San Jose . . . what's that sucking noise

I've worked long and hard to find something that I like about San Jose. The secret to liking a town, any town in my mind - is having a good experience there. In time even LA worked itself into my good graces. You see, I finally had a good experience there - met a cute girl there back in the day, good times. Suddenly, it wasn't such a big deal anymore - LA and I were cool.

San Jose has had 100 chances, and alas it seems to have botched them all to date. I'm not a fan.

So, when presented with my first week back, being completely dazed from a complete world flip of time zone, naturally I had to go South for the remainder of the week. Boo! Yes, yes, I knew it was on the calendar for months but really it's inhuman. Now, many people make this commute, and do so with a smile on their face - content in all that is being in the car from bright and cold in the morning. I'm not one of you yet, and maybe I'll be lucky to grow into that . . . . but . . . . . .

How to describe - hours of meetings in the caverns of the convention center - giant visages of my coworkers speaking back to me from great screens presented leaning back toward me as if dwarfing me with their might and posture was more important than any presentation they are making. This goes on for 3 days - some presentations good, some banal, some send out a radiation of stupid so profound I can't help but feel the heat of them slow baking the stupid into me.

But it's nothing a great weekend can't solve, and it has. I have to acknowledge that C's had a profound effect on me. I've been invaded by a desire to clean, organize, and complete lists. It's weird, I don't remember when I stopped being entertained by a disorganized and just in time sort of life - where the carpet's dirty unless company's coming - but suddenly that won't make me happy anymore. I'll summarize, C's made me cleaner, thanks C.

I went back to the pool today. It's kinda fun, I wait outside for rec swim with about 15 Chinese kids and their grandmas. They're writing on the sidewalk with chalk, speaking English while grandma chides them in Cantonese for not getting up when it's time to go in. It's 4 dollars - a sum I'm amazed to find anything costing these days, especially connected to fun and exercise. I gear up, goggles, snorkel, shorts - good. Yes a snorkel - you see I know how to swim - I just need to get comfy in the water, doing water things, breathing under water and treading it are high on the list.



It was a lot of fun really, dipping my head in and trying hard to slow down my breathing once the fear takes over. Adrenaline is an amazing thing - and so I relax into it and float about swimming from time to time to make sure that the lifeguards don't mistake me for needing their assistance. I feel better already, it almost kept me happy enough to ignore that i had to use a spare jacket as a towel after I failed to include A TOWEL.

Onto next week - the return of the code.

Lesson 1: Elephants don't have shock absorbers

Pachyderms as a mode of transit: So you want to use the common Thai elephant to get over a hill do you. Please note that each step of the elephant dangles you precariously toward either of its sides in alternating fashion. Your conveyance, depending on bathing frequency may produce odor or stop to eat at a moment's notice. Other odd hobbies include elephant soccer, painting, and dart throwing (yes we saw all of these). Your mileage may vary.

So Thailand. We're in Chiang Mai now. For those of you without a working knowledge of Siam other than that really important spot in Risk - it's in the upper left hand corner of Thailand, near Burma and Laos. Truly a very cool place though, higher in the mountains than Bangkok it's peaceful monks and happy city dwellers make this a very chill place. Today and elephant show (some of the paintings were actually quite good . . . for an elephant) and tomorrow a Thai cooking course.

I'll backtrack. Phuket was beautiful, but something was missing. It was another white sandy beach but somehow the character we so often seek was missing. We ended up eating at the same place next door over and over, lethargic from the sapping heat and humidity. It was to no help that C and I alternated nights of poor sleep - one too many days at the beach I suppose. It's not fair to criticize such a lovely beach, but experiences are what they are - and for some reason we really weren't into it. C'est la vie . . .

So a couple of flights later - here we are in pretty little Chiang Mai. I noted in the book that the Thais really love their King. They have to, it's the law. Criticizing the King - what does that win you Bob - Why it's a Seven Year Prison Sentence. Wow, I'd like the King too. We lucked out at our already ultra modern and hip hotel - they ran out of regular rooms so upgraded us to a suite. 4 rooms is more than we deserve, but we'll take it - along with the orange box of picked peeled fruits (kumquat relatives yesterday - sweet rice in banana leaves today) that arrives daily. Wandering the street markets and eating pad thai cooked in front of us. Truly hard to beat.

So I'm off to be a culinary master tomorrow. No more travelling by elephant I think. For as my grey hairy friend conquered the hill with aplomb. Hanging over his brow as he cautiously trundled down a hill lined with the dung of his immediate predecessors leads one to enjoy but not need to repeat the experience.

