Dec. 26th remembered

This note has nothing to do with my Next Big Adventure but I need to take a minute to look back on what some of my past adventures have allowed to me see and experience.

I remember Dec. 26, 2004. My family and I booked a fabulous all inclusive Christmas vacation to the Dominican Republic. The resort was buzzing as guests milled back and forth from the news on all of the TVs to peering out at the calm, blue sea that was our hotel front. Trying to understand the devastation of those SE Asian countries as we all prepared for a day of sun and swimming was next to impossible. The hesitation for water activities increased as the day wore on and the newsfeeds rolled in.

I remember Dec. 26, 2005. I had been in Thailand for two months and had overcome the tear-jerking, nausea causing culture shock by this point, and had started my love obsession with this country and its people. We were on a break from our school and my dear friend Joanna and I were spending a few days on the beaches of Ton Sai and Railay along the coast of South Thailand to celebrate our Western holiday. A fabulous Christmas dinner the night before left some of our friends slightly incapacitated for most of the morning. Dec. 26 also happens to be Jo's birthday. I decorated the door and porch of the hut where Jo was soundly sleeping off the previous night's festivities and I hiked through the jungle up over the rocky barrier that separates the two beaches. Railay was usually pretty deserted early in the mornings so I wasn't surprised to see that indescribable white sand wide open for my sun bathing.

Shortly after I settled down to bake in the Thai heat, I noticed people gathering near the water line. More and more people, not in a group, but kind of standing side by side, along the shore. Thais and white folk alike slowly made their way to the edge of the water, quietly, staring out to sea. Curiosity overcame me and I had to see what was going on. Just before I reached the water, the realization of the date and time and what exactly was happening came rushing together for me. As I approached the growing line of people, I saw that everyone was holding hands. I quietly became part of the line, took someone's hand as another took mine, and we all stood there, no words, no sound but the gentle breathing of the soft waves on the softer sand. I don't remember if songs were sung or prayers were said, but I remember standing there for a very long time and trying to imagine, but failing miserably, how this flat, inviting, warm, salty vacation destination had devastated this part of the country only one short year ago. The memories, however, were vivid for some as told by the tears on many faces that day.

A few days later, Joanna and I moved on to Phi Phi as the stories and tales continued. Railay, being underdeveloped and on the mainland no longer showed the scars of the deadly wave and was quick to rebuild. Phi Phi, however, was not so lucky. Evidence of how the wave had attacked this small, open island from both sides was everywhere and still a very real problem. Talking to diveshop employees and locals who had survived the ordeal but lost everything else was overwhelming. Despite the vivid descriptions and stories, it is still impossible to imagine.

Then finally, this past year, May 2009, I had the chance to visit Northern Sumatra. I went for the diving and had quite honestly forgotten about the effects that the tsunami had on this part of the world. Until I realized that I would be taking the bus to Banda Aceh. Banda Aceh. I don't think there's a soul in the world who doesn't know this name, this place. I first heard it in Dec. 2004, I first saw it in May 2009. While billions of relief and aid dollars have helped to rebuild this place and despite the 40C heat that seems to beat in on you from every direction, I felt chills up my spine as the water came into view. The water off of Banda Aceh is big. Open and wild and big. Bits of land creep along the coastline reaching out to that fear commanding Indian Ocean.

Crossing that ocean on a ferry over to Pulau Weh in the calm of day, looking back onto the mainland of Banda Aceh, you could see how flat everything was. No trees, no tall buildings, and shiny new rooves as far back as more than 5 miles from the shore. It was absolutely intimidating. I asked for and was told more tales of devastation and survival on the small island of Pulau Weh, everywhere continuing to rebuild. Even being there, it was impossible to comprehend what had happened that day.

I don't know if it's okay to say that I've been "lucky" to see some of these magnificent people and places that have been completely reshaped because of the angry water five years ago, but I know I am humbled to have seen strength and resiliency unmatched on our side of the world. Dec. 26. And life goes on...