Shop Till You Drop

V and I took a late train back to Delhi last night. We were sorry to go, as we both felt the stress and strain of travelling shed from our shoulders over the past two days and we wish we could make it last. However, we were scheduled to travel back to the city to hang out some more with Jitu and finish some of our site-seeing here. Our train ride was uneventful, we sat next to the door that was 'toilet side', meaning that the toilet for our car was on our end and let me tell you, every time someone walked through our car, or returned from the bathroom we got a breeze of STANK that caused involuntary dry heaving. It was the worst smelling thing since we were forced to sit above the sewer ditch during EUROKIDS day. I mean, come on people, we can't be the ONLY ones to notice the stench. What the fuck?! Anyway, we documented some of our journey (as we were mightily bored) Even V got in to it, though she normally refuses to be on camera.

This morning we went shopping around where our hotel is at some of the government state shops. These are shops owned by the different states of India and where they sell the products exclusive to their state. It's great to shop at these places because the wares they sell are all by artisan villagers (mostly poor women) who are practicing their traditional art and therefore sustaining their craft for future generations. Plus, all of the items are exclusive and individual, not mass produced, so it's really a great thing.

Anyway, without giving too much away, let me just say I dropped a lot of money today, mostly for gifts. The fabric alone is amazing, hand woven silks of every kind and color, art, jewelry, etc., really great stuff. I'm not going to say what I got specifically, because you're just going to have to wait till you see me to get yours.

Vidhu and I have decided that we're just too damn fat and if we continue to eat this much they're going to have to roll us onto the plane and probably they'll demand we purchase another ticket to fit our big fat asses. Therefore starting today Vidhu and I are limiting our India food to one meal a day and the other two we're eating only toast. It's a sad state of affairs, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Tomorrow we're going to go to a shop that makes perfume and make-up to your exact specifications. So it's one-of-a-kind make up, lotion, perfume, etc., and I'm sooo excited to go there! Also, we're going to try to do a little site-seeing too as we've heard there are one or two interesting old temples. Yeah, whatever. So they've got some buildings that are over a thousand years old. But do the temples sell perfume?!? No. I don't think so.

But actually it should be a lot of fun. Vidhu's folks are arriving in Delhi in two days, and when they do, we'll go traveling with them before heading back to Mumbai. We're also going to try to squeeze in an ayurvedic massage sometime which is based on India folk medicine. Maybe they can massage my fat down a little....hm.

Did I mention before that I got a massage the day I threw up? Well, it was actually part massage, part gynecological examination. Preeya called her massuese to come to the house and give me a massage there and she wanted me totally naked to do it. If I hadn't been feeling so ill I might of refused, but I was too sick to argue. It actually did feel pretty good though...

Himalayas

Today V and I ate a tasty American breakfast, drank coffee as we watched people cross a footbridge over the Ganga, and relaxed. Then we hiked 8 miles into the foothills of the Himalayas and visited an ashram called Phool Chatti Ashram. We sat in quiet solidude over the river and enjoyed the views the Ashram afforded us. We ran into Steven again, as this was where he was staying. He invited us to stay for lunch, and we got to eat with the swami, who, Vidhu observed, "looks like one of Santa's elves." Afterwards the three of us embarked on another hike into the forrest (Steven being the third, not the swami), and the day and hike were just beautiful. The sun was shining and we were all alone. I finally feel like I'm relaxing!!! Ahh.
Afterwards we trekked down to the Ganga and blessed ourselves by touching the holy water. Vidhu taught me a little prayer, which we sung as we annointed our foreheads. Then we giggled. It was a lot of fun, and I'm glad that I am here with Vidhu. We watched the sun set over the village as we ate fresh yogurt with fruit and afterwards we retired to our room to read. I would love to stay longer here, but we're taking a train back to Delhi tomorrow, so that we can go on to Ashra and visit the Taj Mahal. But besides the damn hippies, I liked Rishikesh a lot.

Train to Rishikesh and Spiritual Enlightenment A La Anne

So we got up at 5am this morning to get to the New Delhi train station to take a train to Rishikesh. Many people may remember that Rishikesh was the place the Beattles visited an ashram in the 60s known as the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's ashram. Rishikesh is a holy city for Hindus located in the foothills of the Himalayas in northern India. It's majestic and for the first time during our trip, V and I can breathe in clean mountain air. The town rests on the banks of the Ganga river (known in the west as the Ganges River), and is considered the holiest of rivers and also a Hindu diety. Everyone is here to gain enlightenment, whether they be devot Hindu pilgrims or Western-hippy-new-age-yoga tourists. I feel like I'm back in Venice beach. For folks who are familiar with Santa Cruz, this is where Santa Cruzites vacation. All the Americans have dreadlocks and wear blankets and I saw one pasty white guy walking around in a Gandi-esque wrap with no shoes and nodding rather silly at passerbys. Peace man.

