To quickly explain, the 7 links award is passed on from person to person and is really a good way for me to take a good look at my blog and see what has worked, what has not. What I like, what others like and how I can possibly improve on my writing and posting. An award, but also a good way for me to evaluate my own work. Quite a fun lesson in learning really. Seven questions and pass it on. I like it. Some of the questions were  a bit hard to answer, for me at least, but I tried my best.

     Ok, so I’ll try to let my answers do most of the work (unlike I do when hired for a position in, say, Mali or around). If you agree, disagree, hate me or love me, let me know:

1) My Most Beautiful Post

          For me, I think I would have to pick “Chasing the Sun“ - Color, exotic locations, setting suns, rising
     suns, silhouettes, desert, mountains, forest, trees, temples, water, people. It encompasses a lot. Each
     picture by itself may not be so beautiful, but taken as a whole, for me at least, looking back, I can’t believe
     how lucky I am to actually see the rising and setting sun in all of these places. Beauty is in the eye of the
     beholder, and I don’t think there is anything more beautiful than the colors nature provides.

2) My Most Popular Post

          Without question my most popular post is “Turban“, out of Ranakpur, India. This post, no doubt, gave me
     a little bit of encouragement for blogging and basically vaulted my blog into the “blogosphere”. Posted on the
     third day of my blogging life, it was freshly pressed, gathered 98 “likes” and 93 comments, along with over
     9000 views …in the first week of my blog. If that’s not lucky, I’m not sure what is. When I started the blog I
     figured that I would be good with 30 views a day for a while, striving for 10,000 in the first year. At my second
     week I already exceeded that. I gotta tell ya’ …it has kept me bloggin’ ever since, and has really pushed me
     to comment and “like” other posts I read because I know how good it feels to receive the attention and can
     only imagine what it feels like to write an article, or post a picture, and not have anyone notice it. So my boy
     at the carpet shop in Ranakpur National Park it is. He looks mad, but was a great guy, with a great turban.
     A master wrapper.

3) My Most Controversial Post

           For this, I’m going to have to bow out and take a minus. I actually only have one post that has a
      comment that could be even remotely considered controversial but I don’t want to point it out because it will
      lead right to the person who posted the comment, and that is not right. I’ll tell you what though, I have
      posted the pics, and linked to the story, of my “Among the Dead” post on another, photography, site, and
      did have a few controversial comments, so I guess, overall including the whole net, Among the Dead is my
      most controversial.

          …and honestly, I stay away from all the controversy and drama that goes on over the internet. It’s the
      internet, and that’s not what I’m here for. …and I think this is one of my better posts too A few pics
      below from “Among the Dead” but many more in the actual post:

4) My Most Helpful Post

          Another tough one, as I don’t really think too many of my posts are genuinely “helpful”, but I have had a
   lot of questions about money in Myanmar, as posted in “Travels through Myanmar III – Money Matters” …and
   again, I can’t stress this point enough to anyone going to Myanmar. Brand spanking no creases no marks no
   folds no tears no dirt crisp edge bills only. It’s insane. …and take that bit of advice Bama, if nothing else !!!

          Another post that seems to really help a lot of people, or I should say, a post that brings out the most
     questions, is my “Traveling Light” post. Specifically my mention of the Redwing 2650 pack I use. I have
     gotten so many questions about this pack that you wouldn’t believe it, as well as view after view, day after
     day, from google searches (I’m talking an average of ten a day at least for the past few months) …and yes,
     it DOES work great as a carry-on. You can see a few of the questions in my “Questions Answered” post
     but I will be doing a full review of the pack soon …so a long story short: My most helpful post is a post that
     hasn’t been posted yet – The Kelty Redwing 2650 Review. I can already see that now. How’s that for a
     messed up answer

5) A Surprisingly Successful Post

          I can’t really pick one. In my mind, just about every post I publish is more successful than I would even
      think it could be, sooo, I’ll point you to my “Index“. I’m surprised every time I get a comment…

         …I don’t know, maybe the ”Bucket List” is my most surprisingly successful. Never knew these things
      were so popular (Bucket Lists), and lets face it, if you actually read the article I wrote, I wasn’t too thrilled
      about them anyway, but they have definitely grown on me and I quite like looking at other people’s now.

