from Chiang Mai, Thailand

Thailand welcomed us back in its usual style.

Upon arriving at our AirBNB, a locked gate greeted us. No one answered the numbers we'd been given.

Bewildered, we asked a neighbor  if she knew the caretaker. She invited us in while searching for someone to call him. We sat on the living room floor and watched The Huntsman: Winter's War --dubbed in Thai-- with her children.

She came back to cheerfully announce that Earth would arrive "in one hour." She offered to cook us dinner while we waited.

All told, we waited an hour and a half for Earth to arrive. He glanced at us to see if we were angry-- we weren't-- and then showed us around the apartment as if nothing had happened.

Oh Thailand, with its unprecedented sense of hospitality and punctuality!

Luckily, the daughter's English is far better than my Thai.

... from Xiamen, China

The one thing I know for sure about China is I will never know China. It's too big, too old, too diverse, too deep. There's simply not enough time. That's for me the joy of China, facing a learning curve that impossibly steep. The certain knowledge that even if I dedicated my life to learning about China, I die mostly ignorant.                                                                          - Anthony Bourdain

I love China. And I hate China. Four months in, here's some questions I ask daily:

• What's that smell?
• Why does everyone stare? What do they think I'm going to do?
• Why won't my apartment complex open our beautiful pool? It's 100 degrees! 
• What do the dozens of strangers who've taken pictures of me (eating, in my swimming suit, sleeping on the train, when I'm about to cry, etc.) do with those pictures?
• Where's the soap? Seriously, schools and hospitals, soap!
• Where's all the obesity/crime/divorce/homelessness? 
• Why do I feel so much freer living in a "communist" country?

Tiny fish eating the dead skin off  Andrew's feet

... from The End of the Earth (Fisterra, Spain)

We arrived in Santiago, and I decided to continue my journey by myself to Fisterra, "The End of the Earth." 

Traditionally, pilgrims burned their clothes on a rock that was once believed to be the western most point in Europe. It represents cleansing or newness.

I walked out to the rock to watch the sunset with about ten other pilgrims from around the world. We enjoyed a picnic and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and community.

I didn't burn anything, nor do I believe half my sins have been forgiven on this pilgrimage. But I do really like walking... still!

... from As Seixas, Spain

In the last thirty days, I've only slept in the same bed two nights in a row once. 

Pilgrims sleep in albergues, random buildings converted into hostels.

We've stayed in train stations, people's houses, and one night even a converted jail, usually for $6 a night. 

We've stayed in mountain towns, real cities, historic villages, beach destinations.

We've shared rooms with hundreds of strangers from dozens of countries, about half of whom sleep in their underwear and a fourth of whom snore.

I've slept on the floor and in a house that reeked of urine.

I can now sleep anywhere.

Unrelated but these are wild horses we saw on a mountain a couple of days ago.

... from Ribeseya, Spain

Miles today: 18

Miles completed: 269

Miles to go: 269 

We had our first difficult group decision to make a couple of days ago. The path split between an easier, coastal route and a more challenging inland route. 

For me, somewhat fortunately, the physical walking thus far has been relatively easy. What's surprised me is how hard it is psychologically to always maintain a good mood and prioritize each other's needs. To get to Santiago, we need everyone to be physically and emotional functional. 

Once again, we've chosen the harder path. We're going inland and I think ultimately it's the good way for everyone. More importantly, we're all still friends! 

We'll miss the ocean, of course, but we're excited about gorgeous mountain views on the inland route 

... from Güemas, Spain

Everyone says you have to stop in Güemas. The hospitalera, Ernesto, is just so nice.

It's easy for the volunteer Hospitaleras to get frustrated with the constant stream of pilgrims. We arrive stinky, exhausted and hungry. We ask dozens of questions, often in poor Spanish.

Today, we were greeted with smiles,  glasses of water, and cookies. The accommodation, massages and group meals are donation-based. Even though he's not here, Ernesto is making The Way so much easier.

It reminds me that we make choices about how to treat tired, annoying   pilgrims around us everyday.  And how much that can matter.

We saw this sign posted on the gate of a random house in a village today. While the translation is poor, the sentiment is amazing.

... from Lezama, Spain

Day: 6 (June 3)

Miles Today: 12

Total Miles Completed: 75 (roughly)

We're learning what "Camino friends" are. 

 I'm hiking with two other Americans close to my age. Although most of the pilgrims are European and older than us,  they've embraced us. We cook each other dinner. We do laundry together. We know each other's physical weaknesses and daily check-in with "How's your knee?" or "Do your feet feel any better today?" 

Maybe voluntarily putting your body through pain is a bonding experience. Maybe the kind of person who uses their vacation days to go on a spiritual pilgrimage is just super kind. And the cheap but delicious Spanish wine certainly doesn't hurt. 

... from San Sebastián, Spain

Day: 1 (May 29)

Miles Today: 15

Just after we began, The Camino offered us a choice-- the good way or the other way. The good way began with what our guide book described as a "brutal ascent," but had an ancient fort and towers surrounded by gorgeous ocean and mountains. The other way was easier, but less spectacular.

We chose the good way. It was rough. A fog set over, and we couldn't see anything anyway. 

When explaining the trip we're on to other travelers, we are asked, "WHY would you do that?" 

I'm still not exactly sure. But it seems like choosing the good way. 

