Turtle Feet

“In order to understand something clearly, one must first give it up.”

I said something similar to one of my best friends in Dharamsala the week before I left. While I knew I would miss India like crazy – and I was right – I experienced so much that I knew I needed to leave to let it all soak in.

I picked up Turtle Feet at a small bookstore in Majnu ka Tilla, the Tibetan colony in Delhi. It jumped out at me because I had been thinking a lot about my monk friend, his life, and the community’s expectations of monks. The front flap of Turtle Feet included a line about demystifying monks’ lives. Perfect food for thought.

Back in Montreal, when I finally sat down to read it, my first impression was that the author, Nikolai Grozni, was a stupid injie (Westerner) who took his vows to become a monk without fully understanding what it meant. His friends were the epitome of the Western tourists I hated in Dharamsala, oblivious to the culture and community around them and disrespectful without even being aware of it.

But as I read, I discovered that the author was slowly learning lessons that gave him a deeper understanding of the community – many lessons I myself had to learn. In one chapter, Grozni writes about meeting Tsar, a Western monk who smoked and was always hanging out with girls. At first he seemed interested in Tsar because he was a fellow Western monk who wasn’t afraid to still act however he wanted. But by the end of the chapter, Grozni realized that he was being judged by the community for hanging out with someone who had such a bad reputation.

Reading about the difficulties Grozni encountered on his spiritual quest for the truth made me think more about my own struggle to understand the Buddhist ideas of emptiness and impermanence. The more I have read about Buddhism, the more I have felt like a stupid Westerner who has been taught to hang on to people and experiences, be miserable missing them when they were gone, and to deeply fear death. In comparison, my Tibetan friends seem to be able to cope much better with life’s changes. I keep trying to override the worldview that is deeply engrained in me, but the process is making me realize how difficult it is to change my fundamental beliefs when they are the basis of my actions and reactions on a daily basis. I have also realized that until now, I have not chosen those fundamental beliefs, I have merely soaked them in from my surroundings. I took some comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my struggle; even as a monk who was studying Buddhist texts with learned teachers, Grozni also seemed to be grappling to understand Buddhism through the worldview from his childhood.

Grozni’s descriptions of Dharamsala are so vivid. He describes the bustle of the town, the packs of dogs and beggars, and being surrounded by the Himalayas so precisely that I felt again what it was like to be there. It made me miss the fresh air and the night sky and the million sounds I could hear from my bed in the morning, and even the damn monkeys.

At a time when I was painfully missing India, Turtle Feet helped me realize that Dharamsala will never be the same as it was during the year I was there. Many of my friends have left, our lives have changed, and our experiences have changed us. At the same time, I know that Dharamsala will always be there and will probably always evoke a sense of awe in those who visit it.

The Case of the Missing Toothbrush

For Sun Chee

Roommates. Most of us have lived with them at some point in our lives. They are strangers with whom we must coexist, whose bizarre habits and foibles we must cope with and who must cope with ours in return. I am currently living with three such creatures. My roommates are an unemployed dancer who unintentionally ate hash brownies from our freezer, a busking musician who likes to rant about politics with me, and (my personal favourite) an out-of-work actress who has taken over the apartment since she moved in a month ago.

We’ve had the usual roommate issues: dirty dishes left everywhere, garbage that doesn’t get taken out, bills not paid, doors left unlocked and shoes being worn in the house. But my ultimate favourite so far has been the case of my missing toothbrush.

I came home late one night and it was just gone.

My initial reaction was to mutter “stupid f***ing roommates” under my breath – an increasingly common curse these days. All I kept thinking was WHY would anyone take a used toothbrush?! I told myself that there had to be a rational explanation. I searched the trashcans, thinking it might have fallen in the toilet or been used to clean shoes, and then discarded. Nothing.

Then my imagination started to wander. Maybe the two annoying cats had learned acrobatics while we were out and taught themselves how to open the perilously high medicine cabinet. I laughed at the mental picture of the two cats standing one on top of the other, stealing my toothbrush as revenge for all the times I sprayed them with water to get them out of my room.

When I was a kid and my mum had lost something, she used to say, “Things don’t just sprout legs and walk off.” But if my roommates were telling the truth, they didn’t touch my toothbrush.

Maybe my Indian-made toothbrush was homesick and just couldn’t take it anymore.

