Kevin Maddrey Studios

Allegory of the Cave

2011-11-01T18:17:00.001-07:00

Socrates describes a group of people who have lived chained to the wall of a cave all of their lives, facing a blank wall. The people watch shadows projected on the wall by things passing in front of a fire behind them, and begin to ascribe forms to these shadows. According to Socrates, the shadows are as close as the prisoners get to viewing reality. He then explains how the philosopher is like a prisoner who is freed from the cave and comes to understand that the shadows on the wall do not make up reality at all, as he can perceive the true form of reality rather than the mere shadows seen by the prisoners.

Material List

2011-10-09T08:56:00.000-07:00

Often times I see the work of other artists and I wonder what materials they used. I'm posting this to share what works for me:

Oils Painting
paints:
rembrandt, utrecht, windsor newton, dan smith, hans holbein

colors:
titanium white
cad yellow light
cad yellow dark
cad red
alizarin crimson
ultramarine blue
burnt sienna
+ gray made from opposite colors
b.sienna + u.blue
cad orange + u.blue

These are colors that I put on my palette occasionally:
cad orange
naples yellow
burnt umber
cobalt blue

Brushes
Monarchs - flats, rounds,
Bristles - princeton, blick,

Mediums
Sometimes use terp at the start, but not much afterwards

_________________________________________

Watercolors

Paints:Daniel Smith, Windsor Newton, M. Graham, Holbein,

Brushes
Raphaël Kolinsky Red Sable Extra Pointed Round: 8
Winsor & Newton Series 7 Kolinsky Sable Pointed Round: 2
Escoda Optimo Kolinsky Sable Watercolor Brushes: 8, 6

Paper
Arches for highend - I've been using cold press, but I may start trying out hot pressed
Canson for sketches

_________________________________________

Monotypes
ink: CHARBONNL ETCHNG INK
paper: RIVES PAPER/BFK 22X30 WHT 280G
press: 9 x 12" Press by Polymetaal

_________________________________________

Sketching
Bee Paper Aquabee Super Deluxe Sketchbook
Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens

Relocating

2011-06-18T12:40:00.000-07:00

Currently, I'm in the midst of changes and will not be updating this site for a bit. If you're interested in seeing art instead of reading about it, you can click here.
Maddrey.net

Release 27.0 - June 2011 – www.Maddrey.net

2011-06-02T11:42:00.001-07:00

Greetings,

Normally, these updates coincide with the changing seasons but since it's still cold and still snowing in Tahoe, I'd figured I'd just send this out now.

The site is currently displaying some of the new finished commissions, a new mural, and a painting that I've been working on for quite a few weeks. It's a large water piece that measures 5' x 4'. This latest piece makes one want to dive right in it. The colors and movement of the water and light combined with the immense size really make this painting come to life.

More importantly though, there will be an upcoming exhibition displaying over 35 works of art at the newly reopened Historic Mono Inn. Since I am who I am, I've yet to decide on an opening date. I'm thinking I'll probably have the opening date once Tioga Pass opens up. I'll have to send out another email with the exact dates once I decide on them.

So in the mean time, enjoy viewing the new paintings because there was a lot of work put into them. You can also visit my newly opened Etsy store. Currently I'm only offering one special edition hand pulled linocut of the Yosemite area, but more will be added as soon as I get around to it.

Take care, and come make your eyes happy.

http://www.maddrey.net/

http://www.etsy.com/listing/72892709/tenaya-lake-original-hand-pulled-linocut

http://www.monoinn.com.

Grand Re-Opening of the Historic Mono Inn

2011-05-29T19:55:00.000-07:00

If you're traveling along the legendary 395 highway be sure to stop at the Historic Mono Inn. I'm currently assembling a exhibition there. The date will be announced as soon as I pick one.

Historic Mono Inn

Update on Maddrey.Net

2011-03-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

It seems that the changing of the seasons equates with another updating of Maddrey.net. and another series of paintings to appreciate. Apparently it's the year of change for many people I speak with and for me it's no different.

The exciting change out here is that this will be the first summer in a long time where I won't be living in Yosemite National Park.

Instead, I'll be staying here in Tahoe to paint at Sand Harbor and in my studio. For those of you who were looking forward to seeing my work in the Tuolumne Meadows Lodge, please stay in touch as I will be visiting the area very often and I will be continuing to work on my water series in Tuolumne. Impromptu exhibitions will still be available for the families that have come to expect it as a part of their Tuolumne experience. I'll just need a little advance notice.

Also stay in touch to find out the dates of my exhibition at the newly reopened Mono Inn which will be held this summer. For those of you visiting Tuolumne, the Mono Inn should be a definite stop not only to see the paintings but also to appreciate a little bit history and the hard work that, legendary pianist Jim O'Meally has put into this endeavor.

This past winter has been a great success in terms of painting. I've focused my energies on still life and particularly the reflective quality of silver. The highlight of the series is inspired by the dutch masters and is slightly unusual for my painting style. Other highlights of the current update include a superb example of plein air painting done at Sand Harbor as well as an interesting still life based off stuffed animals.

For those of you who have supported me and my work throughout the years in Yosemite, I thank you tremendously. You all have added to my time spent living there and I hope I was able to add to your time spent there as well. I will miss the outdoor exhibitions showcasing art on the bear boxes and dead trees. It seems less pretentious that way. For those of you who need to take a little bit of Yosemite home with them, my book is still available from my website.

As much fun as it was living there, my mind is already consumed with other projects for the summer. Currently I'm writing and illustrating my first childrens book that will be finished before the summer. The second one will be finished at the end of the summer. Also in the works for the next update is a rather large canvas that measures in at 5' x 4'. The subject is of course water and this piece has been occupying my mind and energy for weeks now.

Please take a moment out of your day to enjoy the gallery and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you.

http://www.maddrey.net/paintingsof_still.html

Conversations

2011-03-06T13:42:00.000-08:00

I was wondering how many times the same conversation gets played out on the ski lifts every single day. It seems every conversation is exactly as follows:

how you doing?
I'm doing great, you?
good. Just enjoying the beautiful day.
Yeah, it's so sunny and nice.
Not too many people either.
Yeah it's great.

Of course if it's cloudy or crowded you can easily substitute descriptive words without affecting the conversation. I usually ski at this one mountain and there are 30 lifts with roughly 80+ chairs each going constantly all day long. And that same conversation probably gets played out thousands of times a day.

Indian Miniature Artist

2010-06-25T18:00:00.001-07:00

When I was in India. I met up with this fantastic artist named Kamal. He lives in Jaisalmer which is in the deserts within Rajasthan.

I would suggest checking out his work.

http://massakamal.com/

C. Obata - Yosemite Master

2010-06-15T11:01:00.001-07:00

If you are interested in the art of Yosemite, the following book by Obata is a must have.

Obata's Yosemite: The Art and Letters of Chiura Obata from His Trip to the High Sierra in 1927

His book was inspiration for my new book, "Paintings of Tuolumne Meadows."
Soon the book will be available for purchase through online retailers as well as local stores around Yosemite.

Teaching Art

2010-06-04T07:30:00.000-07:00

One time I decided to take a life drawing class at the local art league. The class was filled with about ten or twelve people with most of them being interesting. The teacher was a woman who painted ultra realistically. Her paintings were nice, but her teaching style was atrocious. I had asked her a question about something or other and her response to me was, I can't help you, I don't paint the way you do. I thought that was the lamest stupidest answer I've ever heard and I almost left the class right then and there, but I paid for use of the models so I was going to use them regardless of how useless the teacher is.

It just annoyed me that a teacher would say something that ignorant. It made me remember that not all teachers are good. In fact, most are not really that good and it's so annoying. A good teacher can elevate a student to their potential, this lady was just killing time on a Tuesday night.

Woodblocks

2010-06-01T18:24:00.000-07:00

I've been doing linocuts recently and to get some inspiration I've been researching some of the masters of the Japanese woodblock process. This guy here knows what's going on. His name is Yoshida Hirosh. And I suggest checking out his work.

Watching Programs

2010-06-01T16:05:00.000-07:00

On Netflix, you can watch certain TV programs that you might see on Discovery Channel or PBS. I've tried to watch a view, but they remind me of why I don't like watching television.

This one program I tried to watch was about the Middle Ages. It sounded like it could have shown some interesting information. Unfortunately it was produced in that same old boring way all TV shows are produced. With an emphasis on theatrics and violence, the show plodded along without giving the viewer any useful information.

I should have known better, because the intro to the show was done with lightning fast edits between clips of dungeon torture scenes, muddy war battles and some so called 'expert' droning on about how horrible the times were. All these types of shows are the same. There's a system that works for shows about Vietnam, Ancient Egypt, or the Middle Ages. Show some dumb reenactment, show some 'expert', back to the dumb reenactment with a voice over, pan over some photos, roll credits.

That Ken Burns guy does an alright job with documentaries like Jazz and the Civil War, but overall this format for presentating information is pretty boring. So needless to say I wasted about ten minutes of my life watching this horrible show before I realized it wasn't going to get any better.

Letter from Nabisco.....

2010-05-29T11:40:00.000-07:00

My Inquiry.....
I was wondering when you're going to stop putting in High Fructose Corn Syrup and Partially Hydrogenated Oil into your Premium Crackers.?

Their Response....
Thank you for visiting http://www.nabiscoworld.com and for your inquiry on our PREMIUM Cracker.
There are many types of fats and oils used in food products. Hydrogenated oils give foods the texture people expect and help foods stay fresh longer than alternative ingredients. Developing alternative ingredients with the same taste, texture and freshness characteristics but with better nutrition has been a challenge throughout the food industry. We do follow government rules for all ingredients used in our products; however, I will pass your concerns on to our Product Development.
Unfortunately, information on when these ingredients were introduced to the product is unavailable.
If you haven’t done so already, please add our site to your favorites and visit us again soon!
K. McMiller
Associate Director, Consumer Relation

---------------

Thanks for nothing Nabisco, and No. I won't be adding your site to my favorites.

Walking Home

2010-03-21T12:47:00.000-07:00

I remember one afternoon walking home from high school. I think I had after school detention and then skipped football practice so I was left to my own devices. On my way home, my seventh grade reading teacher was driving by. (Mrs. R. for those in the know. She was also the lady who asked one of the students to leave the class room so she could tell the rest of the students to stop picking on this particular kid).

She recognizes me and asks if I need a ride home. I say no thanks, but she prods a little and I agree. I start directing her where I live, right on Ivory, right on Triadelphia, etc. The whole time she keeps asking me, are we close? are we there yet? I tell her that she can drop me off wherever she wants to. I'm fine walking.

But we finally arrive at my driveway and she drops me off and zooms away to wherever it was she had to go. It made me realize two things. One, if you're going to offer your help to someone, offer it kindly and don't complain about it. And two, most people don't walk anywhere for any length of time.

John McEwan Quote

2010-03-16T21:08:00.000-07:00

The great thing about art is that no one can define it, even if we all know vaguely what it means.

roots

2010-03-15T18:23:00.000-07:00

The other day I watched that movie called, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Looking back on it, I realize that was probably my first introduction to the Indian culture. That movie laid a seed, that turned into a thought that turned into action. All because of Doctor Jones and what's his face.... um shortbus, or shortcake, short round! That's it, Shortround.

Regardless, it's interesting to think of what seeds we are laying for ourselves now. All that we do and see are possible stepping stones for some greater venture.

Cool Painting of the Day

2010-03-07T14:08:00.000-08:00

John Frederick Peto took an old drawer full of books and turned it into a beautiful painting. Well done, old chap.

Learning to Ski

2010-03-02T07:44:00.000-08:00

This weekend I went on a ski trip down to the Eastern Sierra. In my car I had some cross country (xc) skis and a backcountry setup. It's a couple hour drive down from Tahoe and a major storm was approaching along the crest, so when I made it to Bridgeport, I finally bought some chains which was an extremely good purchase since the storm locked me down in the Mono Basin for a day.

My first stop was on Tioga Pass. My goal this winter is to head up to Tuolumne Meadows, so I wanted to see what it was actually like skiing up Tioga Pass road. It's a roughly twelve mile, 2500' ascent to the pass and then eight miles and a 1500' descent to the ski hut. As I begin to ski up this road I'm initially taken aback by just how freakin long and hard this route might be. Just one long slow slog up 120. The snow was coming down signficantly more then when I started, so I figured I should head back to the car and possibly head down to Bishop, but the mountain weather was against me and I was forced to bivy in the van south of Mono Lake.

My evening was great, I just watched a movie and crashed out hard. Although, I was a little nervous about the snow. It just kept coming and coming. I was worried I was going to be stuck in the morning when I woke up, so I kept the chains on all night. Sure enough, when I awoke there was fresh snow everywhere. It was beautiful, crisp, and clear out. With a little rocking back and forth I was able to get my car moving, but then I had to get enough speed to blow through the plowed snow hill that the snow removers built up. So I backed up and blasted through. That was fun. After a quick morning xc ski run around the flat, I was off to Bishop.

Once down in Bishop, I met up with some friends and we headed up to Habeggars on South Lake Road. This was my first time backcountry skiing. Everything was new to me, my skis, my boots, the bindings, the skins, the snow, etc. I was a total rookie in this backcountry ski world. Add to the fact that I've actually only gone skiing eight or nine times in my entire life and only two of those were as an adult, and you get someone whose mind is fertile ground for learning.

When we get to the top of the hill and I ask, 'So how do you ski down?' I think the others might have been a little taken aback. Now isn't the time for those types of questions. But up till then I had too much to think about. I busy thinking about which line to create going up hill, I had to think about how tired I was and I had to worry about the snow that kept on coming down. Skiing in powder was new to me, so I just wanted a one or two sentence answer on the philosophy.

Once at the top of the hill, I moved into 'transition' mode. The crap you have to do between going uphill and downhill is called the 'transition.' Let me tell you, my transition time was atrocious. First off, it's snowing quite significantly, visibility was low, we're perched on the side of this steep incline, all my gear is new and it's cold out. So I'm fumbling and fussing, while those guys are just waiting patiently. Well, maybe not patiently, but silently at least. My skis are flopping around, my bindings won't engage, there's snow everywhere, everything was against me. But once I finally get myself together, I have one more question to ask Jim, but as I turn to get his answer he's already blasted down the hill.

Not wanting to be left alone, I jump right in after him. My initial feeling is speed. I love speed, don't get me wrong. In fact, I drive a slow car, because I love speed too much. I forfeited the right to own a sports car years ago. So going fast isn't my issue, it's going fast without a clue that bothers me. I didn't have too much time to gain speed though since I kept on falling over, but falling over in powder just makes one laugh. It's actually a good feeling. We all made it down eventually before the storm really kicked in gear and my first day of Backcounty skiing was a success.

Day Two was a completely different story though. Crystal clear skies, warm temps, skinning up in tshirts... it's that perfect Sierra day that is just typical of this area. The hike up was less exhausting, the snow was fluffier, and my transition time was pretty much cut in half. No questions at the top, just excitement. This time I make it down flawlessly without a crash. At the bottom, I was able to see the beautiful line I just made on the slope. A beautiful slithering S curve this time, as compared to yesterdays line which looked like someone with a seizure was trying to draw a picture.

Needless to say, the weekend was incredible. Day two was followed up by more XC skiing at Mono Lake and then up to Virginia Lakes Road for some final runs at setting light with an amazing view of Mono Lake in the background. It doesn't get much better then that.

painting all day everyday isn't as easy as it seems

2010-02-11T07:59:00.000-08:00

Snow Removal

2010-02-06T13:12:00.000-08:00

Typical morning in Lake Tahoe.

Recent Paintings....

