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By Jen Hawse on Uncategorized tagged Dad, Father's Day, love, memories, reflection

Wish You Were Here — Memories of My Dad

Today, I’m taking a little break from the regular strictly travel blogging to write an ode to my late father. It is interwoven into the travel story, and I’ll share how later. But, the real reason I’m writing and sharing this is because the only people who are truly dead are those we’ve forgotten about and I have not stopped thinking of him on my journey, especially lately. He is alive and thriving in my thoughts and I’d like you all to know about a little bit about him through my lived experience.

Foods that remind me of my dad: apple strudel, schnitzel and potato salad, and a favorite dinner classic of ours, chicken cordon blue.

Two years ago today, my heart shattered into a zillion pieces. It was the day that hope died and it all started before dawn. That day proceeded two previous years of brutal treatments and an entire lung removal, one of the most painful surgeries on the books. It was after two years of constantly praying for better test results, and living within someone else’s pain that I couldn’t take away. It was two years of learning a new definition of love, one that includes care and forgiveness as its tenants and sees mistakes as part of the imperfectly perfect human form. It included happy moments that I tried desperately to hold onto and nights of endless crying jags where Jason had to comfort me for hours.

Time heals the immediacy of the shock and pain you feel after a death, but it doesn’t change what happened. What time does change, in fact, is you.

Just a day or so after he passed. Jason took this and I feel it sums up so much.

I don’t have any grandparents left and I haven’t since I was 25, so death was no stranger to me. But, losing my dad was wholly different. He was too young to go and had too much left to accomplish in this world. He was a big teddy bear of kindness and an encyclopedia of the world’s knowledge. He could do anything, from building a house from the ground up, to constructing a custom car, to creating a thriving garden. He would say to me growing up again and again, “You know I won’t be around forever, Jen, so you have to learn this now.” I would harshly respond, “I know, I know. Stop saying that!”. Those words just felt so morbid and I didn’t want to face it. In my heart of hearts I knew this is what would become of his fate. His words only sealed it for me and made me worry about his impending illness and passing well before he was ever diagnosed. His constant coughing, even after he quit smoking, made my stomach turn. It never became normal; it always hurt my heart and made me wretch with anxiety. I know my brother and his sister have said the same, so we all shared in that aching worry over beloved friend.

My hair looks goofy, but I cherish this picture with all my heart.

I wish I could say I was worried over nothing, but I wasn’t. I worried until it happened. I didn’t cause the lung cancer by predicting it, I just made my worries a reality. I’ll never forget the poor way I reacted to the news. When my dad told me he had cancer I said, “I knew it! I knew this was going to happen.” and… I didn’t hug him. There’s plenty to be ashamed about in this world and this is at the top of my list of shameful acts. I should have exercised compassion and said, “I’m so sorry. This is terrible news. I love you very much and I’m here for you no matter what.” But, I said, I told you so. What a dick.

This man deserved better. It’s still my favorite old picture of him.

Throughout the next two years I did become more compassionate, more loving, and more hugging of my dad. My dad was never much of a hugger, but I know he always wanted hugs and just didn’t know how to give them. I decided that, as an adult, I would take the initiative and hug him no matter what. I’m so glad that I did, because by dropping my ego I was able to be more kind and affectionate to him when he needed it most. You can change a relationship for the better with one decision. I’m living proof.

No problem with my arms around him here.

Throughout this journey I’ve thought of the kinds of questions my dad would be asking me and what he’d be telling me if we were able to have phone calls or write letters/emails. What connected him and I most strongly was our endless love of learning. He taught me how to do research for the sake of wanting to know more about the world and how it works. Growing up at dinner time, my parents and I would have a dictionary on the table, looking up words and talking about their meaning. Talk about pre-smartphone days!

Before he lost his hair, about a year before he died.

I think my dad would be insanely worried about where I’m at, but also proud of me for being so bold as to leave the comforts of home and venture. He always said to me, “Be careful!” and meant it. He worried like I worry. My mom, on the other hand, is the sane one that accepts how life works and doesn’t get caught up in the worries like we do. Still, through his worries, my dad would have wanted to know how I was witnessing the world and what life is like on the other side. He’d ask about how people live in Taiwan, or how beach wildlife is doing in Thailand, or how people even move around in crowded India. He’d love the food we’re eating in Poland and Austria (and will have in Germany), but otherwise he’d take a pass on the rest of it.

My mom told me the further you get from his death the easier it will be to remember the good parts of his life, and she’s right. When he first passed it was so hard to stop thinking about all the painful years he had and how brutal the ending was. Now, I look at the world and think, “Oh, my dad would have loved to see this little beer stein (even though he didn’t drink he collected them). I wish I could get him a souvenir.” or “Geez, what would my dad think of this craziness! He’d be so worried about me!” The dreams of him suffering have slowed too, where he was on the brink of death. The only solace I had in those dreams was he was moving, living, in my mind, and I could talk to him again. But, he was in pain, and for what it’s worth even in my mind I’d prefer him to be at peace than in pain. This song always reminds me of him, he loved James Taylor, and I’ll always love this song.