The Special Meeting and Journey of a Dream

Tsundue was the bearer of the good news. He sat translating for me at the public discussion of the Special Meeting, wearing a traditional Tibetan shirt and blue chuba over his usual jeans and old sneakers, more happy than I have seen him in months. In between peoples’ questions and the panellists’ answers, Tsundue filled me in on the final recommendations of the meeting that was anxiously watched by Tibetans and their supporters around the world.

I had few expectations from this meeting. An important moment in the history of Tibet, I hoped that it would not add to divisions within the movement or discourage the passionate freedom fighters that surround me.

A lot of media coverage focused on how Tibetans decided to stick to His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s Middle Path approach. However, the resolutions, as I heard them, were a lot more nuanced. The majority of participants at the meeting did in fact agree to continue with the Middle Path but they remain open to the option of independence if there are no concrete results from negotiations with China in the near future. While no one has put a definite time limit on the Middle Path, I find it a definite step in the right direction. But I wonder how naïve it is to believe that China will now be forced to sincerely approach the negotiations, as some have argued. I think that the only way China will ever take the negotiations seriously is if there would be a third-party moderator. Which raises the question: is there any country or third-party that the Chinese leadership trusts enough, who would actually be an unbiased moderator?

There hasn’t been much response from China since the meeting. However, there has been some joking around town that perhaps the Mumbai terrorist attacks this week were China’s response. Interesting considering that the last bombs used in Delhi were proven to be made in China, and that it is well known that China supplies arms to Pakistan.

I was somewhat distracted during the Special Meeting because I was acting as a production coordinator for a friend from Canada who was in town filming a documentary film called Journey of a Dream (check out the teaser). It was perfect timing for Shenpenn and the crew to get some interviews with people who were attending the meeting, some meat for the more political tones of the film. Interviewing Lobsang Sangye and T.C. Tethong outside the meeting, we all felt that we were witnessing history in the making.

On a personal level, it was kind of strange to be an injie girl showing Tibetan friends around town, introducing them to people, organizing trips and interviews. But it was a great experience to see how films are made, and a pleasure to spend my days with such an awesome crew. I can’t wait to see the finished film in 2010!!

Life as a Holiday

I’ve been back in India for two and a half months and can’t help but wonder where all the time has gone. I guess the adage “time flies when you’re having fun” is true.

My life has consisted mostly of hanging out in a coffee shop; drinking, smoking and eating too much; trying to avoid fights at Excite, the only “club” in town; learning to appreciate sappy Indian, Tibetan and Western music; embarking on too many bus trips to and from Delhi (some way too much fun and others extremely lonely); crashing an Indian wedding; learning to write in Tibetan; and reading a pile books.

My intention to write more often completely flew out the window. But it is not dead. With the approach of the Special Meeting called by the Dalai Lama to discuss the future of the Tibet movement and my initial research into Masters programs, I have felt stirrings of inspiration again…

Post-Olympic Slump

There is a lull now that the Olympics are over. The campaign we have been working on for more than 7 years is over, and no one seems to have much time or energy to prepare for what comes next.

Many of my friends and colleagues here are discouraged by how the Olympics played out in India. Unfortunately, internal politics within the NGOs seems to have kept anyone from doing anything really exciting. The typical protests and vigils that were held, were only organized at the very last minute and lacked any vision beyond fulfilling expectations of protests. For many here, the saving grace was SFT’s protests in Beijing – they are the only things people here seem to be proud of.

It seems as though we’ve come to a point where we all need a lot of introspection – on personal, organizational, and movement-wide levels. Introspection is difficult enough on a personal level, where people need to figure out where their abilities and skills are best suited, and if they can drum up the passion to continue at this time. I have a lot of friends who are looking for the next step in their lives, unsure of where it lies – myself included.

What is also needed now is introspection about the entire movement, how the NGOs work together (or not), and even how the NGOs operate internally. This kind of introspection will be most difficult because it could require that NGOs and the entire community be open to changing how things have been done for the last 50 years. SFT is preparing for our own debriefing and analysis, but it will be interesting to see whether we will be able to address our internal issues to make us as effective as we could possibly be.

My own personal slump is surely tainting how I see the movement right now. But I already feel a bit lighter being back in Dharamsala where others’ passion and drive always seem to rub off on me.

Let the Games begin

The Olympics are 4 days away and I feel schizophrenic. My mind is in a million different places.

We're preparing for the beginning of protests here in Canada. I'm trying to coordinate getting people from 3 different cities to be in the same place at the same time in addition to my own training and preparation.

