Yoga a go go

A couple of additional points I've missed.
Coimbatore is nice. It's fairly small (only a million people), clean, friendly and easy-going. Colleges are on the rise here and the city is becoming an up-and-comer in Tamil Nadu.
We like the hotel. It's new and modern. My room is better than the one I stayed at in Vegas and the amenities are nicer. And reasonable at about $120 USD I think.
This is the lobby:



And the view from my room.



So, we got up after a night of week sleep and breakfasted.
The food was tasty- dosa and the like.

Around noon our contact arrived and inquired what we would like to do. After some chat, we decided to go to the Isha yoga center.
It was about an hour away, so back in the car and off we go.
Now, our contact described this as a yoga center that has retreats and we can have personal growth. My response to personal growth and spirituality is generally to ask who farted.
But off we go. We get there and check our shoes and such. Our guide tried in vain to get the place to end the shoe rules for us, but we were used to it and didn't care.
They showed us a video and we learned that we would get a spiritual boost by first bathing in the waters of a pool that contained a giant linga made out of solidified mercury.
Solidified mercury?
Yes, ancient Hindu alchemists made it.
Ok.
So we walk through, do our bit and then eat to the bathing place.
It's segregated boys and girls by timing and the boys are up first.
I've opted for the sprinkle instead of the dip, so I go and wash up and head into the stone grotto alone.



This image is from their web site. No cameras allowed. These steps go down maybe 150 feet. The stairs are high and slippery but the light is awesome and the silence is affecting.
I go down slowly and step into the low water. In front of me, men are slowly, silently maneuvering about in the water up to the submerged linga.



I dipped my head and hands and let it fall down my face. After a minute I slowly mounted the steps and found the girls. I have to say- might have been the stairs or anything else, but I felt pretty mellow.
I waited in happy lassitude until the ladies were done, then we entered the big linga area. I'm sure that's not the right name, but it was basically a large brick dome with a big black linga in the middle. We went in, made offerings and then sat down cross-legged to think.


I did not say mediate because this place is so turned on that you just sit down and the mediation just happens.
Mm hmm. But dang, if ten minutes into it I was really placed out and far away.
But the bell rang and dragged me out. We had to head to work.
We were all affected and enjoyed the drive home.
Then it's suit up, game on, eight hours of talking to vendors.
First work day down.


Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Coimbatore

Lost in the Half Hour

Hello sports fans. I'm back in India and somewhat bewildered.

My story begins last week when I set out to get a visa. That was an adventure on its own and not the subject of this missive. But the point is, I had to go to Houston to get it and have pretty much been on the road since. It's been a scramble to get myself ready to come here even before the travel

The trip itself (Dallas to San Francisco, to Hong Kong to Bangalore and now to Coimbatore) wasnt bad. We got stuck in a long layover in Bangalore though. 7 hours in the airport in the middle of the night. The first 3 hours we were given bad info from the security guy and spent it waiting outside. It wasnt bad, but by then we were starting to run out of steam.

But at last we caught our flight and ended up at the hotel. It's quite nice I must say. Better than some of the others we've stayed at here. I like Coimbatore as well - its more laid back and friendly than some of the other cities we've visited.

Yes, yes Steve. But what about the monkeys?

Ah! Well, we got here, met our contacts and took much-needed showers. At that point it was only about 11am on Sunday. What to do now? We went to the travel desk and arranged a trip to the local waterfall. it was a pleasant ride; we got to see some of the countryside- bamboo, lumbering and some rice paddies. The area is flat but ringed by small mountains on several sides.

We arrived at the station and waited in a long line to board a bus that would take us to the next phase. 

There were some humble food stands and vendors and that was where we saw a small troop of monkies. They were fun and sporty, even the locals were tickled. There was a lot of attention paid to us as well. People shaking our hands, inquiring where we were from and welcoming us to India.  

 So, we board the bus and take a bumpy ride up a thin road. From there we debark and walk the remaining half mile or so up to the waterfall. The scenery is pretty and there are some unsual clouds clinging to the tops of the neighboring hills. We see the waterfall, which is nice and all, but then we start hearing hooting and hollering.

