Word From Curry Country!!!!!

Here I am. I am here.

Here is a sweaty internet cafe in Mysore, Karnataka. It is likely almost 90 degrees in here, which would be nearly unbearable if there weren't a fan blowing on us constantly. The sounds of shouting and work, traffic and honking are a constant reminder of the bustling life two floors below.

We came here to see the Palace of The Maharaj, go to some temples and a sandalwood and incense factory. By we I mean myself and my new friend Raffaela. She is a wine maker from Italy on holiday for a month- I'm quite happy to have met her at the guest house. She is a lovely person with much to talk about and has proven to be a great travel companion for this short time. We took the two hour, Rs.36 train ride from Bangalore two days ago and will likely leave tomorrow afternoon on another crowded, sweaty train. She leaves for Pune further to the north on Wednesday.

It is officially monsoon season here, though it hasn't yet shown us it's torrential capabilities yet, this area will soon be pounded and ponded by water. To the west, on the coastal plain there have been floods and tragic displacement of people, and lives lost. We are further inland by quite a ways (check out a map if you want) so it should only get wet and soggy and likely quite muddy here. As of yet, the weather has been quite nice. Warm and slightly muggy during the day, and mostly cool at night. It's quite a blessing since I hear that the summer time is upwards of 110 degrees and 80+ percent humidity. The mosquitoes aren't too bad yet either... they come after the monsoons.

This place is a serious wake up call for anyone who takes life for granted. Coming from a place where everything is easy; where seemingly everyone has too much and only wants more, where it is safe to drink tap water nearly everywhere, where we can swim in the lakes and rivers, where the air is fresh and the sidewalks are clean, where there isn't raw sewage in every water way- coming here is enough to humble anyone.

I'm not sure how many times each day I am tapped on the arm, or have my pants tugged by a child begging for some change. How many times I have stepped around a person, incapacitated by disease or deformity, or possibly very dead on the sidewalk. I can't really tell you much about how it feels either, to feel cold for turning my head away, or stepping around someone so near to death. This is India. It is very much live and let live. It is also very much live and let die.

All things considered...

The people here are so kind, warm and generous, so spiritually connected through their deep cultural and religious roots. It is so nice to speak with the well educated and hard working people. They are inquisitive and open and really just pleased to hear different perspectives, as am I. I have met teachers and software engineers, police officers and bus drivers and restaurant hosts... all have a story and all have a genuine smile. Here it seems there is no reason to be fake, there is no reason to front or to flaunt. This is really based in the cultural value of family as status, rather than wealth. For so many here also, to flaunt anything would be a wasted endeavor, taking away from the ability to provide for ones family. This is the most real place I have ever been.

In the newspaper this morning I read the classified section. Two pages of this classified section were matrimonial advertisements. Families advertising their sons or daughters to other families often with the words "Caste No Bars". People respond to the ads and set up meetings between possible couples and families, and if it seems to be right... they marry. Who knows you better than your family? It is nice to see that people are beginning to marry beyond the idea of caste.

Coming from the west where we regularly date people often for years at a time, we get into sexually involved relationships without the intent to marry, we marry and then divorce and often have children out of wedlock, in a way the system here seems closed and regimented. It seems as though you have little choice of your own in the matter of marriage. When your family decides it's time, it's time. I'm sure you have a say in the type of person you would like to marry, and it is factored into the advertisement run by your family members, but really.... it seems to take the choice out of it.

On the other side of things... talking to Santosh, an elementary school teacher here in Mysore, he made it clear to me how really beautiful an arranged marriage might be. He said that it takes the worry out of knowing whether you will find the right person for you, it allows you to focus on your education, career and family life. When the time is right, and your family thinks you are financially stable and emotionally prepared to marry, it is arranged for you. "This is a bond", he says. There is typically no option of divorce, and usually no need as people here are typically non-violent and quite respectful of each other. As you learn that your partner is a different person, and you respect that person for all that they are and are not, the bond between you grows. It is life long and tied deeply into both families. There are often over a thousand people at a wedding. It's quite interesting to hear these points of view, as arranged marriage often has a negative connotation in the minds of westerners. I'm sure it is all case sensitive, and I'm sure it isn't always what is best, but I'm also sure that the western system of "dating" and "mating" isn't any better. Just different I guess.