Yesterday, I got to see Jamyang Norbu speaking to the Tibetan community in Toronto. I couldn't understand much, but I could see that the entire community was inspired. Many of them hung out on the patio of a local restaurant for the rest of the day and late into the night. The atmosphere was very different from the formal talk at the Library, but Jamyang-la remained the center of attention, telling stories from Dharamsala, talking about music and singing songs.

When ever I have access to the internet, I check the latest news from India. There are hunger strikers on day 7 of a fast without food and water in Delhi. Tsundue was detained trying to cross the border into Tibet. While I know it means he didn't reach his homeland, I am somewhat relieved that it was Indian police who stopped him, not Chinese. The Tibetan Freedom Torch arrived in Dharamsala today. I received pictures to post on the website of friends and colleagues yelling "Bod Gyalo" and can't help but wish I was there with them, especially when I called them to hear them all celebrating a job well done at McLlo's. Now they are gearing up for protests in Delhi on the 7th, as are we, here in Canada.

Watching "Buddha's Warriors" on BBC tonight, I was reminded of the intensity of the Burmese and Tibetan uprisings in the past year. I can't believe that the Olympics are already here, with all the craziness that it means for us. August is bound to be a month of little sleep, but like my friends and colleagues all over the world, I AM READY.

Dharamsala

Dharamsala evokes in me the same feelings that the chalet I visited as a kid used to. We used to go up to the cabin in the Rocky Mountains in Canada once a month growing up. It was a German-style A-frame cabin, with no electricity or running water. To get there, we had to drive 12 kilometers up an abandoned logging road, and then hike or ski 2.5 kilometers to the chalet. I always felt a sense of anticipation going up there, looking forward to being reunited with an amazing community of friends and a sense of being at home.

I have the same feelings returning to Dharamsala after being away. And my most recent return was even more powerful since I knew my friends from the March would also be returning.

I was always sad leaving the chalet. Even though I knew those people would always be there for me, and that I would eventually see them again, I hated leaving behind that sense of community. Unfortunately, we don’t visit the chalet anymore and my childhood community is scattered. I haven’t talked to some of my “aunts” and “uncles” in years. But they will always be with me, in my thoughts and in my heart, because they were such an important part of my life.

Just like leaving the chalet, when ever I leave Dharamsala, I’m overcome with an intense longing to go back again soon. Leaving this time was harder than ever before. This will be my longest break from Dharamsala since I first visited. But I have also gradually realized the fluid nature of the town – people will constantly be coming and going. A lot had changed over the course of the March. Some of my friends went home to the west and I made some new friends. Before I return, more friends will be leaving. My group of friends will never be the same as it was when I first arrived. But like the community at the chalet, I know these friends will always be with me.

I try to remind myself that impermanence is a part of life. But I still can’t wait to get back to Dharamsala.

Life in Dharamsala

I wake up wrapped in my sleeping bag with cold fresh air on my face, and sun shining on my curtains. After a while, I muster up enough willpower to get out of my warm cocoon, and rush through the cold to get dressed, muttering “achoo” (Tibetan for “it’s cold”) under my breath. Stepping out onto my balcony, the valley of Himachal Pradesh spreads out below me, littered with clusters of houses and villages. To my left and behind me is the first range of the Himalayas. Every morning I have the same thought and smile to myself: “I live in the Himalayas.” I stop on my way to work to indulge in a gluten-free buckwheat pancake and savour my first cup of milk tea, holding it in both hands to warm my fingers.

On days off, I sit in a café for hours on end, reading, doing Sudoku puzzles, talking with friends, staring off into the valley. The pace of life here is beautiful. I am blessed with the chance to slow down and enjoy every moment. I still have to stop and take a breath when the work-a-holic Westerner in me freaks out because the internet is down or there is no electricity. But a cup of tea at a friend’s café normally does the trick and restores the calmness in me that is pervasive here.

I think of how much I’ve always wanted to live in the mountains, not sure that my interests would ever allow it. But here I am, with a job I love and getting to live in the mountains. As my mum and Claire like to say, I am so lucky!

However, the more I settle in here, the more I wonder how it will feel to be in Montreal again.

