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TRAVEL NOTES FROM MY
YEAR 2000 ROUND-THE-WORLD SOLO JOURNEY

(graphic on the travel page are photos from this trip)I'M OFF!! November 12, 2000
Looks like I'm pretty close to being set to go (tommorrow morningearly)...and my heart is thumpin'. Mighty exciting for me. We had afoot-stompin-Salsa in the kitchen-Elvis healings in the living room-Tesoro shots going down kinda night last night. Gave me a chance to get decked in my holiday garb, cause I'll be engaged in
celebrations of a different kind over "the holidays". Good fun, now
I'm off into the wild blue...
I'll happily accept any well-wishes, prayers, blessings,
good-lucks--figure I can use it all.
My plan is to return Jan 10. Until then, I can be reached at:
ziajourney@yahoo.com. Send me a note!
Happy Holidays! and much LOVE!!! to you all, Zia
FIJI II
Greetings from "down-under",
The first place I had a significant connection with the people and the land was the village of Lavena in Fiji. Lavena is at the end of the road on the island of Taveuni, which is a one-hour flight from the international airport at Nadi.
Even though Lavena is a tiny village, there is a visitor's center with a guesthouse attached, gift of the New Zealand government. It hosts visitors who come to do the Lavena Coastal walk. It is an attempt at eco-tourism, a way to bring some income into the area without draining the natural resources and eroding the beauty of the place--which is enormous.
I was drawn to these things, but more so, to the village life. My friend, Donna Duckman had visited here and I now held the letter she wrote to "Annaseina", resident of Lavena. Hopefully, the letter would serve as my passport to a deeper level of the local culture.
The visitor-center host explained that there was no Annasana, but she would go check with the three Anna's from the village.
In about 10 minutes, Annaseina approached me, clapping her hands, saying "Donna! Donna! you are friends with Donna from America?" She clearly treasured the letter and Donna's photo.
She showed me around the village, and introduced me to her husband, who was repairing the floor of their house. He had lifted up the worn woven-grass matting and was placing fresh sand over the floor boards, then putting down a layer of new linoleum, then more woven grass mats.
Because the floor was a mess, I stayed in the guesthouse that night. It was raining hard and after dark when three young princes came knocking on my door, bearing lamp-light, to bring me to dinner.
We ate sitting on the floor, with the serving dishes spread on a cloth tablecloth. This is very handy, because when you are done eating, you can just sort of roll over, and then the kava drinking begins, then you roll over again, and go to sleep.
The Fijian village life is very relaxed. Breakfast around 10, followed by lots of talking and laughing. The noon-day meal is also a social affair. Then, dinner.
At any time of day, you can see people in their homes, spread out on the floor, talking, laughing, or sleeping.
I couldn't help but make continual comparisons to Africa. These people actually looked very much like the Fang people that I lived with in Africa. But the ambitious regimen that African women keep ( men actually have ALOT of R & R time), was only one difference. The general vibe of these people was radically different.
The word that keeps coming to mind was gracious. They spoke very eloquent English, in soft subtle tones. They responded to nuances of body language and intonation. Very sensitive. Mostly, they were enormously accomodating and generous.
I felt enormously insensitive and stupid that I had gotten myself to the village without bringing any food. Just wasn't thinking. I knew I wouldn't be able to buy anything there. Luckily, conversation brought out that I do movement therapy and massage. They were very interested. (Donna had helped open that door too, with her energy work.) Anna had helped organize a health seminar the following day and asked if I would like to contribute...of course! And, she and her husband gratefully accepted a session of hands-on work after dinner that first night.
Anna's husband, Fillipe recognized right away that the Aston myo-work I was doing was not conventional massage. He said, you have to stay for at least one month so you can teach us this! We all laughed, but he seriously observed every session I did while there, asked questions, and got me to show him what I could.
The next day, Carolina, a young 22 year old woman accompanied me on the Lavena Coastal Walk to the waterfall. The trail was really wet and slippery, and she was there at every possible opportunity with a steadying hand. Gracious.
The trail was stunning. Outrageous jungle greenery. Huge bulbous trees with immense span of branches. A fun hanging bridge. Headland after headland with long expanses of untouched wilderness beaches.
