Perhaps it was naive of me to think I could go to Lebanon a third time in 5 months and not see something terribly shocking. I sort of figured I'd seen a lot of things in Lebanon. My family is a bunch of mountain folks. They go down into the city a lot, but know how to survive. Hunting is a big sport, but the scarred psychology that remains after a civil that rocked the nation for two decades is a fragile one. "Defense" is still in the front of the minds of many people. One of my cousins that I hadn't seen in nearly 7 years is back from working in the gulf and he likes guns. I'll just leave it at that. He likes guns. The first morning after I awoke, he showed me a pistol. He said "it's good quality, German." Upon further examination he revealed it to be a 1918 german pistol. I don't really know anything about guns (turning my back somewhat on both of my heritages...) but it looked and felt like a really nice piece of machinery. I can't condone it, but I try to appreciate something that is done with real quality. Besides, this pistol had some old cloth wrapped up and stuck in the barrel. Also, the bullets were not in the gun. So I let that one go as a nice machine. What I saw next really shocked me.
My cousin asked if I liked it. I honestly answered "yes, it's a high quality gun." So, essentially given the green light, he asked if I liked hunting. Again I answered honestly (gotta stop doing that around lebanese family...) "I don't like it myself, but I appreciate people who hunt and eat what they kill." So he pulls out a high powered gun. I don't mean a hunting rifle, I mean a military grade weapon. It was the most imposing gun I've ever been able to touch. BIG rifle. Not something I would think to use as a "deer hunting weapon" more like a Samual Jackson from Jackie Brown style "for when you absolutely got to kill ever motherf*cker in the room" style weapon. Any deer that comes up against that thing... Well...
Ok, two weapons, high caliber. Third gun! WHAT. THE. F*CK!? is that thing? I has a shoulder brace and is a much higher powered gun than either of the first two. I was almost afraid to hold it. This was an assassin's gun. Scary shit. I'm not kidding. It was scary shit. Of course, it wasn't loaded and the ammo wasn't even in the room. But holding that kind of potential destructive power is not something with which I can yet consider myself comfortable. Oh MY GOD. I think my tour of guns is finished for the day.
Ok, guns, enough. Later that morning after a beautiful breakfast in perfect weather on a perfect veranda overlooking some of the world's most gorgeous scenery, my (78 year old) aunt comes out and says something to her son and grandson. Her son begins explaining to me that they found some leftover explosives in the old wood shed. He said during the war they had to be ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice. He also explained to me that these explosives can simply be lit on fire and they do so sometimes just to light fires in the stove or whatever other common household chose is necessary. Explosives (plastic explosives) don't explode from fire alone. They require a chain reaction, and generally a powerful force to hit them first. Some my younger cousin (who'd been showing me the guns) goes to the wood shed and brings out some plastic explosives onto the deck... WHAT. THE. F*CK!?
He plays with them a little, and I tell him not to throw them or else invite disaster. He said, if these explode we'd find the stones of the house in beirut. He's right. There were some big explosives leftover. I don't know how much firepower was there, but certainly enough to knock down the house in which they currently reside (and it's a big house). My older cousin finally explains to me that during the war he had a whole stockpile of weapons including but not limited to grenades, mortars, 2000 lbs TNT, TWO bazookas (not just one bazooka, but two bazookas...), smaller explosives, and a small militia's worth of guns. After that war was end he took most of the illegal stuff (I guess it wasn't illegal in the war, because there were no laws) to the local army storage base and said he'd found it somewhere. Whatever kind of story is sufficient to get that stuff off your hands. What was leftover were some guns for "hunting" and a few forgotten plastic explosives.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Spice Plantation in Goa
Goa really does have some wonderfully touristy things. I don't know how you can go to one of the world's premiere spice growing regions and ignore the spice markets and spice plantations totally. So off we go to the spice plantation. Cab far, non Indian resident fare, pre-paid lunch, more nickel and diming, and we're there!
One of the many things I picked up in India is a real love for cardamom. I liked it before, but it's a potent spice. Bite into one of those little capsules and it's a strong flavor. Perhaps too strong. I love it. It shows up in a lot of Indian dishes and in north india in chai and I get a huge kick out of chomping right into one of those powerful spice pods! One thing I didn't know (learned on the tour, I'm such a crappy tourist sometimes) is that cardamom is one of the world's most expensive spices. I can't remember where it ranks, and I'm not sure who's ranking it, but the tour guide had said something about.
