Hippie up in Goa

OK, where did I leave off last. I think I was in Bangalore recovering from a late curse of Chicken Pox last I wrote. The Pox really wasnt so bad. I was lucky to get away with mild fever for three days. Going to Bangalore ended up being a big mistake. I spent most of my efforts busing across town to the Tata Indicom service center to have my mobile modem service repaired. In a week there was no success to I took the loss and threw in the towel. I guess the future of information technology is not for me, not quite yet. My big Bangalore highlight was test driving a REVA, India's own electric car. Short but sweet. I also randomly visited a non proffit, Anti Corruption Agency, and learned all about India's systemic funds filching woes.

On a whim I set off to Goa to recharge my social life and boy am I pleased I did. I landed in Benaulin then bounced up to Arambol after a couple days seeking out the young writhing masses. There they were, European, jobless, free, and getting tan on the warm cow infested beach. Arambol is where it's at. Beach huts from $4/night with restaurants and bars line the sand (my hut was enviably the most exposed with a door that landed me directly in the beach traffic). Hella hippie outfit shopping lined the one street with swirly colors and Ali Baba pants everywhere. I bought nothing expecting to get my fix in Jaipur. And the water is bath temperature with happy little waves to play in.

A short walk around the hill at the end of the beach and you will discover a small paradise with another beach, isolated and backed by a clean and swimable fresh water pond. The ridge above this beach hosts lovely conditions for paragliding. For $30 you can go tandem. I opted to throw down $120 and spend the week learning to do it solo. My instructor was a super tanned Dutchman renamed Madu by his Guru, Osho. Everyone was talking about Osho. Apparently he was arrested in Oregon at some point. Madu is a wise paraglider and heatedly advised me not to do it as he could provide no insurance or responsibility for my life. But I thought, "Isn't that how did people do things before trial lawyers?" Besides, how could I say no to flying free like the birds, soaring effortlessly, hundreds of feet above the earth and what a view. This was definitely my style. The grin on my face says it all.

I also picked up a staff and started to learn to spin fire. Flying like a bird, playing with fire, stupid things I know but hey, I made it right? Actually, I never got around to using fire. I just practiced my moves.

Yeah, Arambol was loads of fun. Lots of new agieness going on. One of my favorite spots was the magic park where you can receive a sermon on The Great Freedom (short moments of awareness many times is the road to salvation) in the morning, and participate in a contact improv session after dark eating vegan chocolate cake in the mean time. To all my alternative minded, hippie, burner, circus friends, go to Arambol if you get the chance.

I will leave you with an especially insightful ditty David, my slightly cynical English friend, and I picked up from a group of spiritualizers on the beach at sunset. "Everything is magnificent. The waves are coming in. The waves are coming in" Repeat until you are the last one there. A hand drum helps as well.

Mumbai-o-listic

I had big hopes for my week in Mumbai, a list of companies and non profits to visit, and the big city nightlife to captivate me. Unfortunately, I will always remember Mumbai as the city where I got Chickenpox. I know, right. What the heck? I am definitely too old to get Chickenpox and most certainly no where near my mother's loving care. Oh well.

Before I got feverish and rashy I managed to enjoy myself and do a bit of exploring. My first night I was whisked away by Kunal, the lucky gentleman just engaged in Jaipur, to a rooftop birthday party under the full moon. Friends and family sang amplified Bollywood classics until the neighbors called the cops. Everyone was singing along to dozens of songs from decades ago. As it was explained to me by Kunal, The movie culture here is more of a religion than a pastime and of course it is all about the songs.

Next to the hotel I first stayed at was a massive Hare Krishna temple so I poked my head in for a look. It was quite ornate with plenty of marble, sparkling gold and silvery trim, and brilliant draperies with matching holy men. My Hare Krishna experience is limited to hippie festivals which is much less impressive than witnessing the source. Honestly, I always though it was some sort of cult. More cultish, that is, than a regular once a week sort of religion. So I bought a book from the temple gift shop to educate myself, Introduction to Bhagavad-gita, basically an intro to Krishna's version of the bible. And thats how I was converted. I'm not coming home anymore. Come visit if you would like. Just kidding.

I also snuck in a lovely sunset walk along Juhu beach. I was lonely as heck but delighted by the massive stretch of sand and throngs of Mumbai'ites out getting messy in the low tide. Strangely, I couldn't see the horizon because of the nasty air pollution which I learned more about later. The water was warm but too brown for my blood. Lots of fun games like cricket, capture the eel, and dodge ball were going on. With nightfall a carnival scene emerged with silly electronic fortune tellers along with vendors selling crappy, glowing, spinning toys from china.