So those of you who know me well, or even a little, are realizing the huge cosmic irony of me finding myself here. After having worked the last few months on a documentary about religion, I almost think perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something. If so, it should speak up, because right now all I feel is a mild case of amusement while people watching.

And I have to tell you about this American we sat next to on the train ride here. His name is Steven Shupe, and he's been living abroad for 17 years. In his former life he was a lawyer and a water management specialist. At 6'7'', he really stood out. We had a long discussion about his metaphysical perspective and I have to admit, I understood very little of what he said. I gather from what he was saying that my lack of understanding and "truth" had something to do with my having lived among other humans and 'not knowing myself'. In order to gain true enlightenment, one must shed all the outside layers of who we 'think we are'. But I like my layers. In the end, he turned out to be a really nice guy and helped us find a suitable hotel with river view (for 6 bucks a night, not to mention he recommended things for us to see/do while there.) So it was good that we met this particular crazy American even when he asked us if we had boyfriends and started to give off that desperate vibe men sometimes give off. Vidhu explained to me that he had been alone for so long that he was lonely....makes sense, I guess even the enlightened get horney.
It was afternoon when we arrived, so we checked in to our hotel, ate some lunch and did some shopping. After the sun set behind the mountains, we listened to spread out over the river. We found a coffee shop called the German Bakery (it was indeed German, the cinnamon rolls were as dry as croutons) and watched the monkeys jump from rooftops to the footbridge. We read books and bought more at a local bookstore. Then we ate dinner as we rested on colorful mats and drank ginger lemon honey tea. Today was a great day. Shopping is truely the way to inner peace. The picture below is of a cow that followed me around, trying to nuzzle up against my hand as I looked at Jewelry. I call him Bob. Or she. Those cows are so cute.

Delhi

Today was a really fun day. Delhi is less crowded, more green than Mumbai. The air is still as polluted and it's a big city, but it was comfortable in the 70s and we finally had a tour guide to show us around! Vidhu went to USC with a fellow Indian by the name of Jitu, who is now a professor at the University of Dehli.
She took us to visit the historic site Qutab Minar (pictured above) and after visiting this impressive site with stones from Hindu and Muslim temples, we travelled to a local market to go shopping. It was an arts and crafts market, full of great stuff and surprisingly expensive. However with the number of kitschy shops here where all the items are massed produced and completely purchasable in the USA, it was a welcome change. Since it was Christmas, we finished the day by buying a Plum Pudding, which V and I ate late at night with some Chai Tea. It was one of the first really wonderful days in India that I've experienced, and besides a little residual nausea, I finally begin to feel excited about what lays ahead on our trip. It takes so long to gain your momentum in a new country, and after a week in India, I'm just now getting to the point where I can start to enjoy all of new experiences that are bombarding my senses. I look forward to the next couple of days.

Christmas in India

Priya's mehndi applier came over and applied mehndi to V and my hands, also my feet and upper arm. The process took about 1 1/2 per person (45 minutes per hand) and after it dried, we applied a sticky mix of lemon juice and sugar to the mehndi to bring out the color. The mehndi smelled like the cloves that were added to the base, though after it dried, it left our hands smelling of something was rotting. In order to allow the color to develop as much as possibe, we were told to sleep with the crusty mehndi dried on our hands. It was difficult to do anything because it flaked off. We woke up with the bed covered in dirt. But the results were worth it all:

So after my day in bed, Lalit purchased Vidhu and I tickets to fly to Delhi. Being the host-with-the-most, he generously paid for them himself, much to our horror. The tickets were cheap by American standards (50 bucks one way for a three hour flight) yet nevertheless, extremely gracious. We flew with Kingfisher Airlines, one of the nicest airlines I've flown. They handed out Kingfisher Stewardess barbies to all the little girls on the plane (Christmas present since we flew on Christmas day) I was really jealous. One funny note, here, the passport has the same status as a driver's license does in the US. We have to show it to get SIM cards for our cell phone, we need our passports to check in to hotels. We need our passports to purchase train tickets. Yet we went through the entire airport experience without showing our passports ONCE. How funny is that?