2010-02-05T13:58:00.000-08:00

In a few days, several new paintings from January will be posted. The subjects are as diverse as usual. Grain Silos in Kansas, My niece on Christmas day, my house, lake tahoe, koi fish, snow, rocks, sunlight, buddha and the view from a cab.

Morning Walk

2010-01-31T20:35:00.000-08:00

Here's a video from a morning walk. In the morning the air is clear and everything is quiet and there is no one around. Just the quiet sounds of the waves rolling up to the snow.

Graton Gallery

2010-01-31T08:30:00.000-08:00

I'm currently showing paintings at the Graton Gallery located just outside of Sebastopol, California. The exhibition is showcasing several well known artists from the Northern California area. The work is outstanding and I'm happy to be surrounded by quality.

Come check it out.

http://gratongallery.com/

Here's a sad story

2010-01-15T12:02:00.000-08:00

Towards the end of Michelangelo;s life he was found one day to be tossing old sketches into the fire. He knew that he was going to be remembered into posterity and he didn't want work that he thought wasn't quite up to par.

What's annoying is that his below average pieces are still mind blowing and we all could have learned so much from those works. Sometimes when a painting is ''too good' it's hard to comprehend how the artist did it. If you take a painting that isn't mind blowing is easier to understand how it's done. And replicate the idea if need be.

Amazing Woodblock Artist

2010-01-14T21:26:00.000-08:00

Nice woodcuts. Worthy of checking out.

Tom Killion...

http://tomkillion.com/app/index

Purpose

2010-01-12T10:54:00.000-08:00

This is not the first blog I've set up. While travelling through India, I set up a blog to tell about the stories that happened. The main motivation was to fill in my friends and family. I knew they would appreciate it, but I've never been one to talk about my adventures all that much. I've already lived through the story of my life, I don't feel the need to tell everyone else how cool my life is. Besides, there are enough people out there with an incorrect assumption about their own personal importance.

Telling stories reminds me of being in high school. I remember several times where something funny would happen to me, and I just couldn't wait to tell someone at work about my crazy day. Then when I get into work I tell the story once and I'm done telling it. Even if I didn't like the person I told it to and I really meant to tell someone else, I would hardly ever retell the tale.

Another time I was telling some people about this ridiculous accident I had on Tioga Pass Road. There was this boulder that almost crushed my car and could have sent me over the cliff. So I was telling the story and getting into all the details and the excitement. Afterwards another guy came up and wanted to know what happened. I said, 'A rock almost hit my car.' He said, 'I don't believe you.' I said, 'ok. That's nice.'

I think my aversion to repeated story telling has to do with hanging around drunks. A repeating drunk who drones on and on about something he just talked about five minutes ago really irks me. Just like when someone is retelling me something, I get annoyed. 'Why are you telling me this again? Obviously what you're telling me isn't important enough for you to remember you told it to me in the first place. So why should I remember it or have to listen to it twice?'

Regardless this blog scene is interesting. It's a possible source of new clients and new patronage, which is always good. And technically the story is only told once, but it's out there forever. It's permanent. My opinions and ideas change all the time and to have people quoting my blog saying 'well back in '08 you said you liked Gummi Bears, but now you say you don't eat 'em. What's up?'

I'll tell you what's up.... if you're going to spend time on the internet, you might as well read this, but if truth be known, I'd rather have you not reading this and doing something more productive.

That being said, since you already are here, why not read some more.

The Mugging

2009-12-01T13:14:00.000-08:00

Original story written in 2/05
_________________________________

So I'm sitting in my room painting. Things are going well, although I'm a little hungry. After a few hours I need a stretch so I stand up to get a drink and to look outside my window.

That act in itself is unusual because of two reasons. One, I don't really drink much during the day and secondly, I normally have my curtains drawn in the evening. Let me rephrase that, I ALWAYS have my curtains drawn in the evening. The only reason tonight was any different was because I'm working on a painting of the room itself and the painting looked nicer if the curtains were open. That's sort of a crazy coincidence that might have saved someone from some serious harm.

So I look outside and see that some people are in my driveway. At first I didn't understand what was going on, but then I realized some people were fighting. Initially I thought it was just some punks messing with each other, but one of these kids hit the other one in such a vicious manner that I knew something was up.

I head downstairs and turn the lights in the kitchen on and try to open the backdoor. I don't have a key and this is one of those old school houses that needs a key to go in or out. I look out the window again, and I see that no one is there anymore, but there was a bag and a big pile of some stuff laying on the ground.

I was pretty sure that it wasn't a person laying on the ground, but it was still like deja vu. You see, A few years back I was hiking and I saw a what looked to be just a pile of stuff and it turned out to be a person who had fallen off a cliff. Needless to say, whenever I see a pile of stuff that looks like it might be a person, I usually check.

That was the initial motivation to make me go outside, but there was also an alterior motive. As I looked at that pile of stuff I realized that I was actually nervous to go outside of my house. Instantly that pissed me off. I said 'Screw that,' and immediately headed out the door. I never ever want to be afraid to leave my house.

As I head out into the night, everything is silent. There seems to be no one around, but you can never be too sure. Especially after witnessing someone getting jumped. The lights being turned on probably scared the punks away. I arrive at the pile and was very relieved to see that it's just a jacket and a bag and some chinese food, not a collasped person like I might have imagined.

After bringing the stuff inside I start to root through the bag looking for some clues as to who the owner is. I was hoping for a phone number to try to get in touch with the guy. Half way through I realize that the odds of someone having their own phone number in their own bag were pretty slim. Fortunately I did find some mail, so I knew I could return his stuff eventually. In his wallet, which was devoid of money I find a credit card with the guys name on it, James Burch.

Eventually I head back to my studio and get back into my painting when the hunger pangs start again. There's only one thought in my head. Obviously the chinese food was a gift from the heavens. It was even warm. So as I'm getting ready to eat the food, I realize that I can't eat this. This guy could be sitting at home right now all pissed off, the least I could do is bring him back his food. So I pack up his belongings and head out the door to his house which is right down the street. I get to the house and of course he doesn't live there anymore. He apparently moved into another house down the block.

While I'm over at James Burchs' old house, my current landlord calls, who also happens to be Jim's landlord too, he tells me that Jim is in the hospital and that I should just leave his stuff in my house and he'll come pick it up. This was good news and bad news. It was bad because I was worried about this Jim character. He must have gotten a wallup. I did see him get kicked in the face and that really bothered me, because the other guys doing the hitting looked like they were having fun. I hate seeing violence portrayed as a fun activity.

But on the other hand it was good news because it meant that I could eat the chinese food. Which I did and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was expecting chicken, but it was this weird rubbery meat. I'm assuming it was pork. It tasted fine, but when I bit into it and expected a certain feel, this rubbery texture caught me by suprise.

It's not too long before the cops show up. They're walking around the neighborhood flashing lights everywhere. I wander outside since I assumed they wanted to talk to me and see what went down. It's around midnight and I'm wandering around outside talking on my cellphone. A cop sees me and I say, 'Hey, you all here for the incident?' He is immediately suspicious and I tell him if he wants to ask me something I'll be inside.

A Russian Flood

2009-12-01T11:51:00.000-08:00

Original story written in 2004.
_________________________________

ok.
here I am.
In Russia.
And I just made a major fuck up. It's still a little too close to the event for me to laugh about it. In a few weeks/months maybe this will be funny, but right now I'm all annoyed, my stomach is tight and I can't sleep. Every noise is someone from the hotel coming to my door to tell me the situation is horrible and getting worse.

It was a late evening and I was doing some work in my hotel room. I aws having some issues with my computer and I figured I'd take a break and just start a bath. So I start the water and get back to trying to figure out this computers' problem. Pretty soon, I'm all wrapped up in the issue and trying to figure it all out. Then I hear the sound of the bath and I remember I left the water on.

I run into the bathroom to check it out. The water is flowing full force out the faucet. I turn it off and survey the damage. It's pretty bad. So I resign to my fate and I start sopping it up with the few measley towels I have. Then I see that the puddle, or should I say river, flows out the door way. I didn't want that to happen. And of course it's my computer's fault cause it's such a piece of wothless technology.

I open the door and take a peek outside. It's worse then I expected. The river flows down the hall and has created lakes in the middle of the hallway. After seeing this, I get really really freaked out. So I quickly go out into the hallway and start sopping up that mess. My first thought is, 'well I'll just clean this up before anyone notices.' Wrong.

In the middle, or in the beginning actually since this was a rather long drawn out process and it's probably still going on now. Along comes a Russian hotel guard chatting on his CB. Obviously I have no idea what he's saying exactly, but I can pretty much guess the overall meaning of the conversation. 'Yeah, we got a big mess up here, there's a stupid american out here with a soggy towel on his hands and knees making his meager attempt at saving face, but I caught him in the act.'

So now there's me and a security guard. This guard is a young guy and although I don't know what he's saying, I feel as though he's on my side. He makes some body language and a smile that says, 'it's cool.' Then along comes another guard. They're chatting about me and talking on their CB's. I figure I'll just keep cleaning up. The nice guard hangs out while the other one leaves, only to be replaced by the hotel manager lady and an older gentelman.

The hotel manager lady is like all hotel manager ladies. Even in Russia the stereotypes for most jobs hold true. Although this one was nicer then the average hotel manager. She spoke some decent english and I told her what happened.

So I lie and say I was on the phone and I forgot about the tub. She repeats this nonsense to the other Russians and all I hear is, 'blah blah blah telephono blah blah blah' She says that they'll have to call the electrical man to see if the room is alright. Meanwhile, a maid shows up, another guard shows up, and everyone is chatting in Russian. I'm just standing there like a moron, wishing I could be somewhere else.

I don't say anything, but I think that maybe some more towels would be helpful. The manager lady tells me that they'll go and get the vaccuum cleaner and that the maid will clean it up. She says they'll have to check on the other floors to make sure there are no other problems or leaks. If there are, this will be bad for me. Those were her exact words.

I ask her how to say sorry in Russian and she says 'invinite' and I repeat that and the nice guard chuckles a bit. The manager tells me to be more careful and the maid says something in Russian which can probably be translated into, 'ya dumb fuck I don't care if you're sorry or not. It's 12 o'clock at night and I'm up here vaccuuming up your mess!'

I tell the manager lady to tell the maid lady to not vaccuum it up. It's my fault, I'll do the clean up. I was hoping to have it all done before you got here anyway. She says, no the maid will do it and then she leaves. So it's just the nice guy, the annoyed maid and I.

I figure I might as well continue to sop up the mess, just to show some initiative and to make it look like I'm at least trying. Which I really was. Then the electrical man comes along, just looks around and leaves. Then the vaccuum system gets turned on and the maid starts vaccuuming up the mess while I'm working around here trying to sop up stuff with my soggy towell.

The vaccuuming is done and she heads off. The nice guy leaves too. And it's just me, the remnents of my disaster and my crappy feeling which hasn't gone away and that's why I'm writing this.

interesting website

2009-11-18T19:03:00.000-08:00

www.maddrey.net

A long ride back

2008-04-16T07:13:00.000-07:00

So I'm back in the states now. I'll probably keep up this writing thing though. It's good for me. The trip home was slightly annoying. It's not like it used to be with the whole nine month boat ride, but it still felt like it took forever.

It started off with a nine hour bus ride from Pokahra to Kathmandu. We had the pleasure of running into some major traffic issues that delayed all the process. A few days in Kathmandu fixing tickets and such, then it was a early two hour flight to Delhi. Our ticket said the plane was leaving at 7:00. Although the airport didn't open till 6:00. And the flight eventually left around 8:00.

We landed in Delhi and spent the day there. Our next flight was to Bangalore and it left around eight in the evening. The stupid morons at British Airways wouldn't let us switch our flight to Delhi, so we had to fly all the way down to Bangalore. I know I'll never fly on British Airways again. Of course the flight was delayed, so we didn't arrive into Bangalore until midnight. Our next flight left around 6:30am, so we just hung out at the airport. No sleep that night.

That next flight took us to London where we had a nice 24 hour layover. We were going to head out and meet a friend, but we ended up being so tired we just crashe at the airport. Our next flight left the next day and ten hours later we arrived in Atlanta. Then it was a three hour drive to Fitzgerald and that's where I am now.

Pokhara to Kathmandu

2008-04-03T10:00:00.000-07:00

The trip back to Pokhara was a little tedious. A couple hour jeep ride, followed by a couple hour hike. Then a nights rest, followed by a couple hour bus ride on this sketchy thin mountain rode. Then switch buses to a bigger one. A few more hours on this bumpy road and we finally get to Pokhara. We figure out the travel plans, and then walk around town for the last night.

The next day we take a bus ride to Kathmandu and run into some traffic. The bus ride takes forever. We get passed by a western couple on mountain bikes, but we eventually arrive in the loud, westernized, dirty, town of Kathmandu.

Kathmandu is filled with CD stores, email cafes, outdoor clothing stores, Thangka shops, restaurants, hotels, taxis, touts, and drug dealers. Everyone is trying to sell you something. It's as if white skin means deep wallet.

Overall Kathmandu leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Actually, it gives me a sore throat. I prefer Bangkok or Delhi to this place. Those towns have a little more character then here.

I walked to Durbar Square one day and some guard stopped me and told me I had to pay 200 rupees to get in. I didn't feel like doing that so I left. The next day I'm wandering around and I end up finding myself in Durbar Square but I entered from a side street. Apparently it's free from over this way. I did some sketching and painting watched the people. Again there was more communist mumbo jumbo. These elections are annoying.

Everywhere I go I hear about elections. I even hear about the American elections. US politics is news in every country. It's a little sad when you think about it. There's nothing more petty and annoying then US politics and our silly elections. So to have that be worldwide news means that everyone else is interested in petty squabling and mud slinging just as much as we are.

Jomsom

2008-03-30T09:58:00.000-07:00

Today we arrived in Jomsom. This town is pretty big compared to the rest. The streets are wide. There are jeeps that go down to Ghasa or continue on up to Muktinath. We're going to take one down to Ghasa in the morning. Our hike time is up. We still have two more months before California starts, and we're going to continue our travels in the United States.

It's cold up here, but the views are nice. There's an airport in town too. Some people take planes back to Kathmandu from here, but we have to return some of the gear we rented back in Pokhara.

Truckhe

2008-03-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

This place is great. The guest house we are staying at is very welcoming. The people are great and every question you have is answered with 'No problem, no problem' I ask where the bathroom is and they say the inside one is broken, so we have to use the one in the courtyard, 'no problem no problem' Yeah, no problem for you, but what about me if I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Although that never seems to be an issue since I haven't been drinking very much water. A quarter to a half litre a day seems to be the most I'm taking in. I doubt that that is very heathty.

Finally the trail is flat. None of this up and down nonsense for the past few days. It's nice that way. It's more like strolling then trekking. But strolling doesn't sound very intense or extreme so no one will tell you that they went to Nepal to do some strolling.

Even way up here you can get all the stuff you need. All the products are the same as in America. Colage, Snickers, Duracel. It's the same every where in the world now. It's slightly annoying. Diversity leads to evolution and change. If everything is the same, then it leads to stagnation.

Kalopani

2008-03-29T09:41:00.000-07:00

Today we hiked up to the town called Kalopani. If you don't know where that is, it's right past Lete. In Lete we had to check in with the ACAP office. These are the people who keep track of all the hikers who pass through the area. It seems so pointless, but I suppose if someone falls off a cliff, the people can figure out what town the person was last seen in. That way they can dig through the ravines in certain areas as compared to the entire circuit.

It's getting cold up here, and the peaks are covered in snow. It seems it's been rainting in the late afternoons where we are and snowing up in the mountains. The air is fresh and clean so it's been nice. Fortunately the rains always seem to come after we're done hiking for the day.

