with seth in tow, we departed early yesterday morning from bangalore on a long bus ride to the town of mysore. there is a whomping big palace there that they light up at night with about a million incandescent lights. nice to look at, and the street food leading up to the palace is to die for. seriously, readers: when in india (or any country for that matter) go street food. it's cheap, usually fried (read: safe to eat) and it's what the locals eat which means your getting a little culture, too. one more masala dosa or thali with white rice and i'm not going to be pleasant to be around.
we also, at eliot's behest, visited the rail muesem which was dull beyond words. there was a big saloon car that was pretty neat. if you've ever been to see THE THING in arizona, it's a lot like that. but no car hitler owned. or, you know, a MYSTERIOUS THING. a little fed up with crowds, pollution and honking horns, we headed for the evergreen-laden mountain resort of ooty ...
... only to find crowds pollution and honking horns. now granted, the accomodations here are excellent (YWCA for the win), the temperature is downright cool and there are tons of big trees around the lake; but there is still garbage everywhere, pushy hotel barkers and the otherwise lovely lake smells not-so-good. sometimes these indian towns can be a real bummer. there's nice stuff here to be sure, like the tiger reserve we drove through on the way here. we got to see wild peacocks, elephants and monkeys. but even there, the peope through their garbage everywhere. call me an ignorant white male, call me pretencious, hell call me that most begrudged world in the travel community - American - but listen to me: India has got a SERIOUS culture surrounding littering, garbage burning and polution in general that needs to be reigned in NOW. if this place is going to the most populous nation on earth (it will) and one of the most powerful (that too), it's got to do something about a billion peope who urinate and spit anywhere they please and chuck their garbage into rivers flowing through nature preserves. it's cultural, it's systemic and it's pandemic. there, i said my peace.
all of that having been said, each place has redeeming qualities. no, i'll say that another way: most places we've visited have had such an abundance of cool and kindness that it overshadows these other problems. i don't care how crappy Alibag ever gets, The Goddess and Kunal will always provide enough kindness and heart to overtake it (Alibag's actually really nice, just making a point here). Bangalore has horrible traffic - so does Dallas. I have friends in both cities that make them worth putting up with. Wherever there are people, there will be garbage and waste. But there's also hope and family and food - and that makes it worth while. Failure to bend with the bad, means failure to thrive with the good.
moving on, we're going to get up in the hills around ooty tomorrow and hopefully do some serious hiking. being away from my bike for the last 5 days or so has me feeling restless. i started a workout regime just to fill the lack of energetic activity. i am getting lots of good pictures now that we're on foot. next time i hit the internet cafe, i'll bring the cable for my phone and load up the pics.
the two-to-three week culture shock thing has worn off which is nice. for those who have travelled for long periods of time before, you'll probably remember hearing the following timeline as standard traveller psychosis: weeks 1-2, absolute bliss and adventure; week 2.5-3 culture shock; week 3-4 adjustment; week 4+ engrained, calloused. 3 weeks to a month is a perfect time for a vacation. as of tomorrow, i've been out of the country exactly 1 month. starting to wear thin around the edges. things here are still amazing, and the feeling is to be expected. but i miss some creature comforts, food and friends. would i trade those things for the freedom and adventure of the rambling road? today, perhaps. yesterday, certainly. tomorrow? we'll see.
Showing posts with label deep thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deep thoughts. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Mr. Kunal
there is no way to sum up everything that happened we met and stayed with mr.kunal. i think, for the sake of the blog, i'll try to sum things up quickly. sadly, i cannot transmit to you everything that was said and felt during our evening with him and his beautiful family. you'll just have to take my word when i say it marks a meeting with one of the finest souls i've met in this life.
(fyi, for visualization purposes, imagine ghandi and hemingway mixed together and you've pretty much got it)
so there we are, tired and hungry with only a dim hope that up ahead lies someplace, anyplace, where we can rest. we pull into a 'holiday house" to ask for directions. a deaf man waves at us and smiles, then motions to the big house. a smiling man in a blue shirt and simple sandals emerges and approaches us, smiling and waving.
we give him the standard speech. "hi, we're gringos. we're traveling india on bikes and we're looking for (insert poorly pronouced destination here)." we expect broken english and a vague sense of where the next town is. instead we get -
"kim beach is very close. but you may camp here on my land if you wish. here, here or over there - wherever. there are guest houses there you may use if you don't wish to camp. here is a double room. come inside. here is hot water. is this bathroom okay? the water is all filtered. i know how you westerners are about clean water. here is hot water for a bath. take one, it will work out all the knots. sit here, i'll get some tea."
we were stunned. he never insisted we stay, he only made sure we knew we were welcome too. "may we pay you for the room?" i asked. "why? just stay here, there is not trouble."
honestly, i was on the verge of tears. bleary eyed, i wiped my face and sat down to tea and biscuits. we had tea while the sun set in kunal's backyard. he left us alone saying he had a few things to do. when we were settled, we worked on the bikes for a while and both took a long indian style bath - basically pouring water over yourself from a small bucket. it's wondefully refreshing, a good exercise (as mr. kunal later pointed out) and oddly luxurious. we adjusted the brake pads and trued all the wheels before deciding that we should go thank our hosts again.
we were welcomed into the main house with smiles and were given the full tour. kunal spent years working as a wireless operator for different oil companies and ammased enough money to buy a little land, build a house and plant many trees to eat off of. his prayer room was beautifully tucked away and very cleanly swept. the kitchen was well used and smelt like fresh food. the whole place was spacious, comfortable and lived-in. we were seath and kunal and his lovely wife gave us rum and pepsi. we drank two rounds with kunal and talked about so much ... amnog the two hours or more throughout which there was never a dull or uninspiring moment, a few bright points stick out -
"europeans think too highly of themselves. you have to buy yours bread over here, not there. you are over there, i am over here. you are low. i am high. in France you must always be less than the french. france is a terrible place."
"churches can be very good but you must be careful - they like to build buildings and wear white robes, clean robes only. sometimes they are really good people but often they want some money or they say "you better think like me!""
"being on the bottom, being poor, is a very good thing. way up high on the mountain are the officials, the rulers and the priests and things. but from the bottom of the mountain you can see straight up their robes. so you know their asses are as dirty as yours."
"the world is a round place - what happens here, goes around to there."
"if you have stream that's flowing in one direction and you want to change it, you cannot cut it off, or just block it. it will explode and run over. you have to turn it very slowlyvery gradually and then it will go right where you want wihout any problems. this is how indians deal with things. when we kicked the british out, there were anglo-indians left who only wanted to associate with each other. so we said - okay. and we pushed them out a little. next generation, we push them out a little further. now, there are none."
"in america, decades ago, it didn't matter what you did, only how much money you made. we make the same? we're on par. it doesn't matter if he is a drug dealer or pimp or anything - money made you equal. now i think things are different. but here, we don't just move out the dealer. if you make it, maybe you sell it, or you use it. just like the stream - little bit at a time, we push them all over there. we kick them out. if you do any part of it, we move you over there, we move you out - slowly."
