The Religion of Traveling, pt 4: Hospitality and other Treasurers from Jordan

During the weekend my friend and I explored Jordan. We were quite nervous . We expected many troubles and security checks at the border, and some strong big guy asking 1001 questions when we wanted to enter Jordan, but after crossing a border (with signs « there are mines » and sniper towers... ok this was a bit scary) we were welcomed by two custom officers, who said our host was a lucky guy, and asked us : « do you've something delicious for us ? » They were joking, and did not refuse to be on the picture with my friend. 

After waiting in the shadow, among taxi drivers, our host picked us up in his very nice blue jeep. He is an owner of a travel agency. He is an intense guy, with a warm heart, and showed us a lot of hospitability. He took us to a camp in the desert, where we danced with children and students from an university in Amman. He took care we could sleep in one of the tents, and got a great breakfast, like in a real Lawrence of Arabia movie. You know... The same day he took us into the Wadi desert, to show the house of this guy, stone bridges, showing his driving skills, which gave us a lot of adrenaline rushes, and brought us to Petra.

And yes... Petra... it deserves the label of a World Wonder ! Here is a picture of the Treasury. The only annoying part was the hassling: you will not find much peace, when you walk on the main road, because everybody tries to convince to take their horse, donkey or camel. 

But... it is all worth it. 

My travel buddy was laughing, because I was so amazed by all the geology. I couldn't stop filming, or taking pictures. The whole way to this famous typical postcard building (the Treasury) is Al-Siq, and is just a cooler alley in history, archeology and geology, and will take away all your breath. When you cross the Treasury, you'll come in more open space, and can admire the tombs, or ascend for one hour more to the Monastery, the second famous building.

We drunk tea with a woman in her tent, who invited us after to buy souvenirs, but we could leave without buying, and had instead a nice talk about her children (she got her first child when she was 13y old). We also talked with a bedouin guy. In Petra, apparently, you have bedouins and gypsies. The last group spoil the good reputation of bedouins, who would never ask money, like our host, who never asked money for anything, and even was offended when we wanted to pay. The tourism kind of spoils the people. Both groups tell bad gossips, to take tourists away from their rivals, so when hearing different stories like "they told I raped women, but I don't. It is just because they are jealous", which all went about how tourists are lured into loosing money or having sex, I don't know who to believe. I think it is very interesting to spend one month, with the bedouins, observe them, see how they found a symbiosis between modern technology and their traditional way of living in tents and the desert, and who they really are, behind the mask they wear when they try to sell souvenirs, or their donkeys. I cannot judge. I haven't been long enough in Petra, to understand what is really going on. In the end, my friend and I walked back, and saw how all the people packed their stuff, became more relaxed, and didn't talk anymore to us. It kind of gave us proof they have two different personalities: one for the tourists, and one for themselves. I think the best thing I can do as outsider is to have respect for BOTH personalities. Because... I also have different masks in my luggage. 

The Religion of Traveling, pt 3: Beauty & the Dead Sea Beast

For 3 full days and 4 nights, my friend and I were couchsurfing in Ein Gedi Kibbutz, which is one botanical garden. The atmosphere is totally different than in busy Jerusalem. While the latter is more a heavy Bach symfony, this place is more a Manu Chao song.

People share, know each other (in this small community), walk sometimes barefoot, all look free men, and not bound by religion. It is like living in the free paradise described in the famous book « the beach ». There are giant baobabs everywhere, and there is also some plant. Our host, a very easy-going guy, known by everyone, took us on the first evening already to a small look out point which is built out of respect for a dead friend, and under the stars he let us make music by drumming on some wind catchers. He also taught my friend about aloevera, which is everywhere. « It is almost like garbage in the botanical garden, » our host told her. My friend already took almost a whole plant, and put it in the fridge, because the sap of the plant can cure mosquito bites (which started to occur, when we went more southwards).

One day we visited the Dead Sea. Floating in the lowest place on Earth, is apparently very healthy. We got for free in the spa. No way how we did it. Or maybe a bit. We just ended up on the beach, in fact, not in the real spa, were floating there, and covered ourselves in mud. Everything for eternal youth, I guess?

The day after our host took us to Masada Fort. Very early in the morning my friend and I hiked up via Snake Path (name is because of the shape, not because it is full of snakes ; otherwise I would never take it), when the sun came up, and for many hours we enjoyed the history and archeology. While my friend dived in all the information, I dreamt how I would make an amazing romantic historical epos about the siege by the Romans, which ended when all the Jewish rebels killed themselves and their families, because they rather wanted to be free than slaves. I already decided to take a lot of epic helicopter shots, because the landscape is stunning : The salt, tectonics and the dry climate shaped some amazing features in the rock. Of course I also would work a lot with shadows, being lines of prison, to emphase the Jewish rebells were stuck. Yes, I can see this movie. I only need a good story, about love (maybe forbidden), and oh yes... money.

In the evenings and some mornings we share really interesting conversations with our host. He talks about his experience with the real religious people in Israel. We didn't know the religious people don't pay any taxes, and only pray. They got a lot of money from the government. In Antwerp, we've got also religious Jewish people, and they are quite isolated from the rest of our population. To be honest, I don't know anybody who has friends from that small island in my city. The religious people also don't go to the army, and our host claimed they were maybe the biggest enemy of the state, because they have their own court and rules. Sometimes, I wonder, what is Israel ? Also, in Jerusalem, we, or in fact my friend who read a lot about the coloniation of Israeli's in Palestine territory, had some discussions with our host, and although my friend likes to find strong arguments to make an opinion, I am still confused what to call Israeli, or what not. Jerusalem is totally different than Ein Gedi. In Jerusalem I couldn't relax, in Ein Gedi immediately, to give an example. In Jerusalem you've to dress like a penguin, here in Ein Gedi you can wear just your bikini... still... it is the same state, nation ? It is very interesting to hear stories, opinions... but at the same time so confusing.