I think this hike has been the most expensive part of my whole trip. The lodging is cheap, but the food is expensive up here. I guess if someone carries your food miles and miles from the closest real town, the price is going to be jacked up a bit. If you are a Nepalese and have a guest house up this way, I imagine you're rich as hell compared to your poor ass farmer neighbors. At least that's the way it appears. There's a big seperation of wealth up here. The western dollar doesn't veer off the trail very much, so a couple hundred yards can be the difference between wealth and poverty.

Crazy dream last night. I dreamt I had a hole in my stomach and these ants were crawling in and out of it. Ewwww. That's one reality that I don't care to be reminded of.

On to Ghasa

2008-03-28T09:35:00.000-07:00

Today was another uphill walk. I'm curious where all the level hiking trails in Nepal are. I seem to be missing them. The trail today was along a road where a land slide happened awhile ago. There was a big road crew trying to fix the problem. It makes me wonder how long these roads and trails will be around. These mountains are young and moving quite a lot, so change is a constant factor. I was suprised to see a big bulldozer way out here.

Half way up the trail we stopped at some waterfall and asked some lady about the next place to sleep. She said there was a town right up the road. I was feeling sick and exhausted so I wasn't sure if I wanted to hike that much further, but she made it sound like it was only a 20 minute walk.

A couple hours later we finally arrive in the town of Ghasa. The stupid lady was the target of my annoyance and angst the entire walk. Ghasa is a nice little town. Again, we stay at the first guest house we reach. The people are very cool. The food was good and I slept for hours.

The next morning we were debating on whether we should continue to hike or take a rest day. Eventually we decided that a rest day is what is needed. Fortunately for us, we made that call. It started raining hard around noon. So we passed the day away being dry and hanging out.

It was my birthday today and it's a good place to spend it. I received an excellent Thai massage. Nothing is better then hiking and then getting a massage. I felt like a king and slept like champ.

Ghorepani to Tatopani

2008-03-26T09:23:00.000-07:00

This hike was annoying. It was probably one of the most beautiful parts of the trail, but it was all down hill. It started out through this beautiful forest with flowering trees, then went down past villages and terraced fields. The trail passed through a little knotch in the hill side then dropped quickly all the way down to a suspension bridge across the river.

We left early in the morning after a couple paintings and started on our way. The mornings up here are cold. I suppose this is the mountains and all so it's to be expected. I'm looking through my journal right now and trying to write about this hike from the notes I took, but most of my journal is filled with my crazy dreams.

My sleeps have been filled with the most vivid dreams. I'm dreaming more here, then I have in years. It's nice having two lives. My daily life and then an entirely different existence at night. A week later, everything that happened in your sleep or in reality is just a memory anyway so they both just as real. I've been dreaming about old friends. These random people I knew in high school and middle school keep popping up in my dreams to chat it up.

Once we finally reached Tatopani we found a place to stay and went to the roof to paint. I started talking to this sadu guy dressed in the typical guru attire. He seemed cool enough at first. We were talking about the Bhagavada-Gita. That's this really old Indian book. It's a good one that'd I'd recommend to anyone.

He was a yoga teacher and I told him Ashlee was one too, so when she came up they started chatting it up. Eventually I got the impression that he was only trying to find someone who would help him get to America. Ash said she would try and he said, 'good, you won't be happy until you do.'

I thought that was a rude statement to make. Especially after we just got finished talking about how powerful words are and how what you say is just as important as what you do. Then he's gotta go and basically try to put a curse of total unhappiness on Ashlee. What a fraud and a clown. I'm glad I didn't do a portrait of him when he asked me to.

Apparently there are some hot springs in this town, but I was too exhausted to even go sit in a hot tub.

Ghorepani

2008-03-25T09:11:00.000-07:00

Up and up and up and up and then some more ups. Today was a pain in the calf. The views are nice, but I'm starting to get a little sick, so my throat is annoying. The town of Ghorepani is located at the top of this hill. It's the junction between a couple of trails so as far as villages in the middle of nowhere goes, this one is pretty big. We ended up staying at the Hungry Eye Guest House. It was recommended by the kids at Laxmi's because their father is the cook here. He did a good job. The Daal Bhat was excellent.

We pretty much eat that everywhere we go. It consists of rice, daal and some mixed veggies. It's good food and it's the only plate where they bring out seconds. When you're hiking all day that's a big plus. The room we stayed in was great. Windows on three sides and great views of the town and of the surrounding mountains.

There is a place called Poon Hill that everyone goes to see when the sunrises. Ash and I passed on this. I was painting in my room before the sun was up and I didn't feel like hiking up a big hill anyway. An hour or so after sunrise, we saw this massive migration of people hiking down there. It was amazing how many people actually went up to see the view. There had to be a couple hundred up there at least. I'm not too pressed about not going up there. I was able to do three paintings sitting on my warm bed and looking out the windows.

Ulleri and Beyond

2008-03-24T09:03:00.000-07:00

Ulleri is a little village clinging to the side of this steep hill. It's pretty beautiful. There are nice stone walkways through the town, little shanty guest houses and good views of the surrounding countryside.

We ended up staying at the first guest house we came to. I think all the guest places are the same for the most part. The rooms are the same in every place, the only difference is the management. The prices were fixed in this town so all the places had the same prices. Although, all you have to do is offer less and the owner says, 'well ok, but just don't tell anyone else.'

The same situation happened in the town of Pokhara. If you want to rent any gear for your trip, tent, coats, sleeping bag, etc, you can go to any shop and they say the prices are fixed, but everyone gives deals and then tells you to keep it on the downlow.

Hiking in the Himalays

2008-03-23T22:00:00.000-07:00

So today we started our hike. (I'm actually done the hike, but I'll just continue to write in this tense since that's what I'm used to) As you can imagine it's really beautiful. The big hills, the terraced fields, all the trees and rocks and whatnot. The trail I'm hiking on seems old. It's all laid out with these slate stones and wide and well used. It's not some dinky little dirt path. On one hand it's nice like that, but on the other it's less wilderness like. I'm certainly not heading 'Into the Wild' and death by berries is the least likely end to this trek.

What is a trek anyway? Why is it called 'trekking' when you're in Nepal, but only 'hiking' when you're in the states? I think people like to feel cool and 'trekking' sounds so much more hardcore then just hiking. Hiking is what you do with your family on vacation, trekking is what manly men do in the wilderness.

I'm finding less and less wilderness out here. Everything is pretty civilized out this way. Hot showers can be had at most of the guest houses. They sell beer, chocolate and toilet paper at even the most remote villages. There is currently a road all the way up to the town of Jomsom and once you get there, you could catch a plane to Kathmandu. Helicopters fly people in who don't feel like walking. As my pack gets heavier with each step, I'm thinking that a helicopter might not be that bad of an option.

More Hiking

2008-03-23T20:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was zero elevation gain. Today we dropped down from Chandrakot to river about a thousand feet and then we started our long hike upwards. After some breakfast and checking in at the police post, we start walking up along a trail that runs beside a river. We end up chatting with this nice guy who was once in the Nepalese Army. We're walking together for quite some time and he's sharing some good knowledge. He seems to know every single person on the trail. He's always stopping and chatting. He keeps telling us not to push it too hard on the first day. He's saying we should only go to the town just past Hille. Later on we find out that his brother owns a guest house there, so his motivation wasn't really out of concern for us. His interest lay in his brothers wallet.

We stopped at the town of Hille at the Laxmi Guest House. It started to sprinkle so we took shelter on this porch and just decided to stay there. The place was run by three kids - a girl 14, a girl 11, and a boy around 9. They were super cool and very responsible. They cooked up some good food and just talked and painted.

There's no one else but us at the guest house so it's nice and peaceful. The guest houses out here remind me of a cross between a grandmothers house and a dorm room. They are very quaint and relaxing. There's even electricity, so the hot shower felt great.

On the way up we were passed by a big group of people with flags all promoting some political group. They were for the communist party. I wonder if the war on terrorism is going to end like the cold war. The Cold War just faded away. It never ended in some supreme battle between the Democracies and the Communists. It just got surpassed by more interesting wars. Communism is as strong as ever. I suppose that's the influence of China though. A billion people is quite the majority when they are your next door neighbors. Either way, trying to enjoy the peaceful woods when hiking behind people shouting political propaganda is a little annoying.

The next morning we had some good food for breakfast and then hung out with the kids before we started our up hill walk to the next town called Ulleri.

Annapurna Permit

2008-03-21T09:42:00.000-07:00

In order to go hike in the Annapurna area, all trekkers are required to buy a permit. I waited to the absolute last minute before I got around to even thinking about getting this permit. Today was holiday and I thought I might have been out of luck.

The office is a ways away from where we were staying and I really didn't feel like walking all the day down there. I'll have enough walking to do starting tomorrow. I was sitting with this shop owner just watching the day go by and I asked him how much it'd cost to rent his motorcycle down to the office. He said 160. I didn't want to pay that cause the office might have been closed. So I sit some more and see that there's a bicycle in front of the shop. 'Is that your's?' I ask. He says the bike is his sons'. Well how much for to rent that for an hour? He says fifty. Perfect.

So I'm on this little bmx bicycle that doesn't have any brakes and riding through town trying to beat the approaching rain storm. When I arrive at the office I find that they are open and I'm able to get what I need. It takes awhile to fill out the forms and sit around and do nothing while the people each thier lunch, but it's ok since it was raining and when they were all finished so was the rain.

You can check out some of the paintings from the trip on Maddrey.Net.

Hotel Switch

2008-03-21T09:41:00.000-07:00

Today I checked out of one hotel and into another just down the street. The first hotel was fine and all, but we were paying too much. Although at the new hotel we are paying the exact same price, but at the new hotel I know the price is going to the right place.

All these countries over here deal in the commission system. So the first hotel we checked out, had rooms that were we weren't interested in, so he's takes us next door and says he has a room here. 'Oh, don't worry about the name on the sign out there, it's still our hotel.'

So a portion of our money was going to this clown and that irks me. I also know that he's a con man cause when I asked how much a taxi to Sarangkot is, he said 700, when I know it was 500. He says if I need a taxi he'll get one for me. No thanks, pal. I'll just get my own cab.

The hotel we were staying at was run by a Nepalese family who had a German grandfather thrown in the mix. They were super nice, but annoying. I asked how much it would be to store our luggage and one of the younger girls said, 20 ruppe's a day. That sounds cheap, but it's not as cheap as the zero ruppee's a day the other hotels charge. And when I was checking out of the hotel, the guy didn't have exact change and he owed me a few ruppees, and he's like 'oh don't worry, no problem.' I was like, 'No problem for you since you're the one getting the free cash.'

This place is all about getting the tourist dollar. It makes sense though. All these honkeys coming from far away countries with seemingly bottomless pockets full of cash. They just spend and spend and spend. So the locals try to scam as much as possible. Whenever you ask the price on some item to purchase, there's a momentary pause while their brain is trying to size you up and figure out what you're willing to pay. Every shop has a different price. The trick is to go into a variety of shops and find the average and figure out what you're willing to pay. The problem with that is that it involves shopping and I hate shopping. It's so time consuming and tedious and boring and uneventful and uninspirting and pointless and useless and a few more negative adjectives that I can't think of right now. I dont' understand how some people plan their days around it. But there's a lot of things that I don't understand about people.

Tomorrow the Trek

2008-03-20T08:16:00.000-07:00

Tonight is our last night here in Pokhara. Today was spent running around, gathering gear and doing some last minute necessities before we head out on our stroll. The first day we'll be heading to place called Sarankot. It's not very far from Pokhara, but from what I hear, the views are spectacular. Depending on how the painting goes, we may stay a day or two there.

The hike usually takes around 20 days. We're scheduling in another 10 or more. No need to rush. I just want to meander through the mountains and stop when I want, paint when I want and have no schedule for the next month.

After a month of peacefulness, we have to head back to the states. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, but I'm not looking forward to the travel.

First we have an eight hour bus ride to Kathmandu where we'll stay the night and leave early the next morning for a two hour flight to Delhi. We arrive in Delhi in the afternoon, and the next morning we head on down to Bangalore and stay for the night. In the morning we fly ten hours to London where we stay the night AND switch airports. The next day is another ten hour flight to Atlanta. Depending on our energy level, we may try to push on through and make the twelve hour drive up to Maryland. Once in MD, we can relax for two weeks before we head down to Georgia for two weeks, and then it's another cross country drive out to California. This will be drive number ten.

I sometimes long for the good old days when it all it took was one boat ride to get to another continent. Sure it took six months, but those must have been some pretty relaxing six months. They didn't have any of this switching plane, switching airports, standing in line, getting the full penetration pat down from some goon who couldn't get any other job then with airport security. Back in the old says there was nothing to do, but sit in the crows nest and watch for whales.

Communism

2008-03-19T06:54:00.000-07:00

Being over here so close to Tibet, I hear more about the drama then I would say in Tuolumne Meadows where I don't read the news, I don't watch the TV and I just sit by the river and paint all day. Those days are nice. But here I am and the drama that's always unfolding is more in my face then usual.

The papers and the people talk about the China crackdown in Tibet. China is so lame. That country is straight out of 1984 and it's creepy. A quote from the Chinese press:

The Dalai is a wolf in monk's robes, a devil with a human face but the heart of a beast. We are now engaged in a fierce blood-and-fire battle with the Dalai clique, a life-and-death battle between us and the enemy."

Imagine calling one of the worlds last peaceful profits a devil? What are they thinking?

I've been reading some literature by the Dali Lama and he speaks of his first dealings with China. The Dali gained control of Tibet when he was just a teenager. He speaks of the Chinese blabbing on and on and not saying anything other then just communist mumbo jumbo about progress, unity, etc.

It coorelates to our presidential canidates who don't actually have any unique opinions, they just blab on about ideas and concepts that they won't follow through with.

Today in the streets of Pokhara, a van with a speakerphone on top and red communist flags on flying off the side slowly rode around town preaching communist nonsense. The same thing was going on in Kerala in the south of India. I think communist ideas arise when things are hard for the general public. They hear these nonsensical ideas about total equality and sharing the work load and they fall prey to it.

They fail to realize that the people who want this type of system only want power. The consolidation of power leads to corruption. Corruption leads to more nonsense in the world. More loser leaders and more idiot ideas.

The more I read about the situatino in Tibet, the more I realize how screwed they are. China doesn't care about those mountain buddhist. China hates religion and the people who follow it. They only want Tibet as a staging ground for the next world war. Tibet has access to many of the rivers in India, so they could easily dry that country up. Tibet is practically impregnable by land attack, so they are already starting to build massive army bases up there. And they also use Tibet as a dumping ground for nuclear waste that other countries give to China to dispose of.

So whenever we buy this crap made it China or anything at Walmart, we're only supplying the future enemy of America with more funds to continue their genocide of the Tibet people.

If China was wise like America, they would have completed this process years ago before the Internet and mass media. They could have put all the Tibetans on little teenie tiny reservations and gave them casinos. But either way, there's a price to pay for behavior like that and it comes back to haunt us all.

As Churchill said, "Democracy is the worst form of government...except for every other form that's been tried." I guess the cold war was never over, just forgotten about for a little while.

Get a haircut

2008-03-19T06:27:00.000-07:00

Today after I finished doing some painting, I wandered around and found a nice barber shop. For a buck f'dee, I was able to get a shave and a haircut.

The barber trimmed up my head and gave me a nice straight razor shave. There's something a little intimidating about getting a shave that way. There's some potential for some serious disfigurement, but on the other hand, I've never had a cleaner shave. I feel like a brand new person. I've probably only shaved three or four times since I've been here and it's always with those cheap indian razors that basically suck.

