Mexican Maladies

I was starting to believe that I had a curse upon me, seeing as how right when I arrived Joel got sick. The kind of food poisoning you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. We called it an early night and he headed to his hostel and I to mine. I had this nutty idea that I would somehow get good sleep at Humble Bumble. Not the case. Music began blasting around 9 pm and didn't stop until 2 or 3 in the morning. I don't mean the kind of loud music you can block out with ear plugs, by the the way.

It made me look back at my late teens and early twenties and wonder how on Earth I had the energy to do that while traveling- stay up until the wee hours and dancing and chatting and drinking. I am so, so over it. 

The next morning, Joel met me at Humble Bumble because mine had free breakfast, but he decided his stomach was still too wonky to try and eat at the moment. So I scarfed down my omelette and we headed to the beach. Joel was beginning to get weak from the food poisoning, so we took a cab. Then we spent essentially the entire day on the beach, lying in the sun and alternating between reading and napping and, in my case, journaling. It was so relaxing for me but I felt horrible for Joel. He just seemed to feel worse and worse as the day progressed. Finally, after having been on the beach for like 9 hours, we headed to a nearby restaurant where I ordered him s side of white rice to try and get something in him. I had beans and rice and friend plantains, as well as some of the best guac I've ever had.

After eating some of his rice, Joel straight up had to lie down, which was fortunate because we were eating on a couch. We then walked slowly to find a cab that took us to a pharmacy so I could pick up some NyQuil for Joel which they didn't even have so I just got something just looked like NyQuil. We then went our separate ways. 

The next day when Joel met me for breakfast, he looked so extremely depleted. Much to both of our surprise and delight, there hadn't been any music the night prior at either of our hostels so we finally got a good night of rest. Joel was so low on energy he didn't even think he could make it to the beach. So I went for a quick jog, he lied in a lawn chair and waited for my return.

When I got back, I had sweat trickling from areas I didn't know sweat could come from. I was ready for a shower, and needed it especially after 7 days without one. I got into the shower with a head dribbling out cold water at the lowest water pressure you can imagine, soaped myself up from head to toe, and then guess what happened? The water ran out after about two minutes. I mean, I was so annoyed but based on how the trip had panned out so far, I wasn't shocked. So I put a mug under the tiny trickle of water dripping from the sink until it was full and then repeated until I got the soap off of me. It was the most magical shower of my life. 

Afterwards, I returned to Joel who was then lying in a hammock reading. I lied down on a lawn chair beside him and did the same. I told him I was going to venture into town for a bit to try and find him meds and get myself a drink from Starbucks. Town was relatively close, and it took me no more than ten minutes to find some Pepto at a pharmacy. That finally seemed to improve Joel's condition, but he was still so weak and just wanted to lie around and read, which was fine with me. At the end of the evening, he took the cab back to his hostel and I went to my room in mine. And that's where my six-seven day saga of puking and nausea began. 

 

The Saga of the Toyota Starlight

I get excited about some very strange things, something made very apparent to me by the expressions of others around me when I share said excitement. Okay, I suppose I understand when others don't share in my exuberance over things like kale, going to bed at 9, reading the newspaper, and anything involving Ed Sheeran. Just like those things, I thought my enthusiasm about my new found ability to drive on the left side of the road in a car with a manual transmission was something I could share with others. I was wrong.

First, some background information. I was pretty anxious about the idea of driving a stick-shift, since I hadn't in about a year, and even more so about driving one on the left side of the road in New Zealand. However, my desire to have personal transportation trumped my anxieties, so I mercilessly obliterated them, repeated the Nike motto, "just do it," and got in the driver's seat of my friend's 1986 Toyota Starlet. It is truly a marvel to behold; tiny and blue, dents and dings throughout including a gash in the door that looks like it hit the iceberg from Titanic. Yet, in all honesty, I'd never want it looking any different. Every scratch or mark gives the metal box that much more character. I certainly respect it- it is quite a bit older than I am, after all.

