El Nido

While paddling across a small cove after breakfast, our Filipino kayak guide named Aaron catches my attention and points his paddle across the cove to an off white and burnt orange overhung wall a couple hundred meters away.  He quickly performs the apparently international climbing signal to me - hands climbing up a ladder. We silently paddle forth. 

For the last three days, Molly and our dear Bend-based buds Tyson and Sara, and our three local support crew have been thoroughly enjoying the Bacuit bay off the coast of spunky little El Nido town on northern Palawan island.  Our itinerary is dreamy - paddle on SUPs and kayaks from one palm-lined beach to another, playing coy with the distance from the jagged, featured, castle-like, limestone karst cliffs that rise from their wave-bashed erroded undercut, often one or two hundred meters into the sky.  The cracks and seams splitting the rock house vegetation on the nearly vertical stone.   Aaron, in his heavily accented English, may tell us the snorkeling is good here, or we need to hop in the support boat and putt putt to another location.  When we chose it, the snorkeling was incredible - great shallow reefs with big shelf drops for us to free dive and test our nerves under water.  Who knew Mol-oi (her growing Viet nickname) was such a little fish.  She has Casco bay water in her blood.

During the snorkel, our guides would prepare an exquisite lunch of rice, fresh fish, a veg salad and enough watermelon to choke a horse.  One day after a post lunch nap on the boat, we performed an impromptu Christmas concert fir the nearby coral with our boat hand on the ukulele, the captain on percussion, and the remaining 5 as vocalists of varying talent.  We sipped local rum diluted with coconut water while laughing at and with each other over missed notes and made up lyrics - a true bonding moment with our fun loving guides, transcending the differences in our respective roles of client and guide. New friends just enjoying common musical backgrounds.

Filipinos love basketball.  Plain and simple.  Waking up in the beach one morning, wiping my eyes of sand, both blown in from a storm and self produced from slumber, our guides pick up the basketball lodged between the two tree trucks that hold up the fastened 2x4 backboard and rusted rim.  We shoot around for a few minutes. Before long, we are playing to 13 in a 2v2 match on the small patch of packed sand, hardly bigger than a normal key on a court.  No dribbling - only passing, cutting, jumping, and pumping.  Final score: Philippines 13, USA 12.

Little wonder that days later our boat man would rush to unpack our gear after our trip finished only to walk directly to the nearest court to play in the local semi final.  International jerseys, great no-look passes, and hard but smiley play entertained the crowd.  An announcer excitedly gave commentary and updates through a loudspeaker. We watched the game with the other 120+ El Niditos as they played for a trophy, cash prize, and a bottle of Rum provides by our tour host, El Gordo.  A top notch guide and homestay establishment that hosts dozen of community development events throughout the year.

I didn't have my mind set on climbing, as my hands were pretty torn up from exploring the needly vertical aspects of lagoons the previous day.  As we approached the rock, Tyson scoped the route that would eventually test my deep water solo limits.  I stood on the front of his paddle board to start the route and cautiously traversed to a small ledge on bulletproof stone.  Looking over to the next section required constant vigilance of the sea depth and wave pattern below me, as it looked tricky without an easy exit.  A few fun exposed moves later, I leaped 20' into the ocean, rising up to bask in homie props and safety.  Sara's turn. She strong-armed the first major overhang, a characteristic of every good looking route in the area and made the traverse to ledge before executing an obviously well practiced backflip.  With no rush from our guide (ever) we paddled home to be welcomed by Gordo and his wife Christina for another amazing meal and story time. 

We are so lucky to be traveling with good friends for the holidays. So grateful for the wonderful Filipino guides, host's, servers, ballers, chefs, kids, and captains, for the food, the fish, and the feeling of family.  Excited to see the Blackburn's in a week.  Merry Christmas!

Cafe scene

I sit in a small wicker chair at a dim incandescent café at 6:30pm on a Friday.  A sweet mix of Vietnamese/English music plays in the background as a constant stream of moto commuters make their way to their respective abodes, cafes, or funky bars.  I sit in the back corner, which is also against the simple bar, looking out through both the open front door and the even larger accordion style side door.  Typically, as I enter an establishment, I seem to sit in the seat and at the table that positions me in a place to have the most active view - a win/win when I'm alone because I don't think about other's visual experiences. 

Out the door a small middle aged woman and her significantly younger make counterpart collect the nightly neighborhood rubbish.  He strolls 10 meters down each of three narrowing alleys at the end of the road ringing a loud cow bell.  Residents, as if its as natural as sipping hot tea in the chilly afternoon, bring their rubbish to the woman who stands on the rail of the dumpster cart shoving down the bags of trash. 

