Luke warm after Luke was such a bad ass and killed that big hairy white oger and later he goes on to train with Yoda but then he leaves too soon to save his friends and so is sort of forced into a too early confrontation with his (OK Roni, we get it.) (Fuck you this is my Blog) (I'm gonna stop reading then). (Fine. Go for it. Even if you do, it's the second ps already.) (Wait, Krouzman, why are you attacking your readers? That's not a good strategy.) (True, true. I'm sorry.) father Darth Vader who cuts of his hand and then they are all betrayed and...OK, I'll stop. In any case, the shit smells hidious. There are actually signs posted on busses that say eating durian is outlawed on public transit. For real. But I eat it anyway, and you know what, it tastes OK. But then it gives you terrible gas and you can't stop burping this nasty shit. Joanne, I love you.

I Love Bargaining!

People, this country is for me. OK most countries are for me. Because in most countries, not only is it warm enough to walk around in sandals most of the time (debatable point added for effect), when someone tells you a price for something, you balk, and then they lower the price, and then you balk again, and well, you know how it goes.

I absolutely love this process. It's a bit of an addiction actually, one that I rarely get to indulge in the US.

Tonight I decided to drop lots of cash on various handicrafts here at the Chaing Mai Sunday night market, so I could bring them home and keep some and give the rest to you (awwww, Ron-eeee!).

Thousands of people and many hundreds of vendors fill a huge, closed down street from late afternoon through midnight. It is awesome!

It's a very warm night (I think it hit 100 today), and that makes it especially special. Though I must say being surrounded by so much delicious food, and still not being able to eat much more than rice (hey, I had a steamed spring roll today, and still haven't felt like vomiting!) is a bit like torture.

I'm compensating by shopping. And bargaining like a bad ass! Or at least I'm telling myself that.

I've long loved to bargain, ever since my hard as nails former tank mechanic Israeli father taught me how. We were in Mexico when I was 10 and the guy was a machine. I think actually once some poor peasant paid my father instead of the other way around. That's how good he was.

I learned quick. I was 2/3s as tall as most of the vendors (OK, as tall as most of the vendors - it was Mexico. Oooh, Krouzman) and they say, "3500 pesos." And I'd say, in a voice that was higher pitched than I care to remember, "750 pesos." And god damn it I'd get the little toy sombrero for 750 pesos.

I was hooked. And my father's prowess only emboldened me (see more on this point below).

He taught me the art of bargaining Israeli-style. And let me tell you, few people do it as good as Israelis, in more ways than one ;-)

So tonight I've having a field day! So much fucking fun.

Here's how it goes.

"Thao Arai Krap?" (How much?)

"250 Bhat" (7 dollars)

[Look of shock] "250 Bhat, for a silk table runner?! Wow..." [Start to walk away]

"Wait wait. For you, special price."

[Look of suspicion. Head cocked slightly to left.]

"220 bhat."

[Grimace] "Come on. That's the best you can do?"

"OK, you give price."

[Confident stare. Pause.] "Roi ha sip bhat." (150 bhat) (Nice counter offer in Thai, Krouzman. That'll throw 'em for sure.)

[Bashful smile, or in some cases look of consternation] "Ohhh. No. Too low. I buy for 200 bhat. Cannot."

"OK, how much then?"

"200 bhat."

[Hands to hips. Stare.] "Come on now."

"200 bhat."

"That's the lowest you can go? I'll give you 170 bhat."

"Ohhhh... No... 180 bhat."

"180 bhat? Well, OK, 180 bhat."

[Smiles] "&^% *($% &%$ !" (Unintelligible Thai. I translate it to mean, "Wow, this farang knows how to bargain. Must have had an Israeli dad!" Actually means, "Hey everyone, get a load of this farang. He just paid 180 fucking bhat for this cheap silk table runner I bought for 20 bhat!"

So we're all pleased in the end.

No really I think I'm doing quite well, and it is fun either way. I do feel a little guilty sometimes, like, "God, she wants 7 fucking dollars. I can give her seven fucking dollars."

But Lonely Planet, which is right 23% of the time, says Thais respect a good bargainer. And honestly that's been my experience.

OK, I'm back to the night market. More goodies to be had!

Plus there's that French girl I hope to run into again. I think I heard her say something about a boyfriend, though in French the words for "boyfriend" and "pig" actually sound quite similar. That could be a tough bargain.

Love,
Roni

More on my father's zeal for bargaining and how it landed me my first car...
There's a famous family story about how he dad bought our used 1980 Cadillac. He saw that a Midwestern bank had seized it and was selling it in New Jersey for $5,000. To a former member of the Israeli armed forces, this is the equivalent of shooting very large fish in a very small barrel.

My father calls the bank and says how much? $5,000. He says, "I'll give you $900."

My mother's jaw hits the ground, actually making an audible sort of thumping sound. "Are you nuts?"

My dad got the car for $950. A few years later it became my first car...

More on the car...
I'm compelled to continue here because the car was an anomaly if there ever were one. It was a full sized Cadillac with only 2 doors. You can imagine how heavy, and hence dangerous, each door was. Not only that, but it was produced during a period of time were digital and analog technologies were overlapping, a freak few weeks in late 1979 when someone could actually produce a car with power windows, power seats, power steering, digital stereo...and an 8-track player. Luckily I got my high school's one hippie, Brian Keil (a very cool guy), to give me 34 or so of his 8-tracks. At the time I thought the only music in the world worth listening to was classic rock (wow times have changed - I think I would have walked away from my current self in disgust had I caught me listening to "Glitch Mob" or "The Postal Service"), so I was super stoked to get his collection of Hendrix, Zepplin, and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Oh I actually sort of miss that car.

Stories

They say a story wants to be told. Or often, doesn't want to.

The more I write - and read - the more I believe this. That stories have a life of their own; that they come out when they are ready; and that though they come through us, they are not fully of us.