I should take some time here to mention the tour. Our tour guide was a little Indian girl (probably about 30, but she looked 15 or 16) and gave us an over rehearsed under enthused tour. Most of the tour was about herbal remedies for things rather than cook this delicious dish with this spice, but still kind of interesting. However, it was monotone, flat, too fast to retain any useful info, and jokes were thrown in there, but totally deadpan. It was a shame because I actually liked a couple of them...
For example:
Concerning Peri Peri chillies, which are amongst the hottest chillies in the world. (I think they rank just below habeneros on the scoville scale) She said "These chillies are a cure for people you don't like. Just put two in any sandwich."
No laughter. Come one people, that wasn't so terrible for a joke. It's just that our girl didn't deliver it as if she meant it.
Second example: Concerning Fenny...
"The fruit of the cashews is left to ferment, then distilled twice. And if you people drink it you will be ready for take-off."
Ok, that one is not so funny, but I like the idea that she's making a jet fuel joke about homemade rotgut!
Anyway, I got to pet an elephant, eat some love apples (about which a british woman said "I'm not feeling the love..."), eat some raw coffee beans which was a fairly bizarre experience, and see some spice I'm not accustomed to seeing grow. We were fed lunch which was quite tasty and at the end of the tour the "brave people" were allowed to try the homemade fenny. Of course both Yvonne and I wanted to try more rotgut! Actually, it wasn't bad at all. It wasn't jet fuel, it didn't smell bad, and we weren't ready for take-off. It was essentially cashew flavored vodka. I've had much worse. Also, I didn't go blind, or lose any sight (not even from blackout).
One of the many things I picked up in India is a real love for cardamom. I liked it before, but it's a potent spice. Bite into one of those little capsules and it's a strong flavor. Perhaps too strong. I love it. It shows up in a lot of Indian dishes and in north india in chai and I get a huge kick out of chomping right into one of those powerful spice pods! One thing I didn't know (learned on the tour, I'm such a crappy tourist sometimes) is that cardamom is one of the world's most expensive spices. I can't remember where it ranks, and I'm not sure who's ranking it, but the tour guide had said something about.
I should take some time here to mention the tour. Our tour guide was a little Indian girl (probably about 30, but she looked 15 or 16) and gave us an over rehearsed under enthused tour. Most of the tour was about herbal remedies for things rather than cook this delicious dish with this spice, but still kind of interesting. However, it was monotone, flat, too fast to retain any useful info, and jokes were thrown in there, but totally deadpan. It was a shame because I actually liked a couple of them...
For example:
Concerning Peri Peri chillies, which are amongst the hottest chillies in the world. (I think they rank just below habeneros on the scoville scale) She said "These chillies are a cure for people you don't like. Just put two in any sandwich."
No laughter. Come one people, that wasn't so terrible for a joke. It's just that our girl didn't deliver it as if she meant it.
Second example: Concerning Fenny...
"The fruit of the cashews is left to ferment, then distilled twice. And if you people drink it you will be ready for take-off."
Ok, that one is not so funny, but I like the idea that she's making a jet fuel joke about homemade rotgut!
Anyway, I got to pet an elephant, eat some love apples (about which a british woman said "I'm not feeling the love..."), eat some raw coffee beans which was a fairly bizarre experience, and see some spice I'm not accustomed to seeing grow. We were fed lunch which was quite tasty and at the end of the tour the "brave people" were allowed to try the homemade fenny. Of course both Yvonne and I wanted to try more rotgut! Actually, it wasn't bad at all. It wasn't jet fuel, it didn't smell bad, and we weren't ready for take-off. It was essentially cashew flavored vodka. I've had much worse. Also, I didn't go blind, or lose any sight (not even from blackout).
Monday, April 19, 2010
Making a Still (limoncello part 3)
I have no idea about the legal regulations in India, but as the saying goes...
"In India, the answer is always 'no'... unless it's 'yes.'"
