Dan started and ends work earlier today which will be perfect for a saturday night on the town tonight. He went to work early and I started hitting the town around 10ish. I walked all over town, until my feet blistered, checking out a lot of different stores on a desperate and so far failing quest for Engrish t-shirts (the one souvenir I MUST get from Japan). Eventually I wandered into a Pachinko arcade. Pachinko is a strange Japanese gambling (I think) game in which you purchase hundreds of small marbles, put them in a machine in which you must turn a dial at the right pressure to not over or under shoot a drop zone of sorts and then watch as your marbles bounce through a Plinko-like area hopefully falling into the proper holes. If you get things in the proper holes then a bunch of crazy stuff happens on your screen and you get slot machine like things to happen and other crazy Japanese stuff like lasers and robots and screaming in Japanese. I don't know, it's all very very loud and confusing but in some way mesmerizing and fun. If you do well then you get more marbles though I'm not yet sure if there's a skill to it. I went once in the morning then went with Dan after lunch because he hadn't been. When I first went I saw a guy who had 4 full baskets of marbles (worth at least 2,000 yen a piece I'd say) and when we saw him after lunch he had 6 baskets, so he must have the key to the game down. They also have slot machines of which I played a 24 themed machine and a Godzilla machine. Overall the place was kind of fun but mostly confusing and about 4 or 5 times louder than it needs to be.
After lunch, which we had at a place called Mos Burger, pretty standard and not bad fast food, I went to the famous Matsumoto Castle. Other than hiking in there mountains and I think Dan mentioned some hot springs, it is their big tourist attraction. The castle is apparently one of the oldest still standing in Japan and is pretty cool. Oddly enough it had very very steep steps which to me makes no sense for such short people. As I was leaving a tour guide named Ichiro asked me if he could speak English with me and I gratefully obliged informing him that it would be a delight to speak English with anyone as other than Dan I have had almost no use for words.
After he got off work Dan, his co-worker Matthew and I all went out on the town. Matthew has been in Japan for a couple years now and seems to be pretty much fluent in Japanese which was quite helpful. He first took us to a mexican restaurant that had a picture of Bart Simpson with a mustache, a poncho and a sombrero painted on the wall. They also had delicious enchiladas and, unexpectedly, my favorite drink, a Moscow Mule. Though the way they make it is Ginger Ale and Vodka with a lime and I know it as Ginger Beer, vodka and mulled lime, close enough nonetheless.
After dinner we went to a very trendy little club that used to be a house and a tile factory or something, Matthew was telling us all about it. There a nice guy who's name I forget did an excellent job DJing and we had drinks with some other Westerners, an Irish Guy, two Parisians and a girl claiming to be from Brockton Mass. though her accent and skin color made me think she was originally African or something. It was fun for a while but we moved on to the next bar, a place called Elbow Room. It was a small but nice bar and we sat in the corner drinking where we met an Australian named Daryl. As Daryl over indulged us with information we didn't particularly ask to hear about his marital infidelities as well as how he came to live in Japan and work in rebar a friend of his from across the bar eyed us and came over.
He was a curly-haired man who seemed very drunk, and was, and was not particularly happy to see us. His name was Michael and as he introduced himself he seemed almost upset that two of us were named Matthew (or maybe it was that not all of us were Matthew, I couldn't tell). As we divulged our hometowns I scoffed slightly when he said he was from Kansas thinking how weird it is that I, at the time, couldn't think of a single person I knew from Kansas, but here I was at a bar in Matsumoto meeting one. He thought I was laughing at Kansas, which is a completely laughable shit state anyways, and took offense to this. Basically he turned angry, or angrier really, very quickly. He started asking how long we'd been there, boasting that he had been there two full years to Matthew's one and a half. The quote of the night was definitely him saying to Matthew, "Let me ask you something. How many friends you got here?" He got angrier and just didn't like us, he tried to start a fight, attempting to take Matthew's glasses off as if he didn't want to break them. Fortunately Matthew explained to us all that if they so chose to the Japanese police could fuck our shit up royally and were legally allowed to hold us for 21 days with little to no reason. This kept our camp peaceful even through Michael getting dragged out and returning two or three times and when he angrily dubbed me "Mr. World Traveller" and slapped me in the face, to which I quite literally turned the other cheek offering to let him hit me again. When all was said and done we bought Daryl a drink for helping resolve the situation, waited til we knew Michael was long gone and headed to the universal hub of late-night drunken eating, McDonald's, proclaiming Michael the King of Matsumoto on our walk there. Once there I got a chicken sandwich, Matthew got a burger and Dan got the Shaka Shaka Chicken, which is basically a slab of chicken breast which one shakes up in a bag to add spices (thus Shaka Shaka) and we then called it a night all semi-wishing we had taken up The King of Matsumoto on his offer and dethroned him if you will.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Konnichiwah Japan
Wow! Tokyo is overwhelming. I didn't have the video camera with me to give you the full experience and my picture camera is shitty at taking night time photos but expect a lot of Tokyo pictures when Dan and I hit up the town sunday night. I spent my short night there walking around Shinjuku where I was bombarded with people, bright flashing signs and the buzz of a Tokyo evening. The Japanese definitely have a larger taste and tolerance for outside food than the Indians did as I've already seen tons of coffee shops, several Starbucks (I'm not sure I saw any in India, Irish Pubs, Italian and French restaurants, two McDonalds and a KFC (India did have both). After walking about a half a mile away from my hotel and then turning back I finally decided on a restaurant that for whatever reason spoke to me. The restaurant specialized in Chicken Wings which were prepared in a sweet soyish/teriyakiish sauce with a black pepper spice to them. They were delicious but not a lot of meet on each wing. They also had a mascot who was plastered all over everything and essentially was a man with chicken wings and a face that looked like a Japanese Peter Lorre. Seeing as how Japan is very expensive and I already blew a ton of money on just one cab ride I'm getting as many free souvenirs as I can so I took some chop sticks with a strange little comic of the Japanese Peter Lorre Chicken on the packaging. After that I had a quiet night doing some much needed laundry at a laundromat in which the washing machine automatically added detergent (thank you to the girl who helped my confused, American ass on that one).
