The Universe is Big
http://theuniverseisbig.com
scott twyster
i was born a while back. after that, i began to grow up. during this process, i learned to learn, which is not as easy at it sounds. up until very recently, i was. right now i am, and soon i will be.
my ME is part of many USs and WEs, not to mention a few OURs. i'm endlessly interested in your YOU, perhaps almost as much as you should be.
i am learning to be very good to my Self. i highly suggest trying it some time. it's very liberating.
my flickr page-- PHOTOS!!!
scott twyster @ myspace
email me
The Universe is Big
how eggshell intense the fantastic vibration beneath a calm surface
this is the stuff of magic, the infinite space between yesterday and
tomorrow, a rift into which anything and everything fits so perfectly,
so chaotically perfect, at times the puzzle melts seamless and in others
every other piece is missing, when we decide to get off our own laziness
to check between the cushions, but really we don't feel the need to get
up because we're tired from creating, from achieving, from escaping,
from compromising, from understanding, each feather both dusty and dewy
from the various clouds that rise and pass while soaring across that
infinite space of every moment.
does it make a difference, keeping it in, letting it out, trying force a
feeling that's both bliss and confusion? and will it ever end, those
midnight fingers that snap then point then gesticulate in some vague
direction, sometimes clear, sometimes not, towards a greater good, a
greener pasture split by two iron rails that keep the wheels from
spinning too out-of-control? the breath is the fuel and the body an
engine, a vessel cruising across an ocean that surges on and on and on
forever, whenever you turn around it's still there, whispering hints in
absolute, and absolutely not every one is meant for you.
how delicate the line between movement and stillness, how eggshell
intense the fantastic vibration beneath a calm surface.
truthfully, i'm loving it. what keeps me together is the ever-present
smile to be found at all points from peak to valley, start to finish and
back again. it seems that every step is a new chapter lately, at so many
points thinking 'oh yes, this is it, now it's really going to get good'
only to realize that the going has yet even to begin. unclear are the
reasona to move away from a need for constant redefinition, refocusing,
oscillating irises rising and setting in response to varying light, a
train rocketing and rifling through tunnels and closets, bedsheets,
timezones, and high-speed long distance lounge chairs.
greece was spring beautiful after austrian cold and the scatter of
turkish blue-gray, all flowers, olive trees along with the occasional
sunshowers atop castles and aside sweeping cloudy peaks. stockholm had a
spring chill offset by the warmth of new friends, windows open to air
out the dust of an old attic winter, the perfect chance to clear space
for stepping into grace of things to come. our last stop, oslo, our
glorious far-off point that was thought to never come, came and went as
smoothly as those far-off points always do, with excitement and depth,
and plans to return.
so many far-off points come and go, when one passes another rises, my
next one a tiny village in south germany, three times older than the
country of my origin. trading in two zeros, a city of ten million for a
town of ten thousand, give or take. give or take. give or take is a
great question to ask. what do i have to give? what is there to take?
where will my balance reside, yet another ever changing constant, where
will this midpoint between two extremes take root to spread it's wings?
i'm just a big fish perusing pond-front real estate around the world. i
got the stamps to prove it.
who? what? where? when? how? these are the true pillars of magic,
creating such infinite space between here and now. i can't help but
smile, so i will, as if there is nothing else to do, even if there is,
even though, thankfully, there really isn't, for this protagonist wears
not a cape but a broad grin instead, an ever-widening rift into which
everything and anything has an open invitation to fit, vibration
fantastic and fancy-free while rocketing and rifling through the
cushions in search of new inspiration for creation, to achieve a
successful direction for the escape from one extreme towards another, to
find that perfect midpoint for the time being, time being a commodity
that seems to be in extraordinary abundance for a change.
tomorrow, a rift into which anything and everything fits so perfectly,
so chaotically perfect, at times the puzzle melts seamless and in others
every other piece is missing, when we decide to get off our own laziness
to check between the cushions, but really we don't feel the need to get
up because we're tired from creating, from achieving, from escaping,
from compromising, from understanding, each feather both dusty and dewy
from the various clouds that rise and pass while soaring across that
infinite space of every moment.
does it make a difference, keeping it in, letting it out, trying force a
feeling that's both bliss and confusion? and will it ever end, those
midnight fingers that snap then point then gesticulate in some vague
direction, sometimes clear, sometimes not, towards a greater good, a
greener pasture split by two iron rails that keep the wheels from
spinning too out-of-control? the breath is the fuel and the body an
engine, a vessel cruising across an ocean that surges on and on and on
forever, whenever you turn around it's still there, whispering hints in
absolute, and absolutely not every one is meant for you.
how delicate the line between movement and stillness, how eggshell
intense the fantastic vibration beneath a calm surface.
truthfully, i'm loving it. what keeps me together is the ever-present
smile to be found at all points from peak to valley, start to finish and
back again. it seems that every step is a new chapter lately, at so many
points thinking 'oh yes, this is it, now it's really going to get good'
only to realize that the going has yet even to begin. unclear are the
reasona to move away from a need for constant redefinition, refocusing,
oscillating irises rising and setting in response to varying light, a
train rocketing and rifling through tunnels and closets, bedsheets,
timezones, and high-speed long distance lounge chairs.
greece was spring beautiful after austrian cold and the scatter of
turkish blue-gray, all flowers, olive trees along with the occasional
sunshowers atop castles and aside sweeping cloudy peaks. stockholm had a
spring chill offset by the warmth of new friends, windows open to air
out the dust of an old attic winter, the perfect chance to clear space
for stepping into grace of things to come. our last stop, oslo, our
glorious far-off point that was thought to never come, came and went as
smoothly as those far-off points always do, with excitement and depth,
and plans to return.
so many far-off points come and go, when one passes another rises, my
next one a tiny village in south germany, three times older than the
country of my origin. trading in two zeros, a city of ten million for a
town of ten thousand, give or take. give or take. give or take is a
great question to ask. what do i have to give? what is there to take?
where will my balance reside, yet another ever changing constant, where
will this midpoint between two extremes take root to spread it's wings?
i'm just a big fish perusing pond-front real estate around the world. i
got the stamps to prove it.
who? what? where? when? how? these are the true pillars of magic,
creating such infinite space between here and now. i can't help but
smile, so i will, as if there is nothing else to do, even if there is,
even though, thankfully, there really isn't, for this protagonist wears
not a cape but a broad grin instead, an ever-widening rift into which
everything and anything has an open invitation to fit, vibration
fantastic and fancy-free while rocketing and rifling through the
cushions in search of new inspiration for creation, to achieve a
successful direction for the escape from one extreme towards another, to
find that perfect midpoint for the time being, time being a commodity
that seems to be in extraordinary abundance for a change.
one man's opinion: the future of the children
man, i've got all these great ideas, you know? i just need to clear the
time to do them. having all of these great ideas is a huge
responsibility, see, like the world won't be able to really spin the
way its supposed to unless i take care of it. oh, they are all totally
important, monumental things that are gonna really change things... for
the better. i'm serious, here. totally serious.
