The Traveling Social Worker

I'm sure that travelers can recognize the sentiment, that maybe after some time, it feels as though you put your life on hold at home. It's not a bad feeling, or a good feeling, simply a parallel feeling that there are two lives being lived, and one can easily be paused while the other continues. You have a travel life and a home life. The world carries on. Your family and friends' lives proceed. Maybe you wonder if you being there ever made a difference. Certainly it did, however the thought can creep up on you. Maybe there is nothing you miss, and this disconnect concerns you, or, better yet, thrills you. Maybe you become jaded from a life away from home, constantly having to reaquaint yourself with surroundings - always introducing yourself, having the same conversation over and over. Maybe all of this causes you to miss home, or maybe the fact that you don't miss home at all makes it feel as though it isn't your home anymore. Time no longer exists, only the day to day - money, and basic necessities. You had an education you might not be using, things you did and were passionate about before that don't matter anymore or that you don't have access to. With new knowledge comes new passions, and new passions can make a whole new persona.

When I originally left on this trip more than ten months ago, I justified my abandon by saying that traveling will enhance my career as a social worker. It will give me insight to all kinds of ways of life - cultures, ethnicities, and beliefs that exist around the world. The mere ability to say a couple of words in someone else's language can strongly enhance rapport when empathizing with clients of all diversities. I said to myself, I will volunteer in other countries to help me get by, and that will support the building of my resume during my extended absence.

After receiving my masters degree in social work, I had a few months to put my affairs in order before deciding to leave for a prolonged period of travel. A period that, in time, became more and more drawn-out. So far I am four months beyond my personally advertised return date. By the time I actually do return, my originally planned trip will have more than doubled in length. Spontaneity is a beautiful gift, considering that concrete travel plans are as real as a "worse case scenario." Everyone can imagine how it will go, but no one sees it come to pass the way they envisioned. Definitive travel plans on extended journies never follow through, and only seem to prevent incredible opportunity. I learned this a long time ago, and for the most part, threw limits, expectations, and deadlines out the window.

As freeing as it has been, lately I have felt as though I put my entire career on hold to travel the world. I can't help but recognize that, at times, my experiences are more for personal gain than they are for educational knowledge that will 'enhance my career.' Since most service opportunities on this side of the world require the volunteer to pay for participation, the idea of building my resume abroad became distant and virtually unrealistic. Sixteen months of "unemployed traveler" may not be the best way to sell myself to the next employer. Certainly not with the argument that such a long absence may have caused me to become out of practice.

All of these thoughts about my absence, and abandon, had been rushing in as a full year of travel rapidly approaches me.

The other day, a symbolic gift was sent my way that would later bring me towards feelings of fulfillment and purpose. I received in an email a post-test survey concerning my graduate degree specialization in integrated primary and behavioral healthcare. As I completed the questionnaire I found that most of the examining questions went as follows: On a level of 1 to 5, rate how confident you are in working with clients of different cultural backgrounds (1 being not confident, and 5 being extremely confident). Topics included; communication using nonverbal behaviors, racial identity, language barriers, educational background and interests, gender role and responsibility, role of elders and children, recognizing your own personal values and beliefs and preventing or resolving their intrusion into practice, comfort when entering a culturally different world, similarities and differences between cultural groups, clients refusal of treatment based on beliefs, need for cultural care preservation/maintenance, cultural sensitivity, dealing with racism and prejudice of clients while maintaining a non-bias practice, religious conflicts, values, etc. etc. etc.

About halfway through I began to laugh out loud at my previous concerns over 'enhancing my career.'

Maybe I am no longer in a therapeutic group setting - teaching mentally ill women how to appropriately cope with feelings of anger while living in a homeless shelter. Maybe I am not doing one-on-one private in-home therapy with hospice clients. Maybe I am no longer doing in-home structural family therapy with troubled youth and their parents in the struggling heart of Brooklyn. What I am doing is communicating on a daily basis with people from around the world, learning about religious and cultural practices, coping with my own discomfort in rural and suburban underdeveloped settings to the point where there is no discomfort, understanding the basis of my values and how they differ from the people around me, learning about wars and racism between ethnicities I didn't even know existed, using different languages, seeing firsthand the daily practices of different cultures, understanding traditions and ways of life, experiencing fundamentally complex and corrupt governmental effects on citizens, living in other peoples' homes, practicing different religions, teaching about love through my own openness, etc. etc. etc.

After taking the post-test, I realized, I haven't left a life on pause somewhere. There is no "home" to go back to or life I left behind. There is no extended "absence." I have never been more present. I am home, everywhere I go. I feel it is a gift to be able to say that even after traveling to 43 different countries in my life, and counting. I can find comfort in anything or anyone, in myself, and at any location. Life before travel, is simply that. It's not continuing on its own - there is still a life being lived. This concept of living a paradoxical double life doesn't exist. People at home will go about their lives, as travelers go about theirs. We will grow in our way, and they will grow in theirs. At the end of the day, I have captured more in a moment than I could possibly have dreamed of in a lifetime. No matter which way we spin it, it is for personal gain - the kind of gain that will make us better practitioners, friends, lovers, and empathizers. The kind of personal gain that benefits everyone wey meet. Every backpacker must be a social worker to an extent. Every traveler must have this knowledge that enhances any career or relationship they have. It requires an openness, a tolerance, a patience, a self-awareness, and an overall understanding of one's personal role in humanity.