"there is no other woman than my wife for me, romantically. there are other women, i know. but sex or something - doesnt cross my mind. a son grows up and he says "this is my mom. this is my new mom. this is my new dad." and he grows up with that and he sleeps with whoever. i think you guys, your generation is better, but many americans and europeans grow up and they don't klnow what marraige is. i love my wife, she is my the only one."
"it's like benches or signs that say "no blacks or dogs allowed." a kid, maybe 6 or 8 he doesn't know, doesn't care. his best friend is black. but he sees that sign and his friend sees that sign. then about 10 or 11 he says, what is black? he is black, i am not black, like this. there are many examples. we shouldn't teach our children these things. but it's very important to know - something changes in the mind at ten or eleven. we stop just being us, our mind opens uand we start thinking and seeing other people differently. we should be careful what we teach children."
(fyi, for visualization purposes, imagine ghandi and hemingway mixed together and you've pretty much got it)
so there we are, tired and hungry with only a dim hope that up ahead lies someplace, anyplace, where we can rest. we pull into a 'holiday house" to ask for directions. a deaf man waves at us and smiles, then motions to the big house. a smiling man in a blue shirt and simple sandals emerges and approaches us, smiling and waving.
we give him the standard speech. "hi, we're gringos. we're traveling india on bikes and we're looking for (insert poorly pronouced destination here)." we expect broken english and a vague sense of where the next town is. instead we get -
"kim beach is very close. but you may camp here on my land if you wish. here, here or over there - wherever. there are guest houses there you may use if you don't wish to camp. here is a double room. come inside. here is hot water. is this bathroom okay? the water is all filtered. i know how you westerners are about clean water. here is hot water for a bath. take one, it will work out all the knots. sit here, i'll get some tea."
we were stunned. he never insisted we stay, he only made sure we knew we were welcome too. "may we pay you for the room?" i asked. "why? just stay here, there is not trouble."
honestly, i was on the verge of tears. bleary eyed, i wiped my face and sat down to tea and biscuits. we had tea while the sun set in kunal's backyard. he left us alone saying he had a few things to do. when we were settled, we worked on the bikes for a while and both took a long indian style bath - basically pouring water over yourself from a small bucket. it's wondefully refreshing, a good exercise (as mr. kunal later pointed out) and oddly luxurious. we adjusted the brake pads and trued all the wheels before deciding that we should go thank our hosts again.
we were welcomed into the main house with smiles and were given the full tour. kunal spent years working as a wireless operator for different oil companies and ammased enough money to buy a little land, build a house and plant many trees to eat off of. his prayer room was beautifully tucked away and very cleanly swept. the kitchen was well used and smelt like fresh food. the whole place was spacious, comfortable and lived-in. we were seath and kunal and his lovely wife gave us rum and pepsi. we drank two rounds with kunal and talked about so much ... amnog the two hours or more throughout which there was never a dull or uninspiring moment, a few bright points stick out -
"europeans think too highly of themselves. you have to buy yours bread over here, not there. you are over there, i am over here. you are low. i am high. in France you must always be less than the french. france is a terrible place."
"churches can be very good but you must be careful - they like to build buildings and wear white robes, clean robes only. sometimes they are really good people but often they want some money or they say "you better think like me!""
"being on the bottom, being poor, is a very good thing. way up high on the mountain are the officials, the rulers and the priests and things. but from the bottom of the mountain you can see straight up their robes. so you know their asses are as dirty as yours."
"the world is a round place - what happens here, goes around to there."
"if you have stream that's flowing in one direction and you want to change it, you cannot cut it off, or just block it. it will explode and run over. you have to turn it very slowlyvery gradually and then it will go right where you want wihout any problems. this is how indians deal with things. when we kicked the british out, there were anglo-indians left who only wanted to associate with each other. so we said - okay. and we pushed them out a little. next generation, we push them out a little further. now, there are none."
"in america, decades ago, it didn't matter what you did, only how much money you made. we make the same? we're on par. it doesn't matter if he is a drug dealer or pimp or anything - money made you equal. now i think things are different. but here, we don't just move out the dealer. if you make it, maybe you sell it, or you use it. just like the stream - little bit at a time, we push them all over there. we kick them out. if you do any part of it, we move you over there, we move you out - slowly."
"there is no other woman than my wife for me, romantically. there are other women, i know. but sex or something - doesnt cross my mind. a son grows up and he says "this is my mom. this is my new mom. this is my new dad." and he grows up with that and he sleeps with whoever. i think you guys, your generation is better, but many americans and europeans grow up and they don't klnow what marraige is. i love my wife, she is my the only one."
"it's like benches or signs that say "no blacks or dogs allowed." a kid, maybe 6 or 8 he doesn't know, doesn't care. his best friend is black. but he sees that sign and his friend sees that sign. then about 10 or 11 he says, what is black? he is black, i am not black, like this. there are many examples. we shouldn't teach our children these things. but it's very important to know - something changes in the mind at ten or eleven. we stop just being us, our mind opens uand we start thinking and seeing other people differently. we should be careful what we teach children."
Friday, February 26, 2010
Aneel and Co.
Stayed up last night working on the bikes and getting them ready for the exodus. About 1:45am there was a knock at the door. Aneel (one of our amazing hosts here at the hotel) saw we were still up, working hard and offered us a beer.
Aneel on the right speaking to Robert. They are either arguing about train protocol or arguing over what food or drink to bring us next.
Drinks in hand we hung out in the lobby with the staff drinking (us) and eating (them). We talked about how all the staff here are Christians, anjeel offered us a home to stay in in mangalore and we chatted about the bizarre rules of cricket. Aneel stated that he wished that he, like Americans, had money to spend on trips to see the world. I countered that while we may have more money in America, Indians have more heart. See for example today's earlier entries. This set anjeel and the staff into smiles of affirmation.
"work is very important here," he said,"and people may not have as much. The expectation is lower, but- as you say - the heart is bigger." We tipped a good rickshaw driver well and got smiles, honks and waves for a block after he let us out. We talked about our trip and interest in India and got maps, heartfelt congratulations and beer. I asked a guy today if someone Was lreparing pan and got two free pieces for me and Eliot and a complete history of the stuff. You give these guys an inch and they hand you back a foot. Is there crimeand poverty and sickness and complete injustice here? Uniquivically yes. But here also lies a working system of people who genuinely, truly have enormous hearts capable of service and laughter that breaks the scale.
Especially coming from Dubai, this place seemed shockingly poor, destitute and, yes, seriously dangerous. It is all of those things but much more too. Here lies the heart of the Buddha, the Vajra Sword, the Wisdom of Genesha, the Power of Allah, and the Spirit of Christ.