My mom and I will meet again in less than one month in Ireland! It’s a dream of hers to go and visit the place where her ancestors came from. She’s wanted to see Ireland for probably her entire life. I’m so moved that we get to take this journey together, along with my Aunt Monica and Jason. It’s going to be the trip of a lifetime. Having my mom around, even though I’m far from her, helps. I try not to worry about her as much as I did with my dad, she’s healthier and happier than he ever was and she wants to stay that way. I do still worry, and she knows it, but I’m worried far less for her now than I was before. If something terrible happens then it happens and we’ll deal with it. For now, “It’s all good.” as she says.

I’ve had my belief in the importance of family strengthened throughout my journey. I’m working on doing nothing more to compromise those valuable relationships, only to strengthen them. I’ve not always been a great family member to all of my loved ones, but they are my loved ones and I want to make sure I do my best to be there for them and love them. I will continue to fail and I apologize to all that I’ve hurt whom I love. Please accept this human’s humble heart and know she doesn’t want to do you any harm, even if she has before. She’s learned so much and only wants to love you and know you. She needs her family more than you know.

My mom and I in Nashville, when I was a skinny young farmer, five years ago. I missed her so much!

The journey continues. We have less a little more than two months before we return. It’ll be a great time and we’re very grateful for the opportunity. I’ll finish up that Europe Part II blog soon (it’s almost done, promise!) but I couldn’t let this day pass without sharing these thoughts with you. Sending you my love and tenderness.

18 Apr

By Jen Hawse on Uncategorized tagged asia, City review, reflection, Southeast Asia

Lessons from My Asian Sojourn

We’re seven months into this insane eleven month trip and for all but three weeks we were in Asia, a place I previously had no intention of visiting. Why would I not be interested in visiting the area of the world where most of the people live? Plenty of reasons come to mind, but chiefly I was afraid it would be too different and too difficult. Language barriers wouldn’t be traversable. People would push and shove. Transportation would be impossible due to unreliable schedules and insane driving. I’d get sick. I’d be overwhelmed. I’d be bored. I’d be lonely. I’d be missing home.
It’s easy to worry when you don’t know what you’re up against. But, “worry is the interest paid in advance on a debt you may never owe.” It’s stress for stresses sake. This is not to say I was completely wrong in my worries, but that my worries were in part easily managed in the face of living through them and often totally overblown or entirely misplaced.
A few of the lessons that Asia has taught me is:

Trains run on time, almost all of the time. Even when we’ve believed we were going to have a flight delayed or a bus would be late it hardly ever happened and never interfered with our schedule. It feels like a myth, or just a sad misfortune, that so many people have had experiences where their mode of transportation was completely late or even non-existent. Most of the time people are on time, at least all throughout Asia.
You can communicate without words. That said, almost everyone has a basic understanding of English that we spoke with, but even for those who knew nothing more than hello there was still common ground to be found and transactions to be made. Smiles are your greatest currency when speaking without words. Kindness can get you so far. I’ve eaten food without being able to speak a word to the food stall owner, just pointing and nodding. I’ve played with kids in the street who chase me with sticks for swords and RWAR at me. I’ve gotten through so much with “Hello” and “Thank you” alone. It’s not perfect, but it’s not as hard as you’d imagine.
Beauty is wordless
Street food isn’t going to kill you, most of the time. While I had a few run-ins with some illness along the way, with one recent notable experience in Bangkok, but I ate almost exclusively street foods for months without major incident. Jason has never had a true case of food poisoning this entire time and despite a little sickness along the way it was worth the tastes and experiences to eat soup on a tiny stool and throw napkins on the ground when you’re done (it’s hard to “litter”, but that’s how it works sometimes! They sweep it up.). Street food showed us what culture is, because people express themselves through their regional ingredients and we are big lovers of that expression.
We didn’t eat these, but we would have!
You’re never far from luxury if you really want it. While not every hotel or guesthouse we stayed in was exceptional, most were above and beyond what I expected when we first planned this venture. Only once did we not have air conditioning and that was my mistake. Beds are harder here (our “mattress” in Mumbai, as I write this, is about two inches thick) and the bathrooms are “wet”, meaning they shower in the same space as the toilet and sink so everything gets wet, but mostly you have the same western standards available that you’d expect anywhere in America. There are Asian “squatty potties” here too, meaning you don’t sit but instead straddle a hole, facing forward, to go to the bathroom and then use a hose, or bidet, as your cleaning practice. It’s something you get used to, but almost always you can find a regular western style toilet too. Even if there are things that aren’t as comfortable as home, almost everything is still fine after some adjusting.
You get used to goats being in the city, but you still think they’re adorable.

