While trekking around Angkor Wat, many children spend their afternoons watching the tourists walk by. This little girl was swinging on a nearby vine and proved to be just as picturesque as the ancient ruins surrounding her.

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Much encouraged us that we were at the right spot and pointed towards what appeared to be a mountain. “Climb to top” he explained. We looked at one another, pulled out a flashlight and began our ascent to the unknown. We hastily scurried up a completely dark trail in the forest- unsure of how long the journey was going to be. Being a complete wimp at anything related to horror or thriller movies, I was completely on edge and jumped at every sound or perceived movement from the unseen creatures surrounding us.

The light was shifting as we continued our climb and soon we began to see the silhouetted outlines of trees on either side. Just as soon as I was convinced we were lost in the jungle, the shadows changed from trees to temple structure and we could glean that there was a large monument before us. Unsure of where to ascend, we shined our flashlight on an incredibly steep stairway that suggested the ancient Khmer community had thighs of steel. On either side were ominous statues which still in shadow, simply appeared as figures of danger that we were happy to rush by until more light confirmed that none were alive and poised to capture us as we passed.

When reaching the peak and greeting more sunlight, we were able to feast our eyes on a 360 degree view of all the ruins in the area. Still no tourists or guides had joined us and we had a few quiet moments to feel the breadth of history that surrounded us. By about 6am, “the group” had arrived- a sum total of 10 people on a temple mount. One gentleman was from Stockton, CA- a town just a few miles from where I grew up. “Fancy meeting you here” we joked, amused that our paths had crossed on the other side of the planet rather than on the familiar highways we grew up driving on.

As if following some unsaid rules, we all let each other take our own space and absorb the beauty surrounding us. In this rare moment of silence, I breathed in the still cool morning air and felt extremely humbled and blessed to be standing and witnessing the sun’s rays hit the structures once flourishing with activity. It happened to be a cloudy day, so the sun rather enveloped the entire sky than peak stringent rays out from behind the horizon. The diffused pale blue light echoed the cold stone’s rigid façade and my camera enjoyed attempting to find the right settings to capture the beauty.

The pictures are beautiful, but the feeling of majesty and humility is a beauty that no machine can capture other than my mind. Standing there, I was reminded of my ascent to Masada in Israel so many years ago, or the recent sunrise reflections on the Himalayas that we experienced in Ngarkot, Nepal. While this oft-late-rising traveler hopes to witness many more sunrises in future destinations, I will always count this particular quiet ascension of a mountain and the sun as a moment I will treasure.

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While staying at the fantastic Manichan guest house in Luang Prabang, Laos- I learned of a special package deal with an organization called “Elephant Village” just a short 30 minute drive away. The space was founded by a German man who was inspired by the plight of the endangered mammals and whom then created a refuge for retired female elephants rescued from the damaging logging industry.

We decided to do the “mahout” package which gives you special training to become an elephant guide (which is what mahout means). We learned about the health & well-being of the animals, their habitat in Laos and surrounding Southeast Asian countries, learned to communicate with them using special commands, and fed them. This was far more intimate than the deals you’d see in Bangkok or the distant vantage point an errant circus might provide.

Getting up on an Elephant is certainly not easy. They are tall, you know. In my opinion, they also find it just as humorous as the rest of us do when a human struggles to swing a leg over and then hoist his or herself up onto the neck of a beast that obviously wasn’t designed for our transportation pleasure. There are no saddles when you are mahout. Once you’ve achieved the summit, it’s a wonder anyone would ever get down. The view is amazing and the sense of humility and respect you have for an elephant is immediate.

We walked for an hour with our elephants in their local habitat of trees and riverbank. We took a break for a complimentary lunch after first feeding our elephants their meal of bananas fresh from the trees. Then we took our big baby girls for a swim and a bath. It is at this point that the humor of an elephant becomes increasingly clear. My elephant decided to completely submerge herself in the water and considering I was riding on her head, you can imagine that this of course meant that I went under as well.

Where is my elephant? UNDER ME in the water!!