Aneel on the right speaking to Robert. They are either arguing about train protocol or arguing over what food or drink to bring us next.
Drinks in hand we hung out in the lobby with the staff drinking (us) and eating (them). We talked about how all the staff here are Christians, anjeel offered us a home to stay in in mangalore and we chatted about the bizarre rules of cricket. Aneel stated that he wished that he, like Americans, had money to spend on trips to see the world. I countered that while we may have more money in America, Indians have more heart. See for example today's earlier entries. This set anjeel and the staff into smiles of affirmation.
"work is very important here," he said,"and people may not have as much. The expectation is lower, but- as you say - the heart is bigger." We tipped a good rickshaw driver well and got smiles, honks and waves for a block after he let us out. We talked about our trip and interest in India and got maps, heartfelt congratulations and beer. I asked a guy today if someone Was lreparing pan and got two free pieces for me and Eliot and a complete history of the stuff. You give these guys an inch and they hand you back a foot. Is there crimeand poverty and sickness and complete injustice here? Uniquivically yes. But here also lies a working system of people who genuinely, truly have enormous hearts capable of service and laughter that breaks the scale.
Especially coming from Dubai, this place seemed shockingly poor, destitute and, yes, seriously dangerous. It is all of those things but much more too. Here lies the heart of the Buddha, the Vajra Sword, the Wisdom of Genesha, the Power of Allah, and the Spirit of Christ.
Mumbai, mi amor part II
After the helpful advice from the Indian call center we stumbled into we found our way to the India tourism office and a man who gave Shilpa a run for her money in terms of helpfulness - Rakesh.
Not only did he patiently wait for an hour, himouring our every request, but he gave us loads of maps and recommended hotels for our entire journey! Lots of advice on how to deal with folks, where to camp and how people will just take care of us.
Went to the grocer, saw the Gate, chatted with some merchants and shared our snacks (they looooove foreigners who love their food. apparently most don't? Schloobs.), ate again, got pan with a doctor of chemical engineering (more on this later!) and caught the train back at peak time - the pictures don't do this fact justice but think cattle car (or dokow train. Too soon?).
Pan Walla - more on this later.
A fine "Givson" guitar for sale.
Mumbai, mi amor
Well here we are. India. Two or more years ago Eliot and I started talkin about a trip and, through an intense year of planning and talking (especially the last four months) we're here where we said we were going. That alone is further than a lot of plans make it and I want to take the opportunity to pat myself and Eliot on our respective backs. So patted, let's talk about today.
Our tiny hotel room is where the tale begins. After two sink showers (the shower head is abysmmal nevermind that there is no shower area, just a head in the middle of the wall), we caught a rickshaw out to the train station. There is so much to say that I don't know how to sum it up ... I
Imagine a managerie on the move. There are elephants ( buses), maybe some rhinos (trucks), oxen (vans), tigers (taxis, cars), gazelles perhaps (rickshaws), rabbits (motorcycles), and squirrels (bicycles). There are also horses (horses) and cows (cows) but nevermind those fir the moment. So this big managerie just cruises down the road with no rules, no lanes (animals, remember?) just lumbering along. Big things go I. Big places, small things go in small places. If you see a gap and cut in front of everyone just to nearly collide head first into someone else, almost crush a few pedestrians by going up on a curb and just manage to slip into a space, well that's par for the course. I AM NOT EXAGERATING. we passed within inches of buses and taxis more than once. And not like "I could have reached out and touch the car" close. like "had my knee been barely poking out of the rickshaw I wouldn't have a leg" close.
On to the train station where we confidently purchased our tickets and were on our way ... In the complete opposite direction from our destination we soon found out. After much asking around and looking like total gringos we met the goddess of helpfulness, grace, patience and gringo-tolerance: Shilpa. This young Indian maid not only helped us buy tickets, she boarded the train with us and rode a few stops to make sure we were going the right way. Her reply to our over zealous thank you's? With a big smile: "it's in my nature ... I have no choice." genuinely beautiful.
Bless you, Shilpa.
Once we disembarked, we cruised around downtown Mumbai looking for the Indian tourism bureau that our hotel had recommended. We grabbed some food and went from one shop to the next trying to find this place. Eventuallyvwe ended up in travel call center and they put us right on track. As in America, when you need help with something it seems that eventually you'll end up talking to an Indian call center.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
countdown : 8
with eight days to go - and no more job to have to go to - i'm in full preperation mode. eliot took off to pleasanton so there are no distractions. i woke up and spent the (incredibly cold) morning boxing up all my stuff to haul off to storage. as i box up my life, the perrenial lament: why oh why do i have os many books? i had a coffee and cleaned up the kitchen a bit. my backpack had some cat wee on it so i through it in the wash, saying a not-so-silent prayer that it wouldn't tear to shreds like the last pack i tried to do that with ...
then i spent some time at the bank figuring out how money withdrawals will work over there and depositing some back checks. heading over to the at&t store to discuss the workflow for the iPhone (it's complicated but it looks like we'll still be taking it), skipped over to the outfitters and picked up a better watch band and some small luggage straps for the handlebar bag i picked up at best buy - i'm converting a camera bag that cost $21 instead of paying bontrager $100. makes sense to you, too, huh?
picked up my 30-days-at-time contact lenses (which i am dreading using [they aren't comfortable] but what can i do?). finally had something to eat about 2 and instantly fell asleep for 2 hours. i think my body was telling me to slow down. refreshed (sort of?) i head off to the 'bux for some coffee and internet. gotta blog, close up my e-mail account at work, and do a little more research. then it's a phone conversation with the storage facility, the landlord, the housemate and a quick repack of the bike.
then, god willing, lauren will come over with some wine and i can relax but i hope she brings something italian (montepulciano d'abruzzo? ripasso?) because i already have a cabernet decanted and it would really be a shame if- OH MY GOD WHY AM I SO WOUND UP?!?
oh yeah, i'm leaving the country for three months to survive on my wits and health alone for 3 months, that's why. thankfully i'm the good kind of wound up - excited, more-like. fear and elation have given way to determination. gotta move, gotta make steps forward. beaming down to the planet surface and praying my shirt ain't red - unless i'm scotty. i don't think i'm scotty. i'm more of a chekov, let's be honest.
then i spent some time at the bank figuring out how money withdrawals will work over there and depositing some back checks. heading over to the at&t store to discuss the workflow for the iPhone (it's complicated but it looks like we'll still be taking it), skipped over to the outfitters and picked up a better watch band and some small luggage straps for the handlebar bag i picked up at best buy - i'm converting a camera bag that cost $21 instead of paying bontrager $100. makes sense to you, too, huh?
