the gypsy life

orlando, florida - february 23, 2007

2007-02-23T20:54:00.000-07:00

it's bobo's birthday. none of you reading this will know who bobo is, but i do and i needed to get that out.

happy birthday, bobo!

this will be my last post to this blog. it's served its purpose. and i can hear my voice again, calling me. calling you, too, so you can look for me here. (that's a link, btw, for those who've been wondering....)

but by way of transition, here's something that emerged while i was trying just to write a straightforward e-mail to one o' dem types we sometimes call a best friend about my arrival in disneyworld...i mean, orlando:

or LAN dough

how weird is it to be
in suburban orlando
behind a gate with a manufacturer's label
'timber isle'
but there is no isle with timber
and the closest grocery store is a wal-mart
and if you listen real close
you can hear the waltons
wishing themselves
a financially good night

tricia is learning how to play the electric guitar in the living room
which has something to do with poetry
and jigsaw puzzles
and girl guides earning science badges
and what does "digital" mean, anyway?
or so she asks
while i print a banana walnut bread recipe
'cause we have overripe bananas
and too much spare time
even though the spare is flat
and we're kind of bumping along
and pretending it's just the uneven road
which it is
but not just

some inflation required
our boxes should read

[breathe]

so i can thank you
for taking care of yourself
and turning into the wind and spray
thrown up by your prow
plowing through fear's dark harbour

that
i mean this
is what it feels like
to throw open your arms
to hold the hazy wraith of disappointment
'cause nobody who loves you
and i mean you
will walk away

waterlemon joice, or the day a leaf insect flew into my startled hand, regained its composure and tasted my olive oil - february 9, 2007

2007-02-08T23:10:00.000-07:00

an impression of india (not the greatest or the first or the last, but one of them): so many dogs with testicles

i've been in auroville since january 28. it was (and remains) intended to be a city of 50,000 aspiring towards the ideal of human unity, but after 40 years, remains a loosely-knit aggregation of 1800 people (in peak, winter season) in several, small strung-out communities. one needs transportation. i chose a low-tech push-bike (there are no hi-tech push-bikes to rent).

yes. i've been a cyclist for almost 2 weeks and will forever appreciate what those who choose to cycle in the western world must go through, though the traffic here is less dense than it is manic and unpredictable, there being no real rules of the road beyond the murky basis of the honking system. i inhale lots of dust, fumes and bugs. i brake for cows, goats and children, sometimes all at once. i pull over and stop for buses. i do not have a butt of steel, but as la mophead reminded me today, my butt is perfect, so what am i talking about?

the scene: "rush hour" in the village of kuillapalayam as i return a la bicyclette to my little flat in the aurovillian community of douceur. i am irritated. momentarily. really fleeting. but it's enough. i am irritated because i am having to move extremely slowly. i am stuck behind another, very slow-moving cyclist because oncoming traffic is too thick and dangerous. why is the cyclist moving slowly during rush hour? well, she's a village woman wearing a dark blue sari. and she has a load of firewood 4 feet wide and 2 feet in diameter strapped to the back of her bicycle. and after having got up early in the morning to cook, feed, wash clothes, sweep and maybe even work (which may involve carrying dirt or cement in a basket on her head) she is probably going home to use the firewood to cook supper for her family. then she will get up in the morning and do it all over again.

wash. rinse. repeat.

the highlight of my time here has been the gift of learning from a remarkable, originally north american woman now named bhavana, to whom i was introduced during the 5-day orientation last week. she joined auroville in 1971 when she was 27 after her psychedelic experiences opened up her consciousness. at that time, auroville was little more than an arid plain, still at serious risk of desertification after the british cut down all of the forest 300-400 years before. although she had no previous bovine experience, she was invited to milk and care for some cows. she accepted and was lodged in the cow barn with a bed and a mosquito net in a stall next to the ruminating creatures. (NB: amma also was initially lodged in a cowshed, which remains on her ashram as the kilara temple in which puja is performed every morning at 5am).

bhavana chose simplicity. she lives in a small, domed, single room. it contains a bed, some bookshelves and 2 chairs. the north wall is a huge bug screen with a door. bhavana leads vipassana and metta meditations. she also leads work in "village action", involving herself in developing relationships with the many villages that are either nearby, or in some cases surrounded by auroville. i have been meditating regularly with her, getting up at 4:30am to cycle for 3o minutes from douceur to verite (gentleness to truth...no less) for the daily morning meditation at 6am. then i join the savitri reading group (savitri is sri aurobindo's epic poem--the longest in the english language--and has been called the clearest expression of his vision) from 7-8am. then i scrounge for breakfast and get on with my day.

last tuesday, i had the opportunity to experience bhavana's class, "auroville, villages & human unity". we visited the village of sanjeevinagar and the mohanam culture centre, which is a 90-year-old tamil house that, through the joyful effort of 11 local boys (they are now young men, some of them just married), was reclaimed and restored. it now serves as a kind of living museum and a creche for local children.

(sidenote: we were told that mohini, from which the centre's name derives, is the name of the female incarnation of vishnu, who took that form in order to become the consort of shiva and bear shiva's child)

although some villagers are now living in sturdy, stuccoed homes, many also continue in their ancient, traditional mud and palm-thatch huts, which is all that sanjeevinagar was when bhavana arrived 35 years ago. many of these people are existing at essentially pre-rational survival level, in very tightly nit, complex, blood-based kinship units and are very quick to anger when novelty arises. aurovillians are here to move from the rational, ego-bound mental level, to the transmental (or "supramental" in aurobindo's language).

but i've lost the plot (low blood sugar).....it happens. but i'm sure you've all figured it out anyway.

let's just say that watching my irritation while riding a bicycle behind a hard-working village woman was a moment of absolute clarity.

and it occurred the day i was returning from the village....on my way to spend two nights in the uber-swank dune village beach resort, right in the small village of pudhukuppam 10 km north of auroville, where the universe opened up an opportunity in late january into which i flung myself. i had to pay, in advance. non-refundable.

so i did my best to soak up the leisure of the "beach house", the unit closest to the beach and as far away from anyone as i could get. what luck! my w.c. was at the end of a concrete bridge opposite the louvered-shutter bedroom. the al-fresco shower was in a separate, open but thatched structure surrounded by a spiral bamboo wall. the food was truly spectacular, much of it organic, hypotoxic. i walked on the beach, consenting to be licked by the soup-warm bay of bengal and collected seashells, which i haven't done since i was a child.

now i'm back in auroville, trying to stay present, though i will be flying back to north america in 2 days.

yes, y'all read that correctly. after 6 1/2 months, it's time to touch base with the western world, but being far too cold, no time to return to calgary just yet.

i fly from chennai on february 11 and arrive mid-day in vancouver on february 12. i'll spend 4 days there adjusting my wardrobe, shedding some luggage, hugging dallas and then move to orlando on february 16. how long i'll remain there, i don't know. i'm floating in intense gratitude for the invitation from tricia for the invitation to stay with her indefinitely. (circumstances required a practical shift from our desire to meet in southeast asia).

so the next time you here from me, i'll be in a timezone closer to you.

stay tuned for details.

indian express - january 24, 2007

2007-01-24T01:39:00.000-07:00

from page 9 of the Indian Express (January 24, 2007, edition), tortured syntax entirely intact:

Bhadohi (UP): A man, who buried himself in a grave, had to be forcibly taken out by the local people after 12 hours, in Bhadohi district of Uttar Pradesh. According to sources, Mohammed Idris, a native of Bareilly, had buried himself alive at a graveyard at 'Shahar' Konwali area on Monday, as he wanted to have an experience of "death." The news spread like wildfire and a large number of people gathered near the spot and took Idris out alive of the grave.

[btw, if you check the "breaking news" on the front page of the website, you'll see that "Canadian Pig Farmer Denies Murder Claims". my first "news" from Canada since i left! glory!]

streaks, tips & highlights - january 23, 2007

2007-01-22T23:31:00.000-07:00

yes. i know.

when last heard from, your less-than-reliable correspondent was contemplating, with some trepidation, an overnight bus trip from Goa to Hampi. the trip to Hampi wasn't so terrible, though i got little sleep: i was in a comfy, reclining seat next to the second-most beautiful man i've ever met (the most beautiful man knows who he is and needn't be mentioned here by name). although before we spoke to one another, i thought he was french or belgian, he was in fact, from newmarket, ontario, having moved to montreal when he was 18.

Hampi itself was very pink and dusty and full of banana plantations and weird bouldered hills. after 2 days of roaming among the ruined temples and palaces i was, frankly, ruined, which made the horror of the return to Goa even more spectacular: i was trapped, between the window and a young japanese woman, in a coffin-like upper "sleeper" berth with no ability to sit up for 10 hours, no sleep and little opportunity for proper leverage in the event of a need to roll over. the result: the second set of lower back spasms since leaving canada.

after encouragement from my friends, Toni and Clasina (from the child haven tour), i headed straight from Goa to Amma's ashram at Amritapuri on january 6. although they gushed about the fantastic "essence chiropractor", Ganganath, they doubted that i would get to see him since he was "blocked solid". the universe works in magical ways, however, and his schedule offered an appointment the next day. i can't explain his technique, or how gentle it was, but it was remarkably effective. was there a possibility of follow-up? why yes! indeed. and when would that be? on january 11, (a) the day after my friends were to leave the ashram (the thought of being there alone was terrifying) and (b) the day Amma was scheduled to return to the ashram for 10 days before commencing her south india tour, a tour that would end the day my indian visa expires and i would be required to leave the country.

so, you can see how forces were massaging me into place for a meeting with Amma in order to experience her darshan, in which i would receive a hug and perhaps see fireworks or know that i was meant to become a devotee. at the very least, i would be embraced by a living saint. i don't say that lightly, btw--she's an extraordinary being in every respect. to put her in perspective, when a guru has attained the scope and stature of Amma (e.g.Sathya Sai Baba), darshan, which literally means "vision" or "to see", means just that: you get to see the guru, maybe from a considerable distance. Amma hugs everyone who comes to her, an unbelievable feat. she is tireless in her effort. think about a simple woman from a small Keralan village physically embracing everyone, male and female, from the around the world, who comes before her. think about it.

i stuck it out. i lingered in a bizarro world populated by so many people wearing white. i felt like an alien who'd left his home planet headed for earth, but who drifted wildly off course and landed in a COMPLETELY alien world that had nevered been scanned by his home planet sensors. what was even more bizarre was the slippage between the intention of the whites--e.g. purity and letting go of worldly attachments and desires--and the reality of the whites--some people in the very simple, plain cotton stuff available in the ashram, and others in an entire array of varying styles, ornamentation and price tags. the westerners rarely seemed to mix with the indians.

bizarre. bizarre. bizarre.

i volunteered. i was the "supervisor" (giggle) of the western canteen dish-drying at lunch, where i was overwhelmed with help from really lovely people, though i could still not get used to the adoption of indian spiritual names by inescapably white westerners. i also served dinner in the evening under the supervision of a super-cool and super-beautiful queer woman from the U.S. seeing her out of her blue server apron, drifting along the walkways of the ashram in her flowing (but simple) white sari always made me smile.

i was also blessed by the brief (until i left) friendship of yet another beautiful young scandinavian woman, Anu, from Finland. she was a tremendous teacher and i'm so grateful for the opportunity to have learned with her to laugh at our freedom and the remnants of our attachments.

so....i received my hug from Amma on january 13. it lasted about 3 seconds and is a real, full-on body embrace. any of you who have read Holy Cow by Sarah MacDonald will know what i'm talking about. it almost made me giggle when she murmured "ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma...." in my right ear as i was clasped to her ample bosom, followed by something incomprehensible, which i assume was something in her native Malayalam. there was no indication of "recognition", no fireworks, no moment of brilliant clarity during or afterward. however, as i walked away from the experience, i felt a kind of release. it doesn't matter whether it was Amma or me, because there is no meaningful distinction between us in this context. but i felt free to leave and to continue my exploration. this sense of freedom was significant: i had considered the possibility of remaining in Amritapuri until february 11 and seeing no more of india. i contemplated the possibility that it might be time for me to renounce the world and dive into a spiritual relationship with Amma as my guru.

but no. not yet, anyway.

so on january 16, 10 days after arriving, i went to Fort Cochin, about three hours north of the ashram, but still in Kerala. Fort Cochin is the old dutch and portuguese part of the otherwise bustling metropolis of Kochi, most of which is on the mainland across the wide expanse of the Kerala backwaters (everyone: please read The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy). in kochi, i stayed at a really beautiful homestay, called Delight. the owners, David and Flowery (yes, you read that correctly) were wonderfully kind and generous. their house, the dining room and common room of which were open to guests, is a 300-year-old portuguese mansion with 15-foot ceilings and 2-foot thick walls. the rooms were beautiful. (i admit to treating myself a bit here.....). while enjoying the really laid-back lifestyle and the friendly people, i experienced the incredibly weird world of kathakali dance and a full-day, eco-friendly backwaters cruise. the "eco-friendly" part was primarily due to the absence of a motor on the boat, which was punted with spectacular patience and momentum by a wiry little man who left me feeling withered and useless after about 2 hours. what the others on the cruise experienced, i don't know, but gawping at life along the backwaters eventually seemed a little.....unseemly. i was glad when it was over.

kerala also gave me the opportunity to wear a lunghi (or dhoti as it's called in some parts of india) as often as conveniently possible. yay for men in skirts!

on january 21, i flew from Kochi to Chennai and made my way immediately to Pondicherry, about two hours south (by car). i wasn't aware that the French had much of a presence in India, but Pondicherry is the former capital of French India and bears an unmistakable gallic imprint, including the neatly laid out grid of french-named streets with a central (and now completely foul) canal. in pondi, i've indulged my comfort on an even grander scale, though i'm still in a skirt. i wanted to stay in one of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram guesthouses, but they are completely full, so i opted for the opulence of the Hotel de l'Orient. (i move to less extravagant digs tomorrow morning...)

yesterday, i took what i thought was going to be a tour of the ashram in the morning, but it consisted only of a disturbing, 1960-ish video of the life of Sri Aurobindo and The Mother in the Bureau Central, then a series of stops at the various cottage industries in which the ashram offers opportunities for people to work (papermaking, silk-printing, scent-making), all of which are sold all over Pondicherry. i was disappointed that it was a shopping excursion.

in the afternoon, i took the Auroville tour. Auroville excites me. i can't really say anything about it. i'm that excited. i've been able to secure accommodation there for 10 days commencing january 28. i've timed it for a 5-day orientation to life in this beautiful, experimental community.

(met a cool environmental scientist/photo-journalist from Nairobi, Kenya, on the Auroville tour: Neil Thomas.)

(oh, and hoping to go to a "trance drumming" concert, "Tamil Voodoo", at a resort north of here on jan 26)

looking ahead (from which i can't seem to find the will to cease), i will come back to Pondicherry after Auroville and then fly from Chennai to Singapore on february 10. what my time in southeast asia will look like, i don't know. all i know is that Tricia (in Orlando) is making every effort to meet me in Thailand or Cambodia. can you say "scuba-diving and temple-browsing with tricia"?

sure you can.

i knew you could.

so that's what's been up with me.