In the morning I got up early, checked out and headed to Shinjuku station to take a train to Matsumoto. There a nice Japanese guy in a Dodger's hat who spoke just enough English to help me did just that. He helped me get an express ticket to Matsumoto and directed me to platform 10. On the train I sat at the back of a car with my bigger bags behind my chair. About 30 minutes into the two and a half hour train ride a gaggle of older Japanese women started saying something to me and after a minute of confusion I realized they were asking for my seat. While this wasn't perhaps the most polite and proper thing to do (something I have seen my share of here) I'm not the type of guy to refuse his seat to an old lady on the train. There were some other people who had just gotten on and so I thought, that's fine, I'm young, I can be a stander for a few stops if I have to be. However the next thing I now the rest of the standers moved passed me and found seats and there were no others on my car, or at least close to my bags, which I obviously wasn't about to leave. I stood for a while, then I sat on the ground between cars for a while, then finally I moved all of my bags to a new car which I believe was like a reserved business class, but no one hassled me. I bought peanuts and read my book for the rest of the trip.
I met up with Dan at his school, Aeon, which is on the fourth floor of a small mall attached to the Matsumoto Train Station. I also met his boss, a nice woman who is the only Japanese person I've met so far to speak English very well. I guess it was just American ignorance and arrogance in me that assumed that a more modern country like Japan would know English better than the Indians, but it is completely the opposite. Granted a lot of that has to do with things like call centers and the fact that the Japanese have been able to be so modern and successful without significant American influence, but still I am shocked at how few people seem to know English. Dan tells me that many of them know more than they let on and most of them can read and write like pros but that they are very shy and self-conscious about it. I'm still enjoying my interactions and getting by as well as can be expected.
Dan took me to his place, a nice apartment with a kitchen, a bedroom (though his bed is a mattress on the floor, as is Japanese custom, so perhaps it should be called a floor mattress room), a bathroom and a balcony located about a 15-20 minute walk from the station. I got settled and he had to go off to work, leaving me with instructions to get back to the station and the main road so I could entertain myself and meet him for lunch.
Fortunately Dan is right around the corner from the Matsumoto Museum of Art, so that was my first stop. Some of the art there was pretty nice but many of them felt good for maybe a storefront art gallery but not really museum worthy (not that I'm the person to judge such things). They did however wow me in the end (something I respect unwaveringly). As I entered their permanent exhibit there was a long hallway with another unimpressive series of art, but at the end of the hall there was a door with instructions that I assumed meant to enter. I was right. The first room was a small, long, red room with mirrors on the ceiling and side walls. The pristine, red carpet crept up the wall on the sides to a sort of shelf that met the mirror. On the shelf was a garden of semi-fungal, plush red things with white spots on them. As I looked into the mirror I saw an unending series of me's in an unending garden of red with white spots on both the floor and then upside-down on the ceiling. This was very cool. After a few minutes messing around in the mirror room I walked into the next room, a white room with big, colorful polka dots all over the floor, walls and ceiling with huge, inflated, plastic balloons of the same design. This room led to a mirrored room that reminded me of the final scene from Bruce Lee's last movie except that in the middle of it was a hexagon of mirrors with a single square hole in it and changing colored lights coming out of the hole. I looked into the hole to see that it was also mirrored on all sides inside except the floor which was covered in lights that changed pattern and color causing an infinite floor of changing lights. The whole thing was very cool and very unexpected after the fairly unimpressive paintings I had seen (though some were legitimately very good and cool).
As I walked back to the station to meet Dan for lunch I noticed that about a block or two of the street leading to the station has a PA system that plays electronic, Japanese versions of American songs. The first time I passed it I heard "It's Not Unusual" by Tom Jones and the second time some Marley song was playing (I forget which).
I met Dan for lunch and he took me to a sort of Japanese fast food place. It had a menu on the wall as you walked in with two vending machines with colors and prices (and obviously Japanese words that did us little good) that we had to match to the food we wanted. It was pretty affordable, about 5 bucks for a decent sized bowl of food and miso soup, though I ordered too much. The food was good though and Dan and I exchanged stories about Japan and India respectively. Then Dan took me to a store or two and showed me some Japanese stuff explaining their drinks, their dried fishy snacks (a Dave Newberg favorite), and their strangely easy to obtain porn that is commonly read in public.
Dan returned to work and I worked my way back to his place, checking out a super market, a drug store, a sports store and a video game store on the way back. I watched some children's shows which were pretty fun with Japan-ified muppets/costumed people, a segment with a white guy named Eric who sang to children and made snow cones with them teaching them some English. They also had very cool rube goldberg machines as segues, always revealing the title of the show and singing it's jingle at the end. Then I switched to sumo wrestling (like I could resist). Overall Japanese TV seems to be mostly game shows, a few cheesy soap operas, baseball and cartoons. They only have 6 channels (not what I expected) which each repeat making it seem like there are 12 channels.
The rest of the day I read and rested and watched TV. Dan and I walked to the famous Matsumoto castle and had dinner at a place called Gusto where when we were ready to order we pushed a button and our waitress was there in seconds (something America could use for sure).
Dan is piggy-backing a weak wifi signal and I've yet to find any success in getting wifi in any cafes or anything here just yet (one had it but I needed some kind of contract, I dunno, like I said the language barrier is thick here) so if I don't get pictures up, check back for updates. Speaking of updates there is a new, can't-miss video on the goodbye goa post.
In the morning I got up early, checked out and headed to Shinjuku station to take a train to Matsumoto. There a nice Japanese guy in a Dodger's hat who spoke just enough English to help me did just that. He helped me get an express ticket to Matsumoto and directed me to platform 10. On the train I sat at the back of a car with my bigger bags behind my chair. About 30 minutes into the two and a half hour train ride a gaggle of older Japanese women started saying something to me and after a minute of confusion I realized they were asking for my seat. While this wasn't perhaps the most polite and proper thing to do (something I have seen my share of here) I'm not the type of guy to refuse his seat to an old lady on the train. There were some other people who had just gotten on and so I thought, that's fine, I'm young, I can be a stander for a few stops if I have to be. However the next thing I now the rest of the standers moved passed me and found seats and there were no others on my car, or at least close to my bags, which I obviously wasn't about to leave. I stood for a while, then I sat on the ground between cars for a while, then finally I moved all of my bags to a new car which I believe was like a reserved business class, but no one hassled me. I bought peanuts and read my book for the rest of the trip.