On our third day, we went to the nature reserve. We hiked up via water fall to a look-out where we could admire the Dead Sea. My friend and I split up ; she wanted to refresh herself, and wanted to hike faster, while I wanted to take many pictures and footage. In the end, I hitchhiked with a guy, with his jeep full of yellow spots, with his hyperkinetic dog, the Dead Sea Beast I call it, who tried to push me out of the car. Or it seems. The dog was jumping to everything and everyone. When my friend and I were waiting for sunrise above the Dead Sea, and our bus to Eilat in the south, we met him back ; two times. He invited us to spend time on a local beach, but we had to move on. Our time in the Middle East is limited. The dog almost attacked my friend. He is quite a figure. Like our host. Ein Gedi is full of interesting relaxed people, all a bit quirky, but I love it.

I think these 3 days were full of nature, hiking, relaxing and beauty products. My friend and I bought enough mud to become real princesses with shining hair, but maybe it is not a good idea, because in the next days we go to a more « conservative » country. I don't know Jordan is very strict, and we'll have 'female traveler's problems ', but still... we don't know anything about the country, apart from the fact you can find Petra, one of the new World Wonders, there, and the idea it's the heart of the Middle East (neighbours are Syria, Iraq, Saoud Arabia...). We've got an Couchsurfing invitation from someone from Petra. I wonder which song will remind me to these country. 

Religion of Traveling, pt 2: What is Jerusalem?

My friend and I stayed for 3 days in Jerusalem, one of the most famous cities in the world. In ten minutes, we'll travel to the Dead Sea region for some hiking and exploring the healing powers of the lowest place on Earth, but first I want to write quickly about this city, which is one of the most intense places I have been. 

stilt from footage from the Western Wall, Jerusalem

So... Jerusalem... how to describe it? It is difficult. The best solution is just to ask you to meet my friend Google. He can give you 1001 different ways to experience Jerusalem. I am very sure. I love a challenge, so I thought about what is Jerusalem for me.

For some people, it is belief, for others it is history and archaeology, for more political involved people Jerusalem will be associated with the Palestinian conflict... 
I see Jerusalem as music for listeners who use more than only their ears. 

One of the most magical moment is when an amazing local young woman was our guide for some hours in the late afternoon, early evening. It was golden hour. We went walking down from Mt. Zion in the direction of the golden mosque. We saw a young man playing guitar for a young girl, on a wall, with Eastern Jerusalem (Arabic part), as a big grey background. We stopped. I made some footage (of course). And then all the lights went on, one for one, in this district, and then the big call for prayer filled the air. It all became one big music piece... all the religions, the beliefs, the colors, the symbols... 

Jerusalem is like a drum circle. You have different people, all with a drum, a message, and they all start to drum with different frequency, and maybe it does not sound right, but then the heart starts to give the rhythm... and then the heart of the circle, not from the individual, makes from all the sounds one melody, all the drums become in harmony, until it like one heart beat. It is amazing to believe that so different people, with different frequencies, habitants, pilgrims our tourists, all make one city. You cannot say you are from Jerusalem. You become part of Jerusalem's heart beat, and when my two friends and I were sitting there, listening to the call of the prayers, I felt I belonged there, in the heart of all these religions.

For me... belief is one of the most powerful tools. It does not have to be belief in a religion, but can also be hope for a better world, or belief in good things. Without belief things become very dark... 

Also, II'll edit all the footage I made, and make a small 4-5minute video, trying to explain how I see Jerusalem, in another way. I decided to choose for handheld, because the impressions are so intense, I feel fluid, shaky and short shots, or following people in alleys... are best representing my feelings of feeling a drop in a wild ocean. 

stilt from footage when walking in the Old Center of Jerusalem

Silence... the Sound of my Romance

Yesterday morning I stood in the train station of Antwerp, waiting for my small journey to Gand, where I work for the Film Festival. (Yes, we also start to work in the weekend, because it starts next week.) 
It was so loud. The machines were so loud. People talk so loud as possible so everyone can hear them. There are everywhere ads, with violent colors. People hurry, people think "me, me, me", when they want to embark on the train, and even I am part of this whole cacophony. I am working too hard, and I feel how days become grey (and not only because the winter in Belgium is going to start). Then I realized what I really want. 

I want to be a quiet person. Point. No exclamation point.

The days before my cousin and I talked about our destinations in life. She wants to become a stylist, helping people to look better, by letting them feel better, and to advise them how they can change their food, colors of clothes and life style to feel better. She is 30 years old. She is going to start a blog soon: Letstalkaboutyouand...
She works as a shop assistant manager, and is already in this sector for 10 years. She studied photography, food consultancy, colors & style... and now she has found the perfect study. This is in Amsterdam, and as some of you know, it is expensive to study in the Netherlands. While university and other higher education has fees between 0 and 600 euros each year, it is 5000 euros in the Netherlands. It is still not so much if you compare the prices in UK and USA, but I don't want to talk about their ideas about equal chances. Even 5000 euros is too much for most people in Belgium, which is not really ranked as a "poor country". My cousin is a single mom. Amsterdam is 2hours by train from Antwerp, but it is expensive for her to travel, and also pay day (and night) care for her baby.

I am 24, and I don't know exactly what I want. I love geography, nature, writing, traveling, meeting people, silences, gazing at world maps, eating strawberries with my hands, tasting salt on my lips, dreaming about guys, you know... I studied some things, but I don't know what I want to be. I have dreams, ideas, values... like breaking stereotypes, taking care of nature... but there is so much to do I got lost. I want to take care of the nature, but my 2-3 jobs take me away of really being the "green" person I want to be. After this internship, I decided to work already part-time, and do more sports, yoga, gardening, spending time in my house, decorating and cleaning it, reading books... to become more the person I want... In fact, I want to worship Silence. When Loudness dominates my working world, I want to enjoy the Silence, the sound of my new romance, who is now neglected.