[i can tell by reviewing this post that my dexterity with the english language is stiffening up. although i confess to writing that sentence primarily to use the word "stiffening".]

frequency modulation - january 2, 2007

2007-01-02T03:13:00.000-07:00

leaving the 2 portions of my perforated NYE ticket intact, i declined the opportunity to communally welcome the so-called new year as much from a disinclination to mingle with strangers in the clamour and clang of poorly executed music (though "executed" is entirely apt) that continued until 4am, as from a very real sense of the slipperiness of time. this sense emerged from my awareness that, for most (all, really) of the people i love, their welcome would necessarily follow mine through the exigencies of longitude.

i was embarrassed, once again, by time.

my embarassment melted into my unique brand of compulsive despair, through which i pushed with my first truly "western" television experience since leaving canada: i watched most of collateral (tom cruise, jamie foxx, jada pinkett-smith) on HBO. i missed only the most superficially significant portion, that being anne's soliloquy from the rear seat of max's cab on her experience of the practice of law. (of course, the less superficially significant message of following through toward one's life aim--by improvisation, movement, change--i caught singlehandedly...once again.)

so NYE 2006 was, viewed from this perspective, a dramatic success

i leave colva beach tonight for a 10-hour, overnight bus ride to hampi (vijayanagar) in karnataka. i've roughly sketched my approach to the widely-scattered ruins according to my arrival and departure times in relation to the sunset and sunrise. (especially as one ages, proper lighting is essential.)

random pointmoment in spacetime....

...a modification to my expressed hope for posthumous dispersal: when sprinkling my ashes--and please do sprinkle, as scattering is far too solemn--please divide them more or less evenly between brad pitt and john abraham. (enough of the old black & white shit.)

we pause now for station identification

colva beach, south goa - december 31, 2006

2006-12-31T06:03:00.000-07:00

perhaps because it felt like my "new year" began when i left canada on july 31, exactly 5 months ago, i arrived in the beach party capital of india this afternoon with little more than a slight gust of exhaustion.

i overcame my instinct to hide in my room and walked down the beach while the sun was setting. the beach was packed where i entered it, mostly with indians. i was beset by young indian men wanting me to rent bikes, jet skis and a para-sailing experience. i walked as far down the beach as possible and smiled alot at the unfamiliar way in which indian families enjoy a day at the beach. on the way back, i spotted a clump of human feces in the sand.

but the sun setting beyond the arabian sea and the few fishing boats floating just offshore was spectacular.

colva beach is in south goa, close to margao, from where i hope to catch a train to hampi on wednesday (jan 3). yes, i already can't wait to get out of here. way too many people on the weirdest night of the year. as part of the package i purchased through the travel agent in delhi, i was compelled to pay 2000 rupees (about $50) for a NYE bash at the Hotel Silver Sands Beach Resort.

i want to hide in my room. instead, i'm hiding in an internet cafe. it's now 6:45pm. the festivities start anywhere between 8 and 9pm. really. what was i thinking? if i knew (and trusted) anyone here, i'd be seeking out a psy-trance beach party, but i think they tend to occur in north goa. just as well.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE!

pushkar, rajasthan - december 26, 2006

2006-12-26T06:42:00.000-07:00

weird things happen in india.

truly.

like oddly grand hotels on the edge of Pushkar, where i arrived about 2 hours ago from Jaipur. i did not expect the luxury of the Hotel Master Paradise given the relative shabbiness of the Hotel Residency Inn that i found myself holed up in in Jaipur last night (that would be christmas night, btw).

Pushkar is the site of a lake created by Brahma and literally means "flower hand", meaning that it was created when Brahma dropped from his hand a lotus (one of of three) on the desert floor and up sprang (sprung?) a lake. Pushkar is home to the only temple to Brahma in the world. within the holarchy of the non-dual, transcendent, immanent, transpersonal, universal infinity of Brahman, the Hindu trinity, or Trimurti, of Brahma (creative force), Vishnu (preserving force) and Shiva (destructive force) has captured my attention and a good deal of my spiritual interest in the last two years. i really had no intention of coming to Pushkar. it just kind of happened. and tomorrow morning, a brahmin priest (pandit) will perform a puja for my dead parents. somehow when the subject came up yesterday while driving between Agra and Jaipur, i experienced only a moment's hesitation before saying "yes, i'd like a puja performed for my parents". of course, there will be a cost. it costs a Hindu family to have a pandit perform the puja. and if there's something in it for my driver, Ashok Kr. Gautam (!), who's been wonderful, so be it. he has 3 daughters to marry off. very expensive in this culture.

anyway. here i am in this gorgeous Hindu pilgrimage site, on the eve of a puja for my parents with a brahmin priest, after which, i will enjoy a 2-hour camel ride in this afghanistan-meets-okanagan environment.

stupefying.

and despite the hordes of (mostly indian) tourists and the hour-long queue on christmas eve day, the Taj Mahal is truly breathtaking. it was unfortunate that time prevented us from visiting Agra Fort, but we were able to be at the Taj while the sun set.

magnificent.

(by "we" i mean me and The World's Cutest Guide Ever, Pawan Singh--aka Nick--a 22-year-old dynamo studying spanish at delhi university in order to find a niche acting a s a guide for the spanish and south american market. i learned a great deal about the importance of succeeding at what you want to do. ahem. and, yes. yet another crush.)

with the help of the owner of the Hotel Residency Inn last night when i called home to convey my holiday greetings and then tried to make a hotel booking for december 28-31, i now have a reservation at the Hotel Classic in Aurangabad. this task required two calls to Aurangabad, which prompted the owner to ask why i was going there since not many tourists do. in turn, the older gentleman who had checked me in asked if i was a writer, and smiled, and when i waffled, he said "you're lucky", by which i understood him to mean that i am lucky to be a writer. this is the second time in india (the first being in a shop in Chennai) when i have been identified as a writer by an indian who seems to know something i don't.

i wasn't going to tell this story or mention Chennai, but after arriving in Pushkar, etc.--see above re the puja for the parents--i'm beginning to have a different experience of....something. i'm not sure what that is.

back to our main story.....

when i had to call the Hotel Classic back because (a) the connection was crackling and (b) i had trouble deciphering the accent of the clerk underneath the crackling, the owner came to my rescue, communicated my needs, obtained the tariff information for me and the hotel's bank account information, into which i was to desposit 1000 rupees. the owner even filled out the deposit slip for me, which he oddly had on hand. "the bank will open tomorrow morning at 9am," he told me. although i pondered the possibility that this was some scam to bilk me out of 1000 rupees, it occurred to me that the reputation of the hotel would be worth more than that, especially when in return for the favour, the owner asked for a favourable recommendation to Lonely Planet. once again, i trusted that i wasn't being led astray.

when Ashok arrived at 8am to pick me up for the day's sightseeing in Jaipur (Hawa Mahal or "Palace of Winds", Amber Fort and Jantar Mantar), he nervously asked if it was ok to take care of some business: he needed to deposit some money into his account in order for his wife to pay his cell phone bill or his service would end today. guess where he needed to make the deposit? yep. at the very same bank (ICICI) where i needed to make my deposit for the Hotel Classic, so no special trip was needed for me AND the bank was already open at 8am. in fact, Ashok took care of both pieces of banking business and provided me with the receipt i need once i get to Aurangabad and check into the hotel. he also allowed me to call the hotel on his cell to confirm the details of my arrival and the deposit of the money.

brilliant.

almost at Pushkar, Ashok (whose father is buddhist and mother is hindu), remarked on one of his favourite songs, which he began to talk about by explaining the three words of the title, Satyam Sivam Sundaram. when i remarked that one of my favourite songs at home (in fact, it's on my iPod) bears the same title, he played it for me.

same song. different singer. same song.

i feel right.

but weird things happen in india.

itinerancy - december 23, 2006

2006-12-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

two posts in two days. my relationship with this blog is becoming orgiastic.

however, it's been a very action-packed day, filled with preferences, planning and patience.

with the extraordinary effort and cleverness of Guman Singh, of Capital City Travels & Tours at the Hotel Ajanta, i've organized my itinerary for the next couple of weeks and it goes something like this:

The Golden Triangle(+) Road Trip:

December 24: Delhi to Agra, Uttar Pradesh (yes, i will spend christmas eve at the Taj Mahal, a muslim monument to lost love)

December 25: Agra to Jaipur, Rajasthan (so my dream of spending christmas in Rajasthan is realized, not just anywhere, but in the capital, the so-called Pink City *giggle*)

December 26: Jaipur to Pushkar, Rajasthan (Pushkar would be the "+")

December 27: Pushkar to Jaipur (morning camel ride, narrowly missing both christmas and boxing days. oh well, my aim was a little shakey)

Spellunking in Maharashtra:

December 28: Jaipur to Aurangabad, Maharashtra (via Mumbai)

December 29-30: Ellora and/or Ajanta Caves

Goa-ing, Goa-ing, Gone:

December 31: Aurangabad to Goa via Mumbai (ahem, yes, well, after all of my more or less internal "i have no intention of visiting Goa," not only am i going to Goa, i will be celebrating NYE there. how this happened has more to do with the logistics of the next two pieces than anything else, but i admire the forces that have pulled this wriggling rabbit out of the parapatetic hat,)

January 1-2: recovering (hehe) on the beach in Goa

January 3-5: Hampi (my first train trip...from Goa...and back...yikes. but at least i can amuse myself with the pronunciation of the destination, which is close to "humpy")

January 6: Goa to Thiruvananthapuram aka Trivandrum, Kerala

here the details become fuzzy, as well they should. i hope to meet two of the women i was travelling with through india on the child haven caravan, since they will be at the ashram of "the hugging saint", Mata Amritanandamayi Devi, otherwise know simply as Amma. i don't know whether i will join them in the ashram or not, but i've been looking forward just to being in south india for quite awhile. by the time i arrive, i'll have only just over one month left on my india visa and i think i'll be ready to plant myself in Kerala for a week or so.

i'm off.

but then, all of you knew that.

thank you for playing.

namaskahr

(btw, rod is about 3 days ahead of me, assuming he got out of kathmandu on the day of the bandh [general strike] on december 19)

on my own (again for the first time): paharganj, delhi - december 22, 2006

2006-12-22T09:50:00.000-07:00

i've been in delhi for 3 days. about 2 hours ago, i sent bonniema off the to airport to fly back to canada. i can't believe she does this four times a year. she's unstoppable and apparently inexhaustible.

unlike me.

i stop. i exhaust. rinse. repeat.

it's late (for me: see stop, exhaust, etc.): 10:23pm Dec 22. i was staying at the YMCA with bonnie for the last 2 nights. the irregular lumps of fluffy cotton batting-like material in the front gardens nicely set off the cardboard santas, jesus, mary and joseph, but i found the xmas lights a little too baroque. but then, this is india.

now i'm at the Hotel Ajanta in the chaotic district of Paharganj (thank you grant robinson, whoever you are), which in some ways resembles Thamel in Kathmandu. but it's india. (see also this take on the chaos. oh and this one, too.)

i'm going to speak to the hotel's inhouse travel agency tomorrow morning about getting to the Taj Mahal in Agra and to Jaipur. i'll think about whether i want to go further into Rajasthan, or save some time for Hampi in Maharashtra before heading much further south to Kerala. i have to remind myself not to rush the evolution of preference. it unfolds in extra dimensions outside of the usual spacetime continuum.

sidenote oddity: i said au revoir to my Danish friend, Mie, in Boudha on December 19 (remember her? we met at Kopan. she of the once-beautiful, full head of long, blonde dreds, now-beautiful with one dred and a shaved head). she was leaving for Denmark and the next segment of her journey--a 6-month course to qualify for a 6-year art program at the most prestigious art academy in Denmark. i suggested NASCAD as an alternative. :o) anyway....apart from sharing a tendency toward compulsive thinking (who me? what?), we've also both experienced flashes of homelessness, what Mie characterized in her lovely Danglish as "sort of a picture, with a feeling". yes. perfect. neither of us can explain our individual experiences of this peculiar phenomenon, nor the fact that we've both had it.

ok, actually, that's not just a sidenote, but i'm rinsing and repeating, so that means i should go to bed. now. full stop.

in the event, or the meantime, whichever comes first: may all of your holidays be filled with clown noses, polka dot fritters and the occasional gulab jamun.

ps: why do people--including me--lapse into patent falsehood as rhetorical flourish, e.g "i can't wait to [whatever]"? because, like, clearly i can. clearly i will.

clearly i must.

"when you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music....work is love made visible"

-- The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran

last days - december 19, 2006

2006-12-18T23:46:00.000-07:00

it would have been my mother's 74th birthday on december 17 and my parents' 48th wedding anniversay on december 18. on december 30, my father would turn 75. in the middle of that is the so-called holiday. i called home yesterday, where my family is. mike was characteristically off his nut; jesse was characteristically cooking 5 dishes for 12 people (it being sunday in calgary); mom was sick and could barely speak, but characteristically gushed about her 3-second "spot" on some kind of "connection line" (i think) for adam & eve's exotic boutique; gaelyn told me that she had bought me a christmas gift, characteristically, but that mom had told her she'd have to give it to me in march when i come home. i hate crying in public telephone establishments.

it's sometimes comforting, being in character.

so i'm back to being scared out of my gourd by the idea of being alone in india, which mostly manifests in relation to anticipated train/bus journeys if i want to get to some interesting out of the way places. securing my belongings is a puzzle that leaves me gasping for air and longing for home. travelling with someone would be much more comfortable. however, since this is an experiential learning environment, in which the goal is to develop a facility for joyful discomfort, a companion would, i suppose, result only in a waste of the tuition fees.

i'm riding out my last day nepal as best i can.

i left Boudha at 10am to go to Thamel (the tourist district of Kathmandu). i left with Bahadur, my trekking guide. there was some mention of a strike, which usually has meant a short slowdown in the availability of transportation. the "from 10am until 4pm" didn't register as potentially problematic. we got to Thamel. there were burning tires and most of the stores were closed. within 1/2 hour just about all of them were closed. Bahadur said i was stuck there until 4pm when the strike is over. i contemplated 6 hours in Thamel with nothing to do but wander the weirdly empty laneways. nope. not today. so we found a bicycle rickshaw-wallah who was willing to pull me all the way back to Boudha (about 1/2 hour ride). some of it was so steep that i got out and helped him push-pull the device up the hills. eventually, we were stopped by the maoists, well short of my destination. he'd offerred to take me all the way for 200 rupees. i gave him 500 (about $8). his name is Kaji.

there will be demontstrations and strikes over the next several months as nepal adjusts to a new, and new form, of government.

i walked the rest of the way to Boudha along the wide, empty road lined with closed metal roll-shuttered shops. in the absence of carnival-like traffic, i consumed the billboards, e.g. "success is demanding. success is good fun"--this copy for sandpiper [whiskey? rum? something alcoholic] overtop a greenish-blue photograph of a nepali man on the front of a speedboat [nepal being one of the poorest countries on the planet], his arms being separately tugged by two nepali women, a third snapping a photograph.

success is, indeed, very demanding.

lhasa apso facto - december 15, 2006

2006-12-15T02:40:00.000-07:00

i finally got out for some real experience of this strange and beautiful city today, accompanied by my latest mate, Prakisha, a young Nepali woman who has lived in Scarborough since she was 10. she joined up with the Child Haven Travelling Caravan in Bangladesh, where she had been volunteering in the home there since october 18.

our day started with a visit into the true heart of old Lhasa, into the Jokhang, surrounded--sometimes overwhelmed--by pilgrims bearing lamps and urns of butter to keep the many chapels lit and filled with yak butter soot, breathing ancient faith. i somehow found the courage to offer three from-standing-to-hands-and-knees prostrations before entering the temple. surrounded and stared at by people of such deep and almost impenetrable faith was a moment of true wonder for me, but it was really for Lungre and Sonam. i have felt their presence constantly here.

we tried to visit the Dropenling Handicraft Development Center, part of the Tibet Artisan Initiative, deep in the maze of streets and lanes of old Lhasa, but arrived to find a notice on the door advising us that it is closed for the "winter" season. i had hoped to support the initiative, but will settle for encouraging anyone reading this to check it out if you're ever in Lhasa. (i consoled myself by finding a gift...for someone...made by the Tibet Association for the Deaf.)

in the afternoon, for more comprehensive exterior photo-ops, we revisited The Potala, which ranks as the most photogenic architectural monument i've yet encountered. there may be others lurking in other, non-euclidian corners of the globe. i don't know if i could cope with the wonder.