Some people don't even recognize me. Earlier in the day I was painting by the lake when a bunch of guys came by for a couple things. First they sent the youngest of their crew to have me read a letter that said, we're trying to save up money for a football and would you dontate some cash. After my denial of that, they tried to sell me a bracelet that was ugly. Again, I had to pass. Thirdly they asked me if I wanted to buy some marijuana. After my final rebutal, a few of them stayed to watch me paint.

I'm always impressed with the people who watch me paint over here. My paintings usually take an hour or two a many times the people stay for the whole duration. American's don't have that kind of time or patience.

Anyway, after my haircut I was passing a street corner and one of the guys tried to sell me some marijuana and I was like, 'dude.... it's me? Remember?' It took him a second, but he eventually remembered.

That leads me to story that happened on the way here. I was passing a guy and he asked me something. I thought he said, 'Would you like to do some drinking later?'

"No, no drinking, no drugs, leave me alone, please." I think that was probably the fifth person today who tried to sell me something, so I was a little annoyed. But then the guy said, "No, no no.... trekking. Would you like to do some trekking."

A trip to the Village

2008-03-18T07:50:00.000-07:00

February 28, 2008

The other morning I was in my hotel room getting ready to head out for the day when I hear a knock at the door. I open the door and see my friend Pusar. He was the camel driver I stayed with during my first trip to India back in '04. I was totally suprised. We chatted for a bit, and he invited me out to his village sometime. I said, how about today? So we made plans to meet at the bus station in the afternoon.

I arrive and before we even get out of the taxi there's this guy standing there right next to the rickshaw. He was almost climbing in. I thought it was a little weird, but I thought maybe he wanted the next ride. As I'm trying to climb out I see it's Derag, Pusars' son. He was already on the lookout for us. A white guy at the local bus stand is pretty easy to spot. We are an hour early so we go to wait in the shade and have some chai.

Soon it's time for the bus to leave. The bus is as packed as you might imagine an Indian bus to be. Instead of dealing with the suffocating inside, we opt for the shanti ride on the top.

With Pusar there, we're able to stake out a comfortable 'seat' and we're on our way. The locals all get a kick seeing a few honkey's riding the bus the Indian way.

About an hour later we arrive at the village. It was nice to be back since I haven't been there in four years. The children all looked so much older, and Pusar added a new addition to his house. His kitchen now has a roof over it. Although I must admit that it's all dark and the old one was much more airy and comfortable.

We sat around that afternoon entertaining some of the local children. Being out in the little villages in Rajashtan, it's easy to see just how isolated these people are. Pusar is a camel driver, so he sees his share of tourists, but the rest of the village is as excited to see a foreigner in their home as an American would be excited to see some lame actor in theirs.

In the evening we had dinner and drank some rum and water. That's not my favorite mixed drink and it was my first drink since I left the states, but it was relaxing, enjoyable and we all had a good time. Pusar's brother came by and brought some of his stone carving. He does intricate carvings for the sides of buildings. Then I shared some of my paintings. In India, people tend to drink first, and then eat. It makes more sense that way, because if you eat first, there's no reason to stop drinking and then people just keep on drinking and then they get wasted and sick and puke.

Dinner was delicious. It my first meat I had since I left the states and probably my last. It was a delicious entree consisting of chapatis and goat masala. Ashlee opted for the veggie dal. I'll eat meat in the villages, but meat from a restaurant scares me a bit. The food in restaurants is always hit or miss around here.

The next morning I played some cricket with the locals, while Ashlee was severely harassed by a few local children. At the time I didn't realize this. I was out there throwing the ball around and she looked like she was just chilling in the shade having a nice time. Later that day she told me how annoying some of the little brats were, begging for her belongings and just irritating her to death. It's funny how things always look much more serene from far away. Like if you're on the top floor of a skyscraper in New York, the city street and traffic looks so peaceful.

Eventually the bus arrived and again, we rode on the top. A new cast of characters, but just as pleasant. Ash was blessed by a sadu who sat next to her. We made it back just in time to head on over to the Desert Festival which was a complete waste of time.

Pokhara: Fashion Expo 2008

2008-03-18T06:54:00.000-07:00

Pokhara reminds me of Yosemite Valley. There are all these trendy trekkers who are styled out in the latest and greatest in outdoor apparel.

North Face, Mountain Hard Ware, Mammut and all these other logos are everywhere. After being in India for so long, I forgot how style conscious the western world is. I never understood why someone would try to look styled out in a third world country. Who are they trying to impress? The locals? Other travellers? Themselves? I'll never know. Part of this probably stems from the fact that the tourists in Nepal tend to be older people on vacation from their 'real' jobs and in India the tourist tends to be younger people without any jobs.

Pokhara's lakeside street is lined with tourist shops. There is a striking similarity to all the tourist streets in all the countries. Bootleg CD stores, internet cafes, stores selling little trinkets, tailor shops and drug pushers. It seems that even in foreign countries, street corners are the habitual hangout for dealers.

Tonight it's raining and tomorrow they said it'll be nice. Other then the nuisance created by the tourist trade, (I realize my presence only contributes to this, I'm not trying to hide that fact) this seems nice.

The huge lake by the town has some great painting potential. The mountains in the distance are waiting to be sketched and the trails are out there in the dark just waiting for my footsteps.

I'm in Nepal!

2008-03-17T08:33:00.000-07:00

So finally we're in Nepal. I was excited about heading up this way and it's nice to be up in the real mountains. It seems like it's been so long.

Yesterday we arrived in Kathmandu. Cities in south east Asia are all the same. Chaotic, crowded and crazy. Initially there wasn't much difference between Delhi and Kathmandu, but after a few hours the subtleties became apparent.

It seems that people bother the tourist more up here. We took a cab from the airport and we weren't sure which hotel we wanted to stay in so we just headed to the main tourist section of town to get dropped off. The cabbie tries to tell us that he's only taking us to the beginning of the Thamel district. I said, 'No, you're taking us to this particular hotel. The guy at the airport said that's where we'd go. You say he's lying, well I say you're lying.'

He eventually took us further, but then another random guy jumped in the cab and said he knew where this hotel we were looking for is. Whenever someone wants to help to find a cheap room, all they really want is a commission from the hotel, which means the room is a higher price. To the confusion of the cabbie and the newbie, Ash and I exited the cab right then and there and decided to do things on our own.

We found a hotel that was nice in the afternoon, but once the sun set, the bar downstairs started and it felt like we were trying to fall asleep in a bumping music hall. I fell right asleep. When there is that much noise everything just melts together and it's all like ambient background noise.

The next morning we arose at 5am to catch the tourist bus to Pokhara. The bus ride wasn't as crazy as people make it out to be. The roads are tight, the cliffs are tall and the trucks are big, but all in all it was sane.

So now we're here and we're happy.

Checking out

2008-03-17T08:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my last day in Dharamasala. I was anxious to leave, because of my anticipation of Nepal, but I'll miss the place and when I return to India in the future, Dharmasala will be one of the places that I will visit again. There's a mountain village called Triund that is north of here. I wanted to go hike up there, but things didnt' work out that way. Other then that, no regrets.

When we were checking out of the hotel we had a long talk with the owner of the hotel. Tashi, that was his name, was giving us a little advice about our travels, buddhism and life in general. Whenever I checked out of hotels in the states I don't think I ever had a philosophical discussion about life karma, the future, etc.

That may be because I don't really check out of hotels when I'm in the states. I usually just leave. I figure they have my credit card and if they need something from me, well they can just bill me.

Tashi then gave us some sort of seeds for good luck and wished us well on our journey and in our lives. I think I'll stay at that hotel the next time. It had a good vibe. If you're in the area, it's the place across from the Green Hotel on Bhagsu Road.

Tibetans Protest March

2008-03-16T00:26:00.000-07:00

The other night Ashlee and I were walking around town when we sensed a buzz in the air. There was something going on, but we weren't sure what or where. The people's vibe seemed different, then we saw a video camera guy, and some cars racing in one direction. We eventually found out that there was a protest march going on for the Tibetans. I think the news of the Chinese crackdown in Tibet has been making international headlines, and as it should. China is lame and greedy.

Ash and I walked down to the Dali's house, and saw that there were not too many people around. We wandered over to the railing over looking the road and saw in the distance a huge procession of people each one holding a burning candle. The sight of all these monks chanting and marching was pretty intense. They filed beneath us and we watched from above as hundreds of monks passed underneath.

The monks made thier way up to the courtyard where everyone gathered. There were a couple speakers who were giving talks - in Tibetan, so I didn't understand the actual words, but the meaning was clear enough. It was very interesting listening to the speakers because I was listening to thier emotions and the feeling behind what they were saying.

Later a women got up and started speaking. She was on the verge of tears throughout the entire talk. It was moving. I'll never know her situation, but from the sound of her voice, it sounded like she was talking about a the loss of a child. Anger, hurt, loss, all these emotions were reflected in her voice.

I feel bad for the Tibetans. I'll never know their situation and what it's like to be in thier shoes. America will never be overtaken in the way Tibet was overtaken by China. America's fate will be different and more subtle. I think America will be consumed from within. So their won't be this big evil enemy to rally against. It'll be just a new way of thinking that will slowly erode into the rationality of the present.

Sleeping In

2008-03-16T00:16:00.000-07:00

If you're thinking about coming to India for some rest and relaxation, it's possible, but don't think you'll get a chance to sleep in late. Every place I've been too seems intent on not letting me sleep in.

In Kerala, it was the lions that woke me up. Every morning around 5am, the lions would start roaring so loudly. It sounded more like heavy machinery then it did an animal sound. If I was able to sleep through that, then the morning bell at the ashram started clanging. There were a few minor bells around 5:15 and at 5:45 the mad clanger arose and rung the bell loud enough to wake the dead.

In Jaisalmer, the morning noises consisted of the bus that had a circuit down below our hotel. Eventhough we were a hundred or so feet above street level, we heard his honking early every morning. And in India the horns are a little different then the west. They are more musical. Somewhat similar to the horn in the General Lee, but less in tune, more obnoxious and way louder.

In Dharmasala the early morning noise consisted of fighting dogs. The street below our hotel seemed to be the battle ground for various tribes of dogs. I'm not sure if they were fighting each other or if they were fighting the monkeys, but either way the results were the same.

So it's early to bed and early to rise, but from what I hear, that's the best way to go. We'll see if I can continue when I return.

Wired in India

2008-03-13T07:09:00.000-07:00

Out of all the places I've visited I've never seen so many tourists with their backpacks full of laptops and cellphones as I have in Dharmasala. It's like a little hip haven for trendy travellers. I guess it's cheap to live here, so people can come here and work from home. Although, maybe they're are just surfing the internet and wasting time in a cafe when they could be exploring India. But hey, that's what I'm doing right now too. I'm just using someone else's computer.

Cellphones are rampant here. Everyone oand their uncle's brothers mother-in-law have one. It's absurd and annoying. One nice thing about hearing cellphone chatter over here, is that I don't understand what the people are saying.

That will be one of the things I will miss the most about being in a foreign country - the fact that I don't have to listen to other peoples annoying conversations. When I'm at a restaurant and some lady is yelling at her child or two people are arguing over something, it's all the same to me. It's just nice sounds. The musical cadance of a language I don't understand.

Here in Dharmasala, there are more Americans then I've seen in any other part of the country and their annoying meaningless banter is so annoying to listen to. I'm not saying that American conversations are more lame then Indians, I'm just saying thiers is the only ones I can understand.

Don't call the monkey

2008-03-13T07:03:00.000-07:00

The other day I was sitting on the porch of my hotel munching on some biscuits. In India cookies are called biscuits for some reason. I saw a monkey on this other roof and I taunted him with my cookie. Not sure why, I don't really like monkeys in the first place.

This monkey became interested and he jumped over to our balcony and proceded to dump out our trashcan and steal some rotten food. Another guy and I shooed him away and then had to clean up the garbage. I didn't tell him that I was the reason he came over here. I could tell him if I wanted to since he's over on a computer next to me, but it'll be our little secret.

Monkeys like it up here in Dharmasala, they're everywhere. The other evening Ash and I were eating on a rooftop restuarant when a monkey climbed up over the ledge right next to Ashlee. She immediately jumped up and ran away while I just sat and watched him. The monkey didn't get too close to the food because some restaurant workers came charging out with a big metal pole and screamed till the monkey left.

Apparently the big pole comes in handy since they had a couple by the door.

Indian English

2008-03-13T06:48:00.000-07:00

I'll miss quite a few things when I leave in India, but one of the things I'll miss most is the way the Indians use the english language. It's so unique.

When talking about being slow, they always say 'slowly slowly.' When talking about working hard they say 'I was working very hardly.' I tried to tell my friend Roop that 'hardly' means 'not much at all' but he just said that's the way they say things over here.

If someone is being jealous, they are 'jealousing me.' You can also be 'afraiding' as well. There was a sign that said, 'Child Beer.' I'm assuming it was really for chilled beer. There's a restaurant called the 'Chocolate Log.' I don't know what they serve and I never will.

The menu's are pretty funny too. This one place had different breakfasts for different countries. The American breakfast was typical - eggs, meat, potatoes, etc. The english breakfast was some nasty english food and the German breakfast was, toast, coffee, and a cigarette.

One of my favorites was a pizza place that advertised: Better pizza through technology and innovation. I'm not sure what technology they are using, but the pizza wasn't all that great.

The Dali Lama

2008-03-13T06:29:00.000-07:00

Dharmasala is the current home of the Dali Lama. Or as he's properly called, His Holiness the Dalia Lama. He's actually in town while I'm here, but he's been sick so he's had to cancel his normal talks he gives during the days. So no chance for me to hang with the man.

I did learn some interesting stuff about his situation though. I learned Tibet is screwed. The country of Tibet is like the Navajo nation in America. A small culturally unified group of people who are getting the shaft. China's plan is to overrun Tibet with Chinese people. Since there are over a billion Chinese, their plan will probably work.

Another interesting fact regards the Panchen Lama. The Panchen lama is the successor of the Dali Lama. The Panchen is chosen at a very young age by the Dali Lama and is educated and raised to follow in the footsteps of the man.

In China's attempt to continue their illegal rule over Tibet, they kidnapped the Panchen and probably killed him for all we know. He's been missing ten years. The worlds youngest political prisoner was eight years old. China then choose to pick their own Panchen and they decided he will be the next Dali Lama.

So when you watch the Olympics and see China is all their glory remember that this is the country that killed the next Dali Lama. Talk about bad karma. Whew... I'd hate to be those guys. Although living in the country that has the distinguished honor of being the only country on the planet to drop a nuclear bomb has it's own risks.

Sally Baker

2008-03-06T07:26:00.000-08:00

As an artist, I'm influenced by everything I come across. People play an important part in my life. I get so many new ideas from the people I come across. In the past, I was adamantly against watercolors. 'That medium is just for little old ladies. Everything can be done with tricks and shortcuts. It's an annoying medium. etc. etc.' My list of complaints went on and on.

Sally Baker was one of the first people who pushed me into the direction of watercolors. She gave me ideas and recomendations. She gave me little bits of knowledge that may not have seemed much at the time, but have really taken me far. That's how I learn anyway. A teacher tells me one or two things and I go with that for weeks, months, years, however long it takes and then I go back for a couple more bits of knowledge. 'Slowly slowly' as they say in India.

We talked about watercolors for a long time before I actually ever saw her work, and when I did I was blown away. Her work is completely opposite of mine, her procedures and work style are foriegn to me, but quality is quality and I can appreciate that anywhere. I figured I had this blog that people read it, so I'd tell everyone to check out her artwork. The watercolors she does are amazing.

