Curry and Christmas

Today was excellent. A good start, I'm thinking. I wrote a poem over lunch, I chased the sunset down on skis, Carrie (my housemate and oh so good friend) and I made Thai curry from scratch (*groan. wasn't the best, I'm not gonna lie) and then we rearranged our living room and decorated for Christmas! Inherited 'fake' Christmas tree, semi-terrible curry and all... I feel accomplished, challenged, and I'm actually having a load of fun : ).

twenty-five

Last year during the week prior to my twenty-fourth birthday, I knocked on the doors of stranger's houses to ask, "what is your advice to a girl who has never been 24 before?" I wrote the various words of wisdom down in a notebook, which is now tucked away in the archives of my Ontario home. I spent the afternoon of my twenty-third birthday making bamboo fish with children in northern Thailand. My twenty-second birthday I remember as being a turning point; I decided that I would not be ashamed of the attention being pointed at me, and instead intentionally and thoroughly enjoyed the love showered on me by my friends, and family. It was a good turning point. However, every birthday is a bit of an identity crisis for me: am I where I want to be? Is this where I thought I would be at this age? Though I have a strongly held belief that our notion of age-appropriateness is determined by social constructs, I still struggle with feeling worthy and successful each third of December. This year, I find myself nestled in an orchard in the lovely Okanagan Valley in which I share an apartment with a high school friend. I work as a ski instructor/wax hound at Sovereign Lake Nordic Centre North of here, and enjoy the crisp blue skies and crunching snow high on the mountain each day above Vernon. This year, I've decided to challenge myself: twenty-five things to do before I turn twenty-five.

Incidentally, Dec 3rd is in 6 days. : )

1. join a flash mob
2. make Thai curry from scratch
3. ski with a flask and friends
4. begin/acquire a sourdough starter
5. make a recipe off of the CBC website
6. make beer
7. tye-dye something
8. light a candle each night for supper (for the week)
9. decorate my first Canadian apartment for Christmas : )
10. learn to ride the rollers (bicycle inside)
11. learn to can
12. make Christmas postcards
13. write a poem over lunch every day
14. take note of the sunset each evening (for the week)
15. try a new drink
16. make 25 Christmas cookies
17. plant something
18. take someone for a drink
19. go to an art gallery in Kelowna
20. learn a new game
21. make an advent wreath
22. bring baked goods to work
23. experience a new Christmas tradition
24. 25 intentional acts of kindness
25. blog about attempting twenty-five things in the week prior to turning twenty-five

So, there you have it!

Tonight, my housemate, Carrie, and I attended our Swedish friend's Advent gathering where we drank Swedish mulled wine (Gluug?), I learned to play the game Flux, and she told me about the Christmas traditions of Sweden while we listened to Swedish Christmas music.

[ps. this idea was inspired by my one of my fav blogs: www.kfar.blogspot.com]

What do you do to celebrate your birthday? Any suggestions on how I make my quarter-century a future favourite? : ) 

Thalita Shwe's Ministry in the Mae Sot Refugee Camp

On Friday Sept 30th at St. Andrew's Church in Chatsworth, I will be taking up a free will offering in addition to speaking about my time in Thailand and my travels over the last few years. I've chosen Thalita Shwe and her ministry in the Mae Sot Refugee Camp as the receiver of our gifts.

This is the only picture I managed to get of Tae,
in front of the house that she hoped to turn into
a center for meeting, prayer, and training.
She's not a big fan of pictures. 

I first met Thalita (or Taetae), on Christmas Eve in 2009. She had choreographed a Christmas dance with the other women from the Burmese Church I would continue to attend. Though I didn't have the fortune of meeting her that night, she had made a huge impression on me. Fate had it that two days later we were sat next to each other on the same bus heading to Chiang Mai; she because she had missed the earlier bus, and me because I had failed to convince the bus patron to give me a seat in an empty row, in the almost-empty bus.