But then... I wonder... why can I not also worship Silence in the working days? Why can I not be silent, when I work? People expect you to be competitive, assertive... but that creates only stress.  It would be interesting if skills like "active listening", not striving for visual cool, but for visual beauty in your work, to have breaks... That is my strongest challenge... to learn to say no, and find a balance, not in dividing my week in "silent" and "loud" days, but to divide each second in a silent and loud part.

I still don't know where and what I want to work, but I promised myself that at least one criteria for choosing a job will be that I can see chances to be more myself, to be more in balance in this job, and can find place for Silence in my job, even if this job does not get good paid as others, where you will be overwhelmed by sounds in all seizes and meanings.

The thing is... I should not be afraid to be poor... because that makes you really poor...

Machu Picchu

Immortality is hidden in every corner. When Fiona and Niall entered Machu Picchu, they felt they were in another world, far far away from any reality. They felt like nymphs wandering around between the old ruins, lying hand in hand on the grass, touching old stones, discovering mythical animals...

But nothing is forever. He was from Australia, she was from England.

They seperated.

Still, even their love faded away with every day they didn't see each other, the friendship remained. And the promise. Almost two years they planned to travel together, and this time they would visit another world wonder : Taj Mahal.

They would hike together, as these days in Peru, in Nepal. Fiona's friend could arrange a very cheap hike, so she told Niall in a mail about it, and he asked for more details. He ended the mail with many hugs. He was already going to the North of India, several weeks before she should leave, with his best friend, but he would wait for her in the airport.

She sent him the details of the hike, and waited for the mail. She smiled, remembering him climbing rocks, for the adrenaline, but also meditating to become one with the landscape . He took pictures of a story he didn't understand. He took « Frames », in which different landscape elements like branches, stone pillars... were a frame. They talked so much, about love, death, pain, parents, future, and their countries and it's strange habits.

A memory popped in her head, where they found a whole carpet of red butterflies on the earth. She reached her hand to a butterfly, who flied up, and -to their surprise- landed on her ring finger. He took a picture, and add that Mother Nature is the biggest witch he knew.

According to Fiona, Niall loved kicks, so he could feel alive . He was the kind of guy who spend money in skydiving, bungyjumping... he was so afraid for the rat race. He was like a tragic hero, she felt, from the Ancient- Greek myths. He was looking for immortality...

In their last evening they had danced the night away in Cusco. She still could feel every emotion of that night : joy, pleasure, fear, anger, sadness... every color of the spectrum.

A week passed, and he didn't answer. She did not panick. She would leave only in 3 weeks, and she was used to wait for answers from him. A second week passed. She got a bit irritated. She was a bit afraid that she would arrive alone in scary India. In the third week, she planned to write on his facebook wall a big subtle message to ask for attention. Suddenly she saw all the other messages beneath the one she was writing. First, she didn't realize... but then it appeared everywhere... RIP Niall.

It became totally white for her. No emotions.

She scrolled down and down. She couldn't believe this could have happened to him... to her ... This is a story for a cheesy Hollywood film, not for her life. She had so many thoughts, words, emotions, images, memories... crossing her mind that she never really got over it, and even years after, she can cry... in a sudden moment, when a memory touches her eyes.

India was not so crazy as she expected. Yes, she went. India, with all his colors and smells, was maybe the best cure for her. In the first week she saw how a car hit some Indian people, who flied in the ground, and landed on the earth. A whole red carpet spread the floor. She looked up, and the only thing her broken heart thought was that nothing is forever... After she visited the place where he died on an overdose, she went to an internet bar, and looked to the black screen. Since then, she does not like it anymore when lovers and boyfriends.. don't write back soon. She is afraid they will never write back...

Her lovers and (ex)boyfriends don't understand why she gets upset if people don't write back... because she doesn't talk about him. Talking about him makes him too mortal. She wants him just to be someone of her past... so she could continue to live... 

"You need experiences to write about"

Recently I started to watch the HBO-series "Girls". Several months ago, in the cold winter of Prague, someone told me I remind her to one of the 4 characters. Of course I like to know how others perceive me (hello, I am a social being), but I forgot the name she mentioned. Months later, after watching 2 seasons, I still don't know which character I am. I have something from them all... or maybe I don't want to accept how others see me... but that is another story. I want to start this message with one of the main concerns of the main character, a wannabe-writer... You need experiences, great story... to have enough inspiration to write. But... what kind of inspiration do you need?

Today I am pickpocket. Yes, pickpocket. I came back from my work in Ghent, by carpooling, and had to take the metro in the heart of Antwerp to one of the quarters, where I live now, with the two dogs of my cousin. I was reading the "new Twilight"; the Iron Fey Series by Julie Kagawa, when tram/metro 5 came. I put my iPhone (yes, the number 5...) in the pocket of my coat, embarked the tram, and put the tram card to the machine... and then someone told me someone else took my phone. First I didn't realize it, then I ran behind the guy, lost him, cried... took the metro, cried there, people in the tram told me to go to the police station close to my house... When I arrived there, it was closed. Then i started crying. A whole bunch of muslims passed, and the woman stopped, and asked me what was going wrong. I explained, and then the whole family came around me. They were from Kosovo. The boys and the two men brought their aunt and her children back home, "coz it is not safe to let women and children walk alone", and they didn't understand why I was alone. They took care of me, helped me, and brought me to their Pakistani nightshop keeping friend, who let me call the police. The police on the phone sent me to Handel, in Antwerp, which is not the neighbourhood where you want your kids to wander around. It seemed I was in a world with only horny Arabic man.
After 2-3 hours I came back home, and thought about the different emotions.

At some point I was so angry... so disappointed... maybe even racist at some point in my mind... until these warm muslim family from Kosovo came. There were girls, with big black eyes, the young boys were giving their opinion and called foreigners bad... it was funny, seen from one perspective, how a blonde white girl in a trendy coat, and a whole group of muslims, from different ages from 6 until 30, helped me and let me smile, and let me feel back strong.

Maybe I am too tired to tell the magic I felt from this family, even in this hard evening. Maybe I need a short film to show my gratitude how happy I am.