6) My Most Under-Rated Post

        Hmmm. I would have to say “Everything OK“. This is one of my all-time favorite pictures that I have ever
    taken. Now, it means more to me because I was actually there and it brings back some great memories, so I
    understand, and honestly, I can’t really say I have an “under-rated” post, but I would pick this one. I love this
    girl, out on a boat fishing on Tonle-Sap, helping her family survive, smiling, working. Everything OK.

          …and there are about five versions of this picture boppin’ around the internet so maybe a lot of people
    don’t like the dark version, so here’s a lighter one:

7) The Post I Am Most Proud Of

          C’mon …I can’t answer that. I’m most proud of every post containing every picture and every story I ever
      took or wrote because I suck at taking pictures and writing so just finishing a post makes me proud most of
      the time. But, I know, another cop out answer, so, I would have to say from a travel/posting point of view it
      would have to be “Jambiya Sellers of Sana’a“. I gotta tell you, I get more “Whaaaat’s?” and “You are
      Crazy’s” when I tell people I have been to Yemen than most countries I’ve been too …except for maybe
      Nigeria. I was even made fun of for a time (and I’m talking seriously) by a guy because I went there …the
      guy hasn’t left the USA yet either, so jokes on him.

          I’ve been to Afghanistan, Sudan, Syria, Myanmar, Burkina Faso, Nigeria and many more, but Yemen
      seems to be the place where absolutely no one goes, except for a very very crazy few. I went, I lived, I met
      some great people and I saw some places that haven’t changed in centuries. I brought one of those
      jambiyas in one of the pictures home and I still get massive “travel-cred” from even the most hard-core
      travellers for going there …and looking back, the place was utterly insane, in a “controlled chaos” sort of
      way. A man isn’t a man without a big, long, sharp, curved knife in his belt, and just about everyone carried
      an AK over their shoulders. I could go into the gun souk and pick out whatever I wanted. Slightly used AK’s,
      RPG’s, land-mines. It was …different.

          But in the end, people are people, and the people there are nicer than most. I still put them as the
      second nicest people I have ever met (by country). Just people with a lot of weapons. I think what makes
      me so proud of my time in Yemen is that I now know what most don’t. Weapons don’t make the man. The
      man chooses what he is going to do with the weapon, and just because you have one doesn’t make you a
      bad person. Actually, it was just about the opposite. Great, nice, kind, gentle people, who liked to carry
      weapons. That’s it.

     …and now, for the “Pass it Along” nominees. Three sites I have been regularly following for months now, although they probably don’t realize it. Three great blogs worth a look and definitely worthy of the 7 Links Award. I would love to see each of your answers, but don’t feel you have to answer the 7 questions. It’s all in fun, the award is for you to keep, share, hide or deny!!!:

     1) I have to nominate: Love versus Goliath - when I started reading this blog, Love was separated. Half in Australia, half plus children halfway across the world, with a government standing in-between them. The blog was basically a memoir of the trials and tribulations of trying to re-unite. You would think it would be quite easy. They’re married. Take a flight over and start your life together. Unfortunately in this day and age …it’s not so easy. It’s quite an interesting story filled with emotion, horror stories and in the end, a happy ending. Now life starts anew and together. The blog now is in the stages of a “new beginning” of the sorts, now turning into a “what happens” after the happy ending. Take a look, its original, its interesting, its a story of life and family unfolding as it happens. It could be a movie. Maybe it will be one day. …and I’m hoping this paragraph can even come close to summing up Love versus Goliath, but honestly, it can’t, so click over and see. One of the most original blogs I have ever seen, as well as stories.

