The Antarctica Dilemma

In early 2010, upon my return from Australia, I realized that I had accomplished 6/7 of my dream of setting foot on all seven continents (I spent a day in La Guaira and Caracas, Venezuela when I was 12). I had always assumed that I would get around to reaching Antarctica at some point, but having reached six of seven continents by the age of 25, I was suddenly filled with an urge to complete the task and visit Antarctica the same year. Visiting Antarctica really only requires 3 things: a passport, a warm jacket, and $8,000 to spare. I'm never without the first two, but the thought of pulling $8,000 out of my savings was (and remains) a daunting idea. While I do spend that amount of money on travel annually anyway (as the above Wordle illustrates), I have always been able to justify the investment in my journeys because I have always chosen destinations that leave me culturally and experientially richer. Antarctica, however, is different.

While I do think penguins are lovely, and while I do think landscapes saved from human influences have a certain frontier appeal to them, for me personally, the only real reason I want to go to Antartica is to be able to say: "I have been to Antartica. I have travelled to seven continents and seven seas". So the question became: is my folly, my ego, worth the $8,000?

I have not yet been to Petra, or Kamchatka - how can I justify spending $8,000 on bragging rights when there are countless other more valuable uses for the money? Silently, to placate my ego as my judgement got the better of me, I made a little deal with myself that I wouldn't go to Antarctica until I could find a reason that made it about more than my folly. At the time, I figured that I would be able to justify spending the $8,000 on my ego only if I could simultaneously spend the same amount to put a child in the developing world through school, or something along those lines. So I put off the idea of Antarctica until I could make it about more than myself.

Fast forward to two weeks ago, and my good friend Alissa just returned from Australia and is in the 6/7 slot herself and is planning for Antarctica. As she invited me to consider joining her, I explained my Antarctica dilemma, and she pointed out that there might be a way to make the trip, and still make the trip about more than myself. Were I able to write for a scientific or travel journal, it might make it easier for me to make the trip, and make it more meaningful.

I have already been so fortunate to be able to travel as much as I have. I have visited more countries than my age (apparently that's a bona-fide "thing"). Yet the inescapably narcissistic millennial in me desperately wants to go, but the wiser woman warns that if I go for the wrong reasons, it will be a great waste. Also, since space tourism is still rather unattainable for those of us not fortunate enough to be rubbing elbows with Sir Richard Branson, I have to wonder what I would aspire to after Antarctica.

This, my friends is The Antarctica Dilemma (well, my personal one...I'm sure there is a similarly named climate change model and/or political sovereignty debate). If any amongst you can think of a way for me to travel there while simultaneously contributing to society, I would be grateful for your advice.

Now if you'll kindly excuse me, I have a vision board with a penguin I need to go stare at intensely.

Umbilical Cord

Possibly the favourite of my own work thus far, this piece is both inspired by and dedicated to my Leadership Calgary cohort. This is a spoken word observation of the sources of my consternation. Bear with the beginning, the real magic starts midpoint.

-RR

___

Umbilical Cord

In this state of suffering we abhorred
We cut our own umbilical cord
Flooded with the hurt of reality
We cut away the lifeboat
So we could survive, unbothered, but alone
In a sea of circus acts.

Don’t be fooled by the pretty picture on the cereal box
The prize is a distraction while the reality shocks.
Spoon feeding ourselves a diet of denial
Denial that we are all victims
Denial that we are all perpetrators.
So put on those rose coloured glasses they give you
To Polarize the suffering as the other’s plight
To view truth and beauty as only your right

Put on the Gucci suit
Carry on your pursuit
Your reverie uninterrupted
Your blind beliefs uncorrupted

Though
Some part of you knows
That their hurt is yours
And this lonely-in-a-crowd kind of happiness is false
But we all keep up the charade
Because we don’t like to think of ourselves as cannibals
Preying on our own weak
To pay for our weekend
Getaway
To be someone else’s guest
In our endless quest
For a happiness that might otherwise have been found at the bottom of the hurt
If we had only stuck it out, and not cut the cord.

Nothing strikes my ire more than
Obsession with desire
Worse yet, a manufactured one
The true joy that is in front of us carries on, undesired, thus no outcomes sired
So I pretend to be Little Miss Sunshine – a character to admire
Yet just a response to my fear of mortality.

The Musicians – they have always known
So we starve the artists
And marginalize the artisans
For refusing to be partisan
To the Empire of Illusion
For not buying the delusion -
Now available in three colours and surroundsound, and did I mention high definition?
That further propagates the tradition...of excess

What happened to the Age of Aquarius?
Now the sages are scaring us
While consumerism is daring us
to keep on comparing us
To our neighbour.
So we turn our backs to our brother
When all we ever needed was each other.

Now make no mistake, I am guilty...
and I am not preaching, teaching
Or beseeching
As some enlightened despot,
‘Cause I’d still rather be the sexpot
Since form is worth more than content;
I am content, with my addiction to the sound of my own voice.
Do you hear that silence?It is my choice.
For I could be so much greater than my intentions
But I love my pretensions
And while I have my principles,
I’m not invincible
So I coddle my ego
And placate my conscience.