Being Back in Montreal

Being back “home” in Canada was a strange experience. First of all, my stay was so short that it was hardly possible to feel that I was truly THERE, and not just passing through. I felt like a vagabond passing through a city that I once loved and called home. I felt like a stranger – a bizarre, unsettling, and completely unexpected feeling. A friend who has travelled quite a bit asked my on my first day back if I felt depressed to be back. At the time, I thought: “Why would I be depressed?” But after the jet-lag and initial excitement at being back wore off, that feeling of not belonging sank in. Thankfully I have some amazingly supportive and understanding friends who let me hide out in their apartment and others who let me whine. Those who have travelled commiserated with me on the strange readjustment to life in the big city.

Second, I realized that there were some people I really missed. Seeing them again was like opening a wound that has scabbed over – such a beautiful analogy! I seemed to have suppressed or managed to ignore how much I missed them. But seeing these friends again made me sad knowing that I would be leaving again so soon and would miss them again.

Being in Dharamsala now, Montreal seems so like a million miles away. All my stuff is in storage in Ottawa, so it feels like I have very little connection to the city I once loved… it feels like a lover that slowly slid away. I hope that one day Montreal will instill in me the same excitement and wonder it once did.

Reflections on a Year Away

One year ago, I planned to leave Montreal to try something new. I wanted the chance to pursue some of my other interests that always seemed to be brushed aside because of my all-consuming involvement with the Tibet movement. Now I find myself back home, returning to the same work for Tibet that I was doing before I left. Running away from it all made me realize that I was on the right path – a path that will take me to India next, after my Christmas pit-stop in Montreal.

Being away from home and friends and lovers and all things familiar, gave me a lot of time for introspection and reflection on my view of life. It’s like being given a blank slate, and gives a strange sense of freedom because no one knows you. No one has conceptions of who you are and how you should behave. You can completely rid yourself of accumulated baggage – if you let go of it yourself.

One is able to construct everything: the life one wants, the people one wants to surround oneself with, and perhaps most interestingly, the person one wants to be. It’s a new context in which to give up old habits and hang-ups. It’s a situation that allows for introspection, to be able to pinpoint values, beliefs, desires and dreams, and to learn to live by them. The distance also affords one the clarity to learn from past lessons, experiences, and relationships.

I have learned that who I love and why I love them is a lot more important than who loves me. And I have learned that my love for people doesn’t diminish over distance or time.

Perhaps most importantly, I am more comfortable with the uncertainty in life because I have lived it and let it take me to places I never could have imagined.

Having a Cold in a Hot Climate

Colds in Southeast Asia are a bizarre irony. At home, I was so used to curling up in a ball in my duvet with lots of warm tea and movies to nurse a cold or flu. But here, being sick is just one hot sticky mess. Even cranking up the air-conditioning so you feel cold enough for tea and a blanket doesn’t work. The second you step out of your freezer room, your body goes into shock with the surge of hot humid air. I don’t think the constant change from one extreme temperature to the next does any good… it seemed to only magnify my fever.

Meds… another battle. At home, you just grab some Tylenol Cold and Flu pills (night and daytime, of course) and a box Neo Citron, and you’re set. Here you have to dodge a million offers of antibiotics – Southeast Asian doctors’ favorite answer to any ailment, even if it’s not bacterial. You also need to be an excellent and unabashed mime (if you are somewhere where there isn’t so much English spoken) and you need to know exactly what you need. I felt like I was in medical school. I had to research the actual drugs in my favorites back home and find generic versions here, which were in weird doses and different combinations, obviously producing very different effects. I took a sinus decongestant that was 3 times stronger than anything back home, but didn’t have anything else in it. It also has the side effect of reducing my ability to sleep… obviously making recovery that much slower.

My advice to anyone planning on living overseas: take a bunch of cold medicine and pain killers with you! Nothing here compares.

Unexpected Changes

After a lot of soul searching and inner arguments, I’ve decided to follow my heart… back to the city and the movement I love. I tried to pull away from Tibet in order to find something that could lead to a career, but I know now that I cannot leave Tibet behind. When something is buried so deep inside you, it’s impossible to forget or even ignore it. In the upcoming year, which is so important to the Tibetan and Burmese movements, I have to be with “my first love.”

Only a month ago, I was desperately homesick. After seeing refugees being resettled to third countries and wandering around Buddhist wats and pagodas, I decided that I was going to overcome the longing. And I did. Once I started feeling comfortable again being here in this city, in this job, everything changed again. A friend on a mission visited and pulled me (willingly) back into the world I had left behind. A month ago, I never would have believed that I would be going home so soon!