Prakisha was craving french fries, so we ducked into a Dicos, sort of a Chinese amalgam of KFC and Macdonald's. i saved my container. you'll all understand why when you see it. (i couldn't find a link to their webpage, but i've got a photo....and a fry container.)

i'm a bit anxious about returning to kathmandu tomorrow. it still crackles with the scent of failure and it also means i have only a few days to make some more concrete plans for india. as The Reluctant Planner, i feel queasy. in any event, if we can change our tickets, Bonnie has asked me to fly to delhi with her on december 20 rather than december 21 since she has more work to do there. so my solo journey will truly begin on december 22. i'm still hoping to be in Rajasthan for christmas, though i may not get as far as Jaisalmer and a camel trek.

it's my last day in lhasa. the contrast between the old, convoluted, true city and the crisp, almost harsh, linear metropolis surrounding the heart is bewildering. this visit has been essential.

tashi deleg

Lhasa - december 9, 2006

2006-12-09T03:45:00.000-07:00

on the one hour flight from kathmandu to lhasa this morning, i was blessed by incredible views of everest, from just about all angles (hi rod!!). that was an unexpected treat.

i'm adjusting to the altitude (approximately 3600m). we ascend to 5000m to visit the village of the child haven home. i'm not sure when that's happening, but i've given up trying to understand why, when and how things happen. they just do. somehow.

we're staying at the Snowland Hotel near the heart of old lhasa, though the influence of the chinese presence is everywhere, with new buildings and roads. the profusion of shops and hawkers is incomprehensible, but there's a different feel to this city, with it's wide, clean streets, than there is to kathmandu. it's much more at ease. we're very close to the Jokhang Temple, sometimes called the "spiritual centre of Tibet". (if i could get wikipedia to work, i'd link that, but this connection is very dodgy.)

i'm off to rest. just a quick note to say hello from Tibet.

chittagong (or birthdays in bangladesh) - december 1, 2006

2006-12-01T02:06:00.000-07:00

THANK YOU THANK YOU to EVERYONE who sent birthday greetings!!

this is my first access to the 'net since my last post from the mumbai airport. since then, i've been to Hyderabad in Andra Pradesh, Chennai and Kaliyampoondi in Tamil Nadu, back to Mumbai, Pen and Savarsai in Maharashtra, have flown threw Kolkata en route to Dhaka, Bangladesh on my birthday and am now in a really cool cafe in Chittagong. i'm wearing a lungi, the most popular, lower body attire for men in this country.

yes. i'm wearing a skirt in public. i plan to continue the practice at home in the summer months. these puppies are WAY to comfortable and WAY to sexy, especially on the regally thin, dark men who sail like parades of living flags up and down the streetsides of this weirdly vibrant city. the traffic is even more insane than Delhi, Mumbai, Chennai or Kathmandu. it is, however, less polluted than Mumbai, whose brown sky stretches for miles upwards and outwards well into the countryside. imagine children growing up never knowing what a blue sky is.

anyway, the colours of Bangladesh have captivated me, from the brilliant variety of saris and salwar kameez of the women to the lungis and punjabi suits of the men and to the buses (pink, green, blue). the word "igloo" is used alot here. the Gelateria Igloo is just up the street from this cafe.

because of one of the frequent planned strikes that occur here, similar to those in Kathmandu, we have to carefully schedule our exit (by air) from Chittagong back to Dhaka on the morning of December 4 to be able to return to Kathmandu on December 5. it adds another level of brilliant uncertainty to this incredibly insane journey. i'm learning to accept things as they come in a way that i never dreamed possible at home. and everything seems to work out. especially once i figured out how to tie the lungi properly. :o)

and don't get me started on all of my little crushes. this trip has completely exploded my previous aesthetic.

now it's off for ice cream and a little shopping.

(there were links to all kinds of things in this post that got lost in one of the saves. i encourage you to wikipedia "lungi")

chatrapati shivaji international airport (mumbai, india) - november 19, 2006

2006-11-18T20:41:00.000-07:00

wow. wow wow wow. i love india. wow.

and wow wow wow does Bonnie Cappuccinno maintain a breathtaking and exhausting pace.

we had one full day in Delhi, visiting the MVP women's centre where destitute women are trained in sewing over 6 months with the hope that they will be able to establish their own sewing businesses. they are, without exception, among the most beautiful women i've ever encountered. and we're treated like royalty wherever we go, such is Bonnie's golden reputation and enormous goodwill.

leaving Delhi for Gandhinagar (via Ahmedabad) on november 16 required us to be up at 2:30am to load the three taxis to accommodate 6 travellers (me, bonnie, doris & jeanne-d'arc from ottawa and clasina & tony from vancouver) plus as much luggage as might be found on a space shuttle mission (mostly supplies for the homes). we have encountered NO problems. we breeze through.....like royalty.

we spent 3 fully days at the home in Gandhinagar, a strange, fully planned city laid out in 30 sectors. Sector 21 is where we were taken shopping on the first day. all of us bought material to have clothes made. we'll be attending a wedding in Kaliyampoondi (near Chennai) in about a week, so we all wanted special outfits. i had a traditional, white kurta pyjama made as well as a pair of more formal trousers that i can wear under the kurta (the long shirt) for the wedding. it all cost about 850 indian rupees (about $22), was made overnight, and fits perfectly without a fitting. wow wow wow.

on day 2, the women went to do more shopping and accompany Bonnie to meetings in Ahmedabad. i went with the home's assistant manager, Ravi, to the Akshardham Temple, built by the current incarnation of the Swami Narayan in his honour. the temple is spectacular, intricately carved over a period of 6 years from tonnes of pink sandstone brought from Rajasthan and is surrounded by a collonnades and exhibition halls.

i have to go because we've got to clear security for the next leg of hour flight to Hyderabad.

more to follow.....

i have so many good stories so far about india. nothing like the scary crap in the guidebooks.

namaste.

phasechange - november 13, 2006

2006-11-12T23:06:00.000-07:00

this phase change within the bigger phase change is curious, fascinating, frustrating, terrifying, uplifting, joyful, sad and did i mention terrifying? it's time for the real toe-dip in india. tomorrow, i leave the relative safety and comfort of boudhanath in nepal for the first time in 2 1/2 months. i'll be visiting 4 relatively rural parts of india, then muslim bangladesh. i'm expecting to be even less comfortable.

i was reminded today of a recurring, multi-level dream about lightswitches that used to terrify me in a way that can't be given word form, but i wrote a little something about it here. i've had only one dream in kathmandu worth mentioning. so i'm mentioning it only. details are pointless right now.

i'm not sure about computer access, so perhaps won't be blogging anything until i'm back in Kathmandu in early December.

i have serious concerns about whether all of my e-mails are making it to the recipients, though i get no messages indicating a problem. if you haven't heard from me, this may be the problem.

to all of you who support and inspire me and always on this journey.....

tashi delek

maharajgunj - november 6, 2006

2006-11-06T04:09:00.000-07:00

Maharajgunj

go on

say it

three times fast

dare ya ;o)

i'm not sure whether my present ebulliance (for there can be no other word) is because i got to visit the picturesque wasteland of maharajgunj twice today or because of my many accomplishments, which have left me feeling a little flushed with...something. but maybe that's just the two scoops of ice cream on the apple pie i had after lunch at 3 Sisters Rooftop Restaurant with my second-favourite server in Boudha, Bharat.

maharajgunj. it's sort of an area, and sort of a road that emerges northward out of the embassy-speckled area of kathmandu called Lazimphat, where the Canadian Cooperation Office-Nepal, which functions as our embassy, is located. on its own, the name "maharajgunj" has a kind of kitchy piquancy of which i'm beginning to understand only the nepali people are capable. but when coupled with "Ring Road", which is the intersection at which the Bangladesh Embassy is located, and where i made my way twice today, it takes on that old uglybeautiful character that i adore about this country.

me approaching one of many expectant taxi drivers outside Boudhanath gate this morning just past 9am, for Bangladesh visa applications can only be lodged at 9:30am: "Bangladesh Embassy? Maharajgunj & Ring Road? Do you know it?"

taxi driver: "yes"

me: "meter ok?"

taxi driver: "ok"

Maharajgunj & Ring Road

it's like two trains, one ugly and one beautiful, started off on opposite sides of the known (or maybe unknown) universe, built up to near-light speed and collided at the top of the indian subcontinent and, oops, out popped Nepal

even the Bangladesh Embassy itself, though representative of another sovereign state, evokes this strange quality. one could almost miss it. from the insane, exhaust-filled Ring Road, just east of its intersection with the utterly bewildering Maharajgunj, it appears to be nothing more than a squat, hospital-green painted brick structure with a militarily grey door and a small (5-inch square) window. inside the massive gate beside all of this, a gate presided over by a lovely hindu man and one of the most exquisitely beautiful nepali soldiers i've yet encountered--both of whom respond readily to smiles like most people here--another world awaits. it's a world of multi-leveled, horticultured, cobble-stoned luxury, with very expensive cars, swish-ish (it is still the third world) offices and very efficient, if not particularly jovial visa officials.

but before discovering the wonderful world of embassy, i first had to cross the Ring Road.

crossing any road in Kathmandu is an exercise of faith and considerable risk, but i've been practicing and have learned that one does it in carefully strategized stages, though one must be prepared to suddenly shift the strategy when circumstances--like, say a large, swiftly moving bus, or a motorcycle veering out from behind a slowly moving one--demand. waiting for a "break in traffic" would require more time than it would take me to fully understand Kierkegaard, if that's even a possibility. so one picks breaks piecemeal all the way across the road, moving slowly or quickly enough to either be an obstacle that no one will hit, or to avoid being an obstacle that someone will hit. it's a fascinating game. the bonus card is when, out of one of the many corners of one's eyes--since they're all simultaneously active--one spots a local or two also trying to get to the other side. like strangers suddenly caught in the embrace of a lively dance, we make our way among the craziest traffic most people will ever encounter. it's like swimming upstream, because you have to angle your approach according the size, speed, condition and proliferation of traffic. in nepal, traffic jams are a gurl's best friend.

so, like, i made it. i wanted to jump up and down and wave to my taxi driver, who offered to wait while i endured whatever process awaited me in the embassy. but seeing the soldierly face peering at me out of the little square window, i opted for decorum.

it's always a strange feeling leaving my passport in the control of a foreign power that is accessible to me only by a careening, 20-minute taxi ride through a thicket of crazy drivers, bikers, cycylists, rickshaw drivers, pedestrians and the occasional cow. but, after a process that took only about 15 minutes altogether, i was bid to return at 4:30pm to retrieve my passport with the visa, at which time i would be given a receipt.

"ah-HA!" i hear you all thinking. "silly boy. you left without a receipt?!" yes. yes, i did. i think i was still flush with my successful negotiation of the taxi ride, the taxi waiting, crossing the road and actually sitting in a visa officer's tidy office making my application in the freakin' Bangladesh Embassy in Maharajgunj, Kathmandu (and this time it couldn't be apple pie, since that was yet to come), that i simply forgot to think what leaving my passport without a piece of paper to prove that i was ever there might mean in a few hours time.

fortunately, none of this intruded on my bliss until about 3pm.....while i was eating apple pie and ice cream at the 3 Sisters Rooftop Restaurant, chatting with Bharat about the likely outcome of the talks among the government and maoists and goodness knows which players (i don't pay much attention to it) that would end at 4pm today. note to self....

but something has shifted in the last 48 hours. a kind of faith has settled in and, whatever (im)practicalities i might discover back at the Embassy, i was satisfied that i could handle it. another taxi ride, another perilous crossing of the Ring Road, a lovely namaste from the lovely hindu man behind the big, gray gate, a stolen glance at the entire edifice of the incredibly beautiful soldier, then a smile, a little nervous walk around the curving driveway to the embassy building because i was 10 minutes early, and before i could even apologize for being early (because, like, you know, i would be the kind of person to feel the need to do that), i was being waved briskly into the visa officer's office and had my passport--with the visa--and my receipt in my hand by 4:25pm. i almost skipped back out, but settled on a more extravagant namaste for the lovely hindu man in the topi that matches his suit, a wider smile for the soldier and just as big a smile from him, back across the Ring Road into my waiting taxi with the friendly driver and back to Boudha.

phew.

between the morning and afternoon visits to the Bangladesh Embassy, i made my first visit to Child Haven since before i left on trek on october 12. i had a chance to meet with the two senior staff alone (a rare treat since the office is usually as chaotic as the Ring Road) and was able to have a wonderful chat about why the Child Haven experience hadn't worked for me and was able to thank them for their understanding through my fumblings about. it was a fantastic opportunity to clear my heart and the air and to really prepare for the next piece with Bonnie-ma.

i have had a very successful day.

so ya. ebullient. it's a good word.

and it's good to feel that way today.