We are the canyon and the story is the river. The river can't exist without us. And the canyon cannot exist without the river, as we cannot exist without the story. Not only that, but we are molded by stories, carved into reality.

And like rivers, stories are wild. They are unexpected. Our job, when we feel so moved, is to release them and follow their course. Sometimes all we can see is the very beginning, yet we embark anyway, trusting that a story, like a river, cannot help but flow.

Like this story, which I knew was ready to come out, but didn't really know what it might cover. The beginning felt right, so I began.

And now it's clear to me that one vital point of this story is just how important and wonderful stories are. That I am moved close to tears now as I feel this, and I'm not sure why.

Perhaps because each story is a leap of faith, my leap of faith amidst the turbulence of life. Because we pour our hearts into our stories, into good stories. And because, when we have nothing else, when we cannot even eat (oh the sweetness of being able to cry), we at least have stories.

It's what I had in the desert, and it was more important than food. More important than a meal after 4 and a half days taking in only water and air and stars and mountains were my stories and even more so the stories I heard from others.

So now, as I travel, alone, uncertain, and now, sick, I always have stories, stories that connect me to you quite intimately, and also to myself and to the world. I suppose that's what this story is about.

Love Roni

It gives me such joy and nourishment that you are reading my stories. Thanks.

It's Such a Good, Feeling, to Know You're Alive

My mother is generally a tolerant person, but she taught us to hate three things: orthodox Jews, Ronald Reagan, and, for some reason, Mr. Rogers.

The second one I understood, and to some extent the first. But the third, well, I think it confounded my sister and I.

I'm not sure what it was about Mr. Roger's down home American sensibility that so offended my mother. Maybe the tell-it-like-it-is Israeli in her just couldn't stand someone who was always so, well, nice.

In any case, I liked Mr. Rogers, despite my mom's invectives. His business casual dress, the train to fantasy land, and, of course, his theme song...they all soothed me in a certain way.

I found myself humming the tune to "It's Such a Good, Feeling, to Know You're Alive," today at my favorite waterfall in Pai. Isn't she fucking gorgeous?

In addition to conjuring childhood songs, I also loved sitting perched in the limestone canyon where the fall deposits her water listening to my i-Pod (like a brain, except with lots less gigs - especially mine, which has only one - and yet somehow it makes the music sound so much more real. If you use your imagination, something i-Pod's can't do but brains can, picture me sitting on the little rock outcropping on the right.)

After you've been sick the smallest act - just walking - feels like it's all you need. I certainly didn't go through it in any way that was too serious or gut-wrenching. But still, to be able to ride a motorbike and climb rocks and eat vegetables, to get out of bed even after 5 days mostly in bed, this is certainly a good feeling. It's as if a giant metal doughnut has been hoisted off the vital being that is your body (look this analogy up if you've not familiar with the obscure American sport of "baseball").

So I'm slowly coming to, coming back to the world of health. Look, here I am sitting up and eating a large portion of rice AND vegetables! (I really was happier than I look - it's the whole camera timer thing).

Food (no street food, yet!), adventures, simple pleasures - these all come with health. And also, fears and doubts and grief and that other side of our humanity. Oh shit, now I have a choice what I want to do, and the luxury of letting my mind wander.

To sadness sometimes, for some reason. Yes I've been feeling some sadness yesterday and today and I'm not sure why. I'm somewhere in between comfort and fear, and that's some of what's there.

It's actually a bit of a roller coaster, though not a big one like 6 Flags. More like the Santa Cruz board walk coaster, in slow motion, with lots of breaks to look out at the ocean.

Oooh, yummy sleep. Hey, some stress. Ah, beautiful morning birds. Relllaaax... Hey these people are weird. Let's get out of here. Yay motorbike! Boo dumb American girls! What am I doing here? Ah, this is why I'm here! I miss her. I miss...I'm not sure what. Oooh, I could go to Laos! Oh no I could get sick in Laos!

So yeah, being sick did not knock the crazy out of me. Definitely not. Sorry family and childhood friends!

As for what's next, who knows. I think I'll head back to Chaing Mai in a few days, then maybe to Chang Rai, and Laos, as I've said. The Mekong is still calling. And yet last night Thailand's southern islands called rather loudly for the first time as well!

Of course I'll keep you posted.

Love,
Roni

ps - Today I bought my first pair of Thai pants (OK, I bought two), and they feel great! Now I'll finally fit in with everyone else at the Sausalito Sweat or the Good Earth bench, and become the butt of jokes by some Neanderthal who's never even flown over the Pacific. Can you believe some people?!

Back in Pai

I'm not sure what's more dangerous, being sick in Asia or driving in a car in Asia. OK, well I do think it's being sick, but by a hair.

Actually what takes the cake is an ambulance ride over the hills at night in Asia. Yes that is definitely the most dangerous.

Alright my friends, I am back in Pai (!), the quaint, touristy, laid back, picturesque town in Northern Thailand where 5 days ago I succumbed to some sort of bug.

I'm glad to be back here. I'm still on the mend, and despite the town's considerable distance from a hospital where the doctors wear shoes, I look forward to recuperating some more here. To sleeping in a bamboo bungalow and waking to the sounds of birds and the rising sun rather than to sterile rooms with AC and TV. Though admittedly I will miss my Aljazeera!

It's also a mental victory to return here. It feels important to come back to where I got sick and see it is OK and finish my time here and say goodbye.

I'm not sure how long I'll be here, but I'm guessing 3 days. Then back to Chaing Mai I think, to the wonderful Sunday market, where my tentative plan is to load up on trinkets, mail them back to the US, and then give them to all of you at some point.

After Chaing Mai, I think I will head North East to Chaing Rai, a city just south of the Lao border. And then, the Mekong river and Laos are calling.

Who knows what will happen, but that's what I'm feeling for the moment. Anything could change that, from my health to some other opportunity or idea.