After falling off her head I could have sworn I heard her laugh at me. The current of the Mekong is not to be taken lightly and I think she let me struggle just long enough to make me panic and provide her a giggle before stepping forward and offering her ear to me (which is the climbing tool). There were only four of us in our group so we had a grand laugh as we watch each others’ elephants spray us with their trunks, dived off their backs and scrubbed them in appreciation.

The guides at this particular camp are also fantastic young men and added tremendously to the experience. They are completely attached to the animals, cooing at them and joking with them and each other. One mahout is assigned to one elephant for life, so their connection is palpable and appreciated. The girls are so well taken care of that the slightly expensive price (just under $70) for the experience is so worth it knowing that it goes to giving elephants such a fantastic retirement.

After bath time, we hopped into a small fishing boat and took a 15-minute journey up the Mekong to the Tae San waterfalls. It’s dry season at this time of year and even then, the beauty of the water trickling along the limestone was fantastic. What I mean to say is, I dove off a waterfall and hiked into the mountain and drank Beer Lao while thinking I was the luckiest girl in the world.

I’ve been blessed to travel all around the world. I have so much more to see and experience. Even knowing that there are so many adventures ahead of me, I can’t help but feel secure that this day in Laos will always be a favorite.

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Admitting this both to myself and to my readers is obviously difficult, as you can tell by my disclaimer. I fancy myself a robust international citizen, a lover of world cultures, and most importantly: a documentary filmmaker. These identifiers signify a necessary rapture and awe at all things related to getting from point A to point B. Alas, my truth is that I do not feel rapture for three particular things that are inherently part of my travels:

o Long travel times
o Physical burden
o Poverty

When I glamorize the journeys that I take, I often ignore this part of the story. I adore the experience and the lessons that I learn so much that I forget that they aren’t always handed to me in neat little packages. Sometimes they are downright painful. Let’s break these things down a bit.

LONG TRAVEL TIMES

Being that the majority of my long-term travel takes place in far-off countries, it’s a wonder I’m ever surprised at how long it takes to get to these places. Crossing the pacific alone takes at least 10 hours and then you have any number of connecting flights to get to your final destination.

Because I’ve yet to strike it rich (notice my purposeful insertion of hope here), I have never traveled in first class on one of these trips. Every time I board an international flight and walk past the reclining lounges and see the premiere travelers being handed hot towels, I cringe with jealousy. I fidget over to my economy class seat and stuff myself into the allotted space. At least most airlines have private television screens nowadays so that I can catch up on all the movies that I’ve missed or never heard of.

No matter how good the selection (I caught up with Salt and The Social Network on this last flight), I get bored and cramped. I’m rarely a good sleeper on planes, so I tend to be fully awake and alert. Every baby cry. Every passenger getting up to use the restroom. I experience them all. I wish planes could travel faster.

Being in Laos, where I currently write from, I experienced the most taxing one-way journey of my life. I boarded a minivan and was driven for 10 hours through the Northern Laotian mountains at high speed. They literally pass out plastic bags before departure should your stomach not be able to keep up with the engine. There is a flight that goes the same distance, but it’s expensive and we’re in high season. Unfortunately, there is no way to get out of this place other than by the same method in reverse. This time we’re doing a “VIP bus ride.” I’ll let you know if that’s any different than the minivan.

PHYSICAL BURDEN

This provides a perfect segue into the physical toll that travel can have on your body. I recently wrote about injuring my knee, but I’m talking about more than that here. Sitting still for extended periods of time in cramped spaces is hardly what our limbs were designed to do. Walking for extended periods while carrying huge backpacks (and in my case extra bags of camera gear) is not what my back tells me it wants either. On each trip I take, my feet suffer greatly from blisters and dry skin.

Don’t even get me started about the stomach ailments, air pollution, and coughing/sneezing/runny nosing that is almost certain to accompany your voyage. The desire for a steaming hot shower can be overwhelming. I know- even I’m sick of hearing myself complain. But on some of the trips I’ve taken, it has dawned on me that I am lucky to have two working feet and ankles that can make it through almost anything. I’d rather try a new food and honor my hosts’ hospitality than decline in order to avoid getting sick. After all, I got to borrow from The Devil Wears Prada and repropagate a familiar quote recently by declaring “I’m only one bout of Delhi Belly away from my goal weight.”

