There is so much good in my life right now, I feel the 'big blessing dump' has become a waterfall: an unending cascade that has swept me, arms thrown up in surrender, along in its current; content to ride the red carpet on planet earth that I have so (thankfully) been enjoying since ... gee I can't remember when.
Weary of writing (or not. preoccupied, perhaps, with other people-places-things) I walked down to the ocean. In Carpinteria I was a half block from the beach; here I am a whopping four blocks - it seemed an eternity (ha!) as I tiptoed barefoot along 13th Street with its neat colorful cottages, and traversed the Electric Ave. park where young lovers made a picnic of cheese, crackers and wine, sprawled out, oblivious to the world, on a horsehair blanket.
A predominant hum of birds enveloped me: a 360-degree surround sound of chirping-chatting-chittering-twittering birds; while colors of the rainbow bloomed. Fuchsia bougainvillea, purple pansies, yellow daffodils, red geraniums, the prolific white jasmine ... I snatched a bouquet of lavender and rosemary and breathed deep the scent of the impending summer.
The sun hung low, casting long shadows on the footprints (human, avian) on the sand, and shot golden light on the wooden pier outstretched in the sea. A trio of youngsters, their blond heads haloed by the sun, raised cyclones of dust as they rumbled rocks (imaginary trucks) along paths in the sand. Families gathered, couples strolled, old women gossiped; all awaiting the anticipated sunset that would mark the start of Memorial Day weekend and the beginning of summer. SUMMER!
I walked the sloping beach, laboring in the uneven sand, and thought of a conversation I had with Dee. 'What did I want most?' she asked.
'To be healthy.'
'More healthy?' she replied, puzzled. She was right. I am pretty darned healthy. And I had already bumped up a modicum my good health practices (be more diligent about taking my vitamins and calcium; joined a small, quiet gym to keep my parts strong) so instead I circled 'To be happy' on the list in my head, and pondered my good fortune. (Ha! 'More happy?' Dee would no doubt ask ... )
The sun set and the sky grayed. Catalina sunk into the darkening horizon, and the air cooled. I returned home, eager to write (always a good thing), excited for weekend and days to come.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Sunday Sonday
How amazing to get to walk just three blocks to church, on a brisk and breezy FREE Sunday morning, with nothing more pressing for the day than the need and desire to eat and write. And listen to music. And pour over photos from Thailand, and my other fantastic travels. I am sooooooooooooo blessed.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
News from Thailand
I’ve been uncharacteristically mute during this remarkable trip; both because of the scarcity of wifi in the remote anchorages of Phang Nga Bay, and how busy I’ve been on the charter … Add to that the inability to charge up my laptop with any regularity, and the lack of desire to sit in front of it when I could be enjoying the sites from the ‘chick boat’ or hanging out with Neil (as I did the final, delicious 24 hours of my visit to Thailand) ... Hence the 'radio silence' however as usual, “no news is good news” -- but at long last, having checked out of the Supalai Resort, and sacked the gift shops in Phuket Airport, we boarded the plane(s) for our 15-16 hour flights yesterday bound for home. With prominent memories of the last nearly two week adventure I'd hoped to produce an update on the plane: except I’m just too darned tired. Our trip was a total sensory saturation, and I need time to do it justice, so in the meantime – enjoy the pix!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Setting Sail
May 9We’ve been lucky: it hasn’t rained (so far) – allowing us some wonderful pre-sail explorations of Thailand.
We’ve gone elephant riding, taken Thai cooking classes, enjoyed traditional massages where the petite women customarily jump on the table to twist and thump your body into a vegetative state; shopped, walked, lounged by the pool, done morning water aerobics and 12-ounce curls* in the afternoon (* beer drinking), and last night: took in an extravagant Ladyboy cabaret in Palong Beach – where young men dressed as woman (who look better than I ever have or will) (in costumes that would make Liza Minelli jealous) dance, prance, sing and sashay to pop tunes and traditional Asian music alike, after our gourmet dinner at Mom’s Tri Regatta restaurant, where we doubled up our happy hour drinks and enjoyed the posh surroundings of the Royal Phuket Marina, beneath a spectacular heat lightning show (‘In Vietnam,’ explained Holly, when worries of potential rain and thunder arose). (Yes this is a tremendous run-on sentence however it gives you an impression of the non-stop, can-you-catch-your-breath? excitement our gals have experienced since we arrived!)