Ah ha~ the natural beauty is only half the reason to come. Most of the tourists are dipping in the lower half where the stream pools up.

 We hang out and continue to provide diversion to the kids and then feel its time to walk back. On the walk back down we feel some sprinkles. Refreshing! Guess those clouds held some rain.
Hmm hmm hmm. So we get back to the pick up point and see that there is a good-sized line queued up for the buses. We fall in as the rain starts blasting us good. It's raining hard and the buses that show up arent quick in coming.
Finally, an open-backed truck pulls up and they mob it. They squished in like sardines: 9 deep and 5 wide easily on the back. Now the lines have broken down into a mob and the ranger is yelling at people to line back up. People are getting restless. Another set of buses come and go and we are closer still to the front when the truck come back.  Now the question: do we push through and get on or wait?
My sporting side says Go! How awesome would that be? But I see there are able-bodied young men in line with us that are looking at the ride with measured caution. Sit tight they say: no reason to get on that dangerous thing. No reason except awesomeness.
But I think it through and decide against it. Another bus comes and we fight our way on. There's 40 people in a bus built for 12 so thats fun too.
We get back to the parking lot and find our driver in the downpour. Suceess!
He takes us to a temple next and I wish I had snaps, But- no pictures allowed.
Why? Because awesome elephant painted with the Vishnu stripes inside the stone temple, thats why!
He was great~ you give him an offering- he takes it with his trunk and blesses you with a touch on the head. The temple was excellent too with murals on the ceiling and lots of iteresting sculptures.

Missions

n.b. click images for full-size view

I found myself in need of a mental break last weekend, so I took Friday off and drove down to San Antonio. Just as everything in the Universe is apparently moving away from everything else, so too everything in Texas is five hours away from everything else. So, I woke up late and made a day of the drive.

I had hoped to see a different, more rural side to the state, and I was a bit disappointed in that. There were some rural areas that I liked, but it was mostly all the same. I found the Outlaw Country station on Sirius and just tucked in to the ride. 

About half way I decided to find some lunch and spotted a BBQ place off the highway that had a hand-painted sign that looked like it was there in the 1950's. It was a giant, dumb cowboy so I pulled right in.

The place had walls made out of pressboard and the food you ordered was measured on scales in front of you in the serving line. The girl gave me extra jalepenos and I was pleased.

I rolled into San Antonio early evening and checked into the Emily Morgan. This is a gothic, somewhat spendy hotel in the heart of downtown. I got it because it was right next door to the Alamo. That's the Alamo in the snap above. It's a pretty busy spot as you can see. I wandered around and took the lay of the land before going back to the hotel to clean up and eat.

My idea was this: the Alamo was going to be bongo all day long. If I wanted to get photos without people I would have to go at night. 

So I got up at 4am and walked over. I realized that I had forgotten to pack my bulb release, but the thing was blasted with lights, so 30 second exposures were fine. 

Great, so over I go and set for shooting. I get into it and lose track of time. I'm bracketing to see if HDR will help out the tough lighting, plus the shots take a half minute or so apiece, so an hour or so goes by quick. 

I hear a someone shifting position behind me and although I can't see, I recognize that it is a security guard who has been watching the whole time. I greet him and we shoot the breeze for a while. He's a cool guy and likes my idea to come when there are no people. He likes the peace of the night too and that's one reason he works the late shift. Yes yes. This guy's great. Cool old latin guy in a cowboy hat. Maybe I'll ask him to stand in for some shots. 

Well some point after that I hear him talking to someone else. Apparently it was the changing of shifts.

I found that out because I was setting up a shot right in front. During the course of doing that one leg of my tripod slipped slightly off the stone and onto the grass. Just barely touching part of it.

Immediately I hear "Hey!! gittertridangalangoffinthegrass!"It's a new voice and it's early in the morning and I just don't understand. What? Angrily now he screams "AH SED: GITTCHER TRIPOD LEG OFFIN THE GRASS!!!" I consider several options but reply "Ok!"

He doesn't say anything else but is clearly agitated and doesn't sit back down. My presence there is upsetting him. What if I tried to walk on the grass? Keep in mind he was a good 50 yards away in the dark and I was just barely on the grass.