Many of my previous writings have had bits of humor in them... I'm kind of like that. It makes life easier when you can laugh about things. So, like in Japan, where some of my favorite sights were t-shirts with sayings like "Dunk a dough nut into coffee", or "Desert Storm Wind Gust" or "Lick the bottom of your slipper for immunity", here is not too different in terms of wearable laughs. So far I have seen..."Jeesus is our sabiour", "Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die" as well as my personal favorite, "I swear to drink beer, I didn't drink God". The ones here aren't quite as funny or as common as in Japan. What IS even more prevalent here than awesome anime hair and fanny packs in Japan is the bitchin moustache! Everyone has one. I mean E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E. I swear even 8 year old boys and 80 year old have these rad, amazingly bushy growths of hair on their upper lip. I bet they can shave and like 2 minutes later its full again. Haven't seen a woman with one yet, but I'm sure she's out there, I've only been her a week.

Soon, I hope to have some pictures up. I would also like to write about the languages and the rickshaws and the hawkers and the kick ass food. It's so cheap to eat here that it is difficult for a foodie like me to not go home having over eaten. I waddle home frequently.

Well I think I should be heading back to the hotel now. It's hot and I want to take a cold bucket bath and maybe have a nap.

Until next time...

Peace, Love and Fish Tikka with Nan and Dallh on the side!

Chris

Holy Cow!

Hey Friends,

Yesterday was a long one. It started at 5:30 with a wake up and a stretch and a cup of tea. Then it was off to the train station at 6 with the lovely miss Emily and my luggage. Two and a half hours of standing room on the train later, we arrived at Narita Airport... sweet. Fortunately we left plenty of time because I had to repack EVERYTHING twice and mail some stuff.

When I first flew into Japan my bags were over packed and over weight by quite a sum. I was never charged for them when I left Portland... I would have been willing to pay a few bucks then... now I realize I just WAAAAy over packed. Anyhow, right around the middle of may I mailed a box home to the family. It was filled with all my overly prepared mistakes... shoes, pants, shirts, sweatshirts. And it also included some souvies from Japan... you'll see 'em later. This was quite a large box, and surprisingly inexpensive to ship by boat- it weighed like 40-something Kg and only cost me Y 8,400 (about 90 bucks). Not bad all things considered.

So I had thought I had cleaned myself out pretty well, and since Emily isn't arriving in India for another week and change, and she's got more stuff than me, I volunteered the majority of one of my suitcases to her stuff. I thought it would be ok even if we had to pay a few bucks to get them here on the airline. I happen to be a very spatially efficient packer so both of those bags got pretty heavy. As we stood at the ticket counter and had the bags weighed, they came out to be something like 28 kg over weight. I thought.... hmm maybe like 50 or 60 bucks to compensate for the overage... we're cool. But wait...

'That'll be Y 97,400 please'. Waaaaaaait a minute. Say that again.

'Y 97,400.' That's pretty much almost $1000! For two bags.

That's only a couple hundred bucks less than what I paid for my whole plane ticket... From Portland to LA to Tokyo to Singapore to Bangalore!

Ok. Only one thing to do. Get some big bags from the airlines, and start offloading stuff that Em can take with her or ship.

Then to the ticket counter. Try again.

Still 20 kg over. Crap!

Rearrange and pick out the stuff I can just throw away or mail to myself, or that Em can take or ship... Then try again.

Still 16 kg over... what now?

Reevaluate everything. Unload anything that is heavy and put it in my carry on. My back doesn't have a 28 kg weight limit, only a size limit. Unload more stuff to mail. Put 6 shirts on and two sweatshirts and a jacket... cut the weight, yo. I felt like a wrestler trying to make weight.

Finally! Only 2kg over. They are cool with up to 5, but I didn't want to go putting stuff back in after all that... plus I really had to get going to the post office and the terminal, and have some food if I got the chance. Oh yeah, and I really had to go to the bathroom this whole time- I nearly exploded.

50 bucks later we boxed and shipped some of that stuff, Em took some of it home with her... I don't know what her plans are for it quite yet. A trip to Charbucks for a coffee and a sammich... then to the terminal.

So we said our temporary goodbyes... and I was off to Singapore.

The flight was a nice and easy 6ish hours, good movies, food wasn't half bad and the flight attendants were beautiful. Singapore seems really cool and I hope to visit there for real some day. The people seemed super nice, it was ridiculously clean and $1 US is worth about $1.15 Singapore dollars (always a plus). I had some super spicy food and hopped back on a plane for 5 hours Bangalore.