Across the street two crusty lads passionately steel each other's Chinese checkers piece under the florescent light.  They are much more relaxed than the gang of dudes who choke down cigs and sunflower seeds as they play game on top of game in front of our apartment by the pond. Every. Single. Night. 

I ask the cute server to fill my glass mug with a hot water so I can are so my sweetened Lipton bag again as wait for Mol to finish her final fitting of her wedding dress.  The smell of nearby cigs wafts into my brain as if they were my own.  I write to ease the familiar jitters associated with the anticipation of loads of upcoming adventure-ridden free time.  After waves of being family sick in the coldest dampest 60° imaginable, a possible dinner date with my dear cousin looms on the horizon before we board a 1:30am flight to Manila to kick off our winter break.  Who knew life would always be asking us to walk the balance between the simple and the complex and find purpose in it all?

Team building

I can't remember the last weekend we didn't spend at least one evening with new friends.  The core are St. Paul teachers from the states, but Vietnamese friends and Spanish families add diverse cultural flavor to our free time.  A few weeks ago we burned the midnight and early morning oil dancing at a music festival just outside of Hanoi the peninsula of a massive lake.  It was a colorful way to bond with co-workers sleeping in the dirt and wearing... well, sometimes not very much.  After the festival, Molly contacted the lead artist from our favorites two sets, the Hanoied Jazz Band, and sang at weeknight gig with them.  Unfortunately a demanding professional schedule doesn't jive with regularly performing at late night jazz clubs.  Her dream lives on.

Spanish footballers, Taylor (happy 30th) & Dana

Our friend & school athletic director (Taylor above) coordinated a super fun 5k turkey trot and thanksgiving feast for all our students and families at school.  It was a great community building event and a few of the students and staff including myself shared gratitude's in front of the entire school.  Shortly after the event, fourteen of us flew down to Nha Trang on the southern coast for a weekend of mud baths, theme parks, beaching, and powerful stream exploring.  We are both so grateful for the community people we have met and friendships we have made both here and the eternal relationships we have with our friends and families pre-Vietnam.  We told ourselves before we left the only way we could manage a second year here was to develop bonds a community of fun adventurous people... so we signed contracts for 2018-2019 school year!

Humbled by a powerful flow - Nha Trang

Two more gratitudes go out to my bicycle and the Vietnamese teacher at our school.  The last 4 months was the longest time I had gone without regularly riding a bicycle.  Now I have made the 10 mile commute to school through the chaotic but relatively slow Hanoi traffic a few times.  Pedaling brings so much good energy into my life - I am glad to have it back. Secondly, I love learning Vietnamese (although it's a two steps forward one step back type of process.  I still can't even say what I want 95% of the time, but the few survival phrases and informal yet contextual greetings I have learned form my last two weekly lessons have elevated me from the casual tourist lingo group to the I-actually-live-here-and-want-to-learn category.   It's fun to noticeably improve in something that offers such a huge reward - the ability to communicate verbally and learn about wonderful people.  Chuc may man!  [good luck]

Moloi, Michelle, Antonella - 

Katie, Itoro, Moloi at Vinpearl - Nha Trang

Relaxing mornings... and Fansipan

Horizontal max out, pre-curry and ginger tea Dinner in Pai

Historically I equated productive mornings off with rushed breakfasts, pre-dawn approaches, and all days hikes/climbs.  While they will never completely escape future morning repertoires, I have fully prioritized sleep while still rising early to eat a bowl of pho, blast through pages of a good book, stretch, sip a strong Viet cafe, and write in my journal.  There are too many things to do and my nature is to attempt them all - a recurring feeling, similar to that of my first semester in college.  However I am learning to prefer slower, deliberately-paced exploration that builds in time for naps, massages, breathing, and yoga - activities that make the new experiences feel less hurried and equip my brain for appropriately dealing with inevitable hiccups.

Pad Thai and Green Curry food coma - Pai

While in Northern Thailand on our autumn break from school, I found the value in being a full blown tourist - on a guided tour.  From the elephant park to the street food tour, I found full value in being a team tourist - I fired off questions in between full group announcements and found myself at the heels of the guides when we were moving, awaiting another question.  Am I that annoying student who is too engaged?  Maybe.

Intimate with elephants

We rented a motorbike and slowly made our way to the hippy town of Pai after the most stunningly green and windy drive.  The 130 km drive took us nearly 6 hours after our stops to hilltop coffee shops, huge double waterfalls, and random streetside temples.

