Moving Between Worlds

Home

2009-04-20T20:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-14T04:53:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-13T07:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-13T06:58:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-12T08:46:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-04-12T08:28:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-12T00:25:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-09T01:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-05T08:56:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-04T23:24:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-04T05:21:00.001-07:00

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

2009-04-04T05:04:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-03T06:16:00.001-07:00

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!

2009-04-02T07:46:00.000-07:00

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???

2009-04-01T08:31:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-31T01:52:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-30T22:03:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-03-30T08:07:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-30T08:01:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-26T09:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-26T02:05:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-23T07:42:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-23T06:51:00.001-07:00

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

2009-03-22T08:22:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-03-20T01:11:00.000-07:00

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

Nihn Bihn, Vietnam: Day 2

2009-03-19T20:54:00.001-07:00

What an incredible day. I rented a motorbike, invited a German girl (Christina) from my guesthouse to hop on (quite spontaneously), and we zipped through the Vietnamese countryside, exploring to our hearts' content, mostly well off the beaten path. It was absolutely stunning!

Nihn Bihn, Vietnam: Day 1

2009-03-19T20:26:00.000-07:00

I take the morning train from Hanoi, arrive by 12:30, rent a motorbike (my first time in Vietnam - yikes!), and head for the countyside. I find small villages set amidst stunning landscapes, and people of all ages who cannot stop smiling at me and saying "Hello!" as I pass by.

I also find some room to be with and release some of the grief I have around the Vietnam War. Walking away from that girl after she held up her peace sign I thought, "It could have been her. It was her." And I cried, and 50 feet down the path from her rural home I came upon a cemetery, and their I wept.

Later explored pagodas and caves, and was fed cane juice, offered daughters to marry, and mobbed by ecstatic children. It was a wonderful day, so much of what I've been looking for here!

Krouzman Health & Travel Update

2009-03-17T07:41:00.000-07:00

Folks, I am on the mend! My immune system and indominatable will ;-) aided by modern medicine are kicking the shit out of the bacteria that have decided to make my body home, for a bit anyway.

My fever is gone. Now I'm just somewhat tired, and the tummy, that I don't think will feel right until I get back to the land of water treatment plants and refrigeration.

Actually within a few days I'll be adding an application to my blog that will give you a real-time readout of my pulse rate, blood pressure and temperature. And, for the medical experts and hypochondriacs among you, my White Blood Cell count, Neutrphil count, and even an hourly update on my C Reactive Proteins! If you have an i-Phone you'll be able to download their new "Jewish Mother" application, which will flash these real-time readouts on your screen every 15 minutes. Pretty neat!

My quick rebound here has added some wind to my sails! I had a fun day today strolling Hanoi, eating some good non-spicy food, talking to the awesome sisters who run the guesthouse I'm staying at, and hanging out with a couple of awesome Slovenians I met on my tour of Halong Bay.

We made a series of Vietnamese Travel Industry Safety videos, improv style, on the street. Super fun, and really good I think. Perhaps I've found a little comedy nitch? God there is so much safety related material here, from non existant guard rails to rusty guard rails to psychotic drivers and impossibly difficult cross walks stalked by psyochotic dirvers. It has been fun.

Tomorrow I'm taking a train 3 hours south of this madness to Nihn Bihn, a large town in a rural area that is supposed to be quite beautiful: rice paddies, limestone mountains jutting like teeth from verdant valleys (how poetic Roni), caves, temples...all the good stuff. I'll be sure to give you a full report.

Then It's back to Hanoi, and a flight to Hue, a city on Vietnam's north central coast, and then from there down to Hoi An and the surrounding area, which is supposed to be beautiful. It's after that that I'll visit My Lai (see previous post), and then perhaps head to the mountains around Dalat before dropping into the teeming city of Saigon. Whoa!

Then almost certainly Cambodia and the ruins of Angkor Wat, which everyone says are profoundly stunning. If everyone says so then I have to go!

And then back to Thailand and a trip to the south, to beautiful, relaxing islands and beaches. Oh my!

So lucky, lucky me to have the freedom and the means to do this. And also lucky me to have such a rich life and amazing people to come home to when it's time! I'll be so excited to see you and any babies you have or may have by then. :-)

Much love,
Roni

Sick, Again - But I'm OK!

2009-03-16T06:05:00.000-07:00

Oh God fucking damn it. Krouzman is sick again.

At least that's what his gut and his thermometer say (100.2).

Also the doctor he saw tonight says so.

Vietnamese Doctor: "Yes, you have a GI bacterial infection."

Me: "Wow, how do you know that without running blood tests?"

Him: "Well, from the exam I just gave you (open mouth, breathe, allow me to touch your abdomen gently), and because everyone who comes back from where you just came back from (Halong Bay) gets a GI bacterial infection. [Deadpan] Sorry I didn't tell you before you went."

Me: (That would have been pretty incredible since we just met 6 minutes ago) Yeah.

And I knew this. I KNEW this. EVERY lunch and dinner they served us for 3 days included the same shitty prawns and the same crappy squid and the same oddly colored beef. But what the fuck was I going to do, not eat - on a boat?

So fuck. My spirits are good and I'm fine right now and I bet I'll be fine. I may be feeling OK about it because of the Vietnamese nurses I met tonight, who smile and giggle just as sweetly and coyishly as Thai nurses.

Also I'm a pro by now. Got my own private little pharmacy going, and I can even read blood tests! WBC count, Neutrophils. You know, all that shit.

It's funny when you first say you are going to Asia, no one says, "You know I got deathly ill there when I went. Be careful!"

They say, "Awesome. I LOVE Lao! or "Ooh, you'll LOVE Thailand!"

It's only when you call them from the hospital that they say, "Yeah, I got deathly ill there when I went there. I even threw up blood!"

So I'm back at my guesthouse in Hanoi, which is about as good a place to relax and recoup as Times Square. But I did find a sticky rice lady around the corner who peddles the meals I'm apt to eat for the next few days for 28 cents. That should offset the blood test fees.

Tomorrow I will tell you more about Halong Bay, which, as the tour guides say, is indeed "very beautiful." I'll give you a little status update too.

One thing I will say is I'm looking forward to the day soon when:
* I don't carry around an emergency kit with me everywhere I go
* I can eat food and drink water and not worry they could kill me (go figure)
* I go back to pooping once a day, one medium-large log, one medium-small log. Right now it's like thrice daily, 6 mis-shapen pellets at a time. I feel like a fucking deer.

Alright peeps, I'm gonna head up to my fifth floor walk up soon, pop some tylenol, and get some sleep.

Love,
Roni

Whoa, Hanoi

2009-03-12T06:50:00.000-07:00

I'll say it again: Hanoi is totally nuts.

I feel like a Vietnamese peasant farmer dropped smack down in mid-town Manhattan. Where to begin? Actually, where the fuck am I???

The city is like New York if it didn't have rules and the people were lots shorter.

Driving
Let's start with the driving. Many of you have driven with me, and you know I like to push it some in that area. To me, some weaving and even honking here and there is called for and even fun. But these people take it to a whole new level. They swarm like fish on their motorbikes. And they do not stop honking.

I've seen 3 accidents in 24 hours. Traffic lights are suggestions. Actually, they're not even that: they're just flashing lights. Crossing the street is an act of faith.

Today I actually got a lift on the back of a motorbike. And you know what? It was actually fun and not scary. I may - MAY - rent a motorbike for a day here, but don't count on it.

Walking the Streets
Let's move on to streets and alleys. Whoa, narrow. Whoa, crazy. Super bustling. Tiny little outdoor eateries everywhere. This means a grandma ladling hot soup over rice noodles and people sitting on tiny plastic stools and tiny plastic tables. Sort of like all the locals are relegated to the kids tables. A bowl of rice noodle soup with chicken (yum!) costs 60 cents. Then there are woman carrying super heavy baskets hanging from bamboo poles slung over their shoulders, full of everything from fresh pineapples or oranges to water chestnuts and lots of nondescript items.

The Food...
...is quite good, and I'm just getting started. As I mentioned, a good bowl of soup (Pho) is a classic, dependable stand by. I'm stoked on trying some more seafood.

Oh yeah, and regarding those restaurants: I think Manhattan has something like 2 million people and 1,000 restaurants. Hanoi has like 3.5 million people and must have 10 times that many.

Last night I sat down for some Vietnamese BBQ. They give you a plate of raw beef and veggies, light a large super hot candle under a skillet, and you're on your own. Of course, as it's South East Asia, there seems to be a good amount of fruit here too. Here I am eating a pineapple like it's ice cream. Yum! I've also had a lot of ice cream. 30 cents a cone!

Police...
...are quite present. I thought about this today and thought, "Damn paranoid Commies." Then I realized New York has far more police in its streets. These cops are kind of scary, but not that scary. They look like guys in their late teens dressed up like police-soldiers for Halloween. Yesterday I actually witnessed a little police raid against the bamboo basket ladies. Who would go after the bamboo basket ladies?! In any case they nabbed a couple.

Someone told me that most things run on extortion here, and I believe it, because basically it seems like most things most people are doing most of the time - like driving like maniacs, or selling prawns out of their pockets - must be illegal.

Lakes
There are several lakes in Hanoi. I've visited only one, numerous times. It's a relative respite from the craziness. Lonely Planet says there are 6 foot long turtles in the lake. Yesterday I saw this man doing Thai Chi on its shores. I've heard - OK, Lonely Planet says - there are a string of great seafood restaurants on the shores of a far bigger lake in the city, which I hope to check out.

The Language
I haven't learned one word of Vietnamese and I'm not sure why. I learned some Thai and Lao super quick. I think it's because Vietnamese don't actually speak Vietnamese, so you never here what it's supposed to sound like. Either that or in Hanoi, at least, they dispense with formalities like "Hello" and "Thank you" and skip straight to pointing and shouting.

And Finally, Shameless Hauranging, AKA, Leave me the Fuck Alone
I'm not sure how you spell hauranging, but I know there are thousands of people in this city who do it to you NON STOP. I can't walk 10 feet without being 'offered' a motorbike ride or 'invited' into a restaurant. I use those words loosely because damn are the people doing the offering and inviting aggressive. Here's how it goes:
Me: Doo doo doo
Vietnamese Man: YOU. {Points at me) MOTORBIKE.
Me: Who, me? Oh no thank you.
VM: MOTORBIKE RIDE.
Me: No, really, I'm just going for stroll.
VM: YES. MOTORBIKE.
Me: NO THANK YOU.
VM: Marijuana?
My fucking god. If they tried this shit in New York, they'd get punched in the face. I must say though that when the very pretty prostitute road straight up to me tonight and said, "Hey Mr, you want boom boom with me?" I really didn't mind. I mean shit of course I wanted to hop on the back of her motorbike. Maybe start off with a little ride around the city, then get some tea and see if we hit if off. I don't think that's what she had in mind. If she did, well, I missed my first big chance in Vietnam.

I love and probably miss you,
Roni

ps - Since arriving here 2 days ago, I've received numerous questions from many of you. Rather than answer each individually, I've decided to pick a few of the most common and respond below.

Frequently Asked Questions re: Roni's First 48 hours in Hanoi

Q: Is is true that on your first morning you opened the window, snickered and shouted, more subdued than you would have liked, "Gooooood morning Vietnammmmm!"?
A: Yes.

Q: And is is true you video'd yourself doing that?
A: Maybe. OK yes.

Q: Finally, is it true that today you couldn't open your the door to your room and made the poor old guest house owner climb 5 flights of stairs to show you how to turn a key?
A: Come on now. That's ridiculous.

pps - I thought this was funny. It's the Friendship and Cultural Center, or some shit, probably funded by China or the former USSR. God, it just feels, so, friendly.

Holy Shit

2009-03-10T08:49:00.000-07:00

Hanoi is nuts. Nuts! And I'm loving it. If not a bit overwhelmed.

Remember all that war stuff I wrote about? That's like ALL people can talk about here. I was called baby killer like 12 times tonight.

Not. Not not not.

I was offered 12 motorbike rides and lots of weed, and boy are they aggressive here.

So quick first impressions before I go off to sleep in my posh $18 a night downtown room.

We fly our Lao airlines prop plane, and somehow, live. I meet 2 Brits and we decide to form a little combat team to penetrate the Taxi phalanx. Yeah right. They pluck us like fish in a barrel.

He drives like a maniac. They all do. Cattle cross the highway. People cross the highway.

We bet 3-0 our taxi driver will not pull a scheme and will indeed take us to the proper hostel we requested. We lose.

We are taken to a 'hostel' with a similar name. This is a common scheme.

A man in a suit tries to open the taxi door and pull the Brit out. The Brit locks the door. The driver unlocks it. The Brit locks it again. The other Brit yells. I'm like, people, let's calm down. Driver, I know you know English, take us to the right place.

After some fuss, he does. We are dropped off in a crazy busy part of town. We check in.

I walk around in a daze. Burning Lao? Burning Lao was a campout. This is the real thing.

It's like New York, on crack. There are people everywhere. Sitting on tiny plastic stools eating delicious soups and various grilled items. Everywhere. Damn it I wish I packed that extra stomach.