That's a big part of this trip for me as you know: planning little and staying open and going with what feels right. So as much as I want to be in Northern India for the Dalai Lama's annual teachings and Uprising Day, Laos and the Mekong are calling more loudly right now.

But darn that's a tough choice! And if such choices should be my main problem then I will be a lucky man.

I'll keep you posted on my health. Further blood test results in a few days. I hope to continue to gain my strength (I ate my first vegetable today! and lots more rice) so I can enjoy more of this incredible part of the world.

Thanks again for all your thoughts and prayers and emails and phone calls. They've made a huge difference!

Love Roni

Getting Stronger!

I walked a whole 2 and a half miles today! Slowly. Most of it just now, on a balmy Thai evening, and there are few things better in my book than the feeling of actually walking around, on a warm night, after being mainly in bed for 4 days.

I'm feeling better, but still quite fatigued, and a bit worried. It's hard to separate the physiological symptoms of fear from the symptoms of sickness.

My diet is making a sloth-like recovery, from bland vegetable soup and rice for a day, to Miso soup and rice for 2 days, and today, to Thai rice soup for breakfast (traditional here) and again for dinner! One small step for mankind, one rather large step for me.

Really I think I'm fine, just recovering slowly. I think tomorrow I'll head back up north to the utopia where this all began, to rest in my bungalow and sort of face a fear of heading to a rural area again. That's important - I'd hate to confine myself only to urban areas from this point forward, though I do love big cities.

So of course there is learning in all this, like all things: solitude, patience, taking care of myself, facing fears, being with what is. And really I'm feeling quite at ease.

And I was a bit cranky today. Lying in bed most of the day alone sucks, even if you do have Aljazeera and the BBC to entertain you.

Thanks for all the thoughts, calls and emails! Wow I have a freakin' army of supporters and that feels great.

Much love,
Roni

The Latest on My Bod

Hi friends,

Here's the latest. I'm feeling OK but still down. Quite fatigued and somewhat nausious. I'm basically resting, drinking water, watching TV, and eating rice and miso soup. Good thing there happens to be a japanese restaurant directly across the street from my guest house.

I went to the hospital again this afternoon and my doctor seems as unconcerned as ever. That said my US doctor who has been practicing for 30 years was concerned when I spoke with her.

So I went back to the hospital to do follow up blood tests, which show that my white blood cell count has plunged (a very good thing I'm told) to just under 5,000 from 15,000. And my Neutrophil count dropped to 70 from 96, also supposedly a very good thing. Meaning basically my body is responding well to the antibiotics they are putting me on. I have yet to share this info with my US doc because she is sleeping.

So I'll most likely of course be fine, but I do feel scared because it's been 3 or 4 days and I'm alone and who the hell knows what I really have. So not to scare you all but just to let you know where I'm at.

Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers (and wow for the West Coast healing circle - East Coasters that's when every sits around and plays poker, placing bets on how quickly I'll recover), and for being such great logistical supports.

If you want to call/skype, my hotel phone = (66 countrycode) 53.218.716, room 204. If I don't pick up it means I'm out or sleeping.

I'll keep you posted. In my brighter hours (most of the time), I do see this as a very valuable growing experience and something that will serve me and my loved ones for the rest of my life, by boosting my ability to take care of myself and conquer some fears, and hence care for others. And in general I'm feeling calm and OK, if a bit bored.

OK, off to eat some rice and miso, and watch an aljazeera special on peoples' resistance movements, perfect for me on a few levels!

Much love,
Roni

I'm Out of the Hospital...the short version

In case you haven't been following my journey step by step (what kind of friend / voyeur are you anyway?!), 2 days ago I passed out twice at a Thai restaurant and was taken to a local rural hospital. After a frightening back and forth (scary for me, quite humorous for the Thai nurses who spoke no English), they sped me to a bigger better hospital in the city of Chaing Mai, where not only do the doctors speak English, they also wear shoes AND know how to read an EKG!

The doctors are pretty sure I've succombed to some sort of bacterial intestinal infection. Crazy, I know, that in a third world Asian country one should get sick.

Anyway, they took very good care of me and I'm on anti-biotics now, and out of the hospital. I plan to take it as easy as I need to until I'm better, which will take a few days or perhaps longer.

In the near future, most likely tomorrow, I will post an extensive entry on my blog chronicling my harrowing 42 hours, complete with midnight ambulance rides, sexy nurses, large needles and, of course, how much this all cost. Expect an opus.

In the meantime, I'll be in room 204 of the Chaing Mai Sri Pat Guest House, most likely pooping, eating sushi or watching Aljazeera.

Much love,
Roni

Roni's adventure includes two hospitals

Before you read any further, you should know this post is being orchestrated by Roni's good friend Elan. He called me about a half an hour ago with some news that he had passed out last night Thailand time. His body (and his mother's) has done this before. He went to one hospital and then was ambulanced to a much better hospital. He is under good care and sounds good on the phone (albeit a little scared justifiably so). They are doing tests, think it's a bacterial infection and will probably put him on antibiotics. He will probably be in the hospital for a few days so posts on the blog from him will cease. I will update again when I hear more.

Love to Roni and you all.

Please fax me a tank top

Folks, I don't know what it is about this country, but there are 3 things you simply cannot buy:
* A reusable water bottle
* A used Lonely Planet guide to the Mekong River area
* Tank tops that don't advertise Thai beer

I brought 7 pairs of socks with me (dumb), and only 3 tank tops (dumber), one of which is thick and black and hence unusable during the day. This leaves me 2 tank tops.

I need more tank tops. Please fax 3 to "Ganesh Garden Bungaloes," Pai, Thailand, or email me an attachment. I should be able to download it onto my I-Pod shuffle (it does have one whole Gig after all), and then create the shirt off Mac's new "I-Shirt" application. I think.

Korp khun krap (thanks),
Roni

Yes I did ride an elephant today!

Hellloooo friends!