Scooter senorita

Moloi hiking with Manoi, the 34 year-old Elephant rescue

Moloi - stretching it out after a refreshing soak in the Mork Fa waterfalls

Following our week in Thailand, we were blessed with the opportunity to lead a week long school trip with each other and two awesome St Paul friends.  The main itinerary for the 5 days? Embark on a 3-day trek to Fansipan, deemed, "the roof on Indochina" at 3,140 m.  We had 27 students ranging from never-hiked-before and never-been-actually-dirty-before ninth grade Korean students to Vietnamese Seniors who considered this a standard vacay.

Our three Vietnamese guides, all of whom I grilled about life as a mountain guide in Vietnam after growing up a H'mong villager, led our not-so-motley crew up the mountain.  The hike started meandering through the Villages and their people - piglets, chickens, ankle deep mud puddles and a drizzle so thick it looked as if it would never stop (which it didn't) - welcomed us into the trip.  The students were HUGE troopers, but were exhausted arriving into our lunch site at 3:30pm, 7 hours after beginning the hike.  Immediately myself and the other teacher chaperones questioned the guides and their ability to estimate the needs and abilities of our group.  A boiled egg Bahn My lunch and a short afternoon, followed by two raging fires and 9 hours of sleep on a wooden floor brightened our spirits for day 2, although not for long

Putting on wet muddy shoes was soon forgotten by meandering through more green, mossy, narrow bamboo-lined mountain spines.  During our 5 days on the trip, there was only a 15-minute span when we could see more that a couple hundred meters across the valley.
Settling into camp 2 was an oxymoron - 8 people crammed in a 12 foot wide platform with soaked clothes, a fire only hot enough to dry the soaking wood, and students visibly getting sick from the conditions.  It was a challenge even for us teachers to hold it together.

Day 3.  I hoofed it to the summit 1.5 hours before the rest of the gang with our one student who rolled her ankle the day before and was being piggy backed by a constant alternation of six porters and myself.  The terrain those gentlemen can traverse in broken flipflops almost rivals that of the late and great Uli Steck.  In the end, we all made it to the top and safely back down in the 6.2 km cable car in under 20 minutes.  Our students impressed us.  They cried for home but didn't stop moving.  They didn't like the food much, but ate it anyway.  I could see a few of their bodies changing and their minds becoming more acute by the day compared to their academic selves.  Not often do these students get to physically challenge themselves like this and transfer this grit and perseverance to other parts of their lives.   It was all worth it.  

The eerie forest leading up to Fansipan with 27 partially stoked students

Weekend motorbike getaway to Tam Dao.

Thailandia

I sit at a classic 90's internet cafe in Old City Chiang Mai, Thailand.  The keyboard has enough grime to show decades of thoughts and passages, the PC's are missing side panels, and cobwebs occupy the corners.  I couldn't wait to return home to document the experience of the first two days of our first international break.   Tom Petty blasts in the headset.  RIP.   A week off, a new place to explore and people to meet.  Yes please.

We woke to sheets of rain rattling the sheet metal roofs next door.  Mol and I dusted off our residual tiredness from a long two months at school with a helmet-sized plate of cut mango, pineapple, kiwi, and papaya.  Fruit nourishes our bodies throughout the day.  As the rain subsided we began our foot powered trip to Wat Pra That Doi Suthep which rests in the mountains overlooking Chiang Mai to the west.  Our 4-speed granny bikes provided a nice alternative to walking and brought us to the base of the climb. Amidst screeching cicadas and a babbling brook, we relaxed at a mountainous temple which straddled the creek.  We rested there at the peaceful overlook and quietly maneuvered through the multilevel temple.  The structures looked to be hundreds of years old.  Moss covered the sides of every staircase.  Ferns laced the pillars leading to the massive golden Buddhas.   We continued on the the Doi Suthep via the steep trail to meet the throngs of tourists crawling all over the golden-plated temple with an amazing lookout over the city.  Never have I seen such a mix of active spiritual practictioners, casual observers, and amazed foreigners in the same place.  As someone who falls predominately into the latter categories, I am also is inspired by and increasingly exposed to the words and teachings of Buddhism.  Particularly, I am continually reflecting on how I can integrate mindfulness and gratitude into my daily life.