I polish up my work and wave him a good night.

I go back to the hotel, sleep a couple hours and then start getting after the other missions. First up was Mission Concepcion. This place is well-preserved. I discovered that, like most of the others, this is an active chapel as well as a historic site. There was a small area of holy ground with a Virgin Mary shrine that had very recently been used. 

With most of these you get a couple empty rooms in the fort with some informative plaques and such.
In this one we learned that the Franciscans were all about being apart from the world; poverty and asceticism and such. It said they chose to have no influence in the world.
Then without a trace irony, in the next panel we see them supervising as the subjugated indians lined up bringing them food and doing all the labor.  The monks smiled at them beatifically.

Mission San Jose was more of the same. Sprawling compound- the kind of place that tour buses drop off dozens of septuagenarians while brides take photos in front of the doors. Here you learned that not all of the Indians went so quietly. For protection they built walls and made the acculturated indians live inside them.

Mission San Juan was being rebuilt and it was really nothing to see anyway.
But I went a little further and found Mission Espada down by the aqueduct.
This place was mostly just the remains of walls around an old chapel.
It was in a neighborhood and, like the others still in use. This one wasn't much of a tourist destination though, so the  draw was really the services. These areas had signs about being sure to lock your car and the church sat maybe 60 on hard benches.
But when I went in the church I saw a (white) Franciscan monk in his robe talking to a latino family after they had done a first communion. Kids running around in fancy dresses and such. They were clearly neighborhood people and he knew them. I think they were giving him money.

I liked that the link to the past was pretty much unbroken here. I didn't love the story the history told all the time, but it was interesting to see a scene playing out that could have happened a hundred years ago.   I hopped in the mustang and got on the road.

Heat Challenge

Summers in college I was a pizza man in a shop that had a stone oven. My job was minding the oven; timing pizzas so they came out with calzones and garlic bread on time, turning them, taking them out and sending them on their way. Basically, I stuck my face and arms into an oven all night. One night as the shifts were changing my buddy Rob accidentally closed the door on my arm as I was reaching in. I was badly burned, but my shift was just starting, so I spent the night putting a blistered arm into an oven.

That was heat.

It blasts you and comes at you. Sharps needles of directional pain surrounding your arm. But you got in and got out. As long as you didnt linger in there; the heat never really got you. I suppose it's like walking across hot coals- as long as you keep moving you're fine.

Well, my Pop asked me what the heat was like here. It's been over 100° every day for over a month. It's in the 90°'s well after dark.

After work I step into the underground parking garage and it's like stepping into a furnace. The pressure of the air changes as you step in. It rushes up and surrounds you. I walk maybe 40 yards to my car and I wonder how this state was settled. How anyone survived without air conditioning.

There aren't any trees, so there isnt any shade. There isnt any breeze so there isnt any relief. You're inside or you're a mess.

I sit on my deck at night to try and acclimate myself. It's shaded, so you dont get the sun, but the heat finds you. After a while it makes your head hurt. My eyes start to feel strange and I go inside. So you live a life indoors I guess until you can take it.

But my father posed the challenge, so I thought I would see what I could do.

I started by putting a block of ice on my deck. That's it above. I thought it would be interesting to take time lapse shots as the block melted away.

That lasted for about 8 seconds.

The block immediately melted on the bottom and slide to the edge of the bar. I touched it lightly and it exploded into its component pieces and helter-skeltered around the deck.

This was around 8 in the morning.

So, I put them into a bowl and set up the camera. It took a couple rounds to get the results, but here they are below. The time lapse was set for one picture every minute. I thought an hour would be enough, but it took two. You will see the slight jump halfway where I had to reset the camera to take an additional 60 shots.

Prehistoric Pranksters

I'm realizing (after 30 straight 100° days) that if you want to do anything outside, it might be better to do it in the morning. So I got up at six and drove a couple hours to Dinosaur Valley State Park in Glen Rose. It was a fun drive and I got to see more iconic Texas things. Like big ranches with gates that have their names over them. Oh, an vultures in the middle of the road eating a raccoon.