This flight was not so smooth. It was actually very turbulent. My guts were churning for a number of reasons- none of which include air turbulence. Nope... it was definitely the combination of all the food and stress and what have you. I wasn't feeling bad or sick... just gassy. This is never comfortable when in confined spaces with lots of other people for many hours. I had some beer. Only added to the pain. Oh yeah then I spilled a beer all over myself... they make those little tray tables so damn small! Oh well. Everything else was great.

When we landed for some strange reason they checked everyone through customs and then through security again...(in that order) just to leave the airport. Whatever. So I waited for about 45 minutes for the bags... of course they were some of the last to come through. But I got them.

Next mission was to wade through the mobs of yelling people (seem to be common here), kindly notify each and every persitstent cabbie that "No, thank you. I will take the bus.", and to find the right bus to Koramangala. Then from Koramangala I was to have the bus driver arrange a continuing taxi to Soms... the hostel I'm staying at. If only things were that easy.

After an hour in what seemed like a high speed bus chase, through the crowded streets with no traffic lights and seemingly no rules either, we arrived at Koramangala bus stand. Here, G the bus driver (His name starts with a G but is way too long for me to remember) helped me procure a rickshaw to the hostel... "of course" the driver knew where I was wanting to go... I gave him the name and address and he said "no problem". Haha. Ha.

After an hour of driving around on bumpy unpaved roads, through pot holes, being chased by packs of stray dogs and asking everyone we saw.... no hostel. We ran into the police. Two guys on a motorcycle... surely they would know, thems tha Pooolice. Nope.

Finally, after another half hour of driving in circles and through the small alleys and side streets we roll up along a dark house. I thought to myself, 'Great, after all this time- and there is nobody here to show me to my room. Now what?'. The cops and the rickshaw guy stayed with me, and one of the police had gone to get a phone... we called, rousted Soms out of bed... and apologized profusely. He welcomed me warmly and apologized for the inconvenience.

I would have been screwed if it weren't for the patience and generosity of the rickshaw guy and those cops. I overly thanked them, and then tipped them all. Wow.

Now I'm here and it is the polar opposite of Japan. Beautifully loud and dirty, super real and very poor. I'll be writing more as soon as I can... the internet seems pretty shoddy here. Pictures will likely have to wait for quite some time. I will try to keep y'all updated.

Until next time, wow. What a great experience!

Peace and Love,

Chris

Next Stop... India.

Hi everybody!
I'll try to keep this blog a bit shorter than the last one. I end up reading them so many times... yep, I get tired of hearing myself think. I can only imagine what it looks like to someone that has better things to do.

I had a great couple of days here, the last ones in Japan... maybe ever. Today I woke up and rewrote a resume, and then went to the beach in hopes that the surf might be good... it wasn't so I ran instead and then swam in the ocean. It feels like a comfortable swimming pool on a hot day.

The last few days have been a real opportunity to reflect upon my stay here in Japan. In light of some of the personal things that have really become apparent as weaknesses and points for personal improvement, I must separate the introspection from the incredible experiences I have had here and focus on the gratifying aspects of this first leg of my journey. Food, flowers, places and people are a few of the things that define my reality- that goes for in the states too.

As I mentioned before... the people here are incredible. They are so level, so kind and unassuming, so polite and non-judgmental, patient and hospitable. I am humbled by some of the ways in which the culture of Japan creates a slight bit of a utopia. You can leave your stuff chillin' on the beach and know that it will be there when you get back to it. You don't have to lock your bike unless it's really nice. You don't have to lock your doors at night... if it weren't for some of the creepy bugs we would just leave ours open 24/7. There is a collective honesty here that is quite admirable and it really feels safe. There aren't really too many shady characters here... people just don't seem to be that way and if they are...they keep it to themselves out of respect. (I'm not in Tokyo, I imagine it is a bit seedy in spots there). It is refreshing to think that there really are places in the world where people are generally kind hearted for no other reason than to be that way. I think that's pretty cool.



I have just recently met some new people that I want to say a few words about. These people have just been so nice, and have qualities about them that, if everyone had them and used them, the world would be a better place.

The first couple are students and friends of Emily. They are a happily married couple in their 60s, well traveled and classy... still very Japanese. They have done so much for Emily over the last several months that it has truly been a blessing for her to know them, and for me too. They invited me over for tea and snacks and wine... they took the both of us to a very, very expensive sushi dinner in Yokohama, they took us for a Japanese/Italian meal another night, and tempura lunch another time. They don't even know me, yet they were so kind and generous.