Once in Delhi, we checked in to a guest house in the heart of New Delhi, which is owned by a distant relative of V. The hotel is located in New Delhi, in the heart of the shopping district. The first thing we noticed about Delhi is that it is less crowded and much older than Mumbai...also a lot colder, as it is located in the middle of the country, away from the coastline. We got a lot more attention in Delhi, and the train station there is chaotic and confusing.

This is a picture from the rooftop of the Preem Sagar Guesthouse where we stayed in Delhi.

Bollywood

Today V went to interview a Bollywood film Producer in Juhu. This very nice older gentleman talked to us about his films, how he got started and the hayday of Indian Cinema. He introduced us to the writer on his current film and invited us to visit his film shoot in NY in April. We had a good time chatting with him, and he told us about his next project, a Bollywood version of Romeo and Juliet. I asked him what made his version particularly Bollywoodish and he responded, "well, of course in my movie they won't die." I laughed my ass off.

Later that night, V and I ate some guava. V ate the skin. I asked her if it was okay to eat the skin, and she said, "I don't know, but I'm eating it." I thought, well if she can do it, so can I. And it tasted great. We had a big spicy dinner, and then later that night, the puking began. Oh, Vidhu didn't get sick. Vidhu never gets sick. She just eats what she wants while everyone comments on the weak consitution of the American stomach. She doesn't count of course, because she's an Indian at heart. Apparently she's an Indian at heart and in stomach.

One note on my illness: The family would check on my condition every hour of so...and when they did, the entire family entered my room, sat on the bed, felt my forehead. Preeya went so far as to administer 'touch therapy'. Actually quite nice. They insisted a Doctor be called to the house. The nice elderly gentleman that arrived was their family doctor, a man who had been administering medical help to the family for over 13 years. The only problem was that he's now in renal failure and was sicker than I was. I felt guilty that he made the trip out for me, but these people would stop at nothing to make sure I was taken care of.

While sick, I was forced to drink a variety of drinks/medicines that they themselves take when sick. For example: coffee, tea, fennel seeds. I, of course, threw everything up. I wanted water, which they didn't want me to drink much of (as they thought I would just throw it up) and sprite (which they thought was bad for my stomach as it is carbonated). Of course I became dehydrated, and so when the doctor asked if I had 'wet mushys" (which is Hindi for diarreha - I had fun trying to figure that one out.) or whether I was able to 'pass urine' I told them no. I heard much discussion that day about my inability to "pass urine" and everyone, including some strangers who happened to call the house that day learned of the inner workings of my urinary system. The doctor decided my lack of peeing was a serious problem, so they decided that I needed to go to the hospital, which I refused to do, and much arguing ensued. If not for the presence of Vidhu, I probably would have ended up there, but she came to my rescue, got me crackers to eat and sprite to drink and told them to let me just sleep it off. That lead of course to my recovery, though Lalit laughed for days that the threat of the hospital was enough to cause my immediate recovery.

The whole night and next day I spent in bed. So for tomorrow's blog forgetaboutit.

Eurokids

Today was EUROKIDS SPORTS DAY!!! Preeya, V's cousin, owns a preschool center called Eurokids. And today was their special Sports day to highlight how well the children were doing and how they incorporate sports into their learning. So we accompanied Lalit (her husband) and her 2 children Ananya and Anjolie and spent the day with around 200 adults (parents and grandparents) and 80 kids. It was a whirlwind of 4 year olds, dressed in red, parading around banners, running pseudo-races to 'win' hugs, and a tiny little old lady who would yell out in her high pitched Indian dialect "ready, set, 123GO!". The whole experience was surreal. Lalit watched over us all, making sure we had drinks, were comfortable and enjoying ourselves. Because V and I do so much sitting, I got up and walked around a bit, taking pictures, and generally trying to understand what was going on. There was also a cricket game taking place at the sportscenter, and that interested me too. But as soon as I got up, Lalit tried to get me to sit down again. After a while, he was very adament that V and I sit down. He wouldn't take no for an answer, so he lead us to a section of seats and told us, "sit, sit down, relax, relax!" Vidhu and I took a seat and instantly noticed that we seemed to have been seated in a big pile of shit. I asked V, "Dear God, what is that smell?" And V just shook her head, unable to speak over the fumes, which were choking her. We then realized that there was perfectly reasonable explaination for why no one else was seated in that area, and that, in fact, the chairs must be over a large septic tank, and really, who wants to smell like poo? Lalit looked over and smiled happy that we were finally content, when in fact, we were fighting to breath over the stench. When we could no longer stand the pain, we got up again, and hastily retreated. As soon as Lalit noticed this, he insisted that we sit down again, though this time to our relief, he pointed out a new spot. The new seats didn't smell like shit anymore, but the table in front of us was covered with baby barf, that was now fermenting in the sun. Oh well, it was better than the poo.