Also they are all wearing these cool Asian pants called 'Jeans'. Damn me for not listening to my gut and instead listening to my hippie friends who said you don't need jeans in Asia. Yes, you do need jeans in Asia. You need jeans everywhere you go. If you went to a remote village in Burundi, you'd need jeans. You think villagers in Burundi wear tribal garb? You think Vietnamese people walk around in bamboo hats? No, they don't. And they sure as fuck don't wear Thai pants.

In any case, this place, so far, feels awesome. The energy is dizzying. The people seem cosmopolitan yet friendly. But they drive like fucking maniacs, or artists on shrooms. In any case there is no proper way to cross the street. Swarms of bikes and motorbikes weave by. All you can do, really, is just say a little prayer and hope for the best. Or you're not getting to the other side.

I love cities. So much. Laos was sweet, but it's a backwater. I feel like a farmer from Mars who was just plucked in the East Village.

A final word on traveling the 'beaten path'. I've been kind of criticizing myself for doing that, and then someone read my blog and basically says the same thing.

But wait a sec. If someone went to America and visited New York, Washington, the Grand Canyon, then hit LA, drove up highway 1, visited SF, then Muir woods, and finished up at Yosemite, you'd say, "Nice trip dude!" You wouldn't say, "Uh, Loser! That's what EVERYONE does. Cool people visit Oklahoma, Alabama, Detroit." No you wouldn't say that. Same goes for here. Yes i can ride my motorbike 80 miles to some village that's about as exciting as Wichitaw. Why? To say I did that. Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb.

Obviously I'm being a bit extreme. But you're getting me.

Really I want all the big stuff, plus the cool, inside job stuff. But how do you get the inside stuff? It took me 4 years of living in the Bay Area to find Fairfax, and 3 years of living in Fairfax to find Ana Sia. I have maybe a month in Vietnam. I'm gonna have to be a really lucky bastard to find the inside stuff.

OK I wil find some I hope. If you know anyone in Hanoi - anyone - let me know.

End disjointed crack-head post,
Roni

ps - a posse of 12 Vietnamese teenagers just walked in to this internet joint, which charges 65 cents an hour and is open all night. I like.

Where Dreams and Nightmares Live

2009-03-09T23:45:00.000-07:00

God I'm being such a crabby bitch today! It's totally not that time of the month for me, so I don't know what's going on.

I am heading to Vietnam in a few hours, so that for sure is going on.

I know that leaving one place and arriving in an unfamiliar place always brings up anxiety for me. But I think there's more here.

I think it's the fact that I'm going to Vietnam, which is at once extraordinarily exciting (surprisingly so) to me, and also somewhat unnerving.

When I sat in the cave 3 days ago, the most unexpected of the 3 messages that came through was, "Dreams and nightmares live in the same place. Go there."

It was very clear. I don't fully get it yet, and that may be what this next part of the journey is about. Living that.

Because it has become clear to me during the past few days that dreams and nightmares are indeed what Vietnam is all about for me.

Dreams of bright green rice paddies in lush, terraced valleys. Farmers in traditional dress walking on narrow paths behind oxen. Bustling cities, women dressed in red riding amidst a swarm of bicycles. A rich culture, a strong, proud people.

Nightmares of war. Of napalmed children running naked down a dirt road. Of night after night of carpet bombing in the cities. Of zippo raids and machine guns and landmines. Of one day in 1968 when a US army company entered the hamlet of My Lai, rounded up a few hundred women, children and old people, and machine gunned them into ditches. Later another commander was quoted as saying that every US company had its own version of My Lai.

So nightmares. And dreams. And this place in the world where they seem to collide for me. And the place in my heart where they intersect.

And living from that place on this journey. Taking in those lush rice paddies and stunning harbors and strong, proud people. Experiencing a wildly new culture. And also feeling the grief I feel, the anguish, over what my government did to those people. Going to the War Remnants Museum in Saigon. Visiting My Lai and perhaps laying flowers at the memorial. Saying to someone, anyone, a grandmother who lost her sons, "I am so sorry for what my government did to you. I was not even born but I feel a lot of grief over it. May it never happen again and may our two people continue to heal and to forgive."

I was born 2 years after the last US troops left Vietnam, and yet this sits so strongly with me. Even a desire to be forgiven.

In part I think because since middle school I've been entranced by the war, and knew, without a doubt, that if I was alive back then I would have been a leader against the war. I wanted so much to have been alive back then.

Perhaps past lives are at play here. Certainly some of my own history with violence is, and it would probably help for me to remember that. And also the history my family in Europe suffered through. Because some of them were also shot into the graves they dug themselves.

And perhaps I am projecting some dark, hidden parts of myself onto Vietnam and what happened there. Some parts I prefer not to see but that terrify me and certainly come out in my dreams. Some parts maybe I need to seek forgiveness for, most likely from myself.

This may sound unnecessarily depressing. To meet it is not. To me it is very real, and rich, and it is what is coming up. It does not dominate - the main thrust for me is adventure and exploration of a beautiful new land. And the grief part is there too, and the mystery that surrounds it.

So I'll go with all of it and live it as fully as I can or want to, and we'll see how it plays out. I'm excited, and of course I'll keep you posted. In less than 5 hours I'll be in Hanoi!

Much love,
Roni

I Seek and I Find...Burning Lao!

2009-03-09T05:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a rather extraordinary day. It landed me at the Lao version of Burning Man, locally known simply as, the "Boon" (as in a haughty British man saying 'Burn').

The day after Cave tells me that if I keep seeking I will find - even if I don't know what I'm seeking - I decide to go seeking. What for I have no idea.

Well, I do know it's International Women's Day, and I've heard there are lots of parties. I rent a ridiculous pink Chinese girls bike for a buck 80 and ride 2 miles to the local market. It's pretty dead.

When I go pay the nice man who minded my bike his 23 cents, he says, "Nam", which means river, and sort of wiggles his hips and smiles.

OH God, not another man proposi - OH, wait. I think he means there's a party at the 'Nam'!

Me: Party the Nam?
Him: Smile and nod.
Me: Where?
Him: Smile and nod.
Me: There?
Him: Smile and nod.
Me: 2 kilometers.
Him: Smile and nod.

I take off pedaling on my small, one gear, Chinese girls bike toward the great Nam. Soon I believe I am lost. I consult my Lao phrase book to find the words 'women', 'international' or 'day'. 1 for 3. No dice.

I do find the word for festival. It's pronounced, more or less, Boon.

I spot a very cute Lao girl and ask, 'Boon'?

She's like, 'No. Boon in December.'

I'm like, 'No. Boon in March!'

She's like, 'No. Boon in December.'

I'm like, 'Want a ride on the back of my girl's bike?'

She's line, 'No.'

I turn around and head back toward the Nam. I start seeing lots of young people heading somewhere in motorbikes. I follow. I'm not really thinking about whether I'll get there, I'm just pedaling, furiously.

The pavement turns into a bumpy, hilly dirt road. It fills with more and more motorbikes.

'Boon?!' I ask.

And people actually start pointing - in the direction I'm heading! Plus they smile, because I'm riding a pink Chinese girls bike I think, as they speed past on their Hondas and Yamahas and Suzukis.

2 miles down the road I stop at a restaurant. 3 of the owners are enjoying lunch.

Me: 'Sa bye dee! Boon?'

Them: Expressions I take to mean, hey you, we have no idea what you're talking about, stop saying Boon and have some of this whiskey and shellfish with us.

OK, I do.

I pedal on. The road grows increasingly worse, and hilly, and crowded with motorbikes and not tuk tuks and flatbed trucks carrying 10, 12 people and giant cases of Beer Lao. I think I'm on to something.

I keep pedaling. It's been 4 miles. I must reach the 'Boon'!

I ride on. It is super hot. I am sweating profusely. I don't know how far it is or where I'm really even going.

And then suddenly, there, in front of me, is the beautiful Nam Ou river, and tents and parked motorbikes and at least 1,000 people. I have arrived, at Burning Lao!

I am so excited. And so dirty, and wet with sweat. I lock my Chinese girls bike to a tree and walk into the 'Boon'!

Immediately I buy water and a sweet treat at Center Camp. All around people are camped by the river, eating, drinking and singing.

I walk around sort of dazed. Holy shit, I'm at Burning Lao!

People smile at me was I walk by. 'Hey, get a look of the tall freak with the shaved head and Thai pants. God don't they have jeans in his country?!'

I wade through a very large puddle and past Lao people galore. Suddenly, I come upon, my god...2 Americans! They are with a very sweet Lao guy named Gai (pronounced Guy, which means chicken in Lao, and I say so, and he says so).

Of course we become instant friends. Its sort of the rules in those circumstances. We are the only 3 white people there. Fuck probably the only 3 people who weren't born within 25 miles of the place. (I have yet to meet one Lao person who has been outside of Lao).

Immediately they serve me grilled river fish, rice and salad. OMG I was so hungry after riding old 1-gear 5 miles up and down that dirt road.

We are surrounded by people. The women are clearly in charge, at least on this day. They are drinking like fish, putting me to shame, to shame, and even putting their men to shame.

I head over to the dance area. Glitch Mob is spinning and Ana Sia is about to jump on for a guest set. Sweet!

Why doesn't Ana Sia just officially join the Glitch Mob, I wonder? And why doesn't she ever smile?

No really, I think, I am at an 8th grade dance. People in South East Asia, most of them anyway, are super shy dancers. And the music is way cheesy pop.

I walk up to the crowd. I am immediately pulled in by a man who thrusts me in front of a woman who seems quite happy to be dancing with me.

Other people surrounded me. We are all very happy.

As soon as a song ends, people run off the dance floor like rats fleeing a flood. They are so shy!

So I run along too, and a college student pulls me over to her table, where I sit next to some guy who gives me beer. And more beer.

Ya'll know I don't really drink. But I did, and that, with the heat, well, it did enough.

The music starts again. I get the 'let's dance' look from the girl. We do. She tells me to buy her a beer. I say I have no money on me. Which is true! God this feels awkward. She seems momentarily disappointed, but quickly brushes it off. I dance with her, and other girls, and guys, and lots of people.

I head back to our camp. I take off most of my clothes and swim in the river and do my best to fend off all the beer these bad ass cuties are offering me.

So, some similarities between our Burning Man and Burning Lao:
* People camp in big groups
* People share lots of food
* People drink a lot
* The ride home is dusty and gross

Unlike our Burning Man, theirs:
* Includes a river
* Is free

Unlike theirs, ours:
* Lasts 8 days
* Features sex, giant butterflies and lots more dancing

Other than that, it's basically the same thing. OK really it's not.

But it was awesome, a very real Lao experience.

And here's the strange thing. For some reason, for the past week here in Lao, when some kids would approach me and giggle and I'd pull out the old video camera and not understand one word they were saying, I'd inevitable say, "So who here has been to Burning Man?" And they'd smile and nod and I'd ask what camp they were at, how they liked it and all that.

And then, yesterday, I come across the 'Boon' of the season, at the Great Nam. Burning Lao. I wonder what their Decompression is like?!

Much love,
Roni

ps - No way I was going to ride my Chinese girls bike 5 miles home down that road. So I hopped into the back of a truck with a Lao family who strapped my bike to their roof and charged me 4 bucks for a lift into town. Rip off, but what the fuck.

Goodbye Luang Prapang

2009-03-09T03:37:00.000-07:00

Wow the Israeli girl to my left is stunning.

My last full day in Lao, an especially lazy one. Just what I wanted.

So I'll share a few details and show you some pics of this town. And then it's off to eat a dessert crepe I think and maybe by buy another silver bracelet.

At some point I also need to get the guy I bought my Vietnam VISA for me to find the guy who has the key to the safe where they stored my VISA. They keep saying come back in an hour with their cute little Lao smiles. That's how it works here.

I began my morning (around 11am) with a mixed fruit shake. Oh baby. So yum! They are the bomb in Lao. You just gotta make sure the ice they are using comes from treated water.

This is about as verifiable as Ohio's 2004 election returns. But the shakes are so good that when the nice Lao man says 'Yes' (as they do to anything you ask them), you quickly run through a dizzying array of possible consequences (from diarreah to hospitalization), delude yourself, and order a large one.

After my potentially bacteria-ridden shake, I hit the internet for a bit and discovered my good friend Sarah's aunt Dex and her husband James were in a cafe maybe 75 feet away. Whoa.

So we meet up, in Lao. Hi Sarah! We love you!!!

Dex and James were great, indulging me with Vietnam travel advice and smiles that made me certain they were indeed related to Sarah. Also they kindly gave 6 Vietnamese stamps should I want to send postcards, and bought me the worst orange juice I've had since arriving in South East Asia. Hey, 1 for 2 ain't bad.

No really Dex and James are awesome. After hangin' with them, it was a slow stroll, buying another scarf, a visit to the bookshop, loungin' and sipping another fruit shake back at Utopia (see previous post), taking my daily late afternoon shower, and getting propositioned, again.

Just kidding. About the scarf.

So Lao. It was good, but not great. I like this town, but it is kind of touristy. I could have dove deeper, but I wasn't feeling moved to. That said, the Mekong was sweet, boating, fruit shakes, lounging, waterfalls, and attending Burning Lao! That rocked. (See next post).

