Green Glass Doors

The term "glass ceiling" has never felt so tangible.

Or should I say "glass wall."

This past Monday, I felt like Sarah Koenig visiting Adnan in jail. Except I was in the Changi International Airport, and my Adnan was one crimeless, South Africa-bound Emily Romano. (Sidenote: that said, is Adnan not crimeless himself? And furthermore, maybe I was Adnan in this scenario -- the "Arrivals" section of the airport does have a slightly "penitentiary-esque" atmosphere to it, with the flourescent "floor sized" McCafe as its greatest attraction besides the Exit sign.)

But anyway, our mutually isolated reunion occurred after weeks of eager anticipation, in which I waited for Emily's brief 5-hour layover in Singapore like Michael Scott does Casual Fridays. Finally, the day came for me to journey out to the airport, where I dreamed of indulging on a $30 quesadilla, meeting her friends from her trip, and hearing all about her time in Vietnam.

Ha!

When Tupac said "Reality is wrong/ Dreams are real," he forgot to take airport security into account.

Turns out, Emily wasn't allowed to clear immigration, even for those few hours, as she couldn't have a Singaporean stamp for itinerary reasons (long story). On my end, I approached airline employees with the query, "Can I purchase your cheapest ticket flying out tonight?", only to receive bizarre looks, and questions like "Where are you going? Why do you want to do that? Why are you only holding a smiling Chinese Buddha figurine and a Nook for travel?" This of course, made me wonder 1) What happened to spontaneity? What if I just wanted to leave this place? and 2) What if I was running away from a tyrannical villain whose name I'm imagining to be Scorpion? Would you not sell me the ticket then?

Sometimes, the lack of imagination in Singapore is highly disappointing. Ask anything slightly out of the ordinary and they'll act as though you are one of the giant thumbs from Spykids wearing a tutu and a rasta-wig asking for takeout in the 7-11. (for reference, see: thumbs -- you'll have to visualize the costume yourself). Most locals are incredibly helpful, however, so what many lack in creativity they make up for in genuine kindness.

But I'll carry on.

With the aid of a jovial Starbucks worker, I discovered the existence of the Viewing Mall, where, evidently, Singaporeans go when feeling particularly voyeuristic. This giant window overlooks the inside of the airport, allowing for people-watching galore (though also inviting pitying glances from the occasional passerby who has, say, a life). Emily and I got to motion to eachother noiselessly from here, until *hoorah* we found out about the Intercom station. It is here that we spent a happy few hours, Adnan and Sarah recounting the past month's memories (or, Serially speaking, the lack thereof), eating our respective Subway and Starbucks dinners across the pane that separated us. We even managed to cheers! (window included). It was a lovely evening (despite the frustrations involved), and as always, kept me aware and appreciative of how wonderful it is to have great friends.

Which brings me to my next point.

Throughout my various travels and debacles and obstacles and encounters in this country and/or Thailand and/or life in general, I've seen and experienced some amazing, incredible things. However, without the people involved in these travels and debacles, none of those periods would have been nearly as amazing nor incredible (nor humorous). Without these people, I wouldn't be able to look at those memories as fondly, but also, I probably would be the resident hermit of the Bangkok airport, moneyless and friendless to boot.

Last post, I wrote of my toe-curling, eye-twitch-inducing few hours prior to my flight out of Krabi, Thailand, in which we made it to the airport (not through the airport) 15 minutes before our flight.

Well, lucky readers, now I give you The Strokes: the Sweaty-Palmed Tales of a Penniless Idiot [Part II]!

11 days ago, I found myself in a bit of a fix. After a wonderful weekend in Chiang Mai/ Pai, Thailand (which I'll get to), I arrived at the airport in Bangkok, shortly after our night-bus ride from Chiang Mai.

On said bus, I had to uncomfortably face the window with my entire body, pretending to be asleep as my seat partner and I had just had this horrible exchange a mere 15 minutes into the busride:

(Just for context, the bus provided some snacks in each of our seats before we left.)

Her: Did you eat my pack of oreos?

Me: *swallows tongue* Um what?

Her: Well... I know you did because you stuffed both empty packs in the back of my chair so...

Me: (Dammit, self, why didn't you destroy the evidence?!) Haha! I ... (what do I say -- that it wasn't me? I've been framed? I have Nocturnal Sleep-Eating Disorder, like that girl who ate the entire wheel of cheese in one sitting?) I . . . yea. It was me. I'm sorry.

Her: Um it's cool.

[Just fyi, everything about her tone and body language told me it was NOT, in fact, cool, hence why I pretended to fall asleep literally 60 seconds later. In truth, I just replayed the song that goes "why you gotta be so rude" in my head for the subsequent 9 hours. Punishment, I suppose, for eating her oreos].