VERSUS
picked up my 30-days-at-time contact lenses (which i am dreading using [they aren't comfortable] but what can i do?). finally had something to eat about 2 and instantly fell asleep for 2 hours. i think my body was telling me to slow down. refreshed (sort of?) i head off to the 'bux for some coffee and internet. gotta blog, close up my e-mail account at work, and do a little more research. then it's a phone conversation with the storage facility, the landlord, the housemate and a quick repack of the bike.
then, god willing, lauren will come over with some wine and i can relax but i hope she brings something italian (montepulciano d'abruzzo? ripasso?) because i already have a cabernet decanted and it would really be a shame if- OH MY GOD WHY AM I SO WOUND UP?!?
Thanks, Push-Up Preston
oh yeah, i'm leaving the country for three months to survive on my wits and health alone for 3 months, that's why. thankfully i'm the good kind of wound up - excited, more-like. fear and elation have given way to determination. gotta move, gotta make steps forward. beaming down to the planet surface and praying my shirt ain't red - unless i'm scotty. i don't think i'm scotty. i'm more of a chekov, let's be honest.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Making Lists, Checking Them Twice, Going Crazy
Now with 9 days to go (!!!!), Drew and I are fervently checking boxes on checklists and making more checklists to check in the interest of being as prepared as possible, and having a checklist to check constantly, check-it-y check check check. The other morning, whilst waiting for our breakfast at the Startz Cafe in Canyon Lake (test ride pictures to be uploaded soon!), I asked Drew, "wanna make a list?" Like, wanna play cards, or, wanna build a fort? Amazing.
This has become almost a pastime, making lists and coming up with stuff to take care of, and the closer to the deadline, the more lists there are and the more stuff to make lists about. I'm feeling more or less prepared, both mentally and check-list-ally, but most nights for the last week I have been waking up in the wee hours and writing down something crucial I forgot to do. Lists have come to be the overlapping memory I am trying to keep straight. I wish my mind could keep all this junk in order, and maybe after a few generations of evolution, it will. But for now, I gotta keep writing stuff down in my little to-do book, and on the back of bar napkins and HEB receipts and my hand and the cat.
As I lay awake in bed at night, I think of the lack of lists I'll have to keep on my mind when I'm floating free down the little Indian byways, waving at farmers and high-fiving holy cows. Then I lift off the ground and fly high above the country-side, zigging around the Taj and bouncing off the tops of trains and rickshaws. Then I fall off the bike into a giant inland sea made entirely of curry, eating and swimming at the same time. I climb out and wash my sins off in the Ganges, floating down in an innertube, Comal-style, until I fly off a waterfall and land on top of a big temple. Grabbing a zipline, I whizz above the crowds of pilgrims and holymen, dopping down onto my bike, which has magically scooted under me. I toss some rupees to a guy who chucks me a cup of Chai. Man, ain't life great.
Then I woke up and realized I was writing a blog entry. Snorrr-wha?
All in all, the list-making organizational process gives me peace, and the closer we get to the jet-day motivates me more and more to prepare. If today I'm this crazy on the crazy scale, in 4 or 5 days I'm gonna be THIS crazy. Like Gary Busey crazy.
OK, off to Pleasanton to see my Grandparents - they will be performing the admirable task of looking after my superb cat friend, Merlin - whom without, I would just be a man.
When in doubt or under pressure, just meditate, Om-style. Or try laughter.
dinner with the saeeds
i work with a wonderful person named Nabeeyah Saeed. We just call her Bea. Bea was born and raised in Michigan but her family is originally from Yemen, and that's where her husband was born. Alot of their family lives in India, particularly in and around Hyderabad and Madras. Last sunday they invited us over for dinner.
When we first got there, Mr. Saeed treated eliot and i to a nice, cold XXs. apparently, he's crazy about mexican beer. i can empathize. we talked alot about the trip, his family, our family. we had some chili / lime fried chips (also from mexico). as we munch down and knock back beer it occurs to me that mexico and india have a lot in common. deeply religious, traditional older folks set against the modernization of the young, post colonialism and (as i've mentioned here) a love of mixing sweet with spicy. also, dancing.
mr. saeed talked a lot about his time in madras as a young man. about brahmans looking down on those lower than them (in the caste system, that's everyone else), about Sikhs hating muslims ... some strong words were exchanged. at the end of each assertion, though, Mr. Saeed would sweep it away. "Do what you want to do" he said later in the evening. "if people don't approve, then to hell with them. Go somewhere else." I guess that's how he ended up with Bea, in America.
Bea is a perfectly western woman. She lied to her mother to play soccer, hid her intentions to join the FBI and ended up working as a director of nurses at a hospice taking care of the dying. she does what she wants, says what she thinks and has one of the biggest hearts in the world. Mr. Saeed is a blessed man, and he knows it. As much as Yemenis extremists have been in the news, here are two wonderfully loving Americans, sharing food and wisdom with a couple of wide-eyed american-born idiots. Mr. Saeed left Yemen, then India, married a strong, independent woman and settled down with his family.
Bea makes Yogurt curry, rice, green beans and tuna curry. There's chutney, and chili sauce and something i can't identify - another chutney maybe? It's green and spicy and tastes good with everything. Me and eliot eat two plates before taking a break. I want more but i'm stuffed. I drink the rest of my beer to calm my stomach down. Everything tastes amazing.
He beams when his sons are in the room - he has 3. He scolds one of the young ones who is playing his video games upstairs too loud. he tells us about the food in india, how he loved curries and hot arabic dishes ... about how madras is the perfect city for vegetarians. He tells us that when he got married, bea told him she'd cook dinner on the first night. She made sloppy joe's. He was expecting curry and rice. Bea didn't know how to make curry (she grew up in Michigan - remember?).
Later we're in the garage. Mr. and Mrs. Saeed are smoking. Bea is sitting on an old bow-flex machine and Mr. Saeed leans on a desk. Eliot is in front of a heated and i'm in a plastic lawn chair. It's so cold we can see our breaths. Their cigarettes look warm.
"My sister was the third woman in Yemen to drive a car," Mr. Saeed is saying. "And you know, nowadays, that's okay. But then it was a big deal. It was Ramadan and you know, you're not allowed to eat all day. So people go out, they go for walks, they drive, they go to the market or the mall. So we were out driving and this guy, he stops us because my sister is driving. I get out and we start talking ... he says this ... I say ... I said a bad word. And it was Ramadan so I can't say these words. He pulls out a J-knife, a big knife, you know a j-knife? And he comes at me and I grab a rock and I hit him in the face." Eliot and I share a look.
We're back inside and the Saeeds are telling us about places to go, people they know we should look up. Mr. Saeed makes chai - we each have at least two cups. The tea is strong - and perfect. Mr. Saeed tells us to eat "paan" whenever we get a chance but to be careful where we spit - the treat turns your saliva red. He says to stay away from "sooka." It's like paan but stronger, made with some kind of tobacco or cannabis that will "turn our heads," he says. He says even indians won't touch it, the smart ones anyway.