I am a bit sad... of course. I lost a lot of money, also important numbers, notes, (instagram -yes, I am an instagram hipster)... and even messages which inspire me a lot. Recently I wrote someone about passion as stones, and love as the ocean who can erode stones...  I liked that metaphor... but someone stole it from me, and I hope the person who got this message from me yesterday, will send me back.

Sometimes... things are not lost. Even in this world you can find back magic and solidarity from lost times... 

Colors in Stories

                    

Since a couple of weeks I am preparing the production of a music video for the amazing group "Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes". I love this band already for years. Some songs remind me to memories, or persons. Every time I hear 40 Daydream I see myself in one of the most happy and inspiring weeks of my life, waking up early in the day, surrounded by the sound of the jungle of Koh Phangan, a Thai island, singing, doing yoga, writing, touching leaves when I run to supermarkets... I lived like in a Daydream there. So many amazing things happened there to me. Desert Song accompanied me a lot when I was hiking in Argentina. Kisses from Babylon, the first song I heard, was brought to me by a music video. Someone shared it on his facebook, and it appeared on my news feed (viva social media... I guess). I saw the music video... and I was in love with Edward Sharpe and his band, bringing so much music and color in my life. And now... this band gives every film maker the chance to make a music video. The winner gets some money, and becomes the official music video. 

So... since two weeks, my friends from Visual Okapi and I are brainstorming. I will not tell too much... just that I love the whole preproduction, even I am so busy doing 4 other jobs. 
You get so creativity, and also get inspired so much others who join you in this process. Today I met someone from Visual Okapi I only know his name. He is going to be one of the cinematographers. He sent me as preparation a video, called "Holi" and it is amazing. The colors are so inspiring. Such movies, such moments... give reasons, colors... why you want to invest all your time and energy in dreams and passions, although you've 4 other jobs. 

I was a bit sad last week, because I heard I failed an exam, which keeps me away from calling me a graduate. I don't know why I fail for this one, while in the last 6-7 years I passed exams which were 100 times more difficult. I try already for 3 years (6 exam attempts) to get over this last subject, but I don't succeed. It  absorbs all the colors from your environment. 
I know I am not motivated for the subject: it is Macro-econimics, telling how you can put whole economy of government, consumers... in formula. Maybe I don't like this whole capitalism... because I feel, or I want this, I grow more into ecology and sustainability.  
But I am also a human, who has to survive, and find a decent job so I can pay bills. I cannot live forever in Neverland. In the end of this fairytale Wendy flies back home to become adult. It is good to have passions and colors in life, but you also need a white canvas, structure and responsibility in your life, I feel. In Belgium, being a academic undergraduate is not enough...
... so I don't know what to do after my internship, which will end in October. I think I am afraid. 

But maybe fear is a good thing. Or maybe not. Who says... 

When this person of Visual Okapi and I went to the forest behind my house to do some location scouting for the video, I witnessed how a big tree fall down. The gardener was cutting down two trees, because he was going to plant a whole row of  garden trees for a fence, and these two old trees would drink all their necessary water to grow. It was impressive. One hour later I explained the camera guy that one part of the forest was more wild, because we didn't come there, because of the tragedy that happened there. "Now I witnessed how powerful the fall of a tree is..." I murmured, "I understand why people can get killed if they get this on their head."Still it is a mystery. I saw the tree falling, and it went so slow... that I wondered every person could step out of the wrong direction...

... or even if time goes slow... can you not step out the wrong way? 

Maybe I shouldn't bother about a diploma I don't care about. Maybe I lose my life by thinking too much about regrets and fears... than enjoying the colors around me. 

Later they burnt the trees. The smog went to the forest. It was spooky... and beautiful. 

The Masks of Thailand

1. Elin Dahlstrom was a redhaired, tall Swedish girl, with a face in the shape of a heart, traveling for already three months in South and East-Asia. She was 22 years old, almost 23, and had a diploma in economics on her name. On a bed on the 67th floor of the Sky Hotel in Bangkok, she sat next Oren, a guy from Israel, she met one month earlier on a mountain in Nepal. Suddenly he started to caress her arms, took her hand and kissed the palm. She loves this.
2. “What is your favorite movie?” she asked, to kill the tention. 
3. “Into the Wild,” he replied. 
4. She already knew this. 
5. “Whatʼs yours?” he asked, when he bended over her. 
6. She closed her eyes, and felt his lips on her face and neck. She kept talking. “Into the Wild also... mmm... Breakfast Club, mmm, yes, there, mmm, oh yes, Panʼs Labyrinth... and Amélie Poulain... and mmm... oh yes, of course, the Princess Bride... The Virgin Suicides... Motorcycle Diaries... Mmm...” 
7. He stopped, laughing. “That is a long list.” 
8. “Iʼll send you the list later,” she said, when she looked in his dark eyes. 
9. “Youʼre such a nerd,” he said, before he gave her a kiss. 
10. “I love the most Casablanca,” Elin said. 
11. “Why?” 
12. “It is so sad, and at the same moment... so beautiful...” She sat back... “that Ingrid Bergman and Humprey Bogart let each other go in the end.” She did not say that. She could not say this.
13. 
    
14. Around 6oclock in the morning she sat, wrapped in the linen of her bed, behind the window and looked to the Apocalyps, when Orenʼs snoring was the hymn of her loneliness. She had never seen such a weird sunrise. Bangkok was covered by smog and brown light. She had the feeling she was looking in the future, but she knew she was in the presence... the scary, arty and at the same moment so beautiful presence. She went back to bed, her skin against his skin, and listened to his breath. She wished this song was not made by swans. He was going to Krabi already today, when she was going to meet a friend in the North of Thailand. He invited her to find him afterwards, but she had a bad feeling about this separation, because she knew in ten days heʼll fly back to Israel.
15. It is weird to miss already someone, or something, when he is still present in the presence. She missed him already. It. Him. She did not know. It happened before that she was together with friends, family or lovers, but did not feel happy, but reckless, and sometimes she wondered what was wrong with her. 
16. One day, she promised herself, she would write a song about her emptiness.
17. If she only had the voice of Adele, these feelings would make her so rich as the emperor of Japan.
18. 
    