like for instance, i really fear for the future of the children today. i really, really do. sure, there is that whole global warming thing going on. that's totally a big deal. and let's be honest here, the state of global politics can be really confusing to the normal guy. i read korea fired a missile at the world a few weeks back, but the world was all like, 'pfffft. whatever. we've got a ton of those. nice try, korea. call us when you're ready to talk and maybe we'll listen. lates.' in reality, though, the world probably had trouble sleeping that night. being a tough guy in the daylight is one thing, but when it gets dark out, it gets a lot harder. considering that it's always nighttime somewhere, the world has a lot of answering to do behind closed eyes.
but the future of the children has more to worry about than potentially bad weather and long-range rockets in the hands of the overinflated self-righteous. i'm talking about a real issue, about health. i'm not talking about the plight of the farmer and the circus argument about the true value of the word 'organic'. maybe i should, because we're talking about the future of children here, which is a very important future to take into consideration. i was once a child, really, and i look around sometimes and wonder if anyone took into consideration my future. other times, though, i look around and want to give everyone a high five 'cause stuff ain't all that bad right now.
well, i guess i should say that stuff ain't all that bad for me, that is. other people, too. i see it when i walk around, talking to the world and hearing what it has to say. i really listen when it talks back, at least, i really try. i'll walk around a mall or a busy street and just let my ears stay open and my mouth stay shut. that's when the real listening happens. the world speaks up when you let it. you should also learn to keep the eyes open for more than just crossing signals and pretty girls and shiny toys. if you're like me, you'll learn pretty fast that it helps to sit down when you really want to listen. the world appreciates that.
so, i've seen a lot of places lately, right? and i let the worldly whisper echo gently into my mind, stoking the fire with these great ideas. i think it must burn in my eyes, because everything looks different afterwards. and it burns in my heart because it keeps me up sometimes late at night, not like it would were i a tough guy. it's harder to be soft than hard, at first. it gets better with time. now it's time to really change things, to take into consideration the wellness of the future of the children of the world. this fire tells me that, not with whispers but with waving arms that lick the night like the flames they are.
this is an open invitation to join in on this great idea, to help change the world, one child's future at a time.
i'm really worried that those shoes that all the kids are wearing, the ones with the wheels in the heel, are going to seriously screw up their bodies after prolonged use. i really do. i fear for the hips, knees, ankles, and gaits of children who wear heeleys. i watch them scoot around on one of their heels-- they never evenly scoot, from what i can tell-- trailing behind them a vapor trail of physical imbalance for years to come that could result in the need for a hip replacement, or, in the very least, lot's of physical therapy.
look at the facts. the shoes are these huge, frankenstein-heavy shoes with wheels on the heel. it seems that before kids even have a fair chance to learn to walk properly, they get a pair strapped on and are set free to scoot with relative impunity. all of their weight either goes directly through a locked knee into the heel or spent wobbling around on the tips of their toes. for a lot of the children, i'd wager that this is their only form of physical exercise. this weighs heavy on my heart, the clouds that are rapidly forming on the clear horizon of what's to come. the whole flashing-red-lights-on-the-shoe phenomena was bad enough, abuse of which only resulted in a dead battery. are heeley's really worth a hip-replacement surgery at a young age? furthermore, i'm curious as to why nobody has demanded a full report of heeley's-related injuries over the past few years.
my great idea is twofold: either to a) convince someone to design a fully ergonomic version of heeley's that offer full arch support, an airbag, detailed user manual, and automatic shut-off timer, or b) learn to let children, and those who watch out for them, make their own decisions pertaining to their future and let it go. i've got so many more great ideas that could really use the space to grow, so the world better watch out one way or another. if they don't come to life, things might just spin way outta control.
like for instance, i really fear for the future of the children today. i really, really do. sure, there is that whole global warming thing going on. that's totally a big deal. and let's be honest here, the state of global politics can be really confusing to the normal guy. i read korea fired a missile at the world a few weeks back, but the world was all like, 'pfffft. whatever. we've got a ton of those. nice try, korea. call us when you're ready to talk and maybe we'll listen. lates.' in reality, though, the world probably had trouble sleeping that night. being a tough guy in the daylight is one thing, but when it gets dark out, it gets a lot harder. considering that it's always nighttime somewhere, the world has a lot of answering to do behind closed eyes.
but the future of the children has more to worry about than potentially bad weather and long-range rockets in the hands of the overinflated self-righteous. i'm talking about a real issue, about health. i'm not talking about the plight of the farmer and the circus argument about the true value of the word 'organic'. maybe i should, because we're talking about the future of children here, which is a very important future to take into consideration. i was once a child, really, and i look around sometimes and wonder if anyone took into consideration my future. other times, though, i look around and want to give everyone a high five 'cause stuff ain't all that bad right now.
well, i guess i should say that stuff ain't all that bad for me, that is. other people, too. i see it when i walk around, talking to the world and hearing what it has to say. i really listen when it talks back, at least, i really try. i'll walk around a mall or a busy street and just let my ears stay open and my mouth stay shut. that's when the real listening happens. the world speaks up when you let it. you should also learn to keep the eyes open for more than just crossing signals and pretty girls and shiny toys. if you're like me, you'll learn pretty fast that it helps to sit down when you really want to listen. the world appreciates that.
so, i've seen a lot of places lately, right? and i let the worldly whisper echo gently into my mind, stoking the fire with these great ideas. i think it must burn in my eyes, because everything looks different afterwards. and it burns in my heart because it keeps me up sometimes late at night, not like it would were i a tough guy. it's harder to be soft than hard, at first. it gets better with time. now it's time to really change things, to take into consideration the wellness of the future of the children of the world. this fire tells me that, not with whispers but with waving arms that lick the night like the flames they are.
this is an open invitation to join in on this great idea, to help change the world, one child's future at a time.
i'm really worried that those shoes that all the kids are wearing, the ones with the wheels in the heel, are going to seriously screw up their bodies after prolonged use. i really do. i fear for the hips, knees, ankles, and gaits of children who wear heeleys. i watch them scoot around on one of their heels-- they never evenly scoot, from what i can tell-- trailing behind them a vapor trail of physical imbalance for years to come that could result in the need for a hip replacement, or, in the very least, lot's of physical therapy.
look at the facts. the shoes are these huge, frankenstein-heavy shoes with wheels on the heel. it seems that before kids even have a fair chance to learn to walk properly, they get a pair strapped on and are set free to scoot with relative impunity. all of their weight either goes directly through a locked knee into the heel or spent wobbling around on the tips of their toes. for a lot of the children, i'd wager that this is their only form of physical exercise. this weighs heavy on my heart, the clouds that are rapidly forming on the clear horizon of what's to come. the whole flashing-red-lights-on-the-shoe phenomena was bad enough, abuse of which only resulted in a dead battery. are heeley's really worth a hip-replacement surgery at a young age? furthermore, i'm curious as to why nobody has demanded a full report of heeley's-related injuries over the past few years.
my great idea is twofold: either to a) convince someone to design a fully ergonomic version of heeley's that offer full arch support, an airbag, detailed user manual, and automatic shut-off timer, or b) learn to let children, and those who watch out for them, make their own decisions pertaining to their future and let it go. i've got so many more great ideas that could really use the space to grow, so the world better watch out one way or another. if they don't come to life, things might just spin way outta control.
for your consideration: www.phoenixflowyoga.com
admittedly, i've been busy. check out why-- and now where-- at our new website:
www.phoenixflowyoga.com
you can track where i'm going or where i'll be on the upcoming events page, see pictures and video on the-- yup-- pictures and video page, and.... well, the long/short is that you'll get a good idea about what i've been up to for the last year or so.
it's only a beginning, and i think a pretty good one at that.