We shake hands about a dozen times, i'm writing everything on my phone. We say goodbye five or six times and finally, four hours after arriving we walk out to the car, leftovers in our hands.
you're too sweet
thanks for the kind words for those of you who hit me up after that last post - there's nothing at all to worry about. i was tired and rundown and, since this is a forum for all thoughts good and bad relating to the trip, i let it out here.
me and eliot are fine, fresh from a two-day long ride & camp. details will be coming up shortly, but thanks again. i wuv you guys thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much.
me and eliot are fine, fresh from a two-day long ride & camp. details will be coming up shortly, but thanks again. i wuv you guys thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much.
Friday, February 5, 2010
poor little guy, he had a big day
what a day.
as you may know, we have like 30 cats that live with us. well, to be honest 4 inside and (counting ...) 4 or 5 that live outside. 89% of those cats have been spayed or neutered (thanks, bob barker. love 'ya buddy). but 11% of those cats (read: one) has not. and whether or not it's actually him, we blame any spraying on him. and yesterday, he apparently sprayed all over my panniers. you remember my discount panniers, right? the ones my mom sowed into a sweet backpack? micky the cat went number one all over them.
so i stuck them in the wash last night and someone (thanks eliot) put them in the dryer for me last night. this morning i pulled them out. now, granted i don't think that those bags were supposed to be washed but i sort of expect all-terrain bike bags full of camping gear that - in many ways - i'm staking my life on for three months. i say this because this is what my discount bags looked like this morning when i woke up:
basically every piece of stitching holding the zippers to the bags came apart. to be honest, the zippers sucked anyway. seriously the top bag would either not zip, or, once zipped, would just come apart. let me highly HIGHLY recommend you not buy discount panniers. seriously, just spend the money on something decent. i ran up to bike world and picked up some smaller (BUT RELIABLE!) trek bags. sadly, i cannot afford the amazing Bontager recycled tire-material bags (drooooool) or Ortlieb waterproof bags. but someday ... next trip maybe.
as you may know, we have like 30 cats that live with us. well, to be honest 4 inside and (counting ...) 4 or 5 that live outside. 89% of those cats have been spayed or neutered (thanks, bob barker. love 'ya buddy). but 11% of those cats (read: one) has not. and whether or not it's actually him, we blame any spraying on him. and yesterday, he apparently sprayed all over my panniers. you remember my discount panniers, right? the ones my mom sowed into a sweet backpack? micky the cat went number one all over them.
so i stuck them in the wash last night and someone (thanks eliot) put them in the dryer for me last night. this morning i pulled them out. now, granted i don't think that those bags were supposed to be washed but i sort of expect all-terrain bike bags full of camping gear that - in many ways - i'm staking my life on for three months. i say this because this is what my discount bags looked like this morning when i woke up:
basically every piece of stitching holding the zippers to the bags came apart. to be honest, the zippers sucked anyway. seriously the top bag would either not zip, or, once zipped, would just come apart. let me highly HIGHLY recommend you not buy discount panniers. seriously, just spend the money on something decent. i ran up to bike world and picked up some smaller (BUT RELIABLE!) trek bags. sadly, i cannot afford the amazing Bontager recycled tire-material bags (drooooool) or Ortlieb waterproof bags. but someday ... next trip maybe.
after that i came home and spent a long time repacking and reworking the bags. i actually took a lot of stuff out of my bags. me and eliot set up the tent and lay our sleeping rolls out. i got inside, turned on the realistic ® radio and put on the jazz station. i lay there for quite a while just letting it all sink in.
we headed out to Whole Earth Provision and picked up some small nalgene bottles for iodine and stuff, we each bought some pepper spray (read: cobra repellent), permethrin and some expensive technical socks. i bought a clif bar, too. purchased a small journal at borders and headed back home. i sprayed all my clothing down with the repellent, then i was pretty beat so i crawled into bed.
i woke up in kind of a panic about india. i follow this sine-wave of terror and elation. this manic day-to-day ride is taking its toll on the mind and the body. i spend alot of time thinking about why i'm leaving behind a job, a good income, friends, a comfortable bed and my cat. i'm starting to get run-down. i even began to get a cole-sore today on my upper lip, which i used to only get around finals time or before i went to london for five months. eliot is slightly more flatulent than usually so i think he's got it, too.
i got up and re-packed, tossed out even more stuff (there's so much dead weight we're carrying) and loaded up the bike again. it's heavy. i haven't been biking as much as i should, haven't trained enough. i don't speak the language. i still haven't figured out what to do with all my stuff when i leave. i don't know what i'm going to do when i get back, even what city i'm going to be in. the guard on my gears broke. the little screws fell all over the floor with little bits of plastic.
i don't even know how to change a spoke on my bike.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
(big breath)
eliot and i are officially insured.
we are also officially visa'd.
we have tickets.
(big breath)
here we go.
we are also officially visa'd.
we have tickets.
(big breath)
here we go.
Mini-Ride down Salado Creek, plus history lesson
Eliot here, reporting on a neato-bandito solo ride I did yesterday through San Antonio's beautiful Salado Creek. This section of East SAT features a creek walk that snakes along a nice part of the creek, which I'm sure would be mighty pretty in the summer. However, when I rolled through, It was like a tsunami had mashed it's way down the corridor, as trash in the trees and plowed up undergrowth led me to believe a gullywasher blew through here not too long ago.
No matter, the birds were chirping and everybody waved on the way by. I had to stop and pump some air into my tires, but nothing much else to report. San Antonio is a very "liveable" city, and I'm going to miss my time here for just such reasons as this.
On the way, I passed a tiny Texas point of Historic Interest monolith on the side of the road - The Battle of the Salado. A rather significant moment in Texan history, this is the spot where the Mexican army, on their way out but still occupying San Antonio, was knocked back by Col. Matthew Caldwell and Capt. John C. Hays, preventing them from taking Austin, the capital of the then Republic of Texas. And today, it is peaceful and quiet. Amazing. Long live Texas.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Spotlight On: The Infamous Auto-Rickshaw
Though most traffic patterns in India would seem like a royal cluster-muck to the Western eye, locals of India refer to it with pride as a representation of the "orchestrated chaos" that defines the way the country works. From government to markets to travel to whatever, the country seems like it is constantly on the brink of self-destruction, but really everyone is working with a little bit of give and take to make it through. And, in the end, everything works out OK. Snakes be damned, Drew and I hope that the idea of this ordered chaos will carry us through, as well. Please no snakes. Oh God.
On the Rickshaw front, a Dutch company called Enviu is pushing for a movement to make hybrid Tut-Tuts, to battle the intense amount of junk these little buzzers puff out into the air. This company, whose other accolades include creating a dance floor that generates energy when people boogie on it called sustainable dance club (genius), is looking to reduce Rickshaw emissions and get drivers paid a bit more, as they typically make about 3-4$ US per day. Working with experts in Hyderabad and Bangalore, they've deduced that if they convert a million rickshaws, they can reduce the pollution of those zingers 40-60%, and boost the income of the drivers by about 30%. They're hoping this incentive program will catch on soon and be a mutual boon for both the company and the rickshaw operators themselves, not to mention the AIR (cough, cough). Meanwhile, some cities such as New Delhi have converted their autos to Clean Natural Gas, which Drew and I unfortunately produce at an alarming rate.