19. Around 9oclock she goes to the 78th floor. He stayed in bed, because he was a guest of her, and hadnʼt paid for it. The buffet was mountainous: a culinary world travel. As a real explorer she traveled in Japan, Italy, Thailand, France, and even Pancakeworld. She ate too much, she knew. Mini waffles, mini pancakes, mini tuna sandwich, mini maki -she had no idea that there were even mini versions of sushi, while she thought the portions were already so small-, mini vegetarian lasagne, mini vegetable salad, mini portion noodles with egg, mini toast with all different kinds of marmelade, mini chocolat croissants, normal bananaʼs... One hour she lost half of the calories back on the 67th floor.
20. 
    
21. Around 11oclock she and Oren looked to the view on the roof. They did not talk too each other. They just looked to the skyscrapers of Thailand. During the taxi drive to Khao San they did not talk, but looked each other through their window to the many streetfood vendors, gross buildings and the restants of the floodings. 
22. On Khao San they hugged each other.
23. “Iʼll see you over a week in Krabi,” he said. 
24. “Yes,” she said. They hugged each other, and then Oren walked away from this story. Elin wished that this was just a sad moment in their love adventure, as in every movie, and that they will have a happy reunion in Krabi, but when he walked away, something stayed. She could feel it.
25. 
    
26. She turned her back to it, and discovered the backpackerʼs hub of Thailand. She bought new clothes, fresh fruit juice, and looked to all the tanned people around her, a bit jealous. When she looked up from a folder with bus tickets to Chang Mai in a local travel office, she hold her breath, because she recognized an old travel mate. 
27. “Oh... my ... god... Gary?” 
28. He laughed. It was two months ago since they have said goodbye in Jasailmer. That is in India. They had done there together a camel safari. She will never forget the nights under the starry sky, the moaning of the camels who sound like the Sandpeople of Star Wars, the beatles who made mini snowmen from sand, and also the farting of the same Sandpeople. Gary was a blonde guy from England, who reminded her to his golden retriever whose pictures he keep in his green wallet. His dogʼs name is Fluffy, which she thinks is a weird name for a golden retriever. 
29. “What a small world,” she said.
30.  “This morning,” he said, “I saw on facebook you arrived in Bangkok, and reacted, but obviously you did not have been on the internet yet. It is really a coincidence we met each other on street in such a big city.” 
31. “Not when this street is Koh San,” said the young brownhaired tall guy next to him. He had a black eye, was really tanned, and wear only a color ful bermuda pants which did not cover the black spots on his belly. Gary introduced her to his American friend Marco. They met each other in Cambodja. After a small awkward silence, Gary invited her to lunch with them. They ate street food -of course, that is what tourists do in Thailand. Gary told her about Laos, Cambodja and Vietnam, compared Khao San with the old part of Bejing and about his future travel plans. Mostly of the time Marco was the center in the story. He was really a caricature. He is a schizophrenic guy who wants to save the world, wants to save whales and wants to build a city in Asia, “with monkeys, elephants, aliens and LEGOland.” He drank beer on street and burped loud to passengers. When we cashed money out of the ATM, he asked so loud that everybody in Khao San it could hear how much 10000 bath was. It is much. He asks tourists if they have marihuana and scares buddhist monks by jumping on them and asking them on a very loud and rude way if they could bless him with their holiness.
32. 
    
33. They went to the river banks, where they walked over some sandbags which holds the last water of the floodings of the last weeks which had dominated the households of many Thai people, and sat on a bench, saying nothing. Marco had sometimes blackouts. Last night, Gary had to find him in the tourism police. Nobody knew what was happened to him... He woke up, somewhere, with bruises and wounds, and no money. That is why they went to the ATM.
34. 
    
35. In the evening they decided to go to a pingpong show. In a dark corner of the city, where the lights were blue, and the air smoky, and where Elin imagined a whole maffia film, the two young guys and she looked how Thai girls danced totally not so enthusiastic on a small stage, with some pales, took off their underwear and nitted it around their legs, which Elin thought was a good idea to keep your underpants instead of loosing them somewhere in the wrinkles of your bed linen. The girls blew ping pong balls in soup bowls and even took razors out of their feminity. Elin looked to the audience. Old couples, soldiers, business man, young guys, girl friends... everybody wanted to see it. Elin wondered if people go to Thailand with the same reason she did. She had has always associated Thailand with sex, bestial desires, sex tourism, lady boys, lady bars and hookers. This country of spicy food, spicy lingerie and spicy remarks awakened some fire in her, and she imagined herself dancing on that stage, everybody looking to her. She went to this trip of 6months in Asia to become someone else, she only can be in her dreams, to have the freedom, and then she wonders how much freedom the Thai pingpong girls had. But...there are different kinds of freedom...
36. One of the acts was the whole kamasutra by an old Thai man, and a young girl. Elin missed Oren at that moment, although she was between two hansome guys. She wondered she missed him, or it. No, if it was “it”, then she should have seduced one of her two companions. She missed him. The idea of him. She smiled when she remembered her promising him a list of movies. When the guys paid the bill of the drinks, Elin asked one of the girls behind the bar how long they had to practice to do these tricks. 
37. “To train our muscles... one week maybe,” a girl replied. 
38. “Do youʼve muscles there?” Elin asked surprised. 
39. “Yes, of course,” the girl said. 
40. Elin blushed. “So... How long do you need to train the razors trick?” 
41. “That's bit longer... maybe... one month.”
42. “Does it hurt to train this trick?” 
43. “No, of course not,” the girl said. 
44. 
    