Today started with an hour long bus ride with a gang of tourists en-route to have a day with Elephants.  Before today I was unaware of the significance and history of Elephants in Thailand, which is deeply intertwined with culture, spirituality, and work.  Our guide, Chang Wood shared that the Elephants are not just for the Thai people, but for everyone in the world.  They offer locals health and wealth and tourists an experience - bot important. There exists a mutual feeling of belonging and existence between humans and the animals.  They are massive pampered pets with great financial, spiritual, and historical implications.  We fed them mashed bananas covered in rock salt, pineapple, and sugar cane cubes and walked with them to the top of a hill. We swam in a silty pool, scrubbing, hugging, tongue rubbing and massaging them.  The proximity and intimacy with them was certainly memorable and incredible (although don't touch mamas nipples, she will kick you).  What was more memorable and long-lasting however, were the interactions with the friendly Mexican family who also joined us, our tour guide, and the Mahouts.  We talked about travel experiences in other parts of Asia, mindfulness and being present with yourself before you can acknowledge your surroundings, and compared differences in American culture on either side of the boarder.  We practiced gestures with the Mahouts who spoke little English, and spoiled the badass 18-month-old Chinese/German toddler who enjoyed all 8 hours of the excursion with his solo traveling mother.  From someone who still dreams of the long isolated days in North American Mountains, I also find so much meaning and solace among millions of people with unique behaviors rooted in their unique experiences.  Peace and love.  

A picture post to follow soon.

Electrical Fire, Typhoon Doksuri

Tuesday 12/9/17.  I step into the hall of the third floor of B building to say goodbye to my Chemistry students and welcome the first batch of 9th graders for the day into my room.  The halls are well lit and the sun often casts a warm glow through the clounds, fog, or smog as it brightens the orange-cream painted concrete walls.  This time, the smog was inside.  It smells like burning plastic and the air was thick.  Did I leave on a hot plate in the lab? No.

What is that smell?  Mr Blackburn asks a student

I think there is a fire in the art room upstairs, the student casually replies.

Is it out? Is everything okay? 

I think so, says the student

It obviously wasn't a big enough concern for me to deal with at the moment, so I begin my class with my timid group of English Language Learners as I usually do - telling them how glad I am to see them, and how glad I am that they are here.  The two cute Korean girls in the front smile, and the wily Vietnamese boys puff their chests.  Those physical responses make my morning.

After 10 minutes, the fire alarm sounds.  Not having ever seen or heard of the evacuation plan, I tell my students to grab their backpacks, and calmly follow me out into the hall.  We proceed through the thickening smoke and into the field with the other 500 students and staff.  It's a sunny 85 degree morning.  People immediately start sweating.  Friends congregate, only a handful of them breaking the typical social barrier between the Koreans and Vietnamese.  An hour passes.  Students start playing games and doing push-up competitions, their patience being tested.  The Vietnamese fire department arrives with great awe from students and staff.  One truck, seven dudes,  zero supplies.  My question was, do these guys have training to decide if the building is safe for us enter?  Training to mitigate an electrical fire with smoke pouring through the ceiling tiles of a 4 story building?  That would be great.  It's almost lunchtime and our students are hot and hungry.  With little collective experience navigating this type of situation at our school, we as a staff made the call to resume school and disperse the learning that was to take place in B building for the remainder of the day.

The conversation to open my rambunctious 5th period class that afternoon started with mindful breaths and sharing gratitudes about the important things in life.  Their minds were struggling to make sense of the mornings chaos.  I shared what I think about when things are unplanned, potentially dangerous, and scary.  If the people I love and I are safe and healthy, then everything else is details - at least in that moment.  I shared with them how glad I was that everyone was safe and healthy.  I let them know its hard to learn with those need aren't met.

Friday 15/9/17.  All after school activities were cancelled in preparation for the impending rain and mild wind from the outskirts of Typhoon Doksuri that is now blasting Hanoi with decimeters of rain.  I had planned a 2 hour after school lab with my AP Chemistry students, but due to the change of plans, some of them had to take the bus home immediately.  The two who live within walking distance of school stayed with me in the lab for over an hour, discussing the culture of St. Paul, the implications of the academic pressure placed on many Korean students, and what it is like a part of an international education system.  The two students who stuck around are Seniors, working hard to get into top-tier American schools next year.  The soon-to-be-graduates are exceptional people and poster students.  They are open-minded, polite, inquisitive,  driven, interested, athletes, and freakishly intelligent.  Perfect SAT, soccer-team-captain, science-debate-champion type kids.  These off-the-clock conversations with students are worth their weight in gold.  They shared with me that Doksuri means Eagle in Korean.  We are the St. Paul Eagles.  Typhoon Doksuri was making the Eagles a stronger community.  Cool.