Stay tuned in the coming months, and you may witness video of this Daring Duo Dubiously Defying Death whilst Driving Down Delhi's Dangerous Downtown DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD.....Streets!!! Shazam!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Gandhi Anniversary & Posthumous Criticism
This Saturday will be the anniversary of the death of Mohandas Gandhi, the well-respected liberator of India from the British occupation and the endorser of a method of non-violent protest. The man is a legend in India, with most major cities featuring a statue of Gandhi. However, like most human beings, he held views that contradicted his overall ethos of equality and peace.
In this Guardian OP/Ed article by Michael Connellan, Gandhi is criticized for his rather archaic views towards women's rights and gender relations, some of which are faulted for setting India back significantly in regards to gender equality and social progress. Here's an excerpt from the article:
"Mohandas Gandhi, whose death anniversary falls on Saturday, was an amazing human being. He led his country to freedom and helped destroy the British Empire. Little wonder India worshipped him, and still worships him, as the Mahatma – "Great Soul". In the west he is viewed as a near-perfect combination of compassion, bravery and wisdom.
But Gandhi was also a puritan and a misogynist who helped ensure that India remains one of the most sexually repressed nations on earth – and, by and large, a dreadful place to be born female. George Orwell, in his 1949 essay Reflections on Gandhi, said that "saints should always be judged guilty until they are proved innocent". If only.
Gandhi despised his own sexual desires, and despised sex in any context except for procreation. He preached that the failure to control carnal urges led to complaints including constipation. He believed that sex was bad for the health of an individual, and that sexual freedom would lead Indians to failure as a people. He sought to consign his nation to what Martin Luther called "the hell of celibacy". He took his own celibacy vow unilaterally, without consulting his wife.
Both Gandhi and his hagiographers claimed he viewed women as equal to men, pointing to his inclusion of women in India's independence struggle. He celebrated non-violent protest as a "feminine" principle, neutralising the masculine brutality of British rule. But his sexual hang-ups caused him to carry monstrously sexist views. His view of the female body was warped. As accounted by Rita Banerji, in her book Sex and Power, "he believed menstruation was a manifestation of the distortion of a woman's soul by her sexuality".
During Gandhi's time as a dissident in South Africa, he discovered a male youth had been harassing two of his female followers. Gandhi responded by personally cutting the girls' hair off, to ensure the "sinner's eye" was "sterilised". Gandhi boasted of the incident in his writings, pushing the message to all Indians that women should carry responsibility for sexual attacks upon them. Such a legacy still lingers. In the summer of 2009, colleges in north India reacted to a spate of sexual harassment cases by banning women from wearing jeans, as western-style dress was too "provocative" for the males on campus."
At the end of the day, you question how much someone is a product of their environment/upbringing, and how in turn they come to form their points of view as an adult. Gandhi was clearly a complicated human being, with his own set of hypocrisies and self-contradictions, and you can't separate his great social triumphs from the legacy of gender oppression his memory has impressed on Indian society up to this day.
But then, perhaps it is the responsibility of every Indian to cull the good from the bad, hence the annual celebration of his good works. I dunno - nobody's perfect, I guess, and I imagine you just need to regard everyone as a human being, with faults and flaws,despite the tendency to treat respected figures as saints or saviors. Not sanctioning his views, but perhaps respectfully celebrating the good while not forgetting the bad.
OK, just got a little too heavy for this blog - MASHED POTATOES!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
sikhism
today i want to write about the fifth largest religion in the world, sikhism. while there are 23 million adherents to this faith, and you see them all the time, most people don't even know they exist, let alone what they espouse to believe. it's important to take a minute and identify these guys because:
1. they are a large, influential faith in the world
2. they are totally awesome
i'll get to that second point in a bit, but first let's lay down the basics. sikhs follow the teachings of ten gurus who lived from 1469-1708. the one you really need to know is Guru Nanak Dev - he got the whole thing rolling and the whole religion is really based on his teachings. the other nine gurus are each considered to have his spirit though (like the flame of one candle lighting the next) so as they added to and expanded his teachings they became canon. this is not unlike the star wars novelizations by timothy zahn, which many fans consider to carry on the tonality, scope and adventure of the original franchise. but i digress.
the most basic tenant is that there is one God and it is timeless, boundless, sightless, completely powerful and, insofar as we can understand it, the whole of the universe. "God is everywhere for the awakened mind" is one way the Sikh's think about this. a fundamental idea is that God can never be fully know but _aspects_ of God are knowable. those aspects include the knowledge that God wants us to Share with Each Other, Have an Optimistic View, Protect Weak and Innocent Creatures (especially humans), and Vigorously Participate in Giving Charity. pretty standard monotheistic stuff, but these guys take it a step further.
they believe in reincarnation, but not in any kind of heaven or hell. one sikh i spoke to in college put it this way: "heaven is the joy on the face of a child, and the happiness that can live in the human heart. hell is the pain we inflict upon each other, the wars we wage and the destruction we cause." they do however believe that with proper, intense meditation, a man can overcome the illusion of the world (maya - a term borrowed from hinduism) and come to conquer the Five Really Bad Hang Ups: ego, anger, greed, attachment and lust. When this is done, one can become enlightened, get to know those knowable bits of God and break the cycle of rebirth by joining with God in perfect union.
their base of operations is this enormous temple called Harmandir Sahib - colloquially referred to as the Golden Temple. it is a seriously impressive structure and one i would love to see when we visit india. unfortunately it's really close to pakistan so it's probably a no-go. nevertheless, it is a giant palace made of gold where Sikh's regularly gather to read some scripture, shoot the breeze and sip some garam chai (more on this another time).
the Sikhs had their own Empire for a while, standing in opposition to the Moghul Empire (1556-1707). they were amazing warriors and brilliant scholars. the Sikh empire is still recognized as being one of the most tolerant and pluralistic, with Muslims, Hindus, Christians and Jews being allowed to move and worship freely as well as hold high office. when the Raj finally beat them, he outlawed their martial arts, Shaster Vidiya, but it's stayed alive. the last remaining master of the "Science of Arms" keeps a school in England where he passes on the training. and just like every completely awesome warrior band from the numerous fantasy paperbacks that liter my bookshelf, there is an elite unit with a sweet name - The Akali Nihangs - the blue turbaned elite fighter force of the Sikh Empire.
