But it Pours

So I'm having a shower. And I hear this sound. A sound, kind of like water gushing out of a hose. And it's not the shower that's making this sound. It's the drain in the middle of my bathroom floor gushing water into my bathroom, and subsequently into my room. About 2 inches of water. And taking into account the relative non-absorbancy of marble - it doesn't appear to be soaking into anything fast. Except my luggage. And my books. And my clothes. And my paintings. All of which, getting ready to move, have been placed in organized piles on the floor.

Stress doesn't even begin to describe my mood right now. Something, probably, along the lines of "quiet hysteria".

Float My Boat

CocoRosie, that lovable sorority duo from Paris is following up their album "Maison de Mon Reve" with a new album "Noah's Ark" on September 15th! I'm so excited. Here's hoping they come to good old Alberta. I'll put 'em up in my dorm, yes I will.

Endurance is right.

Sounds like an interesting show, and an great concept.

Witch Sex? Yup.

I just finished reading "Wicked" by Gregory Maguire- kind of the prequel to L. Frank Baum's "Wizard of Oz". It was an excellent book. (Hmm.. I sound kind of like a broken record. I'm going to have to read a really bad book so I can write a scathing review - show you I'm not entirely biased.)

"Wicked" follows the Wicked Witch of the West (Elphaba) from a somewhat traumatic birth and childhood to her watery grave. At it's heart, it's an interesting look at what makes people essentially good, and what makes them evil. Maguire is pretty deft with his literary devices, but uses them well enough not to make it feel like a joke. It's really an excellent read - I loved learning about the Wicked Witch.. and the fact that not only was she not so wicked, but she was kinda sexy too.

For all those who cheer for the bad guys -this is a great read.

Next up on the reading list - Karen Armstrong's "Islam" and Fyodor Dostoevsky's "The Brothers Karamazov"

Stress? Me?

Alright, so we're on the final countdown. And only this morning have we finally booked a car, a place to stay, and confirmed our tickets. I think that's pretty true to form for my family. And I was just wondering why I've broken out into a Monet on my face, I look like pointalism in it's purest abstract form. I think I've figured it out.

I finished work last Friday in a flurry of papers and coffee with colleagures and right smack in the middle of preparations for a big ministerial visit that I won't be here for. Woohoo! It was definately an experience - working at an Embassy. A good friend once said that "Making foreign policy is like making sausage. It's not pretty, and if you saw what went into it, you might not want to eat it in the end. " Frankly, I think that we should put that on our pens and stationary.

4 days left in India - and I can't believe all the things I haven't done. I was seriously attempting to squeeze a one day trip up to Amritsar in the Punjab into my schedual - until I realised it was already 11am and I didn't have any serious plans of getting up in at least the next 2 hours. I tell myself that I'm training to deal with my jetlag - if I'm sleeping halfway into my day here.. then I've only got 6 hours of jet lag to deal with, instead of 12. Not bad if you ask me.

In reality, in between bouts of intense shopping (my mother) and drinking sweet lime soda by the pool (me and my brother) I've figured out that I'm ready to leave. People do this strange thing where they tip their heads on the side, assume this really huper concerned look and say "Is it time? Are you ready?" It cracks me up. Just because 90% of the native population of this country is itching to leave, doesn't mean that I am.

There are certainly things that I am looking forward to however - lettuce. I can't wait to have a big salad of romaine or greenleaf lettuce. And not have it taste like bleach or iodine. I can't wait to go to a grocery store.. I think I'm just going to wander around for a little while. I can't wait to buy a bra from a real store, and not from a guy on a street corner who is offering to measure you himself. *laugh*

Alright - I can feel a bout of packing coming on. 9 months in two 70lb bags. I can do it! Take care all. Blogging will be pretty sporadic the next little while. It doesn't mean I'm not thinking about you. ;-)

August Essential Listening

1. Japanese Girls - Robbers on High Street
2. Small Town Witch - Sneaker Pimps
3. Speak Low - Billie Holiday
4. Club Foot - Kasabian
5. Poor Boy, Minor Key - M. Ward
6. Apply Some Pressure - Maximo Park
7. We Run This - Missy Elliot
8. Secret Meeting - The National
9. Midnight Hour - Otis Reading
10. Cold Hungry Blues - Po' Girl

This Side of a Bad Book

I finished (finally) F. Scott Fitzgerald's "This Side of Paradise". And I have to say, despite accolades I've read that it's better than "The Great Gatsby".. it might be one of the most tedious books I've ever read. It's the story of Amory Blaine, growing up through the 1900's. I should have read between the lines - it was the worst "coming of age" book I've read yet.