Priya's two daughters are Ananja and Anjolie - smart girls - just like their mom. It was interesting to hear them talk about how they hate traveling or leaving India - and watching them sing along to all their favorite Bollywood songs. Ananja wants to be a Bollywood star when she grows up, Anjolie talked about how impractical it is to study art - she thinks that only a technical degree like science or math makes any sense. Very different than American kids, though their patriotism was similar...it was interesting to compare them.

Bandara

Yesterday V and I went to Bandara to go shopping - we took a local train, 2nd class, from where we were staying with Swapan in Chandivali (a 4 stop - 20 minute trip). This was my first experience with beggars (they were frequently seen at all street corners, but besides begging at your window, sometimes knocking once or twice they left us alone). However the train station was a crowded place, and there were a lot of people asking for money. One boy in particular wouldn't leave me alone, I gave him a 2 rupee coin, but he wasn't satisfied, so he stood in front of me tapping me intermittently on the arm and then on the chest, specifically my boob. That got kind of tiring after twenty or thirty minutes, but since we were waiting in line to buy our tickets, there was nothing to be done. Anyway, we purchased 2 round trip tickets, and made our way to the segregated train. Women have three cars per train (the first, last and middle cars), while the men take up the rest. We weren't sure why such an old-fashioned custom persisted until we started to board the train. The rush of people pushing to get on and off swept us up in its path and we were packed like sardines into the car, elbows, purses and feet jabbing everywhere. We were thankful then for being surrounded merely by women and didn't have to worry about getting our asses pinched as well.
After taking the train, V and I were exhausted. But we managed to perk up when we came across an air-conditioned MALL. We each purchased a salwar kameez, which is the everyday wear of most Indian women. It consists of a long shirt (with or without sleeves) which is the salwar, and baggy pants (called kameez), they also include a scarf which is worn backwards with the ends hanging down the back. They have other types of pants called churida, which are tight at the ankles, and sometimes they wear their salwar with a western type pants.

On the way home, we accidently boarded a first class car of the train. The difference in price was only a couple of rupees, and we figured it was no big deal. However, the train was boarded by female ticket controllers who informed us that not only were we in first class, but our tickets were only one way - not round trip like we thought we had purchased - so we got charged 25 U.S. bucks for our mistake. No amount of reasoning mattered and the women acted like it was so obvious that we had purchased one-way tickets, when in fact, nothing could be further from the truth - the ticket was a jumble of hindi characters and a smatter of english letters typed in such a small font that only Spiderman with his spidey senses could make out what the damn thing said. Vidhu tried reasoning with the women but that only caused a scene. Anyway, we resolved never to ride in another local train. Luckily, we laughed it off and whatever - 25 bucks probably allows the train to run for another year, so I like to think we did something good for the city of Mumbai.
After shopping V decided to get in touch with her cousin Priya who lives in Mumbai and who she hasn't seen in 25 years.

The Gateway to India

So after spending a rough day of shopping inside an air-conditioned mall, we decided it was time to get our 'feet wet' in the 'real' Mumbai, so today we hired a rickshaw to take us across town to an area along the water known as Colaba. There we were hoping to find some interesting colonial architecture, the Gateway to India, and various other scenic photo-ops. We were clever, and had already discovered that the Rickshaws won't take you all the way into the city (they're not allowed as they are crazy and don't follow any street rules). So we hoped into a taxi around 9am and off we went!

Three hours of exhaust fumes from the cars of 1 billion commuters spewing into our shrivelling lungs landed us in Colaba. We were hot, tired, hungry and had no idea where to go. The upside was the air felt less polluted, there was a breeze blowing off the ocean, the architecture was lovely and after eating in an air-conditioned restaurant, we felt human enough to venture out on the streets again.