.looking forward.
www.phoenixflowyoga.com
you can track where i'm going or where i'll be on the upcoming events page, see pictures and video on the-- yup-- pictures and video page, and.... well, the long/short is that you'll get a good idea about what i've been up to for the last year or so.
it's only a beginning, and i think a pretty good one at that.
.looking forward.
an actual sanctioned ferry
"it all depends on the fishing situation, really. i suggest that if you
happen to see anyone who looks like a captain, ask them if they can help
you out."
after an overnight bus from istanbul to ayvalik, a quiet seaside town on
the southwestern coast of turkey, this wasn't really what i was hoping
to hear. considering that the bus ride was pretty comfortable-- much
more so than any bus i've ridden on before, actually-- i received the
news rather impartially, if not somewhat easily. seyda, a friend back in
istanbul was being more than accommodating during her commute between
yoga mat and lectern.by calling the ferry office and talking turkish
with the congenial and extremely effeminate young gentleman behind the desk.
anyone who looks like a captian, i see. you mean like rubber boots, a
white beard, and an eyepatch?
"yeah. they might have a boat or something."
naturally.
the workshops in istanbul were a brief stop between austria and our
retreat in lesvos. geographically, it seemed to work out perfectly. a
little research yielded that one can easily and cheaply take a bus to a
ferry instead of flying from istanbul to greece. i mean, why not? i love
me a little adventure now and again, and adventure is what i got. the
fishing situation didn't really work out in our favor, but the upswing
was a quiet night in a lovely pension overlooking a gentle seaside
fishing village. haute coture this season was, oddly enough, rubber
boots and eye-patches. try as we might, however, nobody could do more
than direct us to the company with the internet discrepancy. what. to. do.
i entered greece the next day on an actual sanctioned ferry, just in
time to hop in a cab with two yogis from vienna who came here to take
part on the retreat we're leading, which is now in full swing. we go
until wednesday and then catch a scheduled, official ferry to athens to
lead a smaller weekend workshop the following weekend. that's how we
roll, of course.
it's beautiful here, and it feels good to have a full schedule for the
week. i'm ready to roll that through to the rest of my life, and am
looking forward to settling down in germany for a while to figure out
the next moves. there is this silent nudge-nudge to go back to nyc for a
few days at the end of april, but i'm getting really tired of traveling.
it would mean changing a flight from oslo to frankfurt and staying at
the airport to hop a plane to amsterdam, wait 12 hours, and then jump to
the states. that would be one long day. plus, i'm flying my friend jake
out to deutchland to help me film a yoga dvd that i plan to market to
guys who don't do yoga. it's called averagejoga: everyday yoga for the
everyday man.
yup. i'm going digital.
it is a little odd to come back to a place where i spent two weeks
training my sit bones off for acro-training. the island is a lot
different-- there has been a lot of rain in the past few months, which
means there is an abundance of green and flowers everywhere. the skies
are extremely clear, the days warm, and the nights windy and cool. it's
a nice melange of seasonal weather. i'm not too sure what the weather
will be like in the scandinavian countries, but i don't think it's gonna
be as warm as it is here.
let's keep our finger crossed, shall we?
happen to see anyone who looks like a captain, ask them if they can help
you out."
after an overnight bus from istanbul to ayvalik, a quiet seaside town on
the southwestern coast of turkey, this wasn't really what i was hoping
to hear. considering that the bus ride was pretty comfortable-- much
more so than any bus i've ridden on before, actually-- i received the
news rather impartially, if not somewhat easily. seyda, a friend back in
istanbul was being more than accommodating during her commute between
yoga mat and lectern.by calling the ferry office and talking turkish
with the congenial and extremely effeminate young gentleman behind the desk.
anyone who looks like a captian, i see. you mean like rubber boots, a
white beard, and an eyepatch?
"yeah. they might have a boat or something."
naturally.
the workshops in istanbul were a brief stop between austria and our
retreat in lesvos. geographically, it seemed to work out perfectly. a
little research yielded that one can easily and cheaply take a bus to a
ferry instead of flying from istanbul to greece. i mean, why not? i love
me a little adventure now and again, and adventure is what i got. the
fishing situation didn't really work out in our favor, but the upswing
was a quiet night in a lovely pension overlooking a gentle seaside
fishing village. haute coture this season was, oddly enough, rubber
boots and eye-patches. try as we might, however, nobody could do more
than direct us to the company with the internet discrepancy. what. to. do.
i entered greece the next day on an actual sanctioned ferry, just in
time to hop in a cab with two yogis from vienna who came here to take
part on the retreat we're leading, which is now in full swing. we go
until wednesday and then catch a scheduled, official ferry to athens to
lead a smaller weekend workshop the following weekend. that's how we
roll, of course.
it's beautiful here, and it feels good to have a full schedule for the
week. i'm ready to roll that through to the rest of my life, and am
looking forward to settling down in germany for a while to figure out
the next moves. there is this silent nudge-nudge to go back to nyc for a
few days at the end of april, but i'm getting really tired of traveling.
it would mean changing a flight from oslo to frankfurt and staying at
the airport to hop a plane to amsterdam, wait 12 hours, and then jump to
the states. that would be one long day. plus, i'm flying my friend jake
out to deutchland to help me film a yoga dvd that i plan to market to
guys who don't do yoga. it's called averagejoga: everyday yoga for the
everyday man.
yup. i'm going digital.
it is a little odd to come back to a place where i spent two weeks
training my sit bones off for acro-training. the island is a lot
different-- there has been a lot of rain in the past few months, which
means there is an abundance of green and flowers everywhere. the skies
are extremely clear, the days warm, and the nights windy and cool. it's
a nice melange of seasonal weather. i'm not too sure what the weather
will be like in the scandinavian countries, but i don't think it's gonna
be as warm as it is here.
let's keep our finger crossed, shall we?
tipping the scales
everything here is fine. fine, fine, fine.
traveling from the middle east to austria? fine. settling into our friend's place? just fine. our workshops here in vienna all weekend? fine as wine. tomorrow, i hop on a plane to istanbul, and i imagine that should be just fine and, dare i say, dandy.