It's been quite a day travel wise. I got around by foot, motorbike...and even, elephant!

To celebrate my seventh day here in Thailand, I splurged ($15!) for an hour long trip a top this incredible creature.

Yup, this is me riding Tam Tam (or some shit), an 18-year old female elephant. It was quite the experience!

She's big, super big, and to get up on her they had me climb up her trunk and pull myself up by her massive bulging brain. I knew this would be a good ride given the "Just go for it!" start. So un-American in its lack of regulations.

Anywho, Tam Tam rode me down the street (and perilously close to tree branches and 220 volt electrical wires), and then into a river where she sprayed me with so much water and then dunked me. Oh it was fun, if a bit unnerving. I'm not sure how much she weighs, but enough to crush me that's for sure.

A word about riding elephants: dumbo may look soft, but real elephants are quite brittle. If you're gonna do it, wear long pants for God's sake!

After riding Tam Tam and thoroughly chaffing my inner thighs (TMI!), I rode my motorbike to a local hot spring for some much needed R & R. Then I visited a limestone canyon, and after that, an incredible waterfall carving it's way through limestone. Wow.

I'm experiencing more of rural Thailand, and it is beautiful. Riding through little villages, rice fields, hills and windy roads. Past school kids and old men tending crops and mothers carrying babies on motorbikes.

I continue to be struck by the beauty and peaceful nature of the people here. I'm probably romanticizing some, but I think there's something to what I'm sensing.

And the place I chose to stay at...yes! Here's a pic. I slept so peacefully there last night. Earlier in the evening Tee, the 26-year old Thai co-owner made me and him a delicious dinner. Cauliflower has rarely tasted that good...and you know of my penchant for preparing le chouz fluer! (That's cauliflower in French, peeps. Probably going to Laos, so gotta brush up.)

I'm the only one staying on the property. This morning I woke to the sound of hundreds of song birds, and also a bastard rooster who wouldn't stop screeching all night.

After my mostly restful sleep, I woke and meditated by the stream that flows through the property. I felt very at peace.

Remarkably, I have only 38 Bhat left in my pocket right now (I splurged on dinenr as well - 5 bucks for delicious fried fish, pork curry, brown rice and a coconut shake!), so I need to stop writing now.

I've been here a week. It's been quite rich. I'm feeling some homesickeness, and mainly just going with the flow.

Thoughts of, "What am I doing here?" keep arising. What is the point of this? To rest? To enjoy? To adventure? To challenge myself?"

All of the above, perhaps. I'm telling myself, "Go with it. Give yourself to it. You may not see it but there is purpose to all this too."

Much love to all of you,
Roni
- Pai, Northern Thailand

Twists and Turns

How exactly I ended up eating falafel in Thailand with 6 Europeans tonight is beyond me. But this has been a day of twists and turns, so I suppose it really wasn't that surprising.

It's also been a day of some consternation, and one event after another that keeps confirming what is settling deeper into my bones on this voyage: that it's not so much the destination as the journey, and that each choice we make along the way leads to unforseen events, and often, to a destiny we could not have imagined.

I started the day by taking a 3 hour van ride from Chang Mai north through the hills of Thailand. The road was super windy (as in twisty, turny), and some of you know my tummy isn't up for some things.

I held up OK though, which is more than I can say for the young hung over Israeli man who also happens to be yabbering with his 2 friends in the very internet cafe I'm sitting in right now. Why this destiny should befall me in a land of internet cafes is beyond me.

In any case, with 3 kilometers to go in a 125 kilometer trip, young post-army Alex announces in Hebrew, "I'm going to throw up. I mean it."

His friend and I look at each other, sort of pause time for a minute, and then accept our collective fate and firmly tell the driver to stop, now. Alex does his deed, and we proceed. More than you needed to know, perhaps, but I want to give you an honest picture of my trip. It's not all fairy tales and pork skewers.

(Look man, I'm reasonably proud of my Israeli roots, but if these kids don't shut the fuck up right now I might just start sighing a little louder.)

We arrive in town and it hits me pretty hard in the gut: this supposedly utopian small Thai town feels like one big tourist mall to me. I feel the fear coming in (wrong choice!), the loneliness, the sense of being lost, unmoored. I can actually feel it in my belly.

I eat some food and drink some ginger tea and decide to go with my gut: rent a mountain bike and head for the hills. So late afternoon, I do just that, crossing the river that runs through town and quickly entering a rural landscape of farms and jungle and mountains. More like the Southeast Asia of my dreams.

I feel myself relax as I pump the pedals and drive past old farmers in their fields, and am passed by Thais on motorbikes. I continue on past small houses on stilts, past old women carrying baskets and a child who smiles as big as a human can.

I'm entering the landscape, and also looking for a place to stay. The place I've booked for the night just doesn't feel right: it's too rundown, too soulless, too close to the bars and internet cafes.

I reach a sign that says, "Forest Monestary." Yes. Yes yes yes. I turn off the road and reach a small clearing with a few shrines. It's totally empty.

I am still for a moment. And I remember that mantra, about the destination and the journey, so who knows where this bike ride will take me, or any of this.

I bike on a few hundred meters more, and then there it is, to my right: a few small bungaloes just beyond a bamboo bridge. I decide to turn, another choice in a series of choices that ultimately leads me to a place I imagined on some level and didn't imagine I'd reach on another.

I pull in and a Thai man my age smiles warmly, invites me to sit, and brings me a small silver bowl filled with drinking water. I graciously accept - it's hot, and I've been biking.

His name is Tee and he is so sweet and kind. He and his partner Talia (Canadian, not Jewish or Israeli despite the name) have run this place for 2 years.

It's idyllic: fields surround 3 thatched bunagloes, and Tee and Talia's hut, and a kitchen, and a tipi Tee just finished. He invites me inside with a humble pride, and we sit. He tells me I'd be welcome to eat with them for a dollar a day, and that he'll teach me how to cook. Later he shows me his horses and says perhaps we can ride them to the waterfalls 5km away.

