Sri Lanka: Bucket List Trip

Well here we are, with today being our last day in Sri Lanka before we leave for the Maldives later! I have been meaning to blog since the beginning of our trip, but jet lag, being on vacation, laziness, sickness and etc. have just gotten in the way.

Before I get started, I want to thank everyone for the incredible outpouring of support and love after my last blog post in December from Kenya; so many different people reached out, those I know well and those I really do not know well at all. All of the calls, texts, Facebook messages and emails, thank you. It was completely unexpected, and very much appreciated. I was a little nervous after posting it about how honest and vulnerable I had been, but my concern seemed to be unwarranted. It seems to be a subject we should all talk about more, but don’t really have the words.

Back to Sri Lanka! A lot of people have asked why Sri Lanka? I have wanted to come here since I started traveling, and it has also been on Cris’ list. It is one of the most biologically diverse places on Earth (considering size), amazing beaches, beautiful countryside, why not Sri Lanka?

As I said earlier, jet lag has been a huge reason behind the lack of blogging. Jet lag has hit me harder on this trip than maybe any other trip I have ever been on. The time swing is huge (13.5 hours ahead), and each night for the first week I was just exhausted after our wonderful days experiencing Sri Lanka. If you haven’t ever experienced jet lag/time differences in the double digits, let me tell you: it is rough and sucks. The first night in Dubai I was up at 3:00 AM, and the following three days between 2:30 and 4:00 AM! Not fun to say the least when your body is wide awake at 2:30 in the morning. I seem to be getting over the most of it now, of course just in time to leave ; )

I was able to upgrade Cris and I to business on Emirates on our way here, just days before departure. I was VERY excited when I learned that I was able to do this! I have always wanted to sleep in a “pod” as I call them. Just the idea of laying flat while hurling myself across the sky has always seemed very appealing while crammed back in coach, and waking up with a kink in my neck from falling asleep in a strange, contorted position. I have always envied walking through the business section on the plane on long haul international flights, seeing everyone sipping their champagne and eating their damn warm nuts as we board, and looking rested and refreshed upon departure, while I look a hobo. I want nuts and champagne and to be a more well rested hobo, too! But more than that, I wanted that damn seat that folds into a bed.

We flew on Cris’ birthday, so it was the perfect excuse to upgrade us! We started our journey taking advantage of the Emirates lounge in Seattle. Lot of snacks, food, and drinks were waiting for us to eat and drink them. I had lots of wine, Cris eventually fell asleep. Not everyone can handle the lounge ; )

Our flight kept getting delayed, and then delayed some more, and then delayed some more. I was beginning to get very concerned because it is a LONG flight, about 16 hours on board with boarding time, and knowing a lot about crew’s maximum working hours due to one of my best friend Colin being cabin crew on Virgin Atlantic, I was very concerned about the flight being cancelled until the morning. Airlines can also move people with horizontal seats (i.e., first and business) to coach to accommodate crew rest time, and I didn’t want that happening to us! I was ease dropping on some airport staff murmurings that the flight was going to be cancelled until the morning. I was super disappointed! I then went into Super Crazy Kimberly mode because I knew the morning flight was not empty and we would not all be getting on that flight! They offered people the option to switch to business complimentary on British Airways, but they unfortunately don’t fly to Sri Lanka (not to mention their business cabin isn’t nearly as nice). Before they even made the official announcement, I was waiting in line like a crazy person, at the ticket desk (there is thankfully one in the lounge) to get us rebooked on the morning flight; I was getting on that damn plane!! They rebooked those switching to BA first, and then I was first in line to be rebooked. At this point, a very large line had formed behind me, but of course because I am crazy, I was ahead of the curve. Not my first rodeo! I was disappointed because of course a vacation flight in business, not a work flight in coach, was the one getting cancelled!! As they pulled up my record, there was an announcement over the staff’s walkie talkies that the flight was indeed going to go after all!! I was elated. SUPER big wave of relief and excitement rushed over me and I pretty much skipped back to Cris announcing to the entire lounge that the flight was leaving. Cris slept through this, lol.

We boarded our flight and were absolutely SO happy to be on board, now for more reason than one! We checked out our seats and acted like total business class noobs, taking photos and looking at all the free swag we got. I am sure there were tons of people looking at us thinking, “psh, amateur hour in row 6.”

We helped ourselves to champagne, drinks, and snacks, and our flight attendant came around and took our first “in-flight drink order” for us before we even took off, so that we would have a drink as soon as we were able in air! Amazing. Can I always fly like this? Cris stuck to mojitos for the duration of the flights, while I stuck with champagne. It was glorious. We enjoyed multiple wonderful hot towels that smelled of eucalyptus throughout the flight, dinner, with real linen napkins, glass dishes, and etc., served in three courses! They also came around with breadbaskets and champagne. After dinner was finished, we played around with our seats and watched some movies. Before going to sleep, the flight attendant came over and made our seats up into beds, with mattresses! What?! Amazing. We both slept around 6-8 hours total (sleeping on a plane, even in business, is still challenging. I know, World’s smallest violin for me).  We had breakfast before we landed, again complete with table linens, champagne service, china, etc.

We landed in Dubai and went to a hotel we had reserved for the night. The flight landed at 9:30 PM (two hours late), and our next flight was at 7:30 AM the next morning. I got a few hours of sleep, but the “problem” with having flown business, is you really are better rested, so I wasn’t ready to sleep! I woke up at 3:00 AM. Ugh. We spent a few hours at the airport the next morning enjoying the Emirates lounge, and let me tell you, it was fan.freaking.tastic. It makes the lounge in Seattle look like a joke. Huge buffet spread, as much alcohol as you want, shoe shining (I didn’t even realize that was still a thing, lol), showers, and more! It was amazing. It sure beats sitting in the airport at your gate, fighting for elbow space with a stranger!