something brews below the surface. i believe that the word 'fine'-- just like the word 'interesting' or 'whatever'-- is a cop-out, filler word, the verbal equivalent of shrugging one's shoulders, looking away, and going 'meh!'
i'm really starting to grow tired of traveling, of going from country to country, of sleeping in different beds, of having to adjust to different time zones, local foods,cultural customs... which is everything my current path consists of. i'm really hungering for some regularity right about now. with a little more than one month to go before getting back to germany-- which should serve as home base for some time-- i'm entering the home stretch of this nomadic lifestyle. the itinerant terrain doesn't seem to be so conducive to a lazy stroll towards the finish line, however. nope, the next month is looks to stack on the most mileage i've done in a long time.
vienna to istanbul via plane. istanbul to lesvos via bus and ferry. lesvos to athens via overnight ferry. athens to monemvasia back to athens via car. athens to stockholm via plane. stockholm to oslo via train. oslo to frankfurt via plane. frankfurt to herxheim via car.
all in one month.
i'm ok with the traveling, really. i'm cool with the cultural change-- in fact, i really enjoy that the most. i can handle the random bedding situation. what's really bothering me is the backpack i'm carrying and the contents it contains. i am tired of wearing the same damn clothing all of the time. i've crossed so many different climate changes in so many different countries that packing to accommodate each possible forecast is nigh impossible while adhering to the airline maximum 20kg luggage limit. i end up wearing the same pair of jeans and rotate between three different shirts while layering every thicker piece of outwear i own in the cooler climates. it would have been easier to start colder and travel towards warmth, but fate has flipped the script.
the strange strain of homesickness i'm experiencing right now is centered around a full closet left behind at my parent's house in long island. walking through the wind-swept cobblestone streets of far-off places feeling more homeless than home-free, i can't help but question the presence of this newfound anchored attachment. would any of the items there would be any different than the ones i have now? only a few things fit the body or the personality piloting it.
it's an odd feeling. i'm 78.5 kilos, or about 160 lbs. when i left nyc in august, i was 90 kilos. plus, there was little need to wear much more than some colorful shorts and a pair of sandals while living in india. julia used to joke about how funny i would look wearing a shirt. now she just wants me to eat more (don't worry, mom. i eat plenty. i'm healthy and strong.).
concern for my appearance was one thing i've never really worried much about, as i've always felt very comfortable in my surroundings and with myself. however, as my options for comfortable clothing are extremely limited-- as is my capacity for carrying it with me-- and my surroundings constantly changing, i am at somewhat of a loss to do much more than look forward to settling down in one place and find a routine to rectify.
in the meantime, going shopping only serves to frustrate me more. i can't seem to find anything i like, and when i do, it either isn't my size or isn't made for my gender. case and point: bench apparel. bench is an amazing clothing brand based in the uk who offers some really well-made fashionably technical gear. however, whereas the womens line has an assortment of cool looking gear-- replete with thumb holes (heaven-sent), parallel front double-zips for ventilation, and usefully fashionable collars-- any item in the mens line that i've found so far looks like american apparel in the year 2145. additionally, all of the cool stuff for women is almost half the price as the less-spectacular mens line. considering that i don't have that much euro to throw around, i just walk on by.
i didn't care that i don't have health insurance after getting in a serious motorcycle accident in vietnam. it hasn't bothered me that i've put off my college loans until further notice. i haven't thought twice about purchasing any of the plane tickets or various items necessary to get from from yoga studio a to yoga studio b. my life lately has found a nice balance between not taking money out of the bank while not putting any in. i'm thinking it's time to stop padding my mattress with bank notes and seriously start tipping the scales in a positive direction.for the first time since i left nyc back in 2007, i'm feeling the crunch of not having the full-time job. why? because i can't find nor buy the clothing i want.
how funny is that? i can't help but feel a little bit better and a little more thankful for the life i have if my biggest issue is not having enough money to buy nicer clothes. fine, whatever. at the end of the day, it's all good.
traveling from the middle east to austria? fine. settling into our friend's place? just fine. our workshops here in vienna all weekend? fine as wine. tomorrow, i hop on a plane to istanbul, and i imagine that should be just fine and, dare i say, dandy.
something brews below the surface. i believe that the word 'fine'-- just like the word 'interesting' or 'whatever'-- is a cop-out, filler word, the verbal equivalent of shrugging one's shoulders, looking away, and going 'meh!'
i'm really starting to grow tired of traveling, of going from country to country, of sleeping in different beds, of having to adjust to different time zones, local foods,cultural customs... which is everything my current path consists of. i'm really hungering for some regularity right about now. with a little more than one month to go before getting back to germany-- which should serve as home base for some time-- i'm entering the home stretch of this nomadic lifestyle. the itinerant terrain doesn't seem to be so conducive to a lazy stroll towards the finish line, however. nope, the next month is looks to stack on the most mileage i've done in a long time.
vienna to istanbul via plane. istanbul to lesvos via bus and ferry. lesvos to athens via overnight ferry. athens to monemvasia back to athens via car. athens to stockholm via plane. stockholm to oslo via train. oslo to frankfurt via plane. frankfurt to herxheim via car.
all in one month.
i'm ok with the traveling, really. i'm cool with the cultural change-- in fact, i really enjoy that the most. i can handle the random bedding situation. what's really bothering me is the backpack i'm carrying and the contents it contains. i am tired of wearing the same damn clothing all of the time. i've crossed so many different climate changes in so many different countries that packing to accommodate each possible forecast is nigh impossible while adhering to the airline maximum 20kg luggage limit. i end up wearing the same pair of jeans and rotate between three different shirts while layering every thicker piece of outwear i own in the cooler climates. it would have been easier to start colder and travel towards warmth, but fate has flipped the script.
the strange strain of homesickness i'm experiencing right now is centered around a full closet left behind at my parent's house in long island. walking through the wind-swept cobblestone streets of far-off places feeling more homeless than home-free, i can't help but question the presence of this newfound anchored attachment. would any of the items there would be any different than the ones i have now? only a few things fit the body or the personality piloting it.
it's an odd feeling. i'm 78.5 kilos, or about 160 lbs. when i left nyc in august, i was 90 kilos. plus, there was little need to wear much more than some colorful shorts and a pair of sandals while living in india. julia used to joke about how funny i would look wearing a shirt. now she just wants me to eat more (don't worry, mom. i eat plenty. i'm healthy and strong.).
concern for my appearance was one thing i've never really worried much about, as i've always felt very comfortable in my surroundings and with myself. however, as my options for comfortable clothing are extremely limited-- as is my capacity for carrying it with me-- and my surroundings constantly changing, i am at somewhat of a loss to do much more than look forward to settling down in one place and find a routine to rectify.