Who wants to move to Reston, Virginia?

2008-03-06T07:13:00.000-08:00

There's nothing like being on vacation and being reminded of home. Right now I've learned that my tenants in my townhouse are moving out. What a bother. I just want to hang out and paint, I didn't come here to deal with this landlord crap.

Fortunately for me, I have the worlds best real estate agent. If you haven't heard of him, his name is Tom Kavanaugh. It's absurd what a good real estate agent he is. Anyone can sell a house, but Tom knows houses. He knows what sells, he knows how to sell them, he knows his market and he knows his buyers. And best of all, he knows me.

Here I am in India about as far away from my house as I can get, and I don't have to worry about a thing. He's taking care of everything. And I mean everything. He's dealing with the tenants, he's fronting the money to have it fixed up and he'll put it on the market when it's time. It's possible that when I return to America it will all be taken care of. Smooth and effortless, just like when I bought the house in the first place.

That was a story in itself. When I first wanted to buy, we looked and looked at a bunch of houses, I told him my requirements - backs to woods, private porch - and he did the rest. In fact he started writing the contract even before I saw the house. He calls me up at work and says 'go here, that's your house, I'm writing the contract now. Come to the office when you're done to sign it.' Now that is service.

Even when we were writing the contract, I didn't worry about a thing. I didn't read any of the papers, all I did was sign and initial wherever he said to. I didn't feel that it was my job to read all that stuff. If you've ever bought a house you know the ridiculous amount of paper work involved. I couldn't imagine reading all that legal mumbo jumbo. I figured that it is Tom's job to make sure I don't get ripped off. You may say that is naive, but life is all about surrounding yourself with people you trust, and that way there are no worries.

So if you're buying or selling a house in the VA/DC area, please contact Tom Kavanaugh. I'd put his contact information here, but I need to ask him first. So if you need his info, contact me and I'll be happy to give it to you. Tell him I sent you, but it wont' get you anything special. He treats all his clients in the same professional way. Although, I doubt he'd sell your house for you if you're in India, that's a special 'friend' deal.

Dharamasala

2008-03-06T07:03:00.000-08:00

Now I'm in Dharmasala. Home to the big man himself, the Dali Lama. He's on the computer behind me checking his email and surfing for the best prices on the latest cell phones. Did I mention how many indians have cell phones now? It's ridiculous. Their cellphones are better then ours too. American cellphones and phone companies are stuck in the stoneages. US coverage blows. Ther are places right outside our nations capitol where I can't get coverage.

Being in the mountains again has been nice. Kerala was the jungle, Jaisalmer was the desert and now I'm in the real mountains. The Himalaya's. Dharmasala is a small town, situated on a steep hillside. It's really laid back here. The shop sellers are less annoying, but they still have their moments. Last week I heard it snowed here, but now it's comfortable even at night.

More people smoke cigarettes then the rest of india. The rest of india chews this tobacco like stuff. I'm not sure what it is they are chewing exactly, but it most be addictive. After years of chewing this stuff, a persons teeth turn all red and then eventually fall out. I guess that's not that big of a deal in a country where you can't really get a divorce.

Westernization of the India Nation

2008-03-04T04:15:00.000-08:00

On the train ride I was speaking with the guy who sat across from me. I was asking him if he liked to watch cricket. His response was all too typical of the 'new' India. No, I like to watch WWE. The World Wrestling Federation goes by World Wrestling Entertainment now. I'm not sure if this a global change or just an India thing.
I was disappointed to hear this, but at the same time, it was something we could talk about since I've heard about wrestling from so many other people over here.
"Oh yeah, I bet you like Kali don't you? It's a shame about the Undertaker busting up his legs. He'll be out of it for awhile, but I hear he's now doing yoga. Which wrestler do you like? etc. etc."
I was suprised about how much I know about this useless information.

Another guy was asking me if I watched cricket and I told him I don't have a TV, so I don't watch TV. He was dumbfounded. A westerner who doesn't watch TV? An American at that? He asked me incredulously what I did in my free time. I listed off a handful of more interesting options such as, painting, hiking, rock climbing, guitar playing, reading, talking, laughing, joking, eating, being, etc. By his repsonse, I could tell that
none of these could match the amount of satisfaction that he receives from watching TV. I would have tried to explain to him things a little more in detail, but he was annoying and I didn't want to give him any more of my time.

Jaisalmer to Delhi - Overnight Train

2008-03-04T04:13:00.000-08:00

So this time around, we were prepared for the train ride. Our tiffen (a little india lunch box) was full of warm food made by a friend, warm clothes and a some sheets were handy in case of the cold and most of all, we were mentally prepared since we took the same trip a month ago.

Despite all this preparation, twenty hours is still twenty hours. In situations like these you can't speed time up other then with good conversations or some mental activity. For the indians, cards seems to be a popular past time, but only with the type of people who would play cards in the states. Usually groups of women aren't gambling with cards.

The people we sat with this time were pleasent enough. One was a early twenties guy out visiting his sister. Another two were a couple out travelling. At first there's always the awkwardness of being stuck in a small compartment with people you don't know. Just siting and staring. Occasional eye contact followed by a smile, paves the way for interaction. The conversation was good and that's about all you can ask for.

In the morning we awoke to a whole new set of people occupying the seats. I guess everyone else got off in Jaipur or Jodhpur. There was a french couple who kept to themselves. I feel bad for french, they seem to rude and no one wants to talk with them. This couple could have been nice, but they came off not nice so I didn't bother.

As the train approached Delhi more and more people climbed aboard. Soon the bench seat made for three, now had five people. Ash was on the other side with the two frenchies and they still had three people in their seat cause the women said 'no, no, no.'

Eventually one guy squeezed himself in, but there was a few others crowded around wanting a seat. There were two guys standing up next to the seats complaining about how there was a seat there. I asked what was up, and he said that there was another
seat over there and he was standing and that was a problem. I told him that all depends on your point of view. They didn't seem to have a problem with it. Seems like it was only his problem.

The guy was an annoying frat boy type punk. He had his buddy with him so he felt he could laugh and joke. On my lap was a blank pad and I was holding my pencil, he asked what I was doing so I told him I was getting ready to draw. Then I did this mean drawing of with him having big ears, goofy hair and a big gap between his face.
Once his friend got off the train, he felt shy and out numbered, so he just put on his headphones and zoned out.

It's too bad that headphones and the isolation of the individual is finding it's where over here to India. I thought that was purely an American phenomena. I think I'll continue with this thought in my next post.

Rom Rom Gee

2008-03-04T04:02:00.000-08:00

It was sad to leave Jaisalmer. After a month of being there I was getting used to things as they were. Eating with my friends, seeing the same familiar faces, and wandering around the alleyways that I know now like the back of my hand.
It would have been weird to wake up and not going out to paint, but this morning I woke up on a train surrounded by strangers, so I didn't have time to reflect on the way things were yesterday. I was just trying to realize where I was at the present moment.There were many goodbyes to be said, so the last day was spent wrapping things up. I had a few photographs I took and wanted to give as gifts to people. So I wandered around and found who needed to be found.

After that we headed over to my friend Roops for lunch and to pick up some rings I had made. This time, I actually made one myself. I beat it into shape, made it round from a straight peace of silver, melted it together and joined it, and finally carved it. My carving job was poor, so Roop helped make it look a little better.

Soon it was time to make it to the train station. Our friends sent us away with gifts and food, a open invite to return anytime.

If you're ever in Jaisalmer, I'd recommend stopping by Hari Om, jewlers to get yourself some amazing rings. I actually made them a website, but I don't know where I put it. Once I find out where it is, I'll post the link so you can see some amazing silver work. As they say in India, 'It will make your eyes happy."

Hey Friend!

2008-02-28T22:12:00.000-08:00

Here's somethign that I just can't stand. When you're walking down the street, these random people, sometimes store people, other times just bored people, will shout out after you've already walked by 'Hey Friend!' as they try to get your attention. 'Hello... hello,' they continue to holler as you ignore them and walk on by.

My issue with this is that, number one, you're talking to my back. Why wait till I walk by. Why not say 'hello' to my face. Only shady people talk behind someone's back. And I've got places to go, things to paint, so I don't want to have to turn around and say 'what do you want?' When most of the time, all they want is for you to spend your money in thier shop or to ask you the same mundane questions: What's your name, what's your country, how much money do you make a month.

The second issue is that the person is not really my friend. I don't even know them. I pick and choose my friends carefully. I don't just befriend anyone. I'm nice to everyone, but my friends are in a different category. My friends I can see everyday for a year, and then not show up for two years and when I return they will welcome me as if no time passed at all. That's the beauty of friendship.

I think Indians just like throwing the word 'friend' around cause it's familiar and friendly. In the states people throw around the word 'brother.' What's up Bro? What's going on brother? etc etc. And that's just as annoying.

I've fallen into that trap at times before, but I'm really lying. I know in the world we live in we are all 'brothers and sisters' in one sense or another, but I only have one brother. It might be different if you were raised in a family that had four siblings or more, but in mine there were two of us. So the bond is a little different. To put someone else in the same category as my brother is to lessen the status that my brother holds in my eyes.

So the next time some clown calls out to you, 'Hey friend, come into my shop and spend your money' Turn around and punch him in the face, knock his stack of postcards in the dirty gutter and ask him if he's still your friend. And the next time someone says 'Hey bro.' Ask him to give you two thousand dollars and you'll quickly find out who you're real brothers are.

SCRAM!

2008-02-28T21:48:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was out painting down some old street. I was near this tourist spot (The Patwon Havelli) so I ended up meeting with the shoe shiner kids who are really cool. Between the three of them, they had one pack of life saver type candies. The one kid who was opening it offered me one, and then the other two kids each offered me one as well. I said one was enough, but they each wanted to give me one. I thought that was pretty generous of them. It seems easier to give if you have lots of stuff, but it's much more genuine if you don't have anything.

Later this big group of school kids came by. They were probably in elementary school and they were as annoying as they could be. Loud, obnoxious, asking stupid questions and then repeating these stupid questions. It was quite irratating and normally I can deal with crowds while I'm painting.

One of these annoying children offered me a piece of candy, but I was already chewing one, so I just laid it on my lap. Eventually these annoying brats left and I offered the candy to one of these mellow respectful shoe shiners, none of them wanted it, so we just threw it in the gutter. I didn't want it cause I dont' feel like taking things from people that annoy me but I was impressed that the shoe shiners didn't want it since they dont' have anything.

A while later, we are all sitting there watching me paint and this old hag lady comes around the corner with another guy - possibly her son or something. The guy starts yelling at the kids telling them to get off the porch. Then the old lady yells at me and tells me to get off the porch. Then she retracts her statement and asks if I have any money. Indicating that if I do, I can stay. I say no, and she just yells for me to scram.

I was totally suprised by this, cause most people are pretty cool when I'm out painting. It was a good reminder that not everyone in the world is cool. After the old bat, yells at me, I start to pack up my things. Of course I do this as slowly as possible. I try to be as careful and delibrate as possible. Each move is slow and cautious. With my brush, I delicately clean it off in the water, slowly dry off the excess water on my towel, then straighten out the bristles making sure the entire brush is in perfect condition. I've never taken that long to pack up all my things in my life. Normally I'm like, 'bing, bang, boom, done. Let's go.' But like I said, this lady was irritating to me, so I was obnoxious in return. I can be such an ass sometimes when I want to be.

It's time to go

2008-02-26T20:41:00.000-08:00

Well I've been here in Jaislamer for almost three weeks. It's a pretty small town to be here for that long and I'm thinking it's now time to head on out.

When I first arrived, I could walk anywhere I felt like it. Then after a little while, I started walking down different streets to avoid pleasent conversations with good people or annoying talks with boring people. Now it seems I can't walk anywhere without seeing someone I've talked with before. The other night it took me two hours to walk back to the hotel from where I was painting.

I think being a painter, I get treated a little different the most people. Usually a little more respectfully. I'm still not exactly sure why that is just yet. Painting is cool and all, but if people liked it so much why don't they buy art or paint themselves?

I think some of the respect comes from the fact that I'm just content in my chilling. I'm not trying to find some excitement, I'm not trying to get drunk, I'm not wasting time with silly conversations, I'm just being. Just sitting there and looking. When someone sees someone else happy, it makes the first person happy. When someone sees someone else content and peaceful, it brings some peace into thier lives. But I really don't know, and I'm still wondering about it all myself.

The way things are

2008-02-25T08:50:00.000-08:00

As I was painting today, I was showing this kid my sketch book. There were quite a few people around me. The kid was a shoe shiner who was deaf. There are two of these kids and this one is different from the one in the previous story, but this one is actually even cooler with an even better attitude. He was looking through my sketch book when this other guy reached over to look at it. I grabbed it and said that he could look at it when this kid was finished. But when I tried to hand the kid back my book, he had already took off and was waving back with a smile as he walked away. I then gave the book to the other guy.

That shoe shiner kid was used to getting stepped on. (No pun intended) His life was one of always being at the back of the line and having last choice and leftovers. I tried to give him a little equality, but he was so used to being pushed out of the way that he didn't bother even trying. Things are the way they are, and I can't change that. Every country has it's problems and issues, just like every individual has his problems and issues. That only makes sense, since countries are only made up of individuals anyway. One simple artist can't change the ways of the worlds, but they can change me and make me appreciate things in a different light. And by these changes in myself, I can hopefully pass on a little positivity to those I come across. I can't make a shoe shiner the president of some corporation, but I can at least make his day.

Rich Guy / Poor Guy

2008-02-25T08:15:00.000-08:00

Today I went and painted by the Patwon Havelli again. I've been painting here every so often because the views are nice and eventhough it's a major tourist attraction, I can still find some shady seats where I can paint in peace.

One problem about this spot is this annoying Indian guy who lives nearby. I don't know his name, but I know his sister is Hemleta. She's really sweet. One day I was paintnig there and Ashlee was sitting next to me, and Hemleta invited Ash in and they hung out, drank chai and Hemleta gave Ash and beautiful red sari and showed how to wear it and basically do a bunch of girl stuff.

Hemleta's brother is an oaf. He kept bugging me about me giving him a painting. I told him he could buy one I said $200 USD. He's replied, 'oh 200 rupees? Here you go..." Then he went on and on and on. So today when I went back and was painting a different view of the havelli, he showed up. Today he was more annoying then before. 'Give me, give me give me' was his basic conversation. It was obvious this guy had tons of money, he lived in one of these intricately carved, beautiful havelli's, his clothes were clean and pressed and he had that 'I've got money' attitude that's easy to spot on people.

I tried to tell him that this was my job. I'd be happy to give him a print of it, if he liked. But this wasn't good enough for him - only an orginal. His arrogance and greed annoyed me to the point that I was going to start being rude, but since his sister was Ashlee's friend, I held in my negative response.

Later that day, when I was out walking around looking for that guy getting married, I came across another guy I see daily. He's a young kid whose deaf and spends his days shining shoes. I always smile and we sign language with each other and say hello and I can tell he's cool. As I was walking around he was sitting drinking chai and he motioned for me to sit down with him. At first, I was declined, but then I said ok. And we sat down and I ordered a chai. After we drank it, he totally caught me off guard by offering to pay for my chai. I was like, 'no no no' please, let me. but he insisted again. I eventually overruled him, and paid for both though.

Now here's this kid who makes his living off of other people's generosity. Shining shoes seems like a hard job. In India, where people throw thier trash on the road and cows poop everywhere, I'm sure it's as bad as it gets. He's as poor as you can get, doing a crappy job, but he's got a great attitude. To top it all off, he wanted to pay for my chai. That one simple gesture made up for all the other times these annoying children wouldn't shut up about asking for "one school pen? one chocolate?"