The consequential weight loss while on the road is something I could never achieve if I was home actually trying to shed a few pounds, so at least that’s a plus. I also enjoy the pride I feel when I’ve successfully gotten to another country with all my bags and bones still intact. My legs get more toned and my arms seems to more easily swing my massive pack into it’s familiar position behind an ever-stronger shoulder.

Did I mention I also am severely allergic to mosquito bites? Enough with my complaining. Travel means moving- and moving your body takes work. If the travel I am doing does not involve swaying on a hammock (which I’ve really got to learn to incorporate more), then I can’t be surprised when I am physically exhausted at the tail end of a trip.

POVERTY

If the last section was about the physical toll on your body, then this section is about the toll that travel takes on your mind. My current journey and revisit to the land of Nepal sunk this message home more than ever.

When visiting the third world, there are many things you might expect to see- but many more that you can never be prepared for. Malnutrition, illness, and poverty are words on paper to most of us in the Western Hemisphere. Sometimes we watch the history channel or read about wars in books. Seeing these people and the ravages of nature and government is a lesson that no television screen or history book will ever adequately capture.

There are so many lessons to learn while witnessing the results of poverty. The most obvious is just how little it takes to make a difference- a simple smile can change lives. Looking more inward, there is also an immediate sense of appreciation for the joys that our own privileged lives provide us. We fight about silly things back home. We wage culture wars at a time when some people are living in real ones. Entire populations and their offspring are on the other side of the planet suffering and we are quick to complain if our latte isn’t extra hot.

These latter elements of travel are the ones that aren’t often pictured on the cover of Lonely Planet Travel Guides. The destinations many of us grew up dreaming of going to aren’t filled with killing fields, destitute families, and children who appear half their age because they’ve never eaten a proper meal.

Something in my soul continues to guide me towards these communities, however- those who are ignored or don’t know how to get featured on the evening news back home. I bring my camera in the hope that their faces will touch the hearts of my friends and family. And though I know that they have irreversibly changed my life, sometimes I hate to see their pain. I leave knowing that I will return to a different place- full of amenities and things that are so easily taken for granted. It takes me a long time to heal when I get back into my safe place and begin to process all that my eyes have seen. And it’s hard.

IT’S ALL WORTH IT

It would be inappropriate to have this post stand on it’s own as part of a travel blog. It’s easy to complain about the things that make travel hard. Sometimes people don’t talk about them. Sometimes it seems ungrateful to write such things while being in countries others only dream they could visit.

I will happily cramp myself into a minivan for 10 hours in order to witness the sunset on the Mekong River. I will endure freezing cold showers for weeks at a time so that I can see the faces of the children in Nepal whom I love more than I can express. Four connecting flights and three sicknesses will not keep me away from experiencing the truly amazing food that is in Thailand.

Let me drive home my point by saying this: Getting to see amazing things on this planet is certainly a luxury. But it’s not always easy.

##  I’d love to read your comments on this one. Are there particular things that make travel difficult for you? What elements of travel (if any) make a trip not worth it?  Write in the comment section below with your thoughts…##

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This week’s photo comes to us from my travels in Hong Kong. The city is situated on a very steep island and is consistently modern in its appearance with high rise buildings cutting in line for your view of the mountaintop. Ironically, on “Hollywood Road” there is an ancient temple called Man Mo that business-suit-clad residents briefly stop into before their days’ business. In the center of the temple is this array of incense spires that you see pictured here. The lighting was pretty spectacular that day and the smoke added a nice affect for the camera.

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Arriving right on schedule, Ramesh picked us up and drove to the top of the hill/mountain in darkness. The road was super windy and being that it was just after New Year’s and at a high elevation (7100 feet), it was extremely cold. We arrived just in time (approx 6:15 am) and ascended the stairwell while wrapped in yak wool, mittens, double socks, and hats. We were still freezing, but remained hopeful that the view was going to be worth the chills and missed sleep. We were encouraged simply by how pleasant and clean the air was at this particular elevation.