Passionate about ministry, art, and prayer, Taetae came to Thailand from Burma/Myanmar when she was a girl, had attended University for English and handicrafts, worked as a translator for YWAM teams, plans to build a café/hostel/prayer house/discipleship training center next to the border in Mae Sai, and is currently newly married and living in the refugee camp in Mae Sot where she teaches the young women and widows there to sew and make handicrafts.

This week Taetae wrote:

"I'm still working with women in the refugee camp, they are so happy because they have income even a little money they get is better than have noting to do or no work to do.  thing are slowly moving  because I have no budget enough for the handmade.  this year we only start with handmade cards.  but we would like to do Bible bag or crochet too.  in the future we need sowing machine too."

Mae Sot is on the Eastern side of Thailand

Right now Taetae needs money with which to buy craft supplies such as yarn, paper, material, and even a sewing machine. There are about 25 women who want to learn in order to make a small living in a place where work is nonexistent, but there is not enough room for everyone in her small house; she hopes to one day earn enough money to invest in a bigger bamboo building in order to facilitate every woman who wishes to learn. Her other hope is to donate a pig to the Church she attends in the refugee camp this Christmas, as it can also be used to generate a small income.

I have supported Taetae in the past; I believe in her work, her integrity, and her hopeful yet realistic posture concerning helping the Burmese people. I humbly maintain the hope that I might work beside her someday. She has been my friend and mentor, and I am so honored to be able to ask for prayer and contributions on her behalf.

Blessings,
Nicola

St. Andrews, Sept 30th.

If you're planning to attend the evening event at St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church on Friday, September 30th at 7:30pm, I'd love for you to spend a few minutes to watch one or more of the following videos. 

St. Stephen's University: My school that stretched my mind and my footsteps. 

100 Huntley Street interviews SSU students

Why I got on board, and spent six months volunteering on the border of Thailand and Burma with DEPDC:

DEPDC fights to end Human Trafficking

Feel free to browse previous blogs; though somewhat dated, some say they are interesting ; ). 

I love to speak, share stories, discuss, and answer questions, and am really looking forward to meeting each of you. Stay tuned for information on Thalita Shwe and how she will use the funds raised in the free will offering on September 30th. 

I hope to see you all there!

PS. The reason heaven needs to meet earth in a big, sloppy, wet kiss... and why sometimes I cry:

Modern Slavery - Human Trafficking

'Frisco. home of the beats.

I have one regret in the past ... year or so. That doesn't mean I haven't made mistakes. I have. But I've tried to rebuild/repair bridges soon after I foolishly burn them. Sometimes this makes relationships stronger. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the relationships graduate to the 'grounded in grace' stage, which seems to be a humbling/genuine/i can fall alseep crying on your couch kind of thing. I've made lots of silly decisions, but I can own them and let them go. I have only one regret. I regret not buying a poetry book from a homeless man in San Fransisco. His name is Ricky Teague, and I regret not standing with him for ten more seconds. Truly! Ricky Teague, you'll see him if you go. A voice like a dove and rusty railroad tracks. He tried to sell me the 'street sheet', a 'Frisco newspaper written and edited by the homeless in San Fransisco. Incidentally, my visa had been cancelled and an ATM machine ate my debit card, so I was left in San Fran with the little money I had left from my last transaction a couple days previous in Arcada, Cali. Arcada, where Rachel and I were approached by a couple at a mall who invited us to their beach-side house a couple miles away. Those kind of things happen when you have your house on wheels behind you wrapped up in a pannier. Their porch and windowsills were covered in shells and the like. They served us garlic zuccini and chocolate. On the pier in Frisco I pulled out the 'street sheet' Ricky Taegue had given me - given me, I had no money - and we sat on the papers while sipping red wine and tasting fresh sourough and exquisite cheeses, watching the sun drop below the bridge where the strings of lights glowed across the bay. I packed my bike up in the papers after that, tucked them caringly around the spokes and chain. I didn't read them after that. The funny thing - about trips that don't happen unless you decide to do them - is that the memories grow better with age. I'de pack my life in a panier again in a second. The destination is important (Frisco. home of the beat poets), but the journey - oh, the journey. Seals outside the tent camped above tide pools just outside a cliffed village in the mist; night riding - the unity of teamwork; cycling amongst giants each handplanted by God on rolling mountains; friends on journey and a mission to somewhere.