I met up with Dan at his school, Aeon, which is on the fourth floor of a small mall attached to the Matsumoto Train Station. I also met his boss, a nice woman who is the only Japanese person I've met so far to speak English very well. I guess it was just American ignorance and arrogance in me that assumed that a more modern country like Japan would know English better than the Indians, but it is completely the opposite. Granted a lot of that has to do with things like call centers and the fact that the Japanese have been able to be so modern and successful without significant American influence, but still I am shocked at how few people seem to know English. Dan tells me that many of them know more than they let on and most of them can read and write like pros but that they are very shy and self-conscious about it. I'm still enjoying my interactions and getting by as well as can be expected.
Dan took me to his place, a nice apartment with a kitchen, a bedroom (though his bed is a mattress on the floor, as is Japanese custom, so perhaps it should be called a floor mattress room), a bathroom and a balcony located about a 15-20 minute walk from the station. I got settled and he had to go off to work, leaving me with instructions to get back to the station and the main road so I could entertain myself and meet him for lunch.
Fortunately Dan is right around the corner from the Matsumoto Museum of Art, so that was my first stop. Some of the art there was pretty nice but many of them felt good for maybe a storefront art gallery but not really museum worthy (not that I'm the person to judge such things). They did however wow me in the end (something I respect unwaveringly). As I entered their permanent exhibit there was a long hallway with another unimpressive series of art, but at the end of the hall there was a door with instructions that I assumed meant to enter. I was right. The first room was a small, long, red room with mirrors on the ceiling and side walls. The pristine, red carpet crept up the wall on the sides to a sort of shelf that met the mirror. On the shelf was a garden of semi-fungal, plush red things with white spots on them. As I looked into the mirror I saw an unending series of me's in an unending garden of red with white spots on both the floor and then upside-down on the ceiling. This was very cool. After a few minutes messing around in the mirror room I walked into the next room, a white room with big, colorful polka dots all over the floor, walls and ceiling with huge, inflated, plastic balloons of the same design. This room led to a mirrored room that reminded me of the final scene from Bruce Lee's last movie except that in the middle of it was a hexagon of mirrors with a single square hole in it and changing colored lights coming out of the hole. I looked into the hole to see that it was also mirrored on all sides inside except the floor which was covered in lights that changed pattern and color causing an infinite floor of changing lights. The whole thing was very cool and very unexpected after the fairly unimpressive paintings I had seen (though some were legitimately very good and cool).
As I walked back to the station to meet Dan for lunch I noticed that about a block or two of the street leading to the station has a PA system that plays electronic, Japanese versions of American songs. The first time I passed it I heard "It's Not Unusual" by Tom Jones and the second time some Marley song was playing (I forget which).
I met Dan for lunch and he took me to a sort of Japanese fast food place. It had a menu on the wall as you walked in with two vending machines with colors and prices (and obviously Japanese words that did us little good) that we had to match to the food we wanted. It was pretty affordable, about 5 bucks for a decent sized bowl of food and miso soup, though I ordered too much. The food was good though and Dan and I exchanged stories about Japan and India respectively. Then Dan took me to a store or two and showed me some Japanese stuff explaining their drinks, their dried fishy snacks (a Dave Newberg favorite), and their strangely easy to obtain porn that is commonly read in public.
Dan returned to work and I worked my way back to his place, checking out a super market, a drug store, a sports store and a video game store on the way back. I watched some children's shows which were pretty fun with Japan-ified muppets/costumed people, a segment with a white guy named Eric who sang to children and made snow cones with them teaching them some English. They also had very cool rube goldberg machines as segues, always revealing the title of the show and singing it's jingle at the end. Then I switched to sumo wrestling (like I could resist). Overall Japanese TV seems to be mostly game shows, a few cheesy soap operas, baseball and cartoons. They only have 6 channels (not what I expected) which each repeat making it seem like there are 12 channels.
The rest of the day I read and rested and watched TV. Dan and I walked to the famous Matsumoto castle and had dinner at a place called Gusto where when we were ready to order we pushed a button and our waitress was there in seconds (something America could use for sure).
Dan is piggy-backing a weak wifi signal and I've yet to find any success in getting wifi in any cafes or anything here just yet (one had it but I needed some kind of contract, I dunno, like I said the language barrier is thick here) so if I don't get pictures up, check back for updates. Speaking of updates there is a new, can't-miss video on the goodbye goa post.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Orient Awaits
Ok, so after several hours more of traveling than I had planned for, a short stopover in the Bangkok (tee hee hee) airport and making the huge but honest mistake of taking a cab from the airport which is 75km from center Tokyo (whoops) and thus was way way WAY more than I wanted to pay, I have arrived safely in Japan. Anyways I'm too tired and too anxious to walk around the city to rewrite what I wrote during my layover in Bangkok so I'll just give it to you:
So here I sit, 6:45am Thai-Time in Bangkok. The flight was pretty nice, I ate food and watched a very cheezy Hindi movie called Victory about a cricketer (the english film was worse looking, a story about the guy who plays John Tucker in John Tucker must die falling in love with an Indian girl via phone from a call center) and slept straight through the last half of the flight literally right up to the time we taxied to the gate. Waking up in a sleepy confusion I went to the bathroom which I found oddly enough to be a single with a sliding door, at which point I noticed that my wallet was not in my pocket so I quickly ran back and got them to find it on the flight (phew!). Then when transferring a man at security checking my carry-on bags accidentally drooled into my bag a mistake that was embarrassing for him, gross for me and funny for both of us and I suppose could happen to any airline worker anywhere in the world later. I couldn't help but imagine an awkward white guy or one of the sassy, long-nailed black women who work in the DC airports doing the same thing and saying something like, "Oh I'm sorry shug!"