Its saving grace was in the last 20 pages, in which it transformed into a semi-Socialist "Atlas Shrugged", and some really interesting (and though often rehashed, probably original ideas at the time) points of view. But they could have done without the previous 270 pages. My eyes are sore from rolling in my head. Don't waste your time - read the last 20 pages, and count yourself lucky.

The Reason

I know this may appear to be a little callous. And perhaps it is.

But I'm moved to nausea listening to the "claims for a public enquiry" into the death of the Brazilian man shot in London.

I'm aware, well and truly, that a family needs closure. From airplane crashes, from boating accidents, from the Holocaust. But they're asking, demanding actually, that they be given a reason that their son (who, like all innocent men in death, had the sun emanating directly from his rectum) was shot.

I'm pretty sure that given everything I've watched, that we've all been given an appropriate and full account of what happened - one that should suffice even for a bereaved family. The man was followed from his home (that was, we know now, housing other confirmed terrorists), to the subway; where he ignored orders by the police to stop, drop and confess. He didn't, he ran, he was shot 7 times in the head.

Ian Blair, the Metropolitan Police Chief, is now under attack for attempting to halt the full and transparent (as if we could have a demi-opaque) public enquiry. The man has a city of innumerable persons to protect, and what people don't understand (and perhaps this is only my personal view) is that not everything, especailly in the world we live in, can be open to public scrutiny. There ARE things that need to be kept private, in the consideration of ongoing investigations, that we have no right to know, and no right to demand we're to be told. I believe in publicized procedures and private results - let me know what's going on, what I can do to protect myself, and then you do the rest of the protecting in accordance to what you find.

I feel for the officers that had to make that decision, and even more for their colleagues who will have to make it in the future. They have been given the order to shoot people in the head, and in these particular cases.. I think that's appropriate. But to now worry that they've made a mistake (which they had) and caused an accident (which they haven't) -will only lead to delayed reflexes. I'm sorry, if I'm on a train and a man with a bomb is getting on, I don't want my policemen moralising the shot to the foot over the one to the head. And I think, if we're all honest - we probably all think that way.

I think it is of the utmost importance that we assign the correct language to this incident. It wasn't an 'accident'. It was a deliberate choice, the pursuivance of orders, and the correct course of action to take. That it resulted in the death of a young man is unfortunate. But it wasn't an accident, it wasn't a blow to civil rights, it wasn't 'malpractice' and it was not some kind of crime.

That the people conducting the 'Public Enquiry' (and I ask.. who in Britain that takes the tube really wants an enquiry?) are suggesting that these policemen be charged with manslaughter is nothing less that abhorrent. That these men are being persecuted, by however few, for doing their job, is frightening. We cannot charge men with crimes when they honestly believed that they were protecting their citizens from what had the possibility (and unfortunate probability) of becoming another terrorist attack. Because if we start prosecuting them.. Then Mr. Bush might as well buy some soap on a rope.

It is a sad thing when we are at a point in our civilization where the death of an innocent man has to be counted in a way such as this. But these are the times we live in, and those are, unfortunately, the consequences. We're all aware of them. That should be the overall conclusion of the public enquiry.

I'm Worse At This Than I Am At Baseball..

All the satisfaction of penguin brutality. None of the consequences.

Po' Girl, Great Girl

I'm hooked - I got this from Ian this morning, can't stop listening. The Po' Girls have just rocketed to the top of my "Most Played" list. This record makes me want to sit and smoke in a rocking chair and drink whiskey and sing and shoot at the gophers with a shotgun. And occasionally dance around the porch in my barefeet. Or maybe with just a single cowboy boot on. Check out "Driving". You'll catch my drift. Or my boot.

Disengagement? Like.. Not getting Married?

If the Gaza Pullout Plan (not another form of birth control) has you puzzled, check out these articles to get you started. They cover most of the political reasons.. For the rest, you might need to bring out the Bible.  Regardless - this is another piece of history. Stay tuned.