As the sun peaked its way through the clouds, our sleepy eyes opened to absolute magnificence. It was the most beautiful sunrise I’ve seen, I think. Ever. The Himalayas were on one side, the clouds and sun on the other behind a string of prayer flags. I had my camera. It was absolutely spectacular. We did some timelapse photography that I can’t wait to see. We watched the frost melt off the handrails. We stood in silence and simply looked.

Then, inspired by the photographic opportunities, my friend Noam and I decide to climb to the top of a viewing tower (for tourists) to get an unobstructed 360 degree view. It’s an old rickety tower, but everything in Nepal is unstable, so why not climb right? We get to the top of the tower and are gazing at the most gorgeous views we’ve probably ever seen. Noam actually utters the words “If I died right now, I could go peacefully knowing this is the last thing my eyes had seen.”

We pull out our cameras to take pics. First Noam takes a picture of me and then it’s my turn to take his. I grab his camera, look through the view finder at gorgeous views and suddenly, I fall HARD. I was completely confused. My foot had literally gone through a hole in the ground of the tower and I swear I saw my life flash before my very eyes. Everyone at the viewing spot looked up at this tower and can see my one leg dangling through. Noam is laughing because he feels awkward when there is conflict and everyone else is super quiet waiting to see my reaction.

I freeze there waiting to see if I can still feel my toes and after realizing that I can… I cry and laugh at the same time. I was in total shock that I was still alive, had actually fallen so hard, and that everyone was staring at me. Whether adrenaline or denial, I somehow refused to let it stop me and we progressed through our day (and now into Southeast Asia).

I wanted to share the masterpiece that lovely viewing tower left on my knee. I’ve never seen a more gentle transition from midnight blue to fuscia in my life. Almost as beautiful as the sunrise that inspired it. After freezing, I write this post from gorgeous weather near the border of Thailand and Laos where it is finally warm enough to wear shorts and I am proudly sporting this multicolored badge of honor on my left leg.

Though I absolutely could have died, I didn’t. I’m alive. Lucky to be alive. And as Noam said- lucky to have seen a view that fulfills one of those moments you hope you have before it’s too late to appreciate them.

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Gorgeous carved temple structures at Pashu Pati, Nepal

Americans have an unfortunate way of dealing with death, in my opinion. We fight its arrival and are subsequently unprepared and incredibly burdened when the day arrives to depart our bodies. Many of us have varying religious beliefs that dictate how we respond to the passing of a loved one… but I have never seen a culture more beautifully respond to death than the Nepalese.

Outside Kathmandu, on the banks of a small river and an enclave of carved temples is a place called “Pashu Pati.” It is here that the Hindu people of Nepal come to bid their loved ones “namaste”. Just before someone departs this earth, the family gathers in hospice beds along the riverbank and prays and coddles the soon to be departed. Once death has rested the soul of their loved one, the family begins a slow and loving process of preparing the body for cremation.

When visiting the banks of this river, a visitor is privileged to witness the love and care that the Nepalese give to those they love. Only those in mourning and of the Hindu religion are on the side of the river where the cremations take place and all others are invited to watch and visit from across the small riverbank.

A woman pays her respects to a dignitary

From the viewing side, you can see that the bodies are painstakingly prepared for their greatest journey by being bathed, covered in mala (flowers) and tika (dye for blessings). Draped in silk from head to toe, the families and friends of the dearly departed each take a turn bestowing blessings and thanks upon the body of the deceased before it is lovingly placed atop wood and lit aflame.

There are some difficult realities to face when visiting this special place. The initial realization that the smoke in the air is ash of human bodies never gets easier. Make sure to bring masks to avoid breathing in more than the lungs have bargained for. The awkwardness of feeling that you are present at someone else’s funeral is also worth being acknowledged. Match that with the unfortunate reality that this sacred place has become a tourist attraction and get ready to be accosted by women selling necklaces and children begging you to take their photos for the price of a couple rupees. The river is not very clean and the unfortunate truth that the richer the deceased, the farther up the river they are cremated doesn’t always sit well. Even in death there is a separation between the rich and the poor.