     2) For my second nominee: What an Amazing World! - Bama really has a true amazing desire to travel. I can tell it through his posts, his comments, his questions, our back and forth talk. It’s refreshing to see someone who has such a passion for travel and it’s quite amazing that even though we (Bama and myself) are just about as far as we possibly could be from each other on earth, we share a common bond and are able to connect through our pictures, blogs and passion. He has some great stories and pictures on his blog, take a look!!!

     3) A drifter off to see the world - I couldn’t have named it better myself. Perfect. TBT (The Black Twig) sets about drifting the world and documenting her travels, trials and tribulations through some very well-written, insightful and inner-feeling/emotion type articles filled with some great pictures. Every time I click over there is always something new and interesting. Her site is always changing, evolving and getting better and better. Highly recommended.

     Day 7 …no shower. Ouch. It’s not so bad, its a dry heat. Yeah, right, a dry, searing, heat in a part of the world that hasn’t seen a drop of rain in almost eighteen months, resulting in a dry searing heat albeit with some cloud cover caused by the foot of bull-dust stirred up every time you take a step or drive an inch. If your into the dust/dirt ball grunge kind of look though, it’s kind of cool. You need some shade, just do a little dance. No problem, a cloud of dust to block out the sun like a canvas unbrella.

     It’s an end to another long day of driving. It’s been utterly desolate the past two days since we left The Nile, the town of Wawa, and The Temple of Soleb. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. Not a person in sight, a small tree or bush here and there, a burned out truck by the side of the road, an occasional camel crossing our tracks here and there. We’re getting closer to Khartoum now, and we’re now right in the heart of the Sahara. Desolate, dry, hot, yet absolutely stunningly beautiful. Depending on how you look at it, this could be the edge of heaven, the middle of hell, or anywhere or anyplace your dreams or nightmares could possibly conjure up. Once again the sun is setting, the temperature quickly falling, the desert changing colors quicker than I can snap pictures. Simply spectacular.

     We pull, well, over. No need to look for a spot to camp here. It’s like trying to pick a perfect spot out of an area where every spot is perfect, again. I guess tough decisions follow you everywhere… A few camels around, foraging on even fewer sun baked bushes trying to eak out a living in this environment. The sand is fine, drifting with the wind, snaking along the ground in endless ridges, moving like water in a calm open ocean.

     Not a sound except for what we provide, along with the ewwwing of a few camels which seem to be coming towards us. As the camels come closer I have to ask myself why it looks like these are six-legged camels. I take a second look, maybe the heats getting to me, I gotta lay down. No, I’m right, six legs. Maybe this is the edge of heaven, or hell, but I can’t really imagine any kind of camels in hell, they’re gods animals. They spend enough time in hell on earth. I look down, yep, my legs are still there, two arms, check, I look around, no bullet holes, I’m good, the truck isn’t on fire and everyone else seems to be fine, no new holes in my head, don’t think I’m dead yet. I take another look, yeah, six legs, but wait a minute, I see an extra head peek around a camel neck …there’s people with those camels. That explains it, got scared for a second there.

     I take a seat and watch as three camels and three men, dressed all in a dirty brownish white, the men that is, not the camels, the camels were much cleaner, part from each other and materialize into their separate entities. They come closer, they’re all smiling, the men and the camels. The men wave not saying anything, the camels ewww, not waving. These guys look, tough, for lack of better wording. I yell an “As-Salamu Alaykum” and wave with a smile, the men give me an “Aeikum-Salam” back, with smiles full of brown and/or missing teeth. Good, hearty, hard working man in a hard life, but without a care in the world type of smiles. I liked them all instantly, men and camels.

     I have to smile to myself. Even now looking back, one of those moments. I may as well be an alien from another planet, so far removed from the lifestyle of these men that it’s hard to even imagine. A chance encounter that you couldn’t come close to planning and will always look back on as “one of those moments”.