And now. I struggle to find the balance between inclusivity and boundaries, trust and naivety, risking and guarding. 'Tis the journey. But where, where, am I going?

in a pannier.

Hi friends.

Such a long time.

A future volunteer at DEPDC Thailand had a look at my blog... and is excited to begin her own adventure.

Because mine is finished?

My heart breaks. Unrealized dreams, a hurt that continually seems to break open and infect itself.

Now I'm in BC. There are more Kiwis, Aussies, Brits, Scots, Eastern Indians, Filpinos, and 'Ontaribbles' here than British Columbians. Not an exaggeration. I feel like it's the lush green grass that everyone dreams of from wherever they came from.

I don't think I did, really. I think I just wanted to come and see what all the fuss was about.
I recently read a blog about a girl from Ontario who moved out here for a year, and was disappointed with her disillusionment. Perhaps I feel the same?

A lack of community, a lack of depth. No lack of materialism, moremoremoreishness.

It feels like it's time to go home.

Perhaps it's culture shock? Perhaps, to me, nothing in the world seems to make so much sense as to enable others. What's the point in anything else? You're still going to be bored. If you buy the boat. If you buy the yaht. If you buy the new bike - the grass is still going to be the freaking same colour! Darlin', it's not getting any greener!

I've fallen in love with the beats. The beatitudes are the only thing I'm reading in my Bible right now. Overandoverandoverandoveragain. The beats are a group of individuals lumped together under the name 'beat poet'. The urban beats. The beats from the North Cascades. A kind of contemplitiveness - reminiscient - or similar to - Thomas Merton. A group of more spiritual guys than religious, believing in the beatitudes.

I soaked... soaked in, soaked up, serving the poorest of the poor.
Now I serve the richest. The ones who can afford to pay 9 grand on a couple of kayaks to put on their 60' yaht. Should I laugh? Should I sneer? Should I throw up.

I quit my job. I was really good at it (the job. not quitting.). I remember people's names, what they tell me -so I can ask them about it next time they come in. 'It's a shame Nicola -we really like you here, and my customers really like you here'. The only job that turned me down after an interview was McDonalds. I like working hard. I can't do that job anymore though. I'm sorry. I'm sorry commitment. I tried so very hard. I came out here, when I was offered other better paying jobs, a rewarding writing placement.

Some friends from Ontario are driving out and we're cycling to San Fransisco together.
"Why San Fransisco? Why not san Fransisco, is really the only reason I can give. Destinations for cycling trips are less about the actual destination and more about the journey and the accomplishment when you actually arrive." A.H. (cycling friend. currently en route to BC).

This summer, I have learned how to change a bike tube, how to walk slower to use up time, how to bake a fresh loaf artisan olive bread. I went to Bikram yoga, kayaked ten days in a tow, and have learned to drink lots of water (also to use up time).

I have learned about the Beat poets though, and right now... that seems like a good as reason as any to have come out here. : ).

Maybe I don't need a reason. Maybe... I will just... be : ).

'on the way back'. a lovely concept.

Katie Ironside has just pointed out that my departure from Thailand was exactly a year after I left the first time, with our class at SSU. I suppose this must have some unconscious meaning, yet eludes me at the moment and so will leave it as an interesting anecdote.

I’m currently in transit on my way back to Canada from Thailand. I’m in dreary yet lovely London at the moment, as ‘on the way back’ is a lovely concept when you’re on the other side of the world, and nearly everything except for Vancouver and Hawaii is ‘on the way’. I’m currently visiting with family and friends.

I’m up early this morning, hungry and thinking of all the Thai food I would love to eat... having an imaginary conversation in Thai with a food vendor in my head as I lie in bed, trying to come to terms with invariably losing this language that I’ve worked hard to learn. Such is jetlag. Yet, I did tend to wake up at 6am in Thailand as well.

croissants. yum. much better than green curry in the morning.

I will reserve the next blog for writing about my trip to Laos. Methinks it deserves some blog space : )