We went and looked at the Gateway to India, a gigant structure built in 1913. Vidhu and I got blessed by a holyman (who gave us orange bindis on our foreheads) and because I chose to wear the Salwar Kameez, some guy came up to me and asked if I would let his friend take a picture of us. I guess I made a bit of a spectical with my bindi, hindi garb and waspy white skin. Here's a picture of the building.

After our picture taking extraveganza, we crossed the street to the Taj Palace, a very
expensive hotel, and looked around at the shops inside, which included me drooling as I stood outside a Luis Vuitton store. Sigh.

The lovely doormen called us an air-conditioned taxi for our 3 hour ride home, and what we got what a very nice English-speaking gentleman who was 87 years old and drove like a bat out of hell. He said Mumbai had changed a lot since 1945, when he first moved here, with so many more people and overall the economy had improved.

That evening we went to visit Vidhu's cousin (of sorts) who she hadn't seen in 25 years. The Mittal family. When we arrived, it was like being back in the US - they are VERY well off. They own a three bedroom apartment in a ritzy part of town (not big but beautifully furnished), and because labor is so cheap here, they have a cook, 3 cars and 3 drivers, a domestic helper (that's the person who brings us tea and water throughout the evening and gets us stuff out of the fridge), a housekeeper, and various other people who come in and out of the house at all hours (a couple of teachers, a doctor, a masseuse, a mendehi applier, a personal trainer, a beautician...those where some of the people we got to know in our time there).

This family is funny, loving, generous and very outgoing. They insisted we get our luggage and stay with them as long as we like. Since we didn't want to put out our generous host Swapan (who we met through couchsurfing.com), we readily agreed. So back into a car we hopped and after 3 hours (2 hours there and 1 hour back) we settled in to a huge Indian meal and mapped out our plans for the next few days.

Arrival

Vidhu and I got off the plane yesterday around midnight and finally collapsed into bed around 3am. It was a pretty uneventful flight; highlights included some slight turbulance, dirty toilets and the rudest flight attendents I've ever encountered. On the upside I slept almost the whole way, which means I missed most of their harrassing. The meals were good and plentiful and I had Vidhu there to entertain me.

We're staying at the Midlands hotel in Santa Cruz (a very fitting place to stay as I was born in Santa Cruz and this Santa Cruz is the first city of my trip in India). Anyway, we slept well, enjoyed the western style toilet (whew, that was a relief) and took a cup shower with hot water (luxurious!) After applying deet, I followed up with a little lip gloss and instantly felt like a human again! Lip gloss fixes everything. That's a fact you can take to the bank, I tell you.

After sleeping for 6 hours or so, we decided to walk someplace and get some breakfast. But stepping out into the street, we got caught up in a wave of commuters, early morning workers heading along in a frenzied pace. We couldn't really cross the street due to the never-ending traffic of cars, who were constantly honking and jostling back and forth in the narrow road, almost taking people out in their maneuvers to get around each other. My first impression of India is that people here are tiny. Small. I'm at least a foot and a half taller than everyone else. The streets are teeming with men, very few women, in fact, out walking around. The men stare at me, which is natural, as I am so obviously beautiful. I mean, sure I'm a Westerner, but I think their gazes are really just proof of my immense physical attraction. Actually, I think the fact that we were standing still in this mad stream of people, made us stand out all the more. And the blank looks on our faces probably didn't help.
So after about 10 minutes of standing there, blankly looking around, we headed back to our hotel and had a scrumptious breakfast (bonus, we didn't realize that breakfast was also included in the cost of our rooms...bonus!) We had yummy coffee that surprisingly enough I think is just instant coffee - but it was improved with a ton of creamy milk and sugar. Vidhu and I were both already feeling a little woozy this morning, but now that we've eaten, I think we're both feeling much better.
So now off to explore!

"In the midst of the word he was trying to say
In the midst of his laughter and glee
He had softly and suddenly vanished away
For the snark was a boojum, you see."

Lewis Carroll

An illustration by Henry Holiday from the 19th century. From http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/c/carroll/lewis/snark/ .