Our flight to Sri Lanka was only 4 hours, and when we boarded the plane, we realized we were the only people in business!!! We literally had the entire cabin to ourselves, with our own dedicated flight attendant. This plane was very new and so it had lots of bells and whistles that our previous one didn’t have! It was great. We have both been forever ruined by business. I felt very grateful to have had the opportunity to try it out.

We landed in Colombo in the early afternoon. It is one of the weirdest airports I have been to, anywhere. There is a huge appliance store, in the airport. Like washers and dryers and ovens. Who buys these things before flying?! Cris and I have joked throughout our trip that we are going to pick one up on our way to the Maldives.

The drive to our hotel in Kandy was about 2 hours. We were so happy to be in Sri Lanka! The grounds of our hotel were really beautiful. I ended up falling asleep around 5:00 PM!

Major no-no in terms of “jetlag rules.” Most people I work with, or people I know who also travel extensively, have a set of rules around jet lag. I also have rules. Each person’s rules are slightly different, but the most widely accepted and common are:

1) NO NAPS ON THE FIRST DAY. Bad idea. Your body is super confused and your nap will likely turn into a full night of sleep, because if you are on the other side of the world, your body thinks it is nighttime. This is the best way to adjust to your current time zone.

2) Do NOT go to sleep before 8 PM. I know a few people who say 7 PM, or even 9 PM (I can never make it that late), but 8 PM seems to be the most frequently cited time. If you go to bed any earlier, you run the risk of waking up at the ass crack of dawn, or middle of the night. You will most likely be up very early anyways, but a few hours later in the evening usually buys you some extra Zzzzzs in the morning.

 3) Get outside and expose yourself to daylight as much as you can, it helps reset your clock and keeps you awake.

Well, I broke every cardinal rule when it comes to jet lag: I laid down in the afternoon in my (dark) hotel room, decided I was going to “ just quickly nap” and it was before 8PM (it was around 5 PM). My theory is that because I didn’t follow my tried and true rules, it has been hard to get in front of my jet lag this trip.

I was up bright and early at 2:30 AM our first day in Kandy (one reason to not go to bed before 8 PM, to attempt to avoid this), and was up and ready to go. We went to an elephant orphanage on our first day. It rescues elephants that were kept as pets, used in entertainment or etc. It is open for three hours each day, where you can pay to observe a feeding, and then watch them play in the river. I have been to an elephant orphanage (for babies) in Nairobi, and it is really wonderful and has a great reputation. We weren’t quite sure about this place. Cris and I are both vegetarians primarily because of animal cruelty/factory farming/animal rights and etc., so these issues are obviously very important causes to us. There were some things at this orphanage that both made us a little uncomfortable without having all of the information. While most of the elephants were free to roam around, there were a few chained up, and this deeply disturbed and upset us. It was supposedly because they were new elephants and had lots of behavioral and aggression issues. While I can certainly see how animals coming from service, entertainment or etc. would likely have issues, it made both of us quite upset, as we thought there has to be a better way.

Sometimes traveling, as a “tourist” or traveler, you end up partaking in and supporting things that after the fact, you realize might have been unethical, or that took advantage of people, or animals, or etc., and some people can struggle with guilt from this, I know I have many times. A lot of people don’t even think twice, so I think coming away acknowledging that it might not have been a good activity to participate in, and telling others is ok; you made the decision you did at the time with the information you had then.

I find, for me,  that traveling is one of life’s greatest opportunities for learning and reflection: How are we impacting the world? How is this trip impacting the places we go? The people? Are they paid fairly? Are they treated well? What are my dollars supporting, are they reflecting my values? I find that I am constantly thinking and analyzing my actions traveling, particularly in limited-resource settings. I receive some kind of education everywhere I go, every single time. It is a constant readjustment to how I travel through the world, and how I spend my money.

Ultimately, the elephant orphanage was great, other than the few chained up elephants. I would need more information to make a completely informed decision about the place. Watching them play in the river, however, was amazing!! Seeing them just walk off, lay in the mud, play with each other, roll around, or whatever, was magical. I LOVE elephants. They are such majestic creatures, and seeing them in their natural habitat has been some of the most wonderful experiences of my life.

We spent the rest of the day lounging by the pool, and I got a wonderful Balinese massage. It was a great day!

We spent our second day in Sri Lanka on a day trip to hike up a huge rock, Sigiriya, that has a temple built into it at the top, and to some ancient Buddhist caves called Dambulla. Sigiriya was not something that was at the top of my list due to my pretty significant fear of heights. Cris really wanted to go, so of course I said I would go, and would try my best. It is a pretty steep and quick ascent, mostly via stairs that are attached to the side of this enormous rock. Rock really isn’t a good word; it is more like a mini mountain. Once we reached the second to the top level, I decided I couldn’t go any further. The stairs to the final level were absolutely insane. SUPER steep and seemed like shoddy construction. I wasn’t going to do it, and Cris was going to go up alone, when a guide literally grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs (he knew I was afraid), and kept saying, “slowly slowly, steady steady, no look down.” I miraculously got up to the top! He of course wanted to be paid (which I did), but I was thankful for his literally, hand up, pushing me past my boundaries. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. It was an incredible view from the top! I was really proud of myself, because I really don’t like heights. We could see for miles and miles. I just got a new camera and lenses and we both had lots of fun playing with the zoom lens I bought for it. The entire time on the way up I was like, “Who do you think designed this? How are these steps secured to the rock? What do you think the maximum load bearing weight is for these stairs? Are these stairs swaying? Aren’t there too many people on these?!” Cris told me those weren’t normal things to think about and that I should stop, HA! Coming down wasn’t fun; it is usually worse for me. My legs become Jell-O and I become the asshole who is holding up the line. I eventually made it down in one piece; Cris was very patient with my irrational fear, slowness, and peppering line of questions.

