It is unbearably hot and noisy in Ubud.  We trudge the uneven pavements, impeded by parked cars.  This charming cultural center of Bali, was not built for traffic.  I could tell my husband Chris has had enough, as we plop down on shady steps of the Arma Museum Gardens.  Finally we are rid of the pesky unsolicited Balinese guide, who insisted we should hire his friend as driver tomorrow, and that his father was responsible for the one painting I was really enthusiastic about.  Finally a cool breeze kisses our sweaty brows. No more fumes and noise.  Little stream, garden, statues, modern art.

“All I want is a day off” grumbles my husband.

“Hmm” I wonder to myself, “what do you call this then?”

I love all of our experiences in Ubud: rice fields, interesting shops, temples with offerings, tropical fruit and jaffle for breakfast at our guesthouse, the Yoga Barn situated right on a rice field, coffee and FaceBooking from our laptop at Pundi-Pundi, and exploring the gorgeous silks at The Silk Barn.  Admittedly walking the crowded streets, getting from placed to place is very uncomfortable.

“What will cheer him up?” I ponder.

He gives me a clue:

“Did you notice those scooters are four-stroke? Much less noise and pollution than the old 2-stroke!”

No, I had not noticed.

“We should get one to get around”, he says.

My stomach contracts.  Now I feel some fear. I remember riding a motor bike in Bali 35 years ago.  A small slip, exhaust burn on my inner leg, which became infected with a tropical bug which took months to heal.  I still have a faint scar!

“Yes, darling, let’s research that. Tomorrow.”  I bite my bottom lip and agonize at the thought of hanging on the back of a tiny two-wheeler. Balinese are typically much smaller than the two of us.

We leave the serene museum grounds and almost get killed crossing the road.  Traffic comes from everywhere, especially at the most inauspicious place we choose.

Right next door to Buddha’s and Silks, my destination, we see the fateful signs “Money Change and Bike Rental”.  I escape into the opulent silk store avoiding the glint in my husband’s eye.

I return without any purchases.

“Would you be comfortable on the back of one of these with me?” my very considerate husband asks. He is sitting astride the tiny bike, his long legs in straddle pose.

Now what, tell the truth or fake it?   30 years of marriage feels at stake.  That is why we are in Bali in the first place, to celebrate our longevity as a couple. I look away and watch a foreigner teeter on her bicycle on the other side of the crazily busy road.  There is a screaming in my head.

My voice tentative and small:  “Sure . That might be fun darling, let’s try it”

His face lights up. Soon we have negotiated an excellent deal $5 a day .  A quick lesson on where everything is, simply handing over the passport number, no need for license, no need for helmets, I take a photo of my very tall husband on a very small scooter.  Hilarious.

I hang on,on the back.  Soon we are in the river of traffic, dodging, yielding and flowing.

Oh, this is fun. We are both happy!   He is an excellent driver. I am comfortable enough to pull out the little camera and capture the terrain as it races by. The friendly Balinese are smiling at us.

“Darling, I whisper in his ear “It is not only because we are so big – we are also so old!”

It is a giant leap: from Fear to Fun.

Yoga Shakti in Bali

Click the link above to view what happened:

In Ubud Bali, at the Elephant Cave Temple, is a Chinese man with his pet python.

Always one to try something new and kinda scary, I took the python from him.

Chris filmed in in slo-mo, serendipitously.

The four us, serpent, Chinaman, me and camera, form a trancey dance.

Thanks also to the lovely soundtrack: Close to Silence by Thomas Otto.

I love his exalted  contralto!

In terms of lifestyle, old age  here in the Himalayas has very little resemblance to that stage of life  in the west, particularly California.  In the Himalayas it is widely believed that this time is to be spent in spiritual activity, to gain merit and to direct every thought, word and deed towards a better lifetime next time around.

Our yoga group visited the Queens’ Memorial Chorten, a major landmark in the main city of Bhutan, Thimphu.

I joined a group of crones sitting in a circle chanting and swirling prayer wheels. and they delighted in teaching me the local version of the well-know Buddhist mantra Om Mani Padme Hum.  They corrected my pronunciation with peals of toothless laughter. I couldn’t noticed an empty  bottle of the other spirit kind, tucked away under my new sister’s skirt. These women are in their final years, know it, and are doing what they believe is right: spending time gathering merit. One of the ladies urgently tries to tell me something.  “What is she saying?” I ask Rinchen, our guide.  “She says, ‘next lifetime we will surely meet again as friends.”  I am so touched, and wonder will our next life will  be here in Bhutan or at Retirement Village in the States.Check out the movie! Maggie learns the Mantra in Bhutan

All the elements are here: the confluence of two rivers, wind propelled prayers, a beautiful earth  and sunlight.