Most of all I think getting a feel for the Lao people was the best part. They are so friendly and sweet, though some of the ones in the tourist industry are just shameless in their schemes to rip you off. The friendliness makes up for it, as does the prettiness of the women.

Alright friends, it is time to move on from here.

Much love and more to come,
Roni

ps - I'm drinking a Coke right now. For dinner I had bread (holy shit!), a salad (holier shit!), and a (crappy) crepe with ham and cheese. I may need to indulge my Western taste buds from time to time on such a long voyage. Toss the 'may' actually. This evening I honestly caught myself wondering if Hanoi has a McDonald's. Oh God.

I'm Going to Fucking Vietnam!

2009-03-07T07:10:00.000-08:00

That's right, you heard it here first! I didn't want to get scooped by any other blogs.

Just 5 minutes ago, I handed a very nice young man $180 in cash. He promissed that by Monday he would have ready a 30-day VISA and a plane ticket to Hanoi. Then he sort of darted his eyes around furtively and took off down an alley.

No really the guy was great. He was maybe 25 and handsome in the way virtually all Lao men are. But he didn't proposition me! What gives?!

His friend did say he liked my sideburns however, and the nice young man agreed. I said I liked his sideburns. He pointed out they weren't really sideburns. We sort of looked awkwardly at each other. Actually that was when he did the eye thing and took off down the alley.

In any case, I'm going to Vietnam! It was a very impulsive decision. I'll spare you the whole 'my soul has known for lifetimes that I'm going to Vietnam and my ego just started catching up a few days ago' shtick, even though it's true, cu's it's too late for that bullshit and I'm not in the mood.

I was in the mood to see caves though today (good segue, Krouzman. Once again he compliments himself, and for segues - god this is getting old. Now he's gonna pull the whole cute dialogue with himself or us or whoever thing, like he's doing now, to try to score points for the overuse of the segue thing, and for the lack of pictures on this post. Now we're supposed to be laughing because he's supposedly making fun of himself for making fun of himself. OK now he will stop. Thank god), so I gathered 3 random peeps off the street, pulled my Jedi mind trick shit on them, and convinced them they too wanted to see caves. I then slipped into Israeli mode and found a cheap deal from a local boatman, who steered us 2 hours up the Mekong (sa-weet!) to the Pak Ou caves, where thousands of old buddha statues sort of sit vigil in an eirie silence.

On the way I was having one of my existential crises about my soul and what he fuck I'm doing and all that shit, cus' part of me thinks I need to be alone and walk through darkness for a while. So going to the caves was, well, quite apropos. I found a quiet, dark spot and sat like a good little buddha and asked the caves questions (silently). Some people were scared of me, others were sort of freaked, and the rest I think were only somewhat frightened.

In any case, as I'm having this conversation, a few women and a man (I had my eyes closed but I think they were the acro-yoga circus performer Thai massage students, for real) start to sing and chant incredibly beautifully. Shit like that doesn't happen in Lao.

So here's what the cave says. It says:
* Your worst nightmares and wildest dreams live in the same place (oh fuck, really?!)
* Keep searching and you will find (sweet!)
* Hey, look at you all comfy with the dark. You are learning to feel your way through the dark! (uh, sweet!)

Hey, 2 for 3 ain't bad. Then we floated back home.

It was quite the day. In addition to choosing my next travel step and talking to God (JK, big guy!), I:
* Participated in a Next Generation Board meeting by Skype
* Ate my first pizza in maybe 2 months (yes!)
* Spoke French, English, Spanish, Thai and Lao
* Watched 'Revolutionary Road,' which is basically about following your soul / true calling (what?!)
* Bought 2 silk scarves (you can't walk 10 feet through Asia without being offered stunning silk scarves, and I can't walk 10 feet without buying a couple)

Now I'm drinking a coke and writing you.

So this Vietnam thing. I won't get all sappy or deep on you. Not yet!

I will say that at the little travel agency place I felt a little like Eddie Murphy's character in 'Coming to America' when he's trying to decide where he'll find his bride. Remember the whole globe spinning dealio?

So I'm like, uh, yeah - I mean, Yes! - let's go to Vietnam! How about, Hanoi?! Isn't there a nice Hilton there?

It saddens me that only one of you get the Hilton thing (and he's not reading cus' he just a baby), and way too few get the Eddie thing (love you guys!). Please google both (I know almost none of you will, but a few will, and you will love the Hilton thing. You will.).

In any case if you know anything I should know about Vietnam, please email me asap. Besides remembering something about a little skirmish I think we waged there a few years back, I really know very little.

My friends, after a rollercoaster of a day, spirits are high here aboard ship Krouzman. (Ship Krouzman? You sure you ain't taking those Tuk Tuk drivers up on their H offers? Yes. Mostly. OK, no.)

I love you all! Most of you (hey, it's true).

Roni

ps - Hey scroll down a bit and look-see how I changed the name of my post a few days ago from 'Now We're Talkin'!' to "Lao We're Talkin'!" Get it?! So clever. If Lao ever gets its act together I'm gonna encourage it to drop the dumb 'S' the French put at the end of their name, to stem the confusion AND give their tourism bouard plenty to work with, like:
* Lao...Holy Cow!
* Wow! Lao!
* ah I can't fucking think of a funny third one.

pps - I'm disappointed in how few comments you've left on my blog. Yes you. There, I said it.

ppps - God sometimes you just can't fucking beat a Coca-Cola.

Water, oh water...and I'm propositioned for sex!

2009-03-06T04:12:00.000-08:00

I sat down and cried when I first saw the Mekong river. I'm not sure why.

She slips silently through the Lao countryside, even wider than I thought. She is indeed a lifeline, with people fishing in her, bathing, and using her for travel.

She is also rather dirty. And she is beautiful.

My second day here in Laos, a sweet girl Rachel and I, who I met on the plane (first cute and cool girl I've sat next to on a plane since 1985 despite probably 100 flights logged since then) chartered a boat to take us down the Mekong.

Ett, our driver, is 28, and he and I conversed in broken English, Lao and Thai. He didn't know Hebrew. What?!

He lives on the 7-foot wide by 30-foot long boat with his wife and and two small children. The thing is pretty loud and spews diesel smoke. Wow, what a different life.

Ett piloted us close to an hour downriver, past villages and villagers and rice paddies and hillsides and fisherman. It was divine. I had to bring a coconut, mainly for effect! Plus playing the Star Wars theme song as we pushed off - that was great as always.

20 miles or so downriver, we docked, walked through a small village, smiled with a super cute little girl (Lao children are incredibly adorable), and hopped in the back of a pick up. We were driven 10 miles to the most stunning series of waterfalls I have ever seen. It was magestic.

I rented a motorbike today and returned to the falls. At the base, I bought a grilled Mekong fish and sticky rice. I swam and ogled and climbed and perched on a branch high above the biggest fall. Mmm...

Then I sat alone in a meadow, where a Lao guy with a coy smile on his face who was maybe in his early 20s (it's pretty impossible to tell the age of South East Asians, I think. If they are young they are far younger than they look. I think it's the other way around once they cross a certina age threshold. In any case he was about as old as the girl I hooked up with at Burning Man, I hope, on both fronts) suddenly comes up to me, looks at me, sticks up his middle finger and wiggles it and sort of motions to the shrubbery. I'm like, "Ex-squeeze me?!" Actually, please don't. "No thanks." Again. "NO thanks." He walks off and looks back at me with that coy smile, still motioning. Can someone say, awkward?!

So my first time getting propositioned in South East Asia, besides hookers. I'm all for it, provided next time it's a cute woman who wants to take it maybe 3 times slower.

Much Love,
Roni

Lao We're Talkin'

2009-03-05T07:39:00.000-08:00

I dipped into the real Lao today, and it was great.

It didn't start that way. It started with skype calls and farang lane here in Luang Prapang, and a jaunt to the acro-yoga thai massage compound. Which was fine, and included a dip in a local river. Oooh that current was fast!

That's where the local experience began. Lots of local people bathe and swim in the Mekong and other rivers.

On my way back from the compound, the chain on my Chinese girls bike fell off. As I struggled to fix it, 3 Lao kids came up to me and started to help. Then a few more gathered round, and before I knew it there were 8 little 7 to 11 year olds all gathered round the farnang with the cowboy hat, giggling and letting me take their pictures and then gawking at the videos I shot of them (no they weren't dirty you sickos).

At one point I ran out of Lao words to say (which doesn't take long when you have a vocabulary of 5 words), so I popped out my phrase book and started to point to body parts like my nose and head and say those, and they loved it and a few knew the words in English too. Oooh that was so sweet and fun.

After playing with the kids, I rode my bike down the dirt road and back to the main road, of sorts anyway, and happened upon a truly local market. To me with things are more enjoyable than visiting a market, especially when I'm travelling.

This one was great. I bought some veggies, drew lots of attention as the tall (relatively) white guy with the shaved head and cowboy hat, and also tried to decipher what dead carcass of an animal one woman was selling. I popped out my Lao phrasebook and tried dog? cat? bear? Nope. I never did find out. I'll spare you the gruesome photo. But not the video! Coming by June 2009, suckers.

The market felt different than a Thai market, far simpler and closer to the ground but just as rich and vibrant. I topped off the experience by buying a plastic bag (everything is in plastic bags here) of freshly squeezed sugar cane over ice. Yum. I didn't want to risk drinking any once sufficient ice had melted, so I gave the bag to a kid, who seemed to enjoy it.

It's experiences like this that feed me and give me hope. And yet they feel hard to plan. It's like they happen or they don't, sometimes in big waves, sometimes in tiny trickles.

I have this idea of really interacting with the culture, but that's tough when you travel, because I speak 5 words of Lao and after a while smiling and nodding becomes, well, the end. So what to do?! Just keep goin' with it I guess. And keep snapping this ooh Roni's so off the beaten path shot wherever I go. This one I just photoshopped from my Costa Rica trip. Not bad eh?

More to come. Much love!
Roni

ps - All this said, I will eat a hamburger, see a movie, and maybe even go bowling before I leave Luang Prapang! A buffalo burger!

pps - My friend Mia is travelling through Asia and her blog rocks. http://miamatthews.blogspot.com I get paid $10 for each new visitor, so please do hit it up. Thanks.

Goin' With It

2009-03-05T07:19:00.000-08:00

I'll start by telling you I feel very, very happy and content right now. There is a sweet grin on my face. It is a perfect summer evening here.

I am wearing my awesome new flip flops (no reason to where anything else here, as it's hot and you often need to remove your shoes when entering homes / businesses, which I love), thai pants (so comfy), my favorite wife teaser (I thought 'beater' was too rough and my friend Rae's suggestion of 'pleaser', well, too soft), and a beautiful silver bracelet I bought myself two nights ago. In case you were wondering.

So much to my delight, I found some of the real Lao today, and also came to accept and embrace more of the farang Lao. Here's how it came to be.

I started my day by dealing with Next Generation business, and having a great conversation with my dear friend Liam Bowler, who was about to embark on a 4-week adventure of his own. I told him I was having another of my sort of existential crises on the road, like, "What the fuck am I doing here? Am I here to have fun? To test myself? Why do I constantly need to test myself? OK then am I here to hang out with cute acro-yogi body worker arial dancers and try to get them to like me? Shit I do enough of that at home! So what Bowler?! What???"

It actually felt great to vent some of this. And then Liam actually had a great point (so rare! just kidding!), which is that sometimes we seek context in order to rationalize and get away from the direct experience.

This point really landed with me. And I realized a bit more deeply what I've been realizing for a while now, that while some context is good, this constant need to understand and seek can be quite anxiety provoking. Especially since in recent months, I've come a long way in being able to relax and go with the flow and see where that leads. Needing to understand it all sometimes leads me back to a middle of turbulence.

So why am I here? I still don't know really. Most of this trip, that's been A-OK. Sometimes is sort of comes to a head, as it did today, and then, ahh, a release into just going with it, which often leads to good things, which today included coconut shakes and adventures by bike and playing with Lao kids and exploring a real local market and 2 beautiful temples at sunset, and then capping it off with a walk through town and a glass noodle buffalo meat (along with another coconut shake) at a beautiful tropical farang bar / restaurant. A sweet day and night!

The richness and ease of much of this day has also increased my curiosity about this country and my desire to explore it. There is a lot here, for sure. We'll see what I uncover.

Alright my friends,
much love to you wherever you are,
Roni

ps - There was a hidden agenda to my choice of buffalo meat tonight, and that is to justify the hamburger, most likely buffalo burger actually, I think I will need to eat sometime over the next few days. South East Asian food is awesome, but fuck I want a burger!

A Message from Roni

2009-03-04T07:47:00.000-08:00

Dear friends of Roni - This is Roni's friend Bob writing to let you know that Roni is missing. We believe he has been abducted by a group of 30 female acro-yogis and Thai massage students. We believe he is being held on their communal farm somewhere upriver from Laung Prapang, Laos. Earlier this evening, we received a video message from Roni's captors (too gruesome to show here) showing Roni lounging amidst 30 beauties sipping a coconut mango shake and talking about Burning Man. He appeared happy, excited even, however we believe he was acting to placate his captors. I will do everything in my power to free Roni, and to keep you posted while this crisis unfolds. I ask for your prayers for Roni. Below is the last message I received from Roni, just minutes ago. Bob

-----

Hi Bob!