     The men come over and shake hands with heads bowing, I stand, shake and also bow. These guys are serious. Where did they come from? I’d like to see those camels in the Kentucky Derby. If they don’t win they would probably just eat the other horses at the finish line. These guys are big (the camels that is). I can’t resist. I invite the men over to our truck which is right over the dune behind us and, at this point, still out of sight. I wave the men along, they follow and crest the dune, I point their line of sight towards the truck, and I’ll tell you right now, you have never seen anyone’s eyes pop so wide open.

     The men rush down the other side of the dune, the camels aren’t so daring. Right up to the truck, they touch the orange giant and start to happily go into a tailspin of excited talk between each other. I’m not so sure these guys have ever seen a truck before. The “leader” spins around towards me (he is the one with the red cup in the picture below), he points, says …something, smiles and touches the truck again. My Lord, these are nomads. These guys are just wandering around the desert, everything they own on their camels. Tuareg maybe, but not sure. How do they survive out here? Eat your heart out Bear Grylls, you have nothin’ on these guys. The “leader” touches the truck again, than touches his camel, than points back and forth. Oh my Lord, he wants to trade the camels for the truck. I have to let him down easy, shaking my head no. He smiles, I smile. I show him him the mirror, he lets out a yell. Ian starts the engine, the men jump back in wonder, the camels let out a big “EWWWWW” and keep eating a bush. Not impressed whatsoever. They know who is king out here, and they act evey bit the indignant part.

     Eventually everyone calms down. The men take a seat, yet don’t trust the chairs we give them, so two sit on the ground (smart guys). We offer tea, bread, a bit of honey and butter. The men are grateful for it. The camels start to nibble at the truck tires. One takes an opportunity to show what he thinks of this big metal bucket of breaking down desert rubbish, lifting his leg to let out a shower of pee. As the light fades away we go back and forth with the men. They are nothing but impressive. We end up shaking hands, they take another walk around the truck, take an extra low bow, and fade into the night with their camels with some extra bread and full skins of water.

     About 30 minutes total. A chance meeting in one of the harshest environments of the world with a few men who live here with no running water, no houses, nothing but their camels and a few belongings the camels can carry. We laughed with the men, we shared bread. The leader was married, his boy was a few hundred yards off with another camel, they wandered the desert for a living, they were very happy. They didn’t speak a lick of english and no one in our group spoke a lick of whatever language they were speaking, but the communication flowed. Language did not matter. They smiled, we smiled, and the rest came naturally. Even to this day I’m not sure how I found out so much about them without any kind of verbal similarity. I just don’t remember. It didn’t matter. I remember their smiles though, their demeanor, their movements. It’s kind of amazing really. Maybe language is just something to fall back on when all else fails. Still nothing like a good smile.

     …and that is it, that is why I travel. A chance meeting with a disappearing people. A few short words written for a short meeting with a few men, and some really big camels. If I met no one else in Sudan I would be, well, probably dissapointed, but looking back, this was the meeting of a lifetime. A few smiles from a people that most will never meet and, as a whole, could possibly be gone in the next few years. A few smiles, a few words, an exchange of lives and maybe just a bit of understanding of what it is truly like to a nomad. For me, it’s priceless. Worth the price I paid for the trip and all the hardships endured. I love it. I hope they keep wandering, keep smiling, keep that sense of freedom they have. I think though, and feel, deep down, they will always be there. The Sahara is more than any technology can tame. Camels, they can go further than any truck without maintenance or a gas station to fill up. I still smile. The iPad will never win, at least not with guys and camels like these still around.

…to be continued.
Next Edition: Travels through Sudan IX – Meroe

• • • • • General • • • • •

How will you know if you’re in the right place and the right time?
     This one sounds like some kind of Ancient Chinese Proverb, so my best answer would be: If you’re not at
     the wrong place at the wrong time, don’t worry about it, your good.

What did pirates call bananas?
     Could be a trick question. My best answer would be: Probably Bananas, unless they got them confused
     with plantains, at which point they called them plantains, unless they had no idea what bananas or plantains
     were, at which point they would call them fruit or just food, all depending on where in the world the pirates
     were from.