Food wise, if I ever wanted pizza or eggs and toast I could find it no problem. We in fact ate pizza at least half a dozen times. Mexican food doesn’t translate well outside of the US or Mexico, but we even had that a few times to get a different taste than rice or noodles day in and day out. If you want to eat something, most often you can find a place that will serve you at least an approximation of that dish.

Prawns. Fresh!
Road rules are mere suggestions, most of the time. In Japan, Hong Kong, and Singapore there is considerably more order while driving, but in almost every other place we went the amount of people who took road signs and signals as suggestions far outnumbers those that followed them, leading to overall “chaos” most of the time. You can adapt to chaos though. Traffic here is a flow, and as my friend Jon Dallas said about Vietnamese traffic, “There’s always room for you”. Horns indicate you’re there, you’re turning, you’re in someone’s blind spot, or less frequently that you’re pissing someone off. While Malaysia and Cambodia had considerably less horns blowing even these places are uproarious compared to the way we use horns in the states.
Proof Vietnam is made for bikes. and bikes love to use their horns

Walking across the street was a challenge that started in our first country, Korea. You just learn that you move with the flow of traffic and no one wants to hit you, just don’t stutter. Jason would get very frustrated with me if I started panicking in the middle of the road, because it’s more dangerous to slow down or stop completely while crossing than move at a steady pace. Be predictable and you won’t get hurt.

Walking along a roadside in Malaysia.
It’s OK to be bored, lonely, and unsure, some of the time. My fears about how I’d feel were in some ways spot on and in other ways self induced. I have had moments of deep and utter boredom. “How?!” I hear you asking. Because, we have had so much downtime that we’ve spent days just sitting in hotel rooms, only leaving once per day to eat or get supplies. Not having a job adds immensely to your “time”. Having no hobby increases this into new dimensions of ennui. Of course we saw amazing sites and had many days of what seemed like endless travel and adventure, but between those we waited. We waited in airports for hours on end because we’re always early to flights. We sat and stared at the walls (read: internet) because we decided there was a greater need to save money than going out and doing one more expensive excursion. We did miss going seeing things I’d have loved to see, like the country of Myanmar or other parts of Indonesia, and there were a few temples, waterfalls, and caves that would have put a little more magic into the trip, but we still found plenty to keep occupied with along the way. I wish I could say I found a better way to occupy my restless mind, but I haven’t, and it’s a struggle I hope is soon alleviated with the faster pace that Europe is going to provide.
When I’m bored I can remember I was here.
You’re never going to get it “right”. I’ve been craving bigger travel challenges lately. I have a friend who’s hiking the Pacific Crest Trail and I’m madly jealous. She’s going to sleep under the stars, play in the woods, survive on her own will and trail magic. How cool! If I keep up at this logic I’ll never be “happy” with our trip. If I want deeper challenges, now that our trip has become easier due to greater experience, than I need to build that in. Every trip could have been better, had more fun, more relaxation or excitement or adventure, but if you don’t accept that it’s going just fine the way it is you’ll never be happy. Be happy where you are or what’s the point of going anywhere or seeing anything new if it’s never enough?
It’s worth it. So many people tell me “I wish I could travel” and, while finances can absolutely hold you back, it’s really an inability to plan or a lack of motivation that keeps them stuck. I met a 78 year old man traveling solo in Malaysia. I met an Egyptian Muslim women traveling for four months in India by herself. I’ve seen a couple who were both in wheelchairs on the beach of Malaysia, drinking cocktails and talking to locals. If you want to go to Southeast Asia it’s not a matter of money, once you buy your flight over, but more so a matter of how far you’re willing to leave your cushy comfort zone. Believe me, I didn’t want to go! I understand the draws of comfort and stability. But, I’m glad I did and I know people who tell me they “can’t” most likely could and just aren’t finding the motivation to push through and make it happen. If you want to go, you should commit to it. If you don’t really want to go, that’s OK too, but don’t let yourself hold you back if it’s what you truly desire.

I could tell you more lessons that I’ve learned about myself and my travels. I could celebrate or complain. But, I’ll leave it here for now, because I need to leave at midnight to catch this flight to Greece at 6:20 a.m. tomorrow morning. See you in the EU!

