You Did What?

Even though I travelled extensively in New Zealand -- the land of crazy, thrill-seeking activities -- I'd say the most dangerous thing I've done so far on this trip is eat oysters from a sidewalk vendor in Bangkok.

Every now and then I get these ideas in my head that I want to do something radical. Just today I considered shaving my head (this was borne of having continual bad hair days). Other times the piercing of the navel comes up, then I remember what my stomach looks like. And sometimes I want to do something that challenges my zone of comfort.

For example -- and this will hardly seem like a daring matter to most of you -- I finally rode a mountain bike when Jenny and I were in New Zealand. To appreciate this you must understand that I am a Certified Bike Wimp (Deborah Koch, CBW). I must have had a major bike accident as a kid or something. Up until recently, I only rode bikes on flat surfaces with no cars around. But I managed this bike without falling off AND went across a very narrow plank bridge without falling in the water! Due to this success, I actually rode a bike on a road while in Australia.

I really would have taken surfing lessons in Australia (especially if I could have been assured that the gorgeous Taal would have been my teacher!), but the nursing of the toe intervened. I had a few moments in New Zealand when I actually entertained notions of doing this:

But when I got there and looked down, there wasn't one nanosecond of consideration. (This is one fear that I don't think I need to overcome.) Others, however, were more adventurous.

I didn't have any problems signing up for "canyoning," however. In this NZ activity you rappell (also called abseiling) down cliffs, slide down waterfalls, ride in the water through narrow canyons, and jump into natural pools from very high (or at least it seemed to me!) places. It was that last activity that had me scared and having to do calming breathing before I could actually jump (unlike my mother who will jump off of anything). It was mainly the fear of hitting the rocks on the way down that made me hesitate. But I was determined to do it precisely because it scared me. That I didn't want to be called a sissy!

But the thing that I am most proud of is that I willingly went into one of the tunnels that the Viet Cong dug during the war (more on all of this in another story). Remember, I have major claustrophobia. I think this dates back to my birth when I got stuck in the birth canal. ("Help! I can't move! I can't breathe! Get me outta here!!" They had to use forceps, which may explain a lot.) Here I am before; I think an after picture would have been more telling because it really unnerved me. I insisted on being the last one in because no way would I have people on each side of me. But the folks in front of me kept stopping to take pictures and whenever I was unmoving, I panicked. Thus, I was only able to do one section and had to use one of the exits provided for clausties such as me.

I think the guide must have been really worried about that butt getting through!

One of the things I'm discovering about this trip is that I am doing things that I am afraid of -- and surviving. For example, I was very afraid of going into Seoul, Korea during a very long layover there. I had no guidebook, no map, no comprehension of the language or alphabet, and no experience negotiating Asian cities. But I did it and it emboldened me for the next city, Bangkok, which almost made me unafraid of Saigon. Almost. The thought of Saigon had me very frightened, but I took off my jewelry, wore my neck safe, and survived.

Many people told me how brave I was to undertake this trip. And it didn't feel brave at the time; it was just something I had to do. But as each day unfolds and I manage it (sometimes well, sometimes poorly, but managed all the same) -- especially here in Southeast Asia -- I recognize that the courage lies not in the action itself, but in the fact of an action that is taken in spite of the fear.