It's Roni. Wow, what a strange day! First I spend an hour on Skype trying to save Next Generation during a crisis. Then I walk the streets of this Lao town and have some lunch. Then I say, I want to cross that river, and I look down, and there is a bamboo bridge across the river.

So, I pay 60 cents (bastards), and cross the bamboo bridge and walk through a tiny little village and through a few Wats and then hear really, really good blues music. Sa bai di? Yes? Hello. Hello! Come on in. I walk into an old French Colonial house, really bear inside, and come upstairs to join an Aussie and 2 Germans who are listening to the great blues, smoking, drinking a beer and then playing guitar. I am invited to stay and jam.

I leave, cross the bamboo bridge, take a nap, and then walk up a hill to watch the sunset over the Mekong from an old Wat. I then meet Dani Cooperman, the sister of a guy I met in Costa Rica 2 months ago. He hooked us up, I called her, and tonight, we met. Funny thing is, I thought I was meeting his (ex?) wife, who is also named Dani, but is not his ex. Oops! Nope, I was meeting his little (30 year old) sister, who is very sweet and says, "Hey, wanna join me and my 40 massage course buddies at a restaurant/lounge called 'Utopia'?" "Well, OK, twist my arm why don't ya.'" I arrive and this place is indeed my version of utopia. It is a beautiful property, tastefully landscaped with tropical plants and stones. It features large bamboo decks with pillows and low tables. As soon as I walk in, I notice the lit beach volleyball court. LOL! I LOVE beach volleyball. I drop into this clan of 40 acro-yogi circus performer thai massage therapists. Yo Bob, I don't know how this all lands with you, but I'm guessing one third my friends back home have no idea what I mean, and the other third are split three ways between:
* Gross!
* Nice!
* and, Ooh, I wanna sign up for the course!
In any case I chat a bit, order a mango coconut shake, and then go play beach volleyball. Woo hoo! I return to the table and strike up a conversation with a gorgeous (yay) Texan (yikes) who was also a Burning Man Virgin this year (yay). I also meet other very sweet people as we lounge and sip fruit juices and eat Lao food on our pillows on the bamboo platform overlooking the river on a particularly beautiful evening. I am invited to visit the compound. And I will. I'm not sure what this has to do with my Hero's Journey through Asia. It's not like Odysseus faced any beautiful women along the way he had to resist in order to stay true to his - wait a minute. Sirens. The island of Lesbos. Oh shit - - - - -

---------

Hello friends of Roni. This is Bob again. This is where Roni's last communication cut off. Before he sent this he told me to tell his mom not to worry. He also added that he really misses hamburgers and his friends and Redwood forests and pooping normally. I will keep you all posted, and hope to furnish photos soon. Thank you, Bob

We're in Lao Now

2009-03-03T23:26:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite moments in movie history is the scene in Space Balls where Lord Helmet's main commander attempts to explain how they can be watching Space Balls the Movie at the exact moment it is being made. As those of you who have seen the movie know (the cool ones), they've put in the VHS version of the movie to see what happens in the future.

Eventually, Lord Helmet, Rick Moranis's character, becomes very confused, and the two engage in a sort of who's on first back and forth. Eventually Lord Helmet gives up on trying to understand the process and just asks, "When will then be now?"

"Soon," his commander replies.

Well, I'm sort of wondering, "When will then be Lao?"

[Roni's friends back home produce an audible groan. Some wince. A few even recoil, shake their heads and think, "Shit, Krouzman's lost his touch. That parasite must have gotten into his brain."]

OK I swear to you 15 minutes ago, while I was downing stir fried chicken and veggies over rice, the kind that would make my bretheren in Fair Lawn, NJ, proud, this whole little Space Balls intro not only sounded clever, it sounded funny and profound. I swear.

The point is, I am (somehow) writing to you from Lao, the small, improverished, landlocked country sandwhiched between Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, and Burma I think - and despite some sweet adventures (more to come), I have yet to really settle in, find the groove here.

Is there a groove here? I'm not sure, at least in the town I'm in.

I'm in Luang Prabang, which is sort of like Sausalito meets colonial France meets South East Asia. Yikes on a few levels, including the preponderance of:
* High end boutiques
* Snooty 50-something French tourists dressed in shirts and slacks
* People asking you for money all the fucking time

Oh, also, for some reason, word must have gotten out to the town's drug dealers that the farang with the nice arms, hairy chest and bad ass Burning Main cowboy hat, well he really likes all sorts of drugs - heroin, opium, marijuana - so please make it a point to offer him some incessantly. He will greatly appreciate this. Not only will it add to his trip, it will make his blog so much more interesting.

My confused head space aside, Luang Prapang is a beautiful town. French colonial architecture, narrow alleys, beautiful restaurants, silks and other crafts for sale everywhere...and it sits perched along the Mekong River.

I'm just not feelin' it so much, yet at least. But this sometimes happens when I get to a new place, and I have all the time in the world, really. So I'm just going to float around like a leaf in an eddy for a bit, and see if a little current eventually grabs hold of me here, or if one takes me elsewhere, perhaps into the Lao countryside, or to Vientam.

I've been learning this way more and more in life, and traveling pretty much open-endly is a great place to practice. I mean really, there is no place I need to be for the forseeable future.

Honestly, what is most pressing on my mind in terms of going home is being there for the beautiful seasons, which I miss. I love the rain and Spring and Summer and all of it. But thankfully these do come by every year.

And yet, despite a few passing thoughts about home, I've been in Asia for almost a month, and it has flown by, and I know I'm not coming back anytime soon. All right!

This has been a pleasant surprise. I've really not felt any terrible homesickness, though I do miss friends and things about home of course. Despite the little waves here and there though, I'm feeling quite in it here and ready for a lot more.

Right now I'm ready for a little nap.

Much love,
Roni

ps - I love learning languages. I taught myself some Thai in Thailand, including how to say hello, goodbye, thanks, how much, yes, no, what's you're name, I'm Roni, chicken, fish, rice, pork, water, little bit, gentle, stronger, and also to count to 999,999 (God it took DAYS to get all the way up to 999,999! It's what I did in the hospital to pass the time). These are pretty much all you need to know, minus "You're super cute" and "Get me out of here" maybe.

In any case, now I'm learning Lao. I can count to 999,999 (same as Thai), and say hello, thank you, water, fish, chicken, pork and rice. It's quite easy because all these words are mostly really close to Thai or exactly the same. This afternoon I will ask the nice young man 'Pan' at my guesthouse how to say, "No I don't want any fucking heroin, thank you." I think I might print up a t-shirt.

To Laos

2009-03-01T22:38:00.000-08:00

I'm at the Chiang Mai International airport, which feels more like a small, defunct mall than an aiport. But they took my bags and looked at my passport and did that typing thing into the old computer thing they like to do at airports, so I think I'm in the right place.

In any case, there is internet access here. So I get to write you, from the Chiang Mai, Thailand, International Aiport Dairy Queen computer terminal, where I just enjoyed a delicious soft serve small vanilla cone for 54 cents or so. Hey, the options here are limited...and I actually have always loved Dairy Queen!

OK, more to the point, in an hour and a half I will be on a plane to Laos! Whoa! I know very little about this country, and before a few months ago, never even thought of travelling there.

So why am I going? That's a good question.

You know most of my life the things I've done out in the world have been very clear, well ordered and with gusto! You may have noticed.

But this trip is different. My goal is not to plan the perfect vacation and see all the sights in just the right way. Which is a fine way to go, but it's not the purpose of this trip.

I'm not certain why I'm on this trip, but my soul said, You need to go. So I did. And my mind understands it as wanting to rest and refresh and expand my awareness and see beautiful things and new ways of life...and also to test myself, and grow, and perhaps heal, and to journey on my own into the unknown as a sort of rite of passage, an important step on my path.

Except I don't know what it all should look like or where it will lead! Yikes! Or more like, what?

But that's the point: to go with this, give myself to this river and see where it takes me.

I feel like I'm in a warm, dark labyrynth. A cave perhaps. It's not scary in here, no. But I am mostly alone. I know I want and need to travel through this cave. That not only will I pick up treasures along the way, and perhaps leave some things behind (as during my Vision Quest), but that it will take me where I want to go.

I feel as if I'm feeling my way through the dark. Slowly, and playfully even, with a good amount of trust that this is where I need to be, that I will be protected, and that this will serve me and others perhaps in some way.

And also that one step leads to another. Maybe I flew to Bangkok to get to a Mongolian medicine man. Who knows?!

In any case, I don't know where I'm going or how I'll get there. I just know I want to be here doing this now, need to be really. And so I am.

So Laos, why Laos? Well sometimes something bubbles up from our souls and we just repeat it and mull it over and come to accept it, or at least carry it with us.

And for me that has included Laos. For a few months now, I was saying to myself and others, "Really what part of me wants is jsut to melt into some Laotian village."

Well, here we go!

And the Mekong. The Mekong. I feel a wave of energy shudder through my body as I conjure my image of the Mekong River, South East Asia's lifeline.

I'm a student of history, so I know about this river. I've seen pictures and she is stunning, alluring. I imagine her to be slow and wide, gently winding through stunning hills covered in rice paddies. And that you can really give yourself to this river and let her hold and carry you. That's what I feel.

I also know something about the history of Laos, Combodia and Vietnam, about the brutal legacy left by French colonialism, and later, by the brutal American war in Indochina (the Vietnam War). We bombed this shit out of these people, illegally, as if that should matter. Destroyed their lands, and killed maybe 2 million people, if not more, and left a landscape that is still riddle with landmines and still kills and mames innocent people, children, animals, every day. And as if that weren't enough, once US forces were forced to withdraw, our actions helped lead to take overs by repressive regimes in those countries, especially Cambodia, where just now the nation is trying war criminals who tortured and killed people 30 years ago.

If I weren't at an airport Dairy Queen, I might be crying right now. In any case, you can probably sense how much this moves me.

I'm still not fully sure why I'm on this planet. I have some good ideas. And one of them might be to feel what others cannot or do not want to. That somehow the grief that is burried in the soil here and in the hearts of South East Asians and of Americans somehow finds its way through me, and then maybe out, over with, a bit more done.

I'm not the only one of course. But I feel it strongly, as I do when a forest is clear cut. It does not overwhelm me. It is not constant. But it comes from time to time, and it feels good and healing to be with it, and I think, perhaps, it is good and healing for the world in some way.

So part of me is moved as well to go to these lands and to be with that legacy. And perhaps to grieve a war that happened before I was even born, but that for some reason weighs heavily on my heart.

So there may be some healing for me on this part of the journey. And perhaps I can contribute in some way to healing and reconciliation amidst the lands and animals and people of this region, and of my people as well.

Ooh. A lot of emotion here. I'm quite close to tears.

I'm glad I wrote this. I'm clearer now. And open to the possibility that little of this will happen, and that a lot of other things will, or that it all will.

Much love to you,
Roni

I Survive My First Full-Body Thai Massage

2009-03-01T04:59:00.001-08:00

Hi people. I had to take a break from my favorite night market (thus far) in all of Thailand to tell you about my first full-body Thai massage.

I leave for Laos tomorrow (woo hoo! my first mostly Communist country, not counting Marin), and so I thought, hey, tonight's the night. Thus far I've gotten 4 or 5 quality foot rubs, but not the whole nine yards.

So I sauntered up to a row of cots, and said, "Do me people!" No really I just sort of gestured, and they were on my like pirannahs.

Well not all of them. One of them. I can't recall her name, but my masseuse was a kind yet stern middle-aged woman who sort of seemed like a cross between Yoda, Frau Farbisana and the women who tries to secude Bill Murray's character in 'Lost in Translation.' (Which I love, and almost ended a relationship over because the girl didn't love it, or really, 'get it'.)

Now where I'm from, the women who gives massage tend to be either unbelievably hot, or, believably gorgeous. And you know this is true. So Frau took a bit of adjusting (pardon the pun) to, but OK, if I wanted sex I could have propositioned the nice young monk who was tending the Wat a few feet away.

Did he just say that? Yes, because it too is true.

So anyway Frau just goes at it with me. Gives me a full pummelling. A few times she actually punched me. Once I swear she had me in a full nelson head lock.

I would have furnished pictures, nut I couldn't reach the camera. In fact, I could barely breathe.

I did manage to snap this massage-ee eye-view of what went down. Actually, it looks more like something went up. But it didn't: it's these funky Thai pants I can't seem to take off myself cus they rock so hard (once again pardon the pun), and the awkward camera angle. Really.

In any case, I must say that despite periods of pain, at times intense pain, and the ever present fear that I might emerged paralyzed from the whole experience, or with a broken femur at the very least, and hence back at Chiang Mai Ram Hospital, I actually feel...great! A little pain for, well, questionable gain. But gain nonetheless!

OK peeps,it's time to meet my French friends one last time (in this incarnation, anyway - oh say it ain't so!) for some full-on grazing back at the night market. Oh to be able to graze once more...heaven, on a stick!

Love,
Roni

ps - Krouzman Health Update
Once again I am feeling good today...and enjoying my first real day of grazing again. Woo hoo!!!

