Sign-apore

Essence of Chicken - Be your best!

Hard "Kaur" at Clarke Quay

Deepavali Holiday Specials at Starbucks

Money certainly can buy happiness - and beer! (Stella Artois)

Expensive until you try it (Which beer do you think is overpriced in Singapore?)

The Lamburghini - For the driven few!

Low crime doesn't mean no crime! (If only New York had this problem...)

Very, very peppery crabs

No illegal workers (in Tamil, Malay, Thai, and Chinese - all other instructions in english)

Crab-ilicious and Durian Delights!

Yesterday's taxi driver was...

Lau Mai is a native Singaporean. He doesn't "speak good English" (There is a poster for the official Singaporean "Speak Good English" campaign across from my apartment).

Me: Tamasek Tower please
Lau: Huh?
Me: Tamasek Tower. 8 Shenton Way.
Lau: Oh ok.
Me: How are you?
Lau: Huh?
Me: Are you well?
Lau: Oh, well. You?
Me: Yeah.
Lau: You go to work this late?
Me: I talk to California from home in the morning
Lau: Oh. You LA or San Francisco
Me: San Francisco, do you have family there?
Lau: No, I went for tour. You work with Hollywood?
Me: No, I work for an internet company.
Lau: San Francisco has the grape.
Me: I'm sorry, San Francisco has the what?
Lau: Grape. G-R-A-P-E.
Me: Oh, you mean the wine?
Lau: Yes! The wine
Me: Oh yes, they have very good wine. You can look at the grapes and then drink the wine. I miss all the wine in Singapore, we don't have as much here. Which do you prefer, LA or San Francisco?
Lau: Vancouver. I have relative in Vancouver.
Me: Oh, did you visit them?
Lau: I visited them, very nice.
Me: What time of year did you go?
Lau: 2001
Me: Ah, did you go in winter or summer?
Lau: December.
Me: Wow, were you cold?
Lau: No, it wasn't so cold.
Me: Did you see snow?
Lau: No, No, I went to Seattle.
Me: Oh, there's the building.
Lau: Oh, sorry, sorry (drives past the entrance).
Me: You can drop me here.
Lau: (Silence...$0.60 on the meter later...) Sorry, sorry.
Me: Hrm. Thanks.

Today's Taxi Driver Is....

Buck. The first non-native Singaporean taxi driver I've encountered, but who has lived in Singapore longer than almost all the others. His father brought him from China to Singapore in 1940 to avoid the Japanese invasion of China. He said Singapore was safe during the war. I knew he'd be fun to talk to when we got really excited about Tamasek Tower and said something very enthusiastic, and totally impossible to understand. Then he said "u-turn, ya? no ERP! hahaha!" (ERP is the electronic tolls for driving in certain parts of the city at certain times. Lazy drivers won't avoid them and will charge you $2-3 a pop). We were fast friends.

He lives at Bukit Timah junction (in a flat, not in the actual MRT junction, he specified). He speaks hoquin (sp?) the taiwanese dialect, but also speaks Mandarin. I said "Wo she janadaren" and then we talked about Canada ;) Oops, probably should have stuck to "Megworun." I told him I was here for 2 years and he said "and you live there for 2 years" gesturing to the Somerset. I said "no, I'm moving to HDB, Real Singapore" - he liked that a lot.

Then he said "you not married? 2 more years, work then marry, hahaha"
Then I said "xie xie" and he laughed and said goodbye in Chinese.

Vietnamese Wedding

I woke up early and went out to explore Hanoi. Everyone else from work, Joann, Joao, Charif, Armin, and Duong were all doing work, so I wandered around the old quarter of Hanoi alone.

The "Ritz" really had the best location in the whole city, right across from the ancient lake that is said to have holy giant turtles in it (last sighted in 2006). There is a temple on the lake, and willows all around it, and a second temple in the middle of the lake, where no one goes anymore.

I'd heard the legend of Vietnamese silk from many people and decided to explore the city to find this amazing craftsmanship, and I wasn't disappointed. After walking past stores selling everything from paper lanterns to original paintings, I came across a store that may have well been called "Silk dresses made for Ashley." I was hooked ;)

After trying on everything in the store, I settled on quite a few items, all of them absurdly cheap, and all of them fitting perfectly. Vietnam has so many people with great tailoring skills that a lot of the designers have their clothes made there, and the leftovers end up in tailor shops. They are modified with the particular tailor's own taste, the tailor's label is sewn in (they aren't "fakes" because they don't claim to be by any famous designer), and they find their way to Hanoi silk shops, waiting for me to buy them.

After my shopping extravaganza, I rushed back to the hotel to change for the wedding, which was at 5 o'clock. Joann and I both hurried and then sprinted for a taxi to get us to the Fortuna hotel. I practiced some Vietnamese phrases that Spring, the girl who worked in the hotel and who kindly sat with me during my breakfast of omlette and baguette, had coached me on.

Vietnamese has more tones than Chinese, and she was impressed that I was able to parrot the phrases back to her. When we arrived at the wedding, there were 2 weddings going on because it was such an auspicious day for weddings, and Linh, the bride actually knew the other bride! Joann and I took pictures with the happy couple, wrote them wishes on a paper that was hung on a little tree, and then waited for the rest of our colleages from work to arrive (Charif and his fiancee, Tomoko, got stuck in traffic for over an hour because of the rain).

The wedding itself was very nice, but very short! The whole thing was over in less than 2 hours! Rings, procession, cake, champagne (for the bride and groom) were all done in less than 10 min! There were about 350 people (a moderate size, we were told), set up at big round tables. Apparently the really important ceremony is actually tomorrow and only immediate family are
invited- we went to the big western-style reception for everyone.

Jellyfish was the craziest thing on the menu, and my favorite item was a little buddha in the middle of the appetizer sampler (not for consumption, we discovered through trial and error...). There are also some yummy french pastries (all of the french pastries in Hanoi were superb), but we never actually saw any wedding cake - I wondered if it was a fake cake there just for the occassion of cutting the cake. Duong and one of Linh's friends from college in England translated all of the announcements for us. Linh floated the room and sat at our table for a while, and eventually her parents and her groom's parents did the same, thanking each person for coming.

Linh changed dresses halfway through the 2 hour wedding because in Vietnamese folklore, girls born her birth year are said to have 2 weddings. In order to prevent a divorce, this means that everyone who's born her year must have 2 weddings at once, and 2 of everything! So Linh had 2 dresses. If I were a wedding planner in Vietnam, I would certainly raid the records to find everyone born that year!

After the wedding, a group went out and chilled at a rooftop bar with a view of the ancient lake and drank Hanoi beer (and OK beer, but not something I would proactively seek out outside of Hanoi). At first Joann and I went to the hotel to change out of our wedding formals, and the boys went to a bar that Duong had heard was popular but had never actually been to. When Joann and I got there it was so sketchy that we joked that the guys had sold us into a brothel, and we all went to find somewhere that wasn't up 2 dirty flights of stairs with "bar" written on a metal door (see pic below...).

It rained off and on- mostly sprinkling, which was a welcome relief to the locals after the previous weeks of excessive rain. It was quite refreshing walking back to the hotel in the light rain, and the temperature was much more pleasant than Singapore, at about 71 degrees and only 70% humidity instead of 100%.

I went to sleep early so that I could be ready for our next adventure to the Silk Village - my silk adventures had just begun ;)

Typical Hanoi street scene

Me & Joann with the happy couple

Me & Linh

Linh and her flower girl

Buddha as a garnish...
Linh & her new husband Bryan!

Textile sales-cat?

"Football star" poses at the lakeview bar - Joao, Duong, Armin, and me

The super sketchy bar

Good Morning Viet Nam

A lot has happened since I last reported in ages ago and I've once again entered the stage where there is so much to write that I procrastinate because I know when I sit down, I will become chained to my blog as I attempt to write an entire novel to recount the crazy adventures of the last several weeks.

I just returned from a weekend in Hanoi, Viet Nam, where I attended the wedding of a girl from the Singapore office. The bride, Linh, does support for Vietnamese customers and lives in Singapore with her new husband. I went with 5 other people from the office to Hanoi for the festivities and it was amazing. Luckily, I kept a little journal on my blackberry while I was there, and I will copy my entries into this blog throughout this week.

Here's the entry from Day 1.

