Touching raw meat

The past two days in a row I have handled raw chicken, something that I rarely do for my husband, in order to cook dinner for our dog. I have been wanting to take Kuma off of store-bought dog food for a while. When I was in New York in September I came across a book called Pet Food Nation (what would I do without the "staff recommendation" section at Barnes & Noble). In it is a detailed account of some of the horrors of what goes into commercial pet food, something that was brought to worldwide attention earlier this year when tainted pet food with ingredients manufactured in China killed pets in the US. The book also contains a step-by-step guide to cooking for your pet and includes several recipes.

From now on Kuma will be eating a healthy mix of ingredients including chicken breasts, hearts, and livers; brown rice and whole wheat pasta; steamed vegetables such as string beans, broccoli, and cabbage; and eggs (only as a treat on weekends). Today I purchased organ meats for the first time in my life (see photo). I was pleasantly surprised to find that our supermarket carries organic chicken livers. Tomorrow morning I will sauté up some heart and liver, also a first in my culinary repertoire. But, it's for a good cause, so, here goes!

Ilhabela

Dave surprised me with a long weekend getaway to Ilhabela, an island off the coast about three hours northeast of Sao Paulo. Ilhabela has lived up to its name which translates to "beautiful island." Now if we could just do something about the mosquitoes.

The Mustache Brothers

In December of 2003, my friend Lisa and I traveled to Burma. We were living in Hong Kong at the time and wanted to make the most of our winter break, as neither of us was making the long trip home for Christmas. At the time, I knew nothing about the country or the military junta that had taken control (renaming it Myanmar). Some people I met who learned that I was going criticized me, saying that my tourist dollars would be going to support the junta which was oppressing the Burmese and had massacred thousands. Once there, however, any apprehensions I may have had about playing a role in supporting the bad guys melted away the night we went to see a performance by a local comedy troupe. Lisa had read about the Mustache Brothers in the Lonely Planet and suggested we check them out. After dinner, we took a trishaw (cycle rickshaw) through the darkened streets of Yangon to the home of Par Par Lay - one of the Brothers - that was converted into a performance space when the junta banned them from performing for Burmese.

Lisa and I were the first to arrive and we sat in two of the white plastic chairs set out in a semicircle for the all-tourist audience. While waiting for the rest of the chairs to fill, Lu Maw, one of the other Brothers, chatted with us. Through the performance we learned more about the struggles of those fighting for a democratic Burma and the movement's leader Aung San Suu Kyi. The Brothers stressed that tourism to Burma was vital in order to help spread awareness throughout the world as to the state of things. They encouraged us to take as many pictures as we wanted and to share our stories once went back to our home countries. The Brothers themselves are forced to keep a low profile, but they still make their positions clear in their own way, such as the orange jackets they wear - orange is the color of the democracy movement. Lisa and I liked their jackets so much that we asked after the show if we could purchase them and then posed for a photo with the Brothers.

When I learned about the recent violence in Burma (through an email from Lisa actually, while I was traveling in India), the first thought I had was how the Mustache Brothers were faring, hoping they were unharmed. This past week, my fears were confirmed when the first page of the International Herald Tribune I bought in Tokyo contained a photo of a tired-looking Lu Maw and an article that told of the recent arrest of Par Par Lay. Amazingly, Ma Win Ma (Par Par Lay's wife) and his brothers are keeping an optimistic outlook, continuing to perform and cracking jokes. They are among my heroes and their conviction is truly inspiring. I hope and pray for the safe return of Par Par Lay, and look forward to the day when monks are not killed in the streets while peacefully protesting.

Reunion, at last

Kuma and Dave met me at the airport this morning. Kuma was so excited to see me and it made for the best homecoming. I took these photos in the car ride home. (Kuma, as you perhaps can tell, is not a very cooperative model. As soon as you pull out the camera, he wants to get real close and sniff it, ruining many a potential photo.)

