Koh Lanta Sunsets and Looking Through the Lens

When I was in Turkey in 2011, we had just finished a day of touring mosques by walking up a steep hill past a cemetery. As is law, the cemetery was incredibly creepy but still beautiful as the sun slowly set over it.

Before long, we reached the top and were greeted by this beautiful view over Istanbul:

Immediately, we all pull out our cameras and begin snapping away. After all, if we don't take 15 pictures of the same exact spot and then post them on Facebook, how will others know we have been there?

After a minute or two, our faculty director (and my awesome friend Papa Kev aka Kevin) asked us to put down the cameras, just for a minute, and appreciate where we were and what it meant.


The lesson he was trying to teach us - to look at, and appreciate, life with our own eyes rather than through the lens of a camera - is one I've carried with me in the two years since that moment. Yes, I want to be sure to capture beautiful moments and share them with others, but some beautiful moments deserve awestruck appreciation, without the sound of a camera clicking.

Nowhere is this more evident than in Koh Lanta, Thailand, where I've parked myself for about two weeks. As the island is on the western coast of Thailand, and as I am staying on the western side of the island, the sunsets are pretty spectacular.

I love that I have been able to capture some amazing sunset shots and share them with others. But the most meaningful night, so far, happened the one time I didn't have a camera or my iPhone. I was out for a run (yes, a run. Yes, someone already said to me "WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH KRISTEN?" :-)). As I jogged along the surf, I was treated to the most spectacular light show. I berated myself at first for not having a camera but then I realized - I already had two things with me that could see this beautiful natural creation just fine. And so I did a few sun salutations, and at one point did a literal toast to God with my water bottle, in appreciation of being alive and able to enjoy such a sight.

Obviously, there are no pictures of that. But these next few should hopefully convince you to pay Koh Lanta a visit soon:

Driving in Thailand - and why I'm never doing it again

As part of my resolution to be a Yes Girl in 2013, after about a week in Koh Lanta, Thailand I decided it was high time to get off the patch of beach I had been on and actually explore the island. The best way to do that? By motorbike, of course!

Approximately 3 minutes after talking to my friend at the front desk, I was greeted by two Thai entrepreneurs, a shiny red motorbike, and a helmet. My "driving lesson" was completely laughable - after showing me how to turn it on (which I completely forgot and later had to ask the woman at the gas station how to do it) and indicating that throttling the handle gives it gas, the lads were off. But not before asking me to give them a few minutes head start so I wouldn't crash in to them. Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.

Well, shocker to everyone, but it turns out their distrust in my abilities was completely accurate. At first it was fine - I was zooming along, loving the wind in my face. As I drove past tiny villages and tree-lined streets with the jungle in the distance and the ocean on my side, I was pretty darn pleased with how cool I was.

And then... the incident. The first time I had to make a true, actual right turn (p.s. they drive on the left side of the road here), I completely ate it and skidded into the ground. It hurt. I cried.

I now have a pretty awesome road burn goin' on down my leg, as well as a bruise/cuts on my knee (incidentally, the cuts are EXACTLY over where I already have scars. So will I have scarred scars? Also, that's the name of my new single that I'm going to drop soon, y'all).

(And before people [Mom] freak out - I'm totally fine, and the injury is what I would have if I were riding a bike or even just walking and I tripped, since I was going about 1 mph at the time)

I reluctantly got back on the bike (no other option, really), and shakily drove back to my bungalow. But rather than let the bike WIN, after cleaning myself up I hopped back on to get lunch, make a 7-11 food run... and then immediately turn the keys back in and swear to never drive one again. I'd rather use a regular ol' bike or my barking dogs.

The nice part of the day, even if my leg is very sore right now - there are a lot of nice people around, you guys. The woman at the front desk greets me with a "HELLLOO!!!" every time she sees me, like we're best friends that haven't seen each other for five years, and it makes me really happy every time. When I crashed, a passing motorbike with American gals immediately stopped to make sure I was okay, and a Thai gentleman rushed over to help me get the mirror back on (shhh don't tell the guys who rented it to me...).

After my harrowing adventure, I had to comfort myself the best ways I know how:

Cuddling with a kitty...

Watching the sun set...

And now I'm going to eat cereal for dinner. Koko Krunch, to be specific. And... a chocolate muffin.

Introspective I've-lost-track-of-the-days: I yam what I yam

In my many hours of reflection while transitioning from one place to the next, I fell into a habit of jotting down my thoughts onto a note on my phone with the hopes of developing blog posts around that. The first one I wrote down was "I'm still who I am no matter where I go."

There's the cliche that young adults who go off backpacking, especially in this corner of the world, are on a Keroucian adventure to "find themselves." Surely by lounging on a beach in Asia, traipsing around centuries-old temples and ruins, and chatting with "the locals" (cringe... for some reason I hate that term), one is able to achieve a zen state of realization into Who They Are Meant to Be.