in the meantime, going shopping only serves to frustrate me more. i can't seem to find anything i like, and when i do, it either isn't my size or isn't made for my gender. case and point: bench apparel. bench is an amazing clothing brand based in the uk who offers some really well-made fashionably technical gear. however, whereas the womens line has an assortment of cool looking gear-- replete with thumb holes (heaven-sent), parallel front double-zips for ventilation, and usefully fashionable collars-- any item in the mens line that i've found so far looks like american apparel in the year 2145. additionally, all of the cool stuff for women is almost half the price as the less-spectacular mens line. considering that i don't have that much euro to throw around, i just walk on by.
i didn't care that i don't have health insurance after getting in a serious motorcycle accident in vietnam. it hasn't bothered me that i've put off my college loans until further notice. i haven't thought twice about purchasing any of the plane tickets or various items necessary to get from from yoga studio a to yoga studio b. my life lately has found a nice balance between not taking money out of the bank while not putting any in. i'm thinking it's time to stop padding my mattress with bank notes and seriously start tipping the scales in a positive direction.for the first time since i left nyc back in 2007, i'm feeling the crunch of not having the full-time job. why? because i can't find nor buy the clothing i want.
how funny is that? i can't help but feel a little bit better and a little more thankful for the life i have if my biggest issue is not having enough money to buy nicer clothes. fine, whatever. at the end of the day, it's all good.
there were even samosas!
every exhale is a celebration, and every inhale a preparation to
celebrate. be it solemn, inspiring, enthusiastic, or observant, this
celebratory breath honors the moment. out here in the desert, i often
find myself breathing quite deeply. there is plenty to honor, even if
only to honor an effort to remain open to new experience.
today is my last day in abu-dhabi after two remarkable weeks. i arrived here balancing delicately between having no expectations and hugely sharp ones. this reflected itself on my last day in india as i choose what items to pack and what to send home. i'll be spending 20 days in the middle east. the middle east is in the desert. the desert is hot and dry. the emirates are a muslim country. i'm going to need proper clothing-- long sleeves and respectfully casual attire. i've been living in india. i don't really have many long sleeves or much respectfully casual attire. all i have are bright colors, cowboy shirts, and yoga clothing. from what i've gathered, everyone there is wearing long, flowing robes and headwraps. i don't even think i can hold hands with or-- gasp!!-- kiss julia in public. great. i guess we'll have to just wing it.
as it turns out, abu-dhabi is much more than the fashion and cultural equivalent of a 1950's high school dance for wizards. i've gotten by rocking my colorblind cowboy chic, and managed to drop into a very busy work schedule. we only had two days of workshops scheduled when we arrived, and we punch out from working overtime after a 40 hour work week. india creates an open space for one to easily reinvent themselves, although invention is just a brief spark in the wind. application stokes the fire of evolution, and as darwin would have it, the middle east has been a supportive environment as my bodywork experience evolves.
the days have been full of private yoga, inversion therapy, and four-hands abhiyanga (oil massage) sessions with julia for the local yogis. we've run through almost a litre of sesame oil as we soothe other bodies muscles while testing out own. i've learned way more than i've taught-- from my partner, from the people in our classes, from the culture-- a characteristic of life which i happily wish to continue. my body, however, is tired from a constant expenditure of energy combined with the struggles of reacclimation from india to a more western country. different food, different weather, and a lot more air conditioning and malls. wake up. cold. walk outside. hot. go to supermarket. cold. walk to mall. hot. buy new headwrap. totally cool. walk to beach. hot. cab home. cold. do yoga. hot.
we've been good about seeing as much as we can while working as much as we can. two days ago, we went to the desert for off-road excitement across the dunes, camel rides, and shisha under the stars. it was pretty extreme, but then again, everything in this place is pretty extreme. even the school system is pretty extreme, in that you will find 23 kids from 23 different countries in one class. we jumped at the opportunity to sit in on while our friend taught her 1st grade class at the canadian international school.
that was an interesting day, to say the last. out transition from abu-dhabi to dubai started at 6am. if there is one thing constant between every here and there i've seen during my to and fro, school teachers wake up early everywhere. the middle east is no exception. after spending all morning with an assortment of curious and excited children, we ducked out of the classroom into a quiet office to receive a phonecall from siobhan leyden, a popular radio talk show host on the ARN. somebody told somebody else something about our whatever, and we got an email from ms. leyden requesting an interview to hype our upcoming workshops at zen yoga in dubai.
naturally, we accepted... on the condition, of course, that it would not interfere with our prior arrangement to perform in front of the whole student body of the canadian international school. now, we've had some fun audiences for our performances, but nothing can quite compare to the echoing screams of 250 enthusiastic children in a cavernous gymnasium. i'm pretty sure that is the best environment to fully enjoy the true sound of oooooh and aaaaaaah. business as usual, i suppose. toss julia around on my feet, sweat a lot, play with children. all in a days work, and it was only 1:34pm.
after school ended, laila drove with us to dubai, a city which is a strange hybrid of gotham city and the movie brazil. buildings seem to go up and down with realative impunity and without any regard for the laws of nature right in front of your eyes. we knew where we had to go, and still we got lost. baffling. we've been comfortably received and nested in a nicely-appointed master bedroom in a suite on the 17tth floor of a residential apartment complex that looks exactly like 15 others in close proximity. hidden in plain sight amidst an urban suburban sprawl.
the evening was to wind down at a cafe and artists space called the jam jar. we were invited to the birthday celebration of a local filmmaker who wished to enter his 30th year among friends and yogis. i immediately felt at home in a large, spacious renovated warehouse filled with modern art and creative supplies available for all to use. we moved, we flew, we breathed, and we meditated. there were even samosas! it was a quite enjoyable entrance to yet another dynamic facet of the middle eastern crown jewel.
today is my last day in abu-dhabi after two remarkable weeks. i arrived here balancing delicately between having no expectations and hugely sharp ones. this reflected itself on my last day in india as i choose what items to pack and what to send home. i'll be spending 20 days in the middle east. the middle east is in the desert. the desert is hot and dry. the emirates are a muslim country. i'm going to need proper clothing-- long sleeves and respectfully casual attire. i've been living in india. i don't really have many long sleeves or much respectfully casual attire. all i have are bright colors, cowboy shirts, and yoga clothing. from what i've gathered, everyone there is wearing long, flowing robes and headwraps. i don't even think i can hold hands with or-- gasp!!-- kiss julia in public. great. i guess we'll have to just wing it.
as it turns out, abu-dhabi is much more than the fashion and cultural equivalent of a 1950's high school dance for wizards. i've gotten by rocking my colorblind cowboy chic, and managed to drop into a very busy work schedule. we only had two days of workshops scheduled when we arrived, and we punch out from working overtime after a 40 hour work week. india creates an open space for one to easily reinvent themselves, although invention is just a brief spark in the wind. application stokes the fire of evolution, and as darwin would have it, the middle east has been a supportive environment as my bodywork experience evolves.
