Human Nature

I find human nature so darned interesting. I've been visiting some friends and their two 20 month old twins boys in Atlanta over the holidays. Without fail, every time we go into the playroom one of them gets their plastic pail full of legos/toys and dumps it on the floor, which elicits a huge smile. I'd love to know what synapse fires or what protein synthesizes (does that even make sense scientifically) that brings so much enjoyment from such a destructive act. Maybe it's called the Destructo Gene.

This same curiosity lets me enjoy books by the likes of Malcolm Gladwell, Daniel Coyle, and John Wooden. It's what excites me about tutoring and coaching young people. It's also what keeps me up at night wondering why I actively avoid doing the things that I know will help me reach the goals I've set out. We're a funny species; it's like we've been designed with huge flaws that can only be overcome by a surfeit of hard work and discipline.

Coolest neighborhood in Cleveland

By the time I leave, I'll have spent just over a month in the City of Crippling Depression. All jokes aside, Cleveland is actually quite an interesting town. Despite a mass exodous of industry in the last 50 years, the art scene here is quite thriving due to the "old money" here. Instead of investing in the infrastructure or economic development of the city, these wealthy families have continued to pour money into the museums, symphony, and the like. Which, for a visitor is great since I get to experience all of this amazing culture without getting involved with the negative aspects of a city that had a bleak economic future before the recession hit. As a result, there are not too many people moving to Cleveland (at least not by choice). Without an influx of new blood, you really get to see the true face of a community. There is nothing to hide behind, no new crowd taking over the neighborhood to complain about. Just the nitty gritty. It's like you took all of the jokers out of the deck - along with most of the face cards - and are just reshuffling the cards that you have left. So the cool neighborhoods aren't spoiled, and they do not turn into Park Slope or Silverlake (not that those neighborhoods are not cool, but they are definitely quite gentrified). One such neighborhood that I have come to enjoy here is Waterloo.

It's quite the mix here, and definitely would not be considered "nice" by any means. Now, new blood does not necessarily connote gentrification, but it's a fine line. The Beachland, a music venue, has apparently been around for a while, but just recently a few new spots have been popping up, one of which is the Waterloo Cafe (www.waterloocafe.com). I came last weekend after the Waterloo Arts Festival. Little did I know that that weekend was the cafe's grand opening! And now I am back typing away thanks to their free wifi! While here, me and my two cohorts have enjoyed a breakfast burrito, a cold brewed coffee, a draft beer, a tex-mex wrap, and one of their working-on-becoming-infamous Waterloo Cookies, all of which have been just delicious (especially the beer!). It is actually connected to the Community Art Center, which exhibits local art (and was a part of the Arts Festival). This neighborhood definitely has the feel of one of those neighborhoods that is yet "undiscovered" and taken over by the new class of yuppies, ie hipsters. With a lagging economy there's only so many of them to go around and they cannot immerse themselves into every nook and cranny of the city. I'm sure it will be found (possibly with the aid of this post) soon enough and there will be more fixed gear bikes and skinny jeans than you could shake a stick at. But for now, for my final days in the Cleve, I will enjoy Waterloo for all it's splendor.

My quarters in the big apple

Thanks to my to one of my best friends in the world (and closest thing
I have to a younger brother), Dave, and more thanks to his lovely
girlfriend Aly who got him to move to New York, I'll be put up for the
next 5 days in their posh residence @ 22 E 22nd St. (Apt. 7A- just let
yourself in; the door is unlocked).

Bloggin' fron 35,000 feet!!

I had planned to begin the chronicles of my six weeks of travels once I got to Cleveland, but seeing as Virgin America offers wifi I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get this blog-party rolling from high in the sky (currently above the surfeit of Nebraska cornfields - we'll see where I am when I finish) (also, I almost had a conniption not being able to check/update my facebook for six and a half hours - whew!)

I'm sure this will all be passe in about a month and a half when every flight has this, but right now it feels as if I'm on the forefront of technology, like I'm the first person to talk on a cell phone or use a microwave. For a mere $12.95 (and the cost of a plane ticket) you too can hop on this wave of technological innovation!