Hopefully I'll have the energy to do something fun tonight but I can make no promises. Regardless, in the morning I'll be hoppin' a train to Matsumoto where I'll be reuniting with everyone's favorite Engrish teacher. Expect lots of fun times from the both of us over the next 5 days.
So here I sit, 6:45am Thai-Time in Bangkok. The flight was pretty nice, I ate food and watched a very cheezy Hindi movie called Victory about a cricketer (the english film was worse looking, a story about the guy who plays John Tucker in John Tucker must die falling in love with an Indian girl via phone from a call center) and slept straight through the last half of the flight literally right up to the time we taxied to the gate. Waking up in a sleepy confusion I went to the bathroom which I found oddly enough to be a single with a sliding door, at which point I noticed that my wallet was not in my pocket so I quickly ran back and got them to find it on the flight (phew!). Then when transferring a man at security checking my carry-on bags accidentally drooled into my bag a mistake that was embarrassing for him, gross for me and funny for both of us and I suppose could happen to any airline worker anywhere in the world later. I couldn't help but imagine an awkward white guy or one of the sassy, long-nailed black women who work in the DC airports doing the same thing and saying something like, "Oh I'm sorry shug!"
Hopefully I'll have the energy to do something fun tonight but I can make no promises. Regardless, in the morning I'll be hoppin' a train to Matsumoto where I'll be reuniting with everyone's favorite Engrish teacher. Expect lots of fun times from the both of us over the next 5 days.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
From Mole to Mullet: Final Thoughts On India
As I sat in a cab between domestic and international airports, enjoying a beautiful sunset in Delhi accompanied by one of the better rainbows I've ever seen (all I could ask for from my 10 minute trip within the city) I couldn't help but think to myself about how absolutely, utterly perfect (a word I don't use lightly) this trip has been. That is until I got to the international airport and found out that for some reason our plane never came here from Tokyo, the flight is cancelled and they're putting me on a different flight connecting in Bangkok (tee hee hee) that will arrive in Tokyo about 7 hours later than I had planned. But other than this slight misstep the trip really has been perfect.
The gift of Denise's and her friends' experience, my fellow Ithacans in India, the kids at Adapt, the beautifully affordable shopping, the food, the fact that I haven't fallen deathly ill (knock on wood), the inexplicably great weather conditions (not too hot, not too rainy), the friends I've made, the things I've learned about myself and the world, Prasad and Reiki, and of course Goa, Goa, Goa! I honestly could not have asked for anything more. I couldn't have even really asked for all the things I've gotten without sounding greedy and unrealistic. I literally cannot think of a single thing that I would have changed about the trip, the timing and everything has been perfect (I didn't really get sick of Indian food until the last few days and was able to avoid it or have different, delicious, Goan cuisine). Every experience has been new and different and exciting and I'm continually having the feeling of "Wow! I can't believe today managed to top yesterday".
And it hasn't just been the big things, the stuff I've been writing about. There's so many little quirks and foibles that I haven't even managed to fit into the blog really. The Indian accent I've developed (which isn't so much an accent as a slowing of pace and mimicking of the different way they use English words and form sentences), the auto-ricks, the random misspellings (tyres and jewellery), the way the children treat me like a celebrity just because I'm white, the difference I felt from helping people who need it and appreciate it and the way I felt after helping out thankless beggars (not that I gave to them often or that they were all thankless but some were ridiculous in the way they'd beg and beg and beg and then completely shut off and walk off once they got from you), the way that people who want to know my name ask, "what is your good name sir?", the surprising joy people have shown towards me just for being from America (they like the US more than I do, and not just Indians, other travelers too), the way the Nigerians I met loved me because I mentioned Obama, oh and did I mention Goa! Goa! Goa! And finally the interesting hair I saw from my mole-man on the first flight to the worldly mullets (who knew they were so international) I saw both on a sketchy, obviously stoned out of his gourd Goan who tried to sell me drugs as well as on a nice young man on my flight to Delhi who could have been from any number of asian countries and who sported a legends of rock t-shirt and showed me his new Bob Marley tattoo.
Overall the thing that this trip has taught me most is that, while most places in the world have enough English for me to get by, the most universal language is a nice smile and a kind set of eyes. They have gotten me so much farther then I ever would have imagined and have instilled a new and stronger confidence in myself forever. Everyone told me before this trip about how it would change me and I'd come back a new man and I think the idea frightened me. I didn't want to change. I like who I am. I do have to admit though that while I'm still me I do feel slightly rejuvenated and improved, as if I've gone from Portman Gold to Portman Platinum Plus. It feels good and I hope that India is just the first in a long series of exciting and adventurous travels throughout my lifetime.
The gift of Denise's and her friends' experience, my fellow Ithacans in India, the kids at Adapt, the beautifully affordable shopping, the food, the fact that I haven't fallen deathly ill (knock on wood), the inexplicably great weather conditions (not too hot, not too rainy), the friends I've made, the things I've learned about myself and the world, Prasad and Reiki, and of course Goa, Goa, Goa! I honestly could not have asked for anything more. I couldn't have even really asked for all the things I've gotten without sounding greedy and unrealistic. I literally cannot think of a single thing that I would have changed about the trip, the timing and everything has been perfect (I didn't really get sick of Indian food until the last few days and was able to avoid it or have different, delicious, Goan cuisine). Every experience has been new and different and exciting and I'm continually having the feeling of "Wow! I can't believe today managed to top yesterday".
And it hasn't just been the big things, the stuff I've been writing about. There's so many little quirks and foibles that I haven't even managed to fit into the blog really. The Indian accent I've developed (which isn't so much an accent as a slowing of pace and mimicking of the different way they use English words and form sentences), the auto-ricks, the random misspellings (tyres and jewellery), the way the children treat me like a celebrity just because I'm white, the difference I felt from helping people who need it and appreciate it and the way I felt after helping out thankless beggars (not that I gave to them often or that they were all thankless but some were ridiculous in the way they'd beg and beg and beg and then completely shut off and walk off once they got from you), the way that people who want to know my name ask, "what is your good name sir?", the surprising joy people have shown towards me just for being from America (they like the US more than I do, and not just Indians, other travelers too), the way the Nigerians I met loved me because I mentioned Obama, oh and did I mention Goa! Goa! Goa! And finally the interesting hair I saw from my mole-man on the first flight to the worldly mullets (who knew they were so international) I saw both on a sketchy, obviously stoned out of his gourd Goan who tried to sell me drugs as well as on a nice young man on my flight to Delhi who could have been from any number of asian countries and who sported a legends of rock t-shirt and showed me his new Bob Marley tattoo.