(it's also the second day of the buddhist full moon celebrations around the stupa and you should all read rod's tales of cambodia...)

bhaktapur & patan - november 3, 2006

2006-11-03T22:54:00.001-07:00

whatever angel(s) of mercy watch over me, i prostrate myself before them in gratitude for sparing me the ills that befell me the day i returned to kathmandu from the trek (october 25).

after surviving in some of the most primitive, unsanitary conditions for 14 days in the mountains (some of you will see the photos at some point), eating very little but the national nepali dish of dal bhat tarquari (rice, lentil soup and curried vegetables, sometimes with a spicy pickle), i experienced my first episode of nepal's version of "delhi belly" that evening and most of the next day. just when i thought i'd recovered, i stepped out of the bathroom into the main part of my room at the PRK Guesthouse in Boudha, and felt the familiar slip of something in my spinal column and then the all too familiar spasm that meant SOMETHING SERIOUS had just happened. i spent a couple of days in bed, thankful that i'd had the foresight to bring a full load of Flexoral from canada and praying that a little loving care would lead it gently into subsidence.

fortunately, that seems to have worked for the most part, though i'm still a little tender and have to watch how i move, but i'm still determined to travel with Bonnie on the 6-week junket that begins in just over a week. my latest challenge is trying to get either confirmation that i can get a "landing certificate" at the Dhaka Airport in Bangladesh when i arrive there on November 28 or else get a proper tourist visa from the Bangladesh Embassy in Kathmandu by November 13! since i haven't yet received a photocopy of my airline tickets from those in control of them in Canada, the latter could prove rather difficult. in the end, if i need a visa beforehand and can't get one, i'll have to fly back to nepal from Kolkata and wait for Bonnie to return before leaving for Tibet on December 9. as Nepali's say, ke garne? ["what can you do?"]

yesterday (Friday, November 3), Bahadur hired a driver--a Tamang friend, named Pema, of course--who ferried me and Katherine (the volunteer from Vancouver) to the exquisitely beautiful, medievally constructed city of Bhaktapur, about 40 minutes east of Kathmandu. Its Durbar Square is magnificent and competes for elegance with the Durbar Square of Patan, which we visited in the afternoon. i now have a shoulder bag bedecked in multicoloured elephants and several inexplicable photos involving erotic carvings on the roof supports of the pagoda-like temples.

now, i'm off to get my head shaved and pummeled by the lovely barber with a flair for head massage and chiropractic, eat lunch on a rooftop overlooking Boudhanath Stupa, of which i never seem to tire, and then maybe walk to Pashupatinath.

himalaya - october 12-25, 2006

2006-11-03T22:08:00.000-07:00

since words, my customary refuge, have taken refuge somewhere that is effectively inaccessible to me lately (in which, of course, there is more meaning than i can unpack right now), my experience of the himalaya--as overwhelming, ice and snowbound rocks--will remain enigmatic, if not entirely internal for some time.

(barest hint: in the Langtang region, i stood on the summit of a 4984m--that's over 16 000 feet--mountain, Tsergo Ri, just to catch a view of the REAL himalaya, like Lhangshisa Ri, one valley away. think of the Rockies covered in green....then pile another 1 or 2 ice-covered mountain ranges on top of them.)

but the shape and texture--any semblance--of that experience, however, would have been impossible for me without the enormous energy, compassion, patience, kindness and senses of humour of my tireless guide, Bahadur, and his best friend and my porter, Bimi. they happily babbled away in their native Tamang language ahead of me on the trail (except where there was some risk of serious mishap, in which case Bimi insisted on following me). their chatter became just another layer of the harmony of wind, leaves, insects and birds that kept me company for 14 days. but their devotion to my comfort and safety never wavered. my gratitude for their effort is boundless.

of course, there were also the people of the mountains living out their lives filled with cows, yaks, stone-and-mud huts, as well as the endless parade of porters (men and women) bearing enormous loads of supplies for the string of "teahouses" that form small clots along these ancient trails, loads clinging to their backs and slung from thick bands around their foreheads. and then, the women--for it was usually, though not exclusively, women--who prepared my meals. sometimes, because of the cold mornings, i was honoured to sit immediately in front of the immaculate stone and mud stoves in their kitchens with elegant tops for holding all manner of pots and pans while they prepared my breakfast (oat porridge with apple, milk coffee and fresh chapati with peanut butter), and sometimes they did so with small children nestled against their backs in broad, faded pieces of cloth.

so for now, all i can offer of my experience of the himalaya is this:

rhythm

there are as many
as there is

one

(all others are encouraged to visit Nepal. i'm on good terms with a spectacular guide.)

yuddah magar - october 9, 2006

2006-10-08T04:39:00.000-06:00

i suppose this post was always going to be about death.

buddhists tend to spend a great deal of their practice meditating on impermanence and the suffering (or unsatisfactoriness--the Pali word is dukkha) we experience as a result of our grasping at inherent emptiness, like our selves. tibetan buddhists have some elaborate meditations on death, too.

i've been back in Boudha since the afternoon of october 6. the course was enormously challenging on so any levels, including the palpable disconnect between me and the primary teacher--a buddhist nun who's been at Kopan since 1975. or perhaps it was a disconnect between me and the teachings of mahayana buddhism, which is the school practiced by tibetans. or perhaps i was just disconnected from everything....except my little crushes on some (ok, many) of the monks. maybe it's somethng about shaved heads, maroon garments and saffron robes.

in any case, i have confirmed that the mahayana path is not my path. i'll stick with the "lesser vehicle" of hinayana for now, though even that may fall away once i've been to Pondicherry in India, where i hope to be exposed more comprehensively to the thinking of Sri Aurobindo. (my guilty secret: i was reading The Future Evolution of Man during the course and paying less attention to the course materials.) but more of him much later.

living at Kopan for 10 days often seemed like what i imagine it would be like to live in an M.C. Escher painting, especially one of his works with many staircases. and although it is pleasantly aloof from the hubbub of Kathmandu, perched on a lovely hillside, it lies more or less on the approach path to the Kathmandu airport, so that every time a jet flew overhead, i wanted it to take me back to Canada. i've finally found homesickness, or rather, it's found me.

but this post is really about death and though homesickness can feel like a sort of living death, it isn't at all like the death of a small boy named Yuddah Magar in his home district of Dhading, where he travelled with his sister, Rayala, to be with their family during the Dasain festival, which has just ended with the full moon. both Yuddah and Rayala lived at Child Haven. when i walked to the home from Boudha this morning to find Scott or Katherine, hoping to retrieve my extra belongings from the volunteers' quarters, i was met at the gate by one of the older boys, Raju, who told me that someone had "expired" (this seems to be the preferred english word). i met with the clearly shattered staff (Scott and Katherine weren't on site) and assisted them with writing an e-mail to the Canadian office providing them with as much information as we had. what we knew was that Yuddah became very ill (vomiting and diarrhea) and died within 2-3 days of the onset of symptoms.

i don't even remember this boy, even after seeing his photo.

since the only purpose of my 30-minute walk from Boudha to the home was to get my stuff and i couldn't find a key to get into the room to get my stuff and i was in a weird state of shock about this death and how i participated in the communication to the Canadian office and one of the girls had smeared a large red tikka on my forehead that i felt very self-conscious about walking all the way back to Boudha hoping to find one of the other volunteers and just wanted to wash it off my forehead and tried so hard to be grateful for the compassion that was bound up in the gesture and was frustrated and hungry and grasping at everything about which i had just spent 10 days in a monastery learning was an unskilful way of living (not that this was news to me), i was naturally very, very confused.

i tried writing this post yesterday, but failed, as much from my impatience as the incredibly poor service at the (different and new to me) 'net cafe i'd chosen.

all i want to write about are the staircases at Kopan. so many staircases in so many strange places and odd angles and colours, some very old, some very new. i took photos of so many staircases. i also wanted to write about the food, mostly the freshly ground peanut butter with warm roti that accompanied the slightly sweet morning porridge. oh, and the couple of crazy friends that emerged from the group of 34 participants: Mie (pronounced Me-uh) from Denmark and Alfrida from Sweden.

The day after the course, I met Alfrida just north of Boudha so that we could listen to more dharma from a well-known teacher, Chokyi Nyima Rinpoche at the White Monastery, very close to Boudha. Alfrida is a neurotic 22 year old only child who is, like me, always afraid, so she just does stuff because she's afraid anyway, so doing the stuff that scares her isn't going to make her feel differently. i like Alfrida.

Mie is an artist. She's been volunteering as a "didi" in a home for young girls in a different part of Kathmandu. She caught lice from the girls and had to ask the "shaving monk" to shave off all but one of the incredibly beautiful, long dreads she's had for years. Mie is completely crazy. She made a spaceman just to travel with her. She takes photos of the spaceman in various places. Sometime after my trek, Mie wants to do a photoshoot with me and her "spaceman". i like Mie.

i will leave on my trek this thursday, so i'll be out of touch until october 26 or 27. i'm meeting my guide, Bahadur, in less than an hour to brave the insanity of the city to procure some things i'll need. on 3 of the mornings at Kopan, enjoying our morning tea at 6am, the very top of Ganesh Himal could be seen beyond the green rim of the Kathmandu Valley. it was any icy white hint of a completely different universe that i'm excited to see. it's just going to be me, Bahadur and a porter from his village. perfect.

i'll be hanging out in Boudha (more or less - there may be some side trips to Patan, Pokhara and Bhaktapur) until November 14 when the next 6 weeks of fun begin as i am blessed with the opportunity to travel with Bonnie Cappuccinno. here is the itinerary:

Nov 14-16: Delhi, India

Nov16-19: Gandhinagar, India

Nov 19-22: Hyderabad, India

Nov 22-25: Kaliyampoondi, India (south of Chennai)

Nov 25-28: Savarsai, India (south of Mumbai)

Nov 28-Dec 5: Chittagong, Bangladesh

Dec 5-9: Kathmandu

Dec 9-16: Tibet (i hope to see more than just Lhasa in a week)

Dec 16-21: Kathmandu

I'll finally leave Nepal for Delhi on December 21. I'm planning to meet Scott, the other male volunteer, somewhere in South India before heading to Pondicherry.

i'm going to be buying a really nice, fleece-lined, hand-knit sweater today, both for the trek and for Tibet.

but i'm still lost in self-cherishing and trying to understand the death of a 13-year-old boy that i wish i could remember.

over and out.

inner warriors: september 26, 2006

2006-09-25T22:16:00.000-06:00

the Daily OM for september 25 ("stoking the fire within: awakening the inner warrior") begins:

"There are certain personality archetypes that we all carry within us, such as the inner child, the lover, and the mother. Some of these archetypes present themselves strongly, while others lay fallow. For example, there is an inner warrior in each one of us, but in some of us this warrior is underdeveloped to the point that we are unable to stand up for ourselves, even when necessary. There can be many reasons for this. We may have grown up with a parent whose warrior aspect was overdeveloped, and we responded by repressing ours completely. On the other hand, we may have grown up with parents in whom this aspect was dormant, so we never learned to awaken it in ourselves.

A warrior is someone with the strength to stand up for what he or she believes; someone who perseveres in the face of challenges and obstacles; someone who speaks and acts in the service of an ideal; someone who protects those who are too weak to fight for themselves. Regardless of the reasons for an underdeveloped inner warrior, you may begin to notice the lack of its fiery, protective presence and wish to awaken it. You may need to stand up for yourself in a certain relationship or situation, or you may have a vision you want to realize, and you know you will need the courage, energy, and strength of a warrior to succeed. Similarly, if you find that you often feel scared, anxious, or powerless, rousing this sleeping ally may be just the antidote you need."

i'm about to hike up to the monastery for 10 days of intense tibetan buddhism. my inner child is wailing; my warrior is perennially en vacance. maintaining e-mail contact is even difficult. i'm going to speak to a lama about an upgrade.

none of which is pertinent. what is pertinent is something i shared with some of you directly by e-mail yesterday. it has not rained yet today, but the last few days have dumped enough preciptation on the kathmandu valley to moisten it into a quagmire that neatly reflects my interior life. ok, so maybe it was pertinent. in any event, what i shared was this:

it isn't sunshine here. in fact it's been raining for 3 days. yesterday, this seemed to be a good reason for someone (it's never really clear who has any authority over anything here or if it's ever exercised for the public good) to shovel out into the muddy, nearby intersection the pile of refuse that was (naturally) composting at the side of the road, there being nothing here that approximates municipal garbage collection....unless you count the sacred cows who seem to subsist on it. in the ensuing downpour, the road became a gigantic sewage viaduct. this is life in suburban kathmandu. i'm learning to walk quickly, but always with an eye to what i might be about to step in. there are cows, goats, chickens, ducks, dogs--and occasionally humans--engaging in all manner of activity along the backroads northeast of the city that i presently consider to be home.

i'm off to see the wizard....

:o)

wherefore art me - september 24, 2006

2006-09-24T01:15:00.000-06:00

i've now been into the heart of Kathmandu three times. i'm still not sure i'm ready to brave it on my own, but i don't need to think of that until after the meditation course at Kopan, which starts on Tuesday.

The first (last sunday?) was a quick afternoon tour with Bahadur and Katherine through Durbar Square, Freak Street (after the many hippies who gathered here in the 60s and 70s for the ubiquitous and very cheap weed and hashish, which i understand pretty much grows wild everywhere here) and the Thamel district.

The second was a full day on tuesday, september 19, with Bahadur's cousin, Bim, who is also a trekking guide, but whose English is significantly better. Bahadur and Bim met Katherine and me at Cafe New Orleans, now clearly my favourite nutritional oasis, in Boudhanath. Bahadur and Katherine went off to visit Patan, which is south of the Bagmati River and was once a separate kingdom, but is now part of the larger "conurbation" (not my term, but i kind of like it) of Kathamndu. I hope to visit Patan before I leave Nepal.

Bim had an itinerary already designed, and it started with getting me registered with the Canadian Cooperation Office-Nepal in Lazimpath (north of Thamel), which serves as the Canadian Embassy. then we moved to the the very place i had in mind to start with: Swayambhunath, frequently, though unfairly, i think, referred to as The Monkey Temple owing to the hordes of monkeys inhabiting the hill on which the temple is located. I won't try to recount the legend of Swayambhunath (though check here for a bit of it), but it does involve some role as a kind of geological refuge during the time when the Kathmandu Valley (perhaps 200,000 years ago) was a primordial lake (there is evidence that this was the case).

i was accosted at the base of the steps leading up to the temple by a coupled of saffron-robed sadhus, who, without warning, planted a tikka on my forehead and showered me with marigold petals before asking for baksheesh ("donation"). when i offered a 2 rupee coin, one of them practically hissed at me and muttered "100 rupees", but i wasn't in the mood for extortion and moved on. it wasn't the easiest or most peaceful or most compassionate introduction to one of the most sacred places in the Kathmandu Valley. I was also almost attacked by a monkey when i stopped to take it's photo, so the ascent was fraught with danger. Add to all of that the hawkers selling their wares all the way up the steps as well as among the 108 smaller stupas at the top and you get a flavour for nepali spiritualism. If i'm remembering my history lesson, though, this site has been a buddhist sacred space since the 6th century. There is also a legend, which some accept as fact (i'm leaving the question open) of an 8th century ascetic, Shantikar Acharya, who still lives many levels down in a locked cell in a smaller temple in the complex, called Shantipur.