While I didn't think I would stumble across some massive epiphany and realize my path or whatever, a part of me thought that by doing something so completely out of the ordinary for me I would subtly adjust to be that cool person. I've had countless people tell me how brave I am, how bold. Look at me, I am stepping out of my comfort zone by traveling alone in an exotic foreign location with nothing but a bag on my back, the sand beneath my toes, and the wind in my face. It's the whole concept of fake it until you make it. Surely if I pretend that I am brave and adventurous, I will become brave and adventurous!

...Not so fast. Turns out lame K10 is still lame, even when I'm slurping down noodles and sucking back a fruit smoothie in steamy Bangkok. I still hate making small talk, not having a plan makes me really uncomfortable, and my insecurities and worries about my life, my relationships, and my future stubbornly refuse to leave me.

I wish I had a snappy way to conclude this, like, "But then as I sat at my computer watching the waves lap in front of me under a bright sun, I realized that against all odds I had traveled halfway across the world and navigated uncertainties by myself to somehow end up in paradise. Maybe I'm more brave than I thought." But that seems really lame and completely untrue. So all I really have to say is... what I'm doing isn't brave, and I certainly am not brave for doing it. But maybe, just maybe, I can learn to revel in the discomfort.

Kristen's Exercise Series: Climbing 1,272 steps

In my foolish youth, I did my fair share of climbing whatever was in front of me. (Towers or something, I mean. That was a weird sentence). Jenny, Molly and I  climbed approximately 15,768 towers throughout Western Europe (although right now I can actually only think of two... but there HAD to have been more, right guys?!). I did a hike up to the White Cliffs of Dover, dressed like a complete idiot. I even hiked around the moors of England with Mol-lay and Little J, cavorting around 8+ miles in fog and mist.

With all those steps under my belt, you'd think I would be mildly competent at this. Or would, at the very least, wear the correct shoes. NOPE!

And now, without further adieu, the story of how I was completely unprepared for a tour I did in Krabi.

First, because I am benevolent and kind as well as humble and beautiful, here's a little map so you can have a visual pinpoint of where I was.

I was in Krabi just for a little stopover before heading out to "the islands" (or in my case, Koh Lanta. Island hopping is not for me. Neither are backpacker grungy accommodations. I gotta sleep in style, yo!). Literally the only thing I knew about Krabi was that something called the Emerald Pool was really close by. So, I signed up for a tour including said Pool, completely ignoring the other parts of the tour.

I'm the last one picked up, sandwiched next to a French family with an adorable toddler (who all the Thai ladies called "Big Boss." Very accurate).

First stop, the famous Emerald Pool! And besides wiping out and falling on my butt in front of everyone, quite enjoyable.

Next we pulled into the "hot springs." My amazing touring abilities remind me that these were springs that... were hot. Yep. Basically I sat in a natural hot tub for half an hour.

After tucking in to a lunch, we pulled up at a huge temple complex. The guide marches us to the bottom of a staircase, announces, "One hour to go up, half an hour to come back down," and leaves us to our will.

Well, hell. This sounds like fun. I have no earthly idea what is at the top, but might as well go see, right? I breeze past the sign warning that there were 1,272 steps, marching up the first flight of 20. Please note I am wearing my bathing suit, a stupid dress, and OLD NAVY FLIP FLOPS. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

By step 300, I look something like this:

I had just asked an American girl on her way down, "How.... much... further?" (Sidebar, I started assuming anyone wearing Toms was an American and chatting them up. 97% of the time I was correct). She laughed a little meanly and informed me that I was barely a quarter of the way up.

The next 45 minutes were some of the most difficult of my life. I got into the habit of just trying to get up every 25 steps (or every 50 steps, if I was feeling bold) before taking a break. I would literally just collapse on the steps, feebly trying to stay out of the way of others better than I. Please note I also had about a teaspoon of water left, which I was trying to conserve lest death starting hanging around. Please also note that SOME OF THE STEPS WERE THIS HIGH. WHO DOES THAT?! (water bottle for measurement's sake).

Despite my belief that I was going to pass out - again - I somehow stumbled my way to the top. Of course by that time I could care less about what was up there, why I had done my Herculean task, or even why I was in Thailand. I snapped a couple of photos, chatted up some storm chasers, refilled my water bottle (God bless the water cooler at the top. Thank you, Thailand.), and started the painful process down.

This time around, although my calves were burning, I loved being the inspirational figure who got to tell the others, "You're almost there! You got this!" We're all one big happy family.

I'll tell you one thing, though. My shoes came off almost immediately on the way down. Ain't no way Mama's going to go down 1200 steps in rubber flip flops.

Kristen's Exercise Series: Bangkok by Bike

I feel it's been fairly well established that I am not, how shall we say, the most athletic of gals (although I'm trying to change that - and started this evening with a run on the beach at sunset. Not too shabby, not too shabby!).

Despite this, I decided I take a leap and sign up for the Grasshopper Adventures night tour of Bangkok by bike, a couple of nights after arrival. I figured at the very least, it would be a chance for me to chat with other people (and thankfully it was, after about two days of being pretty alone).

