Mcleod Ganj

Buddhist Dogs
So were walking up a road that leads from Mcleod Ganj into the surrounding mountains, in search of the elusive snow that we see above us and heard we could get to in a day hike. As we wind around a bend a very large dog comes bounding towards us from seemingly out of nowhere, with a smile and a wag. I call him ‘bear’ and invite him along for the ride. To my surprise he immediately takes me up on the offer. When we stop, he stops. When we resume, he leads. Ten or fifteen minutes later we reach a fork in the road and he heads up what I would have deemed the wrong way. I try to talk him out of it to no avail, so after him we go. He led us to my ‘field of dreams’ moment below. At this point five more dogs storm full speed at us, barking like…well…wild dogs. Bear puts them in check, and soon we have six dogs in our party. We stick around the field and the monastery next door for about an hour, then took off on the trail with five dogs in toe. For the next 4 hours Mike and I were escorted up the mountain by these guys. Their size, demeanor, politeness and smiles seemed hardly of this world; Buddhist dogs man, Buddhist dogs.

Field of Dreams at 7,000 ft.
It comes at you out of nowhere. You come up the hill, past the little monastery and just over the ridge there it is; the most organized game of cricket I’ve seen in India. Save any and all cricket complaints until I can defend it in person. At the moment just know that this is the purest sports scene I’ve seen in a very long time. It’s the closest thing to the Sandlot that these eyes have ever seen. The simultaneous joy and pain, the talk in the field, the good natured spirit, it was all infectious. I sat mesmerized. And hey, the view wasn’t so terrible either.

Twice
400 rps ($9) doesn’t get you what it used to. Our ‘deluxe’ night bus was supposed to get us from Mcleod Ganj to Delhi in a solid 12 ½ hours, leaving us six hours or so to make our flight to Kathmandu. How could I be so foolish, of course I should have guessed that the front left tire would blow TWICE on the journey. After the first one was fixed we had to stop every so often to tighten and adjust it. By 6 am, 12 hours into the trip, when we stopped for tea and found out we were still five hours out, we tried to get a little group together to split a taxi for the rest of the trip, as we started to see our plane tickets fading into the realm of wasted money. We got two thais and two Russians and were all set, except that we couldn’t find a cab in the middle of nowhere at 6 am, who’d a thunk it. One of the bus staff said he’d find us one in the next town. So we waited for an hour as the driver etc. had tea, and then took off for the supposed taxi location. Of course there was no taxi in that town, but we were assured there’d be one in the next town. So now it’s a little past 7 and the tire blows, again. We spend the next hour on the side of the road waiting for a taxi. By 8 ish the six of us are packed in a taxi with a driver who doesn’t speak English, monks and travelers wishing us good luck on making our 1:15 flight. The guy who tracked down the taxi tells us we’ll probably get there between 11:30 or 12, as he conspicuosly takes a huge cut of the inflated/ extortionary 850rps each we pay. No time to argue, were on our way. By 1:45, about 20 hours after our original departure, I stand in line at the Air Sahara office booking a seat for the next day’s flight. Angry? Frustrated? Homicidal? Not really, not until I dig into my airport chow mein from ‘Yo! China’, my first meal in those 20 hours, and it was crap. Then I was pissed off.

The misc. India tidbits

Mike in front of an actual sign in the Delhi airport. We couldn’t agree with the sentiment in any stronger terms then hes expressing.
Tea Time, kinda. Picture a cup of hot tea that you’re used to. Got it? good. Now forget it. What we were drinking 85 cups a day of was more of a hot chocolate with extra sugar concoction. Sometimes it was spiked with a pinch of tea, sometimes a pinch of coffee, sometimes a splash of hot milk. Yummm, hot sugar and a show, gotta love it.

The colors are just better there, that’s what it is, and that’s the allure. The colors are bright, vibrant and everywhere. Colors, colors.....colors colors.
Idolatry 101, India.

Tell me that this guy doesn't look at least a little like Qadaffi. Go ahead, with a straight face try to tell me that this statue in a tiny village in southern India is not at least reminiscent of Muammar al-Qaddafi. Go on....I’m waiting.

Z Magnetism
We picked some bottles of this up for a white elephant gift exchange that we tried at work. The text made me want to go into Indian advertising. Pure genius.

The Village

Anuisha, one of the WSHG training staff, and her husband sitting on their porch. One of my favorite and most frequented spots in the village. Anytime I walked by I had to stop for tea, they were insistent. Aside from her work with SCORD she sells herbal medicine and her husband does agricultural work, animal husbandry, and some veterinary work for good measure. They work very hard to provide for their two children, who share their one and a half room house and its one cot/bed. Go ahead and re-read that last line for me if you don’t mind. Thanks.

