Vesna’s voyages

This morning I woke up and heard what sounded like Tibetan chanting, a beautiful sound that resonates in the chambers of your soul. It sent me into an instant deep meditation and even when I realized it was actually just the sounds of chain saws vibrating through the hills, I remained there some minutes relishing this connection, however slight, to the East. 

The thing that I miss the most about Thailand and SE Asia at the moment is the interminable jungles. In every landscape, even the vast rice paddies you can see the wide coconut palms, bamboo trees, ferns and tropical fruits creeping in; a ton of nameless medicinal plants ripe for rediscovery and worshipped for eons by local hill tribes and unnamed Shamanic peoples. I regret only admiring this wild mess of plants from afar, studying them only in the vast backyards of temples and when they encroached upon roads that I zoomed past riding on the back of motorbikes – the only way the locals travel.

I did take one beautiful walk to a waterfall and was swept away by the still chaos under the canopy of trees. It was like another world and just felt further away from any type of civilization than any forest I’d ever been in. The various streams underfoot were like universes of eternal contemplation, secrets to indestructibility.

Now I’m back in America and I must say it is still beautiful here, in the lush wine valleys of the pacific northwest where my family has a small farm cradled on the side of a hill. We’re surrounded by pine trees and some oaks and maples turning delicious colors of red and yellow fitting for any Christmas postcard and there’s an exciting chance of snow. But, it’s also freezing cold and since I’m not acclimatized to anything below the eternal hotness of Asia, it’s impossible for me to go anywhere without layers of coats and the discomfort of dry, cracking skin: Going out for a long walk in the woods is pretty much out of the question. In Thailand everyday is perfect temperature, even the rains only bring a brief welcoming change.

Three years ago I was planning a trip with a girl from Alaska to Central America. Well, I backed out at the last minute and she went ahead on the five month adventure through Guatemala, Peru and Ecuador solo. She never returned as far as I know. She was swept away by a handsome Ecuadorian tour guide and they were married and are still living together on the Galapagos Islands. Could I have had the same fate? Well, I guess I’ll never know. But, I did have a similar opportunity in Thailand. In the last five days I was there I decided to go to a little hippy town called Pai. Everyone had been saying from the moment I got to Thailand that I had to go to Pai. It was the place for me. So I made a brief excursion there and found out they were right. I relished every moment; from learning to drive a motorbike through the narrow hilly roads to riding an elephant through the river and then burning my fingers while giving a Thai herbal steam massage. Every moment was unforgettable and the town was visibly likened to a ’70’s Shangri La. I spent the evenings at a small bar outside of town that had live reggae music and barbecues every night. It was attended by the same few locals, one of them a Thai musician I’d hung out with in Bangkok. He was so thrilled to see me he dedicated a Bob Marley song to me onstage and begged me to stay in Pai. He said I could work at the bar along with a few European girls who’d also been swept away by the relaxed beauty of the place. The cosy bamboo bungalows where I would have lived were brand new and straddled a tiny stream which zipped down the nearby mountains. But alas, the realist in me said no. I had to get back and see my folks. I guess this is the reason I’ve always come home even after being in some very tempting paradisaical places. I just have to remember that paradise is every moment, no matter where we are. Maybe if I look hard enough at my computer’s lush Laos backdrop I will be transported here when I close my eyes.