A Sadhu

The most heinous and unfortunate spectacles are the supposedly sacred Sadhu or holy men that walk the banks of the river. Infamously unclothed and covered in paint and dreadlocks, these “sacred” figures have even graced the cover of Lonely Planet guides to Nepal. Alas, when you realize these “holy” figures have taken a vow of poverty but will happily pose for you in a picture for a fee, you wonder what they spend their money on and just how seriously that vow of poverty is.

After taking your pictures and swallowing the somberness of the space, I encourage you to remember how beautiful the moment is for those individuals on the other side of the river. Their dearly departed are surrounded by love. The bodies are literally covered in respect and praise and the community surrounding the ceremony ensures that the soul departing is never alone. I think Pashu Pati is absolutely beautiful and well worth the 500 rupees (approx. US$7) that it will cost you to visit.

Below in the comments section, I’m curious- how do you think you would feel visiting a place like this? How does your faith tradition differ from the Hindu people of Nepal?

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Mina looks on as I film, courtesy Heartbeats

In some cases, I enjoy this distance as it allows me to avoid facing truth. In the case of poverty, I am especially well-trained at maintaining a professional distance from the faces on the other side of the lens. If I spend too much time thinking about the stories and the pain that exist, my all-encompassing sense of empathy would prevent me from getting the job done. Such is the life of a documentarian.

For the first time in my memory, I had to walk away from the camera this week. After spending 7 days filming the beautiful children that participated in the Heartbeats Foundation Music Center program that is the subject of my current documentary, I was apparently in complete denial. I could look through the lens of my video camera and lovingly capture the moving images of these beautiful children without hesitation.

When it came time for the members of the Heartbeats group to leave yesterday, it all changed. The children had been inspired by music and were deeply saddened at the news that their new friends from America were going to leave. We expected tears, but I personally did not expect Mina.

Helen & Mina, photo courtesy Heartbeats Foundation

I happened to be pointing my camera in that same direction but when I had adjusted my settings and pressed record and then looked into the lens, I had to walk away. I simply could not distant myself any longer.

My dear and amazing colleague Noam stepped in for me, the cameras kept rolling, and I went into a corner and sobbed. The unfortunate repercussion of the lens preventing me from seeing the truth was that I was very suddenly struck with just how profound the week’s activities were. How massive an impact Heartbeats had made in just a short time. I was literally overwhelmed with emotion and had to step outside my professional self and allow my true and emotional self the opportunity to see with my own eyes.

I am so privileged to meet these children. To inspire them and be inspired in return. I will never know their truth, and no matter how fantastic a filmmaker I set out to be, I know that my lens will never be able to convey just how special they are. It is only with my heart and my eyes that I can truly experience their magic.

I hope that what my lens captures will be enough to have you all know that there are a group of kids that exist on the other side of the world that are so full of love and music that no lens will ever be able to show you. Please just take my word and know that I am grateful for the opportunity I have been given by Heartbeats to witness their magic with my own eyes.

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Returning to a country that I love so much has been more than fulfilling for me. I wake up, look out a window and see prayer flags flying in the breeze. I spend my days with camera in hand and attempt to capture the stories of children who’s lives inspire me. By night I watch the sunset reflect off the snow-white Himalayas and breathe in the honor that has been bestowed on me to witness all of this.

It is not always easy to do this work. Within 24 hours of my arrival I was gravely ill and lost a night of sleep to the dreaded Delhi Belly sickness. Our gear is constantly in use and thus constantly in need of recharging, but the inconstant and pouty electrical system refuses to keep us charged. Our equipment is not as reliable as it is when plugged in at home with a Best Buy nearby in case of technical difficulties. I had to ask my colleague tonight to remind me that I love the challenge. And I do.

What I am incapable of putting into words is how much this means to me to be here. I was accidentally introduced to Nepal just over one year ago and to be here again supporting the children of this country feels both overwhelming and dreamlike. To be tasked with the responsibility of capturing the images and feeling of a country and a people that are so giving, so open, and so inspirational is often lost on me. I know it is impossible to truly “get” just how amazing it is, so I have to trust that what I bring to your eyes is in itself worthwhile. I wish you all could be here with me to witness it with your own lens.

In the meantime, I gift to you some of the images that my lens has captured:

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