Friday 15/9/17.  I joined a small crew of friends at one of their lovely apartments for brews, games, conversation, laughs, and a 30th birthday celebration.  11pm quickly turned into 2am as we became lost in a debate about the philosophy of educational leadership.   It was worth every minute and it feels great to have a crew of coworkers who share passion for work and play.  I gave a friend a ride home through the deserted wet streets of Hanoi, only to realize I forgot the "late night" key to my apartment.  Exhausted, and not wanting to disturb my neighbors, I fell asleep on the landing of the marble staircase to the sound of the rain pelting the street and pond.   I woke at 4:30, miserable, hot, and thirsty.  I hopped on my motorbike and cruised through Hanoi, stopping at hotels, waking up receptionists asleep in their chairs, nearly begging for a room.

Full, one said.  The rain bring everyone in at 1 & 2am.  

F.  

No no.  Cannot accept money.  Need credit card, said another.

Double F.  

I searched 6 hotels and advertised homestays and finally found one at 5:30, just as the first light was hitting the city.   I woke at 11am grateful to be safe and healthy.   I could have avoided this with proper planning.  Instead I chose piss-poor performance.  There is always next time.

Gettin' Schooled

The number of times people told me the first year of teaching was difficult could have tripled and I still would have been floored by how much time it takes to plan and assess.  We wake at 6 to the iPhone's new bedtime feature alarm, which is quite nice by alarm standards.  Out the door within 15 minutes, cold oats, a banana and a scoop of PB in tow, and we are off on our 30 minute ride to school.  We usually beat the morning  traffic, but are frequently slowed by a torrential downpour.  You know how water  fills your goggles when you swim for long enough?  Well that's exactly how my contacts feel when I drive in the monsoons, so Mol usually takes the helm.  Before our final turn into  school, we pull over to this woman's tent on the side of the road.  She smiles at us as we hand her our tupperware.  She fills one with rice noddles and the other with little meatballs and a fermented, sweet, garlicy, fish sauce broth topped with a handful of fresh mint, all of which we pack away for a nice light lunch for 2 bucks.  Her other customers are workers from the nearby development who probably worked all night and sleepily watch us perform one of our morning routines.  The woman knows us now and is very happy to serve us.

My students are awesome.  As any demographic of a school will be, they are varied, unique individuals.  On the whole, however, they are polite, they listen, they want to learn and a few even ask for homework every night because they don't want to get rusty.  So I give it to them.  And I stay awake at night thinking about how I can differentiate for all learners and make the material accessible to my 11th graders who speak and read English at elementary levels.  I care about my profession deeply and I want to always practice being a better teacher.  The beauty is, there is no ceiling as a teacher - there is always room for growth.  The first month of school has been at full pace trying to patch together the years worth of curricula I seemed to have acquired over the last 14 months.  I am so grateful for the generosity of teachers as they share years of hard work in a single click of button.  This act of selfless kindness has prevented me from "getting too schooled" at St Paul.  What has been the biggest lesson for me has happened outside the classroom, and was more solidified over our soon-to-end 3 day weekend.

On Friday, we split directly from school to Mai Chau in the Hoa Binh Provence to the west of Ha Noi.  We scooted the 140km on our dodgy motorbike.  Our first night in the Hostel was restless due to the cacophony of roosters, dogs, and cows all night and a mattress that made cardboard feel soft.  This trip wasn't about roughin' it, so we upgraded for an extra buck for a private room with AC.  Worth every penny.  On Saturday we ran around the Lac village, which is has traditionally styled homes with open first floors for dinning and storefronts and a bamboo platform upstairs for sleeping.  That evening we dined liked royalty in the village among the other Vietnamese tourists who were celebrating Vietnam's National Day - their commemoration of independence from France in 1945.  Rice wine flowed through the small bamboo straws like the water through the terraced rice fields.  Sunday morning I was searching for a ustual pho breakfast before we roped up for a rock climb.  Molly was searching for some fruit, so I dined with a group of tourists from Hanoi.  We spoke each other's languages poorly, but enjoyed laughs figuring out simple things about each other.  After our pho was gone, they invited me over to the next table for tea.  The generosity of people inviting foreigners into their space is noteworthy.