A steep climb up a river, shoes off and wading through the river-bed for the last 100 yards, and ...OMIGOD, one of the most beautiful sights... two shooting falls crossed each other into a black lava gorge with deep deep green foliage hugging the black. The last 50 yards forced a swim. At times, eddies allowed me to make headway, at times the current requiring gripping the occasional hand-holds in the black lava rock, inching my way up. It was fabulous.
When we got back to the village, I was a tired puppy, but the little princes showed up at my door again, saying they were ready for me at the health seminar. Okie dok. Hmmm, what might work? What could I share in this setting, this time-frame. For those of you familiar with Aston-Patterning parlance, I introduced "floor-loosening", upper body sequencing.
This is a self-administered self-massage technique. You don't massage yourself with your hands, I explained, but with the spontaneous movement of your hands, and the weight of your arms, suspended in vertical balance as you lie on your back. If you can imagine this at all, you'll see that it is a very silly-looking thing, yet amazingly effective. When I demonstrated, a murmur went through the crowd in Fijian. I asked Filipe what they were saying: we can all see that you are "smart to dance". "UH?" "Everyone agrees you must be a good dancer."
I was flattered.
Before long, everyone was rolling around on the floor, rolling into each other, full of giggles, yet seriously applying themselves, trying to figure this thing out. I had a ball. When I got them up to walk as a "post-test" to feel the effect, they said "Oh yes, this is very good", and they actually broke into an applause. So fun.
That night and the next day, they brought me those in weary, aching bodies. An old man who had apparently had a mild stroke, a young woman whose shoulder was partially frozen since she fractured it at age 12, an old woman with chronic back pain, an obese woman with extreme knee pain.
A young girl, perhaps age 10, with heart problems went into rapid heart beat upon my touch. I thought she might be reacting to me, stranger that I was. I cued Filipe to administer the breath-work I was doing, which helped her use the essential quality of the exhale--letting go--to gain some control over her racing autonomic functions. She responded the same way to his touch.
She was extremely shy. Eye contact seemed difficult for her. I asked her if she felt better if she was the one touching herself. She gave me a quick certain nod out of the corner of her eye.
So we arranged pillows under her arms to make it easy for her to administer the breath touches herself. Her heart calmed right down. I explained what was happening to her mother. She seemed very open to the information, and glad to understand. I suggested that she offer presence and companionship to her daughter at these times, but to let her be in charge and to offer touch when she invited it.
Filipe and I stayed with it until she was successful in overcoming the heart palpitations three times, then I asked her if she wanted me to do some hands-on work to release the intense bracing in her rib-cage. Now, she was able to tolerate my touch, and released a lot of tension with only brief body-work. When she stood and walked, her whole body had a very different flow to it.
Filipe said again, you have to stay for at least one month. We will build you a buree(bamboo hut), and feed you well!....Hey sounds pretty good to me... just got to get me a solar panel for my laptop, and I'll be back...hopefully...
The richness of the village life!!
The bus couldn't get through to Lavena that afternoon because the rivers were so swollen with rain. I shared the cost of a 4x4 "taxi" with some others, and the water came right up into the wheel-wells. I almost felt it loose traction a couple of times, as the rain beat down on the plastic table cloth canopy above us.
On to New Zealand...
NEW ZEALAND
I jumped on a ferry to Waiheki Island in a gale-force wind and record-low temperatures my first day. Got hooked into the NZ breed of accommodations called "backpackers" at Hereuka Lodge--a slightly funky but very convenient and well set-up hostel system.
Now I'm out on the Cormandel Peninsula. Within 10 minutes of my arrival here at the Tairua Backpackers Lodge, I popped into a kayak at the estuary right in back of the lodge. There are square miles to explore in this inlet--most of it not more than 2 feet deep--amazingly accessible and safe.
Today I took the "free beach car" down to "Hot Water Beach", where you can dig a hot tub in the sand. Thermal springs wash through the sand here, creating a scene! ... all kinds of people from all over the world dig in the sand like kids with their shovels and buckets, then lazing around in these little sand pools. Germans, Japanese, Latin Americans, Canadians, Kiwis, all with just a little pile of sand between them. The result: a beautiful picture of how it should be.
So, all of it...the kayak, the "free beach car", windsurfers if you like, are part of the price of a room. For me, a $20. single ($10.US).