Puttin' on the "Ritz"
I arrived safely in Hanoi and am sitting in the "Ritz" hotel which is down a dirty back alley in the old city. The sign is framed by exposed hanging wires and mopeds. Despite its amusingly bad exterior (see picture below), the room itself actually seems pretty good at this point. For $14US a night, I didnt' have particularly high expectations.

Definitely not the Ritz-Carlton, but generally clean (minus some lovely black hairs in the
mini-fridge) and seemingly safe. It has these crazy windows like the "identify the criminal" one way glass that look like mirrors on the inside but apparently don't block people from outside seeing in. I think they installed the one-way glass the wrong way. I love being in places where
great ideas are executed ever so slightly incorrectly in the most amusing ways (that, along with quite a few other things, remind me of India).

Moped Propane Delivery Service
So far I love Hanoi and Vietnam because it has that same vibrancy and randomness that reminds me that its possible to get along in life just fine by doing what you have to do to get the job done. So far my favorite has been a guy carrying three rather large canisters of
propane on his scooter, one between his legs... There are scooters buzzing and beeping everywhere and that adds to the fun. There is a street vendor with a dalmation outside our hotel
alleyway, the dalmation is very well behaved.

Pho and Baguettes - A match made in Nirvana
I love the contrast of everything. There is that ironwork and architecture of those former french colonies (think New Orleans, Pondicherry, and Beirut) but the climate and historical circumstances make the buildings look pretty decrepit, which contrasts further with their ornate iron and woodwork and bright colors.

There are expensive designer shops and hawkers side by side. Pho stalls next to fancy french pastry shops. Driving through the little streets in the old city we passed stand after stand of stores selling one or two specialties (often very different scecialties- my favorite so far is bikes and fans).

There are also temples/pagodas everywhere (mostly Buddhist), strewn among the old french architecture, exposed wires in huge bunches hanging everywhere, and mercedes driving past scooters with 4 ppl on them. The combination of decrepit French buildings and open wires made Charif, my Lebanese colleague, nostalgic for home in Beirut. There are tons of shops selling colorful tiered temple offerings (in the shape of wedding cakes but in elaborate red and gold packaging) and sidewalk cafes everywhere, sometimes with only one table on the street with young people sitting on the ground, eating hot pot, wearing modern clothes and talking on cell phones. Then an old lady with a pointy straw hat will ride past on her bicycle, and the old and the new contrast again.

Socialist Republic of Viet Nam Visa on Arrival
Arriving in Vietnam was interesting. Apparently we were supposed to bring passport photos for our visas- luckily they take pics for you with their digital camera for $4 (and yes, that needs to be paid in US dollars). I totally panicked when the guy in the official communist military uniform asked for my picture.

Me:"Holy shit! Are they going to send me back! Will I be like Tom Hanks but stuck in the Vietnam airport?!"

Charif didn't have a picture either, and I sheepishly asked the customs official if we could have them taken there. He didn't seem too upset or surprised about our lack of protocol and whipped out a digital camera. He took our pics and put them into the annals of their computer system. I guess the $4 was the "stupid tax"- or perhaps more the smart tax since it was was cheaper and easier than getting real passport photos taken in Singapore, albeit intensely more stressful.

Joann, my third traveling companion, had her extra passport photos ready to go and had them stapled into her passport by the official, but Charif and I were shooed along. I never understood why some countries put a second photo in your passport- there is already a pic in your passport, why do they need 2?

Throughout the process Charif was amused by the fact that Joann and I, as Americans, also had to go through the process of acquiring visas, a process that his Lebanese passport has allowed him to enjoy every time he enters almosts any country, including the US.

Despite the "hardship" of my visa application process, I'm now the proud owner of a full page Vietnam visa with a decently-sized red communist star stamp on it - totally worth the trip itself.

Viet-What?
It was dark when we arrived, but there was very little evidence of th flooding. Everything seems perfectly normal in this part of town. The flight was more than half empty and I'm soooo glad that I came because so far I'm loving the quirky adventure and it doesn't seem dangerous at all (knocking on wood...).

So far I've also been struck by a few other things. Number one is how I know shamefully nothing about Vietnam. Basically my image of the country has been formed by Forrest Gump and Apocolypse Now. This doesn't seem like it can possibly be the same place.

I think they know that this is a common problem so they have not one but 2 in flight magazines at Vietnam Airlines, "Heritage" and "Heritage Fashion." These were simply the best in-flight magazines I've ever read (taken with the grain of salt that they include quite a bit of Communist propaganda). I was really tempted to take them, and I might sneak them on the flight home. They do say they're complimentary, but I wouldn't want to deprive future passengers of the deep insights they offer...

They had all sorts of cultural and historical information and included articles, short stories, and poems by their readers. Each section was repeated twice in a row, once in Vietnamese
and once in English, but each section had different pictures. There were some fascinating articles.

One followed the history of Hanoi in the 20th century from the French colonial days through the August Revolution, the "American Invasion" and modern times, all through what went on in one house in the old quarter of the city.

Welcome to Iraqi Airlines Flight 238 from New York to Baghdad. We hope you enjoy your desert safari holiday today, November 10, 2038.
Another told the story (unbiased, I'm sure...) of one of the key leaders of the communist government over the last 40 years, named Madame Binh. I wish I knew enough history to compare and contrast the Vietamese version of the "American Invasion" with the American version of the "Vietnam War." In the car from the airport, Charif asked Joann and I if we felt weird being American in Vietnam, and after thinking about it for a while, I realized that I actually do. I started feeling weird waiting for the plane, and the feeling grew as I got closer and closer to Vietnam.

What I couldn't stop thinking about was that many people are old enough to remember when our countrymen napalmed them. Sorry guys. We napalmed you and had no idea that you have this
vibrant ancient colorful culture and that you're a country full of human beings who have the same feelings as us. I wonder if in 30 years, my children could be on an Iraqi Airlines flight on their way to some desert safari and feel something similar. The idea seems so preposterous.

We hereby sentence you to death by elephant squashing
My favorite article in the in flight magazine was one that gave a little blurb of history about the people who have a bunch of stuff named after them. My favorite story, which should totally be made into a major motion picture goes as follows (I actually took notes with a pen on the back of my hotel confirmation because I was so inspired on the flight):

Bui Thi Xuan was a female general during the tay son
rebellion(1771-1802). They say she saved her future husband from a
tiger attack (story disappointingly lacks details on this).she was an
expert at martial arts and helped the tay son army train elephants for
battle. She led an army of 5000 men against the nguyen army. In 1802
she and her husband were captured. He was decapitated and she was
executed by being squashed to death by an elephant.

Now seriously, I can't make this stuff up. I don't know why fiction writers even bother! They should just go study some history! Guy fawkes standing in front of the gunpowder waiting to get caught under parliament, death by elephant squishing- truth is definitely stranger than fiction.

Tehehe, that guy fell off a mountain...
The flight was generally nicer than expected. I ate fish curry (better than expected) and tropical fruit (lychee, pineapple, and watermelon), and potato salad with pastrami (odd pairing indeed).

There were 2 americans in front of me who kept asking the stewardess if the wine was free. She was confused, I think partly because of the language barrier and partly because pretty much every legitimate Asian airline has free booze.

They had a few TVs that came out of the ceiling and showed what I believe may have been the reject pile from 'Americas Funniest Home Videos' where instead of the funny "oh, they're not that injured..." You're like "holy shit, did that guy just get killed?" One clip had a guy falling down a mountain. No getting up and laughing, just falling off a mountain and then onto the next video of a parachute that doesn't open. The Americans in front of me were laughing pretty loudly at these. Ho hum, my countrymen.

Barack Who?
Speaking of countrymen, I grabbed a copy of the Vietnamese newspaper with the Barack Obama headline. That should certainly be a unique souvenir- who needs the New York Times when you can have the Thanhnien Instead?

The best part of the Vietnamese paper? Barack Obama wasn't even the top story! In fact, the story was on the BACK page. Following 20 pages of pictures of communist officials giving speeches and children posing in school. It may have been one of the few newspapers in the world that didn't have a Barack Obama top story.

What a unique experience I'll always associate with this historical moment. More to come on the adventure in tomorrow's blog post.

