Dibba, which I’ve also seen written as Daba, Dabba, Dibya, Dabya and Doba, has helped me redefine just how sleepy a little town can be. Living here has felt a bit like stepping back in time, life following the simplicity of the desert landscape. There are quite possibly more goats than people, roaming about town wherever they please, and you’ll also find the occasional wild donkey milling about, left over from days when they were expected to haul in fishing nets. Superstitions still abound, so far I’ve heard not to photograph the goats or they won’t produce milk, not to kayak off the main beach because it scares the fish away, and to only eat dates in odd numbers if you want any of the nutritional benefits.
Somehow I have already been in Arabia, specifically the United Arab Emirates and Oman, for exactly one month, although it feels more like one week. I’m sitting in my courtyard taking my first lazy day off since I arrived, coincidentally the first day that the weather has been pleasant enough to sit outside anytime after 7am or before 7pm. As I enjoy the breeze while bingeing on snacks left over from last week’s student group, I guess I will attempt to rewind to day one.
Protest that endures, I think, is moved by a hope far more modest than that of public success: namely, the hope of preserving qualities in one’s own heart and spirit that would be destroyed by acquiescence. -Wendell Berry
The hours when the mind is absorbed by beauty are the only hours in which we truly live, so that the longer we can stay among these things so much the more is snatched from inevitable Time. -Richard Jefferies
I spent this summer playing around the San Juan Islands working as a kayak guide, where I successfully managed not to lose anyone at sea, although I did have to rescue capsized clients (twice!). During my months in Washington I started lead climbing, hiked many hikes, and entered a new decade. I can hardly believe the summer is really over, although it’s even harder to believe in less than a week I’ll be leaving my beloved west coast, bound for a new job in Oman.
There are years that ask questions, and years that answer. -Zora Neale Hurston
After my first taste of the majestic Himalayas in Leh I was eager to spend more time in the mountains, and planned to spend the last part of April trekking in Darjeeling and Sikkim. As the trip grew closer the idea of going back to India started to give me night sweats, and so despite having lugged around unnecessary cold weather trekking clothes for months, I decided to eat the costs of my flights and instead head to Myanmar for my final trip. I’m feeling pretty lazy about actually writing anything, but here are a few pictures:
I was lucky enough to spend cumulatively a little over a month working in Bali, and despite being overrun with tourists, I still found it to be kind of a magic place.
We must risk delight. We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of the world.- Jack Gilbert
I’ve been thinking a lot about joy lately, especially as the current political climate continues to relentlessly break my heart, and since reading Naomi Klein’s ‘This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate’ has been giving me some restless nights. All I can figure is the only way to combat the phase we’re in now is to speak up where it matters, to love with more depth, to be even kinder, and to stubbornly enjoy every little moment of joy we can find. Sri Lanka provided the perfect opportunity to practice gladness, it really was a perfect 12 day trip.
Let me keep my distance always from those who think they have the answers. Let me keep company always with those who say ‘look’ and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads. -Mary Oliver
Sa bai dee, Laos! I wish I had been more motivated in Nong Khiaw, but I didn’t accomplish much else other than watching the slow rotation of the earth from my hammock. After a lazy two days I moved down to Luang Prabang, which I found totally charming. Hugged on either side by the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers, there were plenty of riverside cafes to relax at, temples to explore and well preserved French colonial buildings to admire. I perhaps should have done more research on the appropriate time to visit, turns out April is low season because of the oppressive heat and haze that covers the north’s sleepy little towns like a quilt. Midday the unrelenting temperatures made anything other than cowering in the shade with a cool drink impossible, but once the heat grew a little more manageable I spent the late afternoon walking around, passing temples filled with monks in saffron robes and perusing little shops.
With Flores it was love at first sight, truly. My short flight from Denpasar to Labuan Bajo offered views of volcanic islands surrounded by perfectly clear turquoise waters, and by the time I landed on a runway practically built on top of the sea, I was all in. Our main motivation for the visit was to stop by neighboring Komodo Island National Park to say hi to the dragons, but one of my best friend’s best friends, Anna, who manages a dive shop in the area insisted that diving was a must, and she couldn’t have been more right.
What a whirlwind 2017 has been! I’ve been on the move constantly, living out of my backpack while balancing work or play in a different country every couple of weeks. It’s been a blast, but after three months of non-stop motion I’m finding myself a bit weary. As a remedy, I flew into Laos and immediately made my way to Nong Khiaw, a sleepy riverside town that perfectly matched my mood. After my first day this entire year spent alone, I finally got some much needed introvert recharge time, spending a lazy afternoon watching the Ou River meander past from a hammock on my hotel balcony. After a 10 hour long nights sleep, I finally feel rested enough to attempt to turn these half finished thoughts into some sort of a post.
After a busy month shuffling between different gigs at an animal sanctuary in Cambodia, back to Tioman and finally up to northern Malaysia to the tea plantations of the Cameron Highland (Malaysia’s equivalent of the Pacific Northwest), Gary and I hopped on a flight to Ho Chi Minh City in southern Vietnam, the motorbike capital of the world. In that spirit, we set out to buy our own, crossing our fingers that it would carry us all the way north to Hanoi.