Yesterday, I went to get my ticket. Because my boss needs to finalize details for the next period, I am making plans for THREE months down the road! This is a record in planning ahead for me!!

However, with the move now official, I'm a little apprehensive about returning to Montreal, sliding back into pretty much the same life I was leading before I left. What will be one whole year abroad has definitely opened my eyes to the world around me and the person I want to be in it. Am I taking a step backwards, or am I returning to the place I am meant to be for now? A friend mentioned a great quote from Nelson Mandela that really resonated with me:

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”

I can’t wait to see friends and family again, and to enjoy living in such an amazing city. But it will definitely be an interesting change.

Homesickness and Mae Sot

It’s a beautiful drive out of the flat Bangkok area, past huge termite mounds and ancient igneous intrusions, and up into the mysterious foggy jungle-covered mountains. I descended on the other side, out of the fog and into the interesting border town. Mae Sot is a miniature version of Thailand, where the cultural diversity is so strongly felt because of the concentration of people, but which is granted an unmistakable Burmese feel by the golden pagodas, the men in longyis and women with thanaka on their faces. The town is buzzing with NGO workers and volunteers, who fill the restaurants and bars with interesting discussions of their work (especially over some wine at Canadian Dave’s) or smile as they ride by on their bicycles. Every time I visit, I meet the most amazing Burmese activists who have risked so much to be there. And who continue to put themselves at risk of being arrested, fined or even deported in order to attend capacity-building and advocacy trainings.

On my second trip to the town in 3 weeks, I discovered that the hotel where I was staying at was also the final stop for refugees being resettled overseas. All day long, there were people sitting at the entrance of the large hall, looking longingly into the distance and the mysterious future that awaits them. I know the resettlement process is long and these people have spent years waiting, but this is the last time they will be within eyesight of their country. They are approaching the moment when they will have to leave all familiarity behind and embark on a journey for which they are undoubtedly not prepared, despite the efforts of organizations like the IOM, UNHCR and IRC – for who is ever ready for such an uprooting? In comparison to the whirlwind of emotions they must be feeling, the homesickness that has overwhelmed me in the last couple days now makes me feel selfish and weak. I come from such a sheltered life and a country of remarkable freedom – free from soldiers, bullets, landmines, hunger, systemic rape, torture, forced labour and displacement. I left my home voluntarily and can go back whenever I want. As I watch these people, my ability to return to my comfortable life surrounded by the people and the country I love begins to seem like an excessive luxury that these people don’t have. They are leaving the life and everyone they know behind, and it will likely be years before they can come back. I can’t begin to imagine what homesickness must feel like when you know you can’t go home.

Starting from scratch again

I’ve been in Bangkok for a little over one week now and have experienced more emotions than I have the sights of the city. This isn’t the first time that I picked up and left my entire life behind, but it is definitely the most drastic and demanding. Every other time I’ve done this, there was always someone I knew in the new place, someone to help me acclimatize and settle in. This time there is no one. I am all alone. The processes lying in front of me now, of creating a new life here and building a social circle, seem daunting at times.

I feel lost sometimes. I have been physically lost, wondering around in circles, trying to find the place where I am staying. I can’t believe how close I can be to something without being able to find it. I am also socially lost; I am a social infant in the world spinning around me. The culture is new to me, the place is new to me, and the language is new to me. Not understanding things is intensely humbling.

I have also experienced intense satisfaction. I have the kind of job that I’ve been dreaming of for years! It may not be glamorous or well paid, but it is emotionally and spiritually rewarding. I am involved in helping people express themselves politically in order to improve their communities and country. This is exactly what I want to be doing.

I have been struck by a calmness here, one that I didn’t expect to find anywhere in Asia, outside of temples. Even walking down a busy road in front of the Grand Palace or shopping at a huge boutique mall, everything still seems to be in serene order. At 5pm, crowds of people wearing yellow shirts are lined up on the major boulevard. All of a sudden the traffic clears, a few policemen walk out into the street. Off in the distance, I see the flashing lights of a motorcade approaching. The police stand in salute and the people mutter small prayers as the King drives by. They laugh at me, the lone white girl, lost in a crowd of Thais. And then they all disperse. I soak it up in wonder.

I know there are more emotions than this to come. There always are. But I have gotten over the first hump and am left encouraged and inspired to keep going in this new life.