"Puttin' on the Ritz"

Dalmation street vendor outside "The Ritz"

Death by elephant-squishing

Today the world has changed

Everyone is excited. On the other side of the world. People are cheering, watching in anticipation, Americans, Singaporeans, Brits, Aussies unite to watch Obama give his speech.

Today isn't just for America, it's for the world. But it's not the end, it needs to be the beginning. Let the real work begin.

Today's Taxi Driver is...

Tu Hwa. A Chinese Singaporean. I think the Chinese drivers are the hardest to understand. I asked him how he was doing and he went into a long explanation about how the traffic is really bad today because a road is closed because of something in Little India. I think he thought I asked him "how's the traffic today."

When I asked him if he was Singaporean he told me he moved here in 1959 from China and that immigrants aren't allowed to drive taxis as a government rule. Apparently you have to have lived in Singapore for at least 10 years before you're allowed to drive one. I don't think there would be any taxi drivers in New York if that was a rule there...

Then I said "Ni hao" and he got really excited and started speaking Chinese. I said "Wo she megworun" and was out of Chinese phrases, and he asked me if I studied it or learned from my friends. I told him I just learned from my friends and he told me he was learning from his friend how to speak with a Beijing accent, so I said "Ni her" ("ni hao" with a Beijing accent) which he loved. So he decided to teach me some more chinese to impress my friends and to bargain:) He was laughing and teaching me how to say "duo shao chien" ("How much does it cost") - he said "you go to chinatown and say this to shopkeeper and they will go (insert surprised face)...oh! you speak chinese!" My thoughts exactly.

And so I said "xie xie" and hopped out. These chats are totally worth $5 a day.

Out my window

Me & Skye - shopping and eating - the top Singaporean passtimes

Today's Taxi Driver is...

Ahaswamy. A Tamil Singaporean. He was very, very similar to many of the South Indians I met in India. Here's how our conversation went:

Me: "Tamasek Tower Please"
Him: "Somerset Tower?"
Me: "No Tamasek Tower"
Him: (laughing and shaking his head wildly) "Tamasek Tower, not Somerset Tower! I thought you said Somerset Tower! There's no Somerset Tower just Tamasek Tower (laughter and head bobbing continues)... Somerset Tower isn't a tower...Tamasek Tower not Somerset Tower...Tamasek..."
Me: "Where are you from?"
Him: "Singapore. Where are you from?"
Me: "I'm from California, but I live in Singapore now."
Him: "Does America have a black president or a white president?"
Me: "We haven't had the election yet."
Him: "Do you want black president or white president?"
Me: "I would like Barack Obama to win."
Him: (laughing and bobbing his head): "Barack Obama. The muslims like him. They want him to win. If he wins more muslims will go to america. they will blow things up. I like george bush. muslims are afraid of him...he got sadaam hussein...hahaha"
Me: "hmm" (the non-committal "oh" of "hmm, I'm just going to let you keep talking because there's no point in arguing...").
Him: "Are there more black people or white people in america?"
Me: "There are more white people."
Him: "How can the president be black if he is a minority?"
Me: "People like his ideas enough that they don't care about his color."
Him: (pause, thinking...) "who were the first people in america, black people or white people?"
Me: "there were natives there first"
Him: "oh the red indians....who discovered america? Marco polo?"
Me: "No, Christopher Columbus."
Him: "Was he Spanish?"
Me: "He was Italian but he sailed for Spain."
Him: "Captain Cook discovered Australia. Australia is a big country."
Me: "Yes it is...Do you speak Tamil?"
Him: "Yes, Tamil."
Me: "Nandri."
Him: "Ooohhh. How you know Tamil?"
Me: "I lived in India for 6 months."
Him: "Oh. Not very long...where were you?"
Me: "Hyderabad...but I went to Chennai twice." (They speak Tamil in Chennai)
Him: "They don't speak Tamil in Hyderabad...it's Telugu..."
Me: "yeah. Baunava ("How are you" in Telugu)."
Him: (laughing) "Lots of languages in India. India small country lots of people. Australia big country little people."
Car pulls up. Me: "Nandri."

Yesterday's Taxi Driver was...

Muskatim. A native Singaporean whose parents immigrated from Indonesia in the 1950's when immigration between Malaysia, Singapore, and Indonesia was more open. He went to Indonesia in June for the first time and visited his family's traditional village at the bottom of a volcano. We drove through Chinatown, where he said mostly tourists go. The best thing to buy there is souvenirs, and you should bargain or you'll get fleeced. You can also buy guns there, if you can get the permit. Permits are issued to rich people who need them for hunting trips to Indonesia and Malaysia, but are apparently also to people involved in certain industries such as running casinos...

Singapore Sunrise

I just watched the sunrise on my second day in Singapore and realized - I live in Singapore now!

On my first night I went with a huge group from the office, including the entire Thai language team, to their favorite Thai restaurant in Singapore. I love how multi-cultural Singapore is - our table had people from Singapore, China, India, Thailand, Vietnam, New Zealand, Lebanon, Japan, and the US. I sat next to a girl from Thaliand named Mook and a guy from Chennai named Chandra. Chandra and I talked about India and we played a word game with Charif (another friend from the office - see Singapore blog entry from May) and his fiancee Tomoko (from Japan), where we would hold a conversation and each person had to answer their part in a different language. We went through about 10 languages including English, Hindi, Arabic, Italian, Chinese, French, Russian, Malay and Tamil.

I think all of Singapore has a college dorm/camp atmosphere where there are so many foreigners and visitors all the time that everyone is always out to meet new people - a great way to make lots of fun and interesting friends! Oh, and the Thai restaurant had a framed headshot of Keanu Reeves next to a picture of the Thai royal family. I love Singapore.

I bought my easypass for the MRT (subway) - I love how efficient Singapore is. You buy one card that you can keep in your wallet and just add money to whenever. You don't even have to put it in a machine, you just need to beep it. And lucky for me, my Kate Spade wallet that I bought in Hong Kong last year at Pacific Place has a little place for your public transport card because it was specially marketed for Hong Kong, which uses a similar public transport system (but they call theirs the much cooler "Octopus"). I think I'm officially Singaporean now that I have my permanent MRT pass :)

I chatted up the taxi driver again. I love talking to taxi drivers and started to make it a pattern in Sydney. They're always really interesting, and almost always immigrants from all over the world. I'm going to start a series in my blog wherein I talk to every taxi driver for the length of my journey and report back.

Last night's driver was caucasian but had a singlish accent! I asked him where he was from and he said "I get to ask you those questions" (!) So I played along and he told me how international Singapore is, and I told him that I moved to Singapore today. He told me he speaks Malay and Chinese, and I told him I speak English, French, Italian, Russian and Hindi. Then he told me I was very smart and we talked about how I studied music and how Singapore will be a great place to learn more languages. Then when we got to my place he wished me luck, said "god bless you" and handed me a pamphlet about Christianity called "good news..." I didn't catch his name which is too bad because it could have given me a clue as to his origin - is he one of the rare 'native' caucasian Singaporeans whose ancestors moved here 200 years ago as traders? Either way, the cartoon Christianity pamphlet, featuring an eskimo, a boy in a sumbraro, a boy in a fez, a boy in a chinese straw hat, a boy in ancient egyptian (?) clothes, and a girl in a german beer-garden outfit in English and Chinese was totally worth it.

I then enjoyed my first experience grocery shopping in Singapore at a Japanese grocery chain called 'Meidi-ya." Half the store was also occupied with freezer containers of non-descript packaged items with labeling in Japanese. Walking around I just thought "Wow, I'm finally in Asia!" The other half of the store was made up of a hodge-podge of imported items from around the world. My favorite items for sale were "silky tofu," "pickled leeks" and "gourmet Doritos." I wonder if gourmet Doritos come with gourmet bean dip? Perhaps I should host a party and offer my guests gourmet Doritos as an entree - they are, after all, imported...

Off to try to find my way to the MRT station for work now!

Dinner at 'First Thai'

Keanu fans of the world unite...

Christian pamphlet from "I ask you those questions" taxi driver

View from my apartment at night

View from my new desk at work

Ta, Cheers & More to My Aussie Mates

Royal National Park

Last yummy dessert at the Lindt chocolate cafe with Shaheen

Sea Bay Pizza with Emma and Ryan - sooooo many dumplings

Last day in Oz - Almost surfing at Manly with Victoria (ended up swimming instead ;)

Last dinner in Oz with Jenn, Carlos, and Gabriel in Newtown - last Aussie fish n' chips!