I used to think that when I decide to call it quits with long-term travel, or put it on hold until further notice, that is when I will settle down and begin my professional career.

The truth is, I am settled, and I am practicing social work every day. The important thing for all travelers to remember, is what this survey reminded me. Although we may not be working or volunteering, or even interacting with locals every day - we are spreading wealth and knowledge around the world. In return for satisfying the basic human need to participate in humanity, travelers gain an immeasurable growth and goodness that can only effect positive change within and without themselves now and forever. I dare others to be their own genies, grant their own wishes. As travelers do when they choose to travel, I encourage you to also follow your dreams. It only makes us better at being.

A Hitchhikers Guide to Malaysia

Diving right into Malaysia from Thailand, and intending to spend a short amount of time, meant being prepared for a few things. I heard from many travelers in passing, that costs in Malaysia were higher than in Thailand, and Thailand was one of the most expensive Southeast Asian countries I had been in. Granted, I was there the longest - with 6 weeks under my belt, and some luxurious indulgences like elephant sanctuaries, private rooms, and motor scooter rentals - nevertheless, Malaysia was coming, and I had to prepare.
Before arriving in Malaysia, I imagined villages, much like rural Thailand, and I imagined major cities like Bangkok, Ho Chi Minh, or Beijing. I needed to book flights from Singapore to Borneo and around Borneo, so once that booking was finished my time in west Malaysia was limited. I held off on the flight booking for as long as my budget could stand it. If one thing is for certain in life and travel, it is that plans are more like rough guidelines, often more useful as toilet paper than anything else. Holding off on purchasing my flight gave me the freedom to flush my previous plans, 10 days in west-Malaysia (Penninsular) down the drain.

The tentative plan was only there for budget reasons. More time more money. Mo money mo problems.
I took my budget struggle to the streets. I searched on CouchSurfing.org, messaging half a dozen people on Penang Island, so that I would have a place to start after driving south from Thailand to Malaysia. Within a week I received a response from a lovely Iranian guy, Milad, getting his doctoral degree at the university on the island. Four nights on Penang Island with good Middle Eastern company, boom, check.

Penang Island had NO island feel to it. I arrived coming down off of a high from camping and having beaches all to myself in Ko PhiPhi, Ko Lanta, and Ko Tao, Thailand - I was not really in the mood to explore a city on public transportation. Luckily my gracious host offered me everything, from transportation to almost anywhere, to a big bed with air con and wifi. This was the time I would take to research the future of my trip. For all intensive purposes, from here on out I am going in blind - the best way to go if you want all of your senses taken to the next level.

Judging by the things that interested me in Penang, leaving West Malaysia within 10 days was looking like it would be no problem. Everything was going as planned.

After a few restful days I found another CouchSurfing opportunity in Kuala Lumpur. Elma was the next sweet soul to take me in. While I was on the bus to arrive at Elma's house, I received an email from her explaining that she is not actually in Kuala Lumpur. I should arrive in KL, get a train to an outer suburb called Rawang, then find a local bus, or hitchhike if I arrive after 7:30pm, to a place called Bandar Tasik Puteri. My lazy side contemplated passing-up the opportunity. I would have to hitchhike since the journey wouldn't bring me into Rawang until 9pm. Honestly, I couldn't even say the town properly until I started asking around about how to get there. It was also only the third or fourth time I've hitchhiked in the last ten months of travel, and I was nervous. Of course I took the journey out to Rawang, asked around, hitchhiked. No one picked me up. It started to rain. I took a taxi. First Malaysian hitchhiking experience was an epic fail.

Elma was the sweetest woman, and reminded me a lot of my mother. She was righteous, funny, and young in spirit. We were instant-friends. She always had something to feed me, and left me with a lovely Russian guy to have the entire house to ourselves while she went on vacation. Unfortunately she was a busy woman, so I had to start hitchhiking to do pretty much anything in the area. It was the perfect push to get me out of my bus-taking, taxi-riding shell and breakout into the hitchhiking world.

On her way out of town Elma brought me to a nice little corner next to the highway where I could easily get a ride for my first day of adventures via hitchhiking. Within five minutes a Hokkien Chinese-Malay guy picked me up and brought me to the national park.  At the park I climbed waterfalls, got my feet wet, and then took my time returning to the highway to thumb another ride. Within ten minutes an Indian-Malay truck driver pulled over and picked me up. Furthermore he gave me his phone number and said that if I need any rides along that highway I could call him because it is his working route. He seemed too eager to be my chauffeur and it gave me a funny feeling. Eventually he wanted to detour off of the highway to pick something up, I didn't understand what he was saying and was not comfortable detouring from the route with a guide who gave me a 'funny feeling.' I got out on the side of the road and found another ride within the snap of a finger. This time a nice Hakka Chinese guy brought me all the way to Batu Caves outside of Kuala Lumpur, I did my tour, and then found another ride partway back. Somehow, since the driver was not going all the way to my destination, I ended up under a highway bridge with a bunch of motorcyclists during a massive rain storm. They all were fairly entertained watching me try to hail down a car for 30 minutes. The rain storm seemed to make people less generous. Eventually we waved down a local bus and it took me back to Rawang for less than a dollar.

That was my first day of commuting completely via hitchhiking.