My one sightseeing splurge was to go on a guided Slum Tour. Sounds miserable but the idea of the tour is to show a fun and highly functional slum with massive recycling industry, leather production, pottery, etc. My favorite part was the machine shops where they made their recycling shredders. Shoes and eye protection? Yeah right. Saddest part was watching toxic black smoke pouring from a kiln burning old paint cans. There were workers with their faces in it.

I wasn't so interested in sight seeing and such so I visited the Indian Institute of Technology to see what I could learn about transportation and pollution in India. I actually got to give a presentation to a dozen transportation students and some professors. I told them what I thought about stuff back home and asked them about theirs. The students were disappointingly shy; I probably looked cooler and more important than I actually am. Basically, India and Mumbai are all about trains. Six million folks commute by train every day just in Mumbai. I took the trains to get around too and they were great, came every three minutes, pay if you are in the mood, no doors, people pooping next to the tracks. The professor I talked to about air pollution had just finished a massive study to characterize the city's air which is cool because it is the first of its kind and signals a shift to awareness and possibly action.

Later I moved to the backpacker ghetto to make friends and share some company. Unfortunately, thats when I got the evil skin blistering poultry virus only meant for children. I was first incorrectly diagnosed and given antibiotics but disappointingly that didn't pan out. I just holed myself up for a few days in my spacious hotel room, had weird dreams, and commiserated with my Chinese come Australian roommate, Yan, who just had thousands of dollars of camera equipment stolen and is taking rabies medicine for a dog bite.

A really important thing to come out of my time in Mumbai is that I'm coming home early! I realized I'm not up for 6 more months away from home and especially not wandering around alone in scary places like India and China. So, I'm gonna visit my friends in Nepal, Papau New Guinea, and Australia and be home around April 18. Don't plan a party or anything.

One last thing. I had a beer at a table with a grenade crater under it from the November attacks. Pretty cool eh? Security was high.

The Ancients

Hey, look at me. I'm blogging from my laptop harbor side in Mumbai. I splurged big time and bought a mobile modem so I can connect anywhere there is mobile phone reception, anytime. Its a bit over the top but I felt like treating myself and how cool is this. Its the FUTURE! Invest in this stock, especially for the third world where wires are expensive. In a fit of blissful digital mastery I took two of these photos minutes ago to to beam them to your screens and note the spot from where I am blogging. ZAPP!

India is a place that takes a long time to describe. There is heaps of stuff to mention. One of my favorite attempts at a description is simply to call it weird because there is just so much randomness going on. One street in a given town will have several marble temples dripping with fresh chrysanthemums, a walk in well turned turtle shrine, piles of garbage, a juice man, children flying kites, beggars, business suits, and a veg restaurant, beauty salon, or fabric store along with the ubiquitous chanting and bells parade. After family time in Jaipur (in spite of my taking the piss out of them they really are a fabulously functional and fun family) I jumped down to Araungabad with Scott to check out some ancient history at the caves of Elora and Ajanta.

The Elora caves are a mere 1000 years old and hand chiseled from volcanic rock. Of the 30+ caves, Jain, Buddhist, and Hindi temples are represented, the Shiva temple being the largest monolithic carving in the world! Wahoo! People really did stuff that long ago even without the internet. Larger than life ball reliefs everywhere told amazing stories of celestial creation and hella' god drama like weddings, card games, war... You name it, Shiva and his friends did it. Brilliant people they were planning ahead a thousand years to provide their ancestors a source of tourist income.

The Ajanta caves win the age contest at over 2000 years old. These are all Buddhist and are set half way up a horseshoe cliff cut by the river below. Amazingly, delicious colorful paintings of daily life and spiritual matters survive on the walls and ceilings throughout. It was too much to take in during my day trip but I could begin imagine the fabulousness of spending weeks, years, a lifetime meditating there next to your very own massive stone Buddha chillin' in teaching pose, cross legged with thumb and forefinger pinching the opposite pinkie. Id probably just do a week.

Scott and I also poked around nearby Dalautabad, an epic castle starting from 1100 AD with layers of walls, motes, sheer cliffs and labyrinths to protect the palace, temples, shrines, and giant red falice. The locals are very proud of their creation, naming it the best fortified castle in all of India and the first to use psychological strategies i.e. darkness and false doors. How clever. Again, people were serious about making stuff happen way back in the day. Thanks for dragging me along Scott. It was a supreme week of sightseeing.

Now I'm in Mumbai. Ill have to write about it soon so stay tunned. In the mean time, check this out. Stuff White People like #120. I have been nailed. Whats the use of privilege if you dont use it anyways? And my backpack only costs $4 so ha.