After Sigiriya, we went to cave temples that have sculptures carved directly out of the rock in them. Some are as old as 1,500 years old. They were pretty incredible! It is crazy to think how people built this stuff back then.

Our final day in Kandy, we spent exploring the city itself. We went to the famous, “Temple of the Tooth” where Buddha’s supposed tooth is immortalized. We tootled around the city, went to a market, which is always a highlight, and hiked up to this huge Buddha on a hill overlooking the city. Cris also experienced his first tuk tuk! Kandy itself was overall just kind of medium. I was looking forward to the next day!

From Kandy, we took the train to Ella, a highland town full of tea plantations. This particular stretch of train is very often regarded as one of the most scenic or beautiful train trips in the world. I had seen it on lists in years past, and knew I had to do it! We splurged for first class tickets (7 hour journey), and were very glad we did, because there was AC, and the rest of the train did not have it. I spent most of the time hanging out the door taking photos. It was unbelievably beautiful! The train just zoomed through hills upon hills of rolling green as far as the eye could see. Hard to believe it is all tea. The journey passed quickly due to my constant photo taking and being mesmerized by the scenery. It truly is one of the most beautiful things I have done and am so glad to have experienced it.

We arrived in Ella and went to a little cottage/bungalow type thing in the hills. We had our own balcony, and were tucked away in the jungle, surrounded by tea! The view was gorgeous. We just sat and enjoyed it for a very long time. We would both love to spend more time in Ella, it is a jewel in Sri Lanka’s very beautiful crown.

Our day in Ella was spent hiking and trekking through the hills and foothills of the highlands. We hiked something called Little Adam’s Peak, which was well worth the ascent! Amazing, sweeping views of the verdant hills. It was a perfect day, albeit quite hot! We also visited a tea plantation and factory, and learned so much! Did you know that green tea and black tea are from the same tea plants, but they are just processed differently? Green tea comes first, from drying and heating the tea leaves, and then from it, black tea can be made through a fermentation process. I thought it was quite interesting and neat! After our tea factory visit, we headed to the famous Nine Arches Bridge to see a train pass over it. It is one of the images very often associated with Sri Lanka, but few actually end up getting there, because it is quite difficult to access, and also dangerous!

I was prepared to wait a few hours for the train, knowing that train service can be quite unreliable in Sri Lanka. But I was determined to see the train cross over this beautiful bridge! Sitting around on train tracks in the beating sun, all for a photo of a train going over a bridge, is not exactly Cris’ idea of a fun afternoon. He was very patient because he knew how important it was to me, which I very much appreciated! He filled his time by feeding nearby cows some grass. He would go and pick it from an area where it was abundant, but they couldn’t reach due to their ropes, and feed it to them. I think the cows and Cris both had fun.

In total, we ended up waiting 2.5 hours for the train, and got very burned in the process. But when the train came over, wow! Amazing. Such an incredible sight: an old train coming through a train tunnel between two hills of green, over this old, brick bridge, with the sun shining down. It was such a sight to behold and so worth the wait! I absolutely love the photos.

We debated whether we should backtrack and retrace our steps. Backtracking would mean a very steep hike out of the valley and a much longer route. Most people just walk the tracks into town going through the tunnel, as it only takes about a half hour. We ultimately decided to take the tracks, because the afternoon train had come through and felt like we would be safe. It was a really beautiful walk through a largely untouched area, with lots of tea everywhere. While we were walking, the tracks started to vibrate, ever so slightly.

I stopped, and asked, “Is that a train?”

At this point, the vibrating was hard to discern whether it was a train or from us walking. I again asked, “Is that a train?!”

At this point, Cris stopped, and I screamed, “It is a train! IT IS A TRAIN!!!”

We were unfortunately on a narrow bridge, and had nowhere to go. I was like well fuck, here is where it all ends. He stopped and said very calmly, “Quick, backtrack to that patch and jump off!” I followed him and was going as fast as I could, but was really afraid I was going to trip, which would be very bad news. I told myself in my head, “calm down, go slower.” I held the camera around my neck with my hand to avoid it swinging and infringing my view of the tracks. I don’t know how long it was until we could jump off, but with every track, all I was thinking was a methodical rhythm and instructions for my feet in my head, “plank, foot, lift, step, plank, foot, lift, step, plank, foot, lift, step.”

I was focusing all my energy on not tripping due to being scared as hell and not looking backwards. The first time I looked up from the planks Cris yelled, “NOW! JUMP!” The train was right there, blowing its whistle. Fucking scary as hell. But what do I do? I grab my camera that is still around my neck and start shooting photos of the train! It was really incredible. And also kind of fucking stupid. And scary. And lucky for us that we made it off in time. After that, needless to say, our hearts were pounding! We were over halfway to town, probably more at that point, so we stayed on the tracks because we figured it would be less time on them if we continued rather than doubling back. We hastened our pace a lot and were much more cautious. It was really scary!

Another one of my lives down, I suppose. Always gotta keep things interesting! Moral of the story: walking on train tracks is a really, really bad idea.

The next day we traveled to a hotel right outside of Yala National Park, where we would be doing a one-day safari the following day, very early in the morning. The hotel turned out to be amazing! We even got upgraded to a suite. It was one of the nicest hotels I have ever been to. We were both in awe of everything, it was a really nice treat. We had the afternoon to just relax, and ended up getting Ayurveda massages. Ayurveda is some kind of traditional Indian healing method (? I really don’t know much about it, feel free to educate me), but it involved a massage with hot oil that was supposed to help treat sunburns (I told them I had a bad sunburn). At the end of the massage they literally went to their aloe plant outside, plucked off a huge leaf, and made this aloe paste stuff and smeared it on me. It was wonderful. Instantly soothing and cooling, far above regular aloe vera gel. They even gave me an aloe leaf spear thing to use while traveling! I love it. I officially want to own an aloe plant. I have no proof that the treatment helped the sunburn, but it has healed really quickly. Either way, the massage was nice.