Thinking back on the situation, I should have let him pay for my chai. Not because I didn't have the money, but because he wanted to. He wanted to share. People like buying chai for other people, it's a sign of friendship. In the long run, I would have made up for it by buying him some samosa's and other food anyway. So I think next time, I'll let him get the chai. That five rupee's he spent on the chai, was nothing compared to the feeling and satisfaction of sharing a tea with a friend as an equal. I think that is priceless and in India, in his position a situation like that is hard to come by.

Now if we compare this cool kid, with this other fat f*ck who just begs like a street rat for painting that he doesn't really care about. I think he just wants it, just because. It shows two different types of people living in two different types of world. Since I can chose my company, I'll chose the deaf shoe shiner anyday.

Lets' talk about life

2008-02-25T07:54:00.000-08:00

I've noticed since I've been here that many people just like talking about living as compared to living life. Some people talk all spiritual and it sounds as if they have thier life dialed. They do good for strangers, they're nice to poor people, etc. I find this chatter annoying at times.

Why not live life and not talk about living life. Just do what is right, don't talk about doing what you think is right. Sometimes, I'm nice to poor people, sometimes I'm not. For instance, I was painting today and this group of young adults came up to me and asked for some money. I was like, 'chello' (go in hindi) leave me alone. I assumed they were like these fake sadus that run around asking for backsheesh. Real sadu's (religious men) don't bother tourists jingling cans of coins. Real sadu's are too busy being religious.

So I disregarded these guys, but then one of the guys I know who was hanging out watching me paint, explained to me that it's a wedding and I should give five rupees. So I did. Then he explained to me, that the guy getting married was poor and that's how it was done around there. In families where the people have money, the family gives the newly weds cash, but in this case, he walks around town and does it. Needless to say, I felt a little bad, so I wandered around looking for him, to give him a little more.

As I was wandering around, I came across part of the wedding procession. In India, the groom rides around on a horse with loud music and a band before he heads over to the brides house. The group that was part of the wedding procession seemed funny at first.

They were dressed up in dirty old marching band uniforms, with some beat up dusty drums, pushing this heavy cart up this steep hill and having a terrible time of it. Their uniforms were half hanging off and none of them fit. The cart was falling backwards and they just seemed like one motley crew. I chuckled at the scene, but then thought about how it was kinda sad cause they were poor and doing the best they could for this celebration.

Mentally I compared it to a rich family who go through all this pomp and ceremony, but in reality thier procession is just the same as this poor family, but with more western glitz and glamor. Clean uniforms and shiney shoes don't make the wedding today, what makes it is friends and good company. This dirty looking group who were struggling to push up this cart, were laughing and joking the whole way up. Life is in the attitude of the people, not in anything else. Thier attitude was great, mine wasn't, but I changed it for the better.

I can talk about how I know how to live life and do right and be a great person, but we all make mistakes. We all make unnecessary judgements against people. I just try to acknowledge my ignorance and change my ways before I fall into the same old mental routines and stereotypes.

If I find that guy again, I'll be happy to help him out some more, if I don't I'll just help someone else out. That's the best I can do.

Namaskar

2008-02-24T07:51:00.000-08:00

Whenever I head over to my friend Roop's house, I always have to go through this one part of town that's slightly annoying. Mostly because of the children. Now, don't get me wrong, I love kids, but the whole way through it's one rupee, one school pen, one rupee, one school pen. Well, actually they've upgraded, now it's ten rupee, one school pen, ten rupee, one school pen. I guess inflation has hit the children the hardest.

This time when I was passing through as usual the children were screaming 'hello! hello! hello!' and I responded with the usual 'namaste' but there was this group of quiet children just singing to themselves and one said 'hello' and I replied 'namaste' but then she replied with 'Namaskar' which is the respectful way of addressing someone. I use 'namaskar' for older people, women sometimes and any sadus or religious men I come across. It's just funny how simple little things like that make a difference.

There are times when I greet an old man with Namaskar and I can tell he notices it. Then when I practice some of my Hindi he really appreciates my effort. I don't think many tourists that come to India bother with the language, because every time I say just a few words everyone is impressed. It gives me a little more respect then they might otherwise give me.

Painting with Children

2008-02-24T00:46:00.000-08:00

Last night I was painting and all these kids were swarming around me. Some were little brats and a little annoying. Some were cool and cheerful. Overall I wasn't too bothered, by it. I try to tune them out, but apparently the scene was being watched by this older guy. He's a brahmin who hangs out sometimes and I've painted around him before.

In the middle of my painting, I hear this voice that screams out like a lion and says something in Hindi. All the children scatter and I turn around and see him sitting there. He was just trying to give me a little peace and for the rest of the drawing I was disturbed by anyone.

Today when I was painting at this other place, once again I was the object of attention. Throughout my walks around town I've befriended this little clique of shoe polisher kids. The first time I was painting and they approached me, they were very respectful. When other kids came up and started asking for rupees and being annoying, these kids were like... 'lay off pal, he's cool.'

So I'm painting and the kids are watching and one of the adults who has a store nearby yelled at these kids to clear out fast. They were hesitant, but then he came over and intimidated them with some force. They scattered for a bit, but returned every so often to check up on the painting.

Throughout all of this, I mostly just watch and let things be as they may. I'm not going to change any Indian's perspective on their social structure. In India it is just as rigid as it is in America. Shoe shiners will always be on the bottom of the hiearchy. All I can do is treat them as equals when they're around me.

Tourist Syndrome

2008-02-22T08:16:00.000-08:00

Today I was thinking more about the tourist versus locals situation here or anywhere else that's a tourist town for that matter.

This evening I was sitting near a store painting. Some of the store people were selling their wares to all the people passing by. "Cigarettes, Internet, Postcards, Nice Shirt, Shoes, Books, Stuff, Junk, Clothes, Come spend your money, etc."

Most people probably don't like to have to sell this way. But in Jaisalmer, the tourists usually stay for only a day or two, so the money comes in quick, but leaves just as fast. Many tourists don't deal with this type of salesmanship very well so they look down and walk on by. The salesman then gets rejected then feels a little bad for two reasons. One, he just had to lower himself to such a practice and secondly he got rejected.

This double shot of annoyance brings up some animosity towards the tourist who caused this feeling in the first place. So it's a double edged sword. The tourist is the means to thier livelihood, but at the same time, a destruction of their past way of life.

But everything changes and the tourists are here now, but they won't be forever. The smart ones plan for the days when they're not here.

The Undertaker

2008-02-22T07:54:00.000-08:00

The past few days I've had to break the hearts of some of my Indian friends by letting them know the truth about television. The truth is, no matter how much pomp and show they have, and no matter how many individuals are ther watching it live, it's a sad fact of life that WWF just isn't real. It's a play. A staged fight scene like something you might see in a Hollywood movie.

"Nooo... they're really jumping on each other. They're really hitting each other."

"No my friend," I respond sadly, "It's all a farce."

"But they're really hitting each other. They're jumping from the ropes... etc. etc."

This discourse was initiated by a long description about how Kali was fighting the Undertaker. I felt as though I was having a conversation with my nephews back in the day. It's sad enough that TV's are becoming more and more prevalant in India, but it is even sader that WWF has come to India.

I'm not sure if they belived me, but my final example was in reference to some shady fighting where one of the wrestlers took an iron bar and hit the other guy on the head and the leg when the ref wasn't looking. I told him that if he thought this was real, he could hit Roopa on the head with an iron bar as hard as he could. If Roop was still alive then WWF is real, but I was of the opinion that Roop would be dead as a doornail. The experiment was never followed through and thier still watching WWF.

Hey, at least I tried.

Communication

2008-02-21T02:19:00.000-08:00

As my weeks here progress I'm slowly learning more and more Hindi each day. I still can't understand what most people say, but I can communicate just fine.

One of the things I like about not speaking the local language is my ability to read people. Since the words people speak are unintelligble, I rely on other cues. Body language, eye contact, posture, tone of voice, etc. Using these other clues it's easier to see when someone is genuine or not.

It's easier to pick up the vibe a person has in this scenario. When I understand the language someone is saying they may be able to con me with pretty words or compliments. In India, I can only rely on my gut instinct, and my gut is always right so long as my brain doesn't confuse the message.

When I'm out painting, people are always coming to watch. Some talk with me, some I talk back with. It's easy to tell which people are genuinely interested or which only want to mess with the tourist. Today a group of young men came and sat around me. Some spoke a little English, some none. The group dynamic was so easy to read. There was one guy who was a handsome man and clearly the leader of the group, but it was obvious he was the most insecure as well. He was showing me his Ray Ban sunglasses and just being annoying all around. He asked if I could paint a picture of him, and I said for $100 bucks I can.

"Oh, aren't you my friend?" he said. I replied that I wasn't, but if he wanted a painting he could pay for it. After that he was quiet for awhile and I chatted with the other cooloer guys in the group.

Almost every shop owner asks how you are doing, but a few of them actually seem to care. And these I respond, the others I ignore. It's good practice just reading peoples true character. Looking at the inside of they are as compared to the outward expressions of who they want to be.

Tricks of the Trade

2008-02-21T02:04:00.000-08:00

Today I was sitting in front of this guys shop painting. We started talking about the state of India today. He said he lived in Jailsalmer for his whole life. I said he probably saw many changes since his childhood. My last trip here was in 2004 and I noticed quite a few changes. More stores, more tourists, more touts. There are times when walking around town is extremely annoying. There's people saying 'Sir, Madam, you like my shop?' 'Want to spend money in my shop?' 'Two for 100, no? Three? Four? Five? Seven for 100?' At times it's best to walk with your head down and aviod eye contact.

The guy I was talking with was telling me how all this tourist money coming in brings in some shady characters. There's an artist down from my hotel who buys prints, then sits in front of his shop, and paints borders on them. Then he says that the work is hand drawn. Clever.

Another worse story is how these guides bring groups of tourists to large shops and scam their money. See in India there are these guides. These guides just sit around, looking for googling tourists and then offer to show them around town. The guides are always all spiffed up in some lame looking half suit, half indian dress outfit. You can spot a guide a mile away. Wherever the guide takes a tourist, if the tourist buys something, the guide gets a commission. Usually around 30%. It's such a scam.

My friend Raja works in this shop and if someone walks in and wants a ring he'll say one price, if the tourist has a guide, he has to say a higher price to pay for the guides commission. Some guides have this particular scam where they will call a store ahead of time and say they are bringing in a big group of tourists. Then the store owner will go get a group of kids and put them out back and give them some pencils and paper. When the group arrives, the tourists see this impromptu 'school' and think that the store is doing good for the community. The owner may say that 1/2 the profits go to helping these kids learn. The tourists feeling nice buy many things from the shop and often give big donations. The guides get 30%.

If you're planning on going to India. Buyer beware.

The Desert Festival

2008-02-20T07:44:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is the last day of the desert festival. Every year there is a three day extravaganza with camels, and festivities and music and all the required accoutrements.

The whole town is a buzz. Everyone seems to be talking about it. The tourists have come out in full force. It's quite the party atmosphere compared to just a few days ago.

On the first day, I made my way down to the stadium where the initial action. My arrival time coincided with the "Mr. Desert Festival." I stayed five minutes, maybe six and then went on my merry way to go paint.

I always feel a little bad when people put on these party type events and they end up being bunk. It's not my fault and I shouldn't feel bad, but I know people put in all this effort, time, and energy. There are people who are really excited about this lame desert festival.

It's not just this festival that I feel bad about, it's all those lame events that we've all attended in the past. I think I sympathize with people because I have to put on art shows and show my work and when no one shows up, it's lame. Fortunately for me, I'm a mellow guy and if I have one or two friends in the room with some good conversation or no conversation at all, I'm still happy. My needs are basic.

Today I didn't bother going to the festival and I won't bother going tomorrow either. I just want people to stop putting on lame events and only put on good ones so I don't have to feel bad about the world being filled up with more ways to waste quality time.

Another View

2008-02-14T09:22:00.000-08:00

For this post, I thought I'd share an email from a friend. It seems that India offers everyone what they're looking for. I'm searching for a little peace and some quality painting time, but if you're interested in a little more drama, well then there's some of that too.

Tiru is freaking intense- the real India- so far Ive seen a dead girl in the back of a truck with her eyes staring open in a milky glaze, sadhus vomiting in hepatitus guters, a 3 yr old walking a tightrope on a wheelwith 3 pots on her head and then an argument ensuing about child rights, and there is this creepy American hypnotherapist who looks like JimMorrison, hypnotizing all the drippy western hippy chicks ... Its full on - a bit of a low grade hippie sex scene.

So that is one view of India. It's a bit different then mine. Although I did see a girl on a type rope, but that's what I do all summer long, so to me it's good natural fun. And today I did see a dead cow. It was blocking the traffic in some back alley. Later in the day, I went to a friends house and he was having a puja - a religious ceremony. It was pretty interesting.

What I notice about other people's religious ceremonies is the laid back air to them. It seems when religion and ceremony is a part of your daily life, things are a little more laid back. I had the opportunity to attend a Native American healing ceremony one time. It was an amazing experience. From sunset to sunrise we were all chanting and singing. The intent was there, but there was still this laid back attitude. I remember the main holy man who was leading for most of the evening, would ask if anyone else wanted to lead, but people were like, no thanks, you go ahead. And he was laugh and his expression would say, 'alright lazy bones, I'll continue"

Here in India, it's the same way. There was a brahmin preist and five sadhus sitting around and chanting and focusing thier intent, yet there were all sorts of other people milling around, chatting, cooking, cleaning. It was like this ritual was just another part of a normal day. If you go to church and think about god for only an hour every week, then there's this formality to it, since you feel like you have to cram in all this piousness and piety into one hour. In the long run, you're only fooling yourself.

The Jaisalmer Painter

2008-02-13T06:53:00.000-08:00

The other morning I had a nice suprise. I was walking through the fort looking for my first paintnig and this guy stops me and tells me to wait and look at something. He goes into his house and gets a newspaper, pulls out the middle section and there I am in all my glory. A big photograph of me painting some buildings in the old part of town.

It seems that the guy who took my photo yesterday wasn't lying when he said that my photo would be all over Rajasthan. When he said that I thought, 'yeah sure buddy. I believe you.' But sure enough, one day later there I was. Some gora (white skinned) sitting and painting on the second page of the paper.

Apparently everyone reads the paper here because I didn't get more then a hundred yards before some other guy came up and told me about my new found fame. I chat for a bit and he wants to celebrate, but I'm on my way to go painting near my friends shop. I arrive at my friends place and he's talking about this mornings suprise as well. A mini celebrity in a city where I can't even speak their language. Today when I was out painting, some guy came up and said he saw my pictuer in the paper as well. Apparently this media thing works.

If I had thought about things a little more, I would have given the guy my business card and my website address, but marketing has never been my strength. My usual marketing tatics involve having my friends and clients talk about my artwork to thier friends and family. So far it's working quite well, but maybe one day I'll pursue something a little more business like. The problem is that is not my style and when you try a style that isn't your own, it doesn't work. For now, I'll just continue being myself while keeping quiet and letting others do the work for me. That way it gives people something to talk about that's more interesting then sports or the news.

A town for Tourists

2008-02-09T06:16:00.000-08:00

I think there is something negative about tourist towns. I haven't exactly nailed it down yet, but the vibe is different then most towns.

Jaisalmer has changed a little bit since I came here last. The same amount of tourists, but more shops and more hotels competing for the same amount of money. So the touts and hawkers are a little more persistent.