I should note that I will be home shortly. The 1st of the month as it were - I'm taking C to the darkest corner of Thailand I can find tomorrow and leaving her to the natives. Really she's staying to teach and work for a non profit aiding Burmese refugees for two weeks in Mae Hong Son (closer to the border and even harder to get to - don't worry they have an airport). I shall hot step back to Chiang Mai - Bangkok - Hong Kong and home - whereupon I'll volunteer my soul again to the great Adobe profit monster. It lives atop the San Jose towers and grows fat upon the intellectual property of us lowly code monkeys. :) In reality, I'm weird and always excited to come back and get back to work.

Time to tilt the glass up in Thailand. I'm making Curry Paste tomorrow.

Asa

The Beauty of Bangkok

It's been a few days since we've left Bangkok. I'm left with a warm happy feeling and not much else, it's difficult to put other than - "Thailand is an easy country to love"

Arriving via Kolkata it's the sudden feeling of being dropped off in a clean and beautiful country. People drive their cars in lanes and wear clean fashionable clothes. The tourist traps are easy and nearly congenial. Hotels have clean comfortable rooms on the whole. The Thais are on the whole a friendly courteous people, who finish nearly all interactions with hands flush in a small bow. C and I were back in civilization at last, we did a little dance.

Bangkok itself is one of the hottest cities on Earth consistency wise. It's about 85 with 80% humidity year round. That means almost tolerable all the time. The best way to brace oneself throughout the day is pulling over at small stalls that have produced sliced fruit in cups. They blend these with ice and a little salt to make a cheap delicous pick me up. The food on the street is delicious to fare all the time - and C and I can eat Thai every day of the week with ease. Temples here are higher and pointier than those in India, with a curiousity of Thai architecture for extraordinarily pointy rooves and steep staircases.

It's really a charming city, one where Westerners can feel very comfortable. Sometimes they're a little too comfortable - as C and I paruse the Patpong night market for shopping deals we're confronted by bar after bar of listless pole dancers all of whom seem very intent on grabbing my or any other fair skinned child of the West's attention. In typical correction of this circumstance C grabs my arm to divert this unwanted attention. This then begins the inevitable questions to her in Thai and now the view externally that I've already found my Thai escort for the evening - apparently Chinese/Thai distinctions aren't clear at a glance. Sigh - the circumstances worth a laugh, there's a shelf life for this behavior in Thailand. Clearly the Thai girls today dress with an agenda, and there's a look in the eye of some of the men seeking them out - but Thailand is on the rise.

Seemingly no longer content to be a backdrop to seediness or even just a cousin of the Siam areas they are rapidly growing, cleaning, building and accelerating their lives. The truth is that Thailand is a lot closer to Hong Kong than India, and it's done well for it's people. I can say that it's people have done well for C and I too, but Thai massage could be misconstrued as a mugging. Mostly elbows and joint pulling, I can't say I recommend it but for the most hearty and knot ridden of us. The concept of relaxation when you've got a pair of elbows in your spine is tricky, I may still be walking funny.

Now we've moved on to Phuket, our second beach of the adventure. White sands and beautiful Thai people are the features of this beach. A massive outnumbering of woefully out of shape white men and women, and roasting temperatures are it's undoings. A beautiful beach for sure, we spend as much time cooling off in the clear beautiful waters as we can. I'm off for another Pineapple ice shake and I'll update you again soon.

Love from Thailand,
A

Goa Goa Gone

There are small slices in the sides of the coconut palm. They ladder up on opposite sides, about an inch deep and about 1 foot apart heading up all the way to the prize, sweet delicious hairy brown coconuts. I watched from our deck as the coconut boy wold climb up each one to make sure none brained me or C later on, this is the life.

Goa is a beautiful slice of beachy jungle touching on the Arabian Sea. Palms jut out over the sand as if pointing their way to the water. Holed up at Ciraran's Camp in an elegent bungalow it was breakfast, sunning, lunch, sunning, shower, shopping, dinner and done on the schedule. Simply marvelous. Warm waves of air pass over me, a drink by my side a slip off my sandals and dip my toes into the sand. Paradise!

Well, I shall have to add a touch of grey to my sublime. The Arabian sea is not so crystal clear, a murkier green blue will do fine, and the beach is of the darker sand variety - hardly worth noting but yours truly got sick. Don't call in the helicopter I'll be fine. A simple sinus infection meant antibiotics from the local chemist (pharmacist) at a price that would make my compatriots gasp (about 3 dollars). However, the down side of pills is less sun, so C soaked up the rays and I nestled under the parasol with a biography of my hero, Alan Greenspan.

Goa is richer than the rest of India. A former Portugese colony, it has an air of their flavor that lingers on. There are less taunts to deprive you of your money, though still some. People have homes by the large and life is a little calmer for C and I. The beach is wonderful and our accomodations are top notch. I add a page to the mental rolodex of beaches that C and I adore, this one alas located shot round the other end of the world from my Chestnut street home - oh well, if you're in India it's worth the Rupees.