Halloween at Tokyo Disneyland

Jenn and I decided to spend our last day in Tokyo at Disneyland. As it was the day before Halloween, it was packed. Many people were there in full costume, something I wasn't anticipating at all. Alice in Wonderland seemed to be one of the most popular stories from which costumes were drawn (see photos above), but some people decided to get a little more creative (i.e. the Disney drag princesses as I have coined them). We did out part and rode the rides as Mickey and Tigger.

Aching for my bed

Over the past twelve weeks I have visited seven countries and three US states. I have run a marathon. I have slept in a total of 24 different beds. I have taken 23 plane rides totaling approximately 115 hours in the sky (almost five days). Tomorrow I leave Tokyo for Sao Paulo, via New York (where I have a three hour layover). I am two plane rides – totaling 23 hours – away from sleeping in my own bed.

I have seen so much and met so many great people. And, I think that I have finally come to call Brasil home, to think of our apartment in Sao Paulo, and not my parents’ in New York, when I say the words “I’m going home.” Home for me is where Dave is. It’s been an amazing few months, but I can’t wait to go home.

Outing in Asakusa

On Sunday, Jenn and I went to Asakusa, a very touristy neighborhood in Tokyo that has tried to preserve some of the “old Japan” feel. Some photos for you:

Jenn at the gate to the main temple

Pedicab, just for tourisit
Man making dango, my favorite Japanese treat
Rice crackers for sale (the area is famous for them)

Hideki

Matsui in an add for Yoshinoya, a popular Japanese fast food chain (there's one in Times Square in NYC too).

Excess, in excess

“Eco” – the term the Japanese use the way we use “Green” in the US these days – is in in Japan right now. You see stories on the news about campaigns to raise money by selling trendy totebags made of recycled materials, etc. And, in many ways Japan has been “eco” for a while: water is saved by toilets that have a sink built into the top and allow you to use the clean water flowing into the tank to wash your hands; supermarkets charge you for each and every plastic bag you use, encouraging people to bring their own bags; everyone rides a bike.

But, then, you go shopping... Every purchase you make in Tokyo is wrapped in as many layers of wasteful wrapping as possible. The department stores are the worst offenders. The other day I bought a small sushi roll as a snack in the basement of Takashimaya. The roll, which was already wrapped in a thin layer of plastic, was then placed in a flimsy plastic container around which a rubber band was placed, this container was then wrapped in piece of paper secured with a piece of tape, and, finally, the entire thing was placed in a plastic bag along with disposable chopsticks and a packet of soy sauce. Jenn and I bought some postcards last week and each one came in its own plastic sheath. Furthermore, I was reading an article in the paper about a new form of bubble wrap that is being marketed in convenient stores here in Tokyo that is just for popping. So, the next time you are feeling stressed you can head to your nearest 7-11 and buy some small sheets of the wrap to pop away your stress.

As “eco” as they may think they are, I would say Japan has a long way to go, and they need to focus their efforts on the department stores.

So much food

Jenn and I just returned from a two night stay at a ryokan (small, sometimes family-run, Japanese-style hotel) in Ito, south of Tokyo by the ocean. The ryokan had several baths - indoor and outdoor - communal and private, that you could relax in before and after the amazing meals that are served to you in your room. Your stay comes with breakfast and dinner, but you get so much food that you are barely hungry for lunch anyway. I think the photos speak for themselves.

Conveyor belt sushi, the real deal

One of my favorite things in the world...



Where I shot this video, a place in Yugawara (where my cousin lives), has the best conveyor belt sushi that I have ever tasted, and they have the most variety as well.

Tokyo's newest must-have

Walking along the footbridge between Takashimaya and Lumine (two large department stores in the busy Shinjuku neighborhood of Tokyo), you will notice a long line that spans across almost the entire bridge. My mother speculated that perhaps a new play or movie was opening and people were lining up for tickets. But really, what this mostly young horde is waiting for are donuts. That's right, Krispy Kreme has opened its first store in Japan right here in Shinjuku, and falls hottest new accessory is a dozen donut box in a clear plastic bag emblazoned with the KK logo. My mother and I didn't believe it when we heard that people were willing to wait up to two hours for something that New Yorkers can barely wait 10 minutes for, but yesterday we saw it with our own eyes. Here in Japan, all things American are seen as the epitome of cool, and are therefore worshiped, especially by the younger generation.