I'm just assuming that perhaps I did something mildly illegal. Oh well, tons of bootleggers all around and a black market that can provide 50 bottles of whiskey at 3AM with hoards and hoards (and hordes) of drugs (and drug smugglers) I figure they won't even realize there is a moonshiner (the term is probably something else) producing liquor very quietly for personal consumption. So, how does one do this?
I have to ask for a still. "The fixer had promised the ability to get one." I couldn't get ahold of him in time (or rather he couldn't get ahold of his guy on my schedule) so I had to take matters into my own hands.
It turns out the things that are easier to get in India than a still include:
1) GUNS
2) DRUGS (any variety)
3) Sex (again, any variety).
My sister points out that this can be said to be true in the united states as well. I guess I'd contend that you can legally BUY a still in the united states too, but these items are easier to get on the black market than a still. Who knew?
So, off to MAKE a still. I have very little idea what I'm going to do or the challenges facing this particular endeavor, but this is definitely all for the sake of science! (I have no other intention than to produce high quality alcohol for scientific purposes. Definitely not for consumption, no definitely not that.)
Pressure cooker, high grade plastic tubing (copper is nearly impossible to find, plus I'd need welding equipment...) and something to affix the tubing to the pressure release valve. Pressure cooker... Expensive. Oh wait, how about the second hand store(s). We found a nice 10L cooker for Rs 700. The usual price is 750 for 5L.
Tubing... Rs 14/meter... And a nice perfectly sized affixing tool for Rs 9. Ok, we're in business. Now, how does this thing work?
Attempt one: Run the tubing up through the ceiling fixtures and across the room into a small bucket with a hole in the bottom. Put water in the bucket to cool the tube (condenser) and allow goodness to come out.
EVERYTHING IS WORKING! OH SWEET SASSY MOLASSY! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! IT'S WORKING. OH SHIT! IT'S NOT CONDENSING! F*&^ this is hot! all the alcohol is vaporizing... SHIT SHIT SHIT. Well I collected what I could. It worked.
Over the course of the week I played with ways of condensing alcohol and finally figured out what to do...
In the end I need to run the tubing actually a very short distance from the still, put as much ice as my poor freezer could make in a big bucket and put as much tubing as possible in the water. Collect the alcohol into a carboy. That ended up working. I distilled 30 L of alcohol into 3. If I'd gotten my still right the first time I might have pushed that number to 4.5 or even 5... Oh well, I distilled it.
The trick was the second distillation.
"In India, the answer is always 'no'... unless it's 'yes.'"
I'm just assuming that perhaps I did something mildly illegal. Oh well, tons of bootleggers all around and a black market that can provide 50 bottles of whiskey at 3AM with hoards and hoards (and hordes) of drugs (and drug smugglers) I figure they won't even realize there is a moonshiner (the term is probably something else) producing liquor very quietly for personal consumption. So, how does one do this?
I have to ask for a still. "The fixer had promised the ability to get one." I couldn't get ahold of him in time (or rather he couldn't get ahold of his guy on my schedule) so I had to take matters into my own hands.
It turns out the things that are easier to get in India than a still include:
1) GUNS
2) DRUGS (any variety)
3) Sex (again, any variety).
My sister points out that this can be said to be true in the united states as well. I guess I'd contend that you can legally BUY a still in the united states too, but these items are easier to get on the black market than a still. Who knew?
So, off to MAKE a still. I have very little idea what I'm going to do or the challenges facing this particular endeavor, but this is definitely all for the sake of science! (I have no other intention than to produce high quality alcohol for scientific purposes. Definitely not for consumption, no definitely not that.)
Pressure cooker, high grade plastic tubing (copper is nearly impossible to find, plus I'd need welding equipment...) and something to affix the tubing to the pressure release valve. Pressure cooker... Expensive. Oh wait, how about the second hand store(s). We found a nice 10L cooker for Rs 700. The usual price is 750 for 5L.
Tubing... Rs 14/meter... And a nice perfectly sized affixing tool for Rs 9. Ok, we're in business. Now, how does this thing work?
Attempt one: Run the tubing up through the ceiling fixtures and across the room into a small bucket with a hole in the bottom. Put water in the bucket to cool the tube (condenser) and allow goodness to come out.