Shanti’s crew Shanti (in the orange). One of my original ‘sisters’, and one of the incredibly strong single mom’s that we spent time with. Her mother, sister, son and daughter, nephew and neighbors hosted us for lunch on the floor of the family’s living room/ dining room/ bedroom. All stood and watched, very pleased that we were enjoying.

Bed bugs are jerks

Mike and I took somewhat different approaches to the bug problem. I cried and cried and cried, then cried a little more. He slept in full space man gear. To each his own. And yes, that is my room, and yes that is how it looked for a month, and yes that is my vesti doubling as a sheet, and yes we did in fact go crazy, and yes of course I miss it already.

The Natural
All these years spent playing, watching, thinking, living sports, and it turns out I was all wrong. I was definitely born on the wrong continent. I’m a natural cricketer. Bowler and batsmen, I’m an all-rounder. Collecting wickets and picking up boundaries like their going out of style, I’m Brian Lara (a righty version) and Andrew Flintoff (without the drinking problem) all rolled into one. Match me up against 12 year olds any day of the week, I can hang. And yeah, if you got any of those references, you score major points, and have way to much time on your hands…like me.

The bus
Waiting for the bus with a few of our buddies. The orange hat is Hari, one of our favorites. Between Hari and I is the kid that single handedly nearly sent me over the edge. He was good for 4-6 visits a day to our door. He spoke basically zero English and could care less that we couldn’t communicate, he just wanted to introduce us to every child on the continent. Nice guy, made me feel terrible for my negative feelings, but seriously man, give me a little alone time once in awhile. Oh, right, alone time is a completely foreign concept in the village, everyone’s door is always open. So I’m a jerk.

I refer to it only as 'country strong'. I’ve never spent a lot (read any) time around farmers before this trip, but I've got nothing but respect for those I met. These men and women worked longer and harder, for less pay and gratification, then I could have imagined. The sheer physical strength of these guys was ridiculous. Country strong.





I was alone for the first week at SCORD, this is the condition Mike found me in when he arrived...tired, disheveled, and using a cot as a dining room table. All and all it was a pretty decent portrayal of the situation; and I loved every minute of it (in retrospect).

The Office

The Office L to R- The hardest working man in Indian NGO’s, the man, the myth, the legend: BP. The Jollyiest Village man of them all, the future prince of reality TV; Raj kamar. The smoothest driver in India, with the highest pitch giggle you can imagine: Pahtsarty, better known as Poy o som (sweet noodle). You can see a bit of the office behind them, look hard and notice the thatched roof and plastic chairs.

The smallest TV in history
In the kitchen/ nap room at the office, Bala and Raj Kamar chill out and watch a replay of the past night’s cricket match on the office TV. I wish I could say that this was posed or that it was a rare occasion for them to be camped out in front of this, but that just wouldn’t be true. This was another norm that I never quite comprehended as a plausible reality.

Its Raj kumar's world

He’s not so much a performance artist as he is just the most naturally goofy man I’ve ever met. The eyes, the stache, the grin…man crush much, of course. Niece and mother show no signs of what must be a recessive ‘goofy gene’. I don’t know how to describe outside of the video, which even then shows only a snippet of his brilliance.

This would be as good a time as any to mention how comfortable with my sexuality this trip has forced me to become. What do I mean by that? I mean three straight adult males shared this motorbike to work every morning. Yep. You get over yourself and your concept of personal space real quickly.

The day that assimilation went too far.
My name is Earl, and I’m wearing a skirt. People generally dug my beard as being ‘Indian style’, with the exception of President Mahdi who harangued me as ‘lazy’ for not shaving; truer words were never spoken. However, at some point Mike obviously drugged me and convinced me that we should rock moustaches for the crew at the end of our time there, to truly fit in. We did, and we did. The most common expression used to describe the disaster on my upper lip was ‘super’. I have plenty of pictures that prove otherwise. Can you see these? For the low low price of $14.95 they can be yours. Please make checks payable to: Greg’s shame makes him cry himself to sleep, 1 Nepal Rd., Nepal.

The Wedding

One of the wilder events we were invited to was this wedding. I’m still not sure what happened most of the time, but like every other event we attended, we were eventually asked to sit on the dais and make a speech. This time I held my ground, no speech thanks, my words couldn’t capture this right.
At some point, after every child in India had waved at us non stop for hours, Mike decided that they would probably repeat any gesture we made... hence 'the Bullwinkle' made its way to Tamil Nadu. I truly hope it’s a lasting legacy.

The crew dressed to the nines for the wedding. White shirt, white vesti, 'very nice'. And yes, I think that man skirts are the wave of the future. I never realized how good women had it.