Despite my earlier pledges to batten down the hatches on this ship and avoid street food, I'm back at it. Sort of like the time I thought I was going to die on mushrooms, and swore I would go back to local high schools and tell the kids not to do drugs, for real! I guess I did go back to high schools, more to tell the kids to hate Goerge Bush though.

In any case, here I am downing a delicious pork skewer. It cost 28 cents (the exchange rate has improved by a few percent since I got here!). How can I not indulge when 100 smiling people are offering me everything from meat on sticks and coconut juice shakes to sticky rice with mango and deep fried prawns?!

pps - Juliette Update
OK so this actually wasn't my first full body Thai massage. 3 days ago Juliette gave me one in the park. You see, she and her friend Caroline are here studying massage (Krouzman clenching teeth). So we're at the park, and I say, "Hey Juliette, you need someone to practice on?" And this was in rather good French mind you. And she pauses for a sec and says, "Quoi, Oui." I sort of half laugh but then realize she said Yes, and immediately act as if everything is normal and this is not really that exciting for me and say, "Well, OK. If you must."

It was quite enjoyable, but got off to a bit of an awkward start. I lay back, happy as a clam, and just as she's about to begin, Jueliette says, "Eh, Ro-nee. Yoor feet. Zay are very dertee." Uh, yes. Yes they are. "Oui, Juliette. Une moment," I say, as I shamelessly clean them with my friend Sarah's sarong I for some reason agreed to carry through Asia with me.

Here's another picture of Juliette, wearing my cowboy hat, the one I picked up in the sands of Burning Man, because, as I told her, I am a bad ass and I go to Burning Man. OK, is this getting wierd? Yes. Even I think this is getting wierd. But I just can't keep these pictures from the world.

ppps - I've been away from home for a full month. Woo hoo!

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

2009-02-28T07:09:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-27T04:26:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-02-22T05:01:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-21T05:20:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-20T05:34:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-19T01:41:00.001-08:00

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!

2009-02-18T06:18:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-17T04:24:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-16T04:16:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-14T19:16:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-12T23:46:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-02-12T06:29:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-10T08:11:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-02-08T23:02:00.001-08:00

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?

2009-02-08T05:32:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-02-07T07:14:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-02-06T06:41:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-02T20:38:00.000-08:00

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

The Inauguration!

2009-01-24T12:57:00.000-08:00

I joined 1 - 2 million people in Washington DC January 19 - 21, braving the cold and the crowds to witness the inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama as our 44th president. It was an amazing experience.

This video chronicles my time in the city, from throwing shoes at a giant blow-up doll ex-President to joining the million + on the Mall to partying it up at an inaugural Ball.

There wasn't much of a question that I would attend the inauguration, and everything fell in place to make it happen, from cheap flights to free tickets provided by my Congresswoman, Lynn Woolsey (awesome!), to several housing options, and even 2 wool coats! It simply seemed the thing to do, destiny even.

I attended with my dear friend Maeanna, beautiful and passionate in every way, and met up with my old college friend Fouad. It was so sweet to rekindle our friendship.

I went for myself, and for my country, and I also carried the prayers and hopes of my friends and community, who all had the courage to believe and work for this in some way. I came for them too.

I felt joy in DC, and also some grief. But this was different than the jubilation and catharsis of election day.

Mainly, I believe that I, and many others who attended, came mainly to bear witness. To plant our feet on the cold earth and stand for hours, a peaceful, present, powerful army of 2 million people that could rest only after that oath was administered, that came to say, "We will watch to make sure this happens. And we will stand, forward-thinking, strong, connected to our country again, to honor our new President, to show him our support, and also to make sure he knows how seriously we take his promises. And to mark an ending, and a new beginning, and rebirth as a Republic once more. And to commit ourselves to the work ahead."

A few things stood out for me during my 3 days in Washington. The beauty of the city. The stark, bone chilling cold. The massive crowds. The sense of comraderie.

And race. The city seemed equally mixed between black and white. We stood together, in the cold, young and old, in a way that felt more united to me than ever. And of course, I couldn't help but feel such joy that the descendants of slaves could stand in a capital built by slaves and watch as an African-American man finally became president.

What a moment for our country. What a moment.

Love,
Roni

PS - There are some amazing pics here.

PPS - On his second day in office, President Obama came through with the first of many campaign promises, issuing an Executive Order to close Guantanamo and all 23 secret CIA prisons worldwide. Thank God. We are back to the rule of law, to a Republic, to some semblance of decency. Even if that were his only act - and he will do so much more - all our work would have been worth it.

Star Wars in the Desert

2009-01-13T12:27:00.000-08:00

My last full day in Death Valley. High off my solo adventure, my communion with this magical place and with deeper parts of my self. I let the soft animal of my body lead the way, and love what is loves...giant sand dunes, and Star Wars, the mythology of our generation.

A lot more to come on the 10 days prior. In the meantime, enjoy some lightness!

The Dinner Party

2009-01-13T00:18:00.000-08:00

Heading East

2009-01-12T22:49:00.000-08:00

In less than 36 hours I'll be on a plane to New York.

The whirlwind continues. My life as a nomad is becoming more and more real.

First, it's dear childhood friends, my sister, and my mother. I'm excited to see them all. And to experience New York, which I love. And, of course, to attend my sister Donna's wedding! Yes!

I am not so excited about the fact that it's supposed to be 8 degrees the night I land. That's right. 8. Not 38. Not 18. But 8. Just 8 of 'em. That's fucking cold.

On January 19th, I fly to Washington, DC. I'll take the metro to Congress, or maybe for dramatic effect hail a taxi, and say, "Take me to Congress! I have important business there."

Which I do. I'll be picking up two tickets to the inauguration, courtesy of my Congresswoman, Lynn Woolsey, who is awesome. And a sucker for bribes. Hence the tickets.

Ha! Big, big joke. Lynn is amazing!

My friend Maeanna and I will be wearing long wool Kennedy-esque coats (mine is part cashmere too - thanks Ellis!) and staying at the home of the current/former ambassador to Kenya. I was pulling for a European diplomat's home, but this will have to do ;-)

How this all exactly came to be I'm not sure. I knew I was going before I knew I was going, before any tickets or posh housing or wool coats came through. Some things are just...laid out for us, I suppose.

And then, on the 20th, we will stand with a million people (more?) and watch as Barack Hussein Obama ends our 8 year political nightmare and becomes the first African American to take the oath of office as President of the United States. Oh my.

So much possibility here. This evening, the New York Times website is reporting, "President-elect Barack Obama plans to issue an executive order on his first full day in office directing the closing of the Guantánamo Bay detention camp in Cuba."

I could cry over just that. And there will be so much more good. And also a lot that will disappoint us. Ultimately, I believe, it's up to us to keep moving this country in a progressive direction at the grassroots - and pressuring politicians to do the right thing.

I'll blog more on this for sure. For now, I want encourage and invite you to tell me what you want me to bring to the inauguration, and be open to, on your behalf. Just post a comment.

I feel I am going to DC for more than just me. I am going for those who came before and made this possible, for those who will come after and live in a world determined by our actions, for those who cannot speak, for our planet, and for all of you too, my community.

Consider me your representative in Washington on January 20! Sorry, you didn't get to vote on this one. ;-)

So? Bring it on.

Love Roni

Oh yeah regarding this Vision Quest thing I mentioned a few weeks ago, it really wasn't very much of a big deal, so not much to say on that one. Psych. More on that for sure...soon!

To the Desert

2008-12-25T21:49:00.000-08:00

Oooh. Oooh oooh oooh. That’s me calming myself down.

Or I could say, “Holy shit!” Not a very sacred way to start this post, but that’s what we say back in Jersey when something big is goin’ down.

I just spoke with my sister, who grew up with me in Jersey. And something big is indeed goin’ down. So it feels fitting. At least it feels that way to me.

In 7 hours a woman I’ve never met before will pick me up at the crack of dawn. We’ll drive 9 hours to a desert (Death Valley, how fitting) I’ve never been before. There I’ll meet 10 other people, all but one who I’ve met before, and embark on 9 days of ritual, ceremony, council, and 4 days of fasting, three days solo in the wilderness with a sleeping bag, a tarp, water and my journal. No, I’ve never done that before either!

So I stand at the brink of a Vision Quest, a scared journey into the unknown. I’ve been excited all week. And today the fear and grief came through like a mighty Pacific storm. Wowsers. It was all I could do to keep myself tied to the mast and keep movin’ through.

And I did. And I had too. My mother will attest to my habit of leaving packing to the last minute.

And here I am now. At nine at night. The bills are paid. The emails sent. The bags are packed, beautifully. I even cleaned the kitchen! Though not as beautifully.

And I’m feeling…rather good, enjoying a sweet cup of chai and a few morsels of chocolate, a cozy way to celebrate this last night at home, to end a sweet week of potlucks, friends and holiday warmth, and to celebrate the completion of my preparation – of buying tarps and borrowing down coats and sleeping bags and going on an 8 mile “Day Walk” to seek guidance and meeting with my precious Men’s Group and handling a hundred other matters.

I might actually save this week’s to-do list for posterity. Sample items include:
- Give notice to landlord I am leaving this house
- Pay garbage bill
- Prep for Death Lodge

So what lies ahead? It’s hard to say much about a process I know so little about. I can say it feels right to do this. I can say I believe it will change me – perhaps profoundly - though I’m not sure how.

People embark on Vision Quests for different reasons. I am going because I feel my quest will help me continue to move between worlds: between a world based on more on fear and control to one based on trust and openness. I am going because I want to be tested, to face my fears and work through and overcome some of them. I am going to cultivate that sense of being “at home” more deeply inside me, wherever I am. And I am going to further my transformation: to let go and grieve and find a deeper love and support in myself, in the earth, in the stars…and, perhaps, in unexpected places.

And I’m sure I’m going for other reasons, but my mind isn’t conscious of every conspiracy of my soul and the universe. It just gets a glimpse, and if I’m lucky, I muster the courage to go with it.

I am so grateful to everyone who has helped me get to a point in my life where a Vision Quest not only makes sense, but it’s actually something I’m choosing to do, despite my fears. The support and wisdom and love and cheerleading I’ve gotten from so many of you during the past few years, and especially the past few weeks and months, has made a tremendous difference for me.

A kid from Jersey who used to pride himself on his math mind – OK, still does – and started an atheist group in his high school (for real) now knows he has a soul, is now choosing to surrender himself to the universe, has slowly, over time, built the courage to make the move. This is a victory for the universe! ;-)

The grief. I wonder about it. I think it has to do with leaving home, and coming home, and also letting certain things go so that I can make space for new things. Letting go of loves lost and never had to make room for so much more. I'm doing my best to make room for it, remind myself that all that comes now is necessary, and that I am learning to strike a balance between honoring the boy and stepping up as a man.

Right now I feel like I’m standing at the shore of a large lake. It is dusk. It is misty. The water and the air are cool. Rocky cliffs surround us. I’ve never had the courage to walk up to this lake before and stand before it.

These past few months, I’ve found that courage. The lake is big and strong – foreboding in some ways - and yet I can stand before it now.

And there is a boat. It is not a big boat. It looks stable enough, but just barely, and by no means modern. That boat will take me to the other side of the lake.

I want to see that other side so much. But I’m scared. But tomorrow morning at 5am I’m getting in that boat anyway. I’m listening to my soul and doing something scary and having faith I’ll make it through.

I am nervous about the voyage. And I am also excited! To learn new ways and rituals and ceremonies on this boat. To receive wisdom from guides and others on this lake. To commune deeply with the earth, with the rocks, with the blue sky. To sleep under a blanket of stars, and stare up in awe at the night sky that has held me so close since I was a child. To do the rituals and face the fears and feel the fatigue and yet push on. To build fires and burn paper and release what I no longer need into the deep, black water; to cherish rocks and skin and ritual objects as if they were bread; and to pluck treasures, precious treasures, from the mystery.

And to reach the other side. At least to catch more of a glimpse of that new world. To see and feel and smell and experience what more of what it means to live meaningfully and sensually and with a deep knowledge that I am held and safe in this gorgeous world. To dance in it even! And I don’t know any other way there except to cross this dark, mysterious body of water.

I’m staying conscious of the over achiever in me, and of the mystery. I really don’t know what will happen, and I imagine I will accept whatever comes.

And yet at this moment I want to let myself dream big. To balance the fears with a big huge love, wonder, passion and faith.

Whatever your beliefs, I know that if you are reading this, you love me. I ask for your prayers, your thoughts, your blessings, your love and your belief in me as I embark on this journey. It will make a difference, and I will hold you in my heart when I am out there.

Much love,
Roni

And how fitting that the 3 nights before my 3 day solo are the 3 last nights of Hanukkah, and I, wandering Jew, will be in the desert, Menorah and candles in hand.

In the Jungle

2008-12-22T17:58:00.000-08:00

Well folks, here it is, better late than never: the story on me and the jungle.

I was feeling both excitement and fear about being there alone. And it all came to pass.

Fear at night, especially at first. Fear of snakes – I saw one, a 5 foot long, 4-6 inch thick jumping pit viper, one of the most venomous of the 130 snake species in Costa Rica. It actually wasn’t very scary.

Loneliness too, and all that brought up in a place of few distractions. Longing came up, and grief followed. I sat patiently with myself and worked through these feelings and took good care of myself. I done good.