Why buy something if you don’t need it?
     1) To keep up with Jones’s
     2) Because you like owning crap
     3) Because you don’t care about the environment and/or you don’t know how lucky you are and/or you aren’t
         smart enough to realize that there are better things you could do with the money
     4) Peer pressure (see 1)

What was the cloud cover for February 27, 2011?
     1) Another trick question …and way to long an answer to put here. I would do a search on the weather
         channel site or such.

Child molesters why do they become like that?
     I think this one would be best answered by a professional, because I truly don’t know.

I need a light computer when travelling, what should I get?
     I really don’t know, but I would get a laptop. A small and light one.

What is war good for?
     Absolutely nothing!!! Ha, good-god y’all.

It’s 5:00 pm, what time will it be 99,999,999 hours from now?
    Simple math, think about it. Start dividing the 9 number by 24 (number of hours in a day).
    PS: did you mean 999,999,999? …like the song kind of thing.

Why do children in third world countries appear so happy?
     Because they are. Something that can’t be explained. Go and see for yourself. You’ll understand.

What makes a focal point so strong?
     For me, with respect to portrait or people photography, what makes a strong focal point is an emotional
     connection between the photo and the viewer without any explanation from the photographer. A focal
     point which someone can instantly connect too and one where the viewers eyes are automatically drawn
     too …without a word of explanation, written or verbal, from the photographer. In one word: Emotion.

How do you make people smile in a photo?
     Communication. Don’t just run in, snap and run out. You have to communicate, instill an emotion, than
     catch that moment. A longer explanation here.

• • • • • Africa • • • • •

How is life living in Sudan?
     I’ve never actually lived in Sudan, but from what I have seen: It friggin sucks, given the overall conditions,
     yet I’m quite sure there are many people there who are very happy, if not with the conditions, at least with
     the way they are living their lives. For the most part though: It sucks. Go take a look – the more who do,
     the better it will probably get for the people there.

Why doesn’t Africa have air conditioning?
     Yes, I swear, I’ve heard it… Actually, there is plenty of air conditioning in Africa, and all over Africa. I think
     there is less than most other continents because of the monetary situation in Africa. When people have
     very very little money and they can barely survive, air-conditioning gets put real low on a list of priorities
     where things like food, water and survival take prevalence. Add to the fact that many people in Africa don’t
     even have electricity in places and this only compounds the problem, due to the fact that a generator and
     fuel make air-conditioning even harder to obtain. Believe me though, there is air-conditioning in many places.

What type of spoons did the Tuareg’s use?
     In general Tuareg’s don’t use spoons, or many utensils, due to the fact that customs in the area where the
     Tuareg live encompass the eating of most meals from a communal dish with the right hand. Now, I’m sure
     there are, on occasion, times where they do use spoons, so for those occasions: Tuareg spoons have,
     historically, used spoons made out of wood, or the sides of a calabash, but in recent times a few have been
     known to use steel spoons but, the Tuareg are mostly nomadic and when steel spoons break or are lost it is
     hard to replace them so these Tuareg might resume using “calabash” spoons which are easy to make, free,
     light and much easier to replace, not to mention readily available. Hope that helps.

When does the sun set in the Sahara?
     Another one that would take way to long to fully answer here, so my answer is: right after it is right above
     the horizon when it is on its downward slope during the afternoon going into evening …and this answer can
     be used for anywhere in the Sahara at any time of year to get a correct approximation of when the sun sets.

Is there sleeping rooms on Wadi Halfa ferry?
     Yes, there are around 12 or 16 (I can’t remember the exact number). I was in one actually. A nice port-hole
     type window, a double bunk-type bed provided with a nice, if a little smelly, wool, or camel-hair but possibly
     goat hair blanket, a non-locking metal door, and a working, bare, light-bulb. You’re also surrounded by a nice
     chorus of scratching metal during the night thanks to the multitude of rats living on the ship. Nighty-night.
     In all honesty, they were alright, and we weren’t attacked by rats like the stories I heard from people who
     took the ferry before I did, but next time, I think I’m going open air on the top deck. Better air up there.