Long Weekend Wonder

I'm so thrilled that I had a long weekend.. I worked 12 hour days both Saturday and Sunday, but Independance Day is a national holiday.. and as a result, I got to spend the entire day lazing around in my pj's.

Saturday and Sunday were great, in terms of getting reading done. I was just working security, which entails making sure that the painters don't walk out with generators and confidential papers at the end of the day. Which makes for a fairly easy job. (Generator big - man small.). I managed to finish a few books (as noted somewhere below) on Saturday, and then on Sunday...

Sunday I finished up "Bullet Points" by Mark Watson. Touted as "the love child of Woody Allen and William Boyd" (which is pretty strong hypothetical partentage to live up to..) it really was excellent. The faux autobiography of a psychologist and his somewhat strange career, it's full of humour, humanity, and a little heartbreak. It's incredibly well written - not a light read, but a good one.

Wrapped up "The Icarus Girl" this morning. I'd heard some complaints about the ending - but I think it might have been from people with little imagination. I really enjoyed it.. although I have to say, it's probably the spookiest book I've read in a while. Set in Nigeria and England, I'm glad I read "Things Fall Apart" first - they cover some of the same topics (mysticism, twins and superstitions surrounding them). Otherwise you'd have to do some anthropology research and some cultural digging to close some of the major cultural chasms. Where "Things Fall Apart" really gives you the background knowledge you need, the "The Icarus Girl" leaves you in the dark a little. I imagine you'd get along ok without knowing.. But I found it lent a bit more depth having read something about the major topics.

The workers ended up staying later than they were originally booked on Sunday, stretching our day 3 hours longer, and way past the dinner hour. The really lovely thing is, that they sent somebody out for dinner, and brought a little for me too! They were so sweet, insisting that I not pay, and they were getting overtime for this work, and they wouldn't have if I hadn't agreed to stay late. It was so sweet. So I was given a samosa and some gelabi (these really sweet, deep fried swirls of dough..) and shared dinner. It was fun.

As I said, today I spent the day in my pj's. I found "This Side of Paradise" (F. Scott Fitzgerald's first book) on my shelf, and realised I hadn't read it. It's touted as better than "The Great Gatsby", and semi-autobiographical. It's.. alright so far. Not that amazing. So I read that for most of the morning, and spend the afternoon with a cup of tea catching up on the New York Times and whatnot.

I'm so happy that I got an honest to goodness day off. It's been wonderful to just relax, take more than two deep breaths in a row. I only have 3 1/2 days of work left, and only 13 days left in India. Now comes the hustle. This part is never easy! On the upside, it means that I'm getting closer to seeing Bryan. There's an upside everywhere. You just have to look harder sometimes!

Take care all.

Better Late Than Never..

Here are a few pictures from our amazing trip to Rishikesh..

An Actual Action Guy..

Pictured here in his natural environment.

I Could Be an Action Girl...

At least I look good in the uniform..

Kickin' Back..

After the river riding action..

Happy Independence Day..

August 15th is Independence Day here in India. An astounding amount of militia is out on the streets, the army is everywhere. The PM makes his address to the nation tomorrow, and with the assasination of Sri Lanka's FM this week, I can imagine he's more than a little nervous. If it's any indication of the security risk, not even my parents are going to the parade. Yeeps. This is one we'll watch on TV, thank you very much.

Broken Peaces.

The Foreign Minister of Sri Lanka was assassinated yesterday. They have declared a state of emergency in the whole country, including our beloved Colombo. Relative peace reigned between the Tamil Tigers and the Government after the tsunami - this is the first time since then its been broken. See more here.

A Book A Day...

So I'm at work for another Saturday doing security work - and a long Saturday at that. I've been here from nine this morning, and will be here until nine-thirty this evening. And I'll be back tomorrow. The wonderful thing is - I've already finished two books, and have another 2 to go.

This morning I read "The Old Man and the Sea" by Ernest Hemingway. Definately an excellent book - though I found it irredeemably sad. And surprising -I didn't think that Hemingway was religious in any way, shape or form, yet his Christ-like symbolism in the book was so prevelent. I really liked it - you can take it in so many ways, and I'm sure if I read it 10 years from now I'll derive something completely different. An excellent book. Books about fishing usually are.