In general, I found the "Kiwi's" more than helpful, courteous and friendly. I think the thing that amazes me the most about this place, though, are the plants. It's like a different planet. Way out stuff like I've never seen before.
Tomorrow I go south to Rotorua, home of volcanoes, lots of thermal springs and geysers, and seat of Maori culture.
...more to come..Zia
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The Maori are thought of as some of the best-adapted of indigenous people. They were not defeated in battle against the Europeans, but managed to negotiate a settlement with relatively little trauma, and are proud of this. Early on, they perceived that tourism could be a support to them, and there are several touristic enterprises that have done very well.
I would love to have more contact with them someday.
Perhaps my favorite in NZ was the "blackwater-rafting" , (meaning, the water is dark because you are in a cave, and the "rafting" is paddling yourself down chilly underground passages in an
innertube. ) The adventure started with a 100 foot free rappel into a narrow vertical tunnel into the earth. A cavern opens into a much larger cavern with a ledge that drops off into the darkness. Here, there is a "zip-line" set up like the one we saw on the Nu River in SW China; where, everyone, grandmothers alike, cross the river to their fields by hooking their hand-woven hemp belts onto the pulley, pushing off, and gravity swiftly "zips" them on a cable about a 100 yards across the river.
So, I had seen this before, which I think made it even scarier. I was nominated to be first. I edged my way to the take-off point. The guide was watching me carefully, and the minute I pushed off, he turned out his head-lamp, doubling the drama as I leapt into total blackness. They rated my scream across the cavern a 9.4.
Next, leap off another ledge into icy water onto an inner-tube, then we navigate up the channel until it becomes too narrow to pass.
Heavy-duty wet-suits are keeping us warm, and at this point we hook our boots into the next person's armpits to create a chain, and our guide gives us a ride in the dark back down the channel. The treat is the cosmic view overhead. Phosphorecent "glow-worms" create a beautiful "sky-scape" on the topography of the cave ceiling.
To connect with the vertical shaft that will carry us out to daylight, our guide treated us to something extra special -- a passage-way that had us crawling through an underground stream with our heads just out of the water, and the ceiling of the tunnel just a foot or two above that. EEgads! If I had known! Then, climbing up two water falls where the water is really forcefully arguing with any upward progress. And, finally, we emerged into the daylight, just a couple hundred yards from where we began, five hours later.
SYDNEY
My buddy Rhys who studied at Naropa a couple of years ago met me at the Sydney airport. Was it ever good to see a familiar face! Rhys has a lovely condo just a short walk away from the ferry, which crosses under the Harbour Bridge, then passes the Opera House on it's way to the city center. And what a brilliantly aesthetic city it is. We walked our legs off that first day in the city. Next day, I saw the city from a boat tour, and took in the botanical gardens, which are immense and intensely diverse, and right down town. Then, up the coast for a taste of the seemingly endless string of beaches both North and South of Sydney.
Rhys and I just hung out together a fair bit that week, catching up. Also, got a chance to pull out my little black dress for a night out at one of the snazzy harbour restaurants. Very cool.
Unfortunately, didn't get any contact with Aboriginal culture, but did get to rest up for the next stop...on to Bali.BALI
So, Bali...WOWOWOWOWOWOW!!!!!!!!!! I am totally
indisputably in LOVE! So many have raved, but not
enough. Incredibly eye-popping beauty. And just as impressive, is the peoples' enormous reverence for beauty. Apparently, this place
is a testament to what happens when the people really
serve beauty and treat the land like the art form that it is. And, the people demonstrate immense heartfulness.
And then, there is also that the US $ goes very, very
far here right now.
Bali was relatively untouched by the political waves that rocked parts of Indonesia last year, but it was hard on the people in terms of inflation. Now, things are settling, although tourism is still relatively low. Sometimes means
are very meagre, but unemployment almost nonexistent,
which I attribute to the seemingly endless wellspring
of creativity here. The arts! Everywhere! Nearly every Balinese person practices some art form. And the arts are so
reflective of nature. Just beautiful.