How to say hello in Sudanese?
     Asalam-aleikum - even the southern tribes will react friendly to this, no worries. Great people.

• • • • • Kelty Redwing 2650 (New Version: Redwing 44) • • • • •

What is the difference between Kelty Redwing 2650 or 44?
     Difference …the 44 is a newer version – don’t worry, the differences are negligible. Get the 44, it’s just a
     newer Redwing 2650 version.

Can you carry on airplane Kelty Redwing 44 backpack? Can you carry on Kelty Redwing 2650? Kelty Redwing 44, does fit in carry on?
     Yes, yes, yes …I’ve used the Redwing for over a decade and it fits in every plane I ever took as a carry-on
     without any questioning or “flack” from the actual airline checkers, ticket takers, ticket checkers, bag
     checkers, stewards, stewardesses, FAA, pilots, lunch-carters, other passengers, crying babies, screaming
     kids, etc, etc. It can be used as a carry-on. I haven’t checked every airline but I have personally checked
     (as in tried on airlines, not checked the bag …I never check any bags) and carried-on many airlines
     including: Thai, Jet, Jet Blue, American Airways, Southwest, Air Italia, Yemenia, Cathay, United, Delta,
     Oman Air, Dragon Air, Bangkok Air, Yangon Air, Indian Airways, Ethiopian Air, British Airways, Lufthansa,
     Air Asia, Malaysian Air, Ariana (make sure the doors are closed), Emirates, etc, etc. Believe me, it fits.

Does the Kelty Redwing 2650 have a laptop?
     …ummm, no, the Redwing does not come with a laptop. You can provide one yourself though, just about
     any laptop would fit.

Can I take the Kelty Redwing 2650 to Southeast Asia?
     I do believe that the laws in SE Asia DO allow you to carry the Redwing into the area. Now, I’m no lawyer,
     so I may be wrong, but I have used it all over SE Asia in multiple countries and was never stopped.
     The non-smart-ass answer, yes, the 2650 is perfect for SE Asia. Not to big, not to small.

Why do I use the Kelty Redwing 44 for travel?
     For me, it’s perfect. Not to big, not to small, super tough, reliable, carry-on size, easily collapsible if not full,
     comfortable, light, and enough pockets and little doo-dads for good organization but not so many it just
     becomes annoying. 

• • • • • Country/City Specific • • • • •     

What country is Mingalaba Myanmar?
     Another trick question me thinks. There actually is no country that exists that is called “Mingalaba
     Myanmar”, but there is a country called Myanmar, which used to be called Burma. “MIngalaba” is actually
     a greeting in Burmese that means “hello”. So in Myanmar you say Mingalaba!!!

 How to buy authentic jambiya knife?
     Well hell, that’s easy. Go to Sana’a and buy one. There are shops everywhere. If you haven’t been, or don’t
     ever plan to go to Yemen, well than you probably don’t have any good reason to own a long, curved, sharp
     knife anyway …unless your really into kitchen knives. On that note: I have two, how much you willing to
     spend?

How do you pronounce Sana’a?
     Sana’a. “Sa” as in the first syllable in Sapa or saga (like “Sah”) and “na’a” as in naga (like “nah”). The
     vowels are soft and drop the last “a”. ”Sah-nah”.

What is the position of Kathmandu in the world?
     Google it. It’s at 4430 feet of elevation, in the Himalayas, in a landlocked country, above India in Asia.
     Not much more I can say without googling it.

Bagan-Pagan. Why did the name change?
     I think thats been a continuing government “thing” in Burma/Myanmar. They like changing names from older
     to newer back to older, such as Yangon/Rangoon. Honestly, I don’t know specifics.

 Why was Pagan called the enemy crusher?
     Big army, huge empire, crushed any enemy it came against. It was never really called that, but the
     actual name of Pagan/Bagan is Arimaddanapura or Arimaddana, which I believe became “enemy
     crusher” when it was interpreted into English because it sounded good.