The television.
The television urges us not to fight it
Instead to be excited
Be, Be, Excited
What’s this, Bob Barker, a new washer-dryer?
How about this non-drip non-stick deep fryer?
Because that’s exactly what we need right now...more bacon!

And maybe, we’ll put it between two pieces of chicken
A culinary therapy guaranteed to turn your frown upside double-down.
When did gluttony become such a competition?
Or is it because we secretly hope to die off of a heart attack before the collective consequences of our collective actions come back to haunt us?
So let’s just let that bacon taunt us.

The horror, the horror,
I envy the whore, or
That vagabond
who has no bonds
to this chimera.
But me? I have no excuses
I cannot claim ignorance
For I am here, to declare
for once, that I’m aware
Of the illness that plagues us.

But I’m a good person.
I’ll buy my peace with a donation!
And if I pay with plastic, I’ll earn points for my vacation,
Maybe I’ll miss the point, but I’ll make the flight
Conscience is cheap and might is right

Spare me the starving children naked,
I can’t take it
Tell me no more
For I can choose to ignore
You are not a part of me
And wilful blindness is a luxury
I can afford
So F—k you humanity,
I’m joining the crowd,
I’m cutting the cord.

- Rehana Rajabali
01/02/2012



(c) Copyright Rehana Rajabali 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Verbose

Here, take it: my magnum opus.
I offer it to you
As a blushing bride, her innocence
Too long kept
Lady-in-waiting no more/
Lyrics released from the kitchen drawer
Words and knives never made for good company anyway
Unless in cutting wit
Better that you see and judge me my nudity
Than never know me through my veils
Here it is, my heart in ink
Be gentle, be tender, but above all else, be honest
For nothing is crueler than condescension

Make it worth my courage

Urban Behaviour :: Bangkok Bygone

Getting to Krabi airport from Koh Lanta is no easy task. The two ferry crossings, scenic drive through the mangrove, plus less scenic drive on the mainland take about two and a half hours in total. We then had a two hour flight to Bangkok, followed by a battle with the the infamous traffic between the airport and Sukhumvit (allow me to clarify - the traffic is infamous between any two points in Bangkok). Bangkok and Lanta are thus a full day apart in travel time but even farther apart in terms of ambiance, and the otherwise omnipresent sincerity of the people had dissolved in the urban fabric.

What tipped me off first was the taxi drivers. The necessity of a "taxi information sheet" with a built in complaint form was a first clue. The second clue was when our driver tried to take mine away from me. The third clue was the fact that Lonely Planet warned me that the driver might try to take it away. While we never felt unsafe in Bangkok, there were certainly fewer smiles and a 'business first, pleasanteries second' attitude: a stark contrast to our experience of the locals up to then. Still, when considering that the flood crisis had barely begun to subside, their desperation was understandable, and Bangkok customer service at its worst still outdoes the average North American experience.

It was on my last day in Thailand that I finally got around to having my first real Thai massage. It was like going to a yoga class, only someone else contorted your body for you. I have no aversion to pain if I know the result is worth it, but I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that it hurt much less than expected to be twisted into a human pretzel. Sixty minutes and twelve dollars (it was an upscale spa) later, I felt more limber than ever before. If only I had known how good it was, I would have gone every day! The wisdom of hindsight has a bittersweet taste, but I have resolved to make sure I take full advantage when I return to Thailand. From the natural beauty of the verdant countryside, to the flavourful cuisine I have learned to make myself, to the sound of saffron-clad monks laughing in he mornings, to the legendary Thai smile, this is a kingdom whose treasures I have only begun to discover.

Laid Back Lanta

The great advantage of Thailand's Andaman Coast, stunning scenery aside, is its myriad of destinations to explore. We chose Koh Lanta as our beach getaway, hoping it would be the antithesis of Phuket's Patong Beach. Lanta, the darling choice of Swedish families and slow-life seeking backpackers, proved to be exactly that. If Chiang Mai can be considered chilled out, then Lanta is positively laid back. Saladan, the "big" town on the main island of Koh Lanta Yai, is in fact a two-road sleepy fishing village.

Splurging on our accomodations since the beach bungalows that were our first choice turned out to be full, we stayed at the Crown Lanta Resort, which turned out to be as pretty as the pictures on the website. Sadly, the "tucked away" paradise was a little too tucked away for our purposes, as we found ourselves the only twentysomethings among families and retired couples. The service was pretty dismal too: the resort is best described as a case-in-point that beauty alone is no substitute for character.

Koh Lanta's musical taste tended towards reggae, which was fitting given the prevailing ganja culture, but I still haven't figured out which one spawned the love of the other. The subculture is so prominent, in fact, that sometimes I felt like the island has an identity crisis: Koh Lanta - The Island That Thought It Was Jamaica. With Bob Marley on the speakers, restaurants named "Irie", and a half-question/half-statement island motto of “everything alright?!”, you couldn't help but wonder. Life slowed down on Lanta, possibly due to all the second-hand pot smoke. My friend Salma and I always encountered surprised looks when we explained we didn't smoke pot - somehow it was doubly surprising given their previous experiences of Canadians. Never has an island epitomized laid-back the way that Lanta does.