And so, with a bow, I leave India. C said it best to me. To paraphrase India is worth the trip, but incredibly challenging to travel in. One may not lower their guard, for it will be exploited. It has beauties and treasures of the past, but it also has problems - large and imposing ones. One can't leave without the feeling that things will be very different soon. Forces of globalization have set in here, and one only takes a short walk on any street to see the 21st century, and then the 19th.

Goodbye India.

So now I imagine the opening sequence to a game I beloved as a youth. 16 bit Super Nintendo console by my side I insert the cartridge and it begins. Street Fighter 2 flashes on my old television, my selection of fighter is upon me - and as I choose a mini plane appears headed for a oddly bent Siamese Country - and the voice of the machine proudly belts out with a gong.

THAILAND!

. . . but we don't burn the monkeys - they're special

For pictures of our trip so far go here . . .

http://picasaweb.google.com/corachan/IndiaPart1?authkey=bHH7XGvNEWM

and for C's parallel blog, though vastly more focused on food :)

http://www.headingwesttogoeast.blogspot.com/

It was with some degree of pride that our guide on the Ganges river told me the various creatures of the Earth that do and do not receive cremation by the river. Men and women yes, children no, pregnant women (no - count under children), priests no(too holy), cows no, and the kicker - monkeys are put in a little box which they sink. As I pondered the meaning of crossing a lake full of boxed up expired monkeys, I had to pause on Varanasi.

It's really a tale of two cities for us. Having left the rankerous confines of Delhi just a day ago, we had made the decision to book a little higher end. For as badly as Delhi scared us, the book said Varanasi was worse, much much worse. (Thunder clap) So in Western desperation we booked two nights stay at the Ramada in Varanasi - a four star hotel charging the outrageous sum of about 2750 Rupees per night, or just under 100 a night - I know not bad.

The flight out was surprisingly comfortable. I've been advised in hindsight that Air India really is the worst airline in the world and all others are seemingly quite clean and normal - this time Spice Jet demonstrated that readily. In the airport departure gate we spotted the prepaid taxi stand for a trip to our hotel. Advised that the rate would be ~250 we discovered a charge of 610. Thinking we could do better on the street with luck, we emerged to discover that was only the fake prepaid taxi stand - the real one was outside. I'm not kidding people, there's a charlatan taxi stand that they put in the airport - that's India for ya folks.

So Varanasi. As we drive through tiny roads of people pumping water, and cows pulling carts of red carrots piled high atop with little school children, we wondered what we were really in for. As we arrive, it's a compound, glittering glass doors and golden lobby, an attendant wearing something I could only describe as a military pompadour so profound I nicknamed him the rooster, it was a glittering mega hotel - in the middle of all this 18th century bedlam.

The ganges is more than a little green. Having been informed that this mighty river was now polluted so badly that it actually retained no (that's zero) oxygen content and had a fecal coliform count 500 times the acceptable level, I wasn't about to bathe. However a row boat ride by our prostheltizing guide was quite nice. Then he took us to a crappy shop. Sigh - there's really no end to the ATM treatment - we returned to our glittery and quite empty palace.

Having now departed the cow belt we've landed in sunny Goa. What a change of pace, quickly from sweaters, Hindi, and cows we descend to Portugese, beaches, and 85 degree paradise. Goa is a former Portugese colony South of Mumbai. Picture coconut palms, sand, the Arabian sea, and me and C lapping up some rays. It's vacation from the vacation time. I left our room this morning to find a tiny plastic crab outside the door - how cute I remark - and then he runs away. That's awesome, he was so cool! So I ate one of his friends for dinner to celebrate - tasty.

The Delhi Dilemma

When asked how my holiday in Delhi is going I have to provide a carefully crafted answer. You see, unlike the sweet ease of say, a trip to a Caribbean island - relaxation isn't the first thing that comes to mind. Far from it, Delhi is a truly rude awakening to the world that lies outside of suburban lawns and trips to Noah's bagels. I'll paint a picture.

Imagine if you will a world where everything is built and cared for exactly once. Created it now degrades without it's keeper under a pile of dust, dirt, and unwholesome humanity. The streets are crumble at their curbs, bathed in people sitting overcampfires a few feet away from their own waste. Hanging over them by mere feet a wall protecting the average working citizen's watched home. Locked behind gates they engineer their own security, fore the environment gives them none. If poverty were a cold cold winter, each house heats itself in a barren frozen land. The smells and sights can be appalling.

