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.