I've met up with some of my friends from the past and it's been good. Eating at friends houses amongst good company always beats eating out. This morning, Ashlee and I helped cook and make some chapati's. This is some knowledge that Ash was anxious to bring back with us.
Some of the other locals seem to have a holier than thou attitude. It's like they despise the tourists, yet without them they wouldn't be riding around on thier fancy motorcycles.

I notice this same attitude in Yosemite. I work with some people that just DESPISE the tourists that visit. Some are waiters and they walk out in the restaurant with smiles on, but when they walk into the kitchen, they use some of foulest language I've ever heard. Although part of this goes with the waiter culture. It doesn't matter what restaurant you go to, most waiters don't like you, they only like your tip. Any request is seen as annoying and any conversation is only to amuse you. Their main concern is getting off in a few hours and hanging out with friends.

In the long run, this attitude of superiority will only make less tourists come here. So they're only shooting themselves in the foot. I know if I didn't have friends here, I wouldn't come back. But I'm good at ignoring things I don't like, so I enjoy my time here. The old fort in the desert is amazing. The sun on the castle is beautiful, the air is fresh when it's not dinner time and people are cooking with coal in the streets and every night I sleep a sound comfortable sleep. In the end that's all I care about.

Twenty hours on a train

2008-02-09T06:12:00.000-08:00

Once we finally found our seats amongst all the chaos, we put away our luggage and tried to get ourselves mentally prepared for the long ride. There were three other people in our compartment. One was a quiet younger guy, the other two were your basic adult.
We were all pretty quiet at first, but by the end of the ride we were all conversing as best as we could. I ended up learning a good deal of hindi.

About an hour into the train ride, more and more people started getting on the train. Apparently some people just ride for a few stops, but when this happens appropriate seat numbers don't matter much since everyone just crams in. Our little compartment ended up being where the card players came. There was probably 12 or 16 people all sitting around watching four or five guys play cards. I felt bad for Ash, as the female, she was definitely out numbered. I ended up sketching the whole scene while she sat and knited her hat.

Eventually most of these guys left and a new guy came on who was a friend of two guys in my compartment. The minute he sat down, I could tell he was cool. It's amazing how you can tell what type of vibe someone lays down without even being able to communicate with them.
Some of the guys knew a little english and from that we were communicating the best we could. The three friends were all with the Army and heading out to Jaisalmer to go back to work.
At one point we were all talking and laughing loud and listening to music on one guys cell phone. Cell phones are big here too, although the phones here are better. Video, music, bluetooth, etc. This guy was from a village and he's playing music videos on his mobile for the cellphoneless American.

We had a real party atmosphere going on and it attracted some other people. These two other guys came over with thier own cell phone playing music and wanted to join the party. But it was evident that the vibe they were laying down wasn't cool. Once they arrived, the joking and laughing slowed down and that uncomfortable silence settled on us as it always does when someone stains the crowd.

I liked the way the Indians handled it. In America I feel that some egos would be puffed up and people would use intimidation to push people out. Here in India, they just made them feel silly and not including them into the conversation. Eventually they left and we got back to having a good time.

EVentually it was time to sleep and laid out the berths and settled down for a night of freezing cold. Ashlee and I were about as unprepared for the cold as you could be. I had two bed sheets and Ash had a thick shawl. Neither of which did the trick.

In the middle of the night, admist the shivering and turning over, what seemed like an entire eighth grade class got on board. There was no pretending to be polite and quiet. They were as loud as they would have been at recess. Eventually they calmed down, or I fell asleep and I dreamed.

I dreamt that I woke up and Ashlee had put a big plush mat underneath me and she laid thick blankets over top me. All my friends from highschool were hanging around and there was an overall happy vibe going on. Of course, that was far from reality when I arose.
In the middle of the night, Ashlee bent down over her bunk to tell me it was 3:00am and we only had two more hours. I felt bad to tell her, that I was mistaken and the train didn't arrive till 2pm. She took the news well outwardly, but on the inside I think there was a tinge of disappointment.

The next morning and day was more of the same. Laughing, joking, talking. At the end, I was invited to stay at this one guys village next time we come through. I actually might take him up on the offer too. It sounded like a mellow peaceful place.

Trying to catch the train

2008-02-07T22:13:00.000-08:00

At 5:45 in the evening we had to catch our train ride to Jaisalmer from Delhi. Due to some time wasting on our part, we were a little late to the train station. Getting to a train station late in India is a bad idea. I recommend against it.

First, it's a place of total chaos to begin with and second, most everything is written in Hindi. The station has 16 different platforms and we didn't know where ours was. We asked these two men who looked like they worked there and they told us to go to platform 16. So we race on down to 16. We walk up and down the entire length of the train and see nothing that says we belong there. So we walk down platform 17, again nothing. So we ask some one and that person says platform 10. Now our time is running short so we scurry along, big huge backpacks and all. We walk up and down the length of platform 10 and realize that it's not our train either. Awesome.

So we ask yet another person, but at this point I've given up hope. He tells us to try platform 10. So we race up the stairs and back down the stairs to platform 10. On the sides of the trains, they post the names and seating arrangements for every car. So Ash and I are racing up and down the side of the train trying to read all these dittos taped to the sides.

Amongst all this chaos and noise and people and smells and fumes, we finally see a little piece of sanity. There at the bottom of a ripped up piece of paper falling from the side of the train we see the words that are so familiar to us, "Ashlee Dixon seat 18, Kevin Maddrey seat 19" It's amazing the feeling that seeing those simple names gave us. We get on the train and set ourselves down for a night and a day on the train.

How much to the train station?

2008-02-07T21:50:00.000-08:00

So catching a taxi or a rickshaw ride in India is always an adventure. When we left Kovalam, we needed a rickshaw to the airport. Rickshaws are little three wheeled vehicles. They are open on the sides, but have a roof and there's enough room for two people and two big backpacks. Although you can also see a group of six Indians all packed into them as well.

Since we were carrying our large packs and walking down the strip to the place where the cabs all hang out, we were walking targets for salesmen. People come up and bug us for rooms. 'Nice room, only 200.' ' You need room?' 'Clean rooms, western toilets.' This one rickshaw driver came up to us and bug us the whole way. I had my price that I would pay because I asked someone else what a fair price was. He was saying 'No no no... it's this far, two people, big packs, etc.'

I told him that's fine, you can go give someone else a ride. He bugged me long enough that I decided to give him a chance. We drove to the city and he stopped across the street at our hotel.
"Our hotel is over there on the other side of this busy street." I didn't want Ash or I to have to lug our packs across this mad house of a road. He said there was no parking. I was annoyed cause I could have taken another car taxi that offered the same price, but I thought this guy was alright. It just shows that you never know. All I can do is work with the information I have at hand. If the guy turns into a scrub later, then that's his fault not mine.

In Delhi, I had a price in mind when I needed a ride to the train station. So I was asking around and people come bombard you from all sides. Asking for rooms or to eat in their restaurant or for rickshaw rides. I just ignore them most of the time and avoid eye contact. Sometimes I'm rude as can be, but for the most part I try to be polite and silent.

Although there was this one annoying guy who ran up right in front of me bugging me about a room I think, I didn't pay attention and I walked into him, pushing him and I think he fell into the dirty street. I didn't notice though. That was his fault for walking right in front of someone and annoying them.

Painting at the Mujahideen Temple

2008-02-03T02:27:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Ash and I headed out of town to this muslim temple that's down the coast a bit. I first saw it a few weeks ago from this rocky out crop and it looked like it had some painting potential.

It was about a mile away from where we were staying, but it was a world apart from the mentality here. India is like Washington DC sometimes. This block is loaded with high class living, the next block is the ghetto.

I asked Ash to wear her shawl because she already stood out of the crowd, but with those long, blonde, curly locks blowing in the wind, she would have stood out like a man eating a hamburger in Delhi.

On the way down to the temple, we passed the Indian Wave Energy Project. A few years ago there was a project that tried to harness the energy of waves to generate power. It was going strong for a bit, but then a big wave came and wrecked the project. It's too bad though, because it is such a good idea. Waves roll in daily, oil is doesn't. Unless your in San Francisco bay, then it rolls up on the shore quite often.

Once we arrived at the temple we wandered around trying to find somewhere to paint. Once we found a good spot, we were surrounded by curious children. First they were asking for school pens every five seconds, but once I started painting, they stopped begging and just watched.

It's amazing how much respect an artist gets. Once they saw me start to paint, there entire mood changed. Even the adults who came by gave me instant respect. It happens all the time, but I still feel honored. People would come up and stand right in front of me. Before I had an opportunity to ask them to move, a member of the audience would speak up and tell the other person, 'Hey, hey hey, clear the way! Can't you see he's painting the temple?' Of course I couldn't undertsand any word they were saying, but body langauge and tone of voice says more then actual words.

The painting was difficult because of the crowds, the intense wind, and the sand that was blowing incessantly. One child kept holding my palette cause he wanted to feel cool. I let him since I could tell he felt special. Other kids were behind me and wanting to touch my shaved head. In circumstances like these it's a real challenge to stay focused, but I always appreciate a good challenge. It makes me wonder how some artists have their studio and are able to work in a room with no distractions, a perfectly comfortable chair, thier favorite music and all the ammenities like a bathroom, running water, electricity, etc.

A trip to the tip

2008-02-01T22:26:00.000-08:00

The other day I had the opportunity to head down to the southern tip of India. Apparently it's one of the few places around that you can see the moon rise and the sunset over one ocean. Sounds nice enough, right? Wrong.
I learned two lessons from this trip. The first was the one I've had to learn time and time again - don't have expectations.

My idea of the trip was to be dropped off on the beach and then the other tourists do thier touring and I go out and paint. When it's time to go, I head back and we all head home.

The reality of the trip was completely opposite. It involved a big bus, full of a bunch of people being shuffled in and out going from one spot to the next. Our first destination was some waterfalls. The water falling was nice, but the acres and acres of concrete surrounding them really took away from the scene. After standing around doing nothing, we headed to a temple which didn't interest me too much, and then we went to breakfast. In the bus and then out of the bus then back in the bus.

Our next stop was to the very southern tip of India. There's a town there that I didn't bother to remember the name, because I know I'll never go back. We shuffle off the bus and this time we get shuffled onto a barge and head to this little rocky island with an enormous statue build on it.

The statue itself was amazing, but we didn't have much time to enjoy it since we had to get on another barge and head over to another rocky island to see a temple. After a quick scurry around this temple, it's back onto the barge, back onto land, then back on the bus.

The highlight of the island hop wasn't for me, but for the Indian's who wanted to have thier picture taken with a white guy. I was happy to oblige. Seeing the smiles on thier faces and enjoyment, took away from the dismal air hanging around my trip. Once one person saw that I didn't mind the photos, others came along and joined in the fun.

Now it's time for lunch. So the bus takes us to this cafeteria place and the food was delicious. We stayed here longer then we should have, which was odd since there wasn't anything there. I did enjoy a talk I had with this gardner there. He was teaching me hindi and I learned some important words and when I return to the states I told him I'd send him the picture I took of us and a pack of American writing pens.

After lunch we finally head to the beach. Alright, things are looking up I thought, but once again my expectations were dashed. The bus parked us on top of this hill and the beach was below us. "Whoo Hoo" I screamed as I headed down to the beach. (Well, not really, but in my head I was thinking that.) It didn't take long for me to realize that this wasn't a beach at all. It was a toilet. The stench was my first clue, the second was the all the dookie everywhere. If that wasn't enough of a clue, the man on the rocks doing his duty out in the open was my final clue.

Ok. No beach. No swimming. Fine, I'll go paint. Normally, I can paint anything anywhere. It's the beauty of not having a particular 'style.' This time, I was at a loss. The wind was blowing fierce and there were people eveywhere. The places where there wasn't someone selling, squating, or begging, only held garbage.

When I tell some people I'm heading to India, they get this expression on their face that says 'why?' The southern tip of India is what they are picturing in their mind. This was actually my first experience of this side of India, and boy did it stink. Lilterally.

As I'm wandering around to paint, I'm passing stall after stall of people selling junk. The junkiest of junk. Little plastic trinkets, key chains, broken plastic toys, and toys that will be broken shortly. It was so pitiful really. It made me think of our shopping in the west and at the heart of it, it's no different then this nonsense. Just a bunch of poor people buying useless junk.

After an hour of shuffling through crowds I find a restaurant that offers some respite. I sit with a few friends and we take in the air conditioning and watch the world go by from the security that comes from a window of glass.

Finally it's time to meet up at the bus. I'm thinking it's time to go, but nooooo. It's time to watch the sunset near the stinking, poopie beach. You may think that sounds nice, but it was cloudy. C'mon, you've got to be kidding me, can't we just leave? Nope. We are on a bus, and this bus has a schedule. Realizing my fate, I go sit on the bus and meditate while the flies land on my head and the cows eat the plastic wrappers on the street.

Now the sun is set. The cows have moved on and it's time to go home, right? Wrong. Now time to head to yet another temple. This temple was actually the most beautiful, but it was so late and I was so ready to head home. Once at the temple, we all shuffled off the bus and met a tour guide. Apparently we were a little behind schedule and the tour guide was ready to give us the summary tour of the place.

"Come, come, come. Look here. Krishna, statue, stars! Come, come, move one. Here we have some pillars that make noise. Come Come come, hurry we must go here.Look up, neat statue. Come, come, come."

As we follow around this maniac tour guide, we come to a place where the devout are supposed to climb some steps, wipe some stuff on their head, eat some prasad, and head on through. A long line of Indian men were waiting trying to offer their praise to their god before the temple closed. Instead of waiting in line, our tour guide, let us cut in front of the line and go through the process.

To me, this act was the crowning glory on an obnoxious day. Here were these people who truely belive in what they were doing, and they have to wait while these white, clown, tourists go through the process with no heart, and no belief? It was just as pathetic as the beach. I decided to wait for this circus elsewhere.

Finally after the longest day of my life (slight exageration) we get on the bus and head home. I fall asleep on the bus and I wake up to this horrible sound of crunching metal. The bus is going backwards down this steep hill. The guy in front of me is saying 'What is this driver doing? We've come all this way only to die as our bus falls into the lake." Ahhh... nothing like a relaxing day out of the Ashram.

Final Goodbyes

2008-01-31T10:00:00.000-08:00

So today was the final morning being at the Ashram. After five weeks it was time to go. It was a good way to start the trip. It cleansed my body, mind and made me apprciate how much time really is in a day. There are times when I complain about not having enough time to do what I need to do, but I really should be complaining about my lack of time mangement skills.

This morning I woke at 4am to the sound of Ashlee's voice saying softly... "good moooorning." As I turned over, I saw that Ashlee was dead asleep. "Ewww... that's creepy," I thought and tried to fall back asleep as fast as possible. Then I heard it again and realized I made plans to hike up this mountain with Pau and Deep to watch the sunrise.

The hike was beautiful. The sunrise was mellow and nice and it was good to share time with friends on my last day there. As we're up there chatting and chilling, Koji came up. It was nice because those are the three people I would have chosen to spend my last day with anyway.

After a quick watercolor we headed down and went our seperate ways. One from Japan, one from Spain, one from India and one from the United States. (I have to say I'm from the States because if you say 'I'm from America' and you're talking to someone from South America, they sometimes get a little offended.) Hopefully I'll be able to see my new friends again in the future.

It's amazing how many cool people from all over the world I've met during my stay. It just gives me another reason for my next travels.

The Art Show

2008-01-28T22:41:00.000-08:00

For a few weeks now, my friend Darush has been asking me to have an art show with him at the ashram. Always the procrastinator I wasn't really in the mood, but just like all my other art shows, it was the motivation of someonelse that got the ball rolling. Everytime we talked, he'd ask when the show was going to be. After it was all said and done I'm glad I did it though. There were many people who really appreciated seeing the works and I sold a few pieces so that will help with the travelling.