Now 100% confident in the generosity and safety of the hitchhikers way, when it came time to leave Elma's house, my plan was to hitchhike all the way two hours north, to a town called Ipoh, where I would re-join with my friend Luca who I traveled with in south Thailand. Foolishly I stood, facing the wrong direction, on a road that was not the main highway. I got a lot of waves and thumbs up. I'm sure I made friends with passerby's just by standing there smiling, and waving at everyone.
After some time of waving to people who smiled, gave me thumbs up, and still did not pull over to help a sister out - I finally met my angel of the day. The man who picked me up was named Nick - nickname Mun. Straightaway Nick told me that he was not going all the way to my destination, he was en route to his parents house an hour north where he is caretaker for his mother and father. He told me that he would go most of the way and then leave me at a local bus station. It took so long to get a ride on the road initially, that it was already 3pm when he stopped for me, and I was accepting of any generous offer. It started raining once I got into the car. After chatting along the way, I felt really good about meeting Nick. He offered to stop to get me lunch, and gave me all kinds of advice about hitchhiking and traveling in Malaysia. Since my final destination after Ipoh would be the tea plantations in the mountains of Cameron Highlands, Nick told me that there were also plenty of mountain adventures in the area we were in. He told me that, if I wanted, he could take me around the mountains, and then I could sleep at his parents house for the night. Considering I had such good feelings about this generous guy, I said yes. My mind was completely at ease when I arrived at his parents house and met his hardcore Chinese mom who invited me to eat, do laundry, and stay in a private air-con room. Heaven has a name, its a tiny Hokkien Chinese village called Rasa, Malaysia.
That night Nick took me out for dinner, insisting on paying for everything, and he even brought fireworks for us to set off in the street. In this small town, everyone was fairly informed about everyone, so much so that when Nick walked in anywhere, it was as if the mayor had arrived. He told me that showing up with a young white foreigner would certainly hit the rumor circuit by morning. I told him to fuel the fire. We sat next to each other, talked all night, snuck out the back of the restaurant for a cigarette instead of smoking where we were sitting, and I imagine rumors got really wild when the same people saw us go out to breakfast the next morning. Staying with Nick was a lot like staying with my dad's best friend. After breakfast he drove me one hour out of his way to my destination and left me at a local bus stop to get me where I'm going. After a night of accommodation, treating me to anything I wanted, fireworks, and laughter, I was sad to say goodbye to him. Uncle Mun!

By now it has been one week in Malaysia, and it's safe to say that I was absolutely in love with the country. Ten days wouldn't cut it, so lets throw in the tea plantations, highlands, jungle, and rainforest for good measure. These are all places I didn't know existed before stumbling across an online magazine article during my downtime in Penang. The article advertised the Top 20 Must-See things in Malaysia, now my aim was to do as much of them as I could manage.

I arrived in Cameron Highlands, not having paid for a single night, or tourist bus for the previous week in Malaysia. I was completely in love with what Malaysia had to offer in spirit. When I met up with my friend Luca at Cameron Highlands, I found him in opposite spirits. He wasn't enjoying the experiences he had in Malaysia up to that point. I told him one day with me and he will love it.

On that one day we took a two hour trek into the jungle. The climb was hand and feet through mud, pulling ourselves up over the vines that nature presented as steps to the top. Once we arrived, we had a little picnic. On the sunmit there was a road to return down the mountain, and a guy was offering some Netherlander girls a ride which they declined. So I chimed in 'We'll take a ride!' The guy, Azmi, and one of his wives, drove us down the mountain to a place called the Mossy forest. He pulled over, told us to go tour the area and that he would wait for us. Really? That's extremely kind, don't mind if I do. At this point, I am grateful for the generosity, but not surprised at all. Luca was still taking it all in. "Wow, he's so nice." Yeah bro, this is Malaysia.

On our walk we bumped into a German guy named Cornelius. It appeared as though Luca and Cornelius had met before, so we walked out of the forest together, and Azmi told Cornelius to get into the car also. There we were, feeling blessed by the generosity of this traditional Muslim-Malay couple, two Germans and an American covered in mud, sitting snug in the backseat. I knew what was in store for this ride. It was fun for me to sit back and watch Luca and Cornelius in shock and awe at the Malay generosity they were receiving. I grew to expect it, love it, make friends with it, so when the rest of the day became the Azmi-guided tour, I was extremely grateful and unabashed. Azmi not only took us on a tour of the tea plantation, but he also took us to the enormous and beautiful Lavender gardens where he paid for our entrance. The Germans and I all chipped in to buy his wife a bouquet of fresh flowers as a "thank you." Following the gardens, he brought us to the Kings' vacation home where it turns out he is the landscape artist. We walked around this VIP spot admiring his work, and the gorgeous view. All of the states of Malaysia have a king, and the king is re-elected every 5 years. Azmi made sure we knew that no tourists go there. No one goes there but the politicians and kings. Before parting ways, he invited the three of us to dinner, where he insisted on paying for everything, and then returned us to our hostel for the night. We walked away, all jaw-dropped at the kindness we were shown. I think by the end of the day it was safe to say that one day with me changed Luca's opinion of Malaysia. Really, one day of hitchhiking and meeting Azmi.