This morning on our way home we stopped at one of the many storefront/homes on the highest pass between Mai Chau and Ha Noi. We put our fingers to our lips as we motioned to the family we were looking for food.  With massive grins they sat us down at their table, brought over steamed rice in a bamboo casing, and started to grill us pork. They offered corn, tea, and coffee during our 20 minutes there, and we returned the generosity by telling the young woman how pretty her daughter was.  These folks live with very little income and access to resources.  They live on the highway in a bamboo hut, cooking over a fire.   They were happy, and more importantly, they were generous with their space and their resources.  Another example: when we were pulling into Ha Noi, our bike finally died and the security guard's friend standing on the sidewalk spent 30 minutes diagnosing it with his personal spark plugs, tools, and time, before he communicated to me it was above his pay grade to fix.  These are just half the examples of generosity that I experienced today throughout this country.  For these folks, happiness and self worth is derived from giving.  Moreover, giving to someone who looks different and butchers their language.  Someone who has more opportunity and wealth, all of which could easily be a sources of resentment.  This is the schooling I'm talking about.

Pictures from the trip to come soon.

Final summer week

Mol loving the scenery of our post-beach moto cruise

Ho Chi Minh temple

Walking up to Ho Chi Minh Temple

We soaked up our last week of summer vacation.

Lounging in the falls

On Saturday we rose with itchy feet. Molly identified the nearest national park to Hanoi and within a half hour, we embarked on our first motorbike-fueled day trip. The hour and 45 minute "fresh" air tour up to Ba Vi National Park on our long term rental wasn't enough to cool us off. We walked along a jungle path and soaked our sweaty skin in the first possible siting of a waterfall, hiked the 1000+ steps to the Ho Chi Minh temple at the top of a mountain, and again soaked in an expansive waterpark. The water park had multiple layers of pools and falls, only to be topped by a more intricate web of tree and fern lined pools and falls just up the road. My principal spent the entirety of Sunday here with his family. After sharing stories and pictures, neither of us seemed to go to the same pool. The park is enormous but dense jungle obscures any view of pools that lay just beyond.

Mol on the bridge after one of many soaks

The more memorable trip was out to Cat Ba Island and Lan Ha Bay. It started with an early morning which included physically hitting our cab driver awake from the backseat at 6:30am in bottleneck traffic and thereby slashing his overpriced fare. Up all night, buddy? We narrowly made our transfer to the triple bus/single boat ride to the island. Once again, we cooled our bodies on the beach and ate cheep pho with an elevated view of a passage in the bay that eventually leads to the Philippines and lined with a few of the hundreds of jungle capped limestone atolls that make up the bay. We booked an all day sea kayaking and climbing trip for the following day through Asia Outdoors - a very well established and affordable tour guide company. Kayaking through the peninsulas, weaving around the floating villages from which archaeologists have found artifacts dating back 5,000 years - since the bay filled with water from the recession of the last ice age - we enjoyed the soothing strokes. Our Slovenian guide showed us a swimmable lagoon only approachable by kayak, as the entrance cave is only a meter off the water level at high tide, encased on all sides by black and white limestone cliffs, which, when not totally vertical, host a couple of trees until the angle eases and flora entirely covers the rock. After our homemade Vietnamese lunch on the tour boat, we set off on a basket boat for our deep water soloing afternoon. The leathered man with a massive smile captained the small boat, overflowing with 6 eager climbers from Italy, Australia, France, and North America. Our friendly Canadian guide communicated with our captain using a blend of gestures and symbols which route to drive the nose of the boat to. The captian was a pro, and had been delivering foreign climbers to remote rock faces on his boat for the last 11 years! The climber would step of the boat,and clamber up the overhung pockets, tufas, edges, stalactites, and cracks until they were ready to drop into the water. This activity is the perfect mix of freedom, relative safety, climbing, and cliff jumping. The rock is solid, the angle is powerful, the water refreshing, and the exposure freeing. I love it and am fortunate to partake in such a seemingly frivolous activity, but it lets me escape all other thoughts and become fully present, a difficult but necessary practice in other aspects of life. The pinnacle of the trip was reaching the golden ledge - a 20m ledge just big enough to turn around - taking a pull of the stashed rum, viewing a unique perspective of the islands, and stepping off the ledge, just climb back on the boat and do it all again until I was too pumped to continue. Molly was a little nervous about her abilities, but she crushed many routes! She and I debriefed our epic day and how well it separated us from the moving the logistics we have been so riddled with over the last 3 weeks (months). The night was capped with 5 hours of dinner, cheap Bias, and unplanned club dancing, all with a nice Dutch couple we met kayaking, Kevin and Ember.