 Why trees are alien looking at yemen?
     I don’t know, I’ve never seen an alien tree. Non-smartass answer: Your probably talking about the Dragon
     tree in southern Yemen that is particularly weird-looking on the island of Socotra. Close to the equator,
     very little rain – the leaves of the tree evolved to be dense and have as little square area as possible which
     has a two-fold purpose: shade the trees roots from the sun and give off as little water as possible through
     the leaves. These trees also occur in Somalia, Eritrea and Ethiopia.

How to carry your money in Burma without creasing it?
     I’ll tell you right now, it’s virtually impossible. What I did was put it in an envelope, put that envelope in
     another envelope, than put that packet in a cargo pocket that was big enough to hold it without creasing.
     My best advice would be to bring enough cash so that some can get creased and it won’t matter.
     Good luck.

Why is Delhi called City of Djinns?
     That’s an answer that spans quite a few centuries. I would start here, it answers your question quite well.

     Another one of those “I never knew it existed but now that I do I’m glad no one else does” kind of places. After an almost six-month drive from Istanbul, down trough the Sahara, than across the Sahara, than partially back up through the Sahara, Niokolo-Koba was basically our last stop before we ended our trip in Dakar.

     What an ending too, with fields full of animals, sunsets blazing with color, and a camping site up on the banks of the Gambia River. We would watch the monkeys play in the morning, watch hippos and search for lions in the afternoon, and than come down to a viewing hut in the afternoon to watch a virtual Garden of Eden type setting of animals under the setting sun. Perfect.

March 20, 2008

     Just look up, it’s all around.

             September 7, 2009

     Half awake, lookin’ for momma, outta milk, hungry and wanting some cereal…

     This little girl would wander into the compound of our hotel just about every morning around eight. Her mother was our cook during our stay at Chez Monique in Abomey, Benin. This little one wanted breakfast, and didn’t care where she had to find mom to get it. By the third day we would have a bowl of cereal waiting for her, as her mother did the big inhale, and all the other workers laughed and slapped their thighs. This girl wasn’t shy. She was hungry… 

              February 7, 2008

     I met Hank every morning down on the steps of the ghats that surround the sacred lake of Pushkar. He was a quiet fellow. Contemplative, laid back, gentle, almost rotund in a beer belly kind of way. You could tell he was smart, maybe not in his speech, but more in the way he studied things. You could see it in his eyes, his movements, and his overall demeanor. He didn’t get into all the chatter of his fellow ghat hanger-outers, almost like it was beneath him, knowing there were more important things in life. He had better ways to spend his time. Comtemplating life on the holy lake, trying to understand the theory of flight, just watching the people coming and going around the lake.

     I would meet him on the steps every morning about 9:00 AM. He was always the first to arrive. I would sit there right next to him at arm’s length, always sure to bring enough naan and sauce for the both of us, not wanting to interfere or get in his personal space, yet close enough so we could share the naan without having to stretch. Hank would give me a nod, acknowledging my arrival, looking neither happy nor surprised, always turning his head back to whatever he was studying within a second or two. He didn’t say much, but he was very aware. Sort of like a monk or holy guru who didn’t want to offend, but was too busy studying the ways of the world to grant you much time during the initial few minutes of meeting in the morning, not wanting to waste time just waiting for you, but wanting to finish before actually getting involved in another activity.

     I would sit watching Hank for a few minutes waiting for him to complete his morning contemplations before breaking out the still warm naan. It never took him long when I arrived. I’m still not sure if I was just more of a disturbance than anything else, but Hank never complained or told me to get away, always giving me his full attention within minutes of my arrival. I would break the naan in half, handing Hank pieces that were well-slathered in his favorite sweet chili sauce. He always took them from my hand with a gentle and gracious head nod, his movements almost seeming to be practice like, slow and deliberate. He would always hold the naan in both hands in his lap before taking a bite, looking up, maybe saying a prayer of thanks for the morning meal, I’m not sure, I never did find out what Hank’s actual religion was.