We had the show in one of the meditation halls and it was as basic as basic can be. The watercolors were just held up with clothes line and clothes pins. A small table for my sketch book and nothing else. No chairs, no wine, no cheese. Just some art and Darush and I sitting on the floor. I enjoyed the show's simplicity, it really fit my style.

Darush is from Iran and his work consisted of beautiful calligraphy drawings of poems by Rumi. I've never been into poetry really, but that Rumi guy is pretty intense. So the show was a partnership between American and Iranian artists. Our governments don't get along, but people are people wherever you go. And when it comes down to the basics, most people are alright.

More on Ashram Life

2008-01-27T02:10:00.000-08:00

So things here are the same as they were the day I arrived. Not much changes in a place like this. The lotus flowers in the pond rise and fall, I skip meals and yoga to make sure they are painted. The sun makes it's daily march across the sky and the afternoon heat is oppressive. Nights aren't much better. Day in day out, the same routine. It's nice and makes life tranquil. Plus it's the longest I've stayed in one place since September.

A place like this is a nice place to visit, but I don't think it's a good place to stay. For the lifers here it seems to be a place to hide. A little refuge from the crazy messed up world in which we live. Hiding for a bit is fine. A little peace can help you reflect on yourself and what is good about you and what's lame about you, but if you come here and don't change and don't reflect and just be the same annoying person you were when you came in... it just defeats the whole puprose.

The place is run by a rather large man called Swami Maha-something or other. He has a rather pretentious air about him. Rumor has it, he drinks coffee in the morning. That sounds normal in your life, but here in the ashram caffine isn't allowed. It would seem best to set an example if you want people to listen to your advice. The idea is to live the way you believe. If you think one way and then do another there's no point to your thoughts or actions.

The next in charge is a doctor from South Africa called Swami - something or other. As you can tell, I really don't care about specifics. This guy is a cool cat. I like his style and he seems to believe in what he's doing. That goes a long way with me, but on the whole I don't know much about him since he's out doing things all the time.

After him are two interesting ladies. Wait, they aren't interesting at all. They are completely non-intersting. They are both about the same height, same frame, but one wears yellow, the other wears white. The white one is tough to get a read on, she doesn't interact with us peons. She just plays her bell and hides somewhere during most of the day.The one in yellow is just plain dismal. I've never seen such a permanently sour face on someone. She gives lectures at two o'clock that I stopped attending. She's one of these people that always has some negative comment. I don't jive well with those types of people.

The other day she stopped Ashlee and was asking her about massage. Ash was very friendly and told her that she was a massage therapist in the states and that led to this extremely long one sided conversation about the pain little Miss Dreary was having in her back.Since Ashlee is on the staff here, she has to attend a staff meeting every morning and wow, that sure sounds like fun. She fills me in on all the nonsense that goes on here. Like I said earlier, I assumed this place was a place to take stock of what is, but for some people it's just a place to power trip and I don't understand it. Egos abound here, but I thought that the whole reason to come here was to try and minimize the ego. I guess it all depends on who you are.

Advertising at the Beach

2008-01-19T04:26:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went the beach town of Kovalum. A nice place, a bit touristy, but nice nontheless. On the way to the town and in the town itself I noticed many similarities between the east and the west. One such example is advertising. It's everywhere over here and I found that odd at first. Huge billboards of decadent looking women wearing the latest in expensive jewelry stand tall above a man barely scraping buy selling bananas on the road. It's odd, but apparently you can make a living just selling bananas on the road. Sounds like the life to me though. Just hanging out with your fruit, chilling, watching the world go buy. There's no worries really since everyone needs food, and banannas are as good as the next fruit. Although, once your market learns that all they have to do is walk into the jungle a few feet and get their own banannas, then business is shot. I suppose that's like the oil companies hoping that people don't realize that there's other sources of free fuel out there. Wind, sun, lightning, etc.

The advertising over here is in your face and annoying and dirty and gross. It makes me think of the advertising in America as well. In the states the advertising is slick and sharp and makes you say, 'damn I need that.' But the essence is the same. When you strip away the fancy cover it's just redundant imagery playing on our base desires. That's why in America there are half naked women selling toothpaste.

Here's a test for you, don't watch TV for about a decade, then turn it on and tell me what you see.I guarantee that you'll be blown away with the amount of T&A you'll see. The language is even different. Today they can say words that I never would have dreamed possible in high school. (That's pretty much the last time I watched TV consistently)

I wonder what we'll be watching in twenty years from now? There will be a commerical showing a couple in the midst of some hot steamy action. Sweat dripping from their bodies which are in the most gymnastic of positions. Then after a minute and a half, the girl will look up and say, "Pepsi is delicious."

That's why TV is lame. The advertisers know what sells. The naked female body sells. Take the most gorgeous sunset,take any pretty mountain scene and most people will prefer to check out a nice rack.

The difference lies in the fact, that I have no interest seeing some chick on TV. I'll never see her, I'll never meet her and I'll never try her toothpaste. When I'm trying to watch some TV show about polar bears, I only get distracted by the commericials. One girl is too much too handle anyway. If you choose the right one the others seem dull and boring regardless of how much oil they coat her body in or what they're selling.

Ashram Life

2008-01-13T23:45:00.000-08:00

So I've found myself staying at this Ashram near Neyar Dam. It wasn't till I arrived that I realized there was an actual dam near by. Things are pretty mellow up here. I'm in the jungle and quite ironically I'm staying in a tent. All the rooms were full, but there are some places for tents and here I am. Fortunately, I'm used to it, so I'm happy. In fact, the loud moldy rooms are far from what I want and if I could of had a choice. I would have chose this.

The daily routine is simple. I wake at five am to the clanging of a bell. Some days the bell ringer is mellow, some days it seems like his pants are on fire. At 6am, it's time to meditate. I never really thought about meditating before, but it's good for me. My brain is full of ideas and paintings and projects and all sorts of stuff, so it's good to give it a rest. It's like taking a vacation from myself.

The more I do it, the more I realize that I've meditated for years. When I paint, I'm basically doing the same thing, but at the end of the hour, I have something nice to look at. Yoga is at 8am and it's a two hour session. By the end of this month I'll have done more stretching then I have in my entire life. I'm actually doing pretty good with it, I never realized what having a dedicated one on one teacher all summer long would do. Having Ashlee around really helped me out and I didn't realize it till I came here.

10am: Breakfast. Vegetables every meal. No meat, just veggies and rice. You all would be so amazed at my eating habits. I know I am. The food is good here, although other people complain about the lack of variety. Since I lived off of pizza for nearly 10 years of my life, I can deal with the same food, so long as it's good food.

The afternoon is free and I'm usually out painting something or other. The are is pretty so the painting is going well. My watercolors improve with each piece. At 3:30 it's yoga time again. Another two hour session. This time in the hot, humid air. The afternoon class is brutal. Six o'clock and it's dinner time. More veggies, nothing else. Well there's some rice sometimes. After dinner it's guitar playing time. Actually it's free time, but someone here brought a guitar and is usually too busy to use it, so she let me keep it in my tent. It's been a savior. At 8:00, it's time to meditate again. Such repetition is bound to produce some results, but I can't tell you just what yet.

I'm in bed around 10, and the next day I repeat the same schedule as before. So all in all, things are mellow and good. My dreams have been intense and a little wacky. The people I'm surrounded by are some quality folks. I'll write more and post pictures some other day.

Same Same, but Different

2008-01-05T00:00:00.000-08:00

I come to India to take a little vacation. A break from my hectic life as a vagabond. All this moving around and painting things and saying hello to friends and goodbye to friends was just too much. I needed to stay in one place and no do anything (apart from painting) for at least a month. Since September, I've been on the move so this is a nice change of place.

So of all the things that I could possibly be doing, what do I find myself doing? Excel spreadsheets. Can you belive that nonsense. I come here to chill out and instead I'm helping the people here with thier total backwards system of doing things. For hours today I'm helping this guy figure things out. It brings me back to my days of working with annoying clients in Virginia. All in all, it's quite humorous I guess. It's just my fate to be pulled into computers wherever I go. Fortunately it comes easy to me, since all programs are really the same whether you're making music, organizing schedules, making pictures, whatever - it's all the same functionality.

What is different between here and America is the thought process. The American corporate way of doing things is boring and annoying and leads to boring work lives, but it does get things done. Things are efficient and actually get done. In India, things are backwards a bit. They do things totally different cause they think different. Things aren't set up in a hiearchy. It's every man for himself. It sounds chaotic and it is, but it works. And it will work a lot longer then the American system will. America will go bust long before India will. I think it has something to do with the consolidation of power, but I'm not sure. I think when all the capital/power is in a few people's hands then those few people start making bad selfish decisions. It is that whole, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely thing. So don't always assume that people have your best interest in mind. Some do, most don't.

In India people aren't too concerned about their government, they make do with what they have and the government is just some abstraction far away in New Delhi. Speaking of New Delhi, I met a guy from there who works for Aetna insurance. He's the guy who decides if you get a claim or not. So if you break your leg and file your claim, Yogesh is the guy you'll talk to. The funny thing is that he's required to tell people he's working in Conneticut.

Bangalore, India

2007-12-27T22:29:00.000-08:00

Well I'm finally here in Bangalore, India. I don't have much to say since I'm all spaced out and feel a little funky. The plane rides themselves weren't so bad. It is an 8 hour flight from Atlanta to Gatwick. Once in the UK we had to switch planes. It was nice and convienent that the next plane we had to board was at an entirely different airport. After an hour bus ride we arrived at Heathrow which is basically a mall filled with stuff that's over priced. (When did airports turn from airports to shopping plazas?)

I think I was the luckiest person in the airport that day. While we were waiting for our next flight, we went and sat back on these benches and I had the best foot massage of my life. It was great, I had a pillow, one of those eye cover up things and Ash was working her magic. It really really was amazing and much needed. I know sometimes people wonder if dating a massage therapist is all it's cracked up to be. I suppose it all depends on which one you hang with. As for me, it's incredible.

After our short six hour layover we prepared ourselves for the final 10 hour flight to India. With my own television set and a couple meals, the flight went by pretty fast. Although the television set and the food had nothing to do with the airspeed. The fuel made the flight fast, the movies made it tolerable. We arrived at the airport at some dreadfully early hour, passed customs, changed money, got a cab and headed to our prebooked hotel.

Nothing beats arriving t your hotel in a foriegn country and having them tell you that they are all booked up. Fortunately with some talking they found some space and finally stopped moving.

With all this moving around, my body is basically clueless. I don't really know what day it is or what time it should be. I'm hungry, but don't really feel like eating, I'm tired but don't feel like sleeping. I'm not sure what I'll do today. Tomorrow we are taking a train down to Kerala to hang for a month. That'll be fantastic since I haven't been in one place for a month since summer.

I'll post some pictures once I take them. Until then, just use your imagination.

What's more lame?

2007-12-24T21:16:00.000-08:00

The fact that someone takes time from doing something cool or useful and spends it writing about something they just did, or the fact that other people spend time reading what the first person just did when they could have been doing something cool or useful to begin with.Regardless of the answer, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be part of this circle of nonsense. Yet here I am.

What eventually made me chose to join the ranks of such honorable men as bloggers, was the consistent interest in the stories on the website. People actually read the stories posted on there. So I was like, 'wow check that out, maybe I'll post more.'With my current situation of being out of the country for a few months, I'll have to let my family know I'm alive and doing fine. What better, more personal, intimate way, then with a website available to anyone with a comptuer and a bank account.

Now my family knows what's going on and there's clicks on the site. So read on stranger. If you see my Mom before she reads this, tell her I'm doing fine.

Bang Bang Bang

2007-12-22T21:00:00.000-08:00

It's not often that I have the opportunity to go hunting, so when the opportunity arose, I figured I'd take full advantage of it. When it Rome, do as the Romans. When in south Georgia, shoot things.

I wasn't sure what to expect since I'm sorta of a nature nerd who likes being outside and likes animals and all that. It's not my usual routine to go disrupting the peace with explosives, but it ended up being a great experience.

In the olden days, quail hunting might have been a little different, but today it's very Americanized. So Americanized that we actually had to go out and buy the birds, throw 'em out in the woods and then shoot them. Buy, spend, destroy. That could describe our day hunting, or it could describe the philosophy of most governments.

It ended being a great day, but anytime one is out in nature surrounded by good friends and family things will turn out ok. Unless of course there's an idiot in the group who shoots someone else in the face.

It was a little trickier then I first thought. My first time out, the safety was on. Next round, the birds were too close to the dogs. Other times, the birds were close to the people. Sometimes the dogs got to the birds first. Sometimes the people got to the birds first. It seemed like I was destined not to get one.

Some people were like, just shoot them on the ground before they fly up. That way you can say you got one. The problem with that is, I would rather say that I didn't get a bird, then to say I shot it on the ground before it even had a chance.

In the end, I nailed one with a brutal shot to the head. The bird fell to the ground admist a flutter of feathers. I picked it up and carried it for a bit. It was very warm, like it was still alive. Little drops of blood poured from it's eye sockets that were closed as if resting. I looked at it for a bit, and philosophized silently about life. Then I chucked it in the back of the cart and went to shoot some more.

After the day was done, the pleasure of cleaning the birds came next. I figured if I shot one, I should clean it too. At first, it was a little gross, but once I set my beer down things went smoothly. It's not good to combine the acts of ingesting food with the act of cutting off limbs and ripping off skin. The two just don't go together.

Painting

2007-10-05T15:04:00.001-07:00

It's cold, out. I'm painting inside.

Fall is Freezing

2007-10-05T15:04:00.000-07:00

Summer is over and fall is here. Fall up in the mountains tend to be a bit more winter-like then most other fall places. Wind storms and light snow flurries makes the days exciting. Of course all this good fun and excitement is only nice if you can stay warm. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't able to stay warm.

The problem started on my last backpacking trip when I hiked from Mammoth Lakes over to Yomsemite. The hike was beautiful, it was just Ashlee and I out for a nice four day jaunt. I tend to keep a pretty healthy pace when I hike, but Ashlee has no problem keeping up. One the third day of our hike, we decided to hike only few miles and have a nice relaxing day.

Poor Ashlee didn't realize that on this particular rest day that we would actually be working harder then if we were hiking. My forever working brain decided to create a huge spiral in this dry lake bed up around 11,000 feet. Hours and hours and hours were spent lifting heavy rocks, moving huge boulders and creating art. After a day and a half of this nonsense and we're done and we head down to Yosemite just in time for the end of the year International Dinner extravaganza.

"Excuse me Kevin.... what does this have to do with fall being cold?"

Well, during the exhaustive work on that spiral, I happened to remove my coat to get a little cooler. I placed it down and continued to work. When I got up the next morning and finished the project, I totally forgot about my coat. You see, it was warm during the day and the thought didn't even cross my mind. That's the disadvantage to living in the moment all the time - a serious lack of prethought and foresight.

So now I'm up in the aspen groves painting leaves and freezing my bum off without a coat. I figure it's time to return to the high country and retreive that which is rightfully mine. I'm fortunate enough to recruit a friend for this exhausting hike. The closest way to get to the spiral is to hike up a few thousand feet, over the Kuna Cresrt, down a thousand feet and over this plateau to the art site. It's probably a twenty plus mile hike, but with the elevation gain and loss it seemed twice as long.

We arrived at the site, retreived my coat which was just sitting right where I left, and headed back down to arrive at the car just before headlamp time. Which was quite fortunate since I didn't bring a headlamp along in the first place.