Yesterday I moved to Singapore. I don't know how many people can say that! It sounds quite exotic to me :)

In the Aussie (and 'Strine') spirit, as I was leaving Australia after 5 amazing weeks, I found myself thinking "Bloody Oath, are you taking the mickey outta me?" to so many things. Here are the Top 10:

1. Bloody Oath! I've been here 5 weeks! Does Australia time go faster? I feel like it's passed by in a blink!
2. Bloody Oath! Everyone so incredibly friendly, awesome and welcoming!
   
3. Bloody Oath! I only had 1 pavlova the entire time I was there- for shame!
4. Bloody Oath! Vegemite still tastes as bad as it did the first time I tried it (not a taste I'm acquiring...)
5. Bloody Oath! There was an entire fridge of beer in the office that lasted for 4 days without being emptied!
6. Bloody Oath! I won't get to watch the funny little train take tourists the 300 metres around Darling Harbour anymore!
7. Bloody Oath! After 5 weeks the only words I can say with a semi-convincing Australian accent are "G'Day" and "Pavlova."
8. Bloody Oath! What an amazing group of people here, I can't believe I'll no longer be able to see them every day!
9. Bloody Oath! I've met so many amazing mates!
   
10. Bloody Oath! I'm gonna miss it!
    

I also want to give a special shout out to Jenn, Kate, Shaheen, Tristan, and many more people who went out of their ways to help me make the most of my time in Australia. From monsoonal beach picnics, to watching footie with the mates, to haunted hotels and margaritas at Orbit, to an amazing evening on the water and so many other things- I had an amazing time in Oz.

If you enjoy my meagre attempts at Strine, you may also enjoy my Strine Story for Beddy-Byes that I wrote in Perth with the help of my best Aussie mates :)

But for now, I must close my Australian session, so that I can get onto the next great adventure - I moved to Singapore today!

The Wonderful Penguins of Oz

"Oh we're off to see the penguins, the wonderful penguins of Oz...."

Who saw wild penguins? I did!

At dusk, thousands of little midnight-blue penguins came popping up out of the water in little groups. Waddle, waddle, waddle...plop.

Phillip Island, about 2 hours from Melbourne, is the home of the smallest species of the 28 species of penguins. Every night, after swimming around and eating all day, they come waddling into shore at dusk and burrow into holes in the ground to sleep.

In September, like a high school prom, they waddle out of the water awkwardly, wondering if they're going to find that special someone, groom themselves carefully, fight each other by slapping each other with their little flippers, and then pair up and make cooing sounds in the tall grass before they retire for the evening into their holes.

I learned all of these things firsthand when I went to Phillip Island last weekend while I was in Melbourne. I also went to a koala preserve where they have boardwalks through the eucalyptus trees so that you can get right up close to them in their natural habitat - and boy do you get close! I love that in Australia you can just drive a few miles from the city and go see koalas and penguins in the wild!


I spent my Friday night watching Footie with a bloke from the office and his mates while eating pizza and drinking Cooper's :) I was told by one bloke that I speak with a 'twang.'

I am now an expert in Aussie Football. Here are the most important things to note about Aussie Rules Football:

Aussie rules are a combination of rules from every sport. You can drop kick the ball like soccer, hit the ball like serving a volleyball, you have to dribble the ball every so often like basketball because traveling is against the rules, and you have to get it between the posts like soccer, and the guys beat each other up like rugby. I'm still trying to find the rule from cricket, but I'm sure that there is one. Also, the field is shaped like a football - how awesome is that? Oh, and the players wear really short shorts. The game is really fast-paced like soccer and basketball, a definite step up from boring American football.

I then retired to my hotel from the Shining (see picture below for proof) where I was awakened in the middle of the night to a child screaming in the hallway (or a ghost child, didn't feel like finding out..).

On Saturday I went to Phillip Island with a friend who came down from Sydney, and we had very dramatic weather - excellent for picture-taking and penguins. On Sunday, we went to the Great Ocean Road and found a town that had an entire shopping center devoted to surfing- Every single store in the mall was a surf shop! And yet, once again, I love Australia because even in the surfing town, there were cafes everywhere serving yummy food and fancy coffee drinks, to enjoy while you watch people in wetsuits pass.

Now I'm back in Sydney and I only have one more week! I can't believe it! How has the time passed this quickly? I demand a recount!

I went on a harbour cruise with my office-mates last night around Sydney Harbour. The boat showed up half an hour late - just enough time for everyone to have moved to the bar by the wharf to get the party started.

We hired some salsa dancers to do a demonstration and it turned out that our boat had absolutely zero space for dancing and they ended up dancing around the seating area in las vagas-style feather hat-things and frilly teeny-weeny bikinis. But, this really just made the whole thing more interesting (this plus the free-flowing alcohol available at all Australian parties).

I managed to sneak away before a group headed out for a late-night pub crawl after the boat returned to the King Street wharf by the office. Alas, I could have had some even better stories, but then I'd be too tired and hungover to write them down ;)

Me & Jenn in Melbourne

Sunset from the office on the 27th floor - Melbourne

Phillip Island

Jumping at the beach - Phillip Island

All work and no play make Jack a dull boy....The "Shining" Hotel in Melbourne

Koala conservation center - Phillip Island

Me & my mates - Jenn & Victoria on the Harbour Cruise

Melbourne Madness

Reporting in from the office in Melbourne. It’s Friday night and we had a lovely thunder storm, which created amazing views of the harbour from our office on the 27th floor. I’m currently watching the sunset over the river.

I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the chance to talk about half the crazy things I’ve done in the last week. I have, however, discovered an excellent term to describe myself that I hope to perpetuate- I’m a stuff-ologist. I like thinking about stuff. Ideas, languages, history, philosophy, urban legends, superstitions, swear words, bad jokes- all float around me and get absorbed into my stuffology collection.

I arrived at 6am almost two weeks ago. I got to the apartment in downtown Sydney and, since it was afternoon California time, and I had managed to sleep for 9 hours of the 14 hour flight (thank god!), I immediately began unpacking. Rupa, one of my favourite friends in the whole world (see HyderabadAdventures), who was visiting Sydney from India, met me at 8am in the morning and we just lay around the apartment and caught up on a years worth of stuff.

Eventually we mobilized and took the underground to Circular Quay and had an exceedingly expensive coffee and muffin overlooking the opera house and Harbour Bridge. Then we hopped a ferry to Manly beach, where I got to experience the joy of a ferry going across “abnormally large swells” ie like those pirate ships rides at amusement parks that swing back and forth, except actually on water. Luckily, I wasn’t sitting near people who get motion sickness, or else it could have gotten ugly- “Welcome to Sydney, blaaaaaahhhhh…”

Rupa and I walked around the beach, which had such rough surf that it was closed to swimmers, and watched the best of the best surfers catching 20 ft waves. The water was still too cold to enjoy, but the bright sun and turquoise colour made it so enticing that we spent the afternoon tiptoeing up, getting our feet wet, squealing, and running away.

I began my Australian health food diet with a meal of fish and chips and beer, followed up by a double chocolate gelato at the ferry terminal. This is a diet that, against all efforts, I have managed to maintain over the last two weeks, and have only been saved from the fate of ultimate blob-dom by the fact that Sydney is an easily walkable city and I don’t have a car to tempt me into driving anywhere.


I spent my first week hanging out with Rupa as much as possible and met all the other ex-pats currently in Sydney (ex-pats doesn’t really sound right when they’re not in a 3rd world country) – a few peeps from Hyderabad, Shaheen and Sandeep, Emma (my British counterpart at work who is also moving to Singapore) and her Canadian husband, Ryan, and another American, Eric. The group was smaller than the hoards of foreigners in India, but still had the fun dynamic of camp or a freshman dorm, where everyone is foreign and sharing the same experience, even though they are coming from such different places.

I remembered how much fun it was in Oxford and India to be in a group of people like this who can have the “tehehe, you call those thongs? Thongs means something else at home….” conversations.

I’m now off to watch Australian football and eat pizza with some people from the office. I’m sure that this is will be a prime opportunity for me to absorb more stuff into my stuffology portfolio.