Bright and early the next morning, we left for our safari. We were in the safari jeep by 5:15 AM, and much to my surprise, we were very high in the air, open air, and appeared to have no seat belts! We were cruising down the street really fast. I was like does this thing have seat belts? The guide said no and just shrugged. Of course it doesn’t have seat belts. I was freezing so quickly started layering, and got out my trusty snuggy. That thing always comes in handy! Good thing it is zebra print so I can blend in with the animals (there are no zebras here).

We got to the park and there was an insane line of safari jeeps waiting to go in, I was kind of annoyed, we must have been the 50^th one (literally) or so in line. But much to our pleasant surprise, our jeep just cruised past this line! Cris and I looked at each other and went, “SWEET!” I figured it was the line to buy entrance into the national park, so figured that is why we bypassed that line. Once in the park, we eventually encountered another line, with lots of safari jeeps as well, but he just cruised past these ones too! He literally drove on the shoulder of the road, cutting the line. We both felt bad that we were cutting in front of the other vehicles but also amused at the entire process.

One of the midwife trainers I work with always says in situations where we have no idea WTF is going on, “I don’t know what’s going on, I am just here for the ride.” I told Cris this story, and it quickly became our mantra for the entire safari day. We ended up being 3^rd in line for the park when it opened! ‘

As background context, I did a one-day safari in Kenya last January, with pretty epically and comically bad results. To make a long story short, a colleague and I found a driver, the cheapest one we could find, safari-ed around all day, and then our van died in the middle of nowhere (literally) as it was getting dark and we were stuck for hours, and ultimately ended up staying in a lodge. As I didn’t want a repeat of that, I figured the age old adage of, “you get what you pay for” might be especially true for day safaris, so went with an expensive operator (expensive being relative, everything is pretty inexpensive in Sri Lanka). It turns out our operator is the biggest in the area and appeared to have paid the park to let his jeeps cut in line. I guess you get what you pay for?! We felt bad, until we saw a leopard two minutes into being on our safari!

The park we went to is known for leopards and elephants, with the former being very hard to spot (ha!), much like any wild cats. We saw a HUGE leopard up on a rock, just as the sun was coming up. It was incredible! It was pretty far from us, but with my zoom lens and with binoculars, we were both able to see it really clearly. The safari was great, and very different in every way from my experience in Kenya. The parks look vastly different, with Amboseli in Kenya being vast and open, and Yala in Sri Lanka being very dense with brush and trees, with minimal open spaces. In the first four or so hours of the safari, we saw lots of animals, but no elephants. I am really obsessed with elephants, so I really wanted to see them. They call elephants “Jumbos” here, so Cris and I adopted that term about a week ago and have been calling them Jumbos since. I also call them elefantes (Spanish). So we were cruising around the beautiful park, but no Jumbos in sight. Eventually, we saw a few in the distance (solo males), but none up-close. Because the park isn’t really “open” you can’t really spot the tiny elephant humps in the distance like in Kenya, with the exception of a few spots in the park. Midday, the guide parked us by a watering hole and said that we would just wait for the Jumbos there. I was kind of annoyed and impatient and didn’t know if this was a good use of our time. I really wanted to see some elefantes up close! The guide and Cris ended up napping while I was on Jumbo Lookout. All of a sudden, an elephant randomly crossed our path!! It was really quick and I nearly missed it. It was a young-ish elephant, maybe 2-3 years old. After a few minutes, the Mama and a smaller baby crossed as well. IT WAS AMAZING. Right in front of us! We watched the three of them eat in the bushes for a long time. They were totally unfazed by us, just merrily chomping along their jumbo way. We could hear more elephants to the right, but couldn’t see them. After maybe 15 minutes, four more elephants, including the bittiest baby elephant I have ever seen, crossed right in front of us to eat in the same spot! They were all one family. I.was.dying. This little guy was so cute, and SO small! The guide said just a few weeks old. We watched them for a really long time and I took approximately one million photos.

There was a really sweet moment when one of the older babies nuzzled their trunk up behind their mama and clung to her leg, just like a shy two year old child might do. My heart was bursting, it was so cute and sweet! Then, the Mom pooped on the baby’s head. Like 5 times. I of course photographed that, don’t worry. Gotta learn the hard way, I guess, kid.

We learned a lot about the Tsunami from the guide throughout the safari, which was really fascinating to me. Most of what I know about the Tsunami from Thailand’s perspective, but Sri Lanka was really devastated as well. 15,000 people died in Sri Lanka from the Tsunami. The park we were in was hit really hard. I guess in the hours preceding the Tsunami (it hit at 9:20 AM local time), all of the animals moved north, sensing either the earthquake, or ground shaking, or something. He said that literally almost all of the animals evacuated themselves and they lost very few. It is of course hard to think about what they must have thought that day, but I thought, wouldn’t the safaris that day, or the guides, notice the animals leaving in mass exodus? I guess they couldn’t have even remotely predicted what was to come, even if they noticed the animals leaving. Animals are amazingly smart creatures.

We ate lunch on the beach, where there was an area full of foundations from houses. Our guide explained that these were once houses, which the Tsunami ripped off of their foundations. I realized when he said that, that I had seen others like that, and hadn’t put two and two together. Many people (locals and tourists alike) died who were in the park that day, pretty much everyone who was in the wave zone (the entire park was not died). So scary.  Most of Sri Lanka has been rebuilt, and you would never know that a Tsunami wiped the southern end of the country out 11 year ago, but there is still work to do. It is so hard to conceptualize what it must have looked like, or the work involved in bringing a place that has been wiped clean, back up to what it was.

If you ever have the chance to go on a safari, anywhere, you should absolutely take it!! The two safaris I have done have been some of the most amazing experiences of my life. Seeing elephants in their natural habitat is unreal. They are so majestic and fascinating to watch, it really is a sight to behold. As are giraffes and lots of other animals. Seeing animals in all their animal glory is so cool!