Overall the thing that this trip has taught me most is that, while most places in the world have enough English for me to get by, the most universal language is a nice smile and a kind set of eyes. They have gotten me so much farther then I ever would have imagined and have instilled a new and stronger confidence in myself forever. Everyone told me before this trip about how it would change me and I'd come back a new man and I think the idea frightened me. I didn't want to change. I like who I am. I do have to admit though that while I'm still me I do feel slightly rejuvenated and improved, as if I've gone from Portman Gold to Portman Platinum Plus. It feels good and I hope that India is just the first in a long series of exciting and adventurous travels throughout my lifetime.
Goodbye Goa
On monday night Pinka, her friend who's name is Modesser (no idea if that's the right spelling) and I went out again to Mambo's the same club we went to Saturday. It was way less crowded than Saturday night but still a fun time was had. I made friends with some British and Spanish students who study in Spain and are here working in an orphanage, something many of them had done last year as well.
On tuesday I got up and Edwin took me to Panaji, where I did some shopping and saw some new beaches. The first store he took me to was called Blooming Dales (weird I know) and was a very cool store. I finally really splurged on myself a bit (not that this whole trip hasn't been one big splurge really) and bought a badass robe that I feel is the perfect "Oh you like it? I got it when I went to India" type of gift for myself. I also got a few other gifts for people and then proceeded to go to four different stores until I finally found the closest thing to marshmallows (weird, small, twisted, japanese marshmallows with fruity flavoring) as I could as well as some chocolate and some tea biscuits which where the closest thing to graham crackers I could manage, all to make s'mores for my cricket buddies.
I returned to the hotel, grabbed my book, my cowboy hat, and my hookah and headed to the beachside bar where I had gotten a drink and a massage the other day. There I had easily the best prawns of my life and probably the best meal since I arrived. Later my hookah drew the attention of the kitchen workers at the bar as well as that of a large group of cousins and brothers from Hyderabad. Who became very fast friends, feeding me food I didn't want (as I had just ate) and whiskey that I did want. They also made them start playing music and started dancing around and making me dance with them, giving me lessons on how to dance like an Indian and all taking turns wearing my hat (most of them putting it on backwards at first). Soon we grabbed our glasses and moved down to sit on the beach. There another white guy walked by and they quickly snatched him up insisting on uniting two lone white travelers. John, a British guy, sold his car to travel around for about a year because the job market is so bad in London and he seemed to have nothing better to do (like there is anything better to do). He was a bit of a stiff dancer which the Indians did not take well, but regardless he got the same treatment as me, being fed food and whiskey and getting dragged onto the dance floor. After several hours of drinking, dancing and pictures we parted ways, John joining me to make s'mores for the kids and our friends from Hyderabad exchanging contact info, insisting I visit them in Hyderabad one day and telling me that two of them will be in LA in May.
My new friends
Dancing With The Hyderabadians:
Because of the rain we could not do a traditional campfire, for which I had prepared a ghost story to tell over but ended up forgetting all about. Instead I had the open air restaurant at the hotel prepare a stove top and a table for us. For whatever reason many of the boys were not allowed to come so it was only about 6 of us. I explained to them that I did my best and that they were not getting true s'mores but that they should still be good. I showed them how to cook them and prepared the rest of the fix-ins for them one by one also having them cook them up for John and Pinka and Modesser and the staff at the restaurant who wanted them. Then we sat and ate and I ordered them a round of sodas which they slurped down joyfully as one of the boys gave John and I matching anchor tatoos on our arms (I had considered getting "Thug Life" on my stomach but decided against it because it would have been too time consuming and mambos awaited us.
We arrived at Mambos to a burst of excitement as all of my European friends from the night before yelled out my name in jubilation. The club was almost completely empty which was fine by me because we had our sizeable group and the dance floor to ourselves. I was surprised to find out that my European friends, who I assumed were 18 or 19 were actually just 15. Regardless they were a blast to hang out with and hopefully we'll reunite one day. We spent the night at mambos, then at another bar and ended the night with a walk on the beach and a light dip. One of them, Miles, a British boy was persistently smitten with Pinka who (for obvious reasons, like the fact that she's 10 years older than him) had none of it. We walked back and they said their goodbyes, as did John who I know was thankful to have met some people and had a good time.
Euro Friends:
All in all, Goa is unbelievable and I am confident that I will return, hopefully many times, during my lifetime.
On tuesday I got up and Edwin took me to Panaji, where I did some shopping and saw some new beaches. The first store he took me to was called Blooming Dales (weird I know) and was a very cool store. I finally really splurged on myself a bit (not that this whole trip hasn't been one big splurge really) and bought a badass robe that I feel is the perfect "Oh you like it? I got it when I went to India" type of gift for myself. I also got a few other gifts for people and then proceeded to go to four different stores until I finally found the closest thing to marshmallows (weird, small, twisted, japanese marshmallows with fruity flavoring) as I could as well as some chocolate and some tea biscuits which where the closest thing to graham crackers I could manage, all to make s'mores for my cricket buddies.
I returned to the hotel, grabbed my book, my cowboy hat, and my hookah and headed to the beachside bar where I had gotten a drink and a massage the other day. There I had easily the best prawns of my life and probably the best meal since I arrived. Later my hookah drew the attention of the kitchen workers at the bar as well as that of a large group of cousins and brothers from Hyderabad. Who became very fast friends, feeding me food I didn't want (as I had just ate) and whiskey that I did want. They also made them start playing music and started dancing around and making me dance with them, giving me lessons on how to dance like an Indian and all taking turns wearing my hat (most of them putting it on backwards at first). Soon we grabbed our glasses and moved down to sit on the beach. There another white guy walked by and they quickly snatched him up insisting on uniting two lone white travelers. John, a British guy, sold his car to travel around for about a year because the job market is so bad in London and he seemed to have nothing better to do (like there is anything better to do). He was a bit of a stiff dancer which the Indians did not take well, but regardless he got the same treatment as me, being fed food and whiskey and getting dragged onto the dance floor. After several hours of drinking, dancing and pictures we parted ways, John joining me to make s'mores for the kids and our friends from Hyderabad exchanging contact info, insisting I visit them in Hyderabad one day and telling me that two of them will be in LA in May.