the days have been full of private yoga, inversion therapy, and four-hands abhiyanga (oil massage) sessions with julia for the local yogis. we've run through almost a litre of sesame oil as we soothe other bodies muscles while testing out own. i've learned way more than i've taught-- from my partner, from the people in our classes, from the culture-- a characteristic of life which i happily wish to continue. my body, however, is tired from a constant expenditure of energy combined with the struggles of reacclimation from india to a more western country. different food, different weather, and a lot more air conditioning and malls. wake up. cold. walk outside. hot. go to supermarket. cold. walk to mall. hot. buy new headwrap. totally cool. walk to beach. hot. cab home. cold. do yoga. hot.
we've been good about seeing as much as we can while working as much as we can. two days ago, we went to the desert for off-road excitement across the dunes, camel rides, and shisha under the stars. it was pretty extreme, but then again, everything in this place is pretty extreme. even the school system is pretty extreme, in that you will find 23 kids from 23 different countries in one class. we jumped at the opportunity to sit in on while our friend taught her 1st grade class at the canadian international school.
that was an interesting day, to say the last. out transition from abu-dhabi to dubai started at 6am. if there is one thing constant between every here and there i've seen during my to and fro, school teachers wake up early everywhere. the middle east is no exception. after spending all morning with an assortment of curious and excited children, we ducked out of the classroom into a quiet office to receive a phonecall from siobhan leyden, a popular radio talk show host on the ARN. somebody told somebody else something about our whatever, and we got an email from ms. leyden requesting an interview to hype our upcoming workshops at zen yoga in dubai.
naturally, we accepted... on the condition, of course, that it would not interfere with our prior arrangement to perform in front of the whole student body of the canadian international school. now, we've had some fun audiences for our performances, but nothing can quite compare to the echoing screams of 250 enthusiastic children in a cavernous gymnasium. i'm pretty sure that is the best environment to fully enjoy the true sound of oooooh and aaaaaaah. business as usual, i suppose. toss julia around on my feet, sweat a lot, play with children. all in a days work, and it was only 1:34pm.
after school ended, laila drove with us to dubai, a city which is a strange hybrid of gotham city and the movie brazil. buildings seem to go up and down with realative impunity and without any regard for the laws of nature right in front of your eyes. we knew where we had to go, and still we got lost. baffling. we've been comfortably received and nested in a nicely-appointed master bedroom in a suite on the 17tth floor of a residential apartment complex that looks exactly like 15 others in close proximity. hidden in plain sight amidst an urban suburban sprawl.
the evening was to wind down at a cafe and artists space called the jam jar. we were invited to the birthday celebration of a local filmmaker who wished to enter his 30th year among friends and yogis. i immediately felt at home in a large, spacious renovated warehouse filled with modern art and creative supplies available for all to use. we moved, we flew, we breathed, and we meditated. there were even samosas! it was a quite enjoyable entrance to yet another dynamic facet of the middle eastern crown jewel.
metube
it is because of this man that i've decided to build a tandoor oven when i settle in germany:
indian people love to stare, they love to crowd, and they love westerners doing acrobatics. we made 7 rupee that day!
q: what sounds like a nightmare and shines like a drawer of knives?
a: an indian marching band.
this is what it is like when you try to find a seat in general class on a midnight train from haridwar to varanasi. note the people hanging out of the doors. note them.
indian people love to stare, they love to crowd, and they love westerners doing acrobatics. we made 7 rupee that day!
q: what sounds like a nightmare and shines like a drawer of knives?
a: an indian marching band.
this is what it is like when you try to find a seat in general class on a midnight train from haridwar to varanasi. note the people hanging out of the doors. note them.
what a crazy omlette
this city is unreal.
'36 years ago, there was nothing. just sand. just desert.'
what was it like when you got here?
'i lived in small villa with my husband. we drink chai. i take care of baby and learn arabic.'
that sounds intense.
'it was boring. i decide to start business instead.'
what is it like seeing how the city has grown in such a short time?
'the sheiks here, they have money and they are not afraid to spend it.'
i've been spending a lot of time with a croation hairdresser named ivana during my time in abu-dhabi, whom julia and i met during the workshops. she's taken us for coffee at the emirates palace, helped to arrange horse riding lessons at the equestrian club, set up a desert safari, and took us out salsa dancing at club zenith. the emirates palace is a seven-star luxury hotel (with modest rooms beginning at $3000aed/$1000us a night), the coffee was dusted with gold flakes, the horses are the finest arabian horses available, and the salsa lessons were... well, just regular ol' salsa lessons.
it's hard to paint a realistic picture of this place. the paints seem to all be mislabeled, the brushes either too fine or too soft, and the canvas has been stretched very tight across the frame.
after a full morning of giving treatments, ivana took us on a tour of the city which entailed either the execution or planning of the aforementioned activities. at around 2pm, our capacities for tourism were maxed out, so we had her drop us off at the marina so we could relax on our friend gavin's boat. basking in the sun, i blissfully allowed my brain to shut off. it did.
at this point i realized that i have four different types of currency in my wallet: indian rupees, euros, us dollars, and dirhams. where the hell am i?
i opened my eyes to a skyful of blue, across which a mast with sails drawn gently rocked. the boat gently creaked against it's moorings. in the distance, jet skis soared across blue crystal-smooth waters. the workers on the neighboring yacht played poker in the shade on the dock. a seagull lazily cawed, presumably to another seagull socialite about the quality of the caviar offered at a nearby seaside shisha bar. next to me, a sleeping monkey stirred.
it was all too real, so strangely familiar yet remarkably foreign. with traces of indian dust still deeply ingrained under my fingernails, i've got the pearly sand of arabian nights breezing silk between my toes. i need reference. i need to check in. i need something to help bring me back to and ground me down firmly through my roots.
i need to go to the mall.
growing up on long island, one could easily hear that statement a few times daily. my culture was commerece, my peasant foods were a selection of 'international delicacies' from the food court. the native long islander dress was a selection of clothing from stores like abercrombie & fitch, guess, pacific sunwear, and j. crew. like an episode of lost, i escaped the island only to lose my mind somewhere between the ebb and flow of the present and the past. i needed to reconnect with a constant between the two.
the marina mall is one of the larger malls in abu-dhabi, and is aptly named due to the close proximity to the marina where our boat was parked. by close, i mean five minutes. walking. slowly. which is exactly what i did. the parking lot was filled with a variety large and/or fast cars, which allowed for the walk to be engagingly slow. i entered the mall through a large circular revolving door, escaping the hot desert sun into the air-conditioned kiss of marbled architecture. so much for cultural constants.
earlier in the day, when we walked around the emirates palace-- the extremely expensive hotel built by the late sheik zayed--i observed a feeling that i was walking around a casino in vegas. the only difference, and an extremely large on at that, was in the type of people who were walking around with me. one is hard pressed to find a truely quiet spot in las vegas while walking around the cavernous hallways and thoroughfares both inside and connecting the casinos. you can wander aimless ly among the garish and the ornate, be it the level of decor or type of personality. no expense is spared to simulate an experience of authenticity.
and that's just it. whereas a place like vegas simulates the experience of authenticity for anyone who can afford a ticket to ride, abu-dhabi is home for those who live the real thing. this is no simulation of luxury, it is the authentic experience. despite this, barring the skyrocketing price of reali estate, living in abu-dhabi is surprisingly amenable to the traveling yogi's pocket. the dirham (or the euro or rupee or dollar) goes pretty far here. walking around the mall, i started to breathe a little easier as i perused comfortably repulsive storefronts like accessorize!, radio shack, baskin' robins, the gap, and starbucks. the halls were just as sparely populated as those in the emirates palace, yet the design was remarkably similar with regard to attention to detail.
whoever built this city did not do it on rock and roll. artisans have been chartered. even in its most excessive parts, abu-dhabi retains a sense of style and taste. of course, much like my own appreciation for where i come from, i don't necessarily always agree with whoever's style and taste it is.