From Cameron Highlands, Luca joined me for a detour to Teman Negara to trek through the world's oldest rainforest and walk along the world's longest rope bridge. Teman Negara included some more hitchhiking and friend-making, before I said my sad goodbye to Luca and headed to Kuala Lumpur. I reveled at the idea of meeting people who were shocked at the idea of hitchhiking, and i would try to convince them to do it. It felt as though I would be introducing them into a whole new world of experiences.

When I arrived in Kuala Lumpur I emailed Azmi and Nick to thank them for the amazing memories that they made with me. Azmi responded telling me how disappointed he was the he couldn't be in Kuala Lumpur to show me around. He really was disappointed, because as an alternative he gave his daughter, Mya, my phone number, and within minutes she was calling me to make plans for the tour of KL she would take me on. Just as I received the response from Azmi with the 'programme,' I bumped into Cornelius. He joined me on our adventure the next day with Mya, her mother and her beautiful baby boy. We went to a fantastic pink mosque, a children's theme park called I-City, delicious Arabic food in between, and also the evening light show at the famous Petronas (Twin) Towers in KL. Mya was so generous, patient, and sweet, that she wanted to take us the next day on a day trip to Malacca town, which is a beach city two hours west of KL. Curse the notion of making plans! I had already booked a flight from Singapore to Borneo, so I had to move on and pass up another fantastic day with this incredible family.


Concerning safety, traveling alone as a woman, and not knowing enough about my surroundings, I was always hesitant to do any kind of hitchhiking while on my own. I'm not sure if I would continue this in every country I go to, however, Malaysia has certainly opened my heart and my eyes to the generosity, opportunity, and love that the people here have to offer. I am so grateful for hitchhiking, and I wanted to share that with everyone.

Here are 8 reasons hitchhiking and CouchSurfing in Malaysia was one of the highlights of my trip

1. Hitchhike. Do it. Malay people are generous, friendly, and do not expect anything in return except to maybe be your facebook friend, get your phone number, or take a selfie with you and their children.

2. Hitchhiking and CouchSurfing awards positive experiences that you can't plan, pay for, or expect.

3. It's free.

4. You are officially off the beaten path. Locals know stuff that you can't learn without them. They take you places, teach you things. Just by talking to them and asking them questions, you will learn so much about the area, culture, language, and religion. They picked you up or took you in because they expected to talk with you after all. It builds your confidence. Knowing you is just as valuable to locals as knowing them might be for you. That is why they want to meet you to begin with. Your host is intrigued by your skin, your tradition, they all want to know where you come from, what religion you are. They get the experience of meeting a foreigner, and you get the experience of meeting a local, along with the added bonus of a free ride. Everyone leaves happy.

5. It's the scenic route. You're not stuck on a bus, train, or subway - you're not in a noisy hostel having to pay for anything and everything straight down to the drinking water. You have your hands out the window, or the air-conditioning in your face, you have a couch or a bed in a private place. Take it all in and fill yourself with gratitude.

6. You are completely on someone else's plan, and you must go with the flow. This can be difficult for some people, and for others it's not a downfall at all. However, in their car or their house, and on their time, you are their guest. Flexibility is a fantastic learning tool.

7. Sometimes you are in extremely remote areas, and this can be inconvenient. Who cares though, its a trade-off for a great experience and a new friend outside of the partying, traveling, backpacker crowd! Often times, remote places are more memorable than the alternative. For me, it depends on where I am and what I want to do as to whether or not I prefer to CouchSurf or stay at a hostel. Sometimes, being remote is fine because I want to relax and be with the people. Other times, I have an active schedule in mind, and it can take a lot longer commute time to try to hitchhike everywhere I want to go, and a lot more money and effort otherwise.

8. There are good people in the world. If there is anyway to renew your faith in humanity, the Malay locals will certainly light your fire.


More to come while in Borneo! Cheers

Norway in a Nutshell

Talk about beauty in the world.

On my 9 day journey throughout Norway I witnessed some of the most breathtaking scenery. Fjords, mountains surrounded by lakes and rivers, covered with sporadic snow patches from the previous winter, and houses all along them - scattered or in rows zigzagging all along the cliffs and hills. The mountains were like Croatia's rock cliffs, with less cliffs and more fully formed mountains. Or like Greece's mountains, but covered in beautiful forestry with no dessert-like surroundings. Or like the Atlas Mountains in Morocco, but again, the forestry winter-mountainous look rather than the desert-mountainous look. Even, at a distance, appearing in the backdrop as the Appalachian Trail through New Hampshire and Maine, or the White Mountains. Real breathtaking, untouched, natural beauty.

My first stop after leaving the paradise of Greece was Oslo, Norway. Furthermore, my first stop in Oslo, Norway was to the Huk (pronounced "hewk") nude beach on the Bygdøy ("big day") peninsula of the city. My first day was spent in the 60-70 degree weather, in the 50-60 degree water. It felt like swimming in the middle of Boston harbor on the last day of the summer swimming season. And it was. The days to follow would be brisk. A layer or two of jackets would only reduce the breeze to a cool shutter.

Despite my having rested thoroughly for the last 10 days in Greece (a time and place my mind is still fixated on), each day in Norway has been quite physical and quite tiring in its own way. In order to pace myself and self-care the way that my body is screaming I should, "Sleep you idiot! Do less! Do less, please!" - I tried my restless best to do less and less. So this week I did one, maybe two activities a day.