I know this is the place for me. It feels so calm and peaceful and real, more like the Thailand I am searching for in these parts. I tell him I'll take the room.

Then I ride away further down the road, and find more fields and farmers and villagers, and two more Wats. I feel at peace. And yes, I even find pork skewers!

I ride back into town as the sun sets, and happen up a large nighttime market. The streets are closed and full of people.

I run into Cybill, again, and a group of new friends of hers. I try to connect and I find myself feeling awkward and distant. I think I'm meant more for solitude right now.

I'm about to head to the place I'll be staying tonight, to sleep and pack up. Tomorrow morning Tee will pick me up and bring me to his land. I'm not sure what will happen, but it feels like an auspicious step on this journey.

I'll be sure to keep you posted.

Love,
Roni

PS - Oh yeah, the falafel. For some reason I go along with Cybill and her friends to a restaurant run by two Thai villagers serving Israeli food. I'm like, "No way I'm eating Israeli food here. This is ridiculous." Of course 10 minutes later I'm sharing a falafel plate with the cute Belgian girl. The falafel sucked, but the pita was the best I've had outside Israel.

PPS - Earlier this afternoon, when I felt scared and lost, I invited many of you in to look me in the eyes and smile and give me a hug. It helped so much. Thank you.

Yes I AM riding a motorbike through Chang Mai!

OK so today I was like, I'm renting a motorbike so I can zip through the streets of the bustling Thai city of Chang Mai.

Only problem is:
* I've never riden a motorcycle before
* They drive on the left here
* Even if they drove on the right this is Asia and people drive like they're nuts

But you know what? That's my dad talking.

Despite my trepidations, I rented a motorbike this morning. A nice young Thai guy rented it to me for $4.50 and gave me a 5 minute lesson. I zipped half way around the block, almost crashed, zipped back and said, "I'll take it!"

He asked sweetly, "Are you sure you can do this?" And I'm like, "Yes, yes I can!" At least that's what recent political events back home have taught me.

(Just kidding mom! The last few paragraphs were just for effect.)

So I am riding through the streets of Chang Mai, and it is really, really fun! Sometimes I need to remind myself, "Roni, you are riding a motorcycle through the streets of an Asian city. Did you catch that? YOU ARE RIDING A MOTORCYLCE, THROUGH THE STREETS, OF AN ASIAN CITY!"

Also I need to remind myself:
* Fuck stay to the left
* Fuck break dude, break
* Fuck don't hit the old man peddling the cart - please don't do that

Dude it is fun, fun, fun! You can buy these here for $1,000. I think I may have a future with these little guys, both here in Asia and back home.

Woo hoooooooooooooooooo!

Love Roni

PS - Ha! Just kidding mom, I'm not really doing this!

PPS - Tomorrow morning I take a 3 hour van ride through the mountains to Pai, which sounds a lot like Fairfax in the tropics. I'll keep you posted!

Will someone please pinch me?

K peeps. Same drill: Today was super rich, everything was super cheap, I stuffed my fat white face, and now I can barely keep my eyes open.

Except, as this is Asia, it was totally unique. So read on.

(Had to say that otherwise you wouldn't have kept reading, right? Right?)

Yeah, a lot happened today, including:
* conversations with a monk
* my first foot rub
* and my first anti-government protest!

I've only been here 3 days but basically I'm gathering that South East and Central Asia are like a year-round version of Burning Man, just with less naked people. Uh, yeah!

Well, more naked people would be nice. The Thai people are sweet, and beautiful, and modest.

OK, 3 super fun experiences with locals today...

1. Let's start the day with one of my funnest cab rides ever, 45 minutes to the Bangkok airport. It turns out the driver is my age and super, super nice. He speaks in very broken English, and I consult my thai phrase book. I learn how to count in Thai! Neung, seung, sa, see, ha, ho, jwet, ba, kow, sip!

YES! Krouzman 1, Thai Language, 48. OK it's kicking my ass, but I'm on a 1-0 winning streak here.

The flight to Chang Mai was a piece of cake. I land and hit my guesthouse, which is replete with hammocks and teak and pillows and everything you'd expect from a tropical hostel. Shit for $4.50 a night I'd settle for a bamboo mat and a bucket.

2. Then I go check out the flower festival, which I actually didn't find that awesome. Sorry mom! But basically everything in Thailand seems at a minimum, nice, so no sweat.

I decide to walk down the street to a beautiful temple. They are almost always open and you get to just sit and pray if you want. Some loneliness crept up today, and sitting for a bit helped soothe me.

It's amazing to be in a country where spirituality seems so part of every day life. Temples are everywhere here in Chang Mai, and people just walk in, say a few prayers, and carry on with their day. No big whoop!

Here's where things take a surprising turn. I walk on, and suddenly I'm in the middle of a raucous anti-government protest!

Everyone is dressed in red and either marching or driving in cars, trucks or tuk tuks. I am stoked.

Suddenly, a tuk tuk driver motions me to join in. I hesitate for a moment, and then jump in!


I am now the only white person part of this 1000 person protest. They tie a red bandana around my neck and love that I've joined in. I really don't know what I'm part of, or whether or not this could land me in jail, but it was super fun and quite the experience.

3. OK, that protest was intense...time to go back to the guesthouse. I'm beat.

Yeah, right. I happen upon a massive street festival / market full of maybe 1000 little stalls and many thousands of people. The weather is perfect as the sun sets and the near full moon rises.

Everyone is so chill. People here are so relaxed! I don't think I've heard one person yell yet. It's just like Israel! Not.

Of course there are hundreds of people selling delicious food. I enjoy:
* spring rolls
* pad thai wrapped in an omlette
* some weird jelly-lie chinese dessert
* some egg thingie in a banana leaf
* fresh orange juice
* fried bananas

Oh yeah earlier in the day I bought two pork skewers, for 10 cents a skewer. 10 fucking cents a skewer, for pork! Granted they were small skewers, but 10 cents?! For 10 cents you couldn't buy fakatka in New York!

