Here are more quotes from this amazing book.
SHANTARAM: Chapter 13-18
*Happiness is a myth. It was invented to make us buy things.
*Some women cry easily. The tears fall as gently as fragrant raindrops in a sun-shower, and leave the face clear and clean and almost radiant. Other women cry hard, and all the loveliness in them collapses in the agony of it. She was such a woman. There was terrible anguish written in the rivulets of those tears and the torments that creased her face.
*We are like a debating society here, you see. We meet every month, at least one time, and when our business and private matters are finished, we talk about philosophical subjects and the suchlike. It’s our amusement.
*Why do people suffer? Why do bad people suffer so little? And why do good people suffer so much?
*I think that suffering is a matter of choice. I think that we do not have to suffer anything in this life, if we are strong enough to deny it. The strong man can master his feelings so completely that it is almost impossible to make him suffer. When we do suffer things, like pain and so, it means that we have lost control. So I will say that suffering is a human weakness.
*Is it not also true that some of our strength comes from suffering? That suffering hardships makes us stronger? That those of us who have never known a real hardship, and true suffering, cannot have the same strength as others, who have suffered much? And if that is true, does that not mean that your argument is the same thing as saying that we have to be weak to suffer, and we have to suffer to be strong, so we have to be weak to be strong?
*I think it is to do with growing up and becoming adults; learning to control our suffering. I think that when we grow up, and learn that happiness is rare, and passes quickly, we become disillusioned and hurt. And how much we suffer is a mark of how much we have been hurt by this realization. Suffering, you see, is a kind of anger. We rage against the unfairness, the injustice of our sad and sorry lot. And this boiling resentment, you see, this anger, is what we call suffering.
*I know that suffering is the truth. I know that suffering is the sharp end of the whip, and not suffering is the blunt end—the end that the master holds in his hand. People are born to suffer; and it never stops. Not for a second. Suffering comes from the same place where love and freedom and pride are born. And it’s the same place where those feelings and ideals die. The suffering never stops. We only pretend it does. We only tell ourselves it does, to make the kids stop whimpering in their sleep.
*Happiness is a really thing, a truly thing, but it is what makes us crazy people. Happiness is a so strange power thing that it makes us to be sick, like a germ sort of thing. And suffering is what cures us of it, the too much happiness. The burden of happiness can only be relieved by the balm of suffering. Without the suffering, the happiness would squash us down.
*I think that suffering is the way we test our love. Every act of suffering, no matter how small or agonizingly great, is a test of love in some way. Most of the time, suffering is a test of our love for God.
*The Holy Koran tells us that all things in the universe are related, one to another, and that even opposites are united in some way. Pain and suffering are connected, but they are not the same thing. Pain can exist without suffering, and it is also possible to suffer without feeling pain. The difference between them is this: that what we learn from pain—for example, that fire burns and is dangerous—is always individual, for ourselves alone, but what we learn from suffering is what unites us as one human people.
*Suffering is exactly like happiness, but backwards. One is the mirror image of the other, and has no real meaning or existence without the other.
*Suffering, of every kind, is always a matter of what we’ve lost. When we’re young, we think that suffering is something that’s done to us. When we get older—when the steel door slams shut, in one way or another—we know that real suffering is measured by what’s taken away from us.
*Hey, Prabu. Tell me, what is suffering? “Is easy—suffering is hungry, isn’t it? Hungry, for anything, means suffering. Not hungry for something, means, not suffering.”
*People always hurt us with their trust; the surest way to hurt someone you like, is to put all your trust in him.
*Nothing ever fits the palm so perfectly, or feels so right, or inspires so much protective instinct as the hand of a child.
*Like most things, and most people, it’s not as bad as it looks from the outside.
*Nothing in the world is so soft and pleasing to the touch as the skin of a woman’s thigh. No flower, feather, or fabric can match the velvet whisper of flesh. No matter how unequal they may be in other ways, all women, old and young, fat and thin, beautiful and ugly, have that perfection. It’s a great part of the reason why men hunger to possess women, and so often convince themselves that they do possess them: the thigh, that touch.
*I always tell the truth, even when I’m lying.
*Wealth and power, in a city where half the many millions were homeless, were measured by the privacy that only money could buy, and the solitude that only power could demand and enforce. The poor were almost never alone and I was poor.