Coconut trees standing tall, bearing their heavy fruits
Banana bunches reaching desperately for the ground
Buzzing mosquitos, barking dogs, beeping cars
Bitter melon and sour soups
The inescapable heat that leads to endless summer blossoms
Water in, sweat it out
Drink it in again
With urgency now, to quench your thirst
Drink it in one last time
Realizing not the depths you’ve dove
Or how much you may miss this moment
Years from now
As the details turn to dust
All you have is that feeling in your chest
About how it once was
About how good it felt to be

15 Apr

By Jen Hawse on Uncategorized tagged food, India, maps, performance art, religion, Water

My Foolish Indian Surprise

I knew I’d be wrong the minute I started having doubts. That’s how it always works. I say to myself, “I won’t like this new place because…” either out loud or in my mind and then, after a few days of settling in, I find my place and start to think about how I don’t want to leave. Can I tell you how many places on this journey I’ve thought, “Noo… but I don’t want to go now!” after saying, “Meh… it’ll be OK” at the beginning or even fully flat out disliking a place from day one?! It’s a pattern that I’ve begun to recognize and now take note of, but it still held true for India, and I should have known better.

We’re in India, Kerala, Cochin, Fort Kochi. This region has been a prominent spice exporter since 3000 BCE; it is ancient. Kerala is the “spice garden of India” and was an important trading location on Silk Road. For years, I’ve had an interest in maps and the ancient spice trade, so I was very excited to learn I’d be coming to one of the historical landmarks and origination points. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to find any “tours” so to speak that explained the spice trade’s history. At least I can taste the spices in person as I eat throughout the city!

By Whole_world_-_land_and_oceans_12000.jpg: NASA/Goddard Space Flight Centerderivative work:Splettederivative work:Bongan - Whole_world_-_land_and_oceans_12000.jpgSilk_route.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=35995542 — We are staying in the southeast of India and are the blue point on the coast.

Kerela, as a state in India, is one of the country’s most well educated, healthiest, religiously diverse places with some of the highest gender equality ratings to boot. There’s far less poverty here than in the rest of India, so the stereotypes that I’ve heard about begging has hardly rang true. Truth be told, it’s so similar to some parts of Southeast Asia it’s like we’ve just moved sideways, but definitely not into an entirely new dimension. Most people speak English and it’s often far better we’ve experienced in Southeast Asia. There are even two bookstores here where I’ve purchased inexpensive classical English literature short novels, The Land that Time Forgot and The Old Man and the Sea. Tis good to read real books again!

There’s not too much to do here in Kerala, but that’s OK by me. Earlier this week we did a Backwater non-mechanised boat tour, where we snaked through small canals and struggled against the winds on open waters with just bamboo sticks to move the boat downstream. Along the way we visited a traditional village where we had our lunches served on palm leaves. The food was some of the best I’ve had thus far! We also visited a small scale calcium carbonate processing “factory”, run by just a few men covered who were covered in white powder from their work, where they take spent oyster shells and naturally turn them into calcium oxide and hydroxide. In another location we witnessed how rope making is done through soaking coconut husks and then twisting the dried fiber together. The ropes are very strong and used throughout India. The best part of the day, however, was meeting fellow travelers. We had so many great conversations with interesting people and it really did refresh my spirit. One of the couples even invited Jason and I out for beers that night, which I obliged and enjoyed a beautiful sunset paired with even deeper conversation.

Yesterday, after Jason told me he wouldn’t be eating lunch, I ventured out to seek sustenance. I have to eat twice a day… it’s just the way I am. Or at least snack a few times! Regardless, I stumbled into this place called, “Upstairs Italian Restaurant”, even though I was eating at the ground floor cafe. I ordered a chai masala tea and a masala omelet and began reading my book. A man came in holding framed pictures and started asking me what I thought of them. At first dismissive, being a woman alone in India, I eventually started chatting with him after he asked the easy question of, “Where are you from?” Turns out, he’s been all over the world and lived in LA for a few years, working at a Sheraton Hotel as a chef. He’d also cooked in Rome for several years, which translated into his love of Italian foods and thus his speciality restaurant. He said every September and October he shuts down and travels. He’s interested in going to Mongolia next, or studying pastry making in England. After nearly three hours of conversation I realized I needed to head back to the homestay to get ready for the dance!

Traditional dance seems to exist all over the world and we’re lucky to have witnessed two dances thus far on the trip. First, we watched a Balinese dance that enchanted and in some ways spooked you with their rapid eye movements, intense makeup and costuming, and jutting arms. Here in Kochi, it’s much the same. Both dances come from a Hindu tradition, so they share many similarities. There are no words spoken during these performances, only music. During the Kochi performance one of the actors was permitted a tiny meep-like noise that made me nearly squeal with excitement every time he did it. It’s a performance art that I doubt I’ll see anywhere else.

On Friday, we head to Mumbia, formerly known as Bombay (India is taking the name back over as Bombay was a British term). It’s a city with 20.7 million people. It won’t be the most densely populated city we’ve visited as that honor squarely goes to Tokyo with 37.8 million people. Delhi is a solid second with 24.9 million, but we won’t be heading there. Mumbai is going to be starkly different than quite, quaint Kochi. I still have doubts that I’m going to enjoy it there, but it’ll only be for four days and then we head to Greece!