EVERYTHING IS WORKING! OH SWEET SASSY MOLASSY! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! IT'S WORKING. OH SHIT! IT'S NOT CONDENSING! F*&^ this is hot! all the alcohol is vaporizing... SHIT SHIT SHIT. Well I collected what I could. It worked.
Over the course of the week I played with ways of condensing alcohol and finally figured out what to do...
In the end I need to run the tubing actually a very short distance from the still, put as much ice as my poor freezer could make in a big bucket and put as much tubing as possible in the water. Collect the alcohol into a carboy. That ended up working. I distilled 30 L of alcohol into 3. If I'd gotten my still right the first time I might have pushed that number to 4.5 or even 5... Oh well, I distilled it.
The trick was the second distillation.
Stranded in Dubai
My flight out of India to Amsterdam was to take the following route:
Chennai to Dubai
Dubai to Bucharest
Bucharest to Amsterdam
I went like this
Chennai to Dubai no problems whatsoever (except for excess baggage charges, what are you going to do?).
I landed in Dubai at 12:25 AM. Romania closed their air space at 12:00 AM. Oops.
When I left India, my flight to bucharest was still on and expecting to depart with no problems. So I land in Dubai. I collect my bags, transfer flights, and oh...
I end up talking to a lebanese lady in the airport at "information desk." I knew she was lebanese by the way she approached my problem.
"information": There is no flight. Why you are trying to check in?
exasperated traveler: I know, but where is the airline?
info: the flight is canceled.
me: I KNOW that. I can read. I want to talk to the airline.
info: but the flight is canceled, why will you talk to them?
me: Ok, let's just say hypothetically speaking... that the flight were NOT canceled.
info: (interrupting) but it is canceled, so why do you care?
me: You didn't let me finish. Where WOULD I check in, if the flight WEREN'T canceled?
info: But it is canceled, there is no flight.
me: Are you lebanese?
info: Yes, why?
me: You talk like you're lebanese.
info: (confused look).
So I go to 20 other people asking about what I can. I was told to "go to my hotel" by "information" I told her, I'm trying, but my hotel is in amsterdam. That relit the fire of "you can't get to amsterdam." THAT LADY, was an idiot... But she was also definitely lebanese in being so bound to immediate practicality that the longer term solution to the problem was of negligible importance. A bit annoying for me. I actually ratted her out later. A man going around the airport talking to stranded passengers was trying to save face for customer service. He asked me if people were helpful. I told him truthfully "yes, except for a lebanese lady at information. She was the only one who didn't give me any information." HA, take that "information." Truthfully, all the airline attendants were really friendly and helpful. I speak about dubai as sort of a crappy place because it's just one big shopping mall with a couple indian neighborhoods and a building that looks like a big phallus (the biggest phallus in the world), but one thing they know IS CUSTOMER SERVICE! Well done, dubai on the customer service!
So I slept in the airport. A couple of really lovely french ladies/girls and a tunisian guy were sitting with me and the tunisian guy had no problem getting home. The french ladies booked the last two tickets to tunisia. Their plan was to boat to marseille and then train to paris. I thought it would have been fun to travel with them, but I had a shitload of luggage (my life's possessions basically) and didn't want to drag it around too much. Everything to Europe was closed. Dead, caput, nada, zero, zilch, zippo, nothing, no dice, fat chance.
So I saw that Beirut had some open flights. SURPRISE! I'm going to Beirut! I slept in the airport in dubai, got up about 10 AM (after 3 hours sleep) and bought a ticket on the 12:45 to beirut. I took Middle East Airlines (lebanon's carrier) and only had to pay $25 for baggage overages! A good result after Emirates $202 from chennai to dubai... So I went to beirut. Once there, I bought a phone card, called the only numbers I know and said I'm catching a cab to Btekhnay. Of COURSE, no one had read my email and so were all completely taken by surprise that I showed up. So, in the end I'm stranded in Btekhnay rather than Dubai. Things could DEFINITELY be worse. My third trip to Lebanon in 6 months. Not bad if I do say so myself. But I'm still on a mission for good beer and brandy. I WILL make it to belgium and gascony. I'm all over it like white on rice. Stay tuned.
Chennai to Dubai
Dubai to Bucharest
Bucharest to Amsterdam
I went like this
Chennai to Dubai no problems whatsoever (except for excess baggage charges, what are you going to do?).