Tsunami Affected Area

Tsunami Affected Area

The temporary housing that most people are still living in. A plethora of international NGO’s are working hard in the area, and supposedly the majority of homes are almost complete. In the meantime, however, the population is still living in these small communal shacks that have only partial partitions between family dwellings.

Just an average street in the Naggapatinam district.

A women’s day ceremony gone horribly wrong. After sitting around a dais for the better part of four hours, giving a short speech, and watching the same six girls rotating between eight songs, it’s the last dance. Mike got as primal as anything I’ve ever seen, I feared for people’s safety. They loved him. They loved him like Woody Allen loves Sung yi; you know, on a lot of different levels. They’ll never forget him.

nacho libre
This guy IS the Tamil Jack Black. Funny in the right situation; annoying otherwise. He had the Nacho Libre voice down, and I think the movie would have been infinitely better with him in the lead. That’s my two cents.

CBR (Community Based Rehabilitation)

Sakhtivel and sis

Sakhtivel is one of the children that SCORD helps with their CMH program. His medication is paid for and his family is given help and instruction in physical and emotional therapy. His mother passed away a few years ago, his father is a seasonal laborer that can barely feed the family let alone pay for his son’s medication. His three sisters help ease the daycare burden, impeding their studies and/or wage earning potential. Mike and I tried to help SCORD with communicating and grant writing to fund a daycare/ special education center that would provide a healthy and safe environment for special needs children in the area that would allow families to know their children are taken care of while they can then in good conscious pursue their own education or earn more income. For Sahktivel’s family’s sake, and many more like them, we hope the funding comes through.

JSS (janita...ss...sffsd... look its helps people okay)

One of the JSS programs was this nursing group who also leaned typing and computer skills to make them hospital job ready at the end of the six month course. The girls were incredible. They were only two weeks in, but already held their heads higher and exuded more confidence then the vast majority of women we met during our stay. The head of the program, Dr. Kubendren, a college professor who left his post to do hands on work, hand picked these disadvantaged young women specifically. He asked ‘who is the most beautiful?’ All hands shot up. ‘Who is my favorite?’ All again. ‘Who will be the most successful?’ All of them. He asked for volunteers to sing a song, everyone complied, then a representative stood and sang a beautiful song of hardwork and perserverance. This may sound trivial, but it sure didn’t feel that way. Minutes before we met women who were literally terrified to shake our hands, let alone speak to us, while these girls from ‘extremely disadvantaged situations’, held heads high and truly were exuding equality. Wildly impressive.

Celebrate good times, a come on!

These ladies are all smiles as we inaugurate a new vocational training center, where women in the area will be able to learn professional sewing skills thanks to SCORD’s JSS program.

WSHG (Women's Self Help Groups)

This WSHG produced rope made from dried coconuts. I didn’t know you could do that, I really didn’t.



One of the many groups that we were lucky enough to spend a little time with....

and who taught us not to go thinking for one little second that big glasses and chuckin deuces isn’t an absolutely international language.

Hanoi

Hanoi is a big, loud, crowded and mildly chaotic city. I like it. Don't love it, but like it. I'll end up being here on and off for a little less then two weeks and in that time I'll have stayed in a total of 6 rooms in 3 guest houses..... as long as there are no moves in my last few days. This shot was taken from the balcony of one of the four rooms I've stayed in at my current guest house. When I got back from Halong, the room that was supposed to be reserved for me was taken, but the manager desperately wanted me to stay knowing I planned on close to another week at his place. He talked me into taking his cramped quarters, on the top (6th) floor, decorated with stuffed animals and a strange poster of a naked baby, for half price. I refused over and over, but he was adamant, and I of course relented. It wasn't until breakfast the next morning that I found out that he wasn't alone on the mattress in the lobby, he evidently has a 3 months pregnant wife who had also been displaced for the night. My embarrassment was tangible. I apologized to her and admonished him for not telling me the extent of the situation. They both laughed- happy to have retained my business. Where am I?

The Ho Chi Min mausoleum and museum complex is definitely my favorite of the museums I've visited here. The walk through the mausoleum to view the remains of Vietnam's much revered modern founding father, is a highly structured and massively chaperoned process. Two single file lines wind you through the complex until you become one line inside the building, led by a significant military presence. No bags inside, no photos, no talking, no hands in your pockets, and definitely no stopping in front of the body. Move it along folks. The museum is much livelier with wildly impressionistic displays, including the one above. Louis Armstrong, the Guggenheim and a replica Ford Edsel in a museum dedicated to Ho Chi Min; WHY NOT?

How varied are the displays at the museum? Here are New Year's (1952-1954) cards from Uncle Ho. They really do have it all here.

Tay Ho Pagoda was the scene of my new favorite cultural tidbit. These folks are burning replica money so that their deceased loved ones can get paid in the after-life. Evidently it ain't cheap on the other side. Apparently ancestors often appear in dreams with specific requests (doesn't anyone just drop in to say hi without an agenda anymore?) that the living then adhere to. This leads to offerings of not only cash, but you guessed it, beer and orangina as well.

