An excellent article on food and the American diet. If the article's too long, skip to the end for the tips.
Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.
It is no wonder that Hindus and therefore the overwhelming majority of Indians believe in reincarnation and concern themselves with finding harmony, because to experience India is to experience life. Not life of the individual, as we so readily picture in the west. Not the single path of our existence moving via our own decisions from birth towards death. But all of life, humanity, paths overlapping. In an instant both life and death and everything in harmony.
It isn't that I am in a highly philosophical mood. It is not that I believe in reincarnation, I don't. It is the fact that to be aware at all while in India is to come face to face with all stratus of life and points in them.
To only show you a piece of the larger whole, as I tried to piece that last sentence in my mind, there was a servant mopping the floor at my feet, very probably not literate, while I sat formulating words to print on a computer screen for you to read.
That illustrates a bit of the closeness of life in India, but to try and illustrate the layers I will try to say something of the depth. We are by no means staying with one of the richest families in India and our servants are by no means make up the poorest. To say that someone is not literate in Canada places them at the very bottom of our social hierarchy, in India the hierarchy expands further. I do not know the back story of the cleaning boy, but as Steve and I took a walk during our first day he shared with me a story about the cook. The road we were on was paved, but a good portion of the sides were made up of fresh gravel. As we walked, we would pass by workers, entire families of them. The work was divided by ability, grandmothers pushing carts with tar and younger members doing more of the physical work itself along the shoulder. On either of side of the road were residential apartment buildings, exactly like the ones we were staying in, but at one point a gap of bare ground appeared and in that spot was an entire village camped out. It was the worker's camp and amongst the makeshift tents (a tarp and two sticks) children played. This type of life was apparently the kind our cook had come from. Saved from carrying heavy loads on her head to construction sites by the relative luxury of cooking someone else's diner.
I am describing my experience using broad strokes, but to add finer details I will try to describe the drive we went on through the city on our first night. Describing driving in India is an interesting endeavour, because it is quite different than anything you might encounter in our very regimented West. Perhaps the simplest way to imagine it is to imagine people walking through a crowd. The navigation is seemingly complex, there are no direct paths and specified directions of movement and yet our brain handles the navigation process easily, seemingly without thought. This is very similar to driving on the streets, except for in addition to people walking, you have cars, people pushing tables with various goods to sell, large buses, many scooters, bikes, motorcycles and three wheeled taxis, the occasional camel driven cart, goat herder and goats, wandering cows and maybe even a cripple crab-walking across the street. Now add the sound of constant honking, because this is how vehicles communicate their presence, and you begin to have an idea of what it is like. Driving at night through busy portions of the city, as I did on my first night, intensifies this experience. As we drove, the sights whipping past, the people weaving through, it began to pick up a rhythm. Much like the music of India, seemingly disjoint at first but as the layers built, fitting together and fitting inside each other naturally. The stories of life mimicked this pattern. Couples on scooters and motorbikes, the man staring forward concentrating, the woman relaxed on the back, leaning against the man, sari colourful and swaying in the breeze of their curved and darting trajectory through the gaps in traffic. Sometimes families, the same as the couples, but as the scooter pulls even just before the pass, the glimpse of a young child straddled in the middle, secure between its parents. Here life is full, young and filled with expectation. To the side of the road, store fronts different in colour and wares, some for the very rich, some just a cart sitting on the shoulder. These passed in a regular pattern, constant but changing, but interleaved were occasional fires, warmth in the cool night for those without homes, nearby children grouped, engaged in the various universal activities of childhood. Here life, still full, is connected through a thinner thread. These juxtapositions continued as we travelled and as the parts began to blur in their repetition, India began to take shape. The glimpses of individual lives began to add up into a larger picture of life as a whole.
A few random lists for your enjoyment:
(According to Last.fm)
And the real reason I made this post, I found the following very enjoyable to discover
Yes, that's correct, of all the photos I have in my account the second most popular is one of myself in a wetsuit, which leaves photos such as this one, gathering dust at #179. Perhaps the title, "Wetsuit pose", gathers a lot of search hits. I hope everyone finds what they're looking for in 2007. Have a great year!
I enjoyed the title of the news post from which this excerpt comes:
The nightclub owner appeared totally at home on the dance floor, basking in the admiring glances of his pupils.
...
For "Danny J" is in fact Corporal Daniel James, the soldier accused of spying for Iran while working as intrepreter and aide to General David Richards, the commander of Nato forces in Afghanistan.
The 'spy' who danced the salsa | News | This is London
I'm beginning to concur with Neil Gaiman, who upon learning of the circumstances surrounding the mystery of the Bishop and his missing memory as well as the news articles involving Russian spies and Polonium posioning, had this to say:
... I am beginning to suspect that whoever is currently writing the world, or at least the English bit of it, is starting to plunder cheap fiction for ideas.
I won't bore you with an outline of how it happened or who was involved, since apparently I was the only one not aware of the facts surrounding Fifi's sudden appearance and then subsequent disappearance (I have even been led to believe that the knowledge was so far reaching that people I have never met, were somehow aware of what was happening). At any rate, congratulations on a prank well executed.
One of the kidnappers has confessed to me and so she will be rewarded with a candle lit dinner, as promised. The primary request of the kidnappers was a photo of myself standing sideways behind streetlight, which I have included within this post.
Since I have so greatly enjoyed this whirlwind plot I have been taken on, I'm also including some requested pictures. The two most strongly requested photos by those hearing the ransom demands were a baby photo of myself and a photo of myself dressed as a ninja at Portage and Main (unfortunately the smoke bomb I threw somewhat obscures the photo), so here you are.