And oh, the beauty. Waking and going to sleep to the sound of crickets and birds and the breeze through the trees. Being bathed in the light of the full moon as bats and fireflies circled over head. Gazing out at the placid Gulfo Dulce, at fields of cows, at lush rainforest. Walking alone through dense jungle, across creeks, up to – and in - waterfalls...and amidst so many animals, including, monkeys!

I'd never seen monkeys before, and certainly not this many. I'd see them daily, in troupes of 5 to 10. White faced Cachuphins, bigger Howlers. Babies on the backs of mamas. Crazy sounding Howler calls at 4am to welcome the dawn - and wake me up!

Ya’ll know how much I love monkeys. I always have. They are some of our closest relatives. We share common ancestors. They are beautiful and smart, and really cute!

They also know how to fight. At one point I found myself between 4 warring monkeys, baring their teeth at each other with me in the middle. They were at most 5 feet away, in trees, at eye level. I felt alert but comfortable. It was awesome.

So beauty. A lot of it. And fear and grief, and all of it.

The beauty felt gooood to take in. And the fear and grief were good stuff to face, all important parts of my path right now. What came most to me was the idea of feeling safe and loved and at home wherever I am…and with love and practice, I felt it more and more.

I am home wherever I am. Because I’m in this universe, my home. Because I’m on earth, my home. And because I am in me! All words that are feeling far truer because of my 5 days of mainly solitude. So much so, that by my last few nights, I reveled in being alone, savored laying in my hammock for hours, with a few candles lit and the warm breeze caressing my skin and the gorgeous full moon bathing me in her light.

Pura Vida,
Love Roni

And finally, here's a 10 minute movie I strung together. Muy fun!

El Futbol - viva la Ligua!

2008-12-18T09:56:00.000-08:00

I´m being treated like royalty today because of the shirt I´m wearing. It´s really, really fun, and a bit eerie, in a good way. Let me tell you about it.

You see, one of the things I like to do most when visiting a foreign country is go to a soccer game. And the gods of sport have blessed me well: it seems that whenever I show up somewhere, there´s a really big game happening, and I manage to find out about it, and get a ticket.

In Britain it was Arsenal-Liverpool. It was sold out, of course: They are 2 of the best sides (teams) in the UK. I went to the stadium, avoided the $150 a ticket scalpers, and my god of sport in the guise of a kind black man comes up to me and says, wanna come in with me? I have an extra ticket. $30 (face value, for one of the most important matches in England). Those fish and chips wrapped in newspaper never tasted so good.

In Holland it was Ajax-Fijnord, the 2 best teams facing off in the championship. My father´s friend just gave me his 2 season tickets. I´m not sure what was more awesome - the game or the Dutch riot police on horse back (not very intimidating). Actually, I do - it was the game.

Well, last night, it was Saprisa vs. Alajuehla (aka, La Ligua!), Costa Rica´s 2 best teams facing off in game 1 of a 2 game final. Of course this should happen my last night in the country!

A new local friend, German, got us the wildly overpriced (not) $14 tickets. We picked up his friend Carlos - they´re both awesome 35 year old Tico (Costa Rican) journalists - and weaved our way the 15 miles to the stadium. German drives like a Nascar racer meets New York cabbie. I´ve really never felt more comfortable in a car, or witnessed a driver more held by the hand of God. Maybe that taxi driver in Rome.

We park in the working class neighborhood where the stadium is, and the energy is pulsing as we stride enthusiastically toward the glowing lights. Young people are dressed in their team´s colors, singing and waving flags. Men and women are hawking empanadas, drinks, and meat on sticks (which Carlos would by me later ... mmmmm).

Change up the food, the language and the color a bit, and this is how I imagine it happens everywhere on Earth. Soccer really does unite us as a species. Get on board, gringos.

OK Krouzman, nuff preachin´. Get to the game, and tell us about this royalty thing.

Well, the stadium is small by American standards - seats maybe 15,000. People are wild with enthusiasm, singing songs that sound rich and complicated to the untrained American ear (God, why don´t WE sing rich cultural songs at OUR events?). In fact, even with my limited Spanish, I now understand they are passionately singing songs that amount to, ¨Ole!¨ and ¨We want our team to win tonight!¨

Anyway, I grab my empanada, spill spicy green pepper onion soup-like substance all over it - and up the sleeve of my completely water proof Arcteryx shell (see previous post on gear), which at this point has mainly served the function of keeping water in rather than out - and we find our seats. Make that yellow concrete blocks. Not very comfy, but who cares.

The game is fucking awesome. Alajuehla (La Ligua) scores a beautiful just before the end of the first half, and the crowd goes wild. Then a minute later a Saprisa player is red carded. Down one player and down one goal, Saprisa doesn´t have much of a chance. So I indulge and flag down the chicken man, who tosses me a box of delicious fried chicken in exchange for my 4 bucks. That might buy you a pretzel at an American stadium. And the chicken was really, really good.

I also take this opportunity to firm up my allegiance - to La Ligua!, of course - much to the chagrin of my friend German, and to the joy of his friend Carlos. And hey, we´re in the Alajuehla stadium, and almost everyone is cheering for La Ligua! When in Rome...

Of course the home team wins, and it´s pandemonium. A few people get mildly out of hand, a good excuse for the stunning beautiful Costa Rica robo cop riot police to unleash a bit. They don´t have a military, so the would be army rangers here have to be content with scowling at 17 year old soccer fans and pushing them in the chest. Not too hard though. Pura Vida!

So, the royalty thing. After the game we drop Carlos (radio host, father of 3, super nice guy) off at his house, and he tells us to hold on a minute. He comes back and proudly and generously hands me an official, old school original (I am told) Ligua shirt! It´s way big, and it´s black and red (for the socialist-anarchist that I am), and it´s fucking perfect. Carlos and German, you are gems.

We go out for a beer, and I start to notice, ¨Hey, I´m getting some good attention for wearing this shirt.¨ Ganamos! says one woman as she claps my hand. We win!

Eh, si, Ganamos. Ganamos!

So it´s obvious what shirt I wear to the airport today. My new Ligua shirt! It´s stunning. Victor, my cabbie for life (salt of the earth), exclaims with joy as soon as he sees me. La Ligua! I beam with pride.

At the airport, I´m celebrated like I´m one of the players themselves. From the homeless guy begging for money at the curb, to the baggage hands, to the airport departure tax guy, to the crew of young guys running ¨security.¨ I´ve never had my hand shaken firmly and gotten such a smile after passing through the metal detector. Or been able to smuggle through so much coke!

I imagine I´m the only non-Tico at the airport today wearing a Ligua jersey. Perhaps tico or non-tico. This has been a fun post, but I´m going to go walk around and flaunt and exchange that knowing Jedi smile with fellow fans, or even the requisite ¨Ligua! Ligua!¨ chant I´ve been greeted with today as I´ve strolled the terminal.

Actually, I´m going to take a seat in that big red VIP chair for a few first and soak in the comfort of this VIP lounge. Yeah, that´s what I´m gonna do.

Viva la Ligua! Viva Futbol!

Pura Vida,
Roni

Another erie twist...

In case you were wondering, I am at the airport. I asked the nice man at information if they have public internet computers, and he said no, only in the VIP lounge, which I could enter for some ungodly fee, like $25.

So, I do what I do, which is just walk into the VIP Lounge, past the 3 receptionists, find the computer, and start typing with that of course I belong here vibe. No, you don´t need to see my identification. I´m a Jedi in training, I´m Israeli, and for God´s sake, I´m wearing a Ligua shirt!

Quepos, Costa Rica

2008-12-15T18:30:00.001-08:00

Hola amigos. Estoy en Quepos, Costa Rica.

What a trip. I'm not feeling particularly funny or insightful. Mainly I'm feeling full of yummy local food, and pretty sleepy.

I figure every Blog entry doesn't need to be a masterpiece. So I'll just see what comes out and share some thoughts.

My 5 days mainly alone in the jungles of Osa were very rich - more to come on that in a few days. It took 3 prop plane flights yesterday (totalling 2 hours 25 minutes, including the 2 layovers) to get me from there to here.

Quepos is a town of maybe 5,000 (?!) on the Central Pacific Coast. It's very warm, quite humid, rather poor, and the people are friendly and kind. Basically typically Costa Rican I'm discerning, except that it lies 4 miles from the nation's most visited National Park, so there's a lot catered to tourists here. Easy enough to avoid, but leaves its mark of course.

Yet the town feels raw and real to me. A lot of concrete. Open street gutters for the rainwater. Sloowwww pace. Teenagers on bikes and scooters. Locals at restaurants, walking out of churches, getting ice cream. And tons of small shops: pharmacies, drinks, ice cream, restaurants, motorcycle / moped repair shop, eye glasses shop...

It feels surprisingly amazing to be in a third world country. How's that for a profound statement? ;-)

Really it's my first time in maybe 10 years, when I visited Jordan briefly. Incredibly, for someone who traveled a lot as a kid, this is actually my first time out of the country in 4 and a half years!

So third world countries. This isn't news to some of you, but wow. The innocence of people. How men smile here like children in the US. People have so much less than us materially yet seem far more in a flow, more relaxed, content with life, in closer knit families / communities. And of course almost everyone is some darker shade of brown than me, and a foot to half a foot shorter. I like how different it feels, yet we're all human.

The innocence strikes me most. Like we age too much in the US, or really, we harden. Less so here it seems. I'm thinking of future travels and the thought of melting into some Laotian village seems quite appealing. Like there would be a love and basic welcoming there that you just don't fully get in America or another "developed" country.

I'm happy to be finding that I feel rather comfortable in places like this. I'm sure my time in Israel as a child helped with that: Israel is far wealthier than Costa Rica, but the poor neighborhoods look quite similar to here, and there is also a raw, unpolished feel to the country. And people are browner, though not much shorter ;-)

I'm enjoying just strolling the streets here at night. I feel safe. I notice my racism creep up and I don't like it. And of course, like anywhere, there is a valid reason to be cautious too.

But I feel safe, and I enjoy strolling around slowly. Going to a local restaurant. Speaking Spanish where ever I can. Another very useful thing I find easy: trying and picking up other languages. I'm fluent in French and Hebrew, and I've learned a lot of Spanish in my week here. People in Costa Rica are happy to indulge and speak Spanish with you, which helps.

Some local slang I've picked up: Pura Vida, of course, which I take to basically mean, "It's all good." And then twanis (not sure on the spelling), slang for "cool," literally from the English "too nice," a Rasta Caribbean influence I'm told. And mucho gusto for thanks rather than the Spain spanish "De nada".

And buenas. Every greeting. No need for the dias or tardes or noches. You can add those, but just buenas will do.

In terms of activites, this is a big change from Osa. Osa was mainly solitude, on beaches and in the jungle. Now I'm in a pretty full hostel with internet access in a small city.

Today I did the tourist thing and flew down ziplines through the rainforest canopy. Dude, it was fun.

On the way back I struck up a conversation in Spanish with our 32-year old van driver, and after dropping everyone else off, he drove me to a hillside trail and said in spanish, walk down there and you'll get to a great beach. Oh and on the way he stops suddenly, backs up, and points out a tree sloth. Wow. Of course the beach was awesome.

Tomorrow I'm going to Manuel Antonio National Park, which is supposed to be a gem, though a small one. Rainforest spilling into the ocean, monkeys, spectacular beaches - it basically sounds like Pt Reyes meets Jurassic Park. Sounds good to me.

Wednesday morning I'm taking the bus to San Jose, a city everyone has said to avoid, but I feel attracted to it, again for its rawness. I plan to visit the central market, get some lunch, walk the streets some, and in the evening I'm meeting a friend of a friend - German (pronounces, hehr-MAHN) - who is awesome and is taking me to a Costa Rican soccer game! Yes! I love going to soccer games in foreign countries. We might also go dancing.

Thursday morning, I'm off, back through Atlanta to San Francisco and into the arms of two dear friends, who I will hug like crazy, because contact / touch just ain't something you seem to get a lot of on the road, at least not most of the time.

There's a lot more to say, and you'll get it in my next post, along with pics and video. One thing I've been working with is cultivating that "at home" feeling no matter where I am. It's something I've been working on now for quite some time in my life in general, and travelling, especially open-endedly, really brings that up. Like soon, can I go to my room and though I am a few thousands miles from Fairfax, and the weather and language and smells and architecture are so different, can I feel at home? And mostly, thankfully, the answer is, "yes".

Bueno, hasta pronto,
pura vida,
besos y amor!
Roni

OK, OH MY GOD, literally, right now, I hear the Staw Wars theme music in the background. Time to go to the communal movie lounge here at the hostel!!!

Damn it that wasn't Star Wars. It's Michael Moore's sicko. But it's all good, the almost full moon is rising and the night is perfect!

Fear, Gear, Friend of the Year - and, I'm here!

2008-12-08T14:23:00.000-08:00

OK peeps. I spent an hour at the Atlanta airport crafting a masterful blog post on a pay-by the minute second generation Eniac computer. It posted the title, but deleted everything else. You'll have to believe me that it was quite the post: funny, insightful, rivetting even. But now it's gone. Into the ether.