And just now I finished Kurt Vonnegut's "God Bless You Mr. Rosewater". What an excellent book! Social commentary, political commentary (because sometimes they're seperate) and comedy all rolled into one. What I love is that Vonnegut brings in other characters from other novels, even objects from other novels - it makes it almost like a treasure hunt reading the books. I really enjoyed it. It's my 3rd Vonnegut book - I have a feeling I'll be reading quite a few more.

Something strange - in "The Old Man and the Sea", the fisherman speaks briefly of "Portugese man-o-war's" (from what I gather, something like a jellyfish, painful in its sting). In "God Bless You Mr. Rosewater", they also get a mention. Thought it was odd that the two books that I would read today would both have such an obscure reference in them. Literary serendipity.

Only 4 1/2 hours left of work. I'm delving into "The Icarus Girl" by Helen Oyeyemi. Don't you just feel like you haven't done a whole lot when a 20 year old is beating you to the punch with a prize winning novel?

I'd Hate to See Them Hungry

This little ditty was in the paper today.

Niger Leader Denies Famine

Friday 12th, 2005 - Guardian News Service

The President of Niger has denied reports that the country is facing a famine, saying his people "look well fed".

President Mamdou Tandja admitted that a devastating locust invasion and poor rains had created a food shortage, but said that it was not unusual for Niger or the entire Sahel region on the southern edge of the Sahara desert.

"We are experiencing, like all the countries in the Sahel, a food crisis due to the poor harvest and the locust attacks of 2004." Tandja said in and interview with the BBC. "The people of Niger look well-fed, ad you can see."

Well Fed?

Via the "Indian Express"..

Only in India - a few days of headlines.

"Scientists draw up rice Genome Blueprint"

"Councillors seek 1 Cow norm for Delhi households"

"Labourer Dies at Work"

Oh Jimmy Hoffa..

Check out the raging TELUS union debate here. Don't you just love the comments? Personal attacks are so much more effective than honest deliberation. Bravo to those of you with a brain and a mouth - that happen to be connected.

Damn this Confuser

I've got all these pictures from Sri Lanka that I've been wanting to put on my blog. I didn't know that to hook the camera up you need such a specific cord and so on and so forth - it's just painful. This damn computer will be the death of me. This computer, my computer at work, the fax machine, the photocopier. None of them like me (least of all the shredder, of all the dangerous things) and all do their best to jam, fail, short out, run out of toner, and just generally not WORK when I'm in the vicinity. And now, as I'm writing this, my computer screen appears to be having an fit, and is flickering like a blinking eye. Help me HAL.

And Read All Over..

I've been reading books in the few and extremely fleeting moments that I've had free of late. I've only managed, in turn, to finish 3 of them. I finally succeeded in completing Jose Saramago's "Blindness", and when I needed a smaller, easier book, read "Slaughterhouse Five" (which I'd always felt like somewhat of a traitor never having read.). With nothing to read on last nights security shift, I found "Something Rising ( Light and Swift)" by Haven Kimmel and read that.

"Blindness" while difficult (I'm a fan of punctuation. Sue me.) was ultimately rewarding. He gives you the ending that you seek, but not before you realise that you don't really need it. It was a stunning, and at times horrific book, but you can easily see why it won the Nobel Prize in literature. It's an amazing book, but one of those books that you could never read twice. The devil is in the details, and I think I read too many not to have nightmares.

"Slaughterhouse Five" (while I'm sure everyone has read it except me) was NOTHING like I expected, and therefore a million times more than I hoped for. There was this moderately interesting boy in my highschool who used to carry it around in his back pocket, then his n'er do well loser buddy started doing the same thing (although I have serious and infinite doubts that he actually read it - or was capable of reading at all for that matter) and from that point I swore that I would never read it. I'm not sure if it was the association with those boys that held me back, or the idea that I would somehow end up in their back pocket if I read it... But I finally buckled down and found it a most enjoyable read. If you're holding back for fear of ending up in a loser boys pair of pants - don't.