Back in the Land of Oz

“Thank you for flying Virgin Blue. We’re sorry that we’ve mucked up your day and we hope that the rest of your week will be better than the experience you’ve had flying with us tonight.

We thank you for being so kind and forgiving to our cabin crew and once again, we're sorry for ruining your week. Oh, and a reminder - it's bloody cold outside so you should put on a jumper if you have one.”

I love Australia.

I am sitting in a hotel room in Melbourne that’s so big that I can’t fit it into pictures – it is bigger than my aparment. I was welcomed to my room by Maria Callas singing a selection of Italian arias (including "Chichino Rossini's Senerentoler," according to the local radio commentator ;) which is playing on the local classical radio station. It was so loud that I actually went downstairs and ask them to call the room because I was afraid there was someone else in the room – what hotel plays Maria Callas as their welcome music? The hotel, a historical landmark that is almost 100 years old, is so big that it was at least a quarter mile walk between the “lift” and my room. I love being in the only country in the world where 100 years old seems even older than it does in the US.

I am hoping that the hotel does not turn out to be as haunted as it looks, because right now it is making the Vultura Negra in Transylvania seem like a bright and cheery place. And yet each room has a personal espresso maker and a view of downtown - I love Australia.


I've done another whirlwind month on three continents - From India, back to California, to Australia. With two suitcases in tow, I have headed over to Asia Pacific for the long haul, and I've been so busy that I haven't had time to write!

I've been in Sydney for a week and a half, taking in the early spring weather of 75 degrees and sunny, and have already managed to put my feet in the still-freezing water at both of Sydney's main beaches (Bondi and Manly), to pay a visit to the good ol' cat-sized bats in the botanical gardens, to make and eat a pavlova, and to eat and/or drink some form of rich chocolate every night.

Did I mention I love Australia?

I first remembered how much I love Australia the second I got on the Qantas flight from San Francisco and a cheery flight steward handed me a menu in my economy class seat with a 'Ta' (a word with multiple meanind including 'thanks,' 'you're welcome' and 'good-bye'). Even though a part of me was pawing at the stairway to business class upstairs (mostly the part that wouldn't be able to stretch out flat for the next 24 hours), another part of me enjoyed the flight more than Singapore's business class because of the difference in attitude among the passengers. Singapore's business class from Singapore through Hong Kong to San Francisco was full of serious, stressed-out middle-aged men in dark suits drinking and then passing out to avoid the stress of their stressful business lives. Qantas economy class was full of Americans on vacation to Australia and Australians returning home to their lovely, beach and chocolate-shop filled country after a holiday in the US.

Every time I come to Australia (this is my third time), I am stuck by how bright the sun is, how yummy the pastries are, and how cheery the people are. All excellent traits in my book.

However, as it is 11:30pm and I have work tomorrow, I must turn off Maria and retreat to bed to let the ghosts of the haunted hotel come find me so that I can have something to write about tomorrow.

The Expert Guide to Shopping in Hyderabad

By popular demand and with excellent feedback from visitors from Dublin to Sao Paolo, from to Sydney to Buenos Aires, from California to Tokyo, I bring you:

Ashley’s Expert Guide to Shopping in Hyderabad

(You learn a thing or two shopping in Hyderabad for 6 months…)

Fixed Price Stores:

These are stores where bargaining is as acceptable as it is in an American shopping mall (i.e. you’ll receive a chuckle at the notion).

Hyderabad Central: Great selection, moderate prices (great prices for the quality). Best place for a ‘one stop shop.’ Includes an extensive ‘Ethnic’ section as well as western and ‘fusion’ styles.

Neeru’s Elite (across from City Center Mall): The best place to get top quality formals including sarees and lahengas, but also one of the most expensive. Consistently good quality, huge selection of men’s and women’s formals, as well as a good salwar kameez selection and occasionally some ‘fusion’ fashions.

City Center: Looks kind of depressing, but is possibly the ‘malliest mall’ in Hyderabad. The best place to get ‘fusion’ clothing for women. Globus has ethnic, fusion, and western sections and Chemistry is a new Bombay chain that has some great western/fusion stuff, but at western prices (shirts for $30-40 US, dresses for $50-70 US). Globus is cheaper, but Chemistry has better quality.

FabIndia: Best for linens and clothes, but also contains an interesting random ‘organic’ section with things like soap and dried food. The clothing contains muted colors and avoids the bling of most other Indian clothing stores. More expensive than other retailers of equal quality (HYD Central, Neeru’s), but the selection of muted colors can’t be found elsewhere.

Metro Shoes Bombay: Best selection and quality, I bought several pairs here a year ago, and they are the only shoes I bought in India that haven’t broken yet. There are easily over 100 open-toed women’s shoes to choose from, including many western and Indian styles. They also carry some western brands like Levi’s and Geoxx. Most women’s shoes run 800-1400 Rs.

Levi’s (Jubilee Hills Location): Biggest selection of Levi’s in Hyderabad, this store is pretty big for Levi’s even compared to Levi’s stores in Europe. It sells all of the Levi’s designs from the European stores at 1/3 -> ½ the price. New jeans cost 2000 Rs ($50 US).

“Fixed Price Stores”:

These stores are “fixed price” because they have price tags but are willing to give discounts, especially for bulk purchases and/or purchases of expensive items. Approach bargaining with the ‘Is there a discount? What about bulk discounts?’ phrasing, since they may give the ‘this is a fixed price store’ line. Rest assured, they have given some hefty discounts in the past, despite the effectively optional price tags.

Saga: The best quality scarves and pashminas I’ve seen anywhere in India, with prices to match. Run by Kashmiris, the head salesman made me Kashmiri mint tea with bottled water and discussed Kashmiri culture for an hour before giving me a 40% discount on two pashminas (* queue ‘results not normal’ disclaimer, most people get 5% - 10% off). They also sell tchotchkes and carpets (they will try to sell you a carpet), but the tchotchkes you can buy elsewhere for significantly cheaper prices and equal quality. Ask for a discount, especially if you buy more than one, even if it is going to be a ‘lifetime gift’ as the salesman likes to put it. If you enjoy textiles you should ask to see the 40,000 Rs pashmina/scarf – it has the most amazing craftsmanship I’ve ever seen.

Maglam: This store, in an old house, has multiple stories of tchotchkes ranging from hookas to place settings to bed linens to elephant statues. If it is a common tchotchke sold in India, it is probably sold in this store. The prices are usually significantly higher than you would pay almost anywhere else, but it is easy to get a lot of things at once with reasonable quality. They most definitely will bargain, especially for bulk discounts – the more you spend the better discount you should shoot for.

Swagat: Popular ex-pat place to buy pearls and jewelry, this place has good quality and hefty discounts (although they are ‘discounts’ on marked-up prices). This doesn’t have a ‘market’ atmosphere, but bargaining is required or you will get fleeced. Try to go with someone knowledgeable about quality.

Markets:

Full price is for suckers.

Shilparamam: If you have time, you should go here first and last. First so that you can see what they have that you want and get an idea for the cost so that if you see the items at fixed price stores later, you’ll know if it is a good price. And last because this has the most extensive selection of Indian crafts (textiles, wooden toys, folk art) in Hyderabad. They also sell clothes but you can get better quality at Hyderabad Central without the hassle. You MUST bargain here or you will get fleeced, and the ‘cut their price in half’ strategy from other parts of the world doesn’t apply either. You can frequently get the items for a quarter of their starting price, and they often will laugh at you after you pay them a 200% inflated price. Many stalls sell the same things, so shop around, and the ‘he’s selling it for X’ is often very effective. You should pay between 100-300 Rs for scarves here, depending on the quality. You should NOT pay more than 400 Rs, even for the ‘highest’ quality that they have. If you want to pay more than that, you can get better quality from Hyderabad Central and Saga.