Floating Villages in Lan Ha Bay

Run to the Beach on Cat Ba Island

Traveling with Molly makes the experience so rewarding and special. We are able to divide and conquer our chores, the passenger can be the necessary navigator on the moto, and we share mutual inspiration for meeting people, eat new foods, and explore the natural beauty of other parts of the world - on hands and feet! As we say to each other, we have high highs and low lows, and each are necessary. Being with her provides the opportunity for frequent reflection and mutual enjoyment of the moment. I can't imagine how Vietnam would look without her. She makes it beautiful! She also feeds the fire of inspiration traveling has re-sparked in me. Being here excites me to teach students, plan lessons, coach and play soccer, learn basic Vietnamese, run an asian ultra, climb limestone, pray in temples, meet cool people, practice yoga, and of course, swimming in refreshing water. The next many weeks will be prioritized by school, nesting in our new little hood and home, and building relationships with students and fellow staff. Peace and love.

Chi, Bia, and Sweat

Kawasaki

Our travels were without peril and our brief layover in Kawasaki was lovely.  As we exited the well-organized train system that took us from the Haneda Airport to our micro airbnb, we immediately noticed the generosity of the locals and the cleanliness of the streets.  Feng shui was apparent everywhere.  From the curbs that barely touched your ankles to the driveways that housed vehicles smaller than an All-American Harley blanketed by bonais, there was no trash and no disorder.  The spaces maximized functionality and human movement - there was no space to waste.  There was no music coming out of the homes, and people talked quietly.

Bicyclists and pedestrians ruled the narrow streets at a leisurely pace.  While walking around after a brief rest, we were noticeably lost looking for a place to eat.  A petite beautiful middle-aged woman who spoke great english approached us and asked with great (yet quiet) energy if we needed some help.  Yes, Please! We are hungry, not for our 10 pounds of trail mix and crackers we packed, but for  local food.  The woman ushered us to her sisters small bakery and asked her sister to hustle down the street to find an open restaurant.  She narrated the entire interaction for us in English and soon we were seating in a clean air-conditioned restaurant, with tenpura and cold soba noodles on the way.  This woman ordered for us and told us how much it cost.  I would eat battered and fried pumpkin every other day for millennia if I had too. Bicyclists and pedestrians ruled the streets and we never saw a single bike locked. 

The next morning we rose early and walked down the street The Kawasaki Daishi Temple.  I can't describe it's beauty and intricacies.  We honored the Yakuyoke Kobo Daishi in a brief prayer before we hustled back to the train > airport.  

Hanoi

We have lived in Hanoi for 40 hours.  We have walked nearly 20 miles around the city already, watching people and their interactions, eating pho, sushi, and seeking fluids for consumption or submersion by the half hour.  Our first impression - the people are noticeably respectful.  They nod as we pass and many say hello with a grin so big it would make my whole face soar to do so, and I try to back at them.  You know how you recognize things that people don't do, and therefore you later notice things they do or others do because of it's absence?  Well the Hanoi's don't holler at Molly, they don't beg, they push you to buy their goods, and they don't care that we absolutely butcher the simplest phrases of their language.  But they will hit you on their motorbikes if you don't move swiftly.

Yesterday in the middle of our morning cruise around the Ba Dihn District, we stopped over at a little restaurant by the a lake for a "quick" bite.  There was a couple of young gentlemen in plastic kiddy chairs with plates full of sautéed greens, salads, and fried tofu amidst their third or fourth Bia on ice all littered on the small plastic table.  We pointed to a picture of a meal we though looked well-rounded from the menu, finished our ration of water, and watched as a dozen more young men began to filter into their respective tables and chairs after parking their bikes, order a case of Saigon Bia, smoke their cigarettes, and chit chat about life.  This seems like a typical Sunday for many men.  We were here for nearly an hour before we went about 1/4km down the street for a rare non-alcoholic bev - iced juiced.  Here, be found our love for the Google translate app.  We have since found a few phrases we have documented on our necessary pocket notebook..  This will be our saving grace as we navigate the language and city we are growing to love.  The streets are busy, some boulevards have full canopies, and the parks are full of children playing, people centering their chi, and passing the shuttlecock back and forth.

Today we will look for an apartment and hit up the ethnology museum.  Stoked and sending love all around.  

Street lined with old bonsai's for ~1.5km

Life of a motorbike

LNT #1: Plan ahead and prepare

The week leading up to our departure from Oregon was a logistical and emotional high speed corkscrew roller coaster.  Molly and I are extremely fortunate to have such a warm blanket of support from our friends and family to help us move forward with this journey.  Thanks to Curt and Kaeko for watching Bruno and bringing him into your home.  We know he is happy with sister Rowsy, plenty of treats, and beautiful walks on the ranch.  Thank you to Chuck and Sandra for helping organize next summers wedding housing and venue logistics and helping to ease housing pressures by offering house shut-down services.  Thank you to our many friends - Storms, Benny, Tuck and Hope who traveled to say hello - for sharing great meals, beach vibes and fun twilight park chilling in the evenings leading up to our departure.  Time with you saved us from insanity and reminded us of how great our buds are!  Thank you to Josh and Becky for loaning us tools, vehicles, and feeding our stressed bodies as scrambled for something to go as planned.  Thank you to mama Nancy for being present, offering realistic options, and always stoked for our adventure.  