My new friends
Dancing With The Hyderabadians:
Because of the rain we could not do a traditional campfire, for which I had prepared a ghost story to tell over but ended up forgetting all about. Instead I had the open air restaurant at the hotel prepare a stove top and a table for us. For whatever reason many of the boys were not allowed to come so it was only about 6 of us. I explained to them that I did my best and that they were not getting true s'mores but that they should still be good. I showed them how to cook them and prepared the rest of the fix-ins for them one by one also having them cook them up for John and Pinka and Modesser and the staff at the restaurant who wanted them. Then we sat and ate and I ordered them a round of sodas which they slurped down joyfully as one of the boys gave John and I matching anchor tatoos on our arms (I had considered getting "Thug Life" on my stomach but decided against it because it would have been too time consuming and mambos awaited us.
We arrived at Mambos to a burst of excitement as all of my European friends from the night before yelled out my name in jubilation. The club was almost completely empty which was fine by me because we had our sizeable group and the dance floor to ourselves. I was surprised to find out that my European friends, who I assumed were 18 or 19 were actually just 15. Regardless they were a blast to hang out with and hopefully we'll reunite one day. We spent the night at mambos, then at another bar and ended the night with a walk on the beach and a light dip. One of them, Miles, a British boy was persistently smitten with Pinka who (for obvious reasons, like the fact that she's 10 years older than him) had none of it. We walked back and they said their goodbyes, as did John who I know was thankful to have met some people and had a good time.
Euro Friends:
All in all, Goa is unbelievable and I am confident that I will return, hopefully many times, during my lifetime.
Monday, July 13, 2009
South Goa
Today my driver Edwin (Boxer's cousin he sent because he was unavailable) took me all over South Goa. I went to a few churches in Old Goa, one of which had a museum inside with tons of portraits including an Indian former Goan Prefect who looked kind of like Obama and another Portuguese guy who was a dead ringer for Dick Cheney but with a big 19th century mustache.
The Churches Of Old Goa
I also went to the largest Hindi temple in Goa (still not that big). I got out of the car and had about a 200 yard walk to the temple and it was raining so I finally cracked after 3 and a half weeks of being in India during monsoon season and went to one of many vendors that were right there and bought an umbrella. After about 5 minutes of trying to pick out an umbrella that wouldn't break apart immediately (I was gonna buy a different one and the guy went to show me how to open it and the handle fell off in his hands) I made my purchase, and opened the umbrella just as it stopped raining. Regardless the temple was cool.
As I was leaving this bad ass old guy was selling coconuts that he cut open with a machete for you to drink the milk. I couldn't resist.
The Coconut Man
I also went to a spice plantation where they greeted me with pooja flowers, a red dot on my forehead (that took long enough) and lunch (yum!). Then I got a tour of the plantation where the woman would rip off different bits of bark or leaves as we went and just hand them to us to smell. The best were cinnamon bark, which I learned is where they actually get the cinnamon from and clove leaves. Afterwards I bought some oils and a liquor they gave me a shot of during lunch made from the fruits of cashew trees called Fenny (fay-knee).
Me at the Spice Plantation. If I'm smiling it's because the Fenny was strong
On the tour I noticed a sign that read "This way to the Elephant" and yet we saw no elephant. I asked the tour guide and she said the elephant is only there in the winter but that if I go further south to the Bondla Wildlife Sanctuary I could see elephants. So off we went, Edwin and I, to Bondla where I saw all kinds of animals. They normally offer Elephant rides but unfortunately do to rains they weren't allowing any rides...at all...trust me I tried to bribe them...repeatedly. They wouldn't even let me sit on one. I did manage to get to stand next to one and pet it's trunk.
Me with the Elephants
The rest of the animals
Then on my way back I stopped to by my new friends a new cricket bat. They were overjoyed when I brought it and I made them promise that by accepting it they would play for fun with sportsmanship towards their brothers and not fight over the game. Then we played a few games where I fielded and bowled very well but hit atrociously.
The Churches Of Old Goa
I also went to the largest Hindi temple in Goa (still not that big). I got out of the car and had about a 200 yard walk to the temple and it was raining so I finally cracked after 3 and a half weeks of being in India during monsoon season and went to one of many vendors that were right there and bought an umbrella. After about 5 minutes of trying to pick out an umbrella that wouldn't break apart immediately (I was gonna buy a different one and the guy went to show me how to open it and the handle fell off in his hands) I made my purchase, and opened the umbrella just as it stopped raining. Regardless the temple was cool.
As I was leaving this bad ass old guy was selling coconuts that he cut open with a machete for you to drink the milk. I couldn't resist.
The Coconut Man
I also went to a spice plantation where they greeted me with pooja flowers, a red dot on my forehead (that took long enough) and lunch (yum!). Then I got a tour of the plantation where the woman would rip off different bits of bark or leaves as we went and just hand them to us to smell. The best were cinnamon bark, which I learned is where they actually get the cinnamon from and clove leaves. Afterwards I bought some oils and a liquor they gave me a shot of during lunch made from the fruits of cashew trees called Fenny (fay-knee).
Me at the Spice Plantation. If I'm smiling it's because the Fenny was strong
On the tour I noticed a sign that read "This way to the Elephant" and yet we saw no elephant. I asked the tour guide and she said the elephant is only there in the winter but that if I go further south to the Bondla Wildlife Sanctuary I could see elephants. So off we went, Edwin and I, to Bondla where I saw all kinds of animals. They normally offer Elephant rides but unfortunately do to rains they weren't allowing any rides...at all...trust me I tried to bribe them...repeatedly. They wouldn't even let me sit on one. I did manage to get to stand next to one and pet it's trunk.