Post-bus, all we wanted was to get home, but of course, we were still in Oz and not equipped with our "red heels", aka plane tickets. Upon trying to purchase a flight back to Singapore, however, I found that my card had been declined. I think the bank cancelled it after I bought at $0.99 Alarm Clock app on the Nook (indicating, of course, that I was a merciless identity thief with nothing but money on my mind. The bank simply had to act!) Still debit-cardless, I had no back up plan, as my friend Megan's card was being declined, and Abbey was (again) out of cash, due to how much I'd borrowed for the weekend. Frantic, with the minutes dwindling, I had to send panicked messages on Facebook to about 15 people, in hopes that someone, somewhere, would see it and call my mother for me. (I was still phoneless and neither of the other two had working phones themselves).

These messages looked something like this: EMERGENCY!!! STUCK IN BANGKOK!!! RESPOND ASAP!!!

If I had added a mere few words more, something like "send money and social security number!!!", I would have been just like those email spammers that pretended to be quarantined in the midst of political turmoil during, say, the Arab Spring. Ah, how nice to know I've finally found "my people". Spammers unite!

Ultimately, Sam Russell and Sam Harrell deserve a resounding round of applause (from me, mainly) for calling my mother (sry mom), and basically getting me on my flight. Thank you, thank you, gentlemen (!!!!). Here's a picture of some smiling Buddha-children statues to show my gratitude:

The few days prior to this incident were, of course, magnificent. We spent 2 days, 2 nights in Pai, which is a tiny "hippie commune" 3 hours northwest of Chiang Mai, a main city located in a northern province of Thailand. With the "Pai Circus Hostel" to call home (equipped with a trampoline!), we ventured out from the small, Thai-hipster town into the landscape, where we rode the motorbikes we had rented across highways and backroads for hours. We visited a waterfall tucked into the mountains, a small road-side farm called "Land Crack" (it was positioned near, you guessed it, a crack in the land!), and finally, Pai Canyon, where we watched the sunset while seated on ridges that extended like tentacles from the mainland.

Above: sunset; Right; me + friends on aforementioned ridge.

Also, I would like to mention that, yes, sceptical readers (Ahem, Claiborne), I did in fact drive the motorbike myself. It was bright pink and white and the entire time I felt like it was the Transformer-version of the pink power ranger. I did not crash even once.

The next day, we awoke to numerous "modern hippie travelers" doing yoga on the lawn of our hostel (before throwing their dreads over their shoulders and turning to their iPads to check Facebook over eggs and toast). I apologize to those I offend and I apologize for sounding cynical, but there comes a point when stomaching some of the more obnoxious "backpacker language" becomes a laborous task, and I don't think I've been totally successful. My friend Megan captured it perfectly when she said "Ugh. I just heard a girl over there say 'School?... nah. I was tired of the government controlling my mind and I was just like f*** it man, I'm gonna escape the system. Freedom. That's my school.' Um, congratulations on winning the Most Annoying Human award." Amen. Unless this girl has developed the ability to teleport and/or sustain herself by diffusing nutrients across her stomach like a jellyfish, I'm fairly certain airplane tickets and the food industry alone keeps her well within the 'system'. It's not that I don't support exploration, impulse, and adventure. I do, wholeheartedly. For the most part, the people we've met whilst traveling have been fascinating and very relatable. But, inevitably, the "down with the man"-ers appear and persist, like the Kim Kardashians of hostel-inhabitants. You just have to roll your eyes and mimic what was said well out of earshot. [End rant].

The rest of the day we spent in and out of food markets, trying different fruits, vegetables, fried somethings-or-anothers, and even bugs!

Yes, lucky viewer, that is a bag of entrails up above.

(Actually I don't know ... I thought it was entrails but now I really have no idea. Chalk it up to contemporary art -- interpret how you will!)

To the right is the bug. It tasted very much like you would expect a bug to taste -- dirt and sponge.

That night, we went back to Chiang Mai, where we stumbled upon the Flower Festival Stage Performance, with a large group of dancers singing and dancing while lights and flying cameras floated about their heads. Though I've been hard pressed to find much information as to why this festival occurs, (aside from Chiang Mai being "the Rose of the North"), the light shows and flower floats were something to behold. [See Photos section].

Here, we also ventured out to the Doi Suthep temple, a short drive outside the city renowned for the golden dome and beautiful temple paintings. One of my favorite scenes was the following:

It's like he took "Hit the Road Jack" just a bit too far -- I mean, really, what in God's name is going on here? The rest of the [unpictured] mural is perfectly pleasant, with monks meditating or animals celebrating, and then BAM! Unknown demons decide to drag this man through what looks like asphalt by his one foot alone! I've looked for backstories, origin stories, something to explicate this scene, but have gotten nothing. However, I must note the resemblence to the ululating cat of St. John's island. I've found the feline incarnation of this miserable monk, perhaps.