I landed in Dubai at 12:25 AM. Romania closed their air space at 12:00 AM. Oops.
When I left India, my flight to bucharest was still on and expecting to depart with no problems. So I land in Dubai. I collect my bags, transfer flights, and oh...
I end up talking to a lebanese lady in the airport at "information desk." I knew she was lebanese by the way she approached my problem.
"information": There is no flight. Why you are trying to check in?
exasperated traveler: I know, but where is the airline?
info: the flight is canceled.
me: I KNOW that. I can read. I want to talk to the airline.
info: but the flight is canceled, why will you talk to them?
me: Ok, let's just say hypothetically speaking... that the flight were NOT canceled.
info: (interrupting) but it is canceled, so why do you care?
me: You didn't let me finish. Where WOULD I check in, if the flight WEREN'T canceled?
info: But it is canceled, there is no flight.
me: Are you lebanese?
info: Yes, why?
me: You talk like you're lebanese.
info: (confused look).
So I go to 20 other people asking about what I can. I was told to "go to my hotel" by "information" I told her, I'm trying, but my hotel is in amsterdam. That relit the fire of "you can't get to amsterdam." THAT LADY, was an idiot... But she was also definitely lebanese in being so bound to immediate practicality that the longer term solution to the problem was of negligible importance. A bit annoying for me. I actually ratted her out later. A man going around the airport talking to stranded passengers was trying to save face for customer service. He asked me if people were helpful. I told him truthfully "yes, except for a lebanese lady at information. She was the only one who didn't give me any information." HA, take that "information." Truthfully, all the airline attendants were really friendly and helpful. I speak about dubai as sort of a crappy place because it's just one big shopping mall with a couple indian neighborhoods and a building that looks like a big phallus (the biggest phallus in the world), but one thing they know IS CUSTOMER SERVICE! Well done, dubai on the customer service!
So I slept in the airport. A couple of really lovely french ladies/girls and a tunisian guy were sitting with me and the tunisian guy had no problem getting home. The french ladies booked the last two tickets to tunisia. Their plan was to boat to marseille and then train to paris. I thought it would have been fun to travel with them, but I had a shitload of luggage (my life's possessions basically) and didn't want to drag it around too much. Everything to Europe was closed. Dead, caput, nada, zero, zilch, zippo, nothing, no dice, fat chance.
So I saw that Beirut had some open flights. SURPRISE! I'm going to Beirut! I slept in the airport in dubai, got up about 10 AM (after 3 hours sleep) and bought a ticket on the 12:45 to beirut. I took Middle East Airlines (lebanon's carrier) and only had to pay $25 for baggage overages! A good result after Emirates $202 from chennai to dubai... So I went to beirut. Once there, I bought a phone card, called the only numbers I know and said I'm catching a cab to Btekhnay. Of COURSE, no one had read my email and so were all completely taken by surprise that I showed up. So, in the end I'm stranded in Btekhnay rather than Dubai. Things could DEFINITELY be worse. My third trip to Lebanon in 6 months. Not bad if I do say so myself. But I'm still on a mission for good beer and brandy. I WILL make it to belgium and gascony. I'm all over it like white on rice. Stay tuned.
Anjuna Flea Market
If you happen to be in Goa on a Wednesday and are looking to buy an incredible amount of cheap goods, or looking for some hippies to smoke up with, well have I got the place for YOU! Anjuna flea market! It's famous and rightly so. Lots of sit down snack joints (lots of joints for snacks...) Basically it's full of Russian and eastern european tourists and other white folk buying goods from kashmiris (shock) and tibetans (shock) and everyone else who wants to make a buck (or a few rupees) selling essentially useless crap.
We rented a cab to take us up and back, but part of the negotiation included stopping into some "coupon shops." This is a term that at first I didn't mind, but it grew ever more irritating as the trip wore on because more of our time got eaten up seeing shops selling things we didn't want to buy. But hey, we get a discount for stopping in, and the driver makes his Rs. 20 or whatever. Eventually we learned how to say, "We'll just pay you 60 more if you DON'T take us to the coupon shops." That worked a little, but the cab drivers are sort of indentured servants. If the shop owners find out that they've been driving people around and don't stop in to THEIR stores the cab driver has a harder time saving face. This is my guess. I can think of no other reason why they would be reluctant to take more money and NOT stop... Shorter time, more money...