Me with the Elephants
The rest of the animals
Then on my way back I stopped to by my new friends a new cricket bat. They were overjoyed when I brought it and I made them promise that by accepting it they would play for fun with sportsmanship towards their brothers and not fight over the game. Then we played a few games where I fielded and bowled very well but hit atrociously.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
What A Place, What A Day OR The Ups And Downs (Mostly Ups) Of Goa
So, when I last left you all I had just arrived in Goa at my hotel which is again very nice despite the lack of good wireless internet, the fact that I keep getting electrocuted when I plug my computer in, the early morning disruptions from the well meaning staff and the TV which hasn't worked in about 24 hours now (though I think it's a cable outage and not really their fault). After I blogged I walked the short distance (maybe 100 yards) from my room to the beach to check it out though it was getting dark. And then went to a place recommended to me called Tito's where I had a very spicy dinner of Aloo Gobi (potatoes and cauliflower) and roti (Indian tortillas) and chocolate and butterscotch ice cream for dessert.
Tito's
After dinner I headed back to the hotel where I met a girl named Pinka, a Pakistani girl from Denmark who had been in Pakistan with her mom and came here for vacation with her friend, a guy who's name I was told repeatedly and still cannot remember who is also Pakistani and living in Denmark. Pinka is very friendly and kind of crazy. She insisted I go out with them so I did despite my long day and a late start on the night's shenanigans. Anyways, we went to a club called Mambo's and I'm very happy I went out, I had a great time. My Pakistani friends bought me a tequila shot (sorry Prasad) we danced all night, I danced with a British girl named Kate who bit my finger and met some Nigerian guys who loved me, especially after I told them I'm Obama's neighbor (just a slight exaggeration) and that I was so happy to see Black people because Bombay has none and I love them.
Today I slept in as much as I could though the hotel staff woke me early to give me a ticket for my free breakfast which I accepted and went back to sleep. Before I made it up to pick my own breakfast out I bumped into Pinkah who had made up a tray of food for me and was bringing it to me. I ate with her then went back to bed for a little. When I woke, finally somewhat refreshed I went to the beach where I took some pictures. Some rain came in so I took shelter in a very nearby bar on the beach. I befriended a worker their named Nike (no long e sound) who got me a beer and informed me that he was a masseuse and would give me a massage for a good price. As I drank my beer three Indian women came up and started showing me some Goan jewelry. I bought quite a few as gifts (get excited ladies) and did my best to haggle them down (though I think I still got a little ripped off). I took a quick cab ride to exchange some travelers checks to pay them and met Boxer, my cab driver. He and I worked out a deal and he's going to take me to Old Goa tomorrow. Anyways I paid the women who, like all Indian hawkers, where very persistent and attempted to sell me even more jewelry as I was paying them. Then Nike gave me an Ayurvedic massage which was fantastic, especially when he cracked my back. As he gave me the massage and later when I went down to the beach to try to peacefully read on the sand and watch the waves I was constantly harassed by other hawkers just like the women who I had bought from. One girl especially would absolutely not leave me alone. She kept telling me that I was her best friend, that if I would just buy one piece of jewelry for 100 rupees she'd leave me alone, that I was breaking her heart, that her auntie will shout at her if she doesn't sell enough. The girl just would not take no for an answer. At one point I told them that if I buy from them I would have no money left and I would have to be a beggar in Goa forever and I started begging, holding out my hands and bringing my hands to my mouth like the beggars do here (they thought this was funny). At another point I started selling my shirt and sandals and anything I could to the girl saying "please, my friend, buy these sandals, 200 rupees. I give you good price. Please just buy one sandal and I will leave you alone I promise. Come on you are breaking my American heart, you make me so sad." It's really been the most disappointing part of the trip so far, not being able to get two seconds of peace on the beach without a hawker trying to sell to me. Literally their tactic is to harass you until you basically pay them to leave, which I haven't done yet because I don't trust that they will. I suppose it's worse now because it's monsoon and fewer people are here, but still. Hopefully it will get better tomorrow when it's not the weekend.
The Beach Was Still Beautiful
The other thing I got to do today was something I've been dying to do since I got here. Play cricket! Right next to my room basically their is an open space that a bunch of kids from the nearby village use to play cricket on. They play with one beaten up old bat, another smaller, equally second-hand, kid's sized bat, and a piece of wood from a fence or something, as well as old tennis balls and sticks as wickets. Anyways it was very fun to play with them. We played for a while, then went to have lunch then played more after lunch. All of them where very helpful teaching me the game and had good English. One of them, Ganesh, was especially helpful (in his way) overloading me with instruction after each pitch whether I was fielding or batting or bowling (pitching). Eventually I started calling him coach and bowing to him calling him my cricket guru. Another boy had a nasty looking open wound on his foot so I cleaned it for him and gave him a bandage. Throughout the many games we played my name basically became "hello" because that's what they always said to get my attention. Regardless Cricket is easily now my favorite international sport. It's interesting, it's different, and it's got all the passion and intensity of Soccer without any of the flopping and whining.
The Kids Playing Cricket
Eventually they wanted to play a game for money, they said each of them was giving in 10 rupees and I had to give in 20. My team bowled first and went down 45-0. We were on the way to winning a boy named Jesh and I scored about 34 runs together. Then a boy caught a line drive I hit and I was out. We were still on our way to winning when another boy asked to bat and got out which I guess ended the game. I can't be certain that they weren't more or less scamming me, but I asked for a double-or-nothing rematch in which I earned no runs and we lost again. Anyways, I can't complain seeing as how 40 rupees is less than a dollar.
Some Other Children and the Banya Tree
As I was filming them playing cricket Jesh insisted I come to take pictures of his chickens (though he asked by saying, no joke, "would you like to take a picture of my cock?") and white pigeons so they took me into their village, which is right next to the hotel. The trip to see the birds turned into a full blown tour. Each boy wanted to show me his house and everyone smiled at me as I walked around. It was very surreal and surprisingly not every house was a tiny shack (though most were), some where actual legit buildings, many, shacks and buildings alike, had satellites and TVs and dvd players. One boy brought me in his house, sat me in a chair and tried to get me to watch TV with them for five minutes but their cable was out as well. The village also had a pretty decently sized Hanuman temple which they showed me but I did not go into.