Besides affording me to be a technological trailblazer, Virgin America is also rad for the following reasons:
-their safety video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyygn8HFTCo)
-they conducted a trivia session with free drink/movie coupons while we waited to board.
-did I mention I'm writing this from an airplane in the sky?
-there was a boom box on the floor plugged into the wall blarring dance music as we walked down the corridor to board the plane.

New York City here I come!

Go big or go home

I work a booth at a farmer's market every Saturday morning. There's this girl who works at another booth just a few stalls down. For the past few weeks we have chatted here and there - she even gave me a bite of her frozen yogurt the other day as we were all breaking down our tents. I've always enjoyed talking to her and she's super cute, so this week, I decided that I would ask her out.

It was like going to bat against a pitcher that you haven't faced before, but you've seen his stuff and think you might have a good shot at getting a hit. So I step up to the plate, and take a big swing.

"What are you doing later? There's a show down at the Casbah tonight that I was going to go see. Would you want to go?"

I connect right on the sweet spot of the bat and hit a rocket. Everything about the at bat feels great - good eye contact, level swing, smooth follow through. But I don't even take one step towards first base because the ball goes directly... to... the shortstop.

"That sounds really cool, but so you know, I have boyfriend. Maybe we can hang out another time? As friends?"

I can hear my teammates on the bench, "Good cut... Good cut."

Bathroom Cabinet: 1, My left eye: 0

Karma Police

It's funny how things work out.

On the day when my normally passive mother finally divulges her thoughts to me, essentially telling me that my life has been a failure ("You know, you're going to be thirty this year."), I also unintentionally find out that my ex-girlfriend is pregnant with her first child. Of course, these things are bound to happen, and it's quite probable that I would find these things out eventually. But when fucking facebook reveals this tidbit of information, you kind of want to kill the messenger, so to speak.

Facebook affords you the opportunity to connect with people you haven't heard from in years, including the ex-girlfriend who dropped you like a bad habit after a three year relationship (to the day!) without a word of explanation and left you emotionally distraught for years to come and with whom you haven't spoken since shortly after she called you while you were half way across the country with all your belongings packed into your car on your way to meet and live with her in California while she was still staying with your extended family. The joys of online social connectivity!

The best part is that I wasn't even attempting to cyberstalk her. Honest. If I were, then I would be less inclined to chalk this one up to the gods playing a cruel trick on me, and thereby indirectly giving me a wicked hangover tomorrow morning. The circuitous nature by which I found out is unsurprising for anyone familiar with the facebook. You click on a friend's profile, and then click through to another friend, and then while scanning the posts on his wall to see what he's been up to you all of a sudden see a name you haven't seen in some time and read, "Hey! How are you? It's been forever! I'm 4 months pregnant and happier than ever! Especially happier than I ever was when I was with that looser Zach - whatever happened to him anyways? Actually, who cares? That guy was going nowhere with his life!"

Ok, so I made that last part up. But after getting taken to task by my loving mother - whose opinion is one of the few I actually care about in this world (to be fair, she does care about me very much and was just speaking her mind, which is better than her normal passivity, I guess...) - it kind of took that form in my wildly overactive brain. I definitely do not approve of wallowing, nor do I enjoy complaining to others about my (especially when put in perspective) meaningless difficulties that everyone has dealt with at some point in his or her life. But since no one actually reads this, I figure I can get away with this as more or less an online journal entry.

And all this, after hearing last fall that the other half of my most recent relationship - that ended with some spectacular fireworks - was also with child. Granted, I don't pine for either of these women, but it definitely draws a sharp contrast to the view my mother has about the apparent dearth of production in my life up to this point. ("What have you been doing with your life?")

When it rains it pours, my friend(s). Or maybe it's just when something gets you down, it's easy to look around and only focus on the bad shit happening, filtering out any positive around you. Either way, I'll have another, kind sir. Better make it a double this time.

pounding the pavement

Of two of you that read this, maybe one of you saw my first post about how I was back running again after a few months off due to an injury. Well, that didn't take and the injury stuck around. Now, 6 months after that illustrious post and still not 100% healed, I did my 5k loop with the intention of repeating this run three times per week for the next several weeks. Cross your fingers that my foot holds up!

Cowel's Mt.

This morning I borrowed Sasha, my friends Liz and Bruce's dog, and
hiked to the top of Cowel's Mountain. It's the highest point in
Mission Trails Park and you have a full 360 view of all of San Diego.
It's quite the view.