Anyway, we got to the market. I got the driver's cell number and we set off.
Hey! Look at those shirts! Cool bags. Is that a shop selling old jimmy hendrix vinyls? No, just T-shirts. Is it just me or is Che Guevara REALLY popular here? Do they actually realize he was part of the Cuban revolution? Maybe he's just some counter-cultural icon. Hey! Look over there! They're selling trumpets!
I go to look at the trumpets, and they guy selling them tells me to pick any one and play it. I do so. It's broken. He says "1000 Rupees." I say sadly "it's broken."
He says "no problem, you pay thousand." I don't think he understands what I'm saying. I set it down and walk away looking dejected. He wonders what the problem is and chases me. "Sir, how much you give me?" I tell him again, "it doesn't work." I try to tell him "right now, it's not a trumpet." No success. "No problem sir, you give me 800." I finally walk off. He realizes that I'm actually NOT interested. I still don't think he understands that it's because the trumpet was broken. one of the tubes was pinched and it needed about $100 repair to play it. Add to that, I have no REAL desire to relearn the trumpet if it means carrying one from goa through kerala through chennai through wherever the hell else I'll go just to get it repaired before I can play it.
Hey! Look at that? What are they selling? Rocks? Yes, I think they are selling rocks. Wait, no, those are unpolished gemstones. Ah, no, they are selling jewelery and that is part of their demo. Wow, an BIG jewelery tent. Lots of Tibetans (shock). Funny thing about the Tibetans, they don't give much of a discount. I think Russell Peters (Canadian-Indian comedian) Says it best. (Concerning Chinese-Indian business relations) "You know why Chinese and Indians can't get along? It's because Chinese want to take every penny from you, and Indians don't want to spend a dime."
While I am terribly reticent to call tibetans "chinese" I think their business mentality is still similar. I think at one point (I didn't witness this directly) Yvonne asked for a discount on some bracelet and the seller acted insulted that she suggest a discount. The dealer hurriedly took back his bracelet and said, "you go now." WOW! No counter offer, nothing. Anyway, that episode over. I wandered further into the market and saw all kinds of scantily clad old hippies. I didn't expect to see women in their 50's and 60's wearing midriffs and tube tops with low rise jeans and thongs sticking out. The sight was rather unsettling to be honest. There was a restaurant WAY in the back (about a mile from the entrance) with a LIVE BAND. I hadn't seen a live in house band in India. These guys are pretty good.
Ok, time for a cold beer. What do you have? "KF sir." Oh my GOD! I'm swearing off KF. It is officially no longer considered beer! I'll have a coke. You things are bad when...
Ok, cold coke. I feel a little better. Time to go. I went away with some nice shirts, and a few too many eyefulls of women wearing things that maybe they should have thought twice about. And WAY too many eyefulls of men not wearing enough...
If you're in Goa on a Wednesday, go give it a shot.
We rented a cab to take us up and back, but part of the negotiation included stopping into some "coupon shops." This is a term that at first I didn't mind, but it grew ever more irritating as the trip wore on because more of our time got eaten up seeing shops selling things we didn't want to buy. But hey, we get a discount for stopping in, and the driver makes his Rs. 20 or whatever. Eventually we learned how to say, "We'll just pay you 60 more if you DON'T take us to the coupon shops." That worked a little, but the cab drivers are sort of indentured servants. If the shop owners find out that they've been driving people around and don't stop in to THEIR stores the cab driver has a harder time saving face. This is my guess. I can think of no other reason why they would be reluctant to take more money and NOT stop... Shorter time, more money...
Anyway, we got to the market. I got the driver's cell number and we set off.
Hey! Look at those shirts! Cool bags. Is that a shop selling old jimmy hendrix vinyls? No, just T-shirts. Is it just me or is Che Guevara REALLY popular here? Do they actually realize he was part of the Cuban revolution? Maybe he's just some counter-cultural icon. Hey! Look over there! They're selling trumpets!
I go to look at the trumpets, and they guy selling them tells me to pick any one and play it. I do so. It's broken. He says "1000 Rupees." I say sadly "it's broken."