In true Japanese fashion, even the line outside the donut shop is organized with the utmost care. Three blue-suited men (see photos above) are in charge of the line which first snakes in front of the store and then continues around the corner (though the stairs, which are used by the public, are carefully avoided so as not to cause any trouble to non-donut-waiters). Thus, every once in a while, one of the blue suits will usher 10 people from the longer line, above the stairs on the footbridge, to join the lucky few who are in front of the store. And, for those who wish to know, the approximate waiting time (which was one hour and 50 minutes when I took the middle photo above) is clearly displayed on a sign outside the store. The blue suits are also in charge of wheeling the bins of precious cargo that arrive up the ramp to keep the store stocked with the sugary treats.

Next time I come to Tokyo I'm thinking of stocking up on Krispy Kremes, my mom thinks I can make a killing selling "fresh from New York City" donuts to those waiting at the back of the line. I guess we'll just have to see how long this trend holds up.

Shinjuku nightscape

Back in the saddle again

This morning I went running for the first time in five weeks. I was able to run 20 minutes (with a five minute walking break in the middle) and that was enough. Two months ago the same amount of effort would have likely resulted in 8-10 miles. It was a rude awakening as to the speed with which fitness is lost. The few pounds that I lost in India were likely the result of muscle turning into fat, and therefore not at all of the desired sort. I have not been this out of shape since, perhaps, before college. But, I am optimistic. I have about a month until I formally start training for Kilimanjaro, which means a month of running and swimming to try and regain what I have lost.

As I was running, in a park close to the mostly-residential area of Tokyo where my grandmother lives, the only other runners I saw were men. I passed by many women, but they all gave the me the "Women are supposed to be giggly, effortlessly thin, and wear lots of make-up, not athletic and, god forbid, sweaty" look. And people wonder why I could never live in Japan.

Saying good bye

My last night in India, our tour group took a boat out on the Ganges and held a candle lighting ceremony. The men who rowed our boat lit hundreds of little candles, set in bowls made of leaves, which were then placed in the river, symbolizing a wish or the memory of a loved one. I placed my fair share of candles and made many wishes. It was a fitting end to my time in India.

The next morning I learned - from Dave over the phone - that my grandfather (my father's father) had passed away. I ended my trip a day early and, five plane rides (Varanasi-Delhi, Delhi-Chicago, Chicago-NYC, NYC-Atlanta, Atlanta-Florence) later, arrived in Florence, South Carolina, where my grandfather spent the last ten or so years of his life, and where Dave and my parents were waiting. The day after I arrived was the funeral, which was small but very nice, and my father and I both spoke. I was hoping to make it through my eulogy without crying, but I wasn't able to, as all of the memories came flooding back. I am so glad that Dave and I were able to be there with my parents, representing my grandfather's family, as well as his days spent as a Northerner in Connecticut and New York.

The day after the funeral I flew to New York where I had one night to do laundry and repack before getting on a plane to Japan the following afternoon. India and South Carolina both feel miles away as I sit here in a smoky Internet cafe in Tokyo, but it has been good to see my grandmother and aunts as well as spend some quality time with my mother who is here as well. Tomorrow Jenn arrives and the real fun begins...

Sunrise on the Ganges

After working to upload four photos to the previous post, and in the middle of uploading the fifth and final one, a task that took almost an hour due to the speed of the computer I am on, the internet crashed and I lost all the photos ("Get it India!"). Thus, I streamlined the photo selection when I redid the rickshaw post, and am doing the same for this one.