Our last tourist-y stop was the Karen Long-Neck Village, which, I'll be frank, was absolutely awful. This "village", a

bookmarked destination for most travelers, consists of a narrow row of "tradition shops", overseen by women wearing the historical golden neck rings of their ethnic tribe. The cultural significance of the neck rings is debated, but due to a high degree of Western/ tourist interest in seeing the long-necks, the painful, destabilizing practice persists. Basically, this tribe--attempting to escape ethnocide--settled just past the northern borders of Thailand from Myanmar in the 1980s and 90s. Multiple human rights institutions have discouraged and even attempted to ban the neck-rings, but because of the economic/exhibition value of these women, the Thai government has perpetuated the practice in refusing resettlement agreements for the Karen people.

The entire experience felt very much like visiting a human zoo. It was nauseating, especially seeing things like this -->

It was a "development" nightmare, to say the very least. And yet, I went. Many people do. My opinions and disgust with the exploitation is definitely not unique (read anything online and you'll find the same reviews), but the "Karen Long-Neck Village Stop" continues to exist on every scheduled tour. It's always a listed "attraction" with the hotel concierge, and regardless of the disheartening nature of the whole thing, I doubt it will be put to an end any time soon. I don't have much else to add, aside from bringing to light a very blatant example of the dangers in tourism, especially human-exhibition tourism. I'm not sure how one could act in this situation, as I am so far removed from all parties involved, but I do feel that I couldn't leave this unmentioned. Do with the information what you will, but please think about it.

On a lighter note, here's a photo of a monk in Doi Suthep. He looks like a Buddhist Steve Zissou from Life Aquatic. I took this right before he splashed me with the customary sacred water as I kneeled before the giant buddha just to the right of the frame.

Chiang Mai and Pai were both great places to visit, and I highly suggest going if you ever have the time. Northern Thailand is drastically different from the beach towns I wrote of last post, but the different regional atmospheres and personalities are definitely worth experiencing.

Since returning on Feb 9, I've been in Singapore, going to class and gallivanting across the city. I went to watch the Thaipusam festival earlier in the month, during which Hindu men pierce themselves with needles and rods, bearing decorative shrines-of-sorts as they proceeded throughout Little India in a spiritual trance. The women involved splashed them with milk, and the entire ritual ended in the biggest Hindu temple in Singapore, where they discarded the piercings (I think) and continued to worship the god of war, Kartika. In "photos" you'll find a video of one of these men dancing. Here is an upclose of his predecessor's face. This man's expression perfectly captures my sentiments before soccer practice in high school.

Otherwise, I've just been enjoying the city. We've gone to a couple of fun events (my favorite of which involved a "street party" on Haji lane, the same lane where I was *dreadfully* photographed amidst the fake movie set. There was a dj playing hits from the 2000s (haha) and a lot of Turkish food involved. It was a "Turkish" Delight!

Yesterday was the Chinese New Year, so this week, of course, has been a grand affair. There were fireworks and parades and Chinatown was amass with visitors wanting to join in the festivities, but I was lucky, because I got to eat dinner with my friend Jairus's parents on this auspicious eve. (Hey Jairus!!) Jairus (for those who don't know) goes to UVA but is Singaporean, so I got in contact with his mom, who kindly invited me to a dinner with her and her husband in their home. We steamed pork, chicken, kalamari, prawn, and fish balls (how I imagine the human eyeball would taste...) and it was delicious. Except maybe the fishball. At the end of the night, they presented me with celebratory oranges, as well as two giant jars of almond cookies and "lucky doggie cookies" (shaped like dogs ... crazy!). It was an evening well spent, so here's to Mr. and Mrs. Ang!!

Tomorrow, I leave for Bangkok, where I'll be spending the week drawing and painting in various Buddhist temples. My entire art class is going together, and I'm extremely excited. Hopefully this trip will go by smoothly, but in efforts to protect myself from my worst enemy, myself, I'm not only knocking on wood but lighting prayer candles and whispering incantations for good luck in my single room. Living alone has done wonders for my sanity!

To conclude, here is hat number three, a simple cap that fit with my simple budget toward the end of Chiang Mai. I feel like a royally employed scholar and/or maester of Essos wearing this, but as it doesn't cover my ears, it's utterly unreliable as far as warmth is concerned. It's purely cultural CAP-ital ... ha ha ha!

And also, I just have to include this picture that aforementioned Megan (hey meg!) showed me, not because it is relevant to anything in particular but because I think it is the funniest thing I have seen in some time. There is possibly no greater testament to how predictable my sense of humor has become. Alas.

So long, friends!!