In Bhutan, we are 12 yogis leaning out the bus window, to capture this lovely spot, this beautiful moment.  The  chortens are from Tibet, Nepal and Bhutan, a confluence of different shapes, different yet neighboring cultures, offering the same reminder of the sacred that pervades everything.

Is not every moment a great confluence of past, present and future expanding into an eternal Now?

A muddy river runs through it, the lush green valley of the Elephant Nature Park.  This sanctuary for rescued and retired elllies lies one hour north of Chain Mai.  It has been our home for two spectacular days.  From luxurious space pod accommodations of the Bangkok Novotel, to a simple hut in the jungle, surrounded by freely roaming ellies. And a lot of mud. Who knew that getting into the swift-flowing monsoon fed river with Mae Perm, my beloved grand old ellie lady, and hurling  bucket-loads of water over her thick grey skin, could feel ecstatic!  I, with hundreds of other people, have flown half-way around the world to do this.

At work  in our jungle office.

Chris is putting hundreds of photos and video clips onto the hard drive, so we can take even more!  Loads to follow.

It is probably a past life thing, but Chris and I both love temples, especially Thai temples with their out of this world extravaganza of golden architecture.  And we love markets, of which there are plenty in this town.  Now when a market happens in a temple, that is ultimate.

Throngs of people bustling through stalls selling food, weavings, jewelry, clothes, housewares and endless kitch.  Musicians take there place in the middle of the pathways, so a cacophony of sounds fill the air.  We love this harmonious chaos.

I had fun with these kids and send you a free hug too!

Sunday market Chaing Mai

And now,  we are off to the jungle!

That our culture acts as our operating system is so apparent when one meets a different culture. The Thai have a very different operating system, and I am hungrily absorbing it. Smiles, gentleness and an easy going attitude to the nitty gritty of life.  “Can do” says our cab driver.

Our first therapy is foot massage.  While there are massages to be had everywhere in Chiang Mai, on the streets, in the markets and in temples, we fall into this lovely little shop.  Ah, to let go  the weariness of travel and  accumulated toxins of a too- busy life.

We stumble into the next-door temple, a magnificent golden pagoda right on the busy noisy road. Is that really  Donal Duck  in the garden?

The sound of chanting draws us in, and for our second therapy, we join the monks at evening prayers.  Call and response, but mostly we are mutely in awe.

The third therapy is a good meal.  Eat where the locals go.  Ha, that turned out to be a 45 minute wait for Shabu shabu.  Well worth it, for a couple of hours selecting  from 28 different dishes circling in front us, to cook in our own personal cauldron of spicy soup.  Greens, seafood and a variety of tofu and meat, there was something for everyone.  The side bar of sushi and tempura ensured that we slide off the barstool every now and then.

Santosha = contentment = easy!

I have the perfect window seat on Cathy Pacific flying out of Lax on a perfect Thursday.   Marina del Rey, Point Dume, Santa Monica mountains and soon, Big Sur laze below.  Truly it is a blue planet. I can even see the distant Sierras where we were in Yosemite, just two weeks ago.  Oh, and look, there is Point Lobos one of the most beautiful nature parks in the world. California, you are gorgeous!   We cruise silently through the blue sky over the aptly named Pacific.   An auspicious and luxurious beginning of the journey.   All the  exertion of planning and obsessing over details, are, thankfully, over.
After lunch and several movies, I slide open my window shutter, and see it is still bright daylight out there. 10 hours into the flight and it is still blue.  Folks inside the cabin however are now showing signs of fatigue and increasing misery at the cramped seating and spill of newspapers and food wrappings.  Crying children, and grumpy adults avoid eye contact in the bathroom lines.   I too have shifted from exhilaration to a desire to disappear into sleep. On the computer screen that tracks our flight, I see that the darkness of night is following us. Another 4 hours to  Hong Kong.

Hong Kong airport, the emporium of designer label shopping, goes on for ever and ever and ever, Halleluja! Who cares about shopping? All we want is sleep……

The Novatel Hotel in Bangkok airport is  a luxurious space station.  Stepping into the palatial foyer is like stepping into  a clear lake, reflecting lights and trees and high tech columns. It is after midnight when we check in.  It could be any time of day in this round-the-clock  landing pad.   Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and the exhausting business  of retrieving bags from the carousel, we are relieved to land in our futuristic pod with a spacious bathroom, huge heavenly  bed and best of all absolutely dark and quiet. How is it we don’t even hear any planes, and we are still virtually at the airport?   A wonderful end to a day that seemed it would never end.

I wake this morning and peek down from our pod window to the lake-foyer- below.  Hey, where did Friday go? It is Saturday and time to leave this very expensive short term refuge and head to Chaing Mai, Northern Thailand.