Dropped by the Hanoi Hilton as well. Sure its not the Ritz, but it didn't seem so bad to me.

After the great experience in Saigon I figured I'd get a little touch up on the Hanoi streets. Disappointment city. Evidently 'trim' doesn't translate as well in the north. He took me down to something close to a five o'clock shadow, except for the sweet fu manchu that he left intact (sadly the camera was already put away). I laughed, he put away his clippers, then I frantically got across that the mustache had to go. The beard gets a do-over. We'll see how street barbers in India listen to directions.

Halong Bay

The majestic Halong Bay was a welcome retreat from the crazy amount of noise and commotion in Hanoi. Lounging on a boat for two days surrounded by nothing but beautiful rock formations, and occasional small talk with the Belgian family ( 2 EU development workers and 2 social workers that more than dabble in photography and visual arts) I befriended made for a great mini excursion.

Did I mention some of the rocks just flat boggled my goggles. I really should have paid more attention in geology class, I realy should have.
In case you got hungry on the boat, the snack boats were never too far away.
The snack boat folks have intentionally short commutes to work. Not pictured but present were the children playing with their dogs on the nets outside the houses. Toby would not have been pleased with that kind of arrangement.


Giant cave inside one of the islands of the bay. Stalactites and mites galore. Did I mention how desperately I wish I had been more focused in geology? The room was just so dark and the prof had the power point going everyday.....

Speaking of paying better attention; evidently I didn't specify that I wanted to stay on the boat so i was relegated to a hotel on Cat Ba island. Luckily the Belgians and I were treated to a nice dinner at the hotel and I had a pretty decent view of the bay, as seen through my attempt at a 'reflective' self portrait. Being stuck on land did have the added advantage of me being able to buy a box of choco-pies to snack on later. Choco-pie is a Vietnamese produced version of a moon pie that is literally everywhere in this country. At a rate of around 6 for a dollar I've become a little too big a fan. Hey, I'm supporting the local economy, get off my back.

Asian Travel

enough said

Movie Stars!

So sometimes when your wandering the dark streets of Hoi An and a guy rides up to you on his motorbike asking if you want to be in a movie the next day, its probably not a good idea to say, 'yeah I'd love to.' But that was our particular approach, and more or less, it turned out pretty ok. The pic above is not actually Mike and two Swedish travelers travelling. Thats acting gang! Karen and Matthias got pulled into the flick by the same promise of $450,000* for 5 hours of movie work that Mike and I signed up for. The allure of a Korean ghost film directed by the Korean Spielberg was too much to resist. The deal ended up being sweetened by the fact that I was singled out to share the screen, in a crucial shot filling the space between two huge stars, the Vietnamese Tom Hanks (pictured in tie and glasses between the Swedes) and the Korean Julia Roberts. Spelberg was evidently sufficiently pleased with my ability to look like a traveler standing at the front of a line waiting for a customs official. I got a big smile and hearty slap on the shoulder after the scene's final take. Things got a little sillier from there as we were required to stay on set, a fourty minute drive from town, nearly 5 hours longer then we had agreed to. Of course extra money was then promised and never received. But hey 450 large and the possibility of stardom come the summer release of 'Moui': how can I complain?

*and yeah it ended up working out to like 3 bucks an hour, out of which I had to pay for breakfast, lunch and snack, if you want to get all technical about it, so just don't ok.

Dalat

'La Petit Paris'. You gotta love a mini replica eiffel tower perched next to a lake in an elevated city in Central Vietnam. You just gotta. Relaxing town that we biked up, through and around. Local specialty are vegetarian dishes prepared in the traditional style to look like different meats. Evidently its an old Buddhist tradition to make the faux meats so that visitors can feel at home by eating things that appear to be part of their normal diet, while at the same time upholding Buddhist vegetarianism. I dug it. I was particularly pleased with the fake orange chicken looking thing, for no particular reason.


Yeah, and we hung out with cows. 'Vogue, vogue... work it for the camera'. Gotta love Dalat, just gotta.

War Museums

War Museums are plentiful in Hanoi and Saigon, all the better to re-enforce the trauma that war has brought this country. The suffering of the victims of chemical and biological warfare continues today, maiming new generations, and was particularly striking. Agent Orange didn't only maul thse who were sprayed, but also often mutilated their offspring. The atrocities in the name of war were not only inflicted on innocent civilian Vietnamese, but in a deplorable twist of fate, American GI's were the recipient of their government's experiments. Check out what the U.S. state department has to say.


One of my favorites of the old propaganda posters. I think they captured his smile pretty nicely.