45. After this show they went in the gay district of Preetochai. Marco had a déjà-vu, and Gary and Elin were teasing him he was maybe there last night. Elin convinced them to enter a gay bar, “because I also joined you to the pingpong show”. Gary put his arm around her shoulders, and pretended that she was his girlfriend, but that did not stop the lady boys in their attempts to get him and Marco in their bed. Also the audience was diverse. Soldiers, tanned Russians with fake blonde hair, and... men who looked like her father. 
46. “Normal”, that is how they call these man. 
47. Gary got disgusted (“I donʼt want to be bangcocked,” he said afterwards), certainly after Marco was touching the fake boobs of a ladyboy. They decided to go to the cocktailbar on the 83th floor of the hotel. The three young people took the free welcome drinks of the lounge, and looked to the ocean of different colors and lights, when Elin was zipping her cocktail.
48. 
    
49. The next day she bought a Iphone. She went to Petchbury Road, and saw everywhere Thai hipsters, with glasses, ipods and short skirts. She became jealous, because they all looked gorgeous. Hello, this is New York, but with pad thai instead of donuts, and ice tea in stead of hot coffee. Elin always wanted to live in New York, and become one of the women of Sex and the City, where she should have amazing romances with coffeebars, clothing shops, and different men. She could see also a life her as an urban girl. 
50. She passed the big Christmas tree at Platinum Shopping Mall, people collecting money for the victims of the floodings, wondering Thai people are also celebrating Christian holidays, and turned into the big IT paradise, called the Pantip. There was no charm in this building, but there was a big supply of electronics. It looked like a bowl with too many fishes. She bought her iPhone, and then she started to parade, as one of the trendy Thai girls, she called her mother, ordered coffee in Star Bucks and shined in the dirty Bangkok. She wrote a mail to everyone, in fact to Oren - the rest did not matter- that they all could contact her on a Thai number.
51. 
    
52. On one of the virgin white beds in her room she explored the virtual space of her Iphone. She jumped from one bed to another, took funny faces in the mirror of the most fancy bathroom she saw in months (she had paid a 3nights in a 4star hotel, as an early christmas present for her), looked to Bangkok on her feet, looked to her Iphone, abled the internet on her phone, checked her mailbox, and did not find anything. There.
53. She knew that it was easy to fade away into the nothing, in the big emptiness, in the big grey mass, in the brown smog, and she could dress herself in Louis Vuitton, parade with an iPhone, drink fancy coffee made with beans plucked by poor Ethiopian people... but it does not matter if you know youʼll sleep alone in your room.
54. 
    
55. In the early afternoon, Gary and Marco waited for her in the entrance of the hotel. Marco was drinking another welcome drink he plucked from the reception, and they told her they want to find some costumes for the Full Moon New Yearʼs Party, the center of Wonderland, where there are no limits. With her iPhone -and she liked it to organise this search on this way, and that she was doing it, because then she felt like a Charlotte from Sex and the City- she took them to costume shops. When they tried durian - according to the Thai the king of the fruits- they wondered which costume Elin should wear. They decide she should be a classy film star like Marilyn Monroe. Elin loved this idea. After the fruit break, they wandered around in Chinatown, with the ducks, shark teeth, tous, flowers and rubbish, and in the labyrinth of the shops near Pretchbury Road, but they did not find the masks and costumes they wanted to wear.
56. 
    
57. That evening she took the bus to Chiang Mai. She saw the astonishing White Temple, did Elephant Ride, a Jungle trekking, Bamboo Rafting, and this all with a good friend, but even in the heart of the jungle, where only the waves of the sounds of frogs could reach her iphone, she tried to check her mailbox.
58. 
    
59. When she arrived in Krabi, alone, she had no clue in which hostel Oren slept. She even didnʼt know if he still was in Krabi. She explored the beaches, looked to the sun, but she did not find them. She drunk more coffee, ate icecreams, did sea kayaking, and found the time to read 4 books she planned to read for ages. She got finally tanned. When she was finishing a book, she got a message. It was from her Gary and Marco. They were also in Krabi. They met each other in her favorite coffee salon. They convinced her to take tomorrow a bus and boat to Koh Phangan. 
60. “Why should I go to that island?” Elin asked. 
61. “You know why,” Gary said and he winked. “People go with a reason to Thailand, and especially to the Full Moon Parties.” 
62. They do. For many persons Thailand is Wonderland, where people can be rich, crazy, or a trendy urban girl. And Marco was the Mad Hatter. When Gary went running on the beach, Marco told her that two nights ago he had again a black out. 
63. "You totally don't remember anything?" she asked. 
64. "No... by the way do you want to marry me?"
65. She laughed. "You're sooo mad. But... I have to say no. I am in love with someone else."
66. He touched his heart as if Elin just had broken it. With too much drama of course. 
67. “Who?” he asked, after the drama was over. 
68. “A guy.” 
69. “Really?” he asked on a sarcastic way. 
70. She concentrated on her coffeecup, licked the last bit of her spoon and wondered how you call that in English. The last bit of coffee in a cup. Rubbish? Left over? A memory? 
71. “I was hoping for a girl,” Marco said. “That should be hot... you know... to be married with a lesbian.” 
72. Elin frowned her eyebrows. 
73. “So... where is Prince Charming?” he asked. 
74. “I donʼt know. I hoped he was here.” She told him about the last month of that life. 
75. “He sounds like the love of your life,” Marco said. 
76. Elin bite on her under lip. “I donʼt know if all these amazing things really happened.” 
77. “How?” he asked not understanding. 
78. “All the happiness in the past does not feel real, after he left me, and ignores me. I donʼt even know why he ignores me. Sometimes I feel it is all in my head... and what does it matter? It is over... Maybe... I know... He moves on.” 
79. “Why should he do that?” 
80. “Because there is no future for us. I am from Sweden. He is from Israel,” she said. When she said this, she wished they had found their costumes for the Full Moon Party. Then she wondered how he would react if he would read in the news she was a famous person, like Marilyn Monroe, or another classy actress. Should he return to her if she was hot, popular, beautiful, rich? “The past is so flexible,” she said, “ that everything could have happened. Memories fade away, and even get their own life. Maybe I just imagined all this love, and nothing happened, or maybe he does not exist. No, I know it was real. There are pictures, but if they are lost, it is just in my mind.” She grinned. “It is funny.” 
81. “What is funny?” “
82. In the presence it does not feel epic, you know, the whole romance. Only when it is gone, it becomes a sad fairytalish big romance. It is just all in my head. My sick head.” 
83. “You say this to the right person,” he said dry. 
84. “Sorry... but youʼre not so sick... or in fact, weʼre all sick. Every human.” 
85. “Why do you think you are sick?” he asked. 
86. She smiled. “I am sick, because I always whine, first because I know it is going to finish, and afterwards because it is finished.” 
87. “Youʼre not sick. Youʼre normal, very human, maybe a bit too emotional and too analytical,” he said. “I am sick.” He paused. “Maybe he is schizophrenic,” he said. 
88. She laughed. “Why should he be schizophrenic?”
89. “Probably -in these dark nights- I meet the most amazing girls, and then I got a black out, and donʼt remember them. So maybe there are some girls waiting for a call,” he continued. 
90. She looked up. 
91. “Or maybe I pretend I am schizophrenic.” 
92. "Why should you pretend you're schizophrenic?"
93. Marco winked. "It is past, over... isn't it?"
94. He stood up from the beach chair.
95. Then he left Elin to talk with some Thai girls on the beach. 
96. Ofer never wrote back. He just disappeared... 
97. Elin ordered more ice tea. Thatʼs what people drink in Thailand.