Bim also took me back to Durbar Square, which is hardly a square, but is filled with astonishing and fascinating architecture, including the building allegedly made from a single tree in the 12th century, which is called Kasthamandap and is probably the source of Kathmandu's name. Kasthamandap was a resting place along the trade route between India and Tibet. (Patan and Bakhtapur also have their own Durbar Squares, just to keep things simple.) The Nine-Storey Palace -- the original royal palace--is particularly mind-boggling: all wood that has been carved so intricately that one wonders how it's survived. the residence of the Living Goddess (the embodiment of Taleju Bhawani), Kumari Ghar, is just as mind-boggling, however the fact that a very young girl is effectively captive for the first tender years of her life before she runs out of usefulness is a bit difficult to swallow.

in a shop in Thamel, we ran into Bim's father, now in his 70s and an ordained monk. Bim helped me purchase a string of prayer beads that he subsequently helped me have properly "kitted out" at another shop in Boudhanath with better string and the counting strings with their sterling silver counters, bell and vajra (or dorje in Tibetan). Bim encouraged me to take them with me to Kopan to be properly blessed by a lama and to receive a mantra.

after all of that, we had a relatively quick tour of the holiest Hindu complex in Kathmandu, perhaps in all of Nepal: Pashupatinath (pronounced, basically, "posh-potty-naht". Pashupatinath is to Nepal Hindus what Varanasi is to Indian Hindus. it is considered the most sacred temple to Shiva (The Destroyer) in the world. i observed my first cremations at the ghats along the absolutely filthy, but entirely sacred, bagmati river. they were, according to Bim, "poor" cremations, with the wealthier families staging their cremations further up towards the main temple (no non-hindus allowed). although i did take a photo of the pyres from the bridge, we were approached by a young hindu man who wanted to be my guide. i think i set the fox amongst the chickens when i said that i already had a guide and indicated Bim, who is, of course Tamang and Buddhist (both of which would be obvious to the young hindu man). A vigorous discussion took place between the two of them, which led to Bim and I walking up the stone steps to the viewing area well above the complex itself. It started to rain so heavily, though, that we had to make our way into the area of the 108 shrines to Shiva, each containing a lingam, and took refuge in a small structure that Bim said would ordinarily be occupied by priests. i was so fascinated by the downpour and the atmosphere of the place that i didn't try to engage any of the other 5 men in conversation, who were taking similar refuge.

the rain cut short our visit to this magnificent and powerful place, but it is within walking distance from Boudhanath and i plan to return on my own. if i have to pay a couple of hundred rupees to a local to show me everything (that i'm allowed to see), so be it. at least my visit here has confirmed my desire to visit Varanasi once I get to India.

my THIRD visit to Kathmandu was with the grade 4 students from the Child Haven Green Tara school this past Wednesday (September 20), but this time, instead of the relative luxury of taxis, we all crowded onto a local bus at Tintchuli (just south of Aaru Bari where the home is located) and bounced and jostled our way through Chabahil, Mahankil and then into the city itself. It was an hour of amusing discomfort.

we first stopped at the base of the Bhimsen Tower, the tallest structure in Kathmandu, where the attendants very kindly let us all in free (tourists would be expected to cough up 290 rupees, or about $4.) then it was back into the wilds of Durbar square where the children were the very willing recipients of loads of attention from other tourists, who wanted to take their picture. we toured the Hanuman-Dhoka palace and its almost endless series of museums before making our way to the rather threadbare Ratna Park for tiffin (i.e. tea or lunch). Katherine and I bought bananas and a slightly spicy fried dough treat to add to the food provided by the home (crisped beaten rice with a bit of seasoning). After tiffin, we walked past the sadly grand Rani Phokari, which is a small temple in the middle of a large, green pond, reached by a long causeway. It is opened only once during the festival of Tihar, which follows immediately after Dasain. (Dasain commenced yesterday, btw, so many of the children have gone to their families.) A walk by Ghanta Ghar (the clock tower) and it was back to the bus stop and a bone-jarring ride back to Aaru Bari.

yesterday, i ran into Katherine while i was enjoying coffee and "tofu energy" at Cafe New Orleans. we ended up chatting with a lovely young woman, Sarah, from Sydney, Australia, who's also a recovering lawyer. she came along with us to visit one of the tibetan buddhist monasteries ringing the hills around the valley, Pullahari, which is about a 40-minute walk from the Child Haven home. Pretty spectacular, perched on the edge of a hill as it is, so the view was extraordinary. We were even more surprised by the small tuck shop, where we ate samosas and pakodas (pakoras) and Katherine and I enjoyed truly delicious cups of coffee (made with an espresso machine). you gotta love tibetan buddhist monks.

So, I'm now just preparing for my 10 days at Kopan Monastery. I've been reading The Fundamentals of Tibetan Buddhism by Rebecca Novick, which I found much more digestible and helpful than the Dalai Lama's book.

Oh and I do have news: I AM going to to Tibet. I spoke to the travel agent in Kathmandu and he is booking my flight to coincide with Bonnie's, so I will be there from December 16-23. I haven't checked my e-mail yet today to know whether the Ottawa travel agent has been able to get me to Delhi on November 14 to connected with Bonnie, but I'll know more later.

Since I'm heading into relative seclusion for the next 10 days (as of Tuesday), i likely won't be posting for awhile or checking e-mail. I'll check back in as soon as I can.

on the move - september 17,2006

2006-09-16T23:39:00.000-06:00

i moved from the PRK Guesthouse yesterday afternoon and stayed in the Khumbu Hotel last night, but broke from my banana pancake tradition at breakfast this morning to eat a masala omelette with two pieces of buttered toast with jam (and a cappuccino...in honour of fred and bonnie, naturally)

on the way from the Khumbu to my NEXT accommodation, the Pema Lhamo Guesthouse, which I think will be quieter and is somewhat cheaper, i ran into Katherine's friend, Bahadur, my intended trekking guide. I had planned to call him today anyway, but now I have a date with Bahadur and his cousin, Bim (who he calls his "brother") at the New Orleans Cafe at 9:30am on Tuesday. I've asked for a day with Bahadur (and Bim, if he chooses) in Kathmandu to show me around and orient me. I still have to register my presence here with the Canadian Consulate in Lazimpath, which is north of the famous Thamel district (see also here) and is where all of the embassies are located. I don't think I would worry about it, but there have been some incidents of roads being blocked and strikes as the government and the maoists continue to figure out how to make things work, or if they can be made to work. Anyone interested in the current affairs in this part of the world can check out The Himalayan Times. I haven't read it often enough to suss out it's particular bias, if any. (note to self....).

as much as i would love to post photos, i have to say that the connection speeds are very slow and sporadic. it can take 5-10 minutes for something to happen. if i can find a place in kathmandu, or maybe delhi, i'll try to upload a bunch to Flickr and anyone interested can check them out there.

on the subject of delhi, it looks like i will be accompanying Bonnie Cappuccino on her fall progress. she arrives in Delhi en route to Ahmedabad in Gujarat i believe on November 16. she has a fairly jumbled, whirlwind tour of the child haven homes in india, then bangladesh and then tibet before returning to kathmandu. i'm just sorting out the arrangements now and will post an itinerary when it's settled, but it looks like i'll at least get to spend one week in Tibet from December 9-16.

on a related note, when i asked for a suitable book to read prior to the 10-day meditation course, the library at the Kopan Monastery loaned me The World of Tibetan Buddhism by the Dalai Lama. I read two chapters and had to put it down, finding it utterly incomprehensible (i want to say incoherent, which would be more accurate, but i feel bound by a sense of deference to the Dalai Lama not to say that). perhaps if i perserved, it might illuminate the real highlights of tibetan buddhist philosophy, but the portions that i read seemed more concerned about the relationships between the differents turnings of the wheel of Dharma and which sutras are more profound than others rather than building up from the basics of the Buddha's teachings (from the Four Noble Truths upward through the Noble Eightfold path and how these have evolved into the form of Buddhist philosophy and practice that is vastly more complex than the Theravadan school with which i am more familiar. i'm disappointed, but have accepted that i am simply meant to show up at the course with an open mind and listen. i'm consoling my disappointment with the Dalai Lama's book by devouring the slim, and immeasurably more intuitive and straightforward Meditation in Action by Chogyam Trungpa.

today, i'm walking back up to Child Haven to meet with KP-sir (the acting manager) and Kanya-miss (the office manager) to discuss my decision about child have and what smaller projects i may be able to assist them with when i am still in the area. i'm hoping to update the photo boards of the children that are mounted above the dining hall and to fix the Karam Boards so that the pockets are all covered with mesh to catch the playing discs. (Karam Board is vaguely like pool, only it's played on a square board with oversized tiddly-winks. I haven't yet figured out the rules.)

namaste

where to begin - september 15, 2006

2006-09-15T05:15:00.000-06:00

to say that the last several days have been an amusement park ride of unusual thrills and correlative g-forces would approximate my experience, but only just this side of statistical significance. (that made sense in my head and i'm ok with that.)

despite the enthusiasm that seemed to pour like syrup from my last post, i have now accepted that, while the journey to kathmandu to visit the child haven home was entirely meant to be and is an essential step on the path, i have run up against very real limitations in my ability to be creative, constructive, energetic and compassionate with such a large group of incredibly boisterous, frequently unruly and demanding, though completely wonderful little human beings. i'm just not cut from the kind of cloth that can hold all of their stuff. not yet anyway. i feel like one of them, in many ways and for many reasons, but the fact that i am on a journey to free myself from the clutches of certain fears and i haven't yet done that contributes mostly to feelings of frustration, anger and hopelessness when faced with the daily demands of the child haven home. it's more than i have to give at this point.

the other two volunteers, Scott and Katherine, have been incredibly supportive throughout my physical illness and the wild gyrations of my mental-emotional machine. those to whom i've written e-mails and/or for whom i've left tearful voice messages (you know who you are) have been immediately forthcoming with the kind of wisdom that only the very oldest souls are, i believe, able to communicate in a meaningful way. that i am blessed by the presence of these souls and the shower of their wisdom is pretty fucking remarkable. ahem. one day my creative spark will light a bonfire under the possibilities of expressing true gratitude beyond the tepid, albeit honest, "thank you".

because of the sinus infection that had me laid pretty low since september 5, and is still hanging in but improving, i gave in to suggestions to try antibiotics. i was responding to what seemed to be a collective level of alarm that i took as a reflection of a state of my being that i was choosing not to see (that whole fear of failure thing, perhaps). one doesn't need a doctor for these sorts of things. a charming pharmacist with very good english is just up the road from this internet cafe. i bought a 5-day course of some relative of erythromycin. i'm starting to feel much better today, though i'm sure that has something to do with making a decision about child haven.

so i will be moving out of the accommodation provided for the volunteers and, for the next week, will stay in a guest house in Boudha--either the PRK Guesthouse, where i've spent the last 3 days, or the Pema Guesthouse.

the PRK (Pal Rapten Khangsar) Guesthouse isn't mentioned in any guidebooks that i've seen, but it's beautiful and clean. it's run by the Tharig Monastery, one of the many tibetan buddhist monasteries surrounding the boudhanath stupa precinct. however, it's close enough to the stupa and the main road (rutted, boulder-filled and pot-holed) north to Tintchuli and Aaru Bari that it can be fairly noisy until after 10pm. it has a really beautiful little garden space with a replica of the stupa in a mandala at the centre of the garden. the staff are charming. because of the recent increase in political troubles here, there are fewer tourists than usual for this time of the year. i doubt that more than a handful of people are staying in the guesthouse. i'm paying 500 nepali rupees per night, or about CAN$7.50. the hot shower alone is worth it.

the Pema Lhamo Guesthouse is mentioned in the Rough Guide to Nepal and is a little more tired looking than the very fresh PRK, but it's well away from the main road and seems quieter. i've negotiated a double room (instead of a single) for one week for 550 NRS per night (about $8) if i choose to stay there.

today, i enjoyed a truly delicious breakfast at what i think is called the Khumbu Hotel overlooking the stupa: 8-inch round, half-inch thick banana pancake with a really light syrup, fresh fruit and curd (i.e. yogurt) and my first latte (first coffee, actually) in nepal. after breakfast i tried to find a more detailed map of this area so that i'd have some reference to find the Kopan Monastery, which is about 3km north of Boudha. however, the universe was determined that i was going to find my own way and, with only a general sense of direction and my newfound willingness to ask the locals, i found myself at the top of the ridge on which the monastery sits. it's a newer monastery (built in the 1970s), and the stupa is a bit gaudy, containing all sorts of relics of former Rinpoches and dharma texts. it's called the 1000 Relic Stupa. i'm confused by the significance of these material things in a belief system that, i thought, was about non-attachment.

i will have an opportunity to explore those questions, however, because when i made my way to the reception office, a poster above the door announced the next introductory 1o-day meditation course and retreat from september 26-october 5. naturally, this was a sign, since the Dashain festival starts on September 23 and i do want to spend some time at the home with the children who remain there during the festival (about 40 out of 104). we'll fly kites, the traditional pastime at Dashain, which is immediately followed by another festival, Tihar, during which, among many other things, younger sisters mark older brothers with the tikka on their foreheads. so i'll have 3 days of Dashain, then my meditation course--which i registered for on the spot--and then, hopefully within a week afterwards, i'll be trekking in the Langtang/Gosainkund/Helambhu areas of the Himalayas (not my photo here).

the trekking thing kind of came out of nowhere since i hadn't really planned it, but volunteer Katherine visited nepal 17 years ago and went trekking with a charming and scrupulously honest man from an unpronounceable Tamang village. i enjoyed tea with both of them two days ago and Bahadur, the guide, was kind enough to invite me back to his temporary home in Boudha where he has two rooms, one for him and the kitchen and one upstairs for two of his daughters, who attend a nearby english school. his wife remains in the village with 2 other children, while his oldest boy is off doing his own thing somewhere in kathmandu or boudha (i'm not quite sure i got the story). Bahadur's english is excellent and he seems to know his stuff and i feel very comfortable with him. he's making a trek sound like a piece of cake and has offered to practically do everything for me, including finding all of the gear i'll need to rent. i may even get to visit his family in his village.

i've met some astonishingly lovely people. of all things about this journey so far, that is what sustains me. there are smiles everywhere. there's also sewage and waste and chickens and goats and maimed cats and dogs and flyblown meat and poverty of a quality that absolutely defies description. everything here is uglybeautiful. it's like ugly and beautiful were placed like two protons at either end of a huge particle accelerator and sent careening toward one another at near light speed and, oops, out popped nepal in all kinds of bizarre, uglybeautiful manifestations. and it's not just squashed together tenements and brash mansions all higgledy-piggledy--there are plenty of those odd couples--but even in individual people and in individual things, the uglybeautiful is omnipresent. it opens up one's perspective in a hitherto unknown sphere. i love the stench and the garbage and the bright blue and pink multi-leveled homes and the sari-draped women, who somehow manage never to attract a splash of mud even on the wettest days, and the countless shops selling way too many sweet things and buckets.

for those waiting for photos, i'll try to get a mostly photo entry (including some of the beautiful children) up in the next couple of days. uploading photos can be very time consuming here.

namaste

bouddha, nepal - september 4, 2006

2006-09-04T01:07:00.000-06:00

just a quick update: my mind would like me to believe that i'm running on pure adrenaline, but as of this moment, after a frank and productive planning meeting with scott over nepali massala tea, fruit and yoghurt and a yummy piece of apple pie at Cafe New Orleans in Bouddhanath, i say "oh, bollocks!" i'm so energized right now, especially after my first hair-raisingly scary "special [or "extra"] class yesterday afternoon--i.e. one in which i was expected to be the teacher. i wanted the children to draw pictures of themselves, but none of them liked that idea, so they drew, coloured, painted whatever they wanted and it was pure, unfiltered chaos. fortunately, one of the didis was there to help me. i was completely unprepared (note to self....). but it can't be any worse than that. i ended up doing two in a row. i'm learning how to make flowers out of tiny pieces of paper. i'll do it again this afternoon, but scott and i are sharing the later class and will bring out cricket bats that he picked up the other day. we'll let them hit balls and chase them (see previous post re aussie rules football...)