This whole market scene is happening on a closed down main street and spilling into surrounding courtyards and temple grounds. So you amble about and grab a fruit drink and some fried chicken balls and sit at a little table surrounded by trees in front of a gorgeous gold bhudda. Wat?! (ha)

Two of my funnest market experiences tonight:
* getting my first foot rub - 30 minutes for $1.80, if you care to know
* sitting and talking for 30 minutes with a sweet (OK, they are all sweet) 27 year old monk who looked a lot like me! That was cool. I must say if I were a woman, or gay, I would make it my goal to de-flower a monk. Even those who didn't look like me.

OK, reality check. Though I'm making Thailand sound like Heaven on Earth, it's got it's downsides, too. I'll close with a few challenges I'm facing here:
* How NOT to buy all these beautiful, cheap goods, because I don't want to weigh down my pack (including Vespas, whcih go for $1,000)
* How to stay hydrated in a land where I've seen everything including kitchen sinks for sale, but not one reusable water bottle
* How to find a freakin' garbage can

OK, ya'll who have neen here are probably laughing, and those who haven't, well, maybe you're mildly amused.

In any case, it's that time again. Grazing time. Then sleep time.

More pics to come for sure. As karma would have it, my camera battery died just at the moment I wanted to take a picture of me and the bhuddist monk talking about the merits of non-attachment. For real. Fuck I wanted that picture!

Much love,
Roni

PS - This is Cybill. She is cute and Austrian. We ran into each other 3 times in Bangkok and Chang Mai, which is extremely hard to do, so we decided it had to be destiny and we had to hang out. Here we are getting our feet rubbed together. She does have a boyfriend, but it's hard to tell, so I'll keep you posted.

PPS - Like my new shirt?!

Grazing Bangkok...say Wat!

Dumb. That's a dumb title. But it's late and I'm tired again. And I just can't learn any freakin' Thai! Phuket krap!

God you can be such a child sometimes Krouzman. Ah go to hell.

Anywho, today was like eating a whole chocolate cake after eating 3/4 of a chocolate cake the day before. Yummy, and, whoa!

I began the day in my awesome guest house, enjoying a yogurt meusli fresh fruit breakfast in this utopian tropical setting. Then I set out for the Grand Palace and surrounding sights.

Beautiful. Super ornate. Check out this shot of the reclining Bhudda, a gold statue maybe 100 feet long and 50 feet high enclosed in a beautiful Wat (temple).

A few favorite moments, both involving kids.

First it's custom to put tiny coins in ceremonial bowls in the Wat that houses the reclining Bhudda. This would have been fun either way, but was made all the more so because I was tailed by the cutest little girl in Thailand.

Second, when I sat outside, a group of kids in their early teens approached me for drugs. No, it was for a school project, or so they said. They asked me simple questions and I responded and it was a hoot. My cowboy hat probably made me look very American. I asked them to teach me how to say their questions in Thai. My attempts were even more of a hoot! We ended the affair with a few group photos.

Then I walked through Bangkok's Chinatown. Chinatown anywhere is crazy. Chinatown in a crazy city is...super crazy. Meandering alleys housing stall after stall of vendors, hawking everything from chilis and greens to sweet smelling flowers to discount price memory cards (damn you Krouzman for wasting your money in Seattle!) to delicious fried foods to more chilis.

I was in heaven. There are few things I enjoy more than floating around markets and old city centers. For real.

Mostly today I grazed, like a cow. Oh yeah, there's some pineapple. 28 cents? No problem. Ooh, three whole fried fish! 60 cents? Well, if you insist. Oh and noodle soup with fish and pork. 60 cents? Yes please! How about some more fried fish, this time ground up and mashed into yummy little balls? 60 more cents? Only if I can also buy a fruit drink from you too. Deal!

Really, all this eating is, well, awesome. Everything has tasted either really good or great. The challenge is pacing yourself just so, so you don't eat too much at once and then have to stop grazing for a few hours. I think I'm getting it down pretty good.

After 3 hours of walking, ogling and grazing amidst urban chaos, hit a local park. The brief rest was a much needed break.

Nearby a few dozen art students were sketching the landscape. A few were having fun pretending their easel was a machine gun. It must be nice living in a peaceful culture that mostly only pretends with that kind of stuff. I guess that's what happens when colonizers decide to skip over your utopia rather than bombing the shit out of you AND your water buffalo.

Anyway, back to the issue at hand, my soaking up of this very rich place. Next I took my third tuk tuk ride in 3 days. These guys drive like they are playing a video game. SO fun. despite the fumes!

We ended up at Siam Square, like the Times Square / Park Ave of Bangkok. Yikes, and well, cool too.


From there, I took the sky train (above ground modern train thingie) to another park, adjacent to Bangkok's weekend market. Whoa nelly! More food,more trinkets, more people, more labarythine alleys...and more fun.

By this point I was stuffed silly, and ready to pass out. I hopped a bus (30 cents) and managed to find my way home. Then ate a yummy dinner here at the Shanti Guest house, and now I'm writing you.

Tomorrow I fly north to Chang Mai. A friend back home said, "Don't fly! Take the 10 hour night train!" Listen sister, the last time I took a 10-hour night train I was 19 and couldn't stop yacking the whole way between Barcelona and Madrid. I'm coughing up the $60 for the 55 minute plane ride, no pun intended.

More to the point, Chang Mai is a much smaller city up North, and it's supposed to be stunning. And, as my good fortune would have it, the city hosts its annual flower festival this weekend. It's supposed to be epic, if you believe my mom, and most everyone else I've spoken too.

Peeps, it is time to go to bed. God I wish I remembered how to say goodbye! OK, I'll cheat and consult my Lonely Planet guide.

Laa kawn!
Roni

Sa wat dee krap!