More later. XOXO ZIA OXOX
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BALI (CONTINUED)
My first days in Bali were spent in Ubud, center for the arts. It is no longer a quaint little town, but the arts still thrive. Each day I would become enthralled with something new. The fabric! The wood carving! The painting! And of course, the sacred dance-theater is done-up fine here in the city. One can see a dance, nearly all of them enactments of stories from Hindu mythology, often with a Balinese pagan-twist, most any night of the week. The best dancers seek to perform in the city and the costumes are colorfully regal--almost beyond belief. I got to see the Rama and Sita story, part of the Ramajana, and the Monkey Dance known as the Kecak.
I spent the first few days with my nephew's friend, Made and his family. They showed me the big temples in Central Bali. Then took me to East Bali where I met up with friends of Robert and Judith Gass, Emerald Starr and Daniel Sussot--a gay couple that shared a piece of their beautiful lifestyle with me for a week.
Emerald and Daniel live at the Water Palace at Tirtagangga. This place is one of ravishing beauty. It is hard to describe, but here goes: There are roughly two and a half acres of pool, water fountains, lilly ponds and water canals for washing and bathing. Tirtagaanga is located at the base of Mt. Agung, considered to be Bali's most sacred mountain. The water flows off the mountain, into through pool through the mouth of a giant gargole. This is considered to be the most sacred pool. It is the gargoyle's job to contain any mischevious energy, so the rest of the pool can maintain the utmost purity. So, you can be massaged by the
pounding water flowing from the gargoyle's mouth, and drink the holy water...and swim
and swim...the pools are immense.
The full moon that just passed was the anniversay
festival of the temple at the Water Palace.
Therefore, the local people had been decorating the
temple for about a week. Long banners of colorful cloth, pinwheel-origami made from leaves, flowers and flowers and flowers. Then, the processions ofwomen clad in brilliant colors of silk carrying their
offerings of fruit and flowers towering on their
heads. And the gongs and cymbals clanging and banging their beckoning to the gods. The dancers--little ones dressed like
fairy princesses, and the fully blossomed ones dressed
to please the gods. On and on, the surprises come.
The preparations draw out over most of the day. So,
this was a good time for me to do waterwork sessions with
Daniel and Emerald in the pools. This water
massage-dance was something the local people had no
category for, and clearly, the locals were set
a-wondering...did your wife finally arrive?...we had a
divine afternoon keeping them wondering, and scooting back and
forth between the (quite) cool pools and the marble hot
tub in their villa. Their place sits right above the
pools, and beside the temple...all this going on at
once. Plus the skies intermitently gushed rain and on
one of these downpours (which caught us in the hot
water, thankfully), we were roused to a hearty
rendition of "Oh Holy Night" except with lyrics
improvised to sing the praises of rain. Great fun.
That night, the local young men entertained the
tourists at a yenjeck (sp?). So many of the local guys
had invited me, and new Austrian friend, Margit to go
that we really had to show. They dressed up in their
wonderful bright headbands and sarongs. They sang and
danced, and chose people from the audience to
dance...so we all got to dance, and there was no way
to refuse the local palm wine. When Daniel was pulled
up to dance, he literally had everyone on the floor
holding their sides laughing with his
opera/showgirl antics.
After, groups were scattered around the water palace
singing, and talking. Daniel and I wandered from one
group to another. There was one guitar that was tuned
to my new little Balinese flute made by my new friend
Ketut. Nice.
Late, late into the night, Daniel and I ended
up in the little paddleboats, crying in each others'
arms under the moonlight. My tears, of course, for my
friend Dee, who we lost to cancer just a week before I
left. And he, for his first love, who he lost to
AIDS. Such a precious moment, (well, actually hours)
to share so deeply.
As luck would have it, I also got to take in a village
Rhanda dance. The person that does massage for E & D
and I got to be friends--Made Agung. They encouraged
me to exchange as much as possible with him and leave
my impression on him--which was great. I also learned
from the traditional Balinese massage that was passed
from his father.
So, we went traipsing through the rice fields and up!
the mountain to a nearby village in the moonlight.
The dance didn't start till around midnight. All the
children in the surrounding villages were there and
quite up and alert.
Some of you have undoubtedly seen pictures of the
Rhanda character--with her thousand long unsightly
breasts which she threatens to bonk the children on the head
with, and her terrifying mask. In this dance, she is pitted against
the Barong, a Protector figure that has the appearance
of something like a cross between an elephant, a
dragon, and a string mop.