gurilla has written recently about feeling untouched by death or illness. i think i might have agreed with him before this moment, but this place defies that belief for me. life and death and illness and beauty and truth are so immediate here. i've already been scammed by a beautiful young hindu woman with a 3 month old baby and almost flawless english wanting powdered milk. i could have backed out once i realized what was going on, but accepted it as part of the journey to know what it really felt like to let go of the judgments as they arose (of her, her lurking "pimp", the cashier in the store where i purchased the milk, and, of course, me). the limping, undernourished dogs, the toothless beggars, the women bearing impossible burdens of twigs, vegetation of all kinds and even baskets of sand, all strapped from their foreheads all participate in an insanely beautiful dance with everything that is magic here--magic that i'm perfectly incapable of giving form to in words. everyone is full of smiles and namastes and what is your name and where are you from and it just blossoms everywhere. even the untreated wastewater and rubbish everywhere remind me that i'm living right now.

i'm still adjusting and that will take a week or two, but i've already been lost once and found my way to where i wanted to go. and in that respect, please walk through whichever door suits you.

namaste

kathmandu, nepal - september 2, 2006

2006-09-02T00:58:00.000-06:00

actually, i'm in between the separate community called bouddha (surrounding the larget buddhist stupa in asia, bouddhanath) and aaru bari, which is where the child haven home is located.

i'm overwhelmed. it's full-on and beautiful and wrenching and terrifying and did i mention it's beautiful? even the busy streets of kathmandu itself are vibrant in their own polluted way

the children, however, are definitely the most vibrant part of this. they are endless wells of curiosity and smiles and love and affection from the moment i arrived. by 10am this morning, after breakfast (of daal-bhat taarkari) i felt like i'd worked a full day. i'm going to be the butt of many practical jokes. oh, and i should never be allowed near a basketball. i managed to conk a very little one on the head my first shot this morning. i think i'll stick to walking in the morning, a little gymnastics (did my first cartwheels in years today) and tutoring.

i'm not alone. anna, from ottawa and who was with me at the orientation, picked me up at the airport and has introduced me to the joys of haggling and being at peace with the chaos, thought that's going to take some time to figure out. she leaves monday to continue her journey in india. but i have an unexpected roommate, scott, from england, who's been travelling in asia for several months and ran into anna's friend, sadie, when they were in dharamsala. sadie suggested child haven and he arrived the same day i did. once again, go team synchronicity. the next volunteer, katherine (a retired nurse, also from my orientation group), will arrive september 6.

despite my positive thinking about being here alone, i think it could have been catastrophic trying to figure this out without a little help. i'm so grateful for the the presence of anna and scott. finding a role in relation to the children, particularly the older boys, is going to be a fascinating process.

btw, it's true what the guidebooks say: nepali boys are very affectionate with one another, and now me. there's a great deal of handholding, cuddling, arm-in-arm stuff that is such a shock. it will take considerable getting used to. nevermind, the whole experience is just wild. i'm learning how to eat with the fingers of my right hand. it's an art. i'm being gently teased about it, but all the children are so supportive of my learning. it's so cool.

but it's also very hot. VERY hot. it's just the end of the monsoon, so the roads (if you care to be that generous with terminology) are often muddy tracks. but the home is located in an absolutely spectacular town, aaru bari, that is a perfect, calm oasis from the hubbub of even bouddha, let alone kathmandu, which i'll make my way to once i've settled in to life at the home.

i'm all over the place....

learning the children's names is incredibly challenging since they all sound kind of bubbly and full of trills and whimsical consonants. it's embarassing to forget the names of even those who've given me so much attention. fortunately, they tend to wear the same clothes for several days, so i can put faces to clothes. their personalities are outrageous. one project that scott and i will work on is updating the photo boards above the entrance to the dining hall. they don't accurately portray many of the children who've grown up since the photos were taken.

i'm glad that scott--who was a businessman for 8 years before leaving it all behind to work with children and children's programs and is now a practicing buddhist (don't ask me the discipline: he chants in japanese sanskrit)--is also here. he's got the capacity to be more of a father figure. i can work in the kitchens and do laundry like anna.

but i have to leave. the other two have finished.

more later.

i'm happyscared.

it's all good.

post script: perth - august 30, 2006

2006-08-30T08:51:00.000-06:00

i have a heartening message from my travelling guru in vancouver, rod (on the verge of his own departure for asia on september 16), and a perfectly glorious meal with extraordinary people tonight at the Subiaco Hotel (server Stephen from vancouver!) to thank for this last, fumbling effusion from australia, none of which will surprise anyone.

my mind wants to continually drag me into a place where i'm not prepared, not ready, uncertain, off balance, doing it wrong, blah blah blah. i'm doing it and it's really happening and whatever happens, i'm making it so and that's pretty fucking cool. there's excitement in that, though it's not the kind of excitement that people seem to be looking for when they ask, as they inevitably do: "so, are you excited?" i hate that question because i feel compelled to conventionalize my response, to package it up and merchandise it for better consumption. it makes me feel like a social commodity.

i can't put this experience into a nice box for the rest of the world that makes sense and makes everyone else feel comfortable. it makes writing these posts excruciating because the same part of me that wants me to believe i'm screwing it up (for a host of convenient, drop-down menu reasons) is the same part of me that wants the rest of the world to believe that this is all fun. it's not. it's fucking scary. it's the scariest thing i've ever done while mired in the muck of being a body. but it is certainly an adventure and, in rod's words, i feel calm and ready, despite any impression left by my ongoing fulminations.

i'm sated with food and good humour and the acceptance of my blessings and my shocking insanity.

so, like, i'll catch y'all in kathmandu (sorry....couldn't resist)

in the meantime, my favourite photo so far: some majestically twisted graffiti on a mysterious, abandoned building at the entrance to Noosa National Park in Queensland. and just to prove that i was there, the inimitable Sydney Opera House.

in medias res

2006-08-29T04:06:00.000-06:00

despite its absolute, bone-jarring familiarity--the sense of always being in progress, a beginningless beginning or an endless ending (hell, why not both)--i am, just as always, flummoxed by it.

yesterday, when i started writing this post, was a "get to it" day: get up, get going, get out, get stuff, get back. get-get-get. i'm sure the sound of it could be neatly mapped onto one of the strange avian species that australians rarely notice, but i can't not. (it was also a day of double negatives and negative doubles. a wrigley's gum day, in an inverted sort of way.)

today, i have no idea what i'm doing, saying, thinking, feeling, but in furtherance of getting to it, i'm just getting something down. so those of you, like mr. barker, who's eyes are set to rolling by my flash-flood stream of consciousness, may wish to read no further. you have been warned.

lindy and i drove to margaret river on friday (august 25) and stayed with her friends, patsy & chris, until monday (august 28). there was wine, there was tremendous food, there was footy. in fact, i will take this opportunity to come fully out of the spacious, if not especially well-appointed, footy closet. appointments can be highly overrated, especially when there are footy players to engage one's renegade attention.

although we were piled up inThe Knights Inn of the Margaret River Resort to experience the West Coast Eagles and the Fremantle Dockers, i feel giddily confident that it wouldn't really matter who was playing. i am

(wait for it)

a fan of the Australian Football League (AFL).

to my neophyte's eye, the game plays out as a dizzy fusion of (north american) football, rugby, soccer and basketball with a volleyball garnish. i have yet to figure out the rules completely, but at the moment, they seem to be extraordinarily secondary. tertiary, in fact, since the game itself is secondary to the players. don't mistunderstand me: it's a game of truly bewildering stamina and athleticism. these guys are are incomprehensibly fit. but after all, it's like all other incomprehensible games in which very fit men are paid incomprehensible heaps of cash to chase a small object around a playing surface according to incomprehensible rules in order to sell incomprehensible products to an incomprehensible audience. we won't talk about the distressing prevalence in "aussie rules" of the so-called "micro-mullet". we'll simply note the otherwise unobjectionable Ben Cousins, Chad Fletcher & Matthew Pavlich and move on.

there has been watching of australian idol, too, which somehow manages to defy my disgust, but that may have something to do with the accent. of those who might actually have a shot at winning, i'm cheering for dean geyer. of the others, bobby flynn is truly brilliant, truly individual. he could hold his own against the damien rices and jack johnsons of the world.

ask me about aussie slang when you next speak to me.

over the course of the weekend holiday, lindy and i also visited two of the Margaret River Caves--Jewel and Lake--the Brown Hill winery, Canal Rocks in Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park near Yallingup (the countryside is sprinkled liberally with placenames suffixed with "up", which means "water" in the local aboriginal dialect) and Gunyulgup Galleries. there were far too many cakes and creamy desserts involved, but the enormous karri trees foresting the southwest really demanded a special diet to be appreciated properly. i shouldn't be so glib: this part of southwestern australia is wildly beautiful. the coast is the most spectacular i've experienced. unfortunately, my camera batteries were dead, so i have no pictures of our drive back to perth along the coast. i'm hoping lindy will share hers.

and now that i've spent the entire post babbling about australian pop culture and touching only lightly on the country itself, i feel really super-tired. i want to write more. i want to be witty and fresh. i want to dazzle & delight. i want to entertain with my finely-tuned observations about australian life, culture and the environment. all quite beyond me at the moment, they are.

all of which really means that i'm about to leave "western" culture behind very early tomorrow morning (airport by 5:15am) and i'm craving distraction. i have a 16-hour day of travelling in 2 legs (perth to singapore, singapore to delhi) with a 5-hour layover in singapore. i have to overnight in delhi before leaving for kathmandu midday on friday, which requires some sort of accommodation that i haven't organized and am not even sure i want to. i may curl up in a corner of the airport wrapped around my bags like a needy lover.

mostly, i'm looking forward to being in one place for awhile. being able to call kathmandu "home" for the next 3 months is bizarre and comforting. i'm excited to meet the staff and the children, but naturally terrified of what the whole experience is going to be about.

(there was to be something about "clean coal" initiatives in australia and a really magnificent riff on the similarities between underground storage of carbon dioxide and human anxiety and depression, but, you know, stuff happens and it's time for dinner)

and now i'm done faffing about.

may you all be well, peaceful and happy.

perth, western australia - august 24, 2006

2006-08-23T21:17:00.000-06:00

i've just moisturized with lindy's cocoa butter formula moisturizer. i smell like a freshly-baked cookie. i am now markedly more interesting to zoe the dog, who demonstrates a precocious, if not entirely self-possessed, curiosity at the best of times. she's a doll--one of those charmingly larger dogs whose frequently inappropriate sniffing hints at the sort of ungainly and, sometimes, insufferable, saliva-streaked bumptiousness that seems directly proportional to canine size, viz. the great dane and the st. bernard. zoe, bless her, is simply charming.

henry is a birman. henry lurks. henry licks. henry enjoys a challenging relationship with his insistent mane of chest hair. henry is a cat. henry is lurking somewhere. i miss henry. henry will come back. see henry lurk. see henry come back.

i am enjoying an entirely peaceful, domestic day in lindy's* lovely villa in the scarborough district of perth. i've washed laundry and hung it to dry outside in the breeze that, fortunately, does not blow directly off the stormwater pond beyond the fence (see pungent). if not for the music i've chosen from lindy's collection (like a version, at the moment), it would be almost perfectly quiet.

i've also washed the dishes. last night before bed, i carefully did not commit not to wash the dishes today. see lindy be delightfully frustrated. see lindy understand that, sometimes, dishwashing allows allan to maintain an essential, even keel. see allan be happy that his head doesn't explode. see allan be happy that neither henry nor zoe will have an opportunity to slurp up the scraps of his sparkly brain from the deep lustre of the jarrah floor. see lindy be pleased. see allan dance for joy. see the lovely clean dishes.

i can't bring myself to bore anyone, including me, with the (inner) drama of the journey from sydney to perth yesterday. see allan dislike unfamiliar options on fatigued arrival in an unfamiliar airport. see allan move from point A to point A.1, A.2, A.3, A.3.1, A.3.2, A.4, and finally to point B.** see allan do laundry. see allan wash dishes. see allan come back.

the abridged version: lugged the luggage by taxi to lindy's workplace, where she programs websites for the department of education. (see allan be reminded of just how hot lindy is.) chucked it all in lindy's car boot. followed lindy's instructions to the cafe and shop district on oxford street (yes, there's one here, too). enjoyed a lunch of chicken caesar salad, while navigating my way through a fascinating emotional response to the sunny-side-up egg perched on top of it all. the egg-bellishment seems to be a trend in australia: on tuesday, my chicken caesar salad in sydney at the hyde park cafe was similarly appointed. (damned if i can find a photo....). anyway. after only a mid-flight muffin from the virgin blue menu, even a disturbing food accessory was welcome sustenance, as were the two flat whites (helpful graphic here).

the bookstore to which lindy had pointed me was almost a disaster, since every title that caught my eye pulled at me like a riptide, especially inhaling the mahatma, by australian writer, christopher kremmer. i may need to read it, so i am (hold on to yourselves) considering the purchase.

currently, i'm reading marisha pessl's rather extraordinary first novel, special topics in calamity physics, which i'd stumbled on in noosa. i almost bought it there when i misread the back jacket excerpt as "I wrote this account one hundred years after I'd found Hannah dead." i expected time travel and quantum weirdness and a new species of physics of a calamitous nature. the sentence, from the introduction, actually reads "I wrote this account one year after I'd found Hannah dead." now that i'm on page 82, i can frankly say that my expectation has not been entirely defeated.

if i'd had any expectations of perth, they wouldn't be defeated either. apart from the crisp audacity of the city itself, i'm loving that lindy has taken voice lessons, owns a drum set, has bravely participated in her first jam, and has explored the world of visual art, all the while subsisting in the stultifying world of state government, but with a vision of a future in the living world, with landscapes and creatures. she is the only other living being i have ever met whose mind works on essentially the same scale and according to essentially the same rhythms and in precisely the same key as mine.*** lindy is a natural superfreak. naturally, i'm a huge fan. in fact, with the added bonus of her ferociously gorgeous intelligence, she reminds me that there are downsides to being on the essentially gay end of the queer spectrum.

point of interest: lindy reminded me last night that we really got to know one another, intially anyway, in the 10 hours or so between tokyo and LA on our flight from kuala lumpur in february 1996 when i was returning from my first trip to australia--leaving james behind--and she was wending her erratic way to costa rica to be with her then beau. i'd forgotten that i invited her to sit beside me when seats opened up in order to "rescue" her from the obnoxious yank who was not only fomenting dissent among the flight attendants in a bizarre, mile-high divide-and-conquer approach to Getting His Way, but was exhorting lindy to send australian stamps and other memorabilia to a list of friends and relatives for whom he had a list of addresses. the sequelae of all that is entirely lindy's story and i learned it only last night (as far as i'm presently aware). it's an inspiring doozy of missed flights, airline frustration and wild, last-minute ad-liberation involving modified flight tickets, etc. but i'll let her tell it if she chooses.

why that brings me back to james and lily tomlin and i *heart* huckabees and love and hope and joy and dancing and death and poetry and strategies for success and choosing to change and finding oneself and letting oneself be found...is a special topic in calamity physics.

*i have yet to hear the story of lindy's evolution from "linda", though i have pointed out the oddly discomforting resonance with lindy chamberlain, who has, of course, long-since been absolved of any wrongdoing

**could this be the secret role of the fourier series in my experience?

***not to be confused with, though it bears relation to, being "got"--i.e. understood in that weird, wordless way

topsy turvy: the top end, etc.