Charminar: Hyderabad’s historic muslim bazaar in the old city, this is often better as a site-seeing event rather than a shopping event because many people find this area overwhelming with the crowds and beggars. Don’t buy pearls here unless you are with someone you know and trust who has a good sense for quality and excellent bargaining talent. This is Hyderabad’s most famous place to buy bangles, and you should bargain, bargain, bargain. You will do significantly better if you learn phrases in Hindi/Urdu, and you should NOT pay more for bangles than you would pay at home. Some German tourists I know spent $30 US on one bangle, which was possibly the biggest rip off I’ve heard of. Glass bangles should cost no more than 3 Rs each at the highest, highest end. I got two bangles per rupee when I went to Charminar in a burkha with a friend from the office, that means that I got 1000 bangles for 500 Rs ($12.50 US). Clay bangles will cost more, and you will be upsold on them because of the high profit margin. Just remember, you can sometimes buy 1000 glass bangles for the price of 1 or 2 clay bangles. Climb the Charminar monument to get a good view of the bazaar from above (100 Rs for foreigners).

Key Shopping Phrases in Hyderabad:

Hydrabadi Hindi/Urdu:

Interesting fact: The Muslims in Hyderabad typically speak Hindi, while the Hindus typically do not. The Hindus typically speak Telugu, a South Indian language written in a unique script that is, and that I am told is the second largest native language in India. Telugu is also the official language of the State of Andhra Pradesh, of which Hyderabad is the capital. When you arrive in Hyderabad, the signs are often written in English, Telugu, and Urdu script (which looks like Arabic).

Pre-bargaining optional bonding time:

Aap kaise hai?

How are you?

MaiN* teek hoong.

I’m fine.

Aap ka naam kya hai?

What’s your name?

Mera naam ___ hai.

My name is ___.

Ja-i-ye.

Please go.

The meaty (non-veg) shopping stuff:

Kitne?

How much?

Asli ki mat kya hai? NahiN* firanghi mat, Hindustani mat.

What’s the real price? Not the foreign price, the Indian price.

Mujhe maloom hai ki yeh dam nahiN sahiN hai.

I know that that is not the best price.

MaiN Hyderabad meN ek/do/teen mahine raha kur ai hoong.

I have been in Hyderabad for one/two/three months. (recommended to gain credibility).

MaiN hindi sikh raha (m) /rahi (f) hoong.

I’m studying (masculine/feminine) Hindi.

MaiN hindi bolta/bolti hoong nahiN bahoot accha.

I don’t speak hindi very well.

Yeh bahoot sundar hai.

It’s very beautiful.

Shukriya.

Thank you.

Pir milenge.

Au revoir/Good bye (implying you will meet again).

Allah hafiz (pron. Alla-feez to my ears).

Adieu/Good bye (implying something is ending or you may not see each other again soon).

*Shukriya and Allah hafiz are Urdu and wouldn’t be used by Hindu Hindi-speakers such as the people in Verinasi.

*N= nasal sound, almost silent at the end of words, but uses a French-sounding nasal that is dependant on the vowel preceding it. Most people will understand you if you just leave it off.

Telugu:

I really only know a few. Asking someone who you think is a Hindu if they speak Telugu can often open doors for you. Then you can say:

Baunava?

How are you?

Bauna.

I’m fine.

Saying anything in Telugu tends to really amuse people because it is such a random language that no one outside of Andhra Pradesh learns, especially Firanghis (white foreigners). Your efforts to speak Telugu are often emphatically appreciated.

Here is another Telugu phrase I know:

Car vacchina tarvata nakku cheppu.

Tell me when the car is here.

Often putting any English word in the place of ‘Car’ (most commonly, ‘Pizza’ ;) can ask a Telugu driver or guard to notify you when X arrives.

MaiN Hyderabad MeN HuN

Well, I'm back in India almost a year after I left. What has changed? The new airport. What hasn't changed? Everything else.

When I arrived, I was first off the plane thanks to my business class seat and ran as fast as I could to customs. Having spent the last 24 hours planning my strategy to not get stuck in the customs line for 2 hours, I wasn't going to let anything stop me from getting there first. I was done in 5 minutes and out the door of the airport in another 5 since I didn't check any luggage (in order to avoid the hour long wait for the bags to come out on the carousel, I managed to stuff everything into a briefcase and a small duffel bag).

As I walked down the stairs, a cleaning boy stared at me, turning his head to keep staring while he tried walking up the stairs, and suddenly (but not unexpectedly) tripped and fell. He kept staring. Then the 8 people working at the duty free shop in the empty airport and wearing spiffy uniforms mistook my glance for interest and called 'madame, madame...duty free? Many nice things to choose!' and I knew I was back in India.

Then I walked outside, breathed in the Hyderabad air that smells like a mix of smoke, incense and humidity, and recognized my driver right away. He also recognized me, a year later. Daram Chand is one of the Hindi-speaking Muslim drivers who I rode with half a dozen times over the 6 months I was here, and I am quite sure he didn't realize that I had ever left.

That is how time works here. It is as if time itself has slowed down to a snail's pace. Even with all of the development that has been rampant, Hyderabad is exactly the same as it was. The same potholed streets are packed full of people and traffic, sputting auto-rickshaws, sputting mopeds with families of 6 riding on them, papaya and lime stands, posters for local politicians, water buffalo, garbage-eating goats, stray dogs, workers carrying rocks on their heads, and the same beggar children who are so mal-nourished that they haven't grown since last year.

Bharat sthan bahoot dilcasp hai.


I went shopping yesterday and used my Hindi to get bargains that even impressed my driver and caused the salesman to bob his head even more virulently than normal. My exchange went something like this:

Goal: 250 each per pashmina.

Me: How Much?
Him: 750 Rupees ($15)
Me: (extreme laughter) Asli ki math kya hai? NahiN firangi Math, Hindustani Math. (No really, how much? Not foreign price, Indian price)
Him: (surprised laughter) You tell me your price.
Me: 100 rupees
Him: 100 rupees! This is 750 rupees!
Me: This is not 750 rupees! I got it for 90 rupees at Charminar!
Him: Charminar! This is not Charminar.
Me: (look in the eye, very serious) MaiN Hyderabad MeN paNch mahine reheti thi. Mujhe maloom hai ki dam nahiN sahiN hai.
(I lived in Hyderabad for 5 months. I know that this is not the best price).
Him: Ok, you tell me.
Me: 100
Him: 600
(10 minutes of numbers)
Him: 300. Final price. Not profit for me. I give to you, no profit.
Me: 2 for 400.
Him: 2 for 600
Me: That's the same as 300 each. I offer you 200 each. 2 for 400.
Him: (head shaking wildly) 250 each.
Me: Calega. (agreed)
750 -> 250 ($15 -> $6.25).


I went to dinner with Shyam, a home-grown Hyderabadi Telugu guy who I used to sit next to in the office. He was one of the first people in the Hyderabad office and I love talking to him about India.

We went to Serengeti, my favorite restaurant in Hyderabad, that happens to have a jungle theme, think 'Rainforest Cafe' except with Indian food and 2-3 waiters hovering around your table at all times waiting for you to look like you may possibly be finished eating your bite of food so that they can serve another scoop to you.

One of the most amusing things about Serengeti was that the waiters used to be dressed up like African guerillas in army fatigues - a costume so politically incorrect in so many ways - and they clearly had no idea what they were wearing and why. Sadly, someone must have pointed this fact out to them within the last year and they have changed their uniforms to be British imperialists in khaki jungle uniforms. The irony of this new uniform choice is possibly more amusing than the guerilla uniforms, since I'm pretty sure most people who go to this restaurant know what British imperialists uniforms look like, seeing as they are the uniforms the Brits wore while imperializing India.

In a moment reminiscent of the imperial era, when we left the restaurant, the valet opened the back door of Shyam's car for me...meaning that he assumed that Shyam was my driver. I said, 'Oh no, I'll be sitting up front thanks' he shrugged and bobbed his head. Modern India is a complicated place.


I am currently enjoying the entertainment of the Star Movies channel 'India's most popular English movie channel.' Star is a conglomerate that owns several channels including a new addition 'Star Cricket' ('All cricket all the time!'). The movie channel generally buys the cheapest English language movies available on the planet and advertises them as if they are good movies. I'm currently watching a made-for-TV movie called 'Dino-Croc' about a genetically engineered monster crocodile that accidentally gets set loose in a nature preserve in LA. A small boy has just snuck onto the nature preserve to find his dog and is being chased by the monster crocodile while a dramatic rendition of the choral finale of Carmina Burana plays. Run little Jimmy, Run!