And a surprisingly good book, "Something Rising (Light and Swift)".. I generally as a rule never read anything with "young girl coming of age" in the description (it conjures up too many thoughts of "Are you there God? It's me, Margaret.") I had nothing to read and so prepared myself for a badly written book about the embarrassment of underarm hair and such. In reality, it's a completely weird story of a girl in Indiana and her completely messed up yet sadly loving family. If there is one word.. it would be tragic. And if there was another? Excellent. I really enjoyed it, and was pleasantly surprised. I've never heard of her, or anything else she's written - but this is a good book, a "coming of age" exception.

So I've got 19 hours of security work this weekend, and intend to read for as many of them as humanly possible. My friend (ahem, you know who you are.... That confirms that I only have one friend.) is supposed to be reading "1984" at the same time as I, to help shed our collective shame over the fact that neither of us have read the purportedly important novel - and yet still feel free to make the cliched comic remarks about "Big Brother". So I'm going to read that, and hopefully some more Kurt Vonnegut. After "Mother Night" I was hooked, and I swallowed "Slaughterhouse Five" whole, so I'm going to go from there. Anyone with any other suggestions, they're welcome. I've got 19 hours to fill. At approx. 3 hours per book.. that's a lot of reading. Here's to the eye cancer.

Worth a Read

I've been mulling over this article for days - so I thought I'd share it with you. Key point, in my books, and as pertains to Canada, is the fifth paragraph.
------
Why Tolerate the Hate?
By IRSHAD MANJIPublished: August 9, 2005, New York Times

FOR a European leader, Prime Minister Tony Blair of Britain has done something daring. He has given notice not just to the theocrats of Islam, but also to the theocracy of tolerance.

"Staying here carries with it a duty," Mr. Blair said in referring to foreign-born Muslim clerics who glorify terror on British soil. "That duty is to share and support the values that sustain the British way of life. Those who break that duty and try to incite hatred or engage in violence against our country and its people have no place here."

With that, his government proposed new laws to deport extremist religious leaders, to shut down the mosques that house them and to ban groups with a history of supporting terrorism. The reaction was swift: a prominent human rights advocate described Mr. Blair's measures as "neo-McCarthyite hectoring," warning that they would make the British "less distinguishable from the violent, hateful and unforgiving theocrats, our democracy undermined from within in ways that the suicide bombers could only have dreamed of."

But if these anti-terror measures feel like an overreaction to the London bombings, that's only because Britons, like so many in the West, have been avoiding a vigorous debate about what values are most worth defending in our societies.

As Westerners bow down before multiculturalism, we anesthetize ourselves into believing that anything goes. We see our readiness to accommodate as a strength - even a form of cultural superiority (though few will admit that). Radical Muslims, on the other hand, see our inclusive instincts as a form of corruption that makes us soft and rudderless. They believe the weak deserve to be vanquished.

Paradoxically, then, the more we accommodate to placate, the more their contempt for our "weakness" grows. And ultimate paradox may be that in order to defend our diversity, we'll need to be less tolerant. Or, at the very least, more vigilant. And this vigilance demands more than new antiterror laws. It requires asking: What guiding values can most of us live with? Given the panoply of ideologies and faiths out there, what filter will distill almost everybody's right to free expression?

Neither the watery word "tolerance" nor the slippery phrase "mutual respect" will cut it as a guiding value. Why tolerate violent bigotry? Where's the "mutual" in that version of mutual respect? Amin Maalouf, a French-Arab novelist, nailed this point when he wrote that "traditions deserve respect only insofar as they are respectable - that is, exactly insofar as they themselves respect the fundamental rights of men and women."

Allow me to invoke a real-life example of what can't be tolerated if we're going to maintain freedom of expression for as many people as possible. In 1999, an uproar surrounded the play "Corpus Christi" by Terrence McNally, in which Jesus was depicted as a gay man. Christians protested the show and picketed its European debut in Edinburgh, a reasonable exercise in free expression. But Omar Bakri Muhammad, a Muslim preacher and a judge on the self-appointed Sharia Court of the United Kingdom, went further: he signed a fatwa calling for Mr. McNally to be killed, on the grounds that Jesus is considered a prophet by Muslims. (Compassion overflowed in the clause that stated Mr. McNally "could be buried in a Muslim graveyard" if he repented.) Mr. Bakri then had the fatwa distributed throughout London.