We took an amazing sunrise boat ride on the Ganges this morning, the part of the tour to which I was most looking forward, and it certainly lived up to my expectations. Seeing the early morning bathers and the burning ghats where people are cremated (both of which you are not to photograph) was a very moving experience. I wish I could show you all my photos, but for now (for the sake of my personal sanity and need to get out of this internet place), I leave you with the above two.

Rickshaw madness

One of the first things you notice when you arrive in Allahabad is how different the pedicabs are from those of other cities. They are brightly painted with beautiful designs. The first photo is an example of an Allahabad rickshaw.

Here in Varanasi, pedicabs are less decorative, but much more prevalent. Yesterday, riding to and from the old part of town for a little shopping was utter chaos. Rickshaws were wheel to wheel on the congested roads, and each time we stopped we would hit the back of the one in front of us, only to be bumped ourselves, seconds later. The latter two photos- one day ride, one night ride - are my attempts to capture the traffic scenes, but really there is no way to do them justice through photo. Despite the madness, last night's rickshaw rides were some of the best moments I've had in India, and Varanasi has quickly become my favorite stop on the tour.

Driving in India

We arrived this afternoon in the holy city of Varanasi, marking the end of our travel by car. Three out of the past four days we have taken four-hour jeep rides to get to our next destination. Driving in India (or riding, I should say), is an experience like no other.

When I first arrived in Delhi - over three weeks ago - I had arranged to be picked up by someone from my hotel. It was dark out when the man carrying the sign with my name on it and I arrived at the small car in the dusty airport parking lot, the driver asleep in the car with his seat fully reclined. As we started out on the late night roads of Delhi, still teeming with cars, the hotel travel agent, riding shotgun, turned around to face me and said, "To drive in India you need three things: good horn, good brake, and good luck." This was, in essence, my welcome to India, and it couldn't have been more fitting.

The roads here rarely have white lines of any kind delineating lanes, and even when they do they are not respected. Drivers are engaged in what is like a never-ending game of chicken; moving from side to side to pass slower vehicles, veering off just in time to avoid head-on collisions with trucks and buses, all the while weaving in and out of the way of bicycles and motorcycles. At the same time, at the side of the road are women walking with large loads on their heads, groups of children playing, and men squatting and having a cup of chai. On more rural roads, herds of cows, water buffalo, and goats are commonplace, and in larger urban areas stray cows intermingle with men pushing cartloads of bananas, rickshaws, tuk tuks, cars, buses, and trucks. Add to all this the incessant soundtrack of horns. Trucks and buses especially, come equipped with special horns that play a high-pitched melody that makes your ears ring. And, unlike in the U.S. where car horns are often discouraged (as with parts of NYC where you incur fines), here, the backs of most trucks have brightly colored signs requesting of those who wish to pass, "Horn Please."

Our many jeeps rides have been without incident, which is good, though I have seen enough dead dogs in the road- in various stages of decay - to last me a lifetime (I would become quite depressed each time I saw one). All in all, I am very glad to have seen so much of the country through the window of a white jeep, but I am also happy to be done with riding on the roads of India.


P.S. Beth took an amazing video today with her digital camera. Two minutes of pure traffic madness on the way into Varanasi. I hope to post this here soon.

Four more days

The tour is winding down, and I must say that I am excited and ready to go home, or rather, back to New York for a few days before I fly to Tokyo. Since my last post, we drove from Khajuraho to Chitrakoot, a holy Hindu city. It was my least favorite stop on the tour so far, but we did take a nice boat ride and view an interesting Hindu ceremony. I was happy to arrive this afternoon in Allahabad, a Delhi-esque city. Tomorrow we head to Varanasi where we spend our last two and a half days before we take the overnight train back to Delhi to fly home to our respective countries.

Here are a few more photos for you...

Panna Tiger Reserve - close encounter with an elephant (that walked by so close to us that we were able to look it right in the eye/pet it), though we didn't see any tigers.

Chitrakoot - night market

en route to Allahabad - Indian truck

Allahabad - arrival at the hotel

Success!