For C and I Delhi has been a growing experience. You see, for the colors of our respective skins, we are strangers. No, really we are opportunities for each and everyone here. There is a perfect storm of indigence and tourism here that leads to a near frenzied attack upon us here. Train stations children come every 30 seconds and tap you on the knee, motioning to their mouths for food from your pocket. Drivers hustle you for 10 times the normal fare to every location, hotel clerks charge as much as they can for dinner, laundry, and paltry services - all in the name of money.

This is not without humor of course. I've come to accept my position seen at the ATM of Delhi's denizens - I tip the man who minds the shoes at the mosque, tipping again the man who points the direction to the bathroom, to tip again the person who's picture I took with a cow - after all it's his cow isn't it. This place hardens one a bit, but I must admit that comfort comes even here - humming a tune as my auto rickshaw pilot steers his way into horn blaring traffic becomes a daily comical event. The presence of death on the roads becomes like passing a funny mask on a merry go round.

One can see opportunity for this land - the Taj Mahal truly is a standing pillar of majesty through time. Truly an amazing work to behold, the single largest testament to love of human work. My guide book says, "one can find how much India has to offer, if one is willing to overlook the taunts and assaults of the deceptors". The book's salesmanship aside, India is a mixed bag - a heritage beyond belief, true beauty and hideous ugliness - decadence and true filth. I turn no blind eye to it.

Mr Toad's Wild Ride

Disneyland used to, and maybe still does, have a ride called Mr Toad's Wild Ride. I find when I get nostalgic, I don't have to look very far to find the same moment all over again. An example . . .

As C and I strolled into the airport in Hong Kong we were immediately impressed by it's beauty and architectural acumen. Much like other things in that wonderous city the airport is a testament to modern engineering. Built on it's own island, it encompasses the world's largest room, an entire shopping mall, and a massive bridge to get there. We merrily strolled to our gate, only to be quickly plucked from our smiley state by India Airlines. Our flight was delayed, hardly the appropriate word, I'd have used postponed, for ten hours!

So I can now report on nearly every store in the Hong Kong shopping complex and where the fine dining may be found. We tried on clothes, we toured the history of the airport, we ate Krispy Kreme ( they have Mandarin orange donuts - for Chine get it ). Through it all we maintained our cool though, good thing because the flight was still delayed resulting in a wait from around 1 in the afternoon to 2:30 in the morning before we finally boarded Air India.

Oh Air India, how do I describe thee, let me count the ways. As soon as your board the plane you're confonted by a sort of spicy bathroom smell. The plane as a whole appears to have been plcuked from one of my childhood flights in the late eighties and rematerialized here as a woeful modern conveyance. As we took off the plane was full of loud whines and grating fans much like my bathroom fan at home on a supercharged scale. This did help drown out the dozen babies or so, but not really. Not to be dissuaded from their jobs, Air India decided to run this midnight run as the afternoon flight it had missed. So whilst trying desperately to recoop some of the lost hours of sleep C and I didn't have, they served a meal, played a badly tracked VCR tape ( three actually), and the captain announced various things you could see out the window. All the the lights ON! The final kicker, at the end of the flight, they announced that they were going to spray 'a harmless substance into the air, please don't be alarmed' - they then proceeded to whip through the cabin filling it with a strange spray. It could have been Febreeze or DDT I'll never know, since we're never flying India Air again. Ever, ever, ever.

And so we land in India. Bleary eyed and crazed we hop off the plane not sure wha to expect. Our hotel is waiting to pick us up, but that's really all we know. The facilities quickly expose themselves in a drab little ballet. Lights are hanging by their cords, paint has spattered and facades are misaligned everywhere. I thought perhaps I'd landed in an abandoned paint factory in Oakland instead. As we waited for our bags we concluded that the airport was indeed truly shabby, but wondered what awaited us outside. Our name was on a card at the disembark and away we go. I'll endeavour to convey the speed we experienced this at too.

Out the door. The fog is so think and dense it smells like smoke. The sun hasn't risen yet but there's a crowd of people so thick outside the airport we have to wind our way through. People are sleeping on the street, some our bandaged, some have no shoes. We get to the car, it's in a rocky dirt patch. The car takes off, the road is lumpy and we're barrleing along. Indian traffic, oh how to I give India traffic its justice. Hair raising isn't right, panicky isn't right. Our driver would manueveer through any crack or window in the laneless panic that is the streets, mothers and sons running through moving cars, centimeteres from the car in front and the stone wall to your left at full speed. Horns honking constantly, oh we go over the dirt here, and around into oncoming traffic there. Its just beyond anything you're willing to call sanity.

Finally whipped into our hotel, we sleep. Terrified of what might present itself, we awake to calm requests of breakfast - our host is a lovely informed guide as to our plans for the day - and there are even some American friends to help us. The manic ride screeches to a stop and we're off today to enjoy India.