Since then, Mr. Bakri has promoted violent struggle from various London meeting halls. He has even lionized the July 7 bombers as the "fantastic four." He is a counselor of death, and should not have been allowed to remain in Britain. And thanks to Mr. Blair's newfound fortitude, he has reportedly fled England for Lebanon.

The Muslim Council of Britain, a mainstream lobbying group that assailed Mr. Blair's proposed measures, has long claimed that men like Mr. Bakri represent only a slim fraction of the country's nearly two million Muslims. Assuming that's true, British Muslims - indeed, Muslims throughout the West - should rejoice at their departures or deportations, because all forms of Islam that respect the freedom to disbelieve, to go one's own way, will be strengthened.

Which brings me to my vote for a value that could guide Western societies: individuality. When we celebrate individuality, we let people choose who they are, be they members of a religion, free spirits, or something else entirely. I realize that for many Europeans, "individuality" might sound too much like the American ideal of individualism. It doesn't have to. Individualism - "I'm out for myself" - differs from individuality - "I'm myself, and my society benefits from my uniqueness."

Of course, there may be better values than individuality for Muslims and non-Muslims to embrace. Let's have that debate - without fear of being deemed self-haters or racists by those who twist multiculturalism into an orthodoxy. We know the dangers of taking Islam literally. By now we should understand the peril of taking tolerance literally.

Irshad Manji is the author of "The Trouble with Islam Today: A Muslim's Call for Reform in Her Faith."

----------

I think that she makes an excellent point, that too many people are afraid to make. Ie - Our culture is worth something too. Not just those who immigrate. Maybe in the end I'll have to go to Bulgaria to be appreciated as a Canadian..

Site O' the Day

Kid Rock.. pick a song.. any song...

Honk If You Love India

So we have this new driver, Louise. Not like "Lewis and Clarke", but Louise, with a French accent. Even though he's decidedly Indian. Which is fine, in fact, I like calling him Louise, and he appreciates that I'm the only one that doesn't call him Lewis. He appreciates it so much that every time I get in the car, he regales me in his broken English about how he was in Sri Lanka when the tsunami hit and they laid all the dead people out and the dogs ate them. Right. That will teach me for showing any interest when he first told me. At least his English is improving, albeit only when he tells this story.

Unfortunately, his lack of English in any area except for horrific stories will be his downfall, because ultimately we need a driver that understands when we say "Pull up the car", he doesn't look confused and honk the horn. That, and within the first week he'd already busted the trunk. He slams it so hard that your stomach jumps. I know this is awful.. but he does this thing where he jumps out of the car to open your door.. which I really hate, it makes me feel.. weird and uppity, so I always kind of dodge him and race to a different car door and jump in and close it. I'm sure he thinks I'm mentally challenged, the girl who plays evade the driver and likes to hear tsunami stories. (Which I don't, I swear, but it was the first time he spoke to me, so I tried to be interested.)

So he breaks the car, and has to take it to the Embassy car repair shop. Which he didn't understand, so my mom had to literally lead the way, walking in front of the car, to get him there. And now, the car doesn't start and the horn doesn't work. That's right, we took the car in to get the trunk fixed, and now it doesn't start and the horn doesn't work. If anyone can provide an explanation (other than the mechanic not knowing his trunk from a hole in the ground.. har har har..), it would be more than appreciated. Last I checked Toyotas don't have any connection between their trunks, horns and engines.. but hey, I might be mistaken.

One more thing. This is equal as horrible as having to play evade the driver in the list of reasons to get another new driver.. He looks like a cross between Eddie Murphy dressed up as the dad in "The Nutty Professor" and a Hobbit from "Lord of the Rings". He has all this hair growing out of his ears. Straight out. At a right angle. And a shiny head that makes it look like a bald cap. And I swear. He looks exactly like Eddie Murphy. But Indian.

I don't think Louise is going to be around for too long. Or else we might light a match under his ear hair.

Take Note.. Ahem..

Seoul, South Korea (Reuters) -- A South Korean man who played computer games for 50 hours almost non-stop died of heart failure minutes after finishing his mammoth session in an Internet cafe, authorities said on Tuesday.

The 28-year-old man, identified only by his family name Lee, had been playing online battle simulation games at the cybercafe in the southeastern city of Taegu, police said.