The Curse from the Maya's

Another "old note" about my travels in Central-America, April, 13- May, 3 2011
I was going to visit my friend Sarah, who was doing an internship in Honduras for 4 months, and together we would take a diving course... Trust me... the most crazy story - THE CURSE FROM THE MAYA- happens in the end...


April, 13th-April, 17th: Guatemala... or guatever
The first task was to get ASAP out of Guatemala City. I arrived there in the late evening, and it was not really my desire to explore the night life, certainly because a lot of people warned me that the only thing to do there is to get robbed. Or worse. So I took a taxi to Antigua. My hostel -A Place to Stay (5a Calle poniente 42- callejon landivar)- was really a warm big house, owned by Raul and Fernando. In my room I met Beta, a talented photographer of Bariloche. This sweet girl invited me to join her the next morning (too early maybe, but worth it!) to the aguas calientes. Later, we walked together in Antigua, a really cosy town, drinked mojito in a nice bar called Frida (after Frida Kahlo). I love the colors, the cobbles and the sun of this small town!  In the afternoon we signed up to join a small expedition to the summit of the Pacaja volcano. I was disappointed I didn't see lava, but I was happy as a small child when I could melt marshmellows there in the fire. Also the heat in a cave was... unbearable! Descending the volcano was quite... difficult, due to the twilight and the pyroclastic sand. There was so much dust that my nose started to produce black... uh... stuff. The day after Beta, two friends from Israel and I went to an outlook post -cerro de la cruz-. I read in a lonely planet's edition of the nineties that it was the place to be to be robbed, but due to the tourism police it's now quite a relative safe place (or what you can call "safe" in Guatemala). In the afternoon Beta and I spent our time in the market, talking with small kids, doing photoshoots... and admiring the handicrafts. And dancing with the ladies from the handicraft shop haha. Beta  makes great pictures. She has a great photograph I will later about. It is just so touching... She worked in Haïti, after the big disaster...

The third day I went alone to Lake Atitlan. I took a shuttle, where I met nurses from Spain. We hired a small boat and visited Santiago, the hippie town San Pedro and San Juan. In the last we visited a community of weavers. Of course, we used the tuc-tuc once, to experience it. In the way back to home, I met a French guy who lost his group of friends. I helped him to find his friends in Antigua, and discovered with them the night life of Antigua. The last day in Antigua was the first day of Semana Santa (week before Eastern). All the men are dressed in purple clothes (mental note: look up the meaning of it), and they made alfombras (covers made of flowers, vegetables... some of them are really beautiful) on the cobbled streets. Raul warned me for the kids. Especially during Semana Santa there are a lot of robbers, mostly kids. Antigua became a little bit too overcrowded, so it was really time to move to... Honduras!

April, 18th: The shuttle Antigua-Copan

I know that Central-America is ... more... than the other countries I already visited. The corruption is quite obvious. When Suha, a girl from the shuttle, wanted to enter Honduras (you have to cross 2 borders (and pay -"of course"- in both immigrantion offices. I want to thank again Richard to lend me some money, because atm I didn't have any money there, and there was no atm... oops)... but ok, when Suha wanted to enter Honduras, the immigration officer noticed that she was in honduras during the coup in 2009, but has no stamp that proofed that she left the country. She could go to a small office, where they showed her a list of terrorists. She said that she only had 100 quetzales (10 euros), but that was ok to let her go. Money solves everything here. If you are a tourist. Everyone has a gun, or a machete. Really. In the first days i was really nervous because of all the weapons you saw, but after some days you get used to. If you want to protect something, you don't have to think the police is going to help you. Hello, for a salary of only 200 dollars? No, the only thing they do is to suck money out of the tourists. So, are you safe, is the next expected question? no... yes... it's difficult to say. I was heading to Copan, a real drug town. I heard that 80% of all the drug trade from Colombia to USA goes through Honduras, and 20% of this 80% goes through Copan. So it's a real drug town... but protected by the drug lords. If you don't mess with them, you are relative safe. they also protect the tourists, because they don't want all the paperwork, international attention... I heard stories about poor people stealing from tourists... who suddenly disappeared. So you don't have to be afraid of the drug dealers, more from the real desperate people here.

April, 18th-24th: Copan and surroundings

  Finally it was time for the big reunion with Sarah. We talked, talked... talked. About everything. I met her friends -from the local drug dealers to the rich archeologists-. She showed me Copan, La Pintada - a village where they made special dolls, and Sarah and I met the kids Brenda , Lily and their friends who became our photographers and hairdressers... real nice kids!  