After our safari, we headed to the beach. It is postcard, calendar-page beautiful here. The water is teal and very warm, and there are lots of palm trees. We have spent our last few days in Sri Lanka enjoying the beach before we make our way to the Maldives. Such a great way to cap a great time in such a beautiful country.

We have both really loved Sri Lanka. The country is incredibly beautiful, and very diverse. Every new place has brought an entirely new landscape, even with little distance between. We have gone from a “mountain” town full of Buddhist ruins and sites, to tea highlands, a jungle-like national park, and a beautiful coastal area. We are sad to go! But, very excited for the Maldives.

We have had a great trip so far. Cris has been introduced to Travel with Kimberly, and all the insanity that ensues when I leave  the country with my passport. He also has been introduced to how frequently I get sick while abroad. I have, unfortunately, been sick on and off on this trip. I can’t escape it, even while on vacation!! He has marveled at the fact that I leave the country so often, given the regularity and predictability of my being sick. But I have always said, I don’t care what travel does to me, or how difficult it is on me; it is what I love to do. I can’t imagine my life any other way. 

All in a Week: Life and Death

All in a Week: Life and Death

(ETA: This was written flying to Kenya on Friday, December 4, 2015. I realize I have broken every blogging rule by composing a small essay.)

I used to blog.

I was by no means a “blogger”, that is not a word I would have used to describe my little travel writings or myself. But nonetheless, I used to chronicle my (mis)adventures of my world travels to share with others. It started out simply, just emails to friends and family that Kristina and I knew during our first backpacking trip to Europe. Those emails became much more popular than I could have ever imagined, being forwarded to people I didn’t even know. It later morphed into a blog (this thing here), which as basic as it is, served as a placeholder for me to share my experiences with those who were interested in coming along for the ride. But mostly, it was for me. I have spent a lot of the last decade of my life abroad, being exposed to things and places and people that have been radically different from anything I have ever encountered, and writing these blogs has given me a mechanism to process these experiences and connect with those at home. Sometimes it was funny; it was often fucking insane, and sometimes it was hard.  The blogs have also given me a fun written record of memories and details that would have been otherwise lost with the erosion of time.

Over the past two years, many people have asked about my blog. “Why don’t you blog anymore?” “I miss your blog!” and etc. They always surprised and flattered me, but I would always respond with something along the lines of,  “Oh, it is so much work.” Or, “Oh, it is so hard to blog while I am working abroad, with the poor Internet strength, intermittent electricity,” blah blah blah, bullshit. But really, none of that was true.

If you have never read anything I’ve written, and take a quick cursory look through my blog, you will see that the last entry was from over two years ago. It isn’t that I haven’t traveled or had insane fucking crazy experiences since then, in fact, it is the opposite.

My last blog entry was over two years ago, (October 2013) and was from my first time to Kenya, and my very first “blog” email (10 years ago!!) was during a literally life-altering backpacking trip to Europe when I was 20. It is ironic that I am writing this now, because I am currently making an almost identical journey to the one I did to Europe back in 2005; flying from Texas (in this case Dallas, and not Houston) to London, except this time I will be traveling onward to Kenya. I remember Kristina and I thought that the flight would never end; it seemed at times we had entered a new level of hell, in disbelief that we could still possibly be on the damn airplane. But with the passage of time, and more travel experience, a hop to London has become a quick trip for me. The 15-16 hour hauls on the other hand, followed by an additional flight, are the real depths of hell. Reflecting on this experience while I make my way to London serves as an interesting comparison for how much I have changed as a person, and as a traveler in the last ten years, in every conceivable way. This trip also marks my 8^th trip to Kenya.

Which brings me to my last blog entry: October 2013. What am I trying to get at here? Why the long absence? Well, what the vast majority of people reading those Kenyan blog entries from October 2013 didn’t know at the time was that my Mom had just very recently been diagnosed with ALS, a terminal condition. My trip to Kenya for work was already planned, and after a few flight changes, I ended up getting on that plane to Kenya less than two weeks later. Those two weeks, and really the following few months, are an utter fog for me. I got on the plane less than two weeks out from the moment that will forever demarcate my life, as my sister and I call it: Before ALS and After ALS. To add to the mix, my Grandpa died days before I got on the plane to Kenya. In many ways, it was an excruciating journey for me, in every conceivable way. I didn’t know what the future held, I was scared out of my fucking mind, and I was sad. Sad doesn’t really articulate the feeling I had, it was a deep level of anguish, anger, fear, and grief.

Grief.

Grief for what would come, and what would come after, and what I, and all of my family, would inevitably lose. At that point being just weeks into the diagnosis, we knew very little, except that ALS is an incredibly unpredictable disease. The day when the neurologist told me my Mom’s diagnosis (I was alone and the first to know), I immediately asked him, “How long?” He said, 1-3 years. It was like taking a bullet. In that moment, a part of me died, and was so irrevocably changed, and I will never get it back. I walked away as another person entirely: Kimberly After ALS. We now know that those statistics were slightly outdated, and that the prognosis from diagnosis is around 3-5 years.

So, I went to Kenya. I was in a haze of confusion and grief and barely functioning. I look back on those first few weeks, and am unclear how I functioned as an adult human; it was almost as if I was in an amnesiac state. How did I get here? What the fuck is happening? Why to my Mom? Why to me?

I was 27.

But, I blogged. Everyone expected me to blog my adventures while traveling, so in part to maintain and hold onto that last bit of my innocent Before ALS former life, I blogged about my impressions and experiences in Kenya. Very, very few people knew about the diagnosis at that time. I struggled writing the blogs I did, they didn’t feel authentic or true to what I was actually experiencing. Here I was, doing all of this cool shit and writing about it, when really, I was in utter emotional turmoil. My life was upside down and I didn’t know which way was up, but I couldn’t write about that in my blog. So instead, I wrote about elephants. And getting stranded at the airport, and all of the other crazy shit that happened on that trip. All of it was true, but what I didn’t write about was that I wasn’t really experiencing much of it, I was just floating through it, and couldn’t write about what was actually going on. We didn’t officially announce to the world about my Mom’s diagnosis until Thanksgiving, about 5 weeks after we received the diagnosis.