Jaipur

Five years ago I was blessed to be able to join the festivities of an Indian wedding in Jaipur, Rajasthan. The party lasted four nights with the final ceremony in the Maharajah's palace. The decorations were elaborate with chrysanthemum hung walls around marble terraces. And the food, I will always remember the food. Night after night, day after day, vegetarian spreads of several curries marbled with clarified butter fat to be eaten with a freshly made whole wheat flat bread. Spicy, but not too spicy, the tasty sensations captivated me.

For five years I have dreamed of that food and now I have the immense pleasure of enjoying it again. Same family, same town, but this time it is an engagement ceremony. All the elaborateness is still there just the ceremony is missing. Oh delicious spicy fatty savory sweetness of uncomprehendablly delicious combinations how I love thee. This is also the first time all twenty plus members of this particular family have ever been together at once. Everything is lovely and fabulous. Sort of. With such a dramatic family event will obviously come some drama and the characters in this particular family are keen to play the games. So here is the gossip.

The occasion is an engagement so all the overzealous matchmaking mothers and aunties get super excited and cause problems by starting rumors and blowing whatever they can out of proportion. There is a generational conflict involved as well that I think fuels the flames or at least increases the stress levels. The parents, for the most part, are in arranged marriages where their parents held the power and the final word when it came to choosing their partner. The current marrying age generation, at least in this family, has managed to assert themselves, both boys and girls, and marry who they like. This engagement is no exception coming from a love affair that has lasted for four years with a stubborn daughter refusing to back down to her fathers objections. I pried a bit but no one was making a big deal of it, probably a good thing, and attention was focused elsewhere. All the eligible ones are put on the spot and prodded about their marrying possibilities.

In particular, my Indian friend Kartini, and her Australian boyfriend, Scott, were the subject of such discussion. Prior to this visit Kartini spent weeks delicately breaking the news to her father that she is seriously dating this Australian boy and thus their very substantial relationship was acknowledged. Kartini's mother, Rimi, took this as clear enough evidence that they would be getting engaged. So, when Kartini and Scott arrived immediately after an undoubtedly emotional reunion (they had been living in different countries for six months prior) the first thing they were greeted with were congratulations. Scott though it was for his PHD work but in fact the whole family had been wrongly informed that they were to be married. Outraged and outdone, Kartini pulled her mother behind closed doors and shared a fantastically tearful conversation demanding, first, some respect, and second that her engagement be officially recalled. And so it was. Good effort Rimi but you are just going to have to wait a bit longer for that one.

Karini has an older sister, Riki who arrived before her. Riki didn't bring any boys with her but Rimi was kind enough to ask, in front of a crowd of family members, if she had any plans to get married. Awkwardness seeped into the room signaling for everyone to leave the mother and daughter for some one on one. Riki has been dating Cathleen for four years now and recently had a confidence breakthrough becoming more secure about her homosexuality. So, when the room was cleared, Riki collected herself and told her mother everything, and that was that. Rimi at least had suspicions and was prepared to some extent. Riki's father, on the other hand, only gets to know that she isn't getting married yet. That makes two strikes for Rimi. It has been a tough few days for her but she is a fabulous woman and takes it all in perfect stride.

Everyone seemed to be getting sick. Scott was sick, Kartini, Riki, these other people were sick too. The groom, who was sneezing, says it is because the local water is has so many minerals. Fortunately for me I grew up with Fresno well water and was nicely adapted. Rimi has been medicating everyone with batches of zinc and orange juice with fantastic results. Cousin Nanu could be seen taking half a dozen pills to cure something exotic. Remedies are everywhere. Uncle was quite sick as well. He is a brave man who traveled around Europe for four years starting at the age of 18 with only five hundred bucks in his pocket. He was bringing his American wife and two teenage daughters to India for the first time and the wife's family was giving him hell for it. They accused him of needlessly endangering his children by bringing them to a war zone. Remember the recent terrorist shootings? Of course you do. He described the week before coming as the most stressful week of his life. Even the eldest daughter, who is presently submitting college applications, got a stomach ulcer from all the turmoil. In the end the correct decision was made and after a brief period of adjustment, comfort and fun has become the norm for all.

And then there is me. Since I'm only a friend I don't get to participate in family craziness, unless I did something stupid to offend people. I probably just don't hear all the gossip about me. Actually, I am a little disappointed there were zero attempts to match me up with daughters. Don't the elders think I am a catch enough? My ego is tarnished. Instead, my drama is far removed from the scene here. I am terribly love sick having realized that what I now want is the girl I left behind and who is no longer mine. In the brief moments I can stand to the side and look in objectively I can see that I am nothing unique, just another casualty of love, one among countless others. “Welcome to the club,” I was congratulated by a good friend. But from the inside, it is the whole world.