Daytime was spent lazing by the beach or the pool, but one day I took a snorkelling trip to Koh Mok and some of the other small islets around Koh Lanta. The highlight for me was visiting the Morokot - the Emerald Cave. It’s an island that has a beach in the middle of it, entirely surrounded by the cliffs of the island, that you can access by swimming through a cave during low-tide. It was spectacular, because it looked like you were swimming smack into the base of a 100 ft tall cliff-island, and though the cave was a beautiful green when you first enter, it twisted and turned such that we had to pass through complete darkness at one point. On the inside, the water became shallow again as we saw the light on the other side, and we soon and we emerged on a small but pristine beach INSIDE the island. It was surrounded on all sides (including the one we just swam through) by cliffs. It was like being at the center of a volcano. Apparently the locals used to come to the island to hunt swallow eggs, and later used it as a secret storage place for treasure. For me it was a surreal experience, as if I had stepped into a Sir Arthur Conan Doyle novel. Soon afterwards, a storm moved in and made the rest of the snorkelling trip a write-off, proving that one of the requisites for a good time on Koh Lanta is good weather.

In the evenings we ended up getting a (pimped out!) tuktuk to drive us to Phra Ae, also known as Long Beach, which was supposed to have the best nightlife. Indeed there was beach bar after beach bar, but they were all nearly empty. Though supposedly the start of high season, the flooding news in Bangkok had deterred tourists from all but the most popular of other Thai destinations. It's the people that make the party, however, and we ended up going back to the same two bars for three nights in a row, because at each we found great company and plenty of laughs thanks especially to the bartenders and fellow travellers. Those evenings turned out to be some of the most entertaining of our trip, and proved the final point of what I like to call The Lanta Clause: the theory that on Koh Lanta, you need either good weather, ganja, or great company to have a blast.

Phuketabboudit :: Pitiful Patong

A word of warning to my fellow travellers: unless you are looking to see middle aged farang men strutting around the overdeveloped beach wearing banana hammocks with a Thai prostitute on their arm, avoid Patong. Had we ended up staying in another part of Phuket, we may not have spent our one night there trying to figure out how to leave, but alas even one night in the Patong Women's Prison (as we nicknamed our hotel thanks to the mattress-on-the-floor excuse for a bed and cheap decor labelled as zen) was enough. We made a beeline the next morning for Koh Lanta, opting to use Koh Phi Phi as a ferry transfer station rather than destination. While we had originally planned to partake in the legendary late night reveling that Phi Phi is known for, in addition to its famous beach, we made the mistake of not booking our accommodation in advance, and decided to bunk down on Koh Lanta instead.

Chilled Out Chiang Mai :: The Contemplation/Action Compaction

Ride an elephant, check. White water and bamboo rafting, check. Hike up to a beautiful waterfall with Akha tribe houses along the river, check. Spend a day learning Thai cuisine on an organic farm, check. In Chiang Mai, great experiences are all within a day's trek. Set at the foot of Northern Thailand's mountains - not far from the Burmese border - Chiang Mai, which means 'New Walled City', is over 800 years old. And it is the glowing soul of Thailand. Dotted with hundreds of Wats within it, and ever guarded by the magnificent Doi Suthep temple perched 1700m above it, there is an unmistakable spirituality to Chiang Mai. This notion was further reinforced to us by the beautiful wake up call as heard from our guesthouse: the sound of monks chanting in the mornings. Though plenty of tourists visit it, Chiang Mai retains a quaintness in its narrow Sois shared by tuktuks, trucks, pedestrians, dogs, and laundry set out to dry. Our guesthouse, simple but spotless and set out in a very Zen way, was tucked inside one such alley within the old city walls. Chiang Mai continues to cultivate a culture of learning, which works well with the genre of tourist that it attracts. Don't just eat Thai cuisine, learn how to cook it. Don't just receive a Thai massage, learn how to give it. Don't just ride an elephant, learn to be a mahout and train it.

The city's greatest asset of all, though, is its people. Always joking in the deadpan Thai sort of way, and ever helpful, there is sincerity behind their omnipresent smiles. Though we met plenty of interesting fellow tourists and expats, we especially enjoyed the company of the locals. From the tour guides to the bartenders to our tuktuk drivers to our hosts to our cooking teachers, there wasn't a single local we met whose company we didn't enjoy. Mind you, there was the one crazy tuktuk driver with a deathwish, who drove like a real life version of Crazy Taxi and giggled at our mortal fear as he weaved between oncoming trucks at what felt like 140km/h, but in retrospect even that was enjoyable. Canadians might be friendly, but though we are well mannered we absolutely fail to engage one another (and visitors) in the way that Thais do.

Days are filled with activities but nights themselves are a joy...from shopping and drinking fresh fruit shakes in the Night Bazaar to dancing under the lanterns and the stars at Zoe in Yellow, contemplation and action live in happy harmony in Chiang Mai.