I will be posting pictures from the "C" is for Christmas party shortly, however a much more urgent and unfortunate task demands my attention at present. At some point during the party a daring kidnapping was undertaken and now Fifi is missing. In her place was left this ransom note.
Shortly after the discovery of her dissapearance, an anonymous phone call was made that was tracked to the west side of the city. The phone call left a series of conditions to be met, the nature of which cannot be revealed at this moment, which are feverishly being worked on from this end.
I would like to take a moment and speak directly to the kidnappers. In the short three months that I have come to know Fifi, she has come to mean a great deal to me. Therefore, I would ask that you take great care to make sure that Fifi comes to no harm.
However, before I go through with the actions requested of me, I must have assurance from the kidnappers that Fifi is still alive and unharmed. As such, I will need a photograph of Fifi taken beside a green apple, to insure that photo was taken after this request was made. Also, I will need the picture sent via the email address that was mentioned in the phone call, so I know I am not dealing with an imposter who has purchased a replica of Fifi at a store.
To the general public, I am offering a reward if you can orchestrate the safe return or provide information leading to the safe return of Fifi. The reward I am offering is to prepare and serve a candle lit dinner for two, yourself and a person of your choosing*
Little is known of the events surrounding the kidnapping, but I will try to set out what I do know in the hopes that it may be of help. During the party Fifi mingled with guests and sat on her favourite pillow (shown below) in the corner of the room.
The last known photo of Fifi was taken at 7:56:38 PM. It is estimated that the dissapearance happened shortly thereafter. If anyone has further information pinpointing the time of the event or any suspicious behaviour seen during the party, please contact me.
Since it's been a while since I last posted, I offer you a picture with a rainbow in it.
The dogs versus cats debate is a classic. Here's a story to add to the brew.
After a disabled woman's cat started a house fire, her specially trained dog came to the rescue, then died trying to help the cat still in the house.
Being the pampered pet that she is (not suprising given her heritage), I've always suspected that Fifi lived a fairly posh previous life. Today those predictions seemed to be confirmed, when, upon arriving home, I discovered a pillow complete with tassles and pink sequens spelling out "Fifi" stuffed into our mailbox. Below is a picture of Fifi's honourary spot in her basket atop the fridge, now with her brand new pillow.
One of the reasons for my general busyness as of late, has been adjusting to the bachelor life. For those of you who haven't met my new roommates, I'll introduce you.
They are:
and
I couldn't have asked for two better roommates and for the few moments that we are in our place together during the day, we are usually distracted from doing anything useful by joking around and having an all out good time. As evidenced by last night's impromptu techno mix down session (think Strongbad's "The System Is Down" times ten).
To inaugurate our place, we had a little house warming party. We were truly honoured to have as many of our good friends as we did come out. Thanks to all of you, it made for a good night. Adrian, Ed and I have officially stopped accepting any more friendships until we can find a bigger place or build an extension to our balcony.
I left my camera lying around at the party so that others could document the events and I put the results in a photoset.
I had the opportunity to thank most of you in person for the wonderful house warming gifts you gave, but there is one thank you I have yet to offer. The Monday morning after the party, I was astonished to find something pink and furry in my suit jacket pocket. Along with this unexpected pet, came adoption papers for a little dog named Fifi. At first I was a little worried she would be high maintenance (judging by the pink boa), but that concern soon became unfounded as I came to realize what a wonderful pet she was. So a big thank you to the anonymous previous owners.
It's been a while since I've been able to do an event based post, and a lot has happened since then. One of the biggest things to happen was Stephen and Minal's wedding ceremony. What follows are a few highlights from the colourful reception that followed.
A more in depth view can be found by checking out the photo sets of Kyla, Sara and myself.
While the wedding of Stephen and Minal was obviously the celebration of a large milestone in their life together, it was also the occasion for a much smaller milestone for Geoff and also myself.
You see, it was pretty much exactly a year ago minus one week from the reception, that found Geoff and myself on the occasion of celebrating his birthday at the Empire. Things proceeded as they did normally for us on such occasions. We got up on the dance floor and acted like fools (Note: Apparently some things never change) and girls, heaven knows why, would come up and begin dancing with us. This time, however, something was different, one of the girls invited myself and, primarily, Geoff to come up and try salsa dancing with her. At any rate the girl had some effect on Geoff and by the end of the night had him convinced to go across the street to Ted Motyka's Dance Studio for drop-in lessons sometime.
Shortly thereafter, Geoff and I made good on our endeavour and showed up for lessons. The prospect was quite intimidating, our ability to make fools of ourselves on the dance floor did not directly translate into being able to master even the basics of latin and ballroom dancing. This disconnect became all the more readily apparent when we danced with beautiful women, specifically Galina, who knew what they were doing and therefore how far we fell short. This, however, made it all the more of a challenge for us and it was during this time that Geoff and I would have a conversation that became quite routine.
The pattern would go something like this. Geoff and I would see someone doing something with ease (with said beautiful women) which was quite impossible for us, and we would then pause and look at the other with the mutual understanding that it was both very impressive and something which we wanted to do ourselves. Then without fail, either Geoff or I would say, "In a year that will be us", and we would smile, partially, I think, because we didn't fully believe it.
Getting ready for our first public dance performances, at Stephen and Minal's wedding, it was then a pleasant surprise to realized that, the week after our performances we would hit the one year mark for our craze of all things dancing. Our progress had shifted so gradually, as it does when you you are a part of it, that I couldn't pinpoint exactly when we left the "that will be us" to "that is us" stage, but none the less it was nice to realize it had happened.
So then, to all of you who dream, and I would hope that would be everyone of you. Hopefully this can be a bit of encouragement to reach out and achieve those goals.
Ed: I blame the length of time since I've lasted posted, for the build up of sappiness. I've let it all out now. Future posts should be relatively safe.