Becomming The Tourist

http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=Yjni3dOwSBE

Up to the land of my ancestors I went,
Holland and Denmark were my grandfathers' decent.

I imagined lots of white and fluffy Christmas snow,
And for everyone and their mother to look like my bro.

So I packed extra clothes, warm gloves and all,
And headed north from Belgium, long gone was the Fall.

Of the snow there was none,
So I looked for other fun.

I studied the culture with lovely brick/cobblestone clues,
And found that indeed, they wore pointy wooden shoes!

The cliches kept coming
As herds of windmills running,
Out of their grainy past
And into modern electrical masts.

There was a Christmas man around complete with white beard and velvety red coat
But his name wasn't familiar, it was Sinterclaus, and he came on a boat.

Even more awkward were his gangs of black slaves,
Dressed in bright clothes, gingersnap cookies to children they gave.

But I was happy to learn, even with the wet and the cold,
Everyone was riding a bicycle both young and old.

Speaking of bicycles, I joined a good friend named Jason Moore,
Who studies the wobbles of a two wheeled mathematical metaphor.

Together we moved from The Netherlands to Copenhagen,
We missed the train so we took a bus, barely a covered wagon.

Couchsurfing.com we were ambitious and tried,
Considering Denmarks prices we would have otherwise surely died.

A bowl of soup at a cozy downtown cafe,
Costs $15 or five Californian burritos what the hey?

Two strangers took us in,
They names, Claudia and Morton.

They were friendly and generous and travelers of their own.
Staying with them I felt almost at home.

Crazy and rowdy we danced in the street,
Hella cool people were easy to meet.

With a cargo trike full of DD bliss.
We cruised that bad city “Becoming the Tourist”.

Then off to Sweden we roamed,
To an old friend's farm country home.

Swedish Christmas dinner parties are fantastic,
The spread will make your taste buds go spastic.

So we at and drank and did easy things of the sort,
I was saving energy for three nights at the airport.

Now here I am all ruffled and cute,
Flying from Moscow to Delhi without my parachute.

Netherlands Safari

It was a brisk but sunny winter's day. I was bicycling just North of the city of Amsterdam on my way to an Ajax football game, that's Dutch for quality soccer. Cars were zipping along the highway safely to my right separated from the smoothly paved bicycle and moped path by a few meters of grass and a railing. Sheep grazed in the grassland to my left. Unexpectedly, a shimmering red dot appeared on the horizon in line with the bicycle path. My eyes were adjusting to the distance as the dot approached at an impressive pace. I couldn't believe my luck. It was a real live Sunrider in its natural habitat eating up kilometers with the utmost efficiency. The Sunrider is a highly evolved species of pedal powered transporters indigenous to the Netherlands. It combines battery electric assist with human muscle to achieve speeds of up to 50 kph for at least 50 km. At 15 Wh/km when cruising the Sunrider sips energy at the rate of over 1000 miles per gallon. Later in the day, after my friend and I snuck into the game at halftime and enjoyed some invite only hors d'oeuvres in the business lounge, I spotted another Dutch native, a wind turbine swinging its arms in the sunset winds. The Wind Turbine is not as rare as the Sunrider but enjoys a symbiotic partnership with its more exotic friend by harvesting electrical energy from the wind for the Sunrider's batteries. In return, the Sunrider's passengers keep the Wind Turbine well oiled and plant new ones. It was really nice to get the chance to witness two beautiful native species coexisting happily in the Dutch ecosystem.

The next day I visited the small warehouse in the nearby industrial center where the Sunriders are assembled. This vehicle has been in development for a good ten years now and is easily the most efficient commercially available enclosed electric vehicle, a true work of art. It boasts a carbon monocoque frame with simple steering and suspension systems mostly engineered from scratch. The electric drive is from the same Chinese company I used for my trike project, Crystalite, and peaks at 1.2 kW. I got to drive/ride one myself and found it to be a bit touchy in the steering control but otherwise awesome and sexy. It was a bit like flying a small plane but on the ground. For comparisons sake, the PET feels more powerful but it also uses more energy. They cost about 5k euro fully equipped and there is a waiting list as production is slow. Apparently it is difficult to find investors to sponsor medium scale production facilities for this cool lookin' animal, even in Holland.

Presentation

I got to give a presentation of myself to some faculty at Group T. How cool is that? I guess the students I was working with had some trouble explaining who I was and what I was doing there. I love talking about myself so it was easy. Here I am describing my biggest passion in life. Bass fishing. Look at the size of those mothers. Actually this was the opening slide, just trying to break the ice.