 When I arrived at Huk on the shore of the North Sea, i took one look around to see the few men and women there, in their 50s or 60s most likely, and stark naked. I thought, with all of these sagging butts around me, what do I have to lose? Without a second more, I dropped my things, dropped my trousers, and went straight to where I belonged - the sea. It wasn't so bad, the coldness of it I mean. I immediately had goosebumps all over my naked brown and white body. Mind you, I was the only person on the beach with extreme tan lines. I had never thought of appearing - so obviously - as a foreigner, simply because below my waist is currently the whitest full-moon any Norwegian has ever seen, particularly in contrast with my Grecian brown legs. 

When i got out of the water, it wasn't so terribly cold that i would have to dress right away. So I sat on the beach drawing the landscape in my sketchbook. I am no artist, but creativity is a coping mechanism - music, dance, art, writing, cooking - i crave it because it makes me feel at home. Its good to know how to be comfortable and make every place feel like home. Even better to do it. So i began to draw a childish interpretation of far off mountains - me in my bareness pretending to be Rembrandt or Da Vinci. Suddenly, the ugliest seagull I had ever seen made a wretched crow, and shit all over my drawing and on me and my things.

I couldn't tell if it was vomit or poo.

I trudged slowly and gently to the sea, as I noticed locals did - probably in order to not make too much jelly shake, if you know what I mean. I laughed while I washed off in the water among the seaweeds. Either I am really lucky - and this is a sign, as everyone says about bird shit landing on you - or, and this is most likely, Norwegian birds are harsh art critics and my Da Vinci attempt was just as shit as the actual shit that landed on it. Either way, I laughed at circumstance. Luckily I wasn't wearing clothes, or it would have been a bird shitty day all over the back of my shirt.

All in all, my broad daylight public nudity debut was quite the event. No regrets. No embarrassment. It may have been the most carefree I would ever feel while naked in public. Not that this is a regular occurrence. I wish it was. I may have found my calling as a nudist.

On the bus ride back from Huk I met a retired Norwegian professor. He interjected himself into my studies as I was reading and practicing Norwegian phrases silently under my breath. He sat next to me and heard me studying, and laughed at my pronunciation. He was quite helpful and taught me key phrases while we rode along.

On day one, I hadn't learned yet that speaking Norwegian was not necessary in Norway. Everyone not only spoke English, but spoke it well and with a clear accent - even though most people said "I speak a little bit." I learned that those responses were because they don't want to speak English. I earned respect from people simply by acknowledging that. I said, I have no choice but to speak English, please help me, I don't mean to disrespect the Norwegian language or culture - I said this indirectly by saying in Norwegian, rather than outright in English, "I don't speak Norwegian, do you speak English?" I feel it does make a difference, even if only a slight difference. It doesn't work because its some brilliant idea of mine either, it works because it evokes different responses in people, the warmth and welcomes, rather than the rush to get away. I have tried it both ways, and using the local language, - even a little bit - always gets the better response.

The following days I walked about a bit - along a river leading to the city center with waterfalls and thick brush, zigzagging through boroughs and universities on paths and back roads covered with runners, and bicyclists. Along Sogsvann, a lake at the  last stop of one of the city train lines, I lost myself on a hiking path in the woods, sat by a freshwater stream for a picnic and fell asleep on a dock in the middle of the vann (lake). It took me a while to find a dock that was not loud with playing children or the trudging of hundreds of feet on a dirt path. It was Sunday, and because nothing other than expensive restaurants is open on Sunday, everyone was out walking, biking, or running, at this lovely lake.

Everything I have done here has been slowly paced, and truly peaceful. I think I have felt drained because Norway puts a lot of stress on the wallet. Although the exchange is 7 Norwegian Kroner for every 1USD, everything is priced in the 100s. What would normally cost $20, costs 300-400 Kroner - the equivalent to $50-65. When I am paying 59 Kroner ($10) for a street vendor hot dog, that's when you know - this country ain't cheap. 

The universe must know and feel my concerns, because the people I have come across here have been hospitable and free-giving. In Greece, I was cared for by family or friends of family and they were always giving. Here in Norway, it has been tens of people, complete strangers who sometimes don't even know my name, giving me free food, more free food, free advice, free transport, free this, cheap that. It has been a real gift and - like every time so much fortune and hospitality comes my way - I find myself wondering what did I do to deserve this? But then, reasons don't matter do they? I just try to be grateful... maybe the bird shit really worked.

On one occasion, I made friends at a bar. I don't normally go out at night when I am traveling alone, nevertheless to a bar, but I wanted to make a point to try Norwegian beer and I did so when the sun was still out. After all, it was the last night of the weekend. During weekdays Norwegian law does not allow the selling of alcohol after 3pm. I went to an Irish pub, of course, and I ended up meeting some people, of course. After chatting a thrilling conversation with a jolly couple who laughed and smiled about everything (how fantastic! I found myself laughing and not knowing what I was laughing at) they left and I continued the conversation with the man next to me who had joined in. I found myself complaining to the man at the bar about the cost of food. I try hard not to complain when I am traveling, but this one thing irked me. I found myself thinking how rude! The nerve of the Norwegian government to really think they can charge this much for bare necessities is really just a cruel joke. Petroleum independent UNESCO World Heritage Site Assholes. The government, of course, not the people. One thing I've learned is that most people don't like their government. Maybe they like the school system, or they like the way taxes are, or they like a few things here and there - but disagreeing with some aspects of the way the government does things is not considered a direct insult to the culture. So I freely say, it irks me that the Norwegian government has the nerve to charge so much money for things.