I have finally reached a place with a computer with a USB port, so here are just a few of my favorite photos for you (I have taken over 200 so there is no way I can post them all. Once I'm back, I'll post a link to an album with the rest).

The photos are of, in order...

Delhi - an unidentified vegetable on sale at an outdoor market

Agra - the Taj Mahal (duh)

en route to Chanderi - a lovely family we sat with on the train

Chanderi - a Hindu priest who kept making me listen to his cell phone ring

Orchha - dyes on sale at the local market

Khajuraho - one of the many kamasutra sculptures at Lakshmana temple

"Get it India!"

The tour marches on, at somewhat of a glacial pace, but I have made it to the halfway mark and that is quite an accomplishment, if I'm allowed to say so myself. The Taj Mahal was lovely at sunset and then we left Agra the following morning for a small town called Chanderi which is very much off the tourist circuit. There we enjoyed some ruins (we've been to A LOT of ruins) and one of the highlights of the tour so far, dinner at the home of Kalle Bai, our Chanderi-based guide. His wife cooked us some of the best Indian food I've ever had and we ate outdoors my starlight in the courtyard of his home. Yesterday morning we left Chanderi on a somewhat harrowing two and a half hour public bus ride. We were at the back of the rickety bus which was speeding along the not-so-paved road, sending us flying off our seats on multiple occasions. Add to this the loud talking of the Indian men around us, and one occasion of a passenger getting sick out the window and having drips of vomit come flying back at us through the open windows. Needless to say, we were happy to arrive at our hotel here in Orchha, another small town (with more ruins) where I sit using dial-up Internet.

I have become close with a lovely Australian girl, Beth, who is my age. We managed to facilitate a room swap so that we are now roommates and this has already made the trip oh-so-much better. Before she left Australia, Beth's friends coined the expression, "Get it India," which is a play on a popular Australian expression, "Get it into 'ya." "Get it India," has become the motto of our trip, and whenever something happens that is slightly off-putting we simply say it and smile. It was said numerous times on our bus journey and I can only imagine that it will be uttered many a time to come.

Get it India!

Some highlights

I realized that my last post could have been viewed as somewhat negative, so I've decided to include a few highlights of my trip thus far:

- Being on the plane with the Indian National cricket team (who are mega stars here) on my way from Delhi to Dharamsala. We received a royal welcome when we arrived. Interestingly, the South African team, who they were to play next, was also on the (very small) plane and I sat next to their coach, a very lovely man.

- Taking yoga in the afternoon sunshine during my meditation retreat.

- Playing with the dogs at Tushita.

- The Sikh temple we visited in Delhi.

- Pairs of Indian male friends holding hands as they walk down the street together.

- Seeing an elephant by the side of the road - just a few yards from a McDonald's - today upon arriving in Agra.

In about an hour I head to the Taj Mahal which I'm sure will be added to this list. Again, wishing I could share some photos, but promising to do so as soon as I can.

Shocking

"It's quite a culture shock, isn't it?" I have already been asked this by at least two members of the seven-person tour group I joined last night. I want to be able to smile back, say yes, and relate some "crazy" thing that I saw out of cab window, but the truth is, no, I don't feel culture shock here. I have always had somewhat of an issue with the term "culture shock" itself, as it seems to imply that you think the ways of another people or country are somehow so far out there that you can't wrap your brain around them. Out of all my travels, I will admit to having felt culture shock only while visiting the south in the US.

Delhi, to me, feels like an amalgamation of other places I've been (take Burma, add a dash of Vietnam and a pinch of Kenya) and in that sense I don't feel overwhelmed. I do miss the quiet of McLeod Ganji. I am tired. I am ready to leave tomorrow morning for quieter places. Agra, our next stop, may not fulfill that, but then we are going to some small villages which I hope will provide some respite. More than anything, what I think makes me tired is the fact that nothing here has a set price and so you can never fully escape the feeling that you're being ripped off, except when you know you're being ripped off, like last night when we were herded into an over-priced restaurant filled with only other tour groups. It's difficult even to get your taxi or tuk tuk driver to take you straight back to your hotel as they inevitably want to take you past several shops from which they receive a commission.