Last night V and I made a mad rush to purchase all the rest of the supplies we need for our trip. We went to a Super Target (that place has everything) and bought gifts for the Couchsurfing people we'll be staying with, along with little things such as immodium (diarrhea is a real concern), extra toothbrushes, etc. It was hard deciding what kind of gifts people in India (whom we've never met) would enjoy receiving. We checked out Florida/Mickey Mouse knicknacks which we thought would make appropriate gifts and then noticed that the tee-shirts we had picked out had been made in Pakistan! Probably not the best idea in the world to buy things made by India's arch rival. As we walked around the store and picked up various items, we noticed that almost everything else said "Made In India". Not once were we able to find something that was made in the USA! Ah, cheap labor. So in the end, we resolved ourselves to purchasing baseball caps, be damned that they were made in China. At least the front of it advertised FLORIDA, so at least it was connected somehow.

There's nothing intrinsically wrong with a global economy, right?

4 Days And Counting

Now we're down to the wire. I'm already exhausted from my trip and I haven't even left yet! So much to do and so little time...
I was online yesterday checking out yahoo travels and seeing what people had to say about Mumbai. It was disheartening, because nobody liked it! Matter of fact, according to the folks who have traveled there in the last year, it's the worst place on the planet. Pollution, tons of beggars, horrible traffic, expensive. Wow. Sounds like a lot of fun, doesn't it? Everyone keeps asking me if I'm excited yet. It's strange, because I'm not really excited. At least not today.
Right now, I'm just trying to stay focused and get everything done to be able to leave. I wonder when it's finally going to hit me...

Butterfly Effect

So Vidhu called me and asked me how many baby wipes I bought for our trip - I told her six packets...I mean, I figure that's 3 each per person for 23 days (and that's not including toilet paper, 8 rolls). She didn't think it was enough, so she went out and bought 3 more huge containers. Her reasoning, "I will not have a dirty ass." Apparently Martha got her paranoid talking to her about her own experience in China. But I think her reaction sums up our fears - and hints at the obstacles we'll encounter. Cleanliness, poverty, and an overriding worry of the unknown. Everyone we've spoken to says traveling to India is a life altering experience. It's as if these travels offer a process of change - and let's admit it, not all change is good. And as we ready our bags, and I pack up my life here in Orlando, I realize that the older I get, the harder it is for me to retain that flexibility for change I had in my youth. It's the knowledge of the negative possibilities that scare me. I hate to think that any choices I make in life are based on fear. In order to get the most out of life and new experiences, I'm realizing that perhaps keeping a modicum of optimism and remembering the promise of the process isn't such a bad thing.

Quick Time

Four Folds on her skirt
Four Pleats that she holds under her hand
She outlines the rough bits with her finger
tracing a seam of crooked piping
while she chastises herself about her inertia

but she doesn't move.
Instead
She thinks about this morning
which like all the others
holds a quiet promise of verisimilitude
which reminds her of a nervous tick she can't help

So she switches gears and thinks about yesterday
and a call she received
Something he said evokes a mild feeling of disappointment
she touches the folds in her dress again

Finally, with a sigh, she stands
and treads along the wooden floor in her bare feet
To the closet
where she crisply sorts through wooden hangers
that have glided across the span of this space
too many countless times

something unforgiving
buzzes behind her eyes
And she stops to gaze at a wrinkle on her hand she's never seen
before
She is immobile
Frozen in her thought
she imagines herself as a Polaroid
a square image out of focus
flat and poorly taken

till she notices
the silence that surrounds her
It seems as if
something has shifted, but glancing around
Eveything is exactly
as it always was

what was it, she was trying to recall?
Something in his eyes, voice
The way he looked at her
But he's not the one she was thinking about
And the memory of him seems worn and faded
Just as the voice yesterday was a rerun
watched too many times

And looking down at the folds of her skirt again
the thought finally seeps into her mind
but like all thoughts she turns it over
and finds no absolution in it's birth

So she sits down on the bed again
still half dressed
and folds her thoughts around her.

Fern Ghazal

Moments arranged from drive thru memories
As I look down and among the ferns

I lived once as asphalt kissed the tender soles of my feet
Gladness like glass was lifted from me, down and among the ferns.

Swollen noises float above my head as I strain
Like folded hands, betrayed in webbing that runs down and among the ferns.

Shed from me, shredded paper, bits of confetti
they come from close by, down and among the ferns

Tendrils of water find no resistance
Gushing down and among the ferns

A flutter of my eyes, and the small black bruises turn green
What is crushed down and among the ferns?

It reaches a pungent silence, curled up and dotted
Unmarked, it begins again down and among the ferns.