One of the things I was so excited to come to Norway for, was to eat lots of seafood. Low and behold this self-sufficient seafood exporting country has some of the most expensive local fish I have ever seen. Too bad - I've been making cheese sandwiches for days. After complaining about cost of food to the man at the bar, he told me poignantly, "well, I'm actually quite wealthy working in the Petroleum business here, and there's this posh restaurant around the corner I would like to take you to, no pressure though." I thought for a moment. I was direct in return to his poignancy, telling him that I don't want to accept his offer and imply anything further. He was understanding, generous, and kind. "No pressure." He kept saying. Anyway, the restaurant was right next door on a busy street and not less than 4 hrs earlier someone I had met gave me the wise advice to never turn down an invitation for food. 

When we sat down to order, I took one look at the menu and my jaw dropped. He asked me what I wanted, and feeling slightly uncomfortable at choosing between such expensive things (and truthfully wanting all of it), I told him to choose for me. Well, he didn't really. Instead he said, "we'll have two of the 5 course meal you have here." Jaw dropped again. But cheerfully, of course. Even though he and the waitress spoke Norwegian, he insisted on speaking only English while I was around, and I felt grateful for his consideration.

Thanks to Arne, that was his name, I delighted my way through long and meaningful conversation - complete with impressions of Sean Connery, Clint Eastwood and even some singing, while we both childishly played at being "posh" for the night. And oh the seafood! Some of the most tantalizing seafood I have eaten. Octopus! Eal! Cod! Delicious stuff that was completely new to me just because of the unique Norwegian methods of preparation and the fresh flavor. At the end of dinner, and practically closing down the place, Arne was a perfect gentlemen by walking me to a taxi and paying the cost to send me on my way.

Such generosity, and friendship truly is touching. Even on bad days, or days when I don't give a damn. Countless people have been kind to me and generous. I try to pay homage to them in this blog by recognizing the beauty in their souls that is expressed through their generosity, but I really am only touching on the amount of people. Sometimes they pass quickly in and out of my life so that I can't learn their names, but I try. The generosity has been so touching that a few days after dinner with Arne, when  I befriended a cafe clerk who, upon parting, sent me on my way with all of the leftover pastries of the day - I cried as I walked out the door. A happy, grateful cry. In Norway I have hardly been able to afford food, which I had not anticipated. And this 20-something man just gave me enough pastries for 3 meals.

The luck of bird shit does not come short of the delivery of friends and food. Alas, disgusting seagulls - my deliverers it turns out!

The rest of my time in Norway was somewhat of a rush. While leaving the hostel in Oslo, I twisted my ankle with all of my backpack weight pulling me down harder than a normal fall. It would have just been a stagger for walking crooked. Now, my ankle is wrapped and due to that, and not being able to afford a tour, I have been quite limited to what my day has been full of.

Luckily, the pain didn't kick in until after my long day in Lillehammer, Norway. There I stayed with a sweet Norwegian girl named Helle. She was kind enough to take me in for two nights, and help me to get where I needed to be. Staying with Helle was like staying on an old friends couch, or a buddy that I see often and feel right at home with. 
The morning of my one and only full day in Lillehammer, Helle took me in her car to the bus station as a meeting point. Once I was left on my own, I learned quickly that to access any of the hikes I was interested in doing, I would need a car. "Buses don't go there" the information desk lady told me. It was unfortunate, but I was also relieved, because I started feeling like my body was tired again. My head was heavy. 

Instead of my original plan, I hiked from the bottom of Norway's largest lake, to the top of Lillehammer's 1994 Olympic ski jump. From far away the ski jump looked like a green slide made for a giant, or aliens, or God, and it was sitting with fields of hay at the foot of it that made it look like the slide went into a sandbox. On my walk up the road twisting and turning I started to hear the sound of water off in the woods behind the guardrail. Curious of course, I jumped the rail and started off into the woods. After only a few minutes of searching I came across waterfalls on waterfalls on waterfalls. Untouched! Although there was the occasional old tent stuck in the trees - of course locals must know about this - there was still the river and it was left as is, despite all of the surrounding development beyond the woods. There was no bike or walking path - no path at all. I climbed up the side of the waterfall. Testing my feet on the rocks so as not to slip. I slipped at a freshwater stream only two days earlier and was stuck in cold damp pants the rest of the day. We will not be fooled again Mother Nature!! When I reached the top of the waterfall I felt triumphant! I looked around, sat, and listened to the water. How soothing it is to listen to water rushing, falling, landing, and doing it all over again thousands of drops per second. I sat with my feet hanging over the edge and enjoyed the scenery until I couldn't sit anymore. Little did I know, my little nature hike would be followed by a 936 step hike to the top of the 1994 Olympic ski lift (its important in Lillehammer to always mention that it is the 1994 Olympic ski lift, not just a ski lift.) From there, after sitting and reading a book at the top while professional skiers practiced their jumps, I enjoyed a brisk run down the mountain and back to Norway's largest lake (also important to mention that it is Norway's largest lake, not just a lake.) I didn't learn until the pain kicked in later that I was running and hiking on a damaged ankle. 