He says "no problem, you pay thousand." I don't think he understands what I'm saying. I set it down and walk away looking dejected. He wonders what the problem is and chases me. "Sir, how much you give me?" I tell him again, "it doesn't work." I try to tell him "right now, it's not a trumpet." No success. "No problem sir, you give me 800." I finally walk off. He realizes that I'm actually NOT interested. I still don't think he understands that it's because the trumpet was broken. one of the tubes was pinched and it needed about $100 repair to play it. Add to that, I have no REAL desire to relearn the trumpet if it means carrying one from goa through kerala through chennai through wherever the hell else I'll go just to get it repaired before I can play it.
Hey! Look at that? What are they selling? Rocks? Yes, I think they are selling rocks. Wait, no, those are unpolished gemstones. Ah, no, they are selling jewelery and that is part of their demo. Wow, an BIG jewelery tent. Lots of Tibetans (shock). Funny thing about the Tibetans, they don't give much of a discount. I think Russell Peters (Canadian-Indian comedian) Says it best. (Concerning Chinese-Indian business relations) "You know why Chinese and Indians can't get along? It's because Chinese want to take every penny from you, and Indians don't want to spend a dime."
While I am terribly reticent to call tibetans "chinese" I think their business mentality is still similar. I think at one point (I didn't witness this directly) Yvonne asked for a discount on some bracelet and the seller acted insulted that she suggest a discount. The dealer hurriedly took back his bracelet and said, "you go now." WOW! No counter offer, nothing. Anyway, that episode over. I wandered further into the market and saw all kinds of scantily clad old hippies. I didn't expect to see women in their 50's and 60's wearing midriffs and tube tops with low rise jeans and thongs sticking out. The sight was rather unsettling to be honest. There was a restaurant WAY in the back (about a mile from the entrance) with a LIVE BAND. I hadn't seen a live in house band in India. These guys are pretty good.
Ok, time for a cold beer. What do you have? "KF sir." Oh my GOD! I'm swearing off KF. It is officially no longer considered beer! I'll have a coke. You things are bad when...
Ok, cold coke. I feel a little better. Time to go. I went away with some nice shirts, and a few too many eyefulls of women wearing things that maybe they should have thought twice about. And WAY too many eyefulls of men not wearing enough...
If you're in Goa on a Wednesday, go give it a shot.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Iceland's Volcano
Iceland's Volcano... It's officially messed up my travel plans too. I'm en route to Amsterdam. My route: Chennai to Dubai to Bucharest to Amsterdam. Funny thing, I thought Romania would be free from volcanic ash. Wrong. The volcano sent a second plume of smoke up into the atmosphere. I'm not really upset. It's a bit annoying, because it's gonna cost me a lot of money to get the hell out of Dubai. Funny thing, Romania shut its air space at midnight and my flight was supposed to be at 4:00 AM. Oh well. Now I've gotta figure out where I'm going next. I guess Beirut's looking good again.
So to all you travelers out there who are stranded just like myself. Fret not, the volcano probably won't erupt for more than a year straight (cf 1821). But hey, it really, really could be worse. So far, I've met a tunisian, a couple of french ladies traveling my way (sort of) and I was just chatting with a lovely older lady from Alabama on her way back to Atlanta for medical treatment. I got to talk about wine, lebanese food, and pork barbeque and the intricacies of red beans and rice. All while here in lovely dubai airport. Oh yeah, also, I got another stamp in my passport! Woo! But getting on to amsterdam... Well, that looks relatively unlikely. But hey, I've also got a nice liter of homemade hooch traveling with me somewhere... (I received a handshake for this announcement from my new alabamastani friend). Dubai's not SO bad, and also, I'll probably make an impromptu trip to beirut. Could be worse.
So to all you travelers out there who are stranded just like myself. Fret not, the volcano probably won't erupt for more than a year straight (cf 1821). But hey, it really, really could be worse. So far, I've met a tunisian, a couple of french ladies traveling my way (sort of) and I was just chatting with a lovely older lady from Alabama on her way back to Atlanta for medical treatment. I got to talk about wine, lebanese food, and pork barbeque and the intricacies of red beans and rice. All while here in lovely dubai airport. Oh yeah, also, I got another stamp in my passport! Woo! But getting on to amsterdam... Well, that looks relatively unlikely. But hey, I've also got a nice liter of homemade hooch traveling with me somewhere... (I received a handshake for this announcement from my new alabamastani friend). Dubai's not SO bad, and also, I'll probably make an impromptu trip to beirut. Could be worse.