(the pic on the left is just somebody random near the fish market).

Eichiro(eh-ichi-ro) and Kazuko are their names. As a couple... I must say they're adorable. I'm not sure if they had an arranged marriage or if it was non-traditional... not something you really want to ask about... either way they act very much in love and take great care of each other. They understand English and can speak it reasonably well (thanks to Emily), but even when they don't understand they are so graceful about asking for clarification, or just accepting it as something they didn't understand and moving on ( I can totally relate). We have had nice conversations. They are just such sweet and humble people, I can't get over them. I can only hope to be that cool.

We went to sushi with Kazuko and Eichiro for Emily's birthday, and I don't really think I will ever have such good sushi ever again. I surely will never look at an oyster the same way again, or sea urchin or tofu or miso or tuna or snapper or... the fact that it all tasted way, way better than anything I have ever eaten... pretty much means I can die knowing what heaven tastes like and having high expectations for whoever St. Peter's got catering the Pearly Gates Cafe.

The next person I would like to mention has changed my ideas of objectivity. Barnaby Haszard IV is a close friend of Emily, and a right stellar individual. The man is so damn calm and objective I sometimes wonder if he's human. He doesn't usually have much to say, but when he does it is pretty much straight forward and precisely what he wants to say. Like I have said before, I want to learn to say more with less. I admire Barns for that... and because he's New Zealander and his middle name is Haszard.

Next on the list is someone I met the other day. I have been wandering by this restaurant for several weeks on my way to and from the grocery co-op... and it always looked vacant. One day last week, I was wandering by, on my way to get groceries and I saw that it was open and there was a sandwich board outside with the daily specials written on it in chalk. I immediately noticed that it was written both in Japanese and perfect English. Sometimes you see funny versions of English on things, like the little pocket pack of Kleenex I received from the Yamaha corporation that said "Fun Your Life!"... it was promoting music and I think that's way cool... but the English is a bit funny, eh? Anyway, this particular sign had well written English on it and I was intrigued by what was on the menu. I walked inside, said sumimasen (excuse me) konnichiwa (hello) and sat down.

This place is called the Sunnyside Cafe, aptly named because it gets the afternoon sun and the whooshing of the monorail train all day. It very much reminds me of any number of places you might find on the Oregon or California coast. The food is awesome and comes from a very different menu from most other places. It is run by a woman named Noboru which in literal translation in masculine form means (to climb).

Noboru is about 5'7", pretty tall for a Japanese woman, and has the classically beautiful Japanese look that easily masks 10 or 15 years, though I estimate she is in her early 30s . She is built like a bean stalk... perhaps her name is fitting. She is tall, lanky and likely only about 100lbs if she were carrying a big sack of rice. Noboru speaks good English and was great to talk to. She had spent a year in Santa Monica, CA. "going to school" and learning English. By "going to school" she means, she hung around in small bistros and cafes of Santa Monica and talked to old people. I found her story interesting, that she now runs her restaurant on the weekends and works as a receptionist for her father's medical practice. I hope she can turn that restaurant into more than her hobby. She is a great cook and her place has a uniquely artistic style that I haven't seen any of in Japan. Her lamb stew and cous cous was spectacular and the home made falafel reminded me of the badass falafel cart outside the UO bookstore.

Noboru helped me with a vegetable that I bought at the co-op... I thought it might have been like a cucumber, but no, it was something called 'goya'. "Bitter Melon" is something they eat a lot of in Okinawa. They usually prepare it fried with a bunch of salted meat and eggs. The name doesn't lie- holy hell it's bitter- that's why it was only Y100 ($1). She grabbed a cook book and eagerly tried to find the best ways to prepare goya so it wouldn't be so gnarly. I made it with fried rice and onions and mushrooms... it made great 'put the drunkyasses to sleep' food. Today I went back to thank her for her help, and that's when I had the falafel.

She inspires me to maybe one day, if the opportunity presents itself, open a small bed and breakfast somewhere beautiful. It's a reminder that you can do things that you like, and make a living, even if it is simple. Perhaps it's the simplest things in life that are so often taken for granted, overlooked and forgotten that once remembered can reawaken the truth within us and rekindle the sense of contentment we had as children-when stacks of mail and keys, shoes and other inanimate objects satisfied our needs for stimulation like a bag of cheerios could fulfill entertainment and hunger at the same time.