SOOOOOOOOO AWESOME.
each baptized sikh comes with kung-fu grip and five action-accessories: kes (growing your hair into an awesome heavy-metal mane of manliness), kangha (a sweet comb to maintain said dudely locks), kara (an iron bracelet), kirpan (a KNIFE) and kaccha (super underwear). seriously though, each of these serves a special purpose:
- kes - a sikh is not allowed to cut their hair. this includes shaving their beards (but they can trim them, see below). they wear large turbans wrapped up around their heads to keep all their hair in when they're out and about (also, they look rather stylish --> boom Boom BooM BOOM). the reason for doing this is that it is considered unnatural to cut hair - if God wanted it short, he wouldn't make it grow. thus not cutting one's hair is an act of submission to God's will (and handsome to boot - just ask my girlfriend) more importantly, though, it identifies a Sikh to all the world. As Guru Singh wrote "..How can he hide himself with hair and turban on his head and with a flowing beard?"
- kangha - the comb reminds the Sikh to be hygienic, disciplined and for goodness sake to wash behind one's ears. this is both a practical implement to facilitate kes, and a token of one's obedience to staying positive and healthy, keeps the turban in place (yes, really) and, just like my seltsen blue lightly medicated shampoo and condition, "keeps hair healthy, clean, shining and tangle-free."
- kara - the iron braclet is to remind a Sikh to use his or her hands for good stuff and not for bad. that's pretty much it, actually. it reminds the sikh to be helpful, kind and giving.
- kirpan - believe it or not, the knife is worn to further the sikh idea of non-violence. each sikh is commanded to carry the blade at all times (making airline flying difficult for them) in order to defend the helpless and weak, fight injustice and to prevent violence. Sikhs were awesome warriors but they truly believed that if you were strong, smart and skillful, you would only use violence to stop violence. they really buy this too - sikhs have traditionally been pretty non-violent dudes. from day one their religion opposed the cast system and they had little love of british oppression, extremist violence and any kind of war.
- kaccha - alright, i make fun but this is pretty cool, too. like the kara reminds the sikh of the responsibility in his hands, the kaccha reminds a Sikh to use his (cough, cough / wink, wink) for noble purposes. it's like a big post-it note that sikhs wear so that when they see it they pause and ask themselves, "is what i'm about to do with what's in there going to be glorifying to my God, honorable to my family and just plain decent?"
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if beard-growing, turban-wearing, holy underoo-sporting Jedi from india aren't cool to you, then you probably aren't very cool yourself. as the icing on the already well-iced cake that is Sikhism, they get this awesome insignia which incidentally looks alot like the Klingon insignia from star trek:
Monday, January 18, 2010
sticks and stones
you've probably seen / made fun of this guy:
that's Ganesh and, point of fact, a super-important deity in hinduism. hinduism's gods are amazing both in number and depth of meaning. you know how christians have that the big guy and his kid and a ghost that want you to be nice to each other and help the poor? Hindus have like 3 million more, including this guy who is fat and has an elephant's head. But i'm getting ahead of myself.
for now what you need to know is that there are alot of stories as to how ol pachyderm-head got that way. the most widespread one is that Parvati (the embodiment of feminine Shaki - man this is going to get complicated. Look, for now just think of Shakti like the Force from Star Wars, okay?) got it on with Shiva (lord of destruction - not necessarily a bad thing) and the offspring was Ganesh. Later on, Parvati self-immolated out of shame because her dad, Daksha, did not approve of her marriage. Shiva got bummed out and lost interest in worldly matters (and took up drinking) (not really) (maybe?).
Anyway, one day Ganesh came between Mom and Pop and Shiva lopped his noodle off. It's up to interpretation but there is an implication of Oedipal son-lovin' going on here. In another version, Parvati keeps Ganesh secret from Shiva so he doesn't recognize him and think he's a would-be usurper to Parvati's love - reverse Oedipal style! Anyway, Shiva feels bad about killing his kid so he brings him back to life (MAGIC!) and then replaces his head with that of an elephant because "that's all he could find." I find it hard to believe that a guy who can bring people back from the dead and destroy the whole universe can't find a human head for his own kid but, you know, whatever. In other stories it's Vishnu, the four-handed blue-skinned god of preservation who finds the elephant head.
In a totally different version, Shiva laughed so hard that Ganesh came flying out of his belly. Shiva thought he was too pretty looking so he gave him a big belly and an elephant head to spite him. Shiva is a jerk, apparently.
In what is undoubtably the BEST version of the story, Parvati is showing off her baby to the other gods and Saturn accidentally looks at him with HIS LASER BLASTING EYES and blows up his head. I am not making this up.
Anyway, so then Ganesh had an Elephant head, which is SUPPOSED to look silly. This is really important. See, Ganesh is seen as the friend of businessmen (and travellers!) because he is "The Remover of Obstacles." He's also the "Lord of Beginnings" and people envoke his name at the beginning of everything from long trips to religious ceremonies. He starts things off and makes sure things go smoothly, in other words.
Why? Well, much like the western popularized "Elephant Man", Ganesh got dealt a crummy hand - smoked by his own dad and made into a freak of nature (or blown up by some random dude's laser vision, take your pick). Originally his name meant "one tusk" because his other one got broken off. So from the start, Ganesh has been an ugly, fat, broken dude. But Ganesh kept it cool and went on with life because he's got a good outlook.
Incidentally, most of the Gods in Hinduism come with a mount (or "vehicle" - just like M.A.S.K.! ), and usually (like in other mythologies) this is their faithful companion and helper. There are awesome dogs, tigers, even birds and dragons. Ganesh? He has a rat. Rats are thieves, scavengers and disease-carrying little hairballs, right? Yup, just like elephant-headed gods can't possible be taken seriously. See, in Hinduism everyone has vighna or an impediment they need to get over. Ganesh has an elephant head. Rat-Dude has a bad rep. Deep down, their both just who they are, greater than their reputations and just working through their karma, regardless of what people say or think.
See, Ganesh is all about getting over and around things. Somebody blows your head off, don't sweat it. Trouble at work with your boss? Keep it cool, baby. Blow a tire on a poorly-maintained Indian road? Time to put a spare on and keep trucking. Trying to find enlightenment (or reach salvation) by reading stuffy old books, falling on your knees and staring at your navel?
Check out the goofy elephant-headed god; maybe you're taking things too seriously.
that's Ganesh and, point of fact, a super-important deity in hinduism. hinduism's gods are amazing both in number and depth of meaning. you know how christians have that the big guy and his kid and a ghost that want you to be nice to each other and help the poor? Hindus have like 3 million more, including this guy who is fat and has an elephant's head. But i'm getting ahead of myself.
for now what you need to know is that there are alot of stories as to how ol pachyderm-head got that way. the most widespread one is that Parvati (the embodiment of feminine Shaki - man this is going to get complicated. Look, for now just think of Shakti like the Force from Star Wars, okay?) got it on with Shiva (lord of destruction - not necessarily a bad thing) and the offspring was Ganesh. Later on, Parvati self-immolated out of shame because her dad, Daksha, did not approve of her marriage. Shiva got bummed out and lost interest in worldly matters (and took up drinking) (not really) (maybe?).