The hotel (Supalai Resort in Ao Po) has treated us like queens (or, I should say more clearly: ‘royalty’) shuttling us around in the air conditioned van, while we gape and point out the windows at the temples and scenery; so everyone is healthy, safe, well-hydrated and happy.
But today is Mother’s Day and our adventure takes a turn. Around noon we’ll board our yacht (we haven’t nicknamed her yet) and set off for our first anchorage. A few of us sat around the table a couple days ago with Captain Morgan (great name for the head of a yacht charter co. isn’t it?) going over charts and perusing our many options for anchorages. We have the lush scenic islands and karsts of the north bay, sandy beaches with monkeys and giant lizards to the south, and several coral reefs to snorkel and explore along in between. I imagine we’ll do some of each: in typical character of our women who want to do it all!
Our internet access now is about to become nil though (until perhaps, when we get to Phi Phi – pronounced ‘pee pee’) so fear not! We’ll send our SPOT messages out regularly and email/post whenever we can.
Happy Mother’s Day to you all! Over & out - Betsy
Friday, May 7, 2010
Waking up in Thailand
It would be hard to miss the sunrise today: the misty floor-to-ceiling windows shot pink by the breaking day.
I snuck out the sliders into the steamy dawn. Birds called. Insects tested my naked legs. The air was sticky and warm, and hung with the pungency of some over-ripe fruit. June snuck out to join me on the balcony and after attempting some photos (with our fogged up cameras) we tiptoed down to the pool, where June did yoga exercises, and I slid in the water for aerobics.
It was tepid, barely refreshing, but deliciously fluid – especially after the long flight and motionless night. The water was sprinkled with white plumeria blossoms that floated to the edge of the eternity pool; from my perspective, it appeared they would spill out right into the Phang Nga Bay.
After partaking of a ridiculous variety of breakfast foods we took the truck, with its wooden benches and slatted bed, to Ao Po Marina, for an overview of destinations and anchorages. Snorkeling, kayaking, monkeys, lizards … jelly fish :-P
Later we went on our elephant safari: too wonderful to describe in such a sleepy state so I'll just link to some photos … Let’s just say it was delightful, with another busy day planned tomorrow.
XO
I snuck out the sliders into the steamy dawn. Birds called. Insects tested my naked legs. The air was sticky and warm, and hung with the pungency of some over-ripe fruit. June snuck out to join me on the balcony and after attempting some photos (with our fogged up cameras) we tiptoed down to the pool, where June did yoga exercises, and I slid in the water for aerobics.
It was tepid, barely refreshing, but deliciously fluid – especially after the long flight and motionless night. The water was sprinkled with white plumeria blossoms that floated to the edge of the eternity pool; from my perspective, it appeared they would spill out right into the Phang Nga Bay.
After partaking of a ridiculous variety of breakfast foods we took the truck, with its wooden benches and slatted bed, to Ao Po Marina, for an overview of destinations and anchorages. Snorkeling, kayaking, monkeys, lizards … jelly fish :-P
Later we went on our elephant safari: too wonderful to describe in such a sleepy state so I'll just link to some photos … Let’s just say it was delightful, with another busy day planned tomorrow.
XO
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Land of Smiles
5/5/10Someone has tossed sand in my eyes, I swear, as I pry them open after a fitful sleep. There is nothing – ever – comfortable about sleeping on a plane.
Outside it’s black; the big dipper rests on the starboard wing. Even though we left at 1:40AM, and have been on the plane seven hours (nearly halfway there) it’s still night, as we are flying west, away from the breaking dawn.
Our group had convened at LAX around 10:30PM – a flock of ten excited, excitable women; bound for Thailand and adventure. It was like Girl Scout camp, from days gone by: meeting long-lost friends, and new-found friends, you’d talked to but never met, saying, “I never pictured you with short hair!” with a smile.
Now, subdued by lethargy (with the exception of Sherry Davis, who is never subdued) we huddle near Jeanne’s seat at the back of the plane until the wobble of turbulence foretells the ding-dong of the fasten seatbelt sign. June and I grab glasses of wine first; making believe it’s 10PM not 10AM – as the sky is still dark. But the orange-blue smudge of a new day promises on the horizon: we have left today behind at the international dateline, but tomorrow is catching up.
Our route has skirted the southern tip of Japan, and through the cottony haze, we skim Taiwan. Such exotic places! Soon the clouds fade to wisps, revealing green-gray water ribbed with white caps, where cargo ships stacked with colorful Lego-like containers zoom; creating foamy rooster tails in the sea.