Lee had planted himself in front of a computer monitor to play on-line games on August 3. He only left the spot over the next three days to go to the toilet and take brief naps on a makeshift bed, they said.

"We presume the cause of death was heart failure stemming from exhaustion," a Taegu provincial police official said by telephone.

Lee had recently quit his job to spend more time playing games, the daily JoongAng Ilbo reported after interviewing former work colleagues and staff at the Internet cafe.

After he failed to return home, Lee's mother asked his former colleagues to find him. When they reached the cafe, Lee said he would finish the game and then go home, the paper reported.

He died a few minutes later, it said.

South Korea, one of the most wired countries in the world, has a large and highly developed game industry.

12 Dollar Ham, and The Day Jesus Showed Up on My Dashboard

There are things that you pay a premium for in a Hindu country. Honey cured ham, apparently, is one of them. 12$ for four slices to be exact. Some things are incredibly inexpensive here - waxing for instance. 75$ in Canada. 3$ in India. (there is an abundance of hair here. It's not like they're afraid they're going to run out..) Vegetables. About 30 cents for a pound of carrots. And on the flip side? Toilet paper - 3$ (100 rupees) a roll. Expensive when you think that that would feed a family of 5 a pretty hearty meal on street food. Without pork.. obviously.

And Jesus. You don't get a lot of Jesus here. I mean - down south they have a lot of Dutch Catholic colonies, we have a large Mormon base here in Delhi, in Kerala they even have a (albeit dwindling) Jewish community. But it's not exactly out there in the way that all the Hindu dieties are, you don't see 8 foot Jesus's painted on shops like you do Ganesh.

We're not a religious family. Spriritual - I'd like to think so - but religious.. not quite. So imagine my surprise when I hop into my car on Friday morning to find our new driver has a lovely little Jesus card on the dashboard. (not that a little help in Delhi traffic wouldn't be appreciated, don't get me wrong.) The strange thing about this (obviously Indian) Jesus, is that he appeared to be standing in front of a depiction of the White House.

This place boggles my mind. What will be normal when I leave here? Here's hoping for a pork eating Jesus with an elephant trunk. It'll make it homey. God Bless America.

A Lifetime a Day..

I can't believe that my time here is coming to an end.. I only officially have 22 days left in India before I take off back to Canada. I know that I'll be back here (at Christmas, and probably next summer..) but I don't think I'll ever be back here in quite the same capacity - or for the same length of time. (9 months!). There is irrifutable evidence that once you come to India, you'll never return in the same state as you were - India changes you too much, whether for the good, or the bad. You never fit the same perameters again.

Lately, I've been dwelling on all the things that I haven't had a chance to do while I'm here. (It always seems like there will be so much more time - until time is suddenly at a premium, and I never seem to have enough money to buy more.) So, for my own peace of mind, I've decided to put down, for posterity, (which I think sound too much like posterior, and reminds me I should get to the gym today..) what I have done in this part of the world.

• walked barefoot through the Taj Mahal - twice
• rafted the "Holy River Ganga" in the Himalayan Mountains
• travelled for 8 days, and up 6500 ft into Manali in the Himalayas
• survived a 17 hour bus ride from Manali to New Delhi on an Indian Bus careening through the mountains at mach speed.
• ridden atop an elephant up to an ancient fort
• lived on a boat and recieved my advanced open water diver for scuba diving (in Myanmar/Burma)
• did a 30 minute night dive, dove to 30 metres, and learned underwater navigation..(not all on one dive) (in Myanmar)
• climbed Sigiriya Rock (in Sri Lanaka)
• visited a tea plantation and drank the best cup of tea of my life (in Sri Lanka)
• fed a baby elephant a bottle of milk (in Sri Lanka)
• been to 4 countries - Sri Lanka, Thailand, Myanmar, India (and hopefully Pakistan soon!)
• seen a huge number of World Heritage Sites

When I list them out like that - they just seem like so much less than their worth as a whole - how they've changed me. Of course, the things you learn completeing these adventures are far more valuable.. well, than anything. Like the fact that I now know that I can survive on dahl and chapatis for 8 days. That I can sleep on dirty sheets, not take a shower, and still enjoy travelling. (Me!) And the little things you do in between these things - I've sat on a rock in a Himalayan waterfall, surrounded by Nepalese goat herders and white long haired goats with blue eyes - and knit myself a scarf. I've stopped for chai in the middle of the night to sit with an Israeli, a Briton, a French girl and an Australian and watched Hindi Kung-Foo movies. I learned to tie a sari and dance like an Indian. I can speak a passable ammount of the language.