Miscellaneous Thoughts and Observations

A couple of weeks ago, I finally got a motorbike! While a bit scared at first, I have found that driving here in Bali is much like driving on the road that is life, and I have learned a couple of very important lessons. In life and in driving, you must pay close attention to everything going on around you and be aware of changes – large and small. And you must not hesitate, just go or you may miss a perfect opportunity!

My mum and I took our pembantu (housekeeper), Iluh, to dinner one night on the tourist strip in Legian. We made “sweet memories” (i.e. we took way too many goofy posing photographs, with the Asian-style peace signs!) and got to learn about Iluh’s life outside of our home. After getting pregnant a couple of years ago, she was forced to marry the father of the child, Made. That child was eventually miscarried. Despite Iluh’s emotional suffering and her in-laws’ disdain at her inability to carry a child to term, she stayed with Made and eventually became pregnant again. Since their healthy daughter’s birth, Made has not been able to hold down a job, while Iluh slaves away at two. Iluh and his family argue constantly about how their daughter, Ninda, should be fed and clothed and educated, all the while Iluh is forced to give up all her hard-earned money to them. Iluh eventually left Made and went back to live with her mum, which has caused its own problems. According to Balinese custom, when a woman marries, she is supposed to live in the community of her husband’s family. Iluh’s mother’s banjar (community association) can therefore collect as much money as they see fit because she is not living where she should be. Iluh continues to fight with Made and his family, but divorce is not really an option as it is too expensive and can cause even more problems with both banjars of the people involved. Iluh hardly gets to see her daughter, as Balinese custom also holds that children are the property of the father and his family. Here I have been, complaining about what to do with my life, that I have too many options and don’t know what to do. I bet Iluh would do anything to be in my shoes; I have the entire world in front of me, with my “beautiful white skin” and my only limitations being my ability to dream. And unfortunately, Iluh is not the only person trapped in her life. I keep meeting Balinese people who have their own unhappy stories, having to go through life not being able to escape the lives set for them. I wonder if it is their contact with the West that has made so many Balinese realize that they are not happy with their lives, that there are people out there in the States or Canada or even nearby Australia, who actually get to chose their own destinies. Is this the new colonization? Spreading ideals of individuality and freedom that do not fit with traditional cultures? I feel almost guilty of my freedom, which allows me to sit in such a beautiful house, reading, swimming, not having to work, and spending my days instead daydreaming and researching possibilities for my future. How did I deserve this while Iluh doesn’t?

The cultural homogeneity here is striking. There are really only religious differences; there are Hindu, Muslim, Christian, and Buddhist Balinese. But physically, everyone looks the same. A fact that makes for a lot of attention as a white person – be it good or bad! Everywhere I go, I hear annoying offers of transportation, tours, and demands to look in people’s shop (Sun Chee will agree with this!). But no matter how tanned I get, my whiteness also makes it quite easy to make friends. I’ve quickly made friends with the DVD salesman on the beach, the servers at a couple of restaurants, and musicians at bars. There are so few white people that I guess those of us that stick around for a while are definitely recognizable – especially when we go to the same restaurants and shops all the time!! It’s such a stark contrast to Canada where everyone is different and yet still Canadian, and you don’t get a lot of attention just based on the color of your skin. It has definitely taken me a while to get used to the attention, but blocking out the bellowing hawkers is still a work in progress!

Several clubs and bars in Kuta (the really touristy part of Bali) charge Balinese a cover charge, and quite a high fee too if you take into consideration their average monthly income! And of course, white people get in free. My Balinese friends were rightfully quite pissed off about this, as was I. What are these bars trying to do? Piss off Balinese even more about the segregation between tourists and themselves? There is already an underlying (but very noticeable) tension about Balinese hanging out with tourists, and the cultural and economic differences between them. Keeping locals out of bars in their own country is only going to make people more angry about these differences, which, dare I say, are some of the same feelings that probably led to the two Bali bombings in the first place! I’m sure that the bombings are the reason for the cover charge for Balinese, but that’s blatantly discriminatory. And for the tourists, why would they want to hang out in a club that virtually blocks locals from entering (since most are not going to pay 1/10 of their salary just to get in!)? The tourists could be in a bar back home or anywhere else in the world and have the same experience! So I’ve started boycotting the clubs that demand a cover charge from Balinese and have opted instead to hang out at my Balinese friends’ local drinking hole… which is pretty literally that! Two pool tables, some chairs and a raised platform to sit on, and really cheap and good arak! A great night out there, with food and drinks and cigarettes (the most expensive of the three!), only comes to about 6 bucks! And it’s way more fun! :)

No longer a beach bum

I finally got a job! I’m going to be teaching online English conversation courses and subbing at an internationally-recognized school!! It sounds like a lot of fun. So I’ll finally be able to put my TESOL Certificate to use! It's funny though how quickly I've gotten used to not working. The idea of having a job again taking up so much of my time is a bit depressing. But at least I'm in a beautiful place to enjoy my time off!