We also visit the maya ruins of Copan. They call it "versailles of the maya world". It was really impressive. Sarah, her friend and I went in the very early morning, so there was not so many people, and the mist makes it more mysterious.  

memories from Copan, Honduras April '11

 Sarah has also to work, so if I was not playing the lonely girl hanging on the bar, I hooked up with Suha, and guys I met in the shuttle, or other guys I met in Suha's hostel. With Suha, I visited the Macaw Mountain, drunk beer in the bar of the German guy Thomas, or just walked. Sarah and I also went to papa chango, the local disco, with her colleagues... Also a visit to the river with Americans (where I almost get killed by thousand mosquitoes), eating the amazing carrot pie, visiting a finca (sort of coffee farm)... made this week remarkable. Finca El Cisne was really a nice day... but I burnt my nose there (what causes some problems later), with a big lunch (me encata pastelito de platano con frijoles y fresco de tomarindo!!!), the occasion to admire an amazing view whilst horse back driving... Did I already tell you that I love banana trees?  

I also visited the hot springs, where I gave myself a mud treatment. I think the mud is from volcanic origin, but I am not really 100 % sure. 

April, 25th-30th: Utila, pirates of the caribbean 

- or the PADI open water diving course

In La Ceiba we met Jonas, Sarah's brother, who traveled before in Nicaragua. There we took the boat to Utila, a caribbean island. The atmosphere is really different than in Copan, or somewhere else. I think that Jonas' comparison of this place with the fisher's village from the movie Forrest Gump is really appropriate. There  are a bunch of old guys. Once I talked with them... I immediately felt in love with the 70y old black Thomas. He was really cute. And very witty. 

He asked my age. I said "22", more often, because he always said: "So... 52... " I gave up. 

Then he asked me from which country I am. I said, like I was starring in some Southern American soap, with an accent: "I am from Belgium, sir, where they make the best beer in the world."

"Oh, that explains why you look so good for someone who is 52," Thomas said. 

I laughed. I like the Caribbean way of living... 

We also took diving courses in parrot's diving center. . Niv Silberman was our instructor. In the beginning I was a little bit scared. Underwater breathing is so weird. I know how it feels to be Darth Vader for sure! You also have to do some exercices, as to take your regulator (you breath through this thing) out of your mouth and exhale. I really thought: "no waaaaaaay. I am here... under water, hello? I am not planning to swallow the whole ocean"... but after some peptalk of the instructor and some other master divers (you've open water divers- advanced divers- master divers- assistant instructors- instructors...) I finally decide to go for it, so now...I am a certified open water diver. Bruce Willis Ruins All Movies. And that kind of things have now a double meaning for me. Open water diving is really exciting (apart from the fact that you know that you can swallow whole oceans, get decompression sickness, have to deal with the pressure, have limited time... and blablabla), you see a world you never saw before. I am not passionated, but I plan to do more dives... (and please... without sharks!!!). In the last evening, we celebrated our certificate with our new friends -the really funny couple Petra & Paul, and Ida- and went to Treetonic (or something... one of the hottests bars in the world, according to lonely planet... and in fact, it's really cool. You've to see it with your own eyes! the whole bar is a masterpiece!!) 

April, 30th- May 3rd: the horrible journey

 I already told you that I burnt my nose. Yeah, apart from that, I also moved out on the boat after diving (I miscalculated the weight of my tank. In the water you are kind of weightless... buoyancy blababla) and got a nice wound. The joke that I was bitten by a whale shark. That's one of the reasons why Niv always will remember me, Sarah said. Ok... I had some wounds... in the last days I got blisters everywhere, and kind of pimples... who all changed in wounds with yellow crusts. Also some liquid came from my wound. And in that condition I left Utila for Belgium. I really planned to see the docter asap when I was in Belgium... but ... I seemed cursed. The bus from La Ceiba to Guatemala City broke down in Copan, before the closure of the border. Fortunately -after I almost cried that I really had to be in Guatemala for my flight- they "found" a shuttle. I arrived earlier in Guatemala City than I expected, so I had to look for a hostel, because the airport opens at 4am, not earlier. So, I had to trust the taxidriver (who asked too much money) to bring me to an appropriate hostel... I paid quite a lot for the quality I got... but it was in the only safe quarter of the city. And that's the most important. Also my wounds didn't disappear, but more appeared. In the airport of Guatemala I heard that I was not in the database of the passengers, so i had to look for some people with a laptop to find my e-ticket, write every detail in my notebook and with the help of an old Canadian guy I forced the lady of the desk to give my ticket. I was in the database, but the line of my flight Guatemala-Miami was not complete. So finally... I got in Miami... where I heard that the flight has been delayed for another 20 hours. Great! I should see back my luggage in Brussels. Read: my first aid kid. So, I looked in the whole airport for a pharmacy... and the bloody Americans wanted to bring me to a hospital, where I should wait at least 4-6 hours before I can see a doctor. I preferred to sleep in a proper bed and went to my hotel (iberia paid of course, it's not my fault the staff delayed the flight). When the gay behind the desk saw my wounds on my leg (I showed him to explain that I need the first aid kit of the hotel), he almost fainted. In Madrid I looked for a doctor, who told me to go to the hospital in Belgium. He thought that I had a disease. In Belgium -30 hours later than expected- I went straight to the doctor (after my mother really got almost a heart attack by seeing my face) and he told me that I had impetigo. In the hospital I stayed for 3 days in an isolated room (the disease is very contagious... sorry fellow passengers!!!). I really hate baxters... and it's so weird to take a shower with a baxter, iron thing... and I didn't know that there was somethign as isobetadine soap. After 10 days treatment of antibiotics I am a very healthy girl, working on her master thesis about "sustainable management in national parks in Belgium", and dreaming about her world travel within 4 months.

from the world,

with love

wendy