Friday, April 16, 2010
A Bomb on the Plane
Getting from Goa to Kerala... Not as easy as I'd envisioned. No direct flights, and trains take 100 hours. So we had to fly through Bangalore. Bangalore, once again impresses! Nice airport! Free wifi! Good Dosas at the airport! I thought airport food was supposed to be crappy! Not in Bangalore, totally good dosas.
Well, the second leg of our trip was from Bangalore to Trivandrum. In fact, Trivandrum got one of the stupidest renamings in India's massive identity crisis a few years back.
The official name of trivandrum is now
Thiruvananthupuram. WT and F!? Why would you change it from a name that barely fit on signs to a name that not only doesn't fit on signs, but can't even be used in a thesis title because it's so long!? Give me a freaking break. And to top if all off, the difference in the way it's spoken is only one extra syllable, that 'an' in the middle. Give me a freakin' break. Anyway, none of this is the point. The point is that we flew on a little hopper flight on Kingfisher Air. (Yes, that same piece of shit brewery got big enough to have an airline!) Well, as soon as we reached Trivandrum we had to catch a bus up to Kollam, which is only 50 km, but 90 minutes on a bus (express bus that is). We got to our hotel a bit late, but made it nonetheless. No sooner than we'd gotten there than did we see a news ticker notice (on Kingfisher News btw) about a bomb on a kingfisher airlines plane from bangalore to trivandrum (yes they use bangalore and trivandrum in the news instead of bengaluru and thiruvananthapuram). HOLY HELL! Was it on OUR plane? Surely not? Maybe so. They reported no passengers were hurt as the bomb wasn't detonated.
As soon as I let that shock sink in, I realize that this will mean hell in a few days when we have to fly OUT of trivandrum. They are going to be extra careful with their screening. Oh man, that's not good. They are going to go forward with the same reactionary screening for which airport security is so notorious. React to something that ALREADY happened, and give no credence to what other bad things might happen. Yeesh! But for as much "screening" as they do at every indian airport, one would expect that a bomb wouldn't make it on a plane from india's 4th biggest airport. Oh India, how I love all your rules that do nothing more than aggravate honest citizens.
Well, the second leg of our trip was from Bangalore to Trivandrum. In fact, Trivandrum got one of the stupidest renamings in India's massive identity crisis a few years back.
The official name of trivandrum is now
Thiruvananthupuram. WT and F!? Why would you change it from a name that barely fit on signs to a name that not only doesn't fit on signs, but can't even be used in a thesis title because it's so long!? Give me a freaking break. And to top if all off, the difference in the way it's spoken is only one extra syllable, that 'an' in the middle. Give me a freakin' break. Anyway, none of this is the point. The point is that we flew on a little hopper flight on Kingfisher Air. (Yes, that same piece of shit brewery got big enough to have an airline!) Well, as soon as we reached Trivandrum we had to catch a bus up to Kollam, which is only 50 km, but 90 minutes on a bus (express bus that is). We got to our hotel a bit late, but made it nonetheless. No sooner than we'd gotten there than did we see a news ticker notice (on Kingfisher News btw) about a bomb on a kingfisher airlines plane from bangalore to trivandrum (yes they use bangalore and trivandrum in the news instead of bengaluru and thiruvananthapuram). HOLY HELL! Was it on OUR plane? Surely not? Maybe so. They reported no passengers were hurt as the bomb wasn't detonated.
As soon as I let that shock sink in, I realize that this will mean hell in a few days when we have to fly OUT of trivandrum. They are going to be extra careful with their screening. Oh man, that's not good. They are going to go forward with the same reactionary screening for which airport security is so notorious. React to something that ALREADY happened, and give no credence to what other bad things might happen. Yeesh! But for as much "screening" as they do at every indian airport, one would expect that a bomb wouldn't make it on a plane from india's 4th biggest airport. Oh India, how I love all your rules that do nothing more than aggravate honest citizens.
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