*I belonged nowhere and to no-one. Surrounded by people and hungry for solitude, I was always and everywhere alone. Worse than that, I was hollow, empty, gouged out and scraped bare by the escape and flight. I’d lost everyone—all the things that had defined me. Like all fugitives, the more successful I was, the longer and further I ran, the less I kept of myself. But there were a few people who could reach me: heroes of chaos who propped up the collapsible city with bamboo sticks, and insisted on loving their neighbors, no matter how far they’d fallen; no matter how broken or unlovely they were. But why them, why these few people—the richest and the most wretched, educated and illiterate, virtuous and criminal, old and young—it seemed that the only thing they had in common was a power to make me feel…something.
*I don’t know what frightens me more, the power that crushes us or our endless ability to endure it.
*I felt myself to be at the mercy of personalities that were stronger, or at least more mysterious, than my own. I felt the irresistible draw and drift of a tide that was carrying me to someone else’s destination, someone else’s destiny. All of us were refugees, survivors. If there was a bond between us, it was the bond of exiles, the kinship of the lost, the lonely, and the dispossessed.
*Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope. Sometimes we cry with everything except tears. In the end that’s all there is: love and its duty, sorrow and its truth. In the end that’s all we have—to hold on tight until the dawn.
*The world is run by one million evil men, ten million stupid men, and a hundred million cowards. The evil men are the power—the rich men, and the politicians, and the fanatics of religion—whose decisions rule the world, and set it on its course of greed and destruction. The stupid men are the soldiers and policemen who enforce the rule of the evil men. They are often brave, I’m sure, but they are stupid, too, because they give their lives for governments and causes that use their flesh and blood as mere chess pieces. Those governments always betray them or let them down or abandon them, in the long run. Nations neglect no men more shamefully than the heroes of their wars. And the cowards are the bureaucrats and paper shufflers and pen-pushers who permit the rule of evil men, and look the other way. They are managers, and officials, and mayors, and officers of the court. They always defend themselves by saying that they are just following orders, or just doing their job, and it’s nothing personal. They are the hundred million cowards who know what is going on, but say nothing, while they sign the paper that condemns one million men to the slower death of a famine. So that’s it: The world is run by one million evil men, ten million stupid men, and a hundred million cowards. The rest of us, all six billion of us, do pretty much what we are told.
*You are not a man until you give your love, truly and freely, to a child. And you are not a good man until you earn the love, truly and freely, of a child in return.
*News tells you what people did. Gossip tells you how much they enjoyed it.
*When we ac, even with the best of intentions, when we interfere with the world, we always risk a new disaster that mightn’t be of our making, but that wouldn’t occur without our action. Some of the worst wrongs were caused by people who tried to change things for the best.
*He was saved. That was the look in his eyes as he nodded his head. That look combined shame and exultation because both are essential—shame gives exultation its purpose and exultation gives shame its reward. We’d saved him as much by joining in his exultation as we had by witnessing his shame. And all of it depended upon our action, our interference in his life, because no man is saved without love.
*What characterizes the human race more: cruelty or the capacity to feel shame for it? It isn’t cruelty or shame that characterize the human race. It’s forgiveness that makes us who we are. Without forgiveness, our species would’ve annihilated itself in endless retributions. Without forgiveness, there would be no history. Without hope, there would be no art, for every work of art is in some way an act of forgiveness. Without that dream, there would be no love, for every act of love is in some way a promise to forgive. We live on because we can love, and we love because we can forgive.
*For a little while ours was a better world because the hearts and smiles that ruled it were almost as pure and clean as the flower petals fluttering from our hair, and clinging to our faces like still, white tears.
*I smoked in those days because, like everyone else in the world who smokes, I wanted to die at least as much as I wanted to live.
*I was different, forever, just for the sight of her. And the love that opened in my heart seemed to drag the rest of my life behind it, from that moment onward.
*Life probably began inside the ocean. But in a way you can say that after leaving the sea, after all those millions of years of living inside of the sea, we took the ocean with us. When a woman makes a baby, she gives it water, inside her body, to grow in. That water inside her body is almost exactly the same as the water of the sea. It is salty, by just the same amount. She makes a little ocean, in her body. And not only this. Our blood and our sweating, they are both salty, almost exactly like the water from the sea is salty. We carry oceans inside of us, in our blood and our sweat. And we carry the oceans, in our tears.