At the end of the day, Helle picked me up and we had pizza and watched a movie. It really was like hanging out with my old buddy - and so relaxing because of it!

The next day I left early to journey from Lillehammer - Oslo - Bergen.

On the 5am train I slept.

On the 8am train, I slept some more. In fact I sprawled out on two seats and pretended like I was a sleeping giant.

I was awakened suddenly, when something in my mind said "get up! get up!" I sat up instantly, took a look around, and when I looked out the window there it was. Fjords upon fjords, and a glacier in the distance. I could see the snow caps on top of these colossal perfectly formed stone piles. Some of the patches of snow reflected the sun so brightly that I couldn't tell if they were lakes on the sides of mountains or leftover snow.

It was breathtaking. I tried to soak it all in, as I definitely wouldn't be able to afford a tour once I arrived in Bergen on the west coast of the country.

[My internal alarm must know when I want to be awake for something.
I learned later that immediately after my train had passed, there was a dynamite explosion on the tracks and all other trains for the day were detoured 2.5 hours on bus. It was at exactly the time I had awakened that the explosion occurred 2 hours away. Three rail construction workers died. No passengers or civilians were harmed, as trains were not passing through at the time. A terrible tragedy from a faulty dynamite. Thank God that it was an isolated incident, the deaths could have been far greater if a train were passing through. The death could have been mine, if my train were passing through. When I heard the news my heart pounded and my next breath was deep - I felt immense gratitude for it, followed by sadness for these men and their families.]

At 4pm I arrived in Bergen. I learned from the information center that, I was right, I definitely wouldn't be affording any tours. What would have been 50pounds in England, or 30Euros in Greece, was 1400 Kroners in Norway. It was unfortunate. I had gone to Bergen to do hikes, tours, see glaciers and fjords - with a bum ankle and an empty wallet I was limited to walking around the cobblestone fish market town. I was grateful that I took the 6 hour train to the town because that was the best tour I would have afforded, and free with my rail pass.
It was not so unfortunate to be forced to stay in Bergen. It is a beautiful town stacked in layers on the hills, and pouring into the sea where countless boats dock for fjord tours, and boat travel. The buildings are close together, different colors, and the year-round "fiskmarket" is held in tents in the city center for all to see... and smell.

After gaining hindsight, I realized that the universe was giving me a real gift. Sitting around and doing nothing in a beautiful seaside town in Norway! I had been exhausted, I had been worried, I had been in pain - and now all of that is gone because I have nothing more to do than to care for myself, sleep, do what I like on a slow-paced day. And also be reminded of the gift of life that I have, while some people lose theirs in tragic accidents. My diet has been restored by eating very little (due to affordability) and now, in the next week, when I am back to paying semi-regular prices in Sweden, Finland, Estonia, and Russia, I will not feel so stressed. I am finishing writing this entry from Stockholm Sweden, and already I have no stress, feel completely rested, and thanks to an ankle brace and taking it easy, I almost have no pain!

Norway really was a place to remind me of generosity, and humility. There had been times before when concern for money left me hungry, but never to the degree that I experienced these last 9 days. Even so, I had only a glimpse into that world. The world where people are always worried, always begging, starving. I noticed in many countries like Norway, Greece, Turkey (and a few other places) that beggars and gypsies are given money more frequently, rather than treated indifferently or looked down upon. People see them and know in their hearts I have a coin, and this woman will surely starve herself before her children. She could live with my coin and die without it. Maybe it's not that grandiose... but then again, maybe it is - and I have seen a great amount of generosity in the last month. In New York, it is common to see a mentally ill person in the street, or an addict begging for money - for that reason the approach to the homeless there is drastically different. People are often cautious or indifferent. I'd be more likely to call 911 for someone than give them money. I'd be more likely to give them food or talk to them than give them money. My mom - with her big heart that she inherited from her smiling loving parents - she goes by the rule of keeping Dunkin Donuts gift cards in the car for giving out. They are chains that only serve food and non-alcoholic beverages. The same with Subway. In Norway and Greece those aren't as big concerns. The concern is getting fed. Surviving. Even surviving to the point of being able to live a little.

Norway, in nutshell, is grandiose in its natural design, but humble, and generous in its people.

Add this to the "Revisit" list, underneath Morocco.

Why I travel

Following all of the interactions I've had up to this point in my trip, having my brother by my side is bringing together all of my reasons for why I travel. I don't think I fully knew why I so desired to travel - other than I want to - until all of my recent experiences and interactions slowly, but surely, brought all to fruition.

It's hard to explain to someone who maybe hasn't traveled, or someone who maybe doesn't think of people like I do - someone who doesn't think beyond their sight, or beyond their ears. Perhaps it would be a challenge if you never left your home state, or maybe you focused on the designated "priorities" of life that culture has laid out for you. Maybe you never were told that you could look outside of your box - that it is completely possible to live in a whole new world and to create your own entirely unique traditions and lifestyle.

I was told that the best response for someone who asks why I travel is silence. If they need to ask why one travels, then perhaps they could not understand the answer. It feels the same as someone asking me; Why do you know what you know? Why did you ever want to know it at all? Couldn't you unknow it so that you can move about your life with simplicity? Why do you have to complicate things?

I know what I want, and I am doing it. To me, that is simplicity. To me, that is natural. So many people don't do, even when they know their hopes and dreams. Step 1 is knowing, step 2 is doing, step 3 is learning.