There is a record shop in Kamakura. It's on the same street as about 4 shoe stores, 3 dress shops, 2 day spas and a shop that only sells 1 pastry.
At any rate, I was wandering around Kamakura's downtown with a surfboard and a luke warm beer looking for a place to buy a yoga mat (as if I don't look gaijin enough by simple virtue of actually being gaijin). That's when I heard some bitchin tunage... Beres Hammond blairing from inside the rasta shop.

I couldn't help myself. You see, I have this thing...a weakness if you will. There are a few things that are tasty enough to distract me and pull me away from a mission (yoga mat), and aside from the beer and the surfboard already occupying my imagination and my delight, only pretty girls (not likely), rad mountain bikes (quite likely), free beer and rare, high quality vinyls could do it. My Achilles heel... the smell of rare vinyl records. It's as if I were Toucan Sam following my nose to the froooty flavors of Froooot Looops!

So if you've ever seen Japanese people dance, or 'groove', get jiggy if you will, then you know that the only thing whiter than a white guy is a Japanese guy. I swear. Look it up on youtube or in the encyclopedia. So my horrible stereotyping of people was easily thwarted by the two guys in OST. They weren't dancing, but I bet if you sent them to Reggae on the River they would be in the front row Rude Boy Shufflin', Easy Skankin' and passin' the doochie han de left han side. These guys are really cool... pretty well versed in all kinds of music and very willing to listen to anything that might sound good in somebody's ears. Open music lovers unite.

Tsyoshi and Yuichi spend their days hanging out listening to music. It's like working at Dutch Bros. only you don't really do... anything. These guys were really nice, and just excited to speak English to somebody, and super stoked to share the love of all types of music. They had stacks of old reggae, dub and ska records that were mostly in immaculate condition, and at a reasonable price. If I had the money, I would have bought most of their LP's and shipped them home. I almost bought a few, but I can't take them to India, and I don't trust that they would make it to the states without being warped by heat or moisture or pressure.

Thanks to Tsyoshi and Yuichi at OST...
I am reminded again that music is the universal soul language by which we can all relate. Through the vibrations which permeated our own mother's womb we were trained in the connective ways of love and music. To my knowledge, there is not a cultural group on this tiny planet that doesn't practice some form of musical expression. For all of the ways we can see differences and put up walls- music can make those things transparent. Music can melt away the sheets of ice and little plastic trays that divide us into perfectly impersonal packages of pre-shaped frozen nuggets-in the freezer case, waving from a frosty distance. Music unites.


The other night we went out to a place on the beach near Hase. It's called Seedless, and it's a pretty California style joint, as it claims to be. I had a great burger, and on Thursdays they have $3 pints... can't beat that anywhere in Japan. We had to meet her friend Mike and give him her old computer and have a visit. Well it's easy to drink beer in that place, so we did. After a couple of hours, I was about ready to leave, had already paid and everything... dude stumbles up and starts talking to us. This is pretty unusual for Japanese to do, even in a bar.

Well it turns out that Ichi and his friend Taka were born two days appart in the same hospital and their parents lived like a hundred feet from eachother. These two guys were destined to be friends, and they are. Ichi is currently not working, but is definitely a computer science guy... kind of has to be. He's all about quannum physics and you know, space and time stuff? Pretty fascinating. He spoke pretty good English, and don't let him tell you different, because he doesn't think so. I had no problem hearing what he had to say.

His friend, Taka, owns a restaurant in Kamakura near Hachimangu temple. I think we're going there tomorrow. His mother ran the business until she lost her fight with cancer... he took over. He says there are customers that have been going there since he was an infant. He studied computer science and IT in Canada, Toronto I believe. He speaks perfect English and said the best thing about Canada is their passion for hockey. He later gave us a ride home.

These two guys are so nice, and so real. We had great conversations and many laughs. Hanging out with cats like that is going to make me miss being here as much as it makes me miss being home. They have a friendship bond that is almost as much like a brotherhood as being blood. I should hope everyone has at least one person in their life like that. If you don't, gimme a call. Theres room for one more.

Those two guys remind me of my family and friends and coworkers. Those people who will always be your rock, and you theirs, are invaluable to the human spirit. I can't help but feel that relationships are so easily taken for granted. There is something serious to be said about loyalty and unconditional love, but I think it's best left unsaid.


I leave on Monday, and there is so much more to write about... but maybe I'll write more tomorrow. Just remind me to tell you about tombi attacks and pachinko, combinis and oh crap!!! I have to take a picture of something very specific tomorrow!

TTFN!

Be good people!

Nothin but Love,

Chris