     We would go through this morning ritual for about ten, sometimes fifteen, minutes. Break, bite, hand over, look around, chew, look around, break, and so on. It was quite a relaxing time. The white marble cool to the touch, the holy lake before us, the city of Pushkar swirling behind. Every once in a while Hank would take the few steps to the lake to wash his hands and take a sip of the holy river, never spending more time than needed off his step, always right back to his same spot. Hank would never ask for more naan, he would only take what was offered, never complaining and always with a nod of the head. Hank was proud.

     It was one of my more memorable and quiet times in Pushkar, and even though Hank didn’t talk much, he conveyed a lot through his demeanor, movements and head nods. I talked about India with him and travel in general. I told him I was probably just as confused as him, if not more, on the ways of humanity and Indians in general. We talked a bit about money. The money people spend to go on these safaris they take. Thousands of thousands of dollars to be packed into a little jeep to get just a glimpse of the wildlife about. Hank looked at me with a surprised, maybe questioning glance. I told him they didn’t know. I would rather sit on the cool steps here, free of charge, unbothered, eating naan, watching the birds and sky.

     Eventually Hank let me take some pictures, or well, I took some pictures while he was watching the flocks of birds sailing through the air above. It was almost like he wished he could be one of them, flying through the air, free from the humanity, going where ever you wanted to go. He looked kind of sad in this moment, if not understanding. He was a good guy. Hank was a dreamer just like all of us. I gave him some extra sauce on the last morning, he nodded his head extra low.

     If you’re ever there, look him up. I’m sure he’ll still be sitting a few steps up from the lake. Bring some sweet chili sauce and naan.

Eyes without a Face…I think that was a Billy Idol song. Wonder if he spent any time in Nepal.

     Anyway, feelin’ Nepal today. This one is the top of the Boudhnath Stupa in Kathmandu. If you feel like your being watched in Nepal …just look up, because you probably are. I really didn’t get out of the Kathmandu Valley much when I was there (I HAVE to go back), but my god. I have no regrets. What a city, valley and culture.

     Off the beaten path and well out-of-the-way of the tourist trail, the back streets of Old Varanasi are a maze of catacomb-like alleyways. I would highly recommend walking them as much as possible. There are sights back here that would be hard to find anywhere else, including museums. From thousand plus year old statues and architecture to people just living out their lives.

     You enter what looks like tunnel only to come out into a thin strip of lighted roadway, paved with ancient cobblestones, only to have to side-step a cow, look up to see an ancient statue over the archway of a newly appointed guesthouse, people working and washing in the street. A maze of wires above, turn the corner and there are none, turn another only to run into a temple, round another for another amazing view. It all sounds quite quaint and normal here, on the internet, but its anything but, almost anywhere else in the world but here that is. If you’re there, don’t miss the chance to walk these streets, it’s well worth the effort, the heat, the smell and everything else you can’t experience in a picture.

             August 8, 2009

     Another shot that goes well with my recently posted story on Varanasi. A shot of what I think has to be one of the worst jobs in the world, or at least that I have witnessed. The guys in the water, well, they’re panning for gold. No, that’s not bad really, until you realize they are in the Ganges, at the Manikarnika Ghat, and the fire in the foreground is not just a fire, it’s a funeral pyre. The Manikarnika Ghat is a cremation ghat along the Ganges River. There is a body in there. OK, so they’re panning for gold in front of a burning body, no biggie, right? Wrong. They are panning through the ashes of the dead and burned looking for any gold or precious stones or metals that may have gotten through. Gold teeth, jewelry, hair pins, etc, etc. They are panning peoples ashes. What makes it worst is that the occasional body part makes it through the fire, which they just toss further into the river, yikes.

     It’s a holy river, it’s a revered site, it’s considered very lucky to die and be burned here. I’m not arguing that, and I do have to say that it is fascinating (to me at least) but man, I wouldn’t want that job, no way. It’s a different world though, and I’m sure I would be happy just to have a job if I lived there as well.

            August 8, 2009