The same model as the car I've been using here

I was nervous for my first lesson. The only time I have ever driven on the left side of the road was in a fancy, automatic vehicle many years the Toyota Starlet's junior. So, when Jim (my friend in New Zealand lending me the car) told me it was time, I began to clam up. I imagined we would just be driving in circles around the block. At least, I figured we would have a couple of gos at me starting and stopping since it was my first time in a long time using a manual transmission. However, driving stick came back to me much like riding a bike, as the saying goes. Shifting gears, even with my left hand, felt completely natural- the only thing it took a bit to adjust to was the lack of a 5th gear. I also had to learn about a mysterious new addition to the car- the choke. I still am not completely sure what it is, but I do know how to use it now. Pull it out to start the car, push it in once the car has been running for a bit.

Anyways, after just one lesson, I felt relatively comfortable driving the New Zealand roads in the wee car (as they would say here). Of course, I did make some mistakes- I often hit the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal, and I often drove too close to the left side of the road. The next day, I was still a bit nervous about taking roundabouts in a different direction and taking right turns, but I decided there was no better way than to just practice. So, I ventured out on my own and drove to the gym.

When I made it there without incident, I was beaming with pride, just like the mother of an honors student as she slaps a bumper sticker letting the whole world know of her child's academic achievements onto her car. I felt the need to share this excitement with someone, ANYONE. Yet as I went there alone, I decided to tell a stranger- the receptionist at the gym. As I told her how proud I was of my left-hand driving success, her eyes glazed over with complete disinterest, as if my voice were the same as the PA system lady from Charlie Brown.

Gym Lady: Huh. You don't say. Do you want to visit the sauna or thy gym?
Me (feeling slightly crushed): oh... both, I guess...
Gym Lady (without an ounce of expression whatsoever): Yeah, treat yourself...

Ugh! I was so frustrated! How dare she not share in the enthusiasm of a complete stranger who just mastered her country's bizarre driving differences to which the aforementioned stranger is not accustomed!

Whatever, I sweated out my anger which she instilled in me while "treating myself" in the sauna.

I hope you all have enough stamina to read this next story about the Starlet. I was going to make it a separate post, but then I decided to just go ahead and include it.

One of the most exciting aspects of driving such an old and well-loved car is that I never really know if it is going to start, or just rumble a bit and totally crap out. This morning as we were about to head into town, it was the latter. As I heard the devastating sound that goes with a dead battery as the car tried, tried and failed, I felt crushed. Well, it looked like I'd be spending the day at home.

However, Jim's son, Nic, was thankfully home and came outside right as we were going to give up. "Has it gone flat?" he asked. I assumed that was an expression for "has the battery died" (a post to come later about strange New Zealand terminology,) and nodded, looking defeated. "Let's try a push start!" he offered. Well, I was basically up for anything. Whatever that was, I was willing to give it a shot. He gave us instructions- he and Alex would push the car, and as I was rolling down the hill, I would quickly take my foot off the clutch and simultaneously push on the accelerator which would, theoretically, start the car and enable me to put it in gear and head on my merry way.

I was nervous, but ready. The guys gave me a push, and I was off. The car sped up, and then came the moment of truth- I needed to time it perfectly. I took a deep breath, dropped the clutch, and pushed the accelerator and lo and behold, she started! Woo!

It's only been a week since I began driving that lovely car, and I've already learned more about vehicles than I probably ever have in my life. I can only imagine how this next week will go!

An Elephant-Sized Adventure

Prior to last week, my elephant-riding experience was limited to sitting atop a pachyderm at the renaissance fair in Colorado while someone led it around in a couple of circles. Thanks to a visit to the Baanchang Elephant Park in Chiang Mai, Thailand, I can now say that I have ridden multiple elephants as well as bathed them and fed them. Yes, I have had a close encounter of the Dumbo kind.