My first day in Kenya, on the encouragement of an incredibly supportive colleague to whom I will be eternally grateful, Julia, I went to an elephant orphanage rather than actually working. It is for baby elephants whose mothers have died due to poaching, illness, or some other reason. They raise them and then release them back into the wild when old enough. It was sad. It was fucking sad. But it was also extremely cute and sweet, and it buoyed me in a way I didn’t anticipate. I cried watching these baby elephants; I kept thinking, they are surviving, without their Mamas. All while knowing in the forefront of my mind about what my future would inevitably entail, and far too fucking soon than is fair. It offered me a catharsis I didn’t know I needed.

After writing a few blogs during that trip to Kenya, I just couldn’t bring myself to “fake it” on the blog anymore. My blogs have always been very real and uncensored, but I didn’t feel like I could be fully real, nor was I even ready to face everything. In the intervening two years since those last posts, I haven’t been able to bring myself to blog until now. I have changed. I am not the same person as I was then, not necessarily for the worse, just different. I have struggled to bridge some of my “Before ALS life” with my current life. I have also struggled to blog because my work brings me into contact with situations that aren’t really “bloggable.” I’ve seen things that I didn’t know how to put into words, and didn’t know how to convey to the people (however few) who read my blog what it was that I was experiencing. I also didn’t want to trivialize these people’s and women’s experiences, pretending that I understood, or be part of a “poverty porn” rhetoric. I also struggled immensely with feeling simultaneously grateful for my Mom being diagnosed with ALS in the United States, while also feeling guilty because so many people around the world have such deeper levels of pervasive suffering. My first trip to India for work in January 2015 hit me hard emotionally with some of the experiences I had there, and exacerbated a stage I had entered of, everything fucking sucks, there is so much suffering in the world, so much hard and sad shit, it is just not fair. So I closed myself off from this blog. I never wrote about my crazy and incredibly scary adventure to the Taj Mahal I had, or puking all over India, or anything else; they all seemed trivial and meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

I have had other amazing fun, non-work trips since then, including the, “Year of Travel” with my Mom and other family members. In 12 months, we went to Disneyworld, Europe (Italy, Greece), Hawaii (Kauai and Oahu), Disneyland, and New Orleans. I didn’t blog a single word. I thought about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it. Why? I may never know for sure. In some ways, I knew I would love and appreciate the memories later, being able to read about the granular details of a an amazing meal on the cliffs of Santorini while watching the sun go down, or a crazy drive through Tuscany, or that time Michael checked his bag to the wrong destination, or figuring out how the fuck to get luggage and a wheelchair through Venice or up to an 8^th floor without an elevator. I was also afraid to record some of these experiences out of fear that it would also bring me face to face with a reality I wasn’t quite ready to confront. I realize now that it doesn’t matter that I don’t have blogs or written accounts of these adventures. Because I will always have them, just for me. And maybe that is why I didn’t write them down, because I needed them to grieve and to accept, to remember, to hold them close to my heart, selfishly not sharing them with anyone else, and to remain present in those moments.

Fast forward to today: I sit in seat 52H; traveling from Dallas to London, and later will be flying onto Nairobi. I began this journey much like I did my first trip to Kenya two years ago; in pain, mourning, grief-stricken, confused. I am also coincidentally making a return trip to the baby elephant orphanage.

Why did I decide to put words to paper again? Because I realized this is a catharsis I need; even if no one ever reads it. Or maybe someone will read it who will get some help or solace from my writing who are experiencing similar situations. There are very few people who understand what it means to lose a parent at such a young age, at a time when you have so many significant life milestones yet to experience. I can count on one hand the individuals in my life who can really understand what it means, or what it means to love someone with a prolonged terminal illness. Since my Mom’s diagnosis, I have sought out every written account of loss, anticipatory grief, ALS, Mother Loss, death, grieving, etc. that I can find to help me make some sense of my experiences. Maybe these words here will reach someone who is also in this small, stupid, fucking shitty club of which I am now a member.

The past week of my life has been one of the hardest weeks of my life to date, eclipsed by very few other weeks. Since my Mom’s diagnosis, the holidays have become a time for me that include a lot of anticipatory anxiety, I fear about being present, stretching the moments, making them last, making sure my Mom is ok. This Thanksgiving was hard in ways I couldn’t anticipate, but don’t feel like I can go into detail about here. I also found out that day that one of the golden retrievers that my sister used to have with her ex, had cancer. My beloved Sadie.

When I heard the news it was like the wind was knocked out of me. In part because I have very little emotional reserves to take on new grief at this current stage in my life. And also, because I loved that dog in ways that most people probably can’t, or won’t, ever understand. The dogs (Sadie and Sam) ultimately went to live with their Dad. I maintained a connection and relationship with the Puppos as I lovingly refer to them as, in the intervening years. I even still have photos of them up in my house. Those dogs, particularly Sadie, brought me through some of the worst moments of my life in the first 5 years of their lives. I was never raised with dogs, but they introduced me to a type of pure, unadulterated, incredible love that I didn’t know I lacked. They made me realize I had a dog-shaped hole in my heart.

I reeled for a few days after the events surrounding Thanksgiving, including hearing about my beloved Sadie Mae, my “Macers”. I thought, I have to go see her; I need to go see her. But, I had a trip to Kenya to prepare for, and one of my best friends, Kristina, was about to have a baby any second. I thought there would be more time. We always think we will have more time.