I think it has become clear that I travel, for one, because of people. I want to understand more than anyone I have ever known. I crave to sit down and listen for hours about the woes of history, the triumphs over oppression, the ever-present opinions of a person living and breathing their own culture and beliefs while surrounded by differences. I crave to end stereotypes about American travelers, although I find myself behaving ignorantly at times - half-hazardly paying attention to the effects my behavior has on the people around me. Maybe I will never see them again, but then, maybe they will shake their heads or hiss and go on telling all of their colleagues about the obnoxious American - the inconsiderate pricks that we are. That's not to say there are not other cultures that have poor travelers. Nor does it mean that all Americans are poor travelers. It does mean, that there are splendid travelers and there are poor travelers.

The splendid traveler is who I aspire to, and how I speak about travel. It's the empathetic person who is eager to meet locals and hear differing opinions without judgment. To know the culture - to know the language or be familiar with it. Its as simple as being able to tell the difference between Dutch, and Deutsch, Swiss and Swedish, Spanish and Italian, Malay and Indo, Korean and Japanese, Farsi and Arabic - an Australian accent versus an English accent versus a New Zealand Accent. To know that an American accent is an accent - not a baseline from which all accents have stemmed. The splendid traveler knows that she is out of place and tries not to disrupt the environment she is in, rather, join it - or at least show desire to, and respect for the members. The plain fact that I can say hello in every country I go to changes the response of the people I speak with - even when I can't continue the conversation in their language. I tried. And we then respect one another. I, already entering with respect for the culture, and I, often needing to prove my respect and earn theirs as an American traveler - a byproduct of respect and trying is to feel safe, I'll be it comfortable, with foreign concepts and people. Americans do have a reputation as travelers - a terrible reputation - and I entirely understand it as I find myself, at times, being tested by eager young travelers around me.

The splendid traveler does not complain. She smiles. She knows when not to make eye contact. She does not give distasteful opinions about the culture she is in, and certainly not to a local. She knows the difference between disliking a tradition, and disrespecting one. She understands social cues. She understands that traveling alone is better because she is solely responsible for her own interactions. A splendid traveler has never been anywhere without creating a friend, and she understands that a friend does not necessarily mean a companion. She loves even when she is not loved. She knows when to ask questions, and she does. She knows when to be silent, and she does. She is choosey about when to be a child, and when to be an adult. Choosey about when to be spontaneous and when to be planned. This girl, has done her research - she isn't going in blind and so she knows what questions not to ask, and what places not to go. She is safe by herself because she is smart about all of these things. She has skills, but she learns others' and observes silently. Her opinion and experience is only important to her while she is traveling - and so she seeks the opinion and experience of others. Everyone likes to talk about themselves - the splendid traveler knows, however, that although everyone likes to talk about themselves, not everyone likes to listen about others. Silence is wise.

When she leaves her travels, maybe she has seen sights, and maybe she has spent money to climb on top of a tower for a view - being a tourist does not make anyone a poor traveler. Being only a tourist does. When she leaves her travels, although she may have toured (as she should to know the culture) - she also experienced the culture, the people, the language, the food, the tradition, the nature. And therefore when she leaves, she is able to love completely her counterparts and when she loves them completely she can be understanding beyond measure. International respect is extraordinarily powerful in human interactions and relationships.

Never seeing someone again, is not what is important. Leaving a handprint on their heart, and theirs on yours, is what is. A gentle handprint from a warm embrace is just as memorable, as a red handprint from a forceful slap. Sometimes when we are quick to hug - to get the hug out of the way - we squeeze too hard and our hug becomes painful. We must hold on, gently as a mother would, and we must breathe life into the hug. The shock of a warm unexpected hug, or a slap, are the same. Both can bring you to tears with their power, both are beyond measure in your heart. You will remember this, and although the slap or the hug may not have existed for anyone other than you and the other, it is now your truth and theirs. You share it.

For one, was because of people. For two, is because of me. All of what I said, about being a splendid traveler, and leaving your mark on a person's soul - all of those things make a person observant, stronger, better for herself and for others.  And her soul becomes marked as well. It enlightens. It's true that travel enlightens. Never again will you be forced to be so aware, so keen to your surroundings, who you are, how you behave, and what you believe. You cannot lie to yourself about anything, because you are your only companion. I notice that so many of us lie to ourselves rather than looking at who we are, rather than accepting our truths so that we can be the best. We can be the best but only with all of our flaws. No inward lies that blind our growth - only beauty in flaws and gifts. Many of us don't realize we lie about ourselves - to ourselves. Sometimes I see the truth of others even when they don't and when they speak I hear their lies - but they believe the lies. They havent yet realized their truth. Truth is necessary for enlightenment, and yet we often choose to feel other things instead, not realizing that it is only a distraction from your truth. Shame is yours only. Guilt is yours only. Embarrassment is yours only. You feel them because you choose to, and when you are completely honest with yourself, and love you anyway, all of those other negative things go away and you become wise.

I suppose in that respect that when I travel for me I travel for truth. Truth is the key to all of the mysteries of life, ourselves, humanity, God - enlightenment is the door in which the key can be found, and gratitude is the manner in which we pass the threshold. I'm not wise enough to tell you what is over the threshold, however, I imagine it is a place where there is no need for questions and no need for answers.

And so I travel for truth. At least for now.