I've never seen a dog happier than when Sasha ran freely in the sage brush after rabbits and who knows what. Though, she definitely used up a good portion of her energy before we got to the steep part just before the summit. At the top - and along the way down - she would find even the smallest patch of shade and plop right down to rest. Poor girl! That's when I would eschew my own thirst and let her drink from my water bottle. She needed it more than I anyways.

Rummage sale

I got a sweet pair of Modern Amusement pants (that fit perfectly!), a half a dozen strings of christmas lights to put in my back yard, a merino wool sweater (perfect for San Diego) and a sweatshirt that reads, "Happy Birthday Jesus" all for under 7 dollars American.

Etc.

After three weeks of travel, over two of which were in India, I
noticed a few things. These are all the observences that did not make
it into the blogs for one reason or another.

Hair:
Everyone in India has amazingly well kempt hair, especially the men.
Even the majority of the people on the street had brushed, well
groomed hair, usually styled in a part. Also, almost every single man
you see has on a collared shirt. It may not be nice, and it may not be
clean, but it has a collar. There's something to be said about looking
your best, even when you are living in the street.

Bizzare vs. Bazaar
I'm not sure if the later stemmed from the former, but I tell you
these bazaars here are aptly named. Just craziness everywhere.

Crossing the street:
It's not "like" a game of chicken, it IS a game of chicken. You have
to gage the speed and determination of the oncoming drivers and decide
if you can make it. If you hesitate, then you will never get across.
Someone referred to it as akin to Frogger (the old stand up video game
in which you are supposed to get a frog across the street with traffic
seemingly coming from every direction. Also in a great Seinfeld
episode).

Driving:
The driving here is insane. I've finally figured out the system -
that's not to say that I could drive in it, but I think I understand
it. The driving is actually the same as crossing the street- it's a
constant game of chicken. When a car is coming at you in your lane,
even if it is on the wrong side of the road, it's all about who
flinches first. No one makes sudden moves because every cubic inch (or
centimeter, I guess) is taken up by a either a car, bus, truck,
rickshaw, bicycle, motorcycle, person, cow, dog, elephant, or goat. At
red lights - when people actually stop - and the light is about to
change everyone revs their engines, slides up next to one another and
rolls back and forth. It looks like the start of a demolition derby. I
hope they are hard at work on Grand Theft Auto VII, Delhi.

Inundating:
Another appropriate word to describe what it's like to walk around as
a foreigner. The constant barage of people approaching and/or yelling
at you is exhausting. As I came out of the Los Angeles airport a man
approached me asking if I needed help with anything. I had this
visceral reaction and immediately said "No thank you!" and tried to
walk away. As it turns out, LAX has a cadre of volunteers who actually
just help people at the airport. They're not trying to get money from
you; they're not trying to get you to go to their hotel or ride in
their taxi. It was quite refreshing!

Westerners:
I always find it odd when I see other travelers, other western
travelers trying to fit in to the culture, or more so, trying to be a
local. Usually this is ostensiby in their dress, wearing sarees or
other local garb which they would never be caught in at any other
time. Maybe I'm being judgemental, but it seems as if these people are
trying to be someone different - change who they are - by dressing or
eating differently. I find travel and more so immersion in another
culture allows me to be more of myself, both in the good and bad ways.
But maybe that's why other people travel, to escape who they are for a
short time. I do it to further find myself. I guess it's this
incongruity that gets me.

Handmade:
I'm sure they have automated factories somewhere, but by much of what
I saw, they do most things by hand. Labor is so cheap here it just
makes sense. Out in the mountains I saw a couple of people making
gravel by hand, GRAVEL for Pete's sake!! A guy would sit on a big pile
of larger rocks, grab one, and hit it with a hammer and break it into
smaller rocks. Ridiculous!!

Record keeping:
Every transaction has an associated paper receipt, carbon copy, rubber
stamp, and signature. It's a sure fire bureaucracy. I guess this is
what it was like before computers. Someone said to me that India is
about 30 years behind. That makes since all the men dress like they're
straight out of the 70's.

High end, low end:
India's high end is right on par with any developed country's, but
their low end drops off the face of the earth. This dichotomy is
apparent everywhere you go as there are many people living in the
streets while life goes on around them. It is just accepted as the way
it is here. If you stop to think about it you will not get very far.