Chaos and order

Religion mixed with Starbucks
There
a journey down a lonely road
is overshadowed by a vast heaven reaching into obscurity
While angels linger along the wayside

The earmarks of a daily life
Fragmented, crumpled and layered
Those pinpoints of light from your window
Dance without movement
Forming shapes that fade
As night crawls across the room

You’ve picked up articles
Set them to your tasks
Seeded notes and stockpiled
And it seems as if the walls shed too

The heat sweeps by her feet in waves so fast,
it catches the movement at the edge of her eyes

Over her, sprint the shadows of invisible geckos
Tracking wind storms through her imagination
Leaving wispy trails of effervescence like sweat 
against the outside of a glass door

Around another watery bend
And a brick fountain
Glowing in the afternoon neon storm
Whose mirrored surface reflects the bursts of wild forests 
rising like zeniths from the piles of despondent trash
Flung in an urban snarl

And above her, beads cast down as glistening drops 
Between the uniforms of towering silver 
and changing black, gray-swirling whiteness

And this heat
Cloying, soft and plush

She's cored inside out and twisted into waves so tangled
Whitewashed from the backs of worn, tired souls
And mute
And she's drowned by the cicadas who waltz and snap
while something heavy grows.

Getting Ready

So Vidhu and I have learned something about ourselves...namely that neither of us really like to plan anything. So here we are, less than 2 weeks out of our major trip half way across the world and we have just now started to get things in order. Thank god we got our visas at least. We're also trying to use this cool website called couchsurfing.com that allows people to exchange couches, friendship and contributes to world peace (somehow). It's a pretty neat site. It saves you money while traveling, allows you to see a place from an insider's perspective and gives you people to hang out with while you're doing it.
I'm really hoping I can figure out how to post pictures to this site as well, since I'm planning on taking a lot while I'm there.

Dynamics

My slither is the salt bed underneath my skin
Hot pin pricks plucked like arrows from the sky
The birds twitter in the branches of the trees
Side by side they sit, black shadows alive among the leaves

My shadow separates. And I feel nothing
But something's annihilated in the smallest of nighttime acts

Under the rock
Waiting to be over turned
No one hand reaches out first
Afraid of pockmarks and deep things

East West Bound

He had a plan to get home.
It was long overdue.

In the middle of an unfamiliar silence he carried his plans forward, filed alphabetically in his mind under TO DOs,

Until his plans, like a gust of wind, shifted
And he found himself out of order,
in a waiting room

An endless hush gave him time to notice the seams of whiteness where the corners of two walls kissed and ended.

And as time shuttered and flickered beyond the edge of his thoughts

He thought that waiting was like holding his breath.
But threaded to him,
Away from him,
waiting for a doctor,
waiting for him,
waiting on death
waited his love

And time became the unstoppable army

Snap Shot

Cold shadows travel across the faces
An incoming tide
changes pebbles into sand
the marble guards the faded plastic flowers
Half covered in dirt
They shift in permanency as memories die away

Through the stillness of a tunnel well worn,
Footsteps bind us
And I look to see a kite flying high above our heads
It's Connected to a young couple hiding
behind a tower
they wait for a break in the clouds

Under my summer sandals the grass gives way
Your shape grows smaller and smaller, fading into
A dark outline

against an unchanging backdrop
I crest the hill and look back
Seeing the contrast along the edges
The finality of cold stone and a vastness that expands into my heart

Whatever I was thinking
Is carried away on a whisper of wind

Three Headed Man

I can see your thoughts floating around us
You carry three heads upon your shoulders
And you shift your face repeatedly as I watch
I'm stunned by my reflection in your eyes

Do you see something else in me that washes away when you blink?

I can't help wonder
If all that stuff inside of you will implode
tendrils of soft heat parting your lips
Becoming a veil of nothingness

I'm tired
And bored a little
Do what you want
My hands are busy
With something trapped in my mind
if I look away it'll disappear

Anyway...

Isolating Variables

It itched.

Some incessant gnawing – in the silence –
Crawled over his skin under the blanket of night

In response he played a book on tape and filled his mind with steel wool sheep

In sleep she draped her lead cloak over him

Each time her warm breath tickled the hair on the back of his neck
He thought of warm moist soil pressed against his skin

And sleeping, he dreamt of rats
Running from control to cheese
No direction any better than the one before
And this sea of rodents
Carried him along
Till the wall before him dropped

And he heard the familiar melody of soft breathing
and thought of molded clay

Earth, touching his side

Wet and cold

He rolled away and tucked his head to the side
Alone against the edge of the bed