So, I get to the park as it is opening up and take the lay of the land. Apparently, the story is: someone was putting in a new concrete sidewalk and the two jamokes pictured above, or someone matching their description, ran all across it leaving footprints.

Big footprints.
It should be easy enough to track them back to their hideout and get to the bottom of this.

Except, oh wait: it wasn't a nice flat sidewalk, it was a muddy riverbed and the trails look more like this.

At first it's like trying to pick out the dog footprints in a snowbank kids were playing in. The undulation of the mud and action of the water makes it harder to see them. But after a while walking up and down, you begin to pick them out and get a feel for the rhythm.

I got there early and had the bed to myself for a half hour or so. So I'm taking my snaps and whatnot and I hear what sounds like someone sweeping a broom behind me. I turn around and it's this guy:
A big vulture and his pal. They saw me sitting on the ground not moving for a bit and figured maybe they would sneak up and eat my carcass. The sweeping sound was his wings as one touched down. It was a little unsettling as I realized I really was alone out here in the woods. Especially because instead of immediately flying away when I turned around they just ambled along casually like they were doing something else. It wasn't until I pointed a camera at them that they went into a tree to wait for me to die from a distance.

So, it took a while to get into track spotting. At first it seemed like the one or two they had roped off could have been made by bigfoot-style pranksters with trick sneakers but as you went up the river it was interesting.

Turns out these weren't by the headlining T Rex and Brontosaur either, but less-famous also-ran dinosaurs. They aren't even really sure who. But one was a carnosaur raptor-type deal. Maybe Acrocanthosaurus. Yeah, ok. The other was a sauropod. maybe Paluxysaurus jonesi. The riverbed is the Paluxy and that sauropod was named the official dinosaur of Texas in 2009 so he seems like a good candidate, but the raptor was the hit of the riverbed in this reviewer's opinion.

The wicked toes were easy to spot and made neat slices into the rock. He was way funner than the jonesi, whose tracks looked like the work of a shoddy post hole digger.

After a couple hours of this, I had seen all I needed to and it was getting to be 95°, so I hit the bricks.

Just outside of the park was another attraction: The Creation Evidence Museum. Apparently it's dedicated to proving that human beings and dinosaurs lived together at the same time, just like in the Flintstones. I was quite interested in checking this out. But being Sunday it was closed. Ah well. I left feeling sorry for T Rex and his comically-useless arms.

Like a Honey Badger

So, I think that States have cultural identities. People from Maine are different than ones from say, Vermont. The stories I heard growing up in Maine were about loggers and fishermen. Whalers. People who did ballsy things and had to rely upon themselves. I think Mainers value independence and self-reliance. Vermonters, what were they- dairy farmers? They had to rely on each other in tough times and made a virtue of it. Now they are all hippy types.

This is, admittedly, a stretch and a gross generalization.

But as I live here more, I begin to see and accept more of the Texan culture. And I think I have uncovered a key element: they do not give a fuck.

And I mean that in a positive way. Let me tell you an little story.

I was thinking about a chum I hadn't seen in a while. We used to drink cokes with a splash of coconut rum by the pool and I got to thinking that that might be a refreshing summer beverage in this heat. So I figured I would go find a bottle and maybe some sake while I was at it. I haven't had any hard liquor since I've been here, so I had to locate a liquor store. Turns out it was in the next county. Texas blue laws are weird, but whatever, here we go.

So, I GPS the store and twenty minutes later there I am. I walk in and am confronted by a podium they have set up for a promotional tequila tasting. Yes. People are bellying up to what is, essentially A BAR IN A LIQUOR STORE doing tequila shots. They had booze on ice and shot glasses and a pretty young girl laughing behind the bar.

Part of me was agog. Isn't his dangerous? Isn't it illegal? What about the children? Okay, I didn't think that last one, but I was still pretty surprised. So I do my shopping and proceed to the checkout. The bartender girl is now working behind the counter and she rings me up. She sees the bottle of Malibu and holds it up with two fingers like she had discovered something distasteful.

"Do you know about Malibu Black?" she asks.

"Ah. no."

"Well" she says "It's 70 proof...you can put it in the freezer". I tell her I think I'm all set with the regular kind. I just want a splash. But she proceeds.