You know that point when jet lag hits you, Wham over the head! It could have happened at any point today really. It hit me about an hour ago. Not bad. I'm fighting the good fight to keep my eyes open right now, and damn it, I'm gonna blog.

The past 30 hours have been...fucking insane in retrospect. Almost all in a good way.

My flight here, and associated layover, took like 20 hours. Thankfully years of flying to Israel and a new found sense of patience in general meant the experience really was fine. Except I sat next to a 50-something Vietnamese man - former Vietcong, no doubt - who could not stop coughing. He didn't seem to like to cover his mouth either. Payback, I guess.

Anyway, here's me on the plane. Classic Roni plane picture. If you think back, you'll notice it looks almost identical to the Roni on the plane to Costa Rica pic. What a cute dork he is.

The flight was uneventful other than the germ warfare retribution thing, except for the first 6 minutes. Just as the plane took off, I hit song #1 on my new i-pod shuffle: the Star Wars theme song. Yes!

(BTW if you have yet to watch the video associated with my last post, do it. It's funny shit people.)

One more thing I'll say about my trip here is that the Taiwan airport is an interesting place. It's everything you'd expect of an advanced Asian transport hub: neon, commercial, and...really big on Hello Kitty!

Here I am in the Hello Kitty lounge. Maybe you're thinking, "OK Roni, that's cute, but obviously it's an American tourist thing." No, no. Actually after I left lots of other Asian adults sat in the Hello Kitty lounge like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. WEIRD!!!

OK, so Bangkok. Wow. I may have to invent a new term to describe how I'm feeling. How about, Culture Shock? Good one, Krouzman!

Really it is big here, in every way. Crazy driving of course. Lots of people, nearly all of them far shorter and far nicer than me. People here are ridiculously nice...and quite short.

There is food EVERYWHERE. Cheap, delicious food. You basically walk around grazing. You could be in the tiniest alley ever - and that's what I really enjoyed, walking the labarynthine alleys (another good one, Krouzman, even if you may have misspelled it) - and not have to walk more than 50 feet to pass someone selling something edible.

Today I bought and ate/drank:
* 1 chicken skewer - 28 cents
* 1 coconut - 60 cents
* 1 fish dinner - $5 (overpriced, but so good)
* 1 grilled corn on the cob dipped in coconut butter - 60 cents
* a few pieces of fruit that look like yellow peppers - 28 cents
* stir fried noodles with shrimp - 85 cents

And consider I only got into the city from the airport around 1:30pm. Yes, I am full now.

In addition to food, I am struck by the juxtaposition of modernity and antiquity here in Bangkok - and throughout Asia I imagine - as well as wealth and poverty. Like boat people floating past sky scrapers and cars driving from the airport past tin shacks with laundry hanging out front.

A lot of you know this drill, but it's striking to me, and I get to say it cus it's my blog!

OK to in addition to walking around a bunch and taking all these juxtapositions in, and sampling maybe 1/10 of 1% of the panaply of food options this city has to over, I also:
* took a tuk tuk (motorized 3-wheel little scooter / taxi like thing) with a cute Italian girl and a cuter French girl
* walked the famous tourist street everyone said to go to which I really didn't like, not the least of which because you could buy falafel there and there were actually signs in Hebrew for stuff
* and hung out in a park by the river

2 "Wow, that's cool Roni is such a neat off the beaten path traveler" moments...

First was going into one of the many Bhuddist monestaries in the city (Wats) just as one of the young monks was beginning a lesson for school kids. It was a beautiful gold sanctuary, and quite small. I sat there on the floor and listened as the monk spoke and the kids chanted and giggled. I didn't understand the words but I got some of the gist of it from the laughter and the smiles.

Second super cool local experience...It was toward the end of my evening when I spotted 4 of my favorite kinds of tables being used in a public park. OK I guess the pic sort of gives it away.

Yes, they were ping pong tables! I was invited to play and got my ass kicked by a very sweet 50 year old woman. Then I held my own against a guy a few years younger than me.

To be fair the woman was wearing a Beijing 2008 shirt, so she was probably on the Thai team. Actually, at that age, most likely their coach. And ya'll know how big ping pong is in Asia. OK that last part is for real.

It was super fun to play, with local people, and then hang out and try to communicate. They spoke hardly any English, and my one word - sa wat dee krap, which means hello - only gets you so far. It does however wrap up this post quite nicely.

Time for bed!

Love,
Roni

Oh God I am literally surrounded by Germans right now. You know how that freaks me out. Shit 2 of them are actually quite cute though. Hmmm...

Loving and Leaving

I'm in Seattle now, part nest after an intense month, part springboard to Asia. It's been a relaxing 24 hours with my friend Liam, a welcome respite from 10 days of powerful connections, goodbyes, and the hectic, draining work of closing up my house and putting everything I own either in storage, on the street, or into the hands of a dozen friends.

I was super busy, and yet for some reason I remained excited about documenting as much of my last week as possible. I shot probably 2 hours worth of footage on my little Cannon Elf.

I'm not sure what I'll do with all of it, if I'll even have the time. I did take a few hours to string together a 2 and a half minute short today that combines my love of Star Wars with the bizarre world of storage facilities. God it was so fun to make. I think you'll enjoy it!



My last 10 days in Marin may have been the richest of my life. My intention was to soak up everything and everyone I loved, and to love deeply in return, and to say goodbye with heart.

And that's what I did. The amount of love I felt emanating from me, and coming to me, felt flabbergasting. I treasured, deeply, every moment I spent with my dear community of friends, through precious one-on-one time, small gatherings, dinners, dances, walks and a big going away party. And while there was a lot of work to do, I did my best to have fun and remember the meaning beneath it all.

What a joy it was to be able to love and be loved by so many wonderful beings. Words cannot express it. Perhaps a large, glowing smile can. And to soak in the forest, the tree-lined streets, our downtown. To continue to laugh and dance (so much!) and engage in crazy projects throughout it all.