2006-08-21T20:54:00.000-06:00

it's the early afternoon of tuesday, august 22, the day before i leave sydney for perth. i retrieved my passport from the indian high commission yesterday, with a lovely 6-month, multiple-entry tourist visa stuck immaculately on page 17. the stamp i received upon entering australia on august 2 is stamped neatly, but off-centre, on page 4. i have accepted that if i were an immigration officer at a point of entry, i, too, would choose passport pages at random, just to make the day interesting. or i might decide that, today, all visas would be stamped in the first available space; tomorrow, it might be all pages bearing prime numbers; friday might be a fourier series (if i really understood what one was and could make it fit a passport).

my visit to Darwin, at the "top end" of australia (august 13-18) was full-on and fascinating. it's the middle of the dry season, locally called "The Dry". the monsoon season, or "The Wet" begins to bubble in november and really takes off in december. the monsoon forest is an exercise in imagination: it's terribly monotonous, especially driving on the equally monotonous highways in a tour bus, but is full of the wildest forms of life and relationships. among many other remarkable creatures, about 100 species of termite make their home here, so i got to see the magnetic termite mounds in Litchfield National Park. they were first thought to be magnetic because they are large, knife-like structures that are oriented almost exactly north to south. it was later discovered that the are oriented to catch the morning and evening sun to perfectly control the climate of the mound in the neighbourhood of 31C.

i took a scenic flight tour over Kakadu National Park, which also took us over the vast and largely uninhabited wilderness of Arnhem Land in the northeastern corner of the country, which is off-limits, except by not-so-easy-to-get permits, to all but the 5,000 aboriginal people who live in this area of some 97 000 square kilometres. (there are only about 200 000 people in the whole of the Northern Territory, most of whom live in or around Darwin). we were taken to some truly spectacular aboriginal rock art sites, including Ubirr and the misnamed Nourlangie, which the aboriginal people are asking everyone to call by its proper name, Burrunggui. some of this artwork has now been dated to more than 20 000 years ago (could be older; my memory isn't working very well today). on our 3-day tour of Kakadu and Katherine Gorge (in Nitmiluk National Park), we were blessed by a driver/guide, Lew Dungey, who has been working in the outback since he left Adelaide at 14 and has developed striking relationships with many aboriginal people, giving him both a deep knowledge of, and respect for, their culture and belief systems. he was the highlight of the tour, really (though his support for uranium mining in Kakadu left me a bit cold).

of course, the other highlight of my touring around in 33-34C weather in the dry, tropical heat, where the saltwater crocodiles almost outnumber the population (truly: approximately 80 000 are known to be hanging about), was the handful of lovelystrange people i met on the tour. there were the odd-couple cousins, Carmel and Barb--think australian laurel & hardy--who adopted me as their own; Marianne & her 16-year-old, half-moroccan son, Joel, from germany, who spoke remarkable english (marianne introduced a new phrase to my vocabulary: "wortschatz", meaning "word treasure" or.... "vocabulary". Glory!); Lizzie & Colin, the couple from Hervey Bay who were closest to my age, along with marianne; josef & ute from germany, who own and run develoop.com, a management consulting firm that practices some kinda cool stuff, especially around "change management"; and Steve and Kim from Perth, the youngest couple on the tour. being a (younger) solo traveller on a bus filled largely with australian retirees and foreigners was a bizarre, but edifying experience. i had a blast.

there's more to tell, but i'm meeting james in 5 minutes for a walk up Oxford Street (my first time, this trip), then lunch with mary and then who knows. i've been rushing through this post, just to get something on the record, so forgive any lapses of grammar or spelling.

more from perth.....

these are not the contents of my head

2006-08-10T01:00:00.000-06:00

ok, the trauma of re-reading and then typing out the contents of my head from the other day got the better of me and the cost of actually getting it all into the easyjournal was prohibitive here on the most expensive street in australia (hastings street) and i'm feeling much more alive yesterday and today, but just for fun, this is how it started....

"i had difficulty getting out of bed. lots of it. what do i want to do? do i want to do anything? no, not really. why not just relax? because that would be a waste of resources--what it took to get you here--and a slap in the face of those you're on your way to learn from. right. i'm a failure. i can neither do nothing and be happy nor do something and be happy. there is no joy in the day. get up and have some coffee. make it first. that will give you a start. thank you. what would life be like without sleeping aids and caffeine? or lots of food. heaps of it. 2 slices of the best bread ever, toasted, with butter, a banana (12.99/kg after the hurricane wiped out the crops in queensland) AND a bowl of muesli with soy milk. then a slightly squishy bowel movement. right. wasn't i just saying to james that i thought my gut issues were likely related to overconsumption, rather than any one food? but i'm feeling unsure of myself and what i should do today, since alexandria must wait until tomorrow. eat, then. eat. throw yourself together, too. splash water on your head, face and under your arms. arm yourself for a simple, solitary walk up viewland drive, into noosa national park, to laguna lookout. look. there's a fire burning in the forest north of noosaville on the other side of the noosa river. walk to hastings street down the freshly laid cement walkway that protects revegetation areas from further touristic trauma. these homes closer to hastings street are magnificently ludicrous, perched imperiously on bandy metal stilts like war-of-the-world cottages. worth millions, they are. is that success? right now, i wish it were so. i'd have something to aim for. why am i not goal-oriented? isn't that supposed to be a good thing? shhh. you're approaching the street and other life forms, most of them 55+ wearing blindingly light-coloured clothing and sunglasses so big they almost seem to need bandy metal stilts to keep them from sliding from the soft, craggy hillsides of the slightly stunned-looking faces on which they, too, are ludicrously perched. do you pity them? yes. do you envy them? yes. where the hell are you going? to the tourist information booth at the intersection of hastings and noosa drive, just to get a map of the town, but the information lady must be tired or sick of softly craggy couples in blinding-light clothes and hubcap-sized sunnies because she chooses not to smile when she tears one from the sheet in the big front window. maybe it's you? yes, maybe it is. maybe i'm too hard and edgy. maybe i look too foreign. maybe i'm just too tired and stunned in my own way....."

etc.

you get the idea....there was also something about darkly cute and curly 18-year-old grocery store clerks, but i may come back to that at some point. i usually do.

i'm leaving noosa in a few hours. i've got a 90-minute bus ride to the brisbane airport and a flight of maybe 2 or 3 hours--i have no idea, really--to darwin. i'm trying to decide whether i'll just wander the streets of that city tomorrow or splurge on a crocodile feeding cruise. maybe a tourist or two is bait. once again, i have no idea, really.

other than a bit too much sun yesterday, i was lured by a small beach at the base of a fairly steep cliff, ringed by heaps of black pearl-like rocks. i'd noticed it, and the handful of people body-surfing, on wednesday on my way back from alexandria bay. i think it may be winch cove and part of granite bay. the best photo i can find in a short period of time (this cafe is rather expensive) is the small, bottom right photo here, which doesn't really demonstrate how steep the access is, but at least gives an impression of the black pearls (the kind of washed out gray areas....)

anyway, i'd scoped out my descent on the way to alex earlier in the day, but almost couldn't find the courage to do it. i had to complicate it by asking a (darkly cute) surfer if "that" (pointing to where he'd just emerged and knowing the answer very well already) was the best way to get down. of course it was, and i got down the "goat track" (his phrase) to this fantastic little beach. just amazing. less amazing were the 2 young women taking T&A shots of each other on the sand. ok, maybe it was amazing, but not in any conventional way. at least they were in the water by the time i was ready, so i didn't feel so alone.

i got only one good drubbing when a wave caught me off guard and sent me tumbling along the sandy bottom. it was time to exfoliate anyway.

i was at alexandria bay (someone else's photo) again much of yesterday yesterday. it was a wilder, windier day there.

the savage azure cat
licking clean
heaving up against the hard to reach spots
loving me too
with foamfleck kisses
and wind-dressed caresses
i drown
in its deep
secret bath
the relentless
rolling whispers
of its countless tongues

(that relentless....whisper...tongue motif just wouldn't let me out of its grip, as you can tell)

and then i leave you with words from mimi:

"Lately we [mimi and daughter, nora] have to play this game where she dresses up in weird outfits (a favorite is the lab coat/swim goggles/Mardi Gras beads combination) and pretends to put three small stuffed monkeys in monkey jail (the newspaper recycling basket), and then they escape, and then we chase them down and give them injections with the toy syringe from her doctor kit. It is like some sort of Andromeda Strain reenactment for preschoolers, but performed by drag queens or the Flaming Lips."

truly, there's no place like home

saturday, august 12, noosa heads, queensland

noosa heads, queensland - august 10, 2006

2006-08-10T00:32:00.000-06:00

wow. i've had to marshal some serious resources to post today. for those not faint of heart, strap on your helmets and pull on the gumboots--maybe even hip-waders--and visit the contents of my head back in the old place in a few days once i've had a chance to wip up the entry. it's thick and sticky and not necessarily in the good way. (i've spent too much time in the cafe today....)

although it's winter, the sun has been shining without break since i arrived on tuesday morning. but darkness is complete by 6pm. my body and head are struggling with these conflicting pieces of environmental information.

i've taken a one-bedroom apartment here. it's huge. i could do cartwheels naked if i wanted to (note to self....). but it becomes something of an excuse not to be outdoors, with people, something or other....i'm not quite sure. it makes daily decision-making a fascinating experience. hence the thick stickiness that is my head on a momentary basis.

it wasn't much of an effort on wednesday, after an early and effortful breakfast, to make my way to the beach at alexandria bay. but it's familiar and loaded with power. it's actually not much of an adventure. does that make any sense? nothing fades after 7, 8, 9 or 10 years. it's like i've never left. i was even able to find the dent in the dunes that kent and i occupied in 1996. i think i could still feel our ghosts.

it was trying to give myself permission to relax today that catapulted me into the lovely quagmire of self-absorption that i've been wading through all day (my hip-waders are well-worn and purple, thank you very much). landing on an internet cafe....no wait: GETTING to one...was the biggest challenge of the day. it only took me until about 4pm. i kept feeling the pull of "home".

roaming families of bush turkeys. the smell of eucalyptus hanging everywhere like a lonely friend. i find it impossible to describe the endlessness of the south pacific here. even when it breaks and bubbles like an azure bath against black rocks or gold beach, the sea here has a secret, one that stretches outward and downward as far as i am allowed to discern. i haven't yet unravelled the language in its rolling whisper, the heaving of its countless, relentless tongues.

so how do i account for the time invested in the australian discovery channel? no, really. i've turned to television as medicine. i'm rather concerned. although i feel ok when it's "fairly odd parents" and "spongebob squarepants" on the nickleodeon channel, "a haunting" on the discovery channel leaves me feeling in need of an exorcism.

speaking of nickleodeon....

the scene: an australian lad named matt, from canberra, ACT, wiggling the end of his tongue in his left nostril. "hi! my name is matt and i don't need to use any fingers."

glory.

BEST BREAD EVER: fruit loaf by the Essential Grain Bakery (2/17 Project Ave, Noosaville, Qld 4567, ph/fx 07-5455-6266. ingredients: organic stoneground wholemeal flour, organic stoneground ryemeal, unbleached white flour, ryemeal leaven, sea salt, yeast, gluten, sultanas, currants, apricots, dates, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, poppy seeds.

BEST YOGHURT EVER: Gourmet Passionfruit Yoghurt by the Queensland Yoghurt Company (4/7 Endeavour Drive, Kunda Park, Qld 4556). indescribably good, but let me try (since i'm just that way): lemme see.....like passionfruit spun by dairy silkworms (wow, that was bad....it must be the sun....or the 6pm darkness). i'm not the first to rave.

i'm still grappling with photo issues. i've taken loads, but i have memory chip issues that require resolution (ha) before i try uploading anything.

do stay tuned.

do not....ever....stay tuned to CNN, especially its "open forum":

"some e-mails have been edited for the sake of clarity and time constraints"

over

and

over

sydney: august 7, 2006

2006-08-07T00:25:00.000-06:00

for some reason, i'm resisting the urge to post something as remarkably pedestrian as this post. it must be because it's what everyone seems to do. i have a natural resistance to crowds of any kind. i don't mind being on the fringe looking in, but panic sets in when i feel too much a part of it. i can't decide whether this attitude will be helpful or beneficial in the coming months. i'm moving to countries where population density renders the notion of "bystander" virtually meaningless.

it seems like i've been in sydney forever, though not in an unpleasant way. despite the more or less benign trauma of the indian consulate, life is pretty effortless here for me. james and mary have been spectacularly good hosts, as they always have been. james in particular has put aside his initial anxiety about seeing me for the first time in 9 years, as have i, and we've grown quite comfortable with each other. he's actually going to cook for me tonight. this will be a first.

we had a rather big saturday night. the dinner at Slide was very tasty. our table for 8 was set up on one end of the raised, saturday night fever dance floor (!). i was able to sit with my back to the rest of the venue; neither kal, james' friend, nor i could cope with facing the small crowd. we had a drink upstairs once the place began to morph into a dance club, but the attitude was what i'd call pushy-poseur-bland and none of us found it very comfortable. i did, however, have the opportunity to share perspectives on india with two of my dinner companions, one of whom is a partner with louise hay in hay house australia. among many others, hay house publishes deepak chopra. leon's perspective was comforting, though superficially at odds with what i would have said was my expectation of india. i wasn't even aware that i had an expectation until he pointed out, very gently, that india has become the subject of a fairly elaborate fantasy about spirituality and mysticism. his wisdom grounded me in the immanent (and imminent) reality that india is a a country very much at war with itself, with most of its population mired in poverty and prejudice, both of which are largely perpetuated, or at least supported, by the national religion of hinduism. i found myself surprisingly at peace with leon's view, i think because at some level i've been aware that whatever spirituality is involved in this journey, it is entirely my own and has nothing whatsoever to do with someone else's fantasy. the challenge of all this is to face my self-imposed limitations and step beyond them. nobody is going to give me answers.

although i've never read any of chopra's works, i confess to being a bit starstruck meeting someone who's socialized many times with the guru. however, leon's candidness established for me that chopra is rather an ordinary human being. he may find himself in extraordinary circumstances, but sometimes things just turn out that way. we move as we will.

the other compelling perspective was offered by a woman who was managing the oxford hotel when james worked upstairs at gilligans. he was working there in 1996 when i met him. sandra is a self-proclaimed--or maybe self-created would be kinder and more accurate--outsider. she's a 59-year-old superfreak who prefers to observe, and absolutely loves the chaos and stickiness of india. in addition to her direct and cutting views on indian culture, she had some very practical suggestions for navigating my way through its soupy thickness as a privileged, white, male westerner.

it's strange how these revelations unfold in the manner, by the routes, and at the times they do. everything arrives wrapped in an eerily translucent perfection.

kal and i hit it off rather too well. he's a complete sweetheart. we adopted each other as club buddies for the night....and a good chunk of sunday morning....and hopped from the midnight shift (locally and affectionately, "the shift")--which is where i met james 10 years ago--to ARQ (new to me), and DCM (my first sydney bar back in '96 with its mindblowing drag show) and back to the shift and then back to ARQ, where we'd left our coats. i was able to dance (in which venue i'm not quite sure) to a completely new remix of "cry india" by umboza, which was THE song to be dancing to in 1996 in sydney and was the first piece of music i bought here that long ago. i still have the CD, which james had helped me to find with very little to go on but my poor rendition of the basic tune and how it made me feel. go team synchronicity. so weird. so wonderful.

everyone else had gone home long before james, kal and i piled into a cab at about 6:30am sunday. sydney does have a way of pulling the party boy out of me and throwing me up against the wall and spattering me on the dancefloor. it was lovely, ribald, exhausting, and completely peaceful.

i slept until 4:30pm, bludged about for the rest of the day watching television, including the initial search edition of the latest "australian idol"--sweet lord.

oh, yes, my favourite australian tv commercial is for bigpond broadband internet access and involves a young schoolboy being driven by his (shockingly old) father [read with your best version of a thick aussie accent...]:

son: dad, why did they build the great wall of china?

dad: (searching the databanks....) well....that was....uh....during the time of nasi goreng. (searching databanks....) to keep all the rabbits out. (searching databanks....) there were too many rabbits. (searching databanks.....) in china.