There are many things to remember from this move, but a theme is preparation.  I am always surprised by how applicable the 1st Leave No Trace guideline is, particularly outside a wilderness setting.  In the front country (and backcountry, I suppose) it may be interpreted as a Leave No Waste guideline - not wasting time, resources, and energy.  

Planning ahead is a tricky practice and is often at odds with presence; if you are always planning, how do you embrace the moment and be aware of your surroundings and yourself?  One aspect of the art of living lies in the balance of being just prepared enough to know how things might unfold given your circumstances and to make adjustments in the moment because the situation calls for something different than you originally planned.  Planning for the sake of sticking to that plan will rarely work, but planning allows you to be knowledgeable enough about a topic or a situation to know which way you can adjust your plan to meet the needs of those involved.  This balance has countless implications for our housing search, upcoming travels, and certainly in the classroom.  Planning is critical!  The LNT brainchildren sure know it! But I find solace in knowing over-planning does exist and it is often at the expense of the learning opportunities for the people involved - students.

As we currently fly at 600+mph over over pacific, we have planned to not head into downtown Tokyo for the infamous robot show… who knows if that plan will actually stick.

We are wide awake on the plane after a restless 3 hr slumber last night.    We are excited to settle into Hanoi in the coming two weeks without major obligations, and keep up the adventure.

Mentorship and Inspiration

Yesterday I skied with two buddies on Mt. Tumalo in the Oregon Cascades.  It was a striking blue bird day, with unimpeded
views of the snow covered Three Sisters.  This ski tour was a second reunion of the Blackburn, Schmidt, Cam spring mountain trio.  Last year around this time we boot packed our skis up to the snow line at the base of Three-Fingered Jack for an awesome descent down the East Ridge.  We have been blessed with loads of snow this year, so we played the safe approach game and went to Tumalo instead.

This picture is iconic for two of the features.  First, is one of my best buddies Benny is featured in the foreground.  The second, is the middle peak in the background - Middle Sister, or "Hope".  Back in 2009, Benny and I were between our Junior and Senior years of college, waiting for fires to burn the Oregon Forests so we could have summer work... an unusual quandary.  So we filled our packs with gear for a three day trip into the Three Sisters wilderness.  Our goal was to camp at a lake near the base of Hope the first night.  We hiked through the afternoon, found the lake, and established our camp under a scraggly weathered tree, ten feet from the edge of a 100 ft. cliff.  That night after dinner, we sat on the edge and watched the sunset slowly over the western Cascades, with Hope beaming in the alpenglow behind us.  It was an ethereal experience, and my first true backpacking overnight.

The next day, we rose with the sun as is peaked over the mountain, and began our trek to the summit.  Shortly after reaching treeline, we lost the trail and scrambled our way over large boulders to the summit scree-covered summit ridge.  The summit climb took longer because we lost the trail, and we were tired and hungry on top.  Benny had forgotten his snacks back at camp and I traded a bit of our meager rations for a cigarette on the summit - wow, how times have changed!  As we descended the mountain, hungry and parched, we glissaded down the western Renfrew glacier for over a mile.  The glacier was steep enough, and out boots just long enough to act as skis.  Luckily, the August snowpack hadn't revealed any crevasses.  I don't think I knew about crevasses at that point anyway.

We made it safely back to camp that night and back to Eugene the next day.  Looking back on this trip - thanks to Benny for being the brains and motivator of the idea - it was an extremely formative experience. People are the motivators and initiators of great ideas.  Mountains, lakes, cliffs, and alpine wildlife bring us back to a feeling of security, centeredness and humility, but people are the motivators, and mentorship is the relationship that buds growth and viability in the backcountry.  Many of us have played to role of mentoring and teaching in the outdoors, and all of us have played the role of learner.  Friendships grow stronger, and learning about ourselves and our purpose on Earth become more visible, when the mentor/mentee relationship is dynamic between friends, and over time.  My friendship with Benny has taken this path over the last ten years as our lives always reconnect.  We have taught each other the benefit of mutual inspiration, and I owe it to him the importance this interdependence has played in the trajectory of my life since that trip.