And to close down my house. The place where I spent 3 and a half years. Loving housemates and struggling with some of them. Growing, so much. Laughing my head off, bawling, screaming, cuddling, making love, suffering, feeling intense joy, making sweet music, dancing, preparing delicious meals, sharing food, organizing gatherings, resting in peace after a hard day of work.

One of my last acts was to say goodbye to the place that was home for so long for me. I entered each room, and felt that room, and allowed images of what had happened there to race through my mind. I cried deeply in each room, especially my bedroom, and caressed the hardwood floors, and then returned to each room with sage, to say, "Thank you for all you gave me and everyone who passed through here. May you bless the next people who come through here." Then I kissed the doorway and walked out for the last time.

I've shared barely anything about my Vision Quest on this blog, in part because I've been busy, in part because it's hard to find the words to do such a profound experience justice, and in part, because it may be a story that wants to be told more one on one, in snippets, over time.

But my Quest help deepen inside me a few important themes that were at the forefront of my leaving, and here are three of them.

The first is to see and remember and treasure the meaning and sacredness in everything and everyone. It can be easy to overlook these of course. But someone helping you move is not just a helper, she is there to help you end, and that is sacred. Friends who drive you to airports and pick you up and welcome you into their homes are not just helping you with practical concerns, they are emissaries, guides, carriers, deep supports. People who agree to hold onto your plants and your bed and your dining room table while you are away are not just taking stuff, they are caretakers, and they are holding part of you.

Rooms are not just 2 by 4s and sheet rock, they are sanctuaries, keepers of memories, guardians. Forests are not just stunning ecosystems, they are protectors, expressions of the divine, and sanctuaries as well. Communities are not just groups of people, they are essential, indispensable, and beautiful expressions of our humanity. Dance is not simply an activity, it as a place where our souls can run free.

The second theme is that everything that we go through has purpose and gives us something. That activities and processes and moments in time are not simply events to get through, they are key to reaching the next step, and they add to us regardless of what the next step is. And that these experiences are to be welcomed as much as possible, the joys as well as the challenges, rather than resisted, even when they are hard. So everything that has come up and that I've faced in leaving - fear, caring, letting go, saying goodbyes, some of them quite difficult - has infused me more awareness and strength and with love I will carry forever and a deeper sense of what it means to be human.

And that is the third and most important theme for me this past month: love. Love for my whole self and everyone around me and trees and warm weather and dance and even inanimate objects like a house. That while it may sound cliche, especially in Marin, to me it has become far more clear, in a very deep place, that we exist to love, and be loved. That for some reason all I've been through and done these past few years, and what I experienced in the desert, and the facing of death there, and the facing of death in leaving, has made it even more clear how much I love and how much I value and need to love and be loved and how that is, by far, the most important thing there is. By far.

When you spend 4 and half days with no food, and 3 days and 3 nights alone, in the rocky desert wilderness, with no shelter and no books and no company and the thought that you might die, you realize more fully that life is too short to focus on what isn't there or what triggers us. While some conflict and disappointment are normal, I've found myself focusing so much more on what I love about people and about life. And this has made a tremendous difference, and it has sprung from a very authentic place.

What a paradox, or irony, that in facing death we value even more what is important in life. And again, this sounds cliche, but to me it has become so much more real. In leaving and letting go, bravely and with heart, in consciously marking an ending what is ending becomes so much more rich and wonderful. So we must leave what we love from time to time, perhaps, to realize its value, to deepen our connection to it, and one day, on some level, to return.

And I feel that the more we can reach the point where we can let go - consciously, connected to our hearts - and that has taken me a lot of work - it is at this point that the love we give and receive is even more fulfilling. Because then it is far less about holding on, possessing, controlling, worrying - all of which I've known quite well - and more about being, deeply, in the experience, and giving all we have, which becomes such a joy, and then, I've found, getting so much more of it in return, which is priceless.

So I don't think it is about just holding on or just about letting go. Either one alone is far easier than the balance of both.

And it's interesting and incredible often how people and the universe respond when you are in this place. How those around you open their hearts more as you do. How someone who has avoided you can bravely admit his fear and extend his hand. How a partner you have avoided for months appears out of thin air on your second to last day in town, and gives you the opportunity to take another step toward completion, and how you can muster the heart and the courage to walk up to her and to smile and give her a hug and see her heart again and share a sweet goodbye.

A few days before I left I walked in the forest with my dear friend Sarah, and something profound sunk in. Once again, I have to give the cliche disclaimer here :-). Or maybe I don't need to, because this became real for me for the first time.

And that is that perhaps we really are here for many, many lifetimes. And that each lifetime, we are here to learn one important lesson, or maybe more. And that this lesson, if we can learn it, helps us to fully embody our humanity and give a tremendous gift to the world.

I think one of my great works in this lifetime is this: to love so deeply, with all my heart, to gather and hold passionately and tenderly, to cherish and treasure, and then, when the time comes, to let go. To let go with the same presence, with the same intention, the same blessing, the same authenticity and the same sense of liberation.

I was reminded today of the words of the poet Mary Oliver:

To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

The letting go part has been especially hard for me - with lovers, with convictions, with experiences - and it will probably be a lifelong practice. What a relief that I don't have to learn it by next year! :-) What a relief to view this as my sacred life's work instead of something wrong with me I need to fix.

And now a smile crosses my face. I have left Marin and I am about to leave this country for a great unknown. For new languages and exotic cultures and flow and solitude and new people and loneliness and mountains and forests and monestaries and lushness and starkness and who knows what else. I am leaving home, filled with love, and excitement and fear and curiosity and longing and so much of what it means to be human.

And that's it. To be human. All parts of me. As open hearted as I can be.

So much love and my deepest gratitude to all of you for letting me love you and for loving me and for all the support you have showed and the presence you have showered on me as I depart.

Roni