I'm proud of myself for what I've accomplished here, for the limits I've pressed myself to - for seeing what I do everyday - and keeping my eyes open. Sure - I've got 22 days left here. But in this country? In 22 days, you can live, and learn, a lifetime.

Muggy August Playlist

For your listening pleasure.

1. Four Hours in Washington - M. Ward
2. Dig the Lightening -Robbers on High Street
3. What they Found- Octopus Project
4. Losing Streak - Eels
5. One Day Without -Keren Ann
6. Spit it Out -Brendan Benson
7. She's so Cold -The Golden Republic
8. Radio Campaign - M. Ward
9. My Lady Story -Antony and the Johnsons
10. I'd Rather Dance with You - Kings of Convienience
11. Apply Some Pressure - Maximo Park
12. Just Got Robbed - The Sights
10. Wandering Star -Portishead
11. Karen - The National
12. Different Days -L'altra

I like it. I like it a lot.

Tip your hats to these guys.

What's that you've got there? ...

.. a baby!

But it's not ours. That's why we're smiling.

Damn This Idle Cursor...

But what a benefit it is to you!

Creepy.. Yet Oddly Addictive

"Democratic Media Outlet". Novel. (please take one grain of salt prior to visiting said site.)

So DIY, you'll want her to do it for you!

Keyboard Hysterics. I have no idea where Q is. Ever.

Listen to her. Oh the beauty.

When Booking an Airplane Seat on a Boeing 737-800...

Seat 29E. Remember that number folks.

Only 33 Sleeps

I must have some vestigial seasonal awareness left over from Canada - it feels like fall here, even in 35 degree heat and counting. Suddenly it feels like the days are getting shorter, I'm coming out from work and the shadows are longer and the air has just that hint of coolness, an idea of the season more than the season it self.

I'm in the mood for heavy brown wool sweaters and potato soup and cold noses. There is something so wonderful about warming up by a fire, by a friend, hot chocolate in hand. (Now, I'm not sure about you - but hot chocolate in my mind is always way better than it is in real life. I always end up making it too watery or without enough milk, or too weak and I never have marshmallows. I remember my mum making it in a pot on the stove when I was little - infinitely better than mine. Maybe it's a skill you acquire with motherhood.)

I want to be cold. Not air conditioning cold, not artificially cold - real, cool air, cool wind, cold. I want to wear mittens, and have a reason to knit a scarf again. I want to wear woolly socks and sensible warm shoes (which indicates this might be a passing insanity) , and get out the warm fall jackets and gloves.

Perhaps I'm just craving home - the seasons don't seem to change here, not a smidge, only from hot, to hotter, to wet, to humid. Not exactly a dazzling array of sensations, unless you count varying degrees of sunburn and heat exhaustion. Maybe it's the anticipation of going back to school - the countdown of "how many sleeps" until I'm in school again. (Gosh.. after three years.. has it really been so long? ) Maybe it's because my mom keeps referring to getting "back to school clothes". (I remember in Britain we had to bring an empty paper milk carton with an extra pair of pants stuffed inside in the event that we peed ourselves. Then again, I also remember having to do gym in your underwear if you forgot the appropriate gym clothing. That's the English for you - simultaneously over prepared and underdressed.)

So I suppose until I'm back in Canada (it seems like forever ago that that was "home".. when did India become "home"?) I'll just sit in my over air conditioned room with my toque and my backpack on and close my eyes and pretend that I smell woodsmoke and burning leaves and that wonderful smell of warm pumpkin and candles on Halloween. Oooh fall, here I come!

But I just washed my hands! (of you.)

Mumbai is flooding. 1 metre of rain in 24 hours. And do you know why it’s flooding? Because of the British. Because the sewer and drainage system that was build 100 years ago isn’t quite up to snuff, and what with the no maintenance it’s been given, I don’t see why. Limey bastards. There’s plenty of ditches left to dig yet my friend.. And what, you’re not telling me the independent country of India should have to do it? Saints in Heaven. Deliver us.