Visitors to Thailand often have reservations about going to elephant parks due to inhumane treatment of the gentle giants. For example, some feel hesitant about riding them at all and some don't like the fact that parks often use chains on the elephants' feet. I admit I found it a bit jarring that the elephants were chained up despite reassurances that they got plenty of exercise multiple times a day and were all rescued from prior lives of logging and other poor treatment.

The park had over 45 elephants which we were able to feed mass amounts of banana and sugarcane. The hunger of the giant beasts never seemed satiated, their greedy trunks constantly reaching out to us as if magnetized, asking for more goodies. Their power as they ate became quickly apparent- their teeth crunched a bunch of bananas like it were a tiny marshmallow, swallowing it in one gulp. After feeding them, we learned how to ride them and each had a go taking them around a couple of trees with their trainers, called mahouts, nearby. I was grateful for the presence of the mahout especially when I forgot the commands for "go," "stop," "turn," and "lie down." I was surprised at the similarities of riding a horse and an elephant.

One massive difference, of course, was the size. The moment I mounted the elephant and sat in the area just behind its ears, I realized the ease with which it could buck me off if irritated, making it clear that I was at its mercy entirely. This made me a bit nervous as we didn't need to sign any sort of waiver.

After riding around on the elephants for about an hour, we dismounted with nice and sore legs and gave the pachyderms a bit of a wash. I was a bit skeptical about getting into a cold pond filled with elephant dung, but decided it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. At the end of the day, we ate some pad thai, said goodbye to our new friends and parted ways.

Today, I Jumped off A Cliff

Okay, if you want to get technical, I scuffled off of a very steep incline because my crippling fear prevented my legs from running to what appeared to be my death. The lack of information regarding paragliding that we received is laughable- the only instruction I heard from my paragliding pilot was "run!" Whenever I voiced a concern, such as "hm, my harness feels loose..." or "how do we land?" he merely mumbled "yes" or "no," as he hardly spoke a word of English.

I knew that paragliding in Bir was one of those "must do" things, since the area is known for running off of gorgeous mountains and sailing through the sky. So we waited for a day in which the weather was ideal- sun shining against azure blue, sparse, gentle, cotton-ball clouds floating along peacefully. We could not have asked for a better day than today to fly. Well, we could have, but that would just be getting picky and demanding. At 9:30, we all boarded a van to make the long trek up to the take-off site. Around 10 in the morning, the steep grade beside our vehicle and the sheer altitude of our location began to elevate my heart rate and make me thankful that I made a will prior to arriving in India, The picturesque view awaiting us at the top calmed me once more, until they began to strap me in and I watched the others running until the wind caught them.

When my pilot told me to run, my legs turned to jello. I closed my eyes and pretended I was running on solid ground until I felt nothing beneath my feet. Once airborne, I felt instantly calm. The sheer beauty surrounding me cancelled out the natural fear associated with sitting on a little camp-chair like thing at such a high altitude. The most terrifying, but also most fun part of the flight was when my pilot asked if I wanted to do "aerobatics" and I said "oh, that sounds scary..." and before I could ponder the scenario and consent (I like to think before making decisions while airborne 5,000 feet in the air) he said "ok, I begin now." Before I knew it, we were corkscrewing down to Earth and my stomach flew into my throat, causing a wave of nausea to wash over me.

Thankfully, the air stunts did not last long, and a few moments later, we were ready to touch down. My landing was not exactly elegant; I landed awkwardly on my ankle. Forty dollars well spent, I would say. The most comical aspect of the day is that they did not make us sign a waiver. I'm pretty positive my travel insurance does not cover paragliding mishaps. All of the volunteers were happy to have done it, even Maree who overcame her fear and eventually stopped crying once airborne. She admitted having second thoughts, but the van ditched us after dropping us off at the top of the mountain leaving only one easy way to get back down. The experience bonded our volunteer family even tighter, if that is possible.