Ashley's Back in Asia...And in a jetlagged stupor at the Singapore Airport

Hellllloooo! I am reporting in from the business class lounge in the Singapore Airport on my way to Hyderabad for the first time since I left India almost exactly a year ago. I am flying business class for the first time in my life, and despite 8 hours of almost decent sleep on the plane, I am still totally loopy. Due to the loopiness factor, I plan to write this entry in stream of consciousness style in order to scientifically document the mind on jetlag. This means that I am not responsible for 5th grade level grammar mistakes, heinous misspellings (did anyone ever notice that 'heinous' does not follow the 'I before E except after C' rule?), and incorrect metaphors.

To contribute to this experiment, the only thing for me to really do for the next 8 hours while I wait for my next flight is to sit in this lounge, watch the olympics live (showing the Chinese team at practically every event in which they compete...currently watching ping pong, a sport that I'm pretty sure would not be televised in the US), study Hindi (MaiN Hindi sikh rahi huN ;) so that I can shoot the shit with peeps in Hyderabad, write this blog, and drink champagne (which shall now be referred to as 'Creativity Juice' (brought to you by the champagne and light spirits PAC...)

I got a little Sony digital recorder last week because I had a brilliant idea to interview all the interesting people I know about interesting stuff like they do on 'This American Life' and then post it on my blog in a series of conversations with people about interesting stuff (I articulated it better when I wasn't loopy). I was really gung-ho about this project, but seem to have hit a stumbling block with a) the recorder software doesn't work on my computer and b) the recordings sound like they're in a tin can, kind of like the recordings I made of myself singing Bette Midler's 'From A Distance' on my dad's old tape recorder when I was 8 years old.

This anecdote entered this blog entry because I just heard the Sony recorder beeping when I moved my bag and was reminded that it's so 'ingeniously' designed that I can't figure out how to turn the damn thing off, and seem to have recorded several segments unintentionally. Those will be thrilling to listen to later, I'm sure.

Once I figure out how to get the recordings up, I'm still planning on posting them (assuming I can figure out how to post audio recordings to blogger, another hurdle to my plan). I already have several excellent interviews just waiting to be edited and uploaded, including the story of a super cute Ukrainian Jewish boy and his family running through the airport in New York with relatives stuffing bills in their pockets on their way from Kiev to the big unknown West Hollywood, USA during the turbulent days before the fall of the Soviet Union;) I plan to contend that the tin can quality sound and bad editing contribute to the artistic message of my edgy amateur recording project- Real People. Real Stories. Real-time Recording.


But, back to the main themes I planned to talk about in this entry, my 'Theses' as a high school English teacher or college freshman TA might say. [Fragment. 10 points off]. First, I never finished writing about my trip with Yev to Bulgaria in June. Second, I'm on my way to INDIA! For the first time since I left India a year ago I'm returning to my old stomping ground, which from everything I've heard, has changed a lot in a year, including the opening of the first modern airport in India.


Yay! Two americans just won the women's all around gymnastics competition! And I can see the underwear lines of the chinese girl who hands out the medals, because she is standing right in front of the camera in a very tight skirt. Uh oh, Nastia doesn't know the words to the national anthem but tried to mouth the words anyway - way to show everyone you don't know the words! Why do they do that? If they just didn't do it at all no one would notice, but instead they always do "Oh say can you see, na na na, blah blah blah." Either way, the 4 ft tall, 10 year old on the Chinese girl came in third, and all I can say is "You Go, you 5'3, 100 pound, 'enormous' 18 year old American!"


The lounge has really cleared out, which is weird because lots of people have insanely long connections in Singapore. I surmise that they time flights like this so that more people have to shop in the airport. The cleaning staff now officially outnumbers the guests in the lounge. Speaking of staff outnumbering guests, it's possible that the flight crew outnumbered the number of passengers in business class on my flight yesterday/today.

I say yesterday/today because I have officially lost the day of August 14. I don't know where it went. I left on August 13, I arrived on August 15, 18 hours later. Did it go where all lost things go? Is it hidden with Jimmy Hoffa, the end of Mozart's Requiem Mass, my keys, and that pile of individual socks that disappear every time I do the laundry?

Here are some more brilliant observations I made earlier while on the plane. To summarize, Singapore Airlines business class is pretty wicked (in the 1980's glam rock/Ron in Harry Potter meaning of the term, not the standard dictionary, Wicked Witch of the West meaning):

• The service is pretty insane. In SFO I couldn't find the lounge so I went to the gate and asked where it was. A girl escorted me across the entire airport to get to the lounge. It was seriously a 10 minute walk each way. I thought she was going there anyway, but when we got there she turned around and headed back to the gate!
  
• I got to be on the top of the airplane! Those elusive seats you see on the top of 747's and wonder what it's like to sit there. One word: Awesome.
  
• There were about 8 rows of 4 seats each, two fully reclining seats on each side of the aisle. Window seats get a secret comparment/shelf to put stuff on.
  
• Haven't felt like a kid (or Jed Clampett) in a long time, but there were so many buttons to control the seat, I couldn't figure out how to do basic things like recline. I was like the Indian guy next to me on my flight from Hyderabad to Thailand who had never been on a plane before and couldn't figure out how to buckle his seat belt.
  
• The secret compartment next to the window where I could store all my stuff during take-off and landing was awesome. When I called it a 'secret compartment' (after fiddling around with the high tech buttons for 10 minutes trying to recline my seat) the guy next to me, an Indian businessman from Singapore, gave me the 'isn't that cute' laugh (the semi-verbal equivalent of a pat on the head)...probably the same laugh that I gave the guy who couldn't buckle his seat belt...
• The seats did this fully reclining thing that is somehow designed such that when the person in front of you reclines, they don't recline into you, they 'recline' forward. This is a truly brilliant invention, probably brought to us by the same wonderful person who designed the movie theaters where the seats are tiered enough that even if a tall guy with a big hat sits in front of you, you can still see the screen. Now that deserves a Nobel Prize.
  
• The flight crew memorized everyone's names before we got on board and they addressed me as Ms. Roof from the moment I arrived on the plane. Ms Roof can I carry your luggage for you? Ms. Roof would you like a warm towel? Ms. Roof can I offer you some champagne? I wonder how far in advance they get the passenger list, and do they get our passport photos? How would they know what we look like when we get on the plane? Do they have to spend the hour before the flight studying our names and pictures? Maybe they have secret service ear-pieces:
  
• 'Ms. Roof approaching the entrance, I repeat, Ms. Roof approaching in 10, 9, 8, 7... Jonnie-alpha-beta - INCOMING!'
  
• 'Roger That. Ms. Roof intercepted, luggage and champagne have been handled. Over.'
• '10-4. Mr. Srinivasan now approaching, I repeat Mr. Srinivasan is approaching...'
  
• Overall, I felt like the flight crew was there to seduce us. At 2am they served dinner. They asked me what I wanted from the menu and I told them I just wanted the salad. The salad in general is a good example of the calibre of Singapore Airlines business class (let's not get started thinking about what first class must be like if this is business class...). Meals are served with a personal place-setting with a table cloth, dishes, silverwear, and crystal glasses. My salad came on a chilled porcelain plate, and included scallops, greens, and cherry tomatoes. It was literally served on a silver platter. When I finished my salad they asked me if they may offer me some fresh fruit? Ice Cream? Chocolate creme brulee with fresh berries? Now seriously, even at 2am, who can refuse chocolate creme brulee with fresh berries? Then there were 10 choices of tea, a wine menu, and in the morning I had a mocha made with melted chocolate chips (I know it was made this way because there were some half melted chocolate chips at the bottom of my cup). I'm pretty sure I actually gained weight on the flight.
  
• And finally, I'm pretty sure that the stewardesses have their hair permanently plastered to their heads. I also wonder if they have official breaks to reapply their make-up, because they were like movie stars. For 14 hours their hair and make-up stayed perfectly in place. They do so much walking and baggage lifting in official uniform platform heels and skin-tight tailored outfits for 18 hours at a time - maybe flight attending should be an olympic sport! It's amazing how good looking the flight crews are in countries where discrimination based on looks is allowed and where being a flight attendant is a cool thing to do. I don't expect to see any gorgeous stewardesses on American Airlines anytime soon.

No one likes really long blog entires and I have now passed another hour. However, with 7 more hours to go until my flight, I shall continue...