We blame the grayness of Hong Kong on the early hour, but later learn that air pollution is at a peak. Skyscrapers rise to an impressive and identical height: there must be a ceiling on construction, and they all built to within an inch of the spec.
This flight is more jovial: we can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Plus we’ve enjoyed the red carpet treatment at Hong Kong Airport thanks to Karele, as her wheelchair attendant whisked us up elevators, on a tram, and then a shuttle, to the Dragon Air terminal. At the end of this flight, too, we’re greeted with a cheerful lavender-suited lady who escorts us from immigration to customs, where our bags are already heaped on a cart (how do they know?) and we’re led straight out without a glance at our bags, to the curb where our drivers are waiting. SWEET!
The hotel staff is equally kind and patient, and Thailand – known as ‘the land of smiles’ – makes a warm first impression. On many fronts: as it is humid and in the 90s when we arrive. The pool also, is not so refreshing; but the server Chet at the poolside bar gives us our first Thai language lesson. (I’m delighted to learn that the Thai word for beer is pronounced “beer” ;-D ) Thailand has 13 different ways to describe a smile – sort of how the Inuit have 100 different names for snow …
Later tonight we’ll dine at the restaurant here and perhaps stroll down to the beach; tomorrow it’s elephant rides and a preview of the sea charts; Saturday – Thai cooking class, and a LadyBoy show. But right now it’s naptime … or perhaps just a chance to s-t-r-e-t-c-h out after being crammed in our airplane seats, and bask in the cool of the air conditioned hotel room!
(PHOTO: VIEW FROM OUR ROOM)Tuesday, May 4, 2010
On the eve of departure
Of all the crazy, exotic places I have been, Thailand has never been on my radar screen. Perhaps it’s too remote, too … surreal. Other-worldy; other-timely. And now – it’s the eve of departure. I leave in 25 hours: for Phuket.
Unique about this trip (as if the destination isn’t unusual enough) is that I’m neither guest nor grunt, but part of the organization, running the show. This is a major step up for me which I’m liking: although right about now it’s getting frantic, with the women (we have eight paying guests) wound up about flights, seats, activities, currency, oh and the potential revolution. The questions mount: What DO we do if there’s a tsunami? How will it impact us if the government is overthrown? Will I really look like Goliath next to so many petite and lovely Thai women? Do jellyfish sting?
For now, it’s all guesses and expectations from my little room in Seal Beach. Surrounded by my ‘things’ – trophies from previous travels, the knick-knacky-equivalent to ‘comfort food’ (like my colorful fishy mobile from a beach in Cabo; tin gecko wall hanging from Costa Rica; mola from San Blas; and art from Hawaii, Australia and Buenos Aires) I try to conjure up a visual of Thailand: flowing silk, turquoise seas, dancing, bizarre music, spicy foods. But it’s all flat: all one-dimensional, as it’s tired, I’m late. Let’s try that again: I’M TIRED, it’s late. Bedtime is nigh.
Tomorrow at this time … enroute to Thailand!!
Unique about this trip (as if the destination isn’t unusual enough) is that I’m neither guest nor grunt, but part of the organization, running the show. This is a major step up for me which I’m liking: although right about now it’s getting frantic, with the women (we have eight paying guests) wound up about flights, seats, activities, currency, oh and the potential revolution. The questions mount: What DO we do if there’s a tsunami? How will it impact us if the government is overthrown? Will I really look like Goliath next to so many petite and lovely Thai women? Do jellyfish sting?
For now, it’s all guesses and expectations from my little room in Seal Beach. Surrounded by my ‘things’ – trophies from previous travels, the knick-knacky-equivalent to ‘comfort food’ (like my colorful fishy mobile from a beach in Cabo; tin gecko wall hanging from Costa Rica; mola from San Blas; and art from Hawaii, Australia and Buenos Aires) I try to conjure up a visual of Thailand: flowing silk, turquoise seas, dancing, bizarre music, spicy foods. But it’s all flat: all one-dimensional, as it’s tired, I’m late. Let’s try that again: I’M TIRED, it’s late. Bedtime is nigh.
Tomorrow at this time … enroute to Thailand!!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
'Because you're an athlete'
May 1 2010
7:30AM circle the parking lot, under the influence of too little coffee, for a spot among the already cram of cars … shuffle in my Uggs to the beach … gear up … help lug a 400 pound canoe down to the water (and another, and then another) … wade along the slimy-bottomed bay to my seat … hop in, Ho'omakaukau, Huki, and we’re gone.