In the intervening days, I, “threw my back out,” whatever the hell that means. I couldn’t move, walk, or do anything without excruciating pain. I was completely incapacitated. The levels of stress I was experiencing physically manifested in my back. Cris, my boyfriend, forced me to go to urgent care and quite literally physically got me there. They fixed me up with some injections and lovely narcotics, thankfully, because just a few hours later (Monday), Kristina would go into labor with her second baby. Cris has to drive me to Tacoma to get to the hospital, thanks Valium, and Cris!

For some context for those of you who do not know, I am a Doula (an emotional labor support person) and have seen a lot of babies come into this World (40-50) through my year as a Doula at a Community Health Center, supporting friends through their labors, and through my current job, where I have seen many babies born in facilities where we work. But it never gets old for me; every birth is different and amazing in its own way. I love birth. I am passionate about women and babies, maternity care, maternal health, and supporting women through such a momentous and life-altering time in their lives. I was very thankful Kristina wanted me there. While I wasn’t much use due to my back, I was there as I watched this perfect little life come into this world. Babies make everything better. They remind you of the beauty of life; of life and of death. Just as people come into this world, someone else departs.

The unique part of this birth for me was that it would be the first birth I would attend After ALS (other than the birth of my nephew, which I missed…but that’s another story…). I knew going in that it might be difficult for me. Her birth ended up being wonderful and without complications, and I was so happy to have been included in such a special and important life moment. I was able to photograph the birth so that they (and someday, Reese) are able to relive such an emotionally intense and wonderful day. While it was in some ways difficult for me, seeing Kristina’s mom participate in the birth and wondering what my future births might or might not look like, it was mostly just joyful and full of love. It was another reminder of the many small and large ways in which my life has irrevocably changed.

Two days later (Thursday), I received a text from Mike saying that Sadie was going to be put down that day due to the cancer taking over her body and her suffering. I immediately broke into tears. Heaving, hard, heavy sobs.

I was crying for Saders, and for reason I wasn’t even quite sure. I was a wreck all morning. I wanted so badly to go and see her one last time and say goodbye to this beloved animal who had changed my life in so many unexpected and wonderful ways I am still unable to articulate. I went back and forth. I wasn’t sure that it was fair to intrude into their grief. My sister encouraged me to reach out and ask; I did, and immediately Mike said that I could of course come say goodbye to Sadie. I broke down again, from a mixture of relief and dread. I also broke down because this tidal wave of grief was bigger than Sadie.

How was I going to do this? How was I going to say goodbye to her? I wanted more time. I thought I would have more time. Don’t we all? Don’t we always think we will have more time? We always want more time.

I went a few hours later. I was extremely anxious that she and Sammy (her brother, who I also love dearly) might not remember me. It had been a few years since I had seen them last due to complicated life circumstances. As soon as I walked in, I knew Sammy remembered me. He immediately licked me and kissed my face over and over and wouldn’t leave me alone. My heart both burst with love and also broke into a million pieces. After spending some time loving on Sammy, I went over to Sadie. She was lying on her bed, mostly sedate, with labored breathing. As I crouched down and said, “Hi Sadie Mae, I missed you so much” she opened her eyes, and wagged her tail. I knew that was a huge effort for her physically; I also knew in that moment that she still remembered me. I laid over her and buried my face in her scruff and cried. I told her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, how much I would miss her, what a good girl she has been, that it will all be over soon and that it is going to be ok.

Sadie’s ears were always my favorite part of her. Super soft, with a layer of curly hair over her straight, soft golden fur. In times of turmoil, or just when I wanted to love her, I would touch her ears. In the hour I spent with her, I spent most of my time touching her ears, stroking her forehead and between her eyes, scratching her back a few times and touching her tail, holding her paws, that still had tufts of hair sticking out between her pads. I was trying my hardest in a brief instance to take in all of her before she was gone, taking a mental snapshot of her. I sat there and thought, how do I say goodbye? How do I let her go? I knew she was suffering and it was the right decision, but it doesn’t lessen the grief and sense of impending loss. I wanted more time; for her to sit on my lap, as she always had when she thought she was a tiny lap dog, or to attempt to run with her for her to only be naughty and lurch forward to chase whatever caught her attention. I wasn’t sure how I was going to physically leave her, knowing I would never see her again.  This may be hard for people to understand, the depth of love I have for Sadie. She wasn’t my dog, after all. But they were in my life for many, many years; they were my surrogate Doggalogs. My sister said to me later that day, with the exception of her Dad, I might have loved her more than anyone else in the world. In the past few years not seeing them was a struggle; I thought about them constantly, I still have pictures of them on my fridge.

I took photos of her during my last hour with her. I wanted to capture her spirit as she was, and focused on her features that I loved the most. Going through those photos later was an incredibly difficult task for me to do, but I’ve found that photography is an important outlet for me and is very healing. On some of our most difficult and emotionally charged days (good and bad, births, weddings, deaths) so much happens and people rarely remember most of it. Even on bad and sad days, it is empowering to look back and think, “I survived that, I made it through.” And on the good days, it is wonderful to look back and say, “I forgot about that!” or “ I don’t even remember that!!”

Sadie’s last few hours of course brought up a tidal wave of grief for the future for me and my family, for the unknown, for what may come, for the unknown that will come, and for the all consuming grief and loss that I can’t quite predict.

It got me to thinking: How do we let anyone, whether it be a dog, friend, or family member, know how much they mean to us? How do we let them know how pivotal their love and relationship have been to the core and foundation of who we are? How do we physically let someone go, making the decision that it is time? One last kiss, one last pet, hug, squeeze, nuzzle. We will ALWAYS want one more. Mike’s wife graciously offered to let me stay until the end when the vet came to the house to put her down, and while I will always appreciate that and it meant so much to me, I knew I had to go. I would always want more time. Always. There would never be enough time. I had to come to a place, literally wedged and crouched on the floor between their Christmas tree and my beloved Macer Mae, that it was time for me to say goodbye. I had to be confident that she knew I loved her, and that I loved her deeply and purely, and hope that my brief presence during her last few hours on earth, brought her some comfort and peace. When I got up, she lifted her head and looked at me; who knows if it was for me, but I went back, gave her an additional nuzzle, hug, and kiss, and whispered that I would always love her, that she meant more to me and brought me more pure joy than she will ever know, and that it would be over soon, and that I will never, ever, forget her.