Jesh's Birds
Obviously it was slightly depressing to see their very poor living conditions but on the other hand it isn't as bad as the slums I saw in Bombay and they live right on the beach in Goa. They may not have lots of money or nice homes but they are very happy. I mean who wouldn't be living in such a beautiful place and playing cricket every day.
Tito's
After dinner I headed back to the hotel where I met a girl named Pinka, a Pakistani girl from Denmark who had been in Pakistan with her mom and came here for vacation with her friend, a guy who's name I was told repeatedly and still cannot remember who is also Pakistani and living in Denmark. Pinka is very friendly and kind of crazy. She insisted I go out with them so I did despite my long day and a late start on the night's shenanigans. Anyways, we went to a club called Mambo's and I'm very happy I went out, I had a great time. My Pakistani friends bought me a tequila shot (sorry Prasad) we danced all night, I danced with a British girl named Kate who bit my finger and met some Nigerian guys who loved me, especially after I told them I'm Obama's neighbor (just a slight exaggeration) and that I was so happy to see Black people because Bombay has none and I love them.
Today I slept in as much as I could though the hotel staff woke me early to give me a ticket for my free breakfast which I accepted and went back to sleep. Before I made it up to pick my own breakfast out I bumped into Pinkah who had made up a tray of food for me and was bringing it to me. I ate with her then went back to bed for a little. When I woke, finally somewhat refreshed I went to the beach where I took some pictures. Some rain came in so I took shelter in a very nearby bar on the beach. I befriended a worker their named Nike (no long e sound) who got me a beer and informed me that he was a masseuse and would give me a massage for a good price. As I drank my beer three Indian women came up and started showing me some Goan jewelry. I bought quite a few as gifts (get excited ladies) and did my best to haggle them down (though I think I still got a little ripped off). I took a quick cab ride to exchange some travelers checks to pay them and met Boxer, my cab driver. He and I worked out a deal and he's going to take me to Old Goa tomorrow. Anyways I paid the women who, like all Indian hawkers, where very persistent and attempted to sell me even more jewelry as I was paying them. Then Nike gave me an Ayurvedic massage which was fantastic, especially when he cracked my back. As he gave me the massage and later when I went down to the beach to try to peacefully read on the sand and watch the waves I was constantly harassed by other hawkers just like the women who I had bought from. One girl especially would absolutely not leave me alone. She kept telling me that I was her best friend, that if I would just buy one piece of jewelry for 100 rupees she'd leave me alone, that I was breaking her heart, that her auntie will shout at her if she doesn't sell enough. The girl just would not take no for an answer. At one point I told them that if I buy from them I would have no money left and I would have to be a beggar in Goa forever and I started begging, holding out my hands and bringing my hands to my mouth like the beggars do here (they thought this was funny). At another point I started selling my shirt and sandals and anything I could to the girl saying "please, my friend, buy these sandals, 200 rupees. I give you good price. Please just buy one sandal and I will leave you alone I promise. Come on you are breaking my American heart, you make me so sad." It's really been the most disappointing part of the trip so far, not being able to get two seconds of peace on the beach without a hawker trying to sell to me. Literally their tactic is to harass you until you basically pay them to leave, which I haven't done yet because I don't trust that they will. I suppose it's worse now because it's monsoon and fewer people are here, but still. Hopefully it will get better tomorrow when it's not the weekend.
The Beach Was Still Beautiful
The other thing I got to do today was something I've been dying to do since I got here. Play cricket! Right next to my room basically their is an open space that a bunch of kids from the nearby village use to play cricket on. They play with one beaten up old bat, another smaller, equally second-hand, kid's sized bat, and a piece of wood from a fence or something, as well as old tennis balls and sticks as wickets. Anyways it was very fun to play with them. We played for a while, then went to have lunch then played more after lunch. All of them where very helpful teaching me the game and had good English. One of them, Ganesh, was especially helpful (in his way) overloading me with instruction after each pitch whether I was fielding or batting or bowling (pitching). Eventually I started calling him coach and bowing to him calling him my cricket guru. Another boy had a nasty looking open wound on his foot so I cleaned it for him and gave him a bandage. Throughout the many games we played my name basically became "hello" because that's what they always said to get my attention. Regardless Cricket is easily now my favorite international sport. It's interesting, it's different, and it's got all the passion and intensity of Soccer without any of the flopping and whining.
The Kids Playing Cricket
Eventually they wanted to play a game for money, they said each of them was giving in 10 rupees and I had to give in 20. My team bowled first and went down 45-0. We were on the way to winning a boy named Jesh and I scored about 34 runs together. Then a boy caught a line drive I hit and I was out. We were still on our way to winning when another boy asked to bat and got out which I guess ended the game. I can't be certain that they weren't more or less scamming me, but I asked for a double-or-nothing rematch in which I earned no runs and we lost again. Anyways, I can't complain seeing as how 40 rupees is less than a dollar.
Some Other Children and the Banya Tree
As I was filming them playing cricket Jesh insisted I come to take pictures of his chickens (though he asked by saying, no joke, "would you like to take a picture of my cock?") and white pigeons so they took me into their village, which is right next to the hotel. The trip to see the birds turned into a full blown tour. Each boy wanted to show me his house and everyone smiled at me as I walked around. It was very surreal and surprisingly not every house was a tiny shack (though most were), some where actual legit buildings, many, shacks and buildings alike, had satellites and TVs and dvd players. One boy brought me in his house, sat me in a chair and tried to get me to watch TV with them for five minutes but their cable was out as well. The village also had a pretty decently sized Hanuman temple which they showed me but I did not go into.
Jesh's Birds
Obviously it was slightly depressing to see their very poor living conditions but on the other hand it isn't as bad as the slums I saw in Bombay and they live right on the beach in Goa. They may not have lots of money or nice homes but they are very happy. I mean who wouldn't be living in such a beautiful place and playing cricket every day.
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