I don't mean to be negative. I am trying to keep the Buddhist attitudes I learned at Tushita in my heart, and I do start every morning with some meditation in my hotel room. I truly miss the people I met at Tushita who were all young and adventurous and well-traveled. Now, I am with people who are older and less accustomed to this sort of travel, but I signed up for a tour, so I take full responsibility for putting myself in this situation. Ultimately, I do feel safer this way, knowing that I have people with whom to check in, and we have a guide who deals with things like getting us on buses and trains (as my tour relies solely on public transportation so that you can interact with the locals, which is very cool).

Tomorrow I am off to see the Taj Mahal, a must. I will try to relax a bit and revel in the free time that we are provided. Sorry that I can't share any photos from today, but the computers I have at my disposal do not accommodate my memory card, so I will post a bunch when I return to NYC.

Delhi to Dharamsala and back again

I am back in Delhi after a tranquil 10 days in Dharamsala. Stepping off the plane today, back into the heat, I wished that I was still in the hillside town of McLeod Ganji where I was on a Buddhist retreat. I can't possibly capture the experience here in a simple post, but my days were spent in silence, meditating and learning about Tibetan Buddhism with about 50 other travelers. For the first six days, we were able to talk for an hour a day when we broke into small discussion groups to talk about what we were learning. The last two full days, however, were spent in complete silence with seven meditation sessions spread throughout the day. Above is a photo of the gompa where I spent most if my time, as it where we had lessons as well as meditation sessions. Below that is my beloved discussion group with whom I became quite close.

Being back in Delhi is a little jarring. Riding in a taxi is always an experience as a three lane road is somehow turned into a five lane highway of cars, trucks, and motorcycles weaving in and out of each others' ways. I am excited though that tomorrow marks the beginning of my two week tour as it means more new people to meet, and much much more of the country to see.

'Till mid-October...

There are clothes strewn all over my childhood bedroom. I have re-stocked the band-aid supply in my toiletry case. I have a new sleeping bag that stuffs smaller than I thought possible. Three days ago I was immunized for typhoid.

Tomorrow I leave for India where I will spend the next four weeks. I fly to Chicago and then direct to Delhi. Once there, I will fly up to Dharamsala where I am enrolled in the 10-day Introduction to Buddhism course at Tushita Meditation Centre. There I will learn about the religion, meditate, and not talk (although I may be allowed to for an hour a day for the first seven days). After my retreat I fly back to Delhi where I will join a two-week small group tour that travels between Delhi and Varanasi. I'll see the Taj Mahal, numerous temples, go on a tiger safari, and float down the Ganges.

Going to India has been a dream of mine since college. I will likely have little to no email access while I am there. I am a little nervous. I am excited. I am going to India.

Home, part two

It's the little things, like reading the New Yorker while riding the subway or the sound of John Madden's voice coming from the TV that make me realize that this where I belong, that I'm finally home (if just for a brief visit).

Home

For the last week and a half I have been enjoying island life here in my favorite place on earth. As most of you know, I attended/worked at a summer camp here on Orcas Island called Camp Orkila for many years (yes, I'm the "One time at Orkila..." girl). Last week, Dave was here and we had many visitors, mostly camp friends of mine. We also got to hike, swim, and eat delicious locally grown organic food. Last weekend, Dave and I went to see Dave Matthews Band at the Gorge before Dave left to go back home. This week I am back on Orcas staying with my parents. I have been kayaking, taking yoga, and learning to love trail running. I have four more days here and then I'll be in NYC for five days before I fly to Delhi to begin my Indian adventure. But, first, I need to eat blackberry pie at least two more times.

Above: Jenny, me, and Maria atop Mt. Constitution (the highest point in the San Juans).