'the sheik. he want to build city. so he build city, build break water, push back beach. the road we drive on? this was not here two years ago.'
julia: 'where did he get all of the trees from? these are old trees.'
'he buy them and fly them in. he had a vision.'
he definitely did.
'the sheik, he said he wants bird. so he buys three or four million birds and let's them loose.'
why not?
'the birds shit everwhere. people complain. so the sheik, he buys cats. the birds disappear.'
naturally. sounds like a good solution to me.
no. the cats, they get sick. start to die. the people complain. so they burn them.'
the cats?
yes, they collect the cats and burn them.
we have a saying in america: you can't make an omletter without breaking some eggs.
'so?'
sounds like a few eggs were broken when the sheik was building his dream.
'what a crazy omlette.'
agreed.
they funny part is that once i begin to comprehend the level of fantasy vs. fantastic reality of my current surroundings, i check cnn for news back in the states to find out completely ridiculous events like THIS which beg the question, "which society is stranger-- the west or the middle east?"
'36 years ago, there was nothing. just sand. just desert.'
what was it like when you got here?
'i lived in small villa with my husband. we drink chai. i take care of baby and learn arabic.'
that sounds intense.
'it was boring. i decide to start business instead.'
what is it like seeing how the city has grown in such a short time?
'the sheiks here, they have money and they are not afraid to spend it.'
i've been spending a lot of time with a croation hairdresser named ivana during my time in abu-dhabi, whom julia and i met during the workshops. she's taken us for coffee at the emirates palace, helped to arrange horse riding lessons at the equestrian club, set up a desert safari, and took us out salsa dancing at club zenith. the emirates palace is a seven-star luxury hotel (with modest rooms beginning at $3000aed/$1000us a night), the coffee was dusted with gold flakes, the horses are the finest arabian horses available, and the salsa lessons were... well, just regular ol' salsa lessons.
it's hard to paint a realistic picture of this place. the paints seem to all be mislabeled, the brushes either too fine or too soft, and the canvas has been stretched very tight across the frame.
after a full morning of giving treatments, ivana took us on a tour of the city which entailed either the execution or planning of the aforementioned activities. at around 2pm, our capacities for tourism were maxed out, so we had her drop us off at the marina so we could relax on our friend gavin's boat. basking in the sun, i blissfully allowed my brain to shut off. it did.
at this point i realized that i have four different types of currency in my wallet: indian rupees, euros, us dollars, and dirhams. where the hell am i?
i opened my eyes to a skyful of blue, across which a mast with sails drawn gently rocked. the boat gently creaked against it's moorings. in the distance, jet skis soared across blue crystal-smooth waters. the workers on the neighboring yacht played poker in the shade on the dock. a seagull lazily cawed, presumably to another seagull socialite about the quality of the caviar offered at a nearby seaside shisha bar. next to me, a sleeping monkey stirred.
it was all too real, so strangely familiar yet remarkably foreign. with traces of indian dust still deeply ingrained under my fingernails, i've got the pearly sand of arabian nights breezing silk between my toes. i need reference. i need to check in. i need something to help bring me back to and ground me down firmly through my roots.
i need to go to the mall.
growing up on long island, one could easily hear that statement a few times daily. my culture was commerece, my peasant foods were a selection of 'international delicacies' from the food court. the native long islander dress was a selection of clothing from stores like abercrombie & fitch, guess, pacific sunwear, and j. crew. like an episode of lost, i escaped the island only to lose my mind somewhere between the ebb and flow of the present and the past. i needed to reconnect with a constant between the two.
the marina mall is one of the larger malls in abu-dhabi, and is aptly named due to the close proximity to the marina where our boat was parked. by close, i mean five minutes. walking. slowly. which is exactly what i did. the parking lot was filled with a variety large and/or fast cars, which allowed for the walk to be engagingly slow. i entered the mall through a large circular revolving door, escaping the hot desert sun into the air-conditioned kiss of marbled architecture. so much for cultural constants.
earlier in the day, when we walked around the emirates palace-- the extremely expensive hotel built by the late sheik zayed--i observed a feeling that i was walking around a casino in vegas. the only difference, and an extremely large on at that, was in the type of people who were walking around with me. one is hard pressed to find a truely quiet spot in las vegas while walking around the cavernous hallways and thoroughfares both inside and connecting the casinos. you can wander aimless ly among the garish and the ornate, be it the level of decor or type of personality. no expense is spared to simulate an experience of authenticity.
and that's just it. whereas a place like vegas simulates the experience of authenticity for anyone who can afford a ticket to ride, abu-dhabi is home for those who live the real thing. this is no simulation of luxury, it is the authentic experience. despite this, barring the skyrocketing price of reali estate, living in abu-dhabi is surprisingly amenable to the traveling yogi's pocket. the dirham (or the euro or rupee or dollar) goes pretty far here. walking around the mall, i started to breathe a little easier as i perused comfortably repulsive storefronts like accessorize!, radio shack, baskin' robins, the gap, and starbucks. the halls were just as sparely populated as those in the emirates palace, yet the design was remarkably similar with regard to attention to detail.
whoever built this city did not do it on rock and roll. artisans have been chartered. even in its most excessive parts, abu-dhabi retains a sense of style and taste. of course, much like my own appreciation for where i come from, i don't necessarily always agree with whoever's style and taste it is.
'the sheik. he want to build city. so he build city, build break water, push back beach. the road we drive on? this was not here two years ago.'
julia: 'where did he get all of the trees from? these are old trees.'
'he buy them and fly them in. he had a vision.'
he definitely did.
'the sheik, he said he wants bird. so he buys three or four million birds and let's them loose.'
why not?
'the birds shit everwhere. people complain. so the sheik, he buys cats. the birds disappear.'
naturally. sounds like a good solution to me.
no. the cats, they get sick. start to die. the people complain. so they burn them.'
the cats?
yes, they collect the cats and burn them.
we have a saying in america: you can't make an omletter without breaking some eggs.
'so?'
sounds like a few eggs were broken when the sheik was building his dream.