I will always miss her.

I left and was a mess the rest of the night. I had to leave for Kenya the next morning. I immediately went to my sister’s house, because I knew she understood my grief. Sometimes all you need is for someone to just sit and say; I know. This is hard. This fucking sucks and is shitty. This is a fissure that will never heal. Sometimes you don’t need, or even want to hear that it will get easier, that it is part of some grand plan, but just that it is fucking hard and unfair. Our conversations of course wandered to the present set of grief we experience on a daily basis with our Mom having a terminal illness.

I told her that I wasn’t sure that I had the capacity to take on any additional grief or sadness at this moment. The past 7 days had been a roller coaster of emotions; within one week, I watched a new life come into this world, and said goodbye to my favorite and beloved doggie friend, Sadie.

Later that night, I realized that I, and all of us, do have the ability to take on more grief, whether we want to or not. Just when I think I am at my limit and at rock bottom, I can reach new depths of sadness and grief, because grief is like love. Love is a sponge. It is ever increasing and expanding and knows no limits. Grief is love. Deep grief, is deep love. Just as love can continually expand, so can grief, because it means we loved someone deeply to our absolute core.

Grief is the price of love and life; there would be no grief without love.

I woke up the next morning at an ungodly hour for my flight. My first thoughts waking were, “I am mother fucking tired.” Immediately proceeded by, “she is gone.” This caused me to erupt into another set of heaving sobs and tears. I shortly thereafter found my shirt from the day before, smelled it, touched her soft golden hairs left behind, and held it close to my heart and face.

And I cried. I cried for Sadie. I cried for me. I cried for this unknown future that both my family and me are facing. Sadie’s death has tapped into a reservoir of grief I am living with on an ongoing basis that I didn’t realize was bubbling up so close to the surface. It is hard to be confronted by death when someone who is so beloved to you is living with a progressive terminal illness.

But, we all are terminal. We always think there is more time. There will always be more or enough time, of this we are sure. But there might not be, and we have to accept that. There will never be enough time.

I was talking to a new and very dear friend of mine Jessica, whom I work with, while at the airport. She also travels extensively. We both take the opportunity, while hurling ourselves across the planet in a metal tube with 350 other humans, to decompress, cry, process, accept, heal, and grieve whatever it is that we need to at that moment. I told her that in my mind I have an imaginary bubble around me, and the other 350 passengers on the plane can’t actually see me epically losing my shit, that they can’t see the pile of snotty Kleenexes spilling off my tray table onto the floor. I at least try to have the courtesy to wait until the lights are off, ha! Traveling with me is FUN! So this is what I did on my trip to London: epically lost my shit, used up way too many Kleenexes and wrote my heart out.

I don’t know when I will blog next. Maybe it will be about me getting stuck in the middle of nowhere BFE Kenya, or maybe it will be about my process with grief. I think this blog will evolve with me. While yes, many of my entries will still continue to be “trivial” in the grand scheme of things, I have come to learn and appreciate so much in the last two years that life is lived along the spectrum, during the earth shatteringly difficult times, as well as the hilarious, laugh until we cry and over the top ridiculous times. The later will help get me through the former. Just like my life the past seven days, from welcoming and loving a sweet baby girl into this world, to saying goodbye to my sweet and loved Sadie girl. That is life, we live mostly in the in-between, but we have to remember the edges of life too.  

This entry has been long, and rambling, and I probably waxed poetically about things no one else cares about. But I realize that these blogs, this processing, is vital to my survival. Some will read this and think it is too personal; why the need to share it publically? I don’t know, it probably is. But that is what this blog has always been. I also felt like I couldn’t pick up two years later without crossing the bridge I have been on and explaining some of my story. I didn't feel like I would ever be able to blog again if I wasn’t able to be real, so here it is. If you haven’t read my ramblings before, you will see that they are uncensored, unabashedly real, and often unspell checked. I have intentionally never edited the blogs I wrote my first summer in Europe, while I was hastily hammering out as much as I could on a computer with a French keyboard, not taking the time to spellcheck because I was spending five Euros an hour to be on that damn computer (remember those days?!), and because I was too poor to put in more Euros and take the time to spellcheck or figure out how to change the spellcheck to English. I could edit them now, make them a little more coherent and eloquent, and remove some F-bombs; but then what is the point? They would no longer be me, nor would they represent who I was at that moment in my life.

This trip also is the very last trip I will take with my first passport. The first stamp was from London Gatwick, from my European backpacking trip. I have had pages added overtime, and it is now nearly full even with the additional pages. It is full of visas and stamps from amazing places; representing my time living in other places, and my crazy and wonderful and life changing adventures in nearly 35 countries. It is weathered, and a bit beaten and is definitely showing its age. But, it also represents so much of the journey I have been on in the past 10 years. I am who I am today, presently hurling myself towards Kenya, because of that first summer in Europe, realizing that the world is a big fucking, magical and wonderful, and also tragic place, and that I must see as much of it as I can, in as much time as I am given.

While this entry represents a significant departure from my original travel musings, it is also a representation of that fact that I am a different person than I was then. I have lost a sense of innocence that I will never get back. Sometimes I wonder; would I want that innocence back? I often think, no, I am who I am; the good, the bad, and the ugly from all of my experiences.

I saw a quote a few days ago that deeply resonated with me, “Every next level of your life will demand a different you.” Not good, not bad, just different.

Deep grief has taught me so much about deep love, living, dying, and time.

Much love to you all. <3