I have mixed feelings about Hyderabad. I'm excited to see people, but I'm also worried that I'm going to get sick. Coming back is reminding me just how hard it is to live there, and to not even be able to brush your teeth with tap water. Which reminds me, I am now taking my second malaria pill. Right now. This instant...Ok. done. I couldn't open the water bottle, no matter how hard I tried. I ended up having to go get a different bottle, and now I'm drinking Gerolsteiner German sparkling water that tastes too much like minerals. So much for independent woman of substance... But, that's pretty much all my tired mind can wrap around at this point.

I've been studying Hindi for the last few days so I can shoot the shit with the drivers and a few other people. I'm hoping to see Sayed, my favorite driver, while I'm there. We'll see how well I can communicate with him in Hindi this time around. He pretty much taught me everything I knew, which is mostly street Hindi with a thick Urdu slant. When I say the things he taught me to people who speak classical Hindi from the north, they say chuckle and say 'where did you hear that?' I think I'm pretty much saying "What up, yo? You down with the 411?" which, we can all agree, already sounds pretty ridiculous coming from me and would sound even more hilarious coming from someone with a thick foreign accent. Luckily, as far as I know, he didn't slip any swear words into the phrases he taught me.

I think I'm doing pretty well for studying for 2 days - I even wrote myself a little essay (in the anglicized script, not in davanagari sanskrit script- one step at a time...). Simple grammar isn't that hard (famous last words from someone who hasn't had anyone check the grammar in the brilliant little essay), and it's the only language I know of other than English that uses the verb 'to be' in present tense (like "I am going" = "MaiN ja rahi huN" when "MaiN huN is "I am.' For comparison, in Italian the present tense is 'Vado,' in French it's 'Je Vais' and in Russian it's unofficially anglicized as 'ya paidoo.'). Here is my enlightening little essay for any Hindi speakers out there:

Mera naam Ashley hai. MaiN (N stands for a frenchy nasal sound) California meN reheti huN. MaiN 'IniTech' meN karti kam huN. MaiN karti kam huN kampyutareN ke sath. MaiN aksar yatra karti huN ko dur sthani. MaiN bharat (the word for India, which, when pronounced bharAt means a wedding procession...) karti pasand huN kyoNki yeh bahoot sundar hai. Log bahoot accha haiN. MaiN Hyderabad meN paNch mahine reheti thi. MaiN bahoot dosti se milti thi. MaiN hindi sikhti huN, magar maiN bolti huN nahiN accha. MaiN nahiN par sakti ya likh sakti huN. MaiN sochti huN ki hindi mushkil bhasa hai. MaiN yatra karna chahati huN meN Bharat aksar. MaiN dekhna chahati Rajasthan, Assam, aur Darjeeling. Mera manpasand sthan ki maiN ko yatra karti thi Kerala hai. MaiN Singapora meN huN.

I think for 2 days with a dictionary with a 15 page summary labelled 'Simple grammar' it's pretty good! If only I could remember this stuff when I'm talking. Instead it comes out 'MaiN globbymumbleboo hai.' Alas, perhaps some practice will make it better.

Here I am, another hour passed, and I still haven't gotten to Bulgaria. Perhaps its because I was there several months ago now, I already wrote several blog entries on the trip, and I'm loopy. I have half an unpublished entry in which I rip apart a recent article on Sofia that was published by the Chicago Tribune. Suffice it to say, even the headline was so inaccurate that it could be disproved by any unpaid intern fact checker, and they really do need to institute some sort of punishment for people who write travel articles that are grossly incorrect.

A few not grossly incorrect notes on Bulgaria:

• As the photos prove, the Black Sea is not black but instead a deep color of blue. The only thing black about the Black Sea is the color of the pollutants floating around in it.
• The currency is linked to the Euro, and therefore, although things were cheaper than Vienna, they were by no means cheap, and certainly not as cheap as they should be given that Bulgaria is in the Balkans,has a struggling economy, vast rural areas, lots of poor people, and areas of challenged infrastructure.
  
• We can also thank an influx of British tourists and holiday house owners for the lack of hospitality and general expensiveness of anything anywhere near a resort area. Bulgarians were less than friendly, and I can see why. Their entire Black Sea coast has been destroyed by the development of crappy cheap resorts to cater to western Europeans looking for a budget vacation by the sea. The very reason people went there for generations is now missing, since the natural beauty and interesting culture has been almost completely replaced with 1960's style cheap resorts built up on all the formerly beautiful beaches.
  
• As with Romania, it's tough to pontificate the 'right' strategy for how Bulgaria should develop. The new EU infrastructure including a new big airport in the Black Sea port of Burgas so that Brits don't have to see any of Bulgaria but the cheap resorts and a real highway from Sophia to Burgas, is making it easier for some Bulgarians to do business and get out of poverty. Many of the towns that are tourist stops only still exist because of the tourist dollars that keep them financially afloat. But, at what cost does this development come? Bulgarian culture is struggling to stay afloat against the influx of western culture that has grown like wildfire since Bulgaria joined the EU. Bulgaria's music, full of middle-eastern tones and reminiscent of Greek and Turkish music, now has to compete with bad German techno from the early 90's in clubs. How could anyone prefer dancing to bad German techno to those seductive middle-eastern beats?
• The Bulgarian goverment also faces challenges to development since there are still remnants of the old ways. There is a sign in customs that says 'No Payments Allowed' meaning, don't try to bribe your way through customs... There were cops everywhere pulling people over randomly, and apparently to make that custom easier, the city government of Sofia had passed a few draconian laws saying that you weren't allowed to have a dirty car in Sofia and you weren't allowed to wear sunglasses in a car (presumably because they couldn't see your eyes to see if they could make eye contact with you and pull you over).
  
• In contrast to the previous point, Bulgaria is another one of those countries that lets you do pretty much whatever you want at their precious historic sites. While it is awesome to be able to sit on Roman ruins and take funny pictures, I'm pretty sure this doesn't help preserve them. In the World Heritage Site Byzantine ruins in Nessebar, kids were playing a version of in-door soccer using the ancient pillars as bouncers to get a 'goal' ie. bounce the ball off the ancient altar. The boys did this every day of the 4 days we were there, so I assume it was a regular sport. While the fence 100 metres away from the edge of Stone Henge preventing you from pretty much seeing anything is a bit much, using ancient ruins as a soccer stadium kind of takes it to the other extreme - if only there was a happy medium.
  
• Despite any shortcomings we experienced with strangers, the Bulgarians we knew and met at the wedding were delightful and so hospitable. Irina's wedding was so much fun that it lasted over 12 hours that went by in a blink! They stayed out later than that at a club, but we were partied out. That Bulgarian music is just so easy to dance to!
• Irina's Bulgarian wedding included a civil and a relgious ceremony and a reception at the palace of culture with great views of Sofia. The civil ceremony was surprisingly nationalistic, with the woman leading it wearing a sash of the Bulgarian flag, and saluting while the Bulgarian national anthem played (can you imagine playing the star-spangled banner at your wedding? way to kill the romance!). Much of the tradition that is also included in America, like the exchanging of rings, took place during the civil ceremony (possibly a holdover from the old Soviet days when religious ceremonies weren't allowed?). Everyone brought flowers for the couple and family members danced in the street to an accordion in the alley outside the court house after the ceremony.
  
• The church ceremony in the second largest cathedral in Sofia was everything I thought an orthodox ceremony would be, with lots of incence, chanting, and walking around in a circle. There was an added bonus of some crown-wearing. Since it was in Bulgarian, I have no idea what they were saying, but the effect of the rituals in the church were pretty awesome themselves. I enjoyed the modern touch of about 100 digital cameras going off every second to get pictures of the ceremony.
  

I have passed another hour and now I am very, very, very sleepy. It's 12:27am in California and 3:37pm in Singapore. I must stay awake, but I'm getting that truck-ran-over-me feeling that comes with extreme jetlag. I don't know what I would be feeling if I hadn't slept on the plane. I might be in the corner in a fetal position. Hmm, that actually sounds kind of appealing...

I have had a total of half a glass of creativity juice, a cappuccino, a mineral water, a cream puff, and a mini-eclair and I'm ready to pass out. I shall now leave to go find a corner for the rest of my layover on this very, very long day of travel (I left for the airport 26 hours ago). I think watching olympic ping pong is the perfect ointment for my current state of mind...ping...pong...ping...pong...


Baby hot dog speaks for itself.