[cut to son in front of his class]

teacher's voice: now, we're going to hear all about china from...[whatever his name is]

*snort*

*giggle*

i can't stand it. it's so beautiful and wrong. it gets funnier every time i see it.

maybe that's why i'm sleeping better. or maybe it's just because my worries, such as they are, have been reduced to a manageable level. they aren't really worries anymore.

which brings me, finally, to where i intended to start this pedestrian post: my australian sub-itinerary is finally final.

after my last encounter with the indian consulate, i was afraid i'd agonize about the visa thing. but a good night out on sydney-town does wonders for the spirit, and by this morning, i knew that i'd apply for the tourist visa and worry about more time in india when that visa expires in mid-february. i may take that time to spend in sri lanka or wherever and come back...or come back to canada. who knows? the consulate was full of waiting applicants; i watched many of them turn red with disbelief and frustration as whatever information (or lack of it) there were faced with acidified their initially hopeful moods. i tried not to despair and formulated a strategy of absolute good humour.

whether it played any role in my case is unanswerable, though i don't think anyone else who approached the wicket received a smile as i did. everything was fine, everything was acceptable. though it will be issued august 14, i can retrieve my passport and the visa on august 21, the first working day after i've returned to sydney from my northern junket.

so, officially, this is where i'll be for the next 10 days:

aug 8-12: noosa, queensland

aug 12-14: darwin, northern territory

aug 14-17: my "top end" tour

aug 17-18: darwin

aug 18-23: sydney

aug 23-31: perth, western australia (perhaps traveling with linda south to margaret river)

while i have the chance in noosa, with nothing but beaches and a hotel room to play with, i plan to do very little but read about nepal and try to learn some nepali phrases. i've done very little reading since i left calgary. i feel poorly prepared to step into nepali culture in the not-quite-a-few-weeks i have left. (since james' bathroom is absolutely frigid, i do feel somewhat prepared for the cold bucket showers, but that's about it so far.)

i could go on, couldn't i? i'm just that way.

but i've a train to catch, back to summer hill and stir-fry a la james barker, and packing and all that.

thank you for staying with me all through this and all through that.

it helps.

emb-puzz-lies

2006-08-03T18:49:00.000-06:00

though blogspot indicates august 3 as the date of this post, it's actually friday, august 4. apparently, the international date line is to be ignored in this blog.

yesterday, the sky was speckless and by the time i'd wandered down to bennelong point to absorb the neverending glory of the sydney opera house, the sun was slightly past its zenith and throwing the ivory sails into brilliant relief. i'm unable to tire of of the SOH, it is THAT iconic. ask me 10 years ago if i'd have thought twice about it and i might have said, "oh yeah. i do remember carol burnett performing in it shortly after it was opened in the mid-70s and watching her on television. but, like, whatever." seeing it changes one's attitude not only to architecture, but to design and culture. magnificent.

james did warn me that it was the day to wander because the next two were forecast for rain. he was quite right. this morning, it's raining off and on quite heavily, and could be thoroughly depressing. if i were in calgary, no doubt that's exactly how i'd feel. but today i had a mission: my second trip to the consulate general of india, this time to lodge my transit visa application to allow me to fly through delhi on my way from perth to kathmandu on august 31.

yesterday afternoon, after my first visit, i was non-plussed. the efficiently pleasant receptionist had nothing to offer beyond confirmation of what i knew already: apply for the visa in sydney rather than perth and organize my time in australia accordingly. what this meant was adjusting my plan to be in perth mid-month. but if this visit was initially frustrating, it motivated me to duck into a flight centre on elizabeth street, where i spent about an hour and a half with a fantastically charming and helpful consultant, carley, who'd only just returned from a 7-month gig in the hospitality industry, with a liberal dash of snowboarding, in fernie, BC. because i arrived on her doorstep flustered and without a clue as to what i wanted to do, i was apprehensive, but she embraced my vagueness like a favourite teddy bear and, with the help of her workmate, Clare, set about sorting me out.

what's happened is that i'm flying to noosa, queensland, on august 8, where i expect i'll be enjoying my first hostel accommodation of the trip. it will give me some much needed chill-out time on any of several beaches, including my favourite, at alexandria bay in noosa heads national park. i take the bus to brisbane on august 11 and hang out for a day and a half in a city i've only ever breezed through (not including the horrible jaunt with chad and tony back in 1996...but that was another lifetime). late on august 12, i'm flying to darwin, in the northern territory, for a 4-day "natural wonders" tour of the top end, which encompasses litchfield national park (1 day), katherine gorge (1 day) and kakadu national park (2 days). it's kakadu that's been ka-ka-kalling me for years. i'll finally get to experience it. i'm treating myself, too, and have selected the "motel accommodation" option rather than the cheaper camping. on the front end--august 12--i've grabbed 4 1/2 stars of the holiday inn esplanade. *giggle* i'll fly back to sydney late on august 17 so that, bright and early on friday the 18th, i can visit my very good friends at the indian consulate again.

you see, my second trip this morning, which was intended to address the complicated issue of allowing me the simple pleasure of transiting through delhi on my way to nepal, resulted in a firm and unequivocal "no" from the efficiently unpleasant visa officer behind the bullet proof glass of the consular & visa services wicket. to be fair, i understand why he insisted that i should apply for a multiple-entry tourist visa instead of a transit visa, but was frustrated by his unwillingness to listen to what i need according to my, admittedly eccentric, circumstances. i thought to press for more, but settled with asking how long it would take to issue a transit visa by his office and was told it would only take one week. this information explained why he wouldn't accept my application: the transit visa is valid only for 15 days from issue, so it would be issued too soon and would be useless to me come august 31.

on august 18, i'll try again. if it takes only one week, i'll have the visa by august 25 and can leave for perth either that day or august 26. since i'll have already exhausted my australian vacation budget in the top end, i'm not concerned about the shortening of my western australian visit with linda. (my original plan had me arriving in perth about august 14 for a few days and then heading north to broome and on to darwin before coming back to perth in time to leave for nepal.)

i've hinted to james that i won't be staying with him when i return to sydney on august 18 and he seems either worried or offended. maybe it's both. it's very difficult sometimes to tell with him, despite his otherwise disarming directness. he's still strikingly beautiful after the 9 years since i last saw him. and apart from a few last details, we've also cleaned up our respective messes from the end of our initial relationship in 1997. refreshing. quite an honour, actually.

we're going to hornsby, or "the bush" as james derides it, to celebrate "christmas in july [even though it's now august]," an annual event hosted by mary's sister, mandy. it's a wine-tasting: 17 varieties and no spitting, so a good slosh is in the offing. mary is cooking a multiple-course greek meal. james isn't all that keen to go, but i'm quite excited about it, if only for the food. it's the first (and likely only) time that james will do it, so mary is fairly well pleased that we're coming. we may have to lodge in the hornsby inn tonight, but maybe not. james is not so secretly appalled at staying above a pub. he's a delightful snob.

saturday night, it's dinner for 8 at slide on oxford street. i've promised james that he can take me shopping for an outfit, though i'm not sure i'll actually buy one. i certainly draw the line at shoes. i've grown comfortably fond of my merrell chameleons.

if the rain hadn't been so inconvenient and insistent this morning on my way to the consulate, i would have attempted a photo of the hot-pink child's umbrella crumpled in the gutter at the corner of george and market streets. it was crushingly beautiful against the sleek, black asphalt of the roadway. i'll settle for uploading some photos of the opera house the next time i'm at a computer.

since i'm pictureless at the moment, i'll send you to the sumptuous queen victoria building (QVB), with assorted photos, at the confluence of george, druitt and park streets. it was actually designed and built as a sort of victorian shopping mall in the late 19th century and remains gorgeously so today.

i'm off.

in search of wizards.

and a gnosh.

celebration of light: vancouver, july 29, 2006

2006-07-30T13:40:00.000-06:00

it was gray today.

i didn't expect dallas to awake with me at 9am, since he'd got in around 4am. but he did and after some sleepy bumbling about, we walked to delaney's (another coffee house) on denman street, procured hot beverages and muffins, and took them to english bay. we spent the next hour or so continuing the conversation we've been having, on and off, for the last several years, most recently the night before, the conversation about consciousness. it's one of those conversations i'm not entirely convinced occurs entirely out loud; we seem deeply immersed in each other's inner vocabulary. we've added discussion about applied kinesiology, alternative healing, despair, our respective vissions of our futures, our purposes, language and self consciousness (as distinct from simple conscisousness). i guess all of those aren't quite new threads of discourse, but we continue to discover new weaves, new patterns in which to lay them out for better appreciation.

the discussion continued over a late breakfast at theresa's, a plain but popular denman street eatery, with comforting western food cooked and served by charming asian staff. (i'm stupified by the proliferation of sushi joints in the west end, btw.)

a month or so ago, dallas got me excited about the "raven travelling" exhibit visiting the vancouver art gallery, particularly since the chilkat blanket that had reached out to dallas from the pages of one of his textbooks was included in the exhibit. dallas's fascination with the technique, mysterious even to seasoned weavers, was completely infectious. equally fascinating was the mystery of some of the symbols and motifs worked into the blanket, which are beyond the understanding not only of art historians, but of the haida people themselves. mike would love the exhibit, which includes several representations of the clamshell creation myth.

afterward, in the gallery shop, dallas was pleased to be able to point to some of the merchandise produce by his employer, native northwest. however, we were both horrified by a t-shirt, not produced by native northwest and made in mexico, bearing a white aboriginal design on a green camouflage background.

we had arranged to view the fireworks on the second night of the "celebration of light", from the 21st floor apartment of dallas's friend, richard, who is visiting his home in london, england. his suite commands what is likely one of the finest views of english bay, and is immediately opposite the barge from which the pyrotechnics are launched. we were joined by an old friend from edmonton, murray billett, and his friend, tony. among other things, murray is now an edmonton city police commissioner. he is an exuberant, passionate, human rights activist and a beautiful human being. dallas and i have been honoured to know him since the early 1990s. murray served with me on the board of the AIDS network of edmonton (now HIV edmonton). the three of us were members of the gay men's outreach committee (GMOC), a harm reduction group that distributed condoms and safer sex information. we had fabulous t-shirts.

china delivered what i think may be the most astonishing fireworks display i've ever experienced, though perhaps that had something to do with the wine, the view and the company. i wonder about the almost universal, childlike joy in fireworks. do they trigger memories of the big bang, or whatever original experience launched us into the present moment? i drank too much wine and marvelled both at the light display and the congregation of 250 000+ crowd assembled on the sands of english bay to gawp like children. light and magic were everywhere (as are the cliches in this post).

the day embraced everything and everyone i love about this city.

i'm waiting for help from james, in sydney, with formatting this blog with photos. in the meantime, a little collection from today can be found here.

vancouver, british columbia, canada - july 28, 2006

2006-07-28T17:54:00.000-06:00

because i like to be clever, the first, handwritten entry in my little black book (with the fabulously garish, thigh-high red boot on the cover....thank you danae) is entitled "day 1 july 27, 2006". i suppose it's entirely appropriate that, in the full spirit of this journey, i have had to get out of my own way to write this entry on day 2.

nevertheless, i was concerned that starting things off with "day 1" would be too commonplace. but then i considered that the first topic about which it occurred to me to write--and in no less auspicious a place as a calgary airport toilet--was the natural history of disgust. what looked like a smattering of scabrous blobs of dried mucous littering the wall around the toilet paper dispenser generated considerable curiousity about the origin of the reaction we call disgust. more than the (almost) overwhelming stress of trip preparation (who knew that condensing a western life for a year's travel would be so complicated), my disgust in that lavatory moment stands out as the most potent sign of...well, of something. i'll know what it's pointing to when i feel the point. i'm good at feeling pointy things.

so in my roundabout way, i'm less pointedly remarking on the anticlimax of my departure from calgary and my arrival in vancouver yesterday. i thought i would feel more, or at least feel differently, but the slippage between my anticipated and actual experience has been my only consistent experience so far. perhaps my exhaustion eclipsed the emotional content of the process of leaving. and in coming first to the very familiar vancouver, i don't yet have a sense of the enormity of this undertaking that, as hard as i have tried to do, i have been unable to characterize as foolish, or even foolhardy.

dallas didn't answer the phone when i called from the airport and later confirmed my suspicion that he'd got my arrival date mixed up. he thought it was sometime today. but back at the airport, finishing my voice message to him, i thought i was already being tested: allan, you've just arrived in a large city and require lodging. what steps do you take? i think i had the situation sorted out in my head when dallas called back. we ate shawarma platters on the grass ringing english bay. i rarely tire of his stories and his chatter. he's so gifted, so complex. i wish i were always able to give him my full attention. since he has been assimilating buddhist and hindu perspectives far longer than i have, i've felt odd about being able to visit india before him. we may go to a BBQ tonight with his classmates from the advanced textile arts program at capilano college. he's also asked me to go to wreck beach, sometime this weekend, though my body image may require some fortification to enable that kind of outing. (for those of you who don't know, dallas has been my friend since 1989 in edmonton. he was my first sister and my only gurilla.)

with dallas at work, i had today to myself, but the west end of vancouver, one of the gayest places i've been too (oxford street in sydney is right up there and i'll be there very soon...stay tuned) has always been a challenge for me. i think it stems from early rejection experiences when i was coming out in edmonton. whatever. i meandered east up nelson street, which is quiet and lush, before dodging over to davie street/village to forage for coffee and a muffin in one of my favourite coffeehouses, melriches. because the day was cool and gray, i was able to find just the right bench at the bay to watch gulls, pigeons, people and herons. oh, and to sit with my colossal self-consciousness. it's so vivid. it will be a lively companion on this journey, i'm sure. :o)

i was able to grab my friend, rod, for lunch. he's leaving on a similar journey on september 16, which will take him first to japan, then indonesia and, if he can work it, cambodia (via malaysia) and thailand. he arrives in kathmandu on november 30. i'm going to meet him at the airport and hang out for a couple of days before he heads off to everest base camp. he arrives in india 11 days after i do. we aim to cross paths for ready-made chai somewhere.

i've been trying to do nothing all day and have not succeeded. hence, this lengthy post about very little. i'm waiting for dallas to return home. maybe i'll do the dishes. maybe not. cool.

guest house

2006-07-23T22:35:00.000-06:00

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture, still,
treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

- Jelaluddin Rumi (1207-1273)
(trans. Coleman Barks)