'what a crazy omlette.'
agreed.
they funny part is that once i begin to comprehend the level of fantasy vs. fantastic reality of my current surroundings, i check cnn for news back in the states to find out completely ridiculous events like THIS which beg the question, "which society is stranger-- the west or the middle east?"
rock the phonecall
scotty would like it.
rock the phonecall, rock the phonecall.
for a good time, call +971 50 825 3171.
rock the phonecall, rock the phonecall.
for a good time, call +971 50 825 3171.
frantically grabbing for cultural context
typing. typing. typing... pause. hmmm.
click, drag, delete.
typing, typing, typing.... pause. sigh.
click, drag, delete.
somewhat frustrated tap-tap-tapping...
backspaceBACKSPACEBACKSPACE
pause. staring off at the wall.
crack knuckles.
deep breath.
abu-dhabi is surreal, and i'm somewhat at a loss on where to begin to explain how. let's start with the obvious:
-there are palaces everywhere. by palace, i'm referring to full-on castle-like complexes, complete with minarets, crenelated parapets, and barbicans.
-men wear dishdashah and women wear abaya.
-everyone drives large and/or fast cars.
-you will hear hear the salaah five times a day, no matter where you are.
-the standard beverage can here utilizes pull-tab technology instead of the standard rinking_can_ring-pull_tab.jpg">stay-tab in the west.
-on a good day, it's hot and sunny. on a bad one, it is oppressively hot and sunny, not to mention windy and dusty. and humid. in the shade.
-the weekend here is friday and saturday. this means that sundays are the new monday, and thursdays are the new friday, except that its not new at all. it is now monday, and i have no clue what that means other than tonight is chili night at my friend's house... yay!
-gas is cheap, and by cheap, i mean 15 years ago cheap. 99cents a gallon cheap. this is most likely why everyone is inclined to drive large and/or fast cars.
-people park their large and/or fast cars everywhere, with little regard for anyone or thing else. parking lots are huge, overpacked, and completely ineffective.
-physical contact between men and women is somewhat of a no-no. up until recently, it was a major no-no, but now it seems o.k. to touch hands in public, although i feel that i might go to jail if anyone catches julia and i holding hands. we joke about that, but deep down it's a little unsettling.
overall, abu-dhabi is a mix of las vegas, fort lauderdale, and long island, resulting in a strange mix of familiarity and foreign displacement. we have been incredibly well-received by the yoga community here, and our friends who are hosting us have been very warm and accomodating. of course, this has also been in a very surreal fashion.
saturday was a perfect example. after a full day of successful workshops, we all went sailing around the arabian gulf on a 50ft boat. we swam, rode the jet ski, flew on the bow and barbequed as a golden sun dipped below a glowing horizon artfully dotted by palm-trees and, you guessed it, palaces. taking it's place was a brilliant shiva moon dotted with the cyclops eye of venus. we had satelite internet. i chatted with one of my best men, ehren, over skype. he enthusicastically showed me his new office. i excitedly described to him the current state of affiars.
all of this would be pretty mind-blowing were i to arrive here from anywhere in europe or the states. to make the jump from india to the middle east, however, has left me frantically grabbing for cultural context as the whirlwind tour continues to slide across the globe. we'll be here for the next two weeks before heading to dubai for another weekend of workshops. i'm still trying to both climatize to both the weather and the culture, and presume that this may take a few more days before i can truely begin to process and relate what the heck is going on over here.
overall, it should be noted that spirits are (very) high and that we're extremely busy catching up on all sorts of admin work for the rest of the tour, planning a wedding or two for the summer, giving private treatments and personal trainings, and that last night i was in my first motorcyle stop-light road race. even though i was just a passenger and that it lasted no longer than one city block, we won as a result of going incredibly fast.*
surreal or otherwise, i gotta say that i like it here.
*yes, mom, i was wearing a helmet.
click, drag, delete.
typing, typing, typing.... pause. sigh.
click, drag, delete.
somewhat frustrated tap-tap-tapping...
backspaceBACKSPACEBACKSPACE
pause. staring off at the wall.
crack knuckles.
deep breath.
abu-dhabi is surreal, and i'm somewhat at a loss on where to begin to explain how. let's start with the obvious:
-there are palaces everywhere. by palace, i'm referring to full-on castle-like complexes, complete with minarets, crenelated parapets, and barbicans.
-men wear dishdashah and women wear abaya.
-everyone drives large and/or fast cars.
-you will hear hear the salaah five times a day, no matter where you are.
-the standard beverage can here utilizes pull-tab technology instead of the standard rinking_can_ring-pull_tab.jpg">stay-tab in the west.
-on a good day, it's hot and sunny. on a bad one, it is oppressively hot and sunny, not to mention windy and dusty. and humid. in the shade.
-the weekend here is friday and saturday. this means that sundays are the new monday, and thursdays are the new friday, except that its not new at all. it is now monday, and i have no clue what that means other than tonight is chili night at my friend's house... yay!
-gas is cheap, and by cheap, i mean 15 years ago cheap. 99cents a gallon cheap. this is most likely why everyone is inclined to drive large and/or fast cars.
-people park their large and/or fast cars everywhere, with little regard for anyone or thing else. parking lots are huge, overpacked, and completely ineffective.
-physical contact between men and women is somewhat of a no-no. up until recently, it was a major no-no, but now it seems o.k. to touch hands in public, although i feel that i might go to jail if anyone catches julia and i holding hands. we joke about that, but deep down it's a little unsettling.
overall, abu-dhabi is a mix of las vegas, fort lauderdale, and long island, resulting in a strange mix of familiarity and foreign displacement. we have been incredibly well-received by the yoga community here, and our friends who are hosting us have been very warm and accomodating. of course, this has also been in a very surreal fashion.
saturday was a perfect example. after a full day of successful workshops, we all went sailing around the arabian gulf on a 50ft boat. we swam, rode the jet ski, flew on the bow and barbequed as a golden sun dipped below a glowing horizon artfully dotted by palm-trees and, you guessed it, palaces. taking it's place was a brilliant shiva moon dotted with the cyclops eye of venus. we had satelite internet. i chatted with one of my best men, ehren, over skype. he enthusicastically showed me his new office. i excitedly described to him the current state of affiars.
all of this would be pretty mind-blowing were i to arrive here from anywhere in europe or the states. to make the jump from india to the middle east, however, has left me frantically grabbing for cultural context as the whirlwind tour continues to slide across the globe. we'll be here for the next two weeks before heading to dubai for another weekend of workshops. i'm still trying to both climatize to both the weather and the culture, and presume that this may take a few more days before i can truely begin to process and relate what the heck is going on over here.
overall, it should be noted that spirits are (very) high and that we're extremely busy catching up on all sorts of admin work for the rest of the tour, planning a wedding or two for the summer, giving private treatments and personal trainings, and that last night i was in my first motorcyle stop-light road race. even though i was just a passenger and that it lasted no longer than one city block, we won as a result of going incredibly fast.*
surreal or otherwise, i gotta say that i like it here.
*yes, mom, i was wearing a helmet.