Hightlights included:
- FEAR: For some reason detaching from all the major sources of security in my life is causing me to feel fear. Go figure. I'm facing this fear like a brave jedi warrior. And sometimes I just shake.
- GEAR: Speaking of Jedi's, I was one when I shopped Friday. Scores included an arcteryx shell (!), an i-shuffle (my first i-product! ONE GIG people!), and diarehea pills
- FRIEND OF THE YEAR: I love you all, and the winner is...Maeanna Glenn, for sleeping over my house and driving me 50 minutes to the airport at 3:30am. Damn.

And now, I'm here, in Costa Rica! Spending a few minutes while a sweet gorgeous woman books me 3 nights in one of the world's most wild national parks. Oooh!

Last night I was picked up at San Jose airport by a friend of a friend, who drove me around, fed me, and was just all around awesome. I gave him a bottle of Johnie Walker Black Label, one of his fav's. He housed me in his small guest bedroom. It was awesome.

Then a short prop plane flight to where I am now: the hot, humid, very green Osa peninsula. Lunch in town, purchasing a block of ice (for the fridge - new electricity where I'm going!) and some food supplies. It is soooo chill here.

So much more to say, and you'll here it in a week or two. I'm off to my seculuded house on the beach, surrounded by monkeys and birds and jungle and friendly snakes.

Here we go!!!

Love,
Roni

Clear

2008-11-28T16:02:00.000-08:00

What a week! A lot has happened - connections, clarity, letting go, and deciding.

First, the decisions!

I am going to Costa Rica for 10 days on my own starting Dec 8. I just bought the ticket for 514 bucks. Wooooo! I'll be staying in a cozy house on the beach surrounded by jungle (sprinkled with monkeys, birds and a few friendly snakes), gifted to me by a friend and Next Gen Board member. Thank you John! The Osa Peninsula is supposed to be the most beautiful and least developed part of Costa Rica. Perrrrffffect! Rain forest beaches adventure relaxation who knows what here I come!

Decision #2: Today I handed the post man (sounds more auspicious than "mail" man) an envelope with a check for $200 and a one page letter explaining my reasons for my decision to apply for Dutch citizenship. Oops, I mean embark on a 10-day New Year's Vision Quest in Death Valley December 26 - Jan 5. Holy shit! I'm nervous and excited, and the still part of me is clear this is right, and an important step on my path. I'm looking forward to a transformative experience that pushes me to my edges and facilitates my process of growth, rebirth, and who knows what else! All I know is I'm going with maybe a dozen people and a few guides, it will be very cold at night, we'll do rituals and ceremonies and learn some wilderness survival, and I'll walk alone and camp solo in the desert for 3 days and 3 nights, while fasting. Heh, what could that possibly bring up?! No really, this feels like a life changing decision straight from my soul, and I'm excited to have mustered the courage and the clarity to go for it. I am prepared to bravely and humbly surrender to nature, the universe and my destiny.

Decision #3: I'm going to my sister's wedding January 17 in NYC! A no brainer here. I love my sister and I'm excited. I'll see my mom and dear childhood friends as well. AND, while I'm in the area, I'm going to take the train to Washington, DC to join probably a million people and witness Barack Obama get sworn in as our next president! The dates were just too aligned to let that opportunity of a lifetime pass me by. I invite any and all friends and family to join me. Why the heck not?!

Decision #4: Shit Krouzman, another decision? What's the deal, you on mushrooms or something? Mushrooms?! What mushrooms? Oh, THOSE mushrooms. How do you know about those mushrooms? You reading ahead or something? Anyway, decision #4 is I will leave my house of 3 and a half years at the end of January. It's been a good run, and it's time to move on, especially considering Decision #5.

Decision #5: February is my "Who the Fuck Knows Let's Step Off Into the World" month! No stressing about awkward Valentine's Days or whether some rodent sees his shadow, though I may miss the REI used gear sale. I'm thinking of voyages to friends and forests and islands in the Pacific Northwest, and then, Asia perhaps! The South East beckons. But remember the title of this month! I'm not setting anything in stone yet. I'm keeping it open to whatever moves my soul and whatever arises.

Deci - OK enough decisions already, you're makin' my head spin, and that ain't good cus' my tummy is still stuffed full of turkey. Fine, there's one more, and it's sick - SICK - but you don't get to hear it. Ha!

You do, however, get a little glimpse into my process around all this, which will interest some of you, and bore / confound others. Ooh, actually that's a big task. The gist of it is, you all know this is a big period of transformation and letting go for me, a combination of relaxation, growth, and adventure. I'd been kickin' around ideas like Thailand and an archetypal hero's journey through Laos and then thought, "Krouzman, chill. That's your ego again needing to make plans and be bad-ass. That's no different than before. Just go easy on yourself and stay open. It will be more fun and you'll open more to things falling into place in due time."

And, suddenly, they did. I think my fast had something to do with it. God after 24 hours I was like shit please please let me have a burg - no no, I was like, "Dude, it's clear. I'm doing this vision quest. I'm going to Costa Rica. I'm changing my citizenship. I'm telling that girl I really like her." Perfect.

And here we are now. On the other end. Stayed, and staying, with my fears, and wild enthusiasm for life, and going for it in a way that feels balanced and good. Yeah!

Much love,
Roni

PS - What a week! Besides all this, I:
- Fasted for 48 hours (see above)
- Enjoyed a sweet potluck with friends
- Danced ecstaticly Wednesday night at a sweet ballroom in Oakland
- Foraged giant oyster mushrooms in the woods near my house
- Walked for hours through the precious forests that surround me
- Spent a wonderful Thanksgiving with friends
- Had an epic therapy session
- Cried and screamed and punched my pillow to continue my grieving process
- Connected in some very deep way with a wonderful new human in my life and more closely with less-new wonderful humans...no IDEA where all that will go, and it's OK!
- Mom, I even cleaned my freakin' room! AND called you! Fuck yeah!

All this while also going food shopping, going to the bank, clipping my finger nails, trimming my beard, doing the dishes (most of 'em), driving my friend to the airport, spending 3 hours on gmail chat, AND saving four kids in that horrible orphanage fire!

It's amazing all you can get done in retirement. I highly recommend it.

(Here's me and Lils with our forest booty by the way... These babies sear soooo tasty!)

OK my friends, if you've read this far, you get a special treat: Decision #6! I am changing my name to Roni Dolphin Bat. OK, that's not true. There is no big decision #6 quite yet. Well, I think I might sell my Volvo. That's pretty big.

Finally, you get another pic. This is me kicking the shit out my pillow, instead of kicking the shit out of _______, _______, and even ________. It's great. We do that here in Fairfax. I recommend it for you New Yorkers and Israelis. I think you'll enjoy it, and it might cut down on your high crime / war rate.

9 Months Later...Re-Birthing

2008-11-24T19:07:00.000-08:00

I am approaching the 24th hour of a 48-hour fast. I'll put aside my East Coast judgments and just write.

Exactly 9 months since my last post (the synchronisity), and I am changed, and changing. Re-birthing.

Here's the down-low.

8 months of growth struggle and moments of beauty and deep connection with a wonderful woman being are over, and I have few regrets. 6 years after starting the non-profit I have nurtured to its current state, I leave, intentionally and with heart, with no regrets and many blessings for its future. All the while, a lot of growth, and a conscious decision to let go and step into a new world, really, at this point, a world between worlds.

I said this would be my year of graceful endings. Little did I know what the universe would have in store for me!

I see myself on a voyage between the world I've know for 31 years - control, reason, holding on, planning, grasping, avoiding, fighting, defending - to a new world, of trust, opening, mystery, flow, meaning, acceptance, purpose, and a sensual connection with life, whatever it brings.

It's not about letting go of all the old. It's about letting go of some of it, and embracing much that is new, and coming into balance as a whole being on this precious planet.

The shift is happening, and it's incredible, and it's terrifying and fascinating and mysterious and makes sense on the deepest level. It's been hard and it has been beautiful and it is bearing a lot of fruit.

It's in my dreams. It's in the pod of 50 dolphins that greeted me at the ocean last week, followed by not one, but 2 shooting stars. It's in the forest. It's in the bat that circled my head a dozen times today when I bowed my head there and asked for guidance. As if the hawk's call and giant redwoods were not enough.

It's been a rich nine months: bonfires on the beach, dear, dear friends, cascading tears, hard, important work, helping elect - and celebrate - a new president!, savoring the spring and summer, weathering anxiety, relaxing deeply, floating in the swimming pool for hours, investing deeply in a relationship, loving, Burning Man!!, new music, dressing up, dancing, working through tough internal stuff, embracing, bit by bit and in a very real, organic way, a new understanding of myself and the world.

There is order. There is mystery. We have a purpose. We are held. Our paths are noble, if we can find and stay on them. Faith is key there. So is nature. And the love of friends. And loving ourselves.

And also, recently for me, dolphins and shooting stars and bats, and feathers and candle light and ritual and fasting. And always writing. We need help on this voyage between worlds. We need help, period.

What's next? Continued transformation is my strong guess. Gelling dreams of travel, to the jungles of Costa Rica, to the solitude of death valley in late December, to New York for my dear sister's wedding, to DC for the inauguration of Barack Obama!, to an as yet unidentified location with my closest male friends, and then, February...to Thailand? Laos? ............

I'm staying open to what comes, to how I feel, to what I need, to messages and meaning and opportunities. I don't know if this is the "right" way to live, but it's feeling more like the only way to me.

Love to you. And thanks for supporting me on this voyage.

I fucking love my new hoodie(s)!

2008-02-24T15:48:00.000-08:00

I do. So much. I bought it yesterday in San Francisco at my favorite clothing store, Villains, which I've been to twice and never seem to be able to leave without "dropping" as they say large amounts of money.

My hoodie is amazing. It's part cotton, part cashmere, so soft. Here's me in my hoodie. I feel like Obi Wan, but even cooler.

Believe it or not it's my first hoodie ever! It cost a ridiculous amount of money. I spent more on this hoodie than I've ever spent on any article of clothing (that my mom didn't buy me, cus she bought me this super expensive coat a few years ago, because that's what (jewish) moms do, and also Z Cavaricci jeans that I really didn't want but she insisted I needed in 8th grade that cost $80 in 1992, back when we still had a functional government mostly and $80 was worth something). Anyway part of the fun was flirting with the salesclerk, part of it was my friend Ellis telling me how money I looked in it and begging me to buy it - insisting really - and the best part was when a storm knocked out power for this trendy store and they had to close and I said to the salesclerk, "Get the manager to knock 25% off this, and I'll buy this hoodie right now," which of course is unheard of because we don't live in Calcutta AND this is a trendy store, the kind initially you're not sure you're cool enough for, but my Israeli father trained me well and wouldn't you know, the manager agrees without batting an eye, and I give her a high five and then proudly model my new ___-dollar hoodie to the young salesclerks, most of whom were very supportive of my decision.

So finally, 3 years after the popularization of hoodies, I have a great hoodie. Actually now I have three because I bought two others the next hour, one in the __ range and one just above the _ range at a thrift store. I'm wearing my hoodie now and it feels so good.

OK, enough about hoodies already. Let's talk about something more familiar. Last night I broiled a whole red snapper Mediteranean-style, and made mussels marinara, and we ate it with saffron rice and kale in a beautiful house with sweet, sweet friends. It was the fucking bomb. It's funny whenever Republicans make fun of how we live here in Marin County, cus' I'm like, "Dude, I LOVE my hikes, the beautiful houses here - large and small - the sense of community, the delicious food, the wonderful open people, and yes, the hot tubs! Soaking in a hot tub is epic. If you're making fun of people who like hot tubs you're clearly just jealous that it's too damn humid in your red state to enjoy hot tubbing. Either that or you're straight off the Mayflower."

K, my rant (or as we say here in Marin, "sharing") for the day.

Oh, one more thing. I wish, for those who haven't been to Fairfax, I could fully describe what it's like in the Fairfix Cafe right now (it's always like this here), where my friends Jimmy, Ellis and I (drinking chai, in my hoodie) are all blogging and such. To my left two middle-aged men are having a series of serious discussions ranging from Buddhism to Kale and now to the "Aging Process." In front of me a man in a red wool cap has just purchased a hot chocolate-type drink and taken but one step away from the counter before diving into the whipped cream, which still adorns his mustache. The high school boys who were trying to play the Rocky soundtrack on their harmonica while pretending to ignore the high school girls two tables over have now left, as have the high school girls in the short skirts and tall boots who were pretending not to notice the high school boys. All around me people are enjoying pitas and soups and salads and chais, and my Palestinian counter-guy friend Sa'ad (as often happens between open-hearted Israelis and Palestinians, we became friends the moment we found out we were from the same battered land) is joking with the Yucatanian bus boy, and the middle-aged friends to my left are now on to shoulder injuries and their role in the prevention of enjoying tennis, and now onto the Oscars, right, which are tonight, and Jon Stewart is hosting!, but you might not know it in this town, it's so Norman Rockwell meets Woodstock and I freakin' love it!

Vote Obama Tuesday

2008-02-03T22:59:00.001-08:00

Many of you have probably already decided to vote Barack Obama in Tuesday's democratic primary. Great! Do it, and get others to.