This four hour tour took us all around Bangkok, including on a ferry to the other side of the river, exploring temple complexes after the crowds have left, and wandering throughout a night flower market while munching on fresh fruit (I elected not to partake in eating fried grasshopper. Baby steps here, people).

So what did I learn in the latest edition of my exercise series?

Bike riding leads to sooooreeeness

Dudes. I was so sore the next day. I don't even want to talk about it. And very tender in my ... um... bottom area. OUCH.

Philosophically: when you think you can't get up the hill, just find another way

Actually: I couldn't bike up a really steep hill. It's okay. I make lamb. Or just get off and push my bike up the hill.

And the next hill you reach, maybe you get over this time.

AND I DID. Thank you, thank you. I'm a pro by now.

Sidebar: the reason why one drinks bottled drinks out of a bag and straw in Thailand is because the stand has to recycle the bottle.

Fun fact courtesy of the awesome guide.

Thai kids are SO CUTE

Everywhere we went, little kids shouted "HELLO!" at us and waved furiously as we went past. Some little rascals on their own bikes even joined us for a spell.

Most importantly.... Bangkok at night is just beautiful. And 1000% cooler. Although I was still wicked sweaty by the end. And apparently a little Bostonian.

Wat Arun at night

When you gotta go, you gotta go.

Catholic church in the middle of Bangkok... my favorite part is the neon cross at the top. Nice mix of traditional and Bangkokish.

Rows of roses at the flower market - each bouquet only about $10. Gentleman? 

SEE I DID DO IT. (Or I cleverly stole a bike to pose for this picture)

The Devolution to Dirty Backpacker

It happened faster than I thought.

Despite all the things I had read about backpackers tending to be ratty hippies traipsing around the continent, I figured I would stay around my status quo. I've never been a filthy gal, but I've never been particularly fancy either. I may only do laundry whenever my undapants (UNDAPANTS) run out, but I put on my face in the morning and brush my hair and if something is really wrinkly I'll put it in the bathroom for ten minutes in the hopes that the steam will smooth it out. (Spoilers: usually doesn't really work. But then I convince myself that since I'll be sitting going to X place anyway, there's not really a point.)

So, I figured when I started living out of a backpack for a few months, I might look slightly unkept but probably no worse than usual. I wasn't counting on a couple of major things: my mindset and the weather.

First off, I know it's all snowy or whatever where you are (probably) but I just gotta say it's hot here. Really hot. Like, DC in the summer hot, except with 85% less air-conditioned places. The first day, I didn't bother to put on any makeup because I was so tired. The second day, I knew there was no point because I would be sweating within 5 minutes of walking outside anyway.

Secondly, my mindset. A girl's gotta face the facts: I know literally no one here, and no one cares about me. With that attitude, who cares what I look like?

... or smell like? Yes, my friends. I am ashamed (but not really) to admit that I've decided on the following clothes rotations: wear the same outfit every day until it starts to smell. I'm figuring I will average about three days per outfit before I move on to the next. That third day is mighty smelly.

Let's get a photographic representation of what I mean. And yes, my hair will permanently be like that from here on out. It's just easier and cooler.

One of my first outings - I foolishly didn't even bring sunglasses. Or wear sunscreen, which means I now have a sunburn necklace around my shirtline. Very attractive.

I wised up the next time around, bringing my sunglasses (but didn't notice the burn yet). I want to point out that after I took of my backpack and purse (god I'm an attractive tourist) I had a really fantastic collection of sweat pools going on.

Finally, my outfit of choice. Awesome New Orleans hat. Sunglasses. Water. I am ready to conquer.

So now that you know how smelly and filthy I am... who wants to join me?!

First Impressions of Bangkok

After 30 hours of flying and dramatically fainting on the plane, I stumbled through the Bangkok airport at about midnight. I was more than exhausted (although, sidebar, what WOULD "more than exhausted" be? Dead? There's not a whole lot more to go...). After successfully getting stamped into the country and retrieving my beautiful green backpack, I was ready to roll. And be scammed by the taxi driver coming into town, but whatever. Come on, Kristen! CONSTANT VIGILANCE! LACES OUT, DAN!

Despite my fatigue, I could only get three hours of sleep that night... which meant I was set to face my first day in Bangkok with about eight hours of sleep under my belt from the past three nights. This can't go wrong, right?!

I have to admit... my very first venture out into the city was a bit failed. I headed for the main road and was immediately confronted by intense pollution, insane heat and humidity, and cars going every which way. I wandered around for a while (and had my first awesome street cart meal - 30 baht, or about 90 cents), but eventually had to go back to my guesthouse to recoup.

On a whim, I decided to start walking the opposite direction, and stumbled into a wonderful collection of small, leafy, (mainly) pedestrian alleys filled with restaurants, bars, massage parlors, and shops. This is more like it.

After reaching a main road, I almost turned back but decided to keep pushing to a mysterious looking building in the distance (which, turns out, was a fort. Now you know!). Next to that fort? A delightful park next to the river, where you can almost believe cars and pollution don't exist.

Now, this is my Bangkok.