... from Madrid, Spain

This morning I visited El Museo Tiflológico, the Blind Museum. Everything inside could be touched. Pieces included famous landmarks at 1/200th of their original size. This allowed me to imagine what it would be like to visit places like the Taj Mahal and the Eifel Tower if I were A) blind and B) a giant.

The highlight for me was the replica of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, the end destination of our hike.

Which makes me wonder: would it be easier or harder to hike the 500 miles if I were blind and 200 times my current size? (Comments Welcome)

If everything goes according to plan, you'll see the real one in about 37 days.

... from Columbia, MO

I'm back!

I've decided to hike a 500 mile trail across Spain: El Camino de Santiago. Christians have been hiking it in veneration of St. James and to score points with God since the Middle Ages.  It also inspired the Olle Path where Andrew and I spent our happiest moments in Korea.

Not surprisingly, I've decided to go last-minute. The last weeks have been a blur of training, reviewing Spanish and buying hiking gear.

I know stories about other people's hike are inherently boring, but I do have a 100 word limit. Plus this way you'll know I'm still alive...

Fifteen pounds of stuff and two feet

(I spent way more time choosing the backpack then deciding to go on the trip)

... from Myawaddy, Burma

We walked across the “Friendship” bridge into Burma, watching boats of illegals going back and forth underneath us.

It was like crossing from the US to Mexico, only in this scenario, the US is Thailand. Burma makes Thailand look like a rich country with great infrastructure and healthy dogs.

The only really pleasurable part of the experience was in the immigration “office”, where we listened to a Brit trying to haggle with the Burmese guard on the entry fee. The Burmese immigration officials, incidentally, are the nicest of anywhere I’ve ever been, but were still unable to reduce the price. 

"You may know it better as Myanmar, but it will always be Burma to me."

 -Mr. Peterman, Seinfeld Episode "The Foundation"

... from Mae La Refugee Camp, Thailand (Part II)

Things I’ve learned about snakes:

1) To kill a snake, hit its head with a stick, then cut off the tail. The snake's life is in its tail.

2) Snake meat is the second most delicious to human meat. (I'm told.)

3) A pregnant woman can’t be hurt by a snake’s poison. If the snake bites her, it will die, because she has her own poison.

4) If you are bit by a snake, try to catch it so you can take it to the hospital. It will help the doctor to know what kind of snake bit you.  

Our house

... from Mae La Refugee Camp, Thailand

Teaching in a refugee camp, I’m quickly learning that my job entails more than just traditional classroom responsibilities.

One of the extras included directing a play to be performed for several hundred people at graduation. I lamented that my sister is not here, who works professionally for theaters. The Vice-Principal told me firmly, “It’s good she’s not here. Now you can learn.”

It's a good motto. I'm realizing that I dread doing practical things. I often wish someone more competent, resourceful, or tougher was here to do the stuff that needs to be done. But now I can learn. 

Andrew with our two stars

... from Sihanoukville, Cambodia

We’re spending a day in a beach town before heading to the capital and then flying to Thailand.

We’re doing laundry, using computers, and trying to buy clothes appropriate for teaching in a refugee camp with no air conditioning in extremely hot weather. (We have no idea what to buy.)

Already, I have stomach problems, pink stripes from sunburn, and too many mosquito bites to count. We have only been in Southeast Asia for two weeks and haven’t event made it to the refugee  camp yet!

Looks like I’m going to have to toughen up over the next few months. 

Fishermen on a river running through the jungle near town.

... from Koh Rong, Cambodia

After being on a primarily homogenous island in conservative Korea, we were shocked by the variety of culture we encountered on Koh Rong Island. "There are so many white people here!" we told each other repeatedly.

It’s an island with no roads, but gorgeous beaches and maybe a couple dozens place to stay.

It was so strange to see scantily clad people from all over the world smoking joints while naked native children played with dogs on the beach.

Even more surprising, however, was to see people sun bathing again, as Korean women dread the sun like nothing else.

This guy was grazing just outside our bungalow.

... from Siem Reap, Cambodia (Part II)

"Have you guys ever seen a monkey in the wild?" Paul asked on the plane. Neither of us had.

In just one day in Cambodia, however, we saw dozens of them. We spent almost as much time outside Angkor Wat watching the monkey families playing as we did climbing around inside.

So far the best thing I've seen is a monkey sitting on a fence drinking a beverage out of a cup with ice cubes. I can’t help but thinking about how much smarter and more capable they seem than the toddlers we tried to teach English to in Korea. 

Running from a baby monkey like a scared child.

... from Siem Reap, Cambodia

We explored the ruins in Siem Reap with only a couple of minor setbacks.

Just outside a temple, Andrew suddenly shouted out in pain.

"What happened?" I asked, very concerned.

"A coconut hit me on my shoulder," he announced, stunned.

I burst out laughing.

Also, an ATM machine informed me, unsympathetically, that my card "had been captured." The bank employees at first refused to give me card back because it's in my maiden name, unlike my passport. But for some reason, I have my birth certificate here. Upon showing it, they begrudgingly released the captured treasure back to me.

Angkor Wat (of course the first post actually is from a giant tourist spot.)

...about the Site

My tiny posts and pictures from around the world are about the small things that constitute life abroad.

Going to famous world destinations like the Grand Canyon or the Great Wall is spectacular. But travelers spend 99% of their time abroad not at giant landmarks. These 100 word posts are about the in-between moments. The lost-in-translation, the terrible bus rides, and the re-learning how to do everything are what make us new people when we go home. More importantly for this blog, they’re also what make us belly laugh and want to scream at strangers.