Obama is gaining big-time in the polls - he's just short of Hillary now nationally, after being down 20+ points! There is extraordinary momentum around his campaign right now, and I hope he’ll be our next president.

Here's an awesome Obama music video. I found it really inspiring and well produced. www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjXyqcx-mYY&3

Email your friends the video, and encourage them to vote Obama. If you like, you can go to www.moveon.org and pledge to email a certain number of friends and encourage them to vote Obama. These endorsements make a huge difference, especially for people who are less involved politically.

Either way, spread the word. Independent voters, especially young voters, made the difference in Iowa, and they will make the difference this election. People are being saturated with TV ads - but they aren't hearing as much from their friends.

If you are unsure about Obama…
Hhere's my rationale: I think he is more progressive than Hillary, has more integrity, and has a better chance of winning in the November election. Hillary is more corporate and centrist, she seems manipulative (duh), and she's hated by half this country, including many independents.

Most liberals will vote for the democratic nominee no matter what, and most conservatives will vote for the republican. So-called independents will most likely tip the election, as they often do. And Obama has been attracting independents like flies to honey. They love his message of hope and a new, more uniting politics.

If McCain wins the Republican primary, as it seems he probably will, he'll be a tough candidate for democrats to beat, in particular because of his strong appeal to independents. I can't see Hillary beating McCain - but I can see Obama beating him. And we NEED to win the November election, if we want any chance of leaving Iraq and slowing climate change and salvaging our economy and being the kind of nation we'd like to be again.

No, Obama isn't perfect, and he’s light on the details. And of course, our system is deeply flawed. But I believe Obama is better than Hillary, and he has a better chance of beating John McCain or any Republican in November. And I know most anyone reading this email would prefer a President Obama taking office in a year than a President McCain.

Finally, Obama is actually inspiring, which will fire-up the democratic base to work for him and will engage more people in public life, which I believe we desperately need right now.

22 states are holding primaries this Tuesday, and your state is almost certainly one of them. In states like California, you can vote in the Democratic primary even if you aren’t a registered democrat. Please vote.

Peace and thanks,
Roni

PS – Please do not reply to all if you wish to reply, and please email me if you like to let me know if emails like these make a difference. Thanks.

Floods, Epic Hikes and a Mighty Crab Feast!

2008-01-27T22:45:00.000-08:00

What a weekend! It rained and rained and rained, and then rained some more, until Friday night when my street literally became a raging flooded river for the second time in two years. While some neighbors fretted over potential damage, which I of course don't wish on anyone (well, almost anyone), I must say I was euphoric. I love, and have always loved, natural disasters, as long as no one dies. There's something about one's street becoming a river that is just so primal - it triggers my male survival what-in-here-would-make-a-good-raft gene, or something.

Needless to say, what water didn't end up in the streets ended up soaking the hills that surround Marin County, and the hikes this weekend were epic, the best they get! I did a two mile loop through the beautiful woods down the street from my house Saturday morning, then met some friends for a 5 mile hike through waterfalls, canyons and forest two miles from my house. So fun and beautiful! Today, I organized a posse of three guy friends to hike Cataract Falls, which I think might be the closest you'll get to Hawaii on the mainland. Picture towering trees, including redwoods, shrouded by a mist and light rain falling on about a mile and a half of cascading waterfalls gushing with torrents of water down 1,000 jungle-like vertical feet. Unreal.

Better yet, view the actual pictures by entering the website of the Fraternorority I preside over and checking out the Cataract Falls Hike 2008 pics. Epic. http://bdsanga.googlepages.com/home

It wasn't all nature this weekend. (Good segue, Krouzman!) I saw a great strange avant garde play put on by the Traveling Jewish Theater Saturday night (which actually included a scene of a guy with a huge fake penis fucking a stuffed deer, something we've all of course envisioned and joked about, but don't really expect to see), then met up with my friend Luke and his friends at El Rincon, a bar / club in San Francisco's Mission District featuring great afro-funk music and more stunningly beautiful women in one place than I think I saw in all of 2007. No offense to any Fairfaxians, there are many beauties among you! It was so "Luke" that when I called he happened to be 2 blocks away at such a cool place and welcomed me with open arms, though he did mess the address up cus he was drunk.

Just when the weekend couldn't get any better, my dear friend Liam rolled into town today for a 2-month stint! After our hike, I cooked up a delicious local crab, spinach salad, rice and brussel sprout feat for him and 4 other good guy friends. It was off the hook. We laughed our asses off and talked about sensitive things like the orphans Ellis has been helping out and Elan's latest charity drive. Also a few other things that aren't fit for my mom's ears. Hi mom! Don't worry, she's cool with the sheep thing cus she spent lots of time on a Kibbutz when she was young. Wow this is dangerous territory.

OK Roni, off to bed. Yay rain, forests, friends, feasts, Obama trouncing Hillary and NOT being sick anymore!

Hikes, Politics and Back to Work

2008-01-11T15:51:00.000-08:00

This was my first week back to work after an awesome 3-week vacation. I direct Next Generation, a community organization I founded 5 years ago to help young people learn more about social issues, gain leadership skills and take action for peace and our environment. As much as I believe in what we do, it always feels challenging to come back after an extended break. I certainly feel a burden in my role as director, and boss of 6 people. Saving graces for me are our inspiring programs and the amazing people I work with. Check out www.gonextgeneration.org if you want to learn more.

I went on a beautiful hike with friends this past weekend. It had rained for days, and we hiked probably 6 miles round trip through the beautiful misty hills and valleys of Marin County, where I live, to Carson Falls. Here's what it looked like!

More pics of our little voyage are on-line at www.flickr.com/photos/22247862@N03/sets/72157603682961628/

Wow, that's a mouthful of a URL. You can also click on any of the thumbnails below.

www.flickr.com

Finally, politics. I was elated that Barack Obama won the Iowa Primary, and saddened that he lost New Hampshire. I still think he has a good shot. I know I'm anti-Clinton - she's far too corporate and conservative for my taste. I'm still confused about Obama - I think he's doing a masterful job communicating to some of our deepest hopes for this country and the world, but when I explore the meat of his issues, I find them quite centrist and unispiring. I'll share more of my thoughts in the days to come. In the meantime, I'll say that electoral politics is always a choice between 2, and Obama seems better to me than Clinton. This election will be so very important, and younger adults under 35 may well be the deciding factor, as they were in Iowa.

My First Time Surfing...in Maui!

2008-01-01T12:59:00.000-08:00

OK, the much awaited video has arrived. Hookipa, Maui. Famous surf spot. Check me out!

New Year's 2007!!!

2008-01-01T12:51:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year everyone! Friends and I celebrated by going out to dinner, then cruisin' between the jam packed rockin' local dive bar, a very mellow gathering around the fire at our friends' house, and a hippie dance party at the local ayurveda center, all very nearby (within 100 yards of each other), and so very far in terms of style! A fun, rich night.

Somehow, I spontaneously grabbed a friend's red slip and dressed like a (hairy) girl. It was fun, confusing, and very cold.

That's me strutting from one party to another in 30 degree weather. God it was cold.

You can thoroughly enjoy more photos on the wesbite for the Fraternorority I run at http://bdsanga.googlepages.com/main Check out BDS New Year's.

Hawaii Video!

2007-12-30T16:15:00.000-08:00

Sweet! Here are 4 short videos (15 - 45 seconds each) from my trip!

Big Island Rainforest

Swimmin' Sea Turtle!

Humpback Whale Watching in Maui! (We saw much more than this, but it'll give ya a flavor...)

Full Moon Solstice Party on the Beach, Maui!

And coming soon, My First Time Surfing!

Hawaii pics!

2007-12-30T15:58:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've learned more about computers in the past three days than in the past decade. For some reason I just chose to have as little as possible to do with any of this. Well I've taken a (brief) hiatus from my self-imposed technological exile to learn to do all sorts of things, including uploading and posting photos and videos from my recent travels to Hawaii.

It was an awesome trip: spontaneous, relaxing, adventerous, and stunningly beautiful. I saw many whales, sea turtles and two
gorgeous dolphins, swam at amazing beaches, hiked in the splendor of the rainforest, spent good alone time, met great people, gazed at the stars and awesome sunsets, and topped it off with one thing I wanted to find for sure: a full moon drum dance solstice party on the beach!

The pics will say much more. You can check 'em out at www.flickr.com/photos/22247862@N03/sets/72157603682991764/ or by clicking on any of the thumbnails below.

www.flickr.com

Also I'm negotiating YouTube right now, an incredibly complicated new website I'm sure you've never heard of. It allows you to post videos on-line! Incredible. Complicated, but it's worth all the trouble. Stay tuned...

Titles, Sickness and Trouble in Pakistan

2007-12-28T18:37:00.000-08:00

My blog has a name! For now at least: Krouzin'. I like it. Deb wins the special prize! Her other suggestions were quite good as well. I also want to thank Eldad (not surprisingly) for the funniest suggestion - "Red, White and Jew" - and Lindsey (not surprisingly) for the most obscure: "Diaries of a Cantonese Necrophile".

So I guess on Blogs are like a diary. Well, today I was weathering some illness. I don't like to ever admit I'm sick unless I'm really, really sick, and I'm not. I slept from midnight till 11am, then napped from 1pm to 2pm and again from 4 to 5pm. I was very tired all day, but it was cool, because I got to read and write and work with my photos, and of course, blog. Again, as if you cared.

Finally, I want to give my take on the troubles in Pakistan. Former Prime Minister and opposition leader Benazhir Bhutto was assasinated there yesterday. I felt sad. I don't know much about Pakistan, but I do know a lot about US foreign policy, and I'd bet the farm the US probably had something to do with it. Who knows? Either way, if it was current Prime Minister Musharaf and / or the Pakistan Intelligence Service, we've had a long, sordid history of supporting both with weapons, training and intelligence. Either way, what few Americans know is that nuclear-armed Pakistan, nestled between Iran, Afghanistan and India, is teetering on the verge of collapse as its US-backed dictator faces a growing domestic rebellion and is responding with brutal repression. My guess will be Musharaf won't be able to weather this storm. God knows what will happen.

Thanks mom for reading! Mom?

3 Hours later and I'm still on my blog

2007-12-27T14:23:00.000-08:00

Shit I'm getting sucked in WAY faster than I anticipated. It's 3 hours later, and I still haven't taken that shower. I've gotten 2 whole comments, engaged in a few email exchanges, made a few minor tweaks to my blog...and yet something feels missing, like when Homer gets the computer and is like, "That's it?! That's all it does?!" Well at least it was free. I need to go now. I'm starting to stink. And get hungry for lunch! So now I'm off for real. I think. As if you cared.

Holy shit! I have a blog.

2007-12-27T11:46:00.000-08:00

Wow it was remarkably easy to create a blog. Maybe a little too easy?

I really don't like technology. Don't get me wrong, I'm no dummy - I could do it if I wanted to! When I was 9 I programmed my Commodore 64 to calculate New Jersey State Sales tax on any item. It was quite complicated! When I was 17, I came home from school one day, learned how to program the TI-82 graphing calculator they made us use in calculus class, and created a crude Black Jack program, all before dinner. On Monday I came into school and "shared" the "program" through a "network cable" with a good portion of the advanced students in my grade (the less advanced kids just used really playing cards). It was a big hit, except doubling down sometimes caused the whole system to crash. That, and a week later a kid who now earns more in a week than I have since 2002 programmed a racing car game complete with graphics and sound. And there went my short lived coolness amongst advanced math students at Fair Lawn High School.

So back to the point here. These days I just don't like to use computers anymore other than for work, and even then hate it. I have many reasons why perhaps I'll share one day. On a gut level, the scene in office space where they beat the shit out of the fax machine is one of my favorite moments in movie history (I do own a TV, but it's not plugged in - just for a movie here and there). I don't own a cell phone or a digital camera or an I-Pod or an I-Phone or an I-River or an I-anything that would confirm I live in a 21st century developed (though crumbling) nation. I'm so behind my 62 year-old (doesn't look a day over 49!) MOTHER recently invited me to join FaceBook! For real. That's sad. And good for me.

So why am I creating this blog? Actually that's a good question I may want to sit with a bit longer before I get sucked in to this world. I can feel it starting to happen, like Anakin being seduced by the dark side, or Matthew Broderick's tragic decent in Election, or that weird guy putting his wife in the meat grinder in Fargo. Yikes!

Anyway, what's the worst that could happen? Those guys turned out just fine, right?

OK so I'm creating this "blog" so I can tell you about my trip to Hawaii. That's it. No grand intention to save the rainforest, no deeper purpose to explore my alter-ego or open my heart to strangers. I just want to show you pictures from Hawaii, because I just got back and it was fucking awesome! OK and I imagine in the future you'll also be privey to additional postings, like future trips to Hawaii, and other places, and the occasional heartfelt, left-leaning yet pragamatic and well-written political analysis, and perhaps updates on various gatherings I enjoy hosting, like Hanukah, Passover, and sponatenous cuddle party of the month, and a bunch of other stuff I will spend way too much time creating for way too few people to read.

Cool, so there it is, my first "post". 18 minutes of my life, gone. I'm gonna go take a shower.

Peace,
Roni

PS - I haven't figured out how to "upload" my pictures from Hawaii so you'll have to wait.