Whenever Barong and Rhanda duel, it is a draw. Thus,
upholding the Balinese belief in the incessant dance of the
dualities. As well, there is a complex plot of
intrigue, cunning, curses and power.
I was amazed by the resources the villagers squeeze
out of meagre pockets to put on productions such as
this. And so glad to get to see the village level of
devotion to playing and replaying these age-old
spiritual themes. In Ubud, I had seen several dances
that were clearly for the tourists--so it was great to
see the contrary, where there was only one other
person from Western culture present.
Other highlights: Long conversations and walks in the
rice fields with my Austrian friend, Margit. She was
in Bali for her third visit with her Balinese
boyfriend, and had decided that she needed to convey
to him that he was not her future. However, she had
not yet found the words.
This situation merited much discussion between us.
She shared with me many stories which stemmed from
mystical experiences she had via her epilepsy, and insights she had gained into her situation via the Bert Helinger work.
Unexpected therapy "shop-talk".
On to Thailand!!
And I wish you Happy Holidays! And much LOVE!!!
XOXOZIAOXOXHallo!
I'm here waiting for the ferry to take me back to Ko
Samui, a small island in S. Thailand, from the smaller
island, Ko Phan-ngang, where I spent the last week.
The time here has been very restful...so much so that
I nearly melted into the sand. Basically, I shifted
from hammock to hammock. With an occassional swim
across the bay, stretching, and beautiful Thai food
thrown in. I learned that one can eat, sleep, drink,
and dance in a hammock. A rather mellow place, made
even more so by rainy weather.
I felt my mission was accomplished (although,
certainly a few more weeks would have been nice to
have to while-away) when I reached the point when I
could turn to my hammock-mates in the hammock-bar and
question: do you know what day it is? And without the
slightest indication that this might be an odd
question, they would reply. And I would respond, are
you sure, or is this just a guess? I felt pretty
accomplished to arrive at this state within a week.
So good, to just slow right down.
Now...I'm on my way to Istanbul, where the pace will
pick up.ISTANBUL
(Written on an Arabic keyboard, where, the key under my finger is not what showed on my monitor, or what was sent out...sorry.)
hello fry´ends!
More story´es:
I arry´ved y´n Istanbul on Chry´stmas eve after a very
long fly´ght. Got y´nto a cute ly´ttle hotel ry´ght by
the Sultanahmet,why´ch has most of the cy´ty's treasures
wy´thy´n a 15 my´nute walk. Crashed for awhy´le, then got
up as y´t was starty´ng to get dark, thy´nky´ng I,d
better get out and get my beary´ngs why´le I sty´ll had
some ly´ght.
I had just found an area wy´th some cafes and a bry´ght
face appeared from a shop below the street. Oh, dy´d
you just arry´ve? where are you from?
Yes, I reply´ed, and I bet you want to sell me a
carpet!
Let me show you what is authentic Turky´sh hospy´taly´ty, we are
just about to break our Ramadam fast,would you joy´n
us? We would really enjoy your company. Please come.
They fed me a fabulous meal. Quite dely´cy´ous. There
were 3 women from Australia also present, otherwy´se,
all men.
When I asked about this,they explay´ned that only the
men of the famy´ly worked the carpet shop. They all
lived in another ney´ghborhood--where the women were
breaky´ng fast together.
It turned out that I ate dy´nner with them for the next
three eveny´ngs. Azzy´z, the one who y´nvy´ted me, and I
became fry´ends and went out to hear music in the cy´ty.
He may come to vy´sy´t me--He hopes to vy´sy´t hy´s cousy´n
y´n Atlanta next month. And yes, he did sell me a
carpet, of course.
I am such a fanatic about traveling light it is a
miracle that he talked me into carrying a carpet with
me. But once home, they were a delight.
__________________________
My last two stops were short ones, as I was travel weary, and Europe in late December was dreary after being in SouthEast Asia.
I had just a few days in Florence, and in Barcelona. Architecture and art being the main attraction in both. In Barcelona, I spent most of my time trying to see as much of Antonio Gaudi's work as possible, and in Florence, amongst all the historical splendor, the work that moved me the most was that of a contemporary artist/architect that was a student of Gaudi.
I stopped in England only at Heathrow. By then, the old joke "you know you're having an adventure when you really want to go home" had come true. Boulder looked like Home Sweet Home.