Fixies!
The hipsters must have sent the fixed gear trend across the world as
many people here ride bicycles, and they are all fixed gear (the
bicycles). The bikes aren't quite as cool looking with matching red
tires to your candy apple frame, but that doesn't make the riders here
pedal any less hard.

Swastikas:
The first time I saw one emblazoned on a temple I figured India was
not overrun with white supremists, but found it curious nonetheless. I
unfortunately have not had the appropriate internet time to research
this, so if anyone has better information please post it. From the
Buddhists I asked, they said it is an ancient symbol for peace, an
ironic, but maybe purposeful symbol that Hitler must have usurped.
Even realizing that the sybmbol was theirs first, I still can't get
over the impact of seeing them all over with the weight of the meaning
they carry for us westerners. (I saw one guy walking around with a
large swastika on the front of his t-shirt. Can you imagine someone
wearing that in the US?!)

Carlos and Aashumi:
The night if the wedding when we were all hanging out at the rooftop
bar, Aashumi recalled the story of how they met, their courting, etc.
One detail in particular stood out to me: after the second time they
had met, Carlos made Aashumi 16 mix tapes. Sixteen!!!! And then he
Fedexed them to her for her birthday! Overnight! (she was living in NY
at the time, he in DC) The most mixtapes I've ever made for a girl is
like five, and that was over a period of two or three months. But
that's probably why Carlos is married and I haven't been in a stable
relationship in six years. I guess I just haven't been willing to put
in the effort... Sixteen!!!

It's good to be home

After 36 hours of travel, with no sleep, on two busses, three taxis, three planes, and a 130 mile drive I have finally made it to my wonderful bed! India and France were both quite amazing, but it is nice to be back in the land where there are trash cans and water fountains, you don't don't have to brush your teeth with bottled water, and artificially sweetened cereals are in abundance (gotta have my Pops!). God bless The USA!

Adiós, India

The cab driver who took me to the airport tried to rip me off by
switching the 500 rupee note I gave him with a 100 ruppee note and
claim that I didn't pay him enough. This final episode of malfeasance
left a bad taste in my mouth, that is, until I saw this: (read to the
meter of the old-school rap song "These Are The Breaks")

The last hurrah:

After traveling all over India, including on it's capital (Delhi) and
largest city (Mumbai) I finally found a wireless signal 100 yards from
the ocean. A little hotel restaurant right near where I was staying
had wifi. And it was free if you ate there! I had eat breakfast
anyways, so I figured I could also send out the posts that had been
accumulating in my iPhone in anticipation of this apparently hard to
locate service.

I uploaded as many posts and pictures as I could as my battery was
about to run out and I wanted to save a little juice "just in case".
My plan was to catch both buses this time, and then a cab the last leg
to the airport.

I teamed up with a couple Israelis on my 1.5 km walk out of town who
happened to be headed the same way. I figured safety in numbers... or
misery in company, depending on the outcome. Thankfully both bus
rides, along with the transition were uneventful. On one of the buses
the quote, "If you wish to love people, never judge them" was posted.
I love that there are positive messages like that everywhere you go;
we could use more of that in America.

I killed some time in Panaji before going to the airport. The town was
mostly dead due to the Holi holiday. I did, however, meet a friend
while I sat along the river side. He gently applied a small amount of
dye to my forhead and cheeks in celebration of Holi. Happy Holi!

Gotta love the holidays!

Don't you love it when you think you have everything planned out
perfectly and then something like a national holiday throws a monkey
wrench at you?

The 24+1 (the plus one was Lexi's) postcards I had written were just
screaming for stamps to make the journey on their own to the US and
Australia- like a mama bird pushing her babes out of the nest, I
wanted to send these suckers off. Of course I waited until the last
possible day.

I had planned to stop by the post office right before I caught the bus
out of Arambol. The bus stop is literally right next to the post
office. What I didn't account for was the national holiday of Holi.
The closest holiday I can compare it to in the US is St. Partick's
Day, except everyone throws brightly colored dye/water on each other.
It's a holiday for the celebration of good, as far as I can tell. In
any case, the post office was closed and I'm stuck sending the cards
with US postage. So it goes.