Anyway, one day Ganesh came between Mom and Pop and Shiva lopped his noodle off. It's up to interpretation but there is an implication of Oedipal son-lovin' going on here. In another version, Parvati keeps Ganesh secret from Shiva so he doesn't recognize him and think he's a would-be usurper to Parvati's love - reverse Oedipal style! Anyway, Shiva feels bad about killing his kid so he brings him back to life (MAGIC!) and then replaces his head with that of an elephant because "that's all he could find." I find it hard to believe that a guy who can bring people back from the dead and destroy the whole universe can't find a human head for his own kid but, you know, whatever. In other stories it's Vishnu, the four-handed blue-skinned god of preservation who finds the elephant head.
In a totally different version, Shiva laughed so hard that Ganesh came flying out of his belly. Shiva thought he was too pretty looking so he gave him a big belly and an elephant head to spite him. Shiva is a jerk, apparently.
In what is undoubtably the BEST version of the story, Parvati is showing off her baby to the other gods and Saturn accidentally looks at him with HIS LASER BLASTING EYES and blows up his head. I am not making this up.
Anyway, so then Ganesh had an Elephant head, which is SUPPOSED to look silly. This is really important. See, Ganesh is seen as the friend of businessmen (and travellers!) because he is "The Remover of Obstacles." He's also the "Lord of Beginnings" and people envoke his name at the beginning of everything from long trips to religious ceremonies. He starts things off and makes sure things go smoothly, in other words.
Why? Well, much like the western popularized "Elephant Man", Ganesh got dealt a crummy hand - smoked by his own dad and made into a freak of nature (or blown up by some random dude's laser vision, take your pick). Originally his name meant "one tusk" because his other one got broken off. So from the start, Ganesh has been an ugly, fat, broken dude. But Ganesh kept it cool and went on with life because he's got a good outlook.
Incidentally, most of the Gods in Hinduism come with a mount (or "vehicle" - just like M.A.S.K.! ), and usually (like in other mythologies) this is their faithful companion and helper. There are awesome dogs, tigers, even birds and dragons. Ganesh? He has a rat. Rats are thieves, scavengers and disease-carrying little hairballs, right? Yup, just like elephant-headed gods can't possible be taken seriously. See, in Hinduism everyone has vighna or an impediment they need to get over. Ganesh has an elephant head. Rat-Dude has a bad rep. Deep down, their both just who they are, greater than their reputations and just working through their karma, regardless of what people say or think.
See, Ganesh is all about getting over and around things. Somebody blows your head off, don't sweat it. Trouble at work with your boss? Keep it cool, baby. Blow a tire on a poorly-maintained Indian road? Time to put a spare on and keep trucking. Trying to find enlightenment (or reach salvation) by reading stuffy old books, falling on your knees and staring at your navel?
Check out the goofy elephant-headed god; maybe you're taking things too seriously.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
heavy
headed over to Good Sports again today to pick up a Katadyn Exstream XR water bottle (to add to our iodine tablets, fire and purchased bottled water for H20 purification options) and the most cool pants i have ever purchase because they are, in fact, 3 KINDS of PANTS.
1. Slacks
2. Button-up legs for Goucho-Style
3. Zip-off legs for Shorts.
I know, I know. I have crossed a threshold. The rubicon has been forded. There is no going back. I am officially an old man, and an easy target for attractive young ladies to giggle derisively at as he passes. I now own zip-off pants. sigh ...
On the other hand, they are super comfortable, way breathable, and I was never a very cool guy anyway. Meanwhile, Eliot went up to Houston / Austin this weekend for some family stuff and stopped over REI to pick up his own Katadyn bottle and some other stuff. Widdling down the purchase list (and my checking account ...). Got a few more big purchases (inoculations for me, insurance for both of us) and then we're off.
The enormity of the trip is really starting to hit me. Having some tough talks with family and friends about what this means, how much it costs and the risks. This is going to be the hardest thing i've ever put my body and mind through: dealing with culture shock, a semi-permeable language barrier, inclement weather conditions and more physical activity than some people do in a lifetime is going to rough to say the least. I'm scared to death.
But i'm also excited. This is exactly the kind of thing i've spent my whole life wanting to do. From my first steps into this big ol' world i wanted to push my limits and see what's over that next hill, around that next bend. So, to my family and friends: Wave goodbye as I go, keep me in your thoughts and i'll see you when the road comes back this way.
In the meantime, we'll be keeping you updated on these final 30 days-or-so. They'll be a big crunch at the end as we scramble to get everything lined up in time to shove off, but for now, keep checking in to hear about our wacky training-regime, ridiculous pants and personal dilemmas.
A special Ghost-Runners howdy-do to our newest follower Vinod Karimatt! Welcome aboard! If you guys get a chance, go check out one of his many sites, He's fond of the saying "Photography is the only language that can be understood anywhere in the world." Hey, from two film majors - we couldn't agree more. The picture above is from the website linked above. Go check out his photos!
1. Slacks
2. Button-up legs for Goucho-Style
3. Zip-off legs for Shorts.
I know, I know. I have crossed a threshold. The rubicon has been forded. There is no going back. I am officially an old man, and an easy target for attractive young ladies to giggle derisively at as he passes. I now own zip-off pants. sigh ...
On the other hand, they are super comfortable, way breathable, and I was never a very cool guy anyway. Meanwhile, Eliot went up to Houston / Austin this weekend for some family stuff and stopped over REI to pick up his own Katadyn bottle and some other stuff. Widdling down the purchase list (and my checking account ...). Got a few more big purchases (inoculations for me, insurance for both of us) and then we're off.
The enormity of the trip is really starting to hit me. Having some tough talks with family and friends about what this means, how much it costs and the risks. This is going to be the hardest thing i've ever put my body and mind through: dealing with culture shock, a semi-permeable language barrier, inclement weather conditions and more physical activity than some people do in a lifetime is going to rough to say the least. I'm scared to death.
But i'm also excited. This is exactly the kind of thing i've spent my whole life wanting to do. From my first steps into this big ol' world i wanted to push my limits and see what's over that next hill, around that next bend. So, to my family and friends: Wave goodbye as I go, keep me in your thoughts and i'll see you when the road comes back this way. In the meantime, we'll be keeping you updated on these final 30 days-or-so. They'll be a big crunch at the end as we scramble to get everything lined up in time to shove off, but for now, keep checking in to hear about our wacky training-regime, ridiculous pants and personal dilemmas.
A special Ghost-Runners howdy-do to our newest follower Vinod Karimatt! Welcome aboard! If you guys get a chance, go check out one of his many sites, He's fond of the saying "Photography is the only language that can be understood anywhere in the world." Hey, from two film majors - we couldn't agree more. The picture above is from the website linked above. Go check out his photos!
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