Losar Tashi Delek!!!

HAPPY TIBETAN NEW YEAR!!!

I hope everyone has a prosperous and happy year of the fire pig, full of adventure and excitement! :)

Fittingly, I found a Tibetan Buddhist temple tucked away in the middle of rice paddies here in Bali! Driving past, I was surprisingly confronted and comforted by the 8 auspicious symbols and “Om Mani Padme Hum” written in Tibetan script on the front of the building. When I finally got the chance to explore the temple further, I found a strange combination of Tibetan, Chinese and Indonesian scripts and symbols. There were Chinese lanterns for the new year and out front of the temple was a small traditional Balinese Hindu temple (found in nearly every house and in front of important sites and buildings). On one of the alters inside, there was a picture of a Tibetan man standing with a monk, and a rack of books of Buddhist principles written by a Tibetan man (but only available in its Indonesian translation). The only person I could find at the temple spoke only Indonesian. My mum and I managed to understand that ceremonies and meditation sessions are held Sunday mornings, but the girl didn’t understand my question as to whether there was a Tibetan lama at the temple. I may just have to venture back with someone who speaks more Indonesian!

Surfer Girl!

I finally did it! I went surfing for my first time and it was SSOOOOOO much fun! We rented longboards (much easier for beginners) on Kuta beach and were practicing in the breaking waves (also easier for beginners!). I was so amazed at how fast it feels like you are moving and how huge and looming some of the waves are. I rode a lot of the waves because it was less scary to ride the big ones than to watch them approach and then have to go through them! In an hour, I managed to get up on my feet, but I was still hanging on to the sides of the board. Supposedly not bad for my first try – better than my mum at least!! I can see it being totally addictive, despite the liters of sea water that I snorted up my nose and I can’t wait to go again!

Back in Bali

We stopped in Kuala Lumpur on our way home – yes, I instinctively referred to Bali as home! – and it was strangely nice being in a developed city. Comforting, even. I think I kind of miss the luxuries and the familiarity of Western cities.

It is even stranger being back in Bali. It feels like being home, but it also feels safe and emotionally neutral in comparison to Cambodia – no recent and tangible memories of death. Well, at least nothing comparable to the widespread genocide under the Khmer Rouge. Despite how safe and comfortable Bali feels, Cambodia lingers on my mind. I applied for a human rights education position with Live and Learn, an organization works to promote access to land and forests for the Cambodian people. I felt grossly unqualified, but I know that my heart is in it and that I could learn fast enough to fill the position.

I didn’t think it would be Cambodia that would shake the human rights activist in me awake again. But it has. In my last months in Montreal, running away from my responsibilities with Students for a Free Tibet, I thought I had lost the passion and the drive to do human rights work. My experiences in Cambodia proved to me that my passion is still there. Maybe all it took was a break and a change of scenery to make me feel it again.

It's all about connections

We haven't been doing much lately... eating, drinking, reading, swimming, being sick :(

But I have been trying to figure out what exactly it is that I am going to be doing with myself for the next... who knows how long. Claire has talked to the director of the Bali International School and has told her that I am interested in working as a substitute teacher. She has also offered to send me some of her French students that I could tutor - an interesting idea because then I could follow along with Claire's curriculum and learn how to put together a plan for an entire session rather than individual lessons like I did with my TESOL course in Montreal.

On the anthropology front, I met a woman whose husband is working on his masters degree in anthropology who might be willing to let me tag along on some of his interview excursions. He is researching how Balinese culture has been influenced by modern technology and global culture, an issue that already came to my mind as I watch the local people ride motorbikes to temple ceremonies in traditional dress while talking on their cell phones.

I've decided to relax for now... enjoy the holiday life and not feel bad for doing so little. And then after Christmas and a couple of weeks in Cambodia (and possibly Thailand), I'll follow up on these leads and get back to my usual busy self! ;)