"It's 70 proof. More alcohol. Same great taste. 70 proof? More alcohol?" As she says this arches her eyebrows in a manner that expresses that she has a strong opinion about my decision to stick with the regular stuff. This gentleman is a pussy is what her expression says. But I don't want the booze, plus by now I don't want to be talked into it so I stick to my guns. Reluctantly, she drags the bottle across the scanner like a transaction of such wimpiness had somehow cheapened her by proxy.

About this time, two of her co-workers come over. A smaller girl with ferret-like teeth and a lumpy guy. Ferret teeth whispers something in Tequila Bartender's ear, barely able to suppress her squealing laughter. Turns out Lumpy Guy had made a pair of numchucks out of cardboard and Ferret Teeth wanted to let her friend know right away. I am not making this up. They were in his back pocket.

So my checkout girl scolds her jokingly, telling her that this is a place of business and no place to be making or discussing ninja weapons. She looks at me and explains how difficult it is to work with these people. Ferret Teeth will not let this slur stand and begins to convince me that it is really Tequila Girl who is the handful to deal with at work.

"Oh, I believe it" I tell Ferret Teeth "She seems like a real pistol."

At this point Tequila Girl gets a reflective, faraway dreamy look in her eyes and tells me that she is not a pistol, but in fact she carries one with her. Now what caliber was that? A .40 or a .44? She's not sure. No wait, wait, now I remember: it's a .40 caliber. Yes. She loves that gun.

In a five minute errand we went from impromptu tequila bars, to implications of sissy drinking, a brief stop by cardboard numchucks and into the caliber of a young girl's handgun all with a sense of reckless glee.

And I began to understand that Texas doesn't give a damn what you think.

I got into my shiny new muscle car and sped off laughing.

Va-voom and Varoom

So, as many of you know, I bought a new car.

It's a 2012 Mustang V6. I got the leather and premium interior package. I had been thinking along these lines since I rented one at the end of last year.

It's my first non-used car and it's a damn joy to ride.

The process also represents the last tangible connection to my Portland days. I finally got a new driver's license. I had held onto my Maine one the whole time I was in Mass. Partially that was due to sentiment, but realistically, I was a traveling devil most of that time. It was dang hard to get a day clear to go run errands to the DMV. Or maybe that's just a convenient excuse.

But now I'm all legal and Texas-y and have road trip fever. I want to haul ass all over this state.

But first several notes on the car-buying experience.

It was very Texas. I heard stories about illegals trying to buy cars and being arrested by the FBI right out of the dealership (the poor woman had bought a social security number connected to the wife of a drug kingpin). I heard stories about the "big celebrities" that came in all the time. Mostly it was football players like Too Tall Jones, who I would have liked to see, but the rest were all like some guy who was in the original Longest Yard. "He's just like he was in the movie!" Oh really? Ho Hum.

Here's a typical moment. The service guy is explaining how the customer survey I'm going to get works. He's trying to explain that there is a big difference between a 5 and 4 and basically I shouldn't hold onto my 5's too tightly. A 5 counts as 100, a 4 is 50. In the course of this he says "Now, we ain't trying to say we're perfect or anything. There was only one man that was perfect and they went and crucified him!" Yes, we aren't Jesus, but please give us a 5 on our survey.

My salesperson was 62. He looked like Sam Elliot's uncle. He was a good guy and I liked that he also did what I think of as Texas things. For example, we were walking across the dealership. He was in mid-sentence and stopped abruptly, putting out a hand to stop me as well. What brought the non-stop sales patter to a dead stop? The sight of a marginally-attractive woman walking across the grounds. We both took a minute to watch her pass and then got back to business. He whistled tunelessly. Oh, Texas.

Anyhoo. So what color is my car?

Black, right? Ah, not quite. It is a fancy new color called Lava Red. It looks black until the light hits it. Then you see there are li'l sparklies. Like these:

The result is that in the sun, the car is actually a dark dark maroon-red.

Like lava or something. Well, maybe not, but I do think it's kind of fancy.

I have more dumb car things to tell you, but I need to go buy one of those windshield cover doobies because it's murder hot out here. Va voom!