The sky is a matte blue promising warmth, but the ocean breeze still cool. I try to erase all other thoughts, save my stroke, but my seat is itchy; my pace is off. It’s cold, and windy, and my muscles complain stiffly.
Why am I here? I mumble to myself, as our canoe of novices (Chris, Soybean, Alan, Big Chris, me and Scott) lurch toward the jetty, but Big Chris hears.
Because you’re an athlete, he replies.
Whoa! I don’t think I’ve even been called an athlete before: I’ve had a hard enough time calling myself a sportswriter. But the thought settles in: ‘What is an athlete?’
I don't ponder long. Today’s paddle kicks my a**. We practice for hours, with breaks barely long enough to gasp your breath, and I’m moved from boat to boat, seat to seat, trying (I suppose) to find a spot for me. I try to do each job the best I can (as far as I know) and be positive. A few weeks ago I was in Ray’s boat. He soothed us with a steady stream of comments: Every stroke you get better, every minute you get stronger. We come here to improve. We are one body, one canoe.
Ommmmmmmm. He is a constant flow of so much positivity he should have been a Spice Girl (if not for his stoic expression and sprinkle of chest hair). I attempt to summon his mantra.
Home from practice I look up “athlete” (after a stop at the grocery store because I’m so hungry I can eat my visor, but I think cotton is a carb so … I buy some yogurt and a tri-tip instead). According to the Cambridge dictionary (those $%*&#! British are always right) it’s, “a person who is trained or skilled in a sport and especially one who regularly competes with others in organized events.”
Wow. I guess I am: if you consider my sailing and now outrigger canoeing. So I go for a run. Gracie (the dog) isn’t home so I have none of my normal excuses for stopping and starting, but still I walk, and jog, and walk, and jog: so many things aching I cannot list them all; along the beach where pale, bikini-clad teenagers push the envelope to get a jumpstart on summer tans; dodging erratic, poorly trained dogs on too-long leashes; squeezing past proliferation after prickly proliferation of fragrant rosebushes. This athlete. That I am.
7:30AM circle the parking lot, under the influence of too little coffee, for a spot among the already cram of cars … shuffle in my Uggs to the beach … gear up … help lug a 400 pound canoe down to the water (and another, and then another) … wade along the slimy-bottomed bay to my seat … hop in, Ho'omakaukau, Huki, and we’re gone.
The sky is a matte blue promising warmth, but the ocean breeze still cool. I try to erase all other thoughts, save my stroke, but my seat is itchy; my pace is off. It’s cold, and windy, and my muscles complain stiffly.
Why am I here? I mumble to myself, as our canoe of novices (Chris, Soybean, Alan, Big Chris, me and Scott) lurch toward the jetty, but Big Chris hears.
Because you’re an athlete, he replies.
Whoa! I don’t think I’ve even been called an athlete before: I’ve had a hard enough time calling myself a sportswriter. But the thought settles in: ‘What is an athlete?’
I don't ponder long. Today’s paddle kicks my a**. We practice for hours, with breaks barely long enough to gasp your breath, and I’m moved from boat to boat, seat to seat, trying (I suppose) to find a spot for me. I try to do each job the best I can (as far as I know) and be positive. A few weeks ago I was in Ray’s boat. He soothed us with a steady stream of comments: Every stroke you get better, every minute you get stronger. We come here to improve. We are one body, one canoe.
Ommmmmmmm. He is a constant flow of so much positivity he should have been a Spice Girl (if not for his stoic expression and sprinkle of chest hair). I attempt to summon his mantra.
Home from practice I look up “athlete” (after a stop at the grocery store because I’m so hungry I can eat my visor, but I think cotton is a carb so … I buy some yogurt and a tri-tip instead). According to the Cambridge dictionary (those $%*&#! British are always right) it’s, “a person who is trained or skilled in a sport and especially one who regularly competes with others in organized events.”
Wow. I guess I am: if you consider my sailing and now outrigger canoeing. So I go for a run. Gracie (the dog) isn’t home so I have none of my normal excuses for stopping and starting, but still I walk, and jog, and walk, and jog: so many things aching I cannot list them all; along the beach where pale, bikini-clad teenagers push the envelope to get a jumpstart on summer tans; dodging erratic, poorly trained dogs on too-long leashes; squeezing past proliferation after prickly proliferation of fragrant rosebushes. This athlete. That I am.