*It’s a characteristic of human nature that the best qualities, called up quickly in a crisis, are often the hardest to find in a prosperous calm. The contours of all our virtues are shaped by adversity.
*One of the ironies of courage, and the reason why we prize it so highly, is that we find it easier to be brave for someone else than we do for ourselves alone.
*Through those hours of fear and suffering and death, I found new ways and reasons to like the woman I already loved with all my heart.
*Lovers find their way by such insights and confidences: they’re the stars we use to navigate the ocean of desire. And the brightest of those starts are the heartbreaks and sorrows. The most precious gift you can bring to your lover is your suffering.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Step 27: First 3 days in Florida
Florida Day 1:
I couldn’t have picked a worse time to visit Marc. Unfortunately the poor thing was in the middle of Law School Finals week --which is basically hell. Originally I’d planned on spending more of my Florida time with him but reallocated to give him study time! In the morning Marc and I headed over to his apartment buildings pool and I relaxed reading while he furiously typed notes and studied away. I miss that about Florida. Even on crazy days in college I was still able to somewhat enjoy myself if I could get some study time done by the pool.
He had lunch plans with a group of law school friends as a going away luncheon to one of the girls who graduated --so we got dressed and headed into the city. The funny thing was that when Marc picked me up at the airport I was in an outfit he remembered well. My cargo pants and an old pink tank top. We had a laugh about it. Well, today I was wearing my graduation dress which was the last thing he’d seen me in! It was so funny. He was like, “do you ever throw things away?” We met up with his friends on the pier at a Cuban restaurant called Columbia’s. http://www.columbiarestaurant.com/
Marc’s friends were quite lovely and the food excellent…the bread was amazing! It was nice to see he had a group who could sympathize with his Law School madness. After that we went back to the apartment and sunbathing/studying resumed for the afternoon. Then we went grocery shopping and made a nice dinner. His boyfriend came home and I finally met the person in his life which was nice. I’m so happy for him. Simple day, but just what I was needing.
Florida Day 2:
Today was a similar repeat to yesterday. However, Marc and I were able to head out on a run together which was very nice. He had a study group on campus so we headed that way, but first stopped at his favorite little Cuban (apparently we love Cuban) restaurant on the way and then we were at theStetson Law School Florida
Florida Day 3:
The next day…Now Thursday April 29th Marc and I woke up and headed to Panera (oh how I had been missing you Panera! http://www.panerabread.com/) where my friend Leah…aka Mane would be picking me up. The three of us enjoyed a nice breakfast and then Marc said goodbye. Leah and I were headed to Orlando for the day. More precisely we were headed to Rollins, our old college.
I met Leah my freshman year at Rollins. Part of my scholarship demanded that I be ‘involved’ in a leadership role while attending. After scanning my options I somehow ended up joining the organization called A.C.E…or All Campus Events. We organized music shows, comedians, picnics, and all sorts of other random ‘events’ to happen on campus for student life. When I was a freshman, ACE was being led by 5 juniors and 1 senior. Leah was one of the juniors in charge.
Not joining a sorority—non-the-less not even attempting to join—at Rollins meant a whole slew of things (about 85% of Rollins is Greek). None of which I could have given a damn about. ACE became one of the places where I found myself fitting into at Rollins. These were people I felt akin with. Similar to Marc, I hadn’t seen Leah in over 5 years but we had always remained in touch and it was great to see her.
We headed to Orlando, Hwy 4; Man the memories and hours of time I’ve spent on that horribly maintained Hwy! I had already arranged visits with my two favorite professors for the afternoon and was looking forward to seeing Rollins for the first time since I graduated. When we got to Winter Park we first took a walk around my old college town, walking down Park Avenue—Winter Park really is such a lovely little town. We then heading into lunch at an old favorite spot—Powerhouse Café. My ex-boyfriend had worked in Powerhouse so I’d spent countless hours sitting on their stools. The two owners greeted us warmly—with hugs—when we walked in.
After a great lunch we walked over to the campus. The beautiful campus I was so blessed to have attended for 4 years of my life. We walked all around and took pictures.
We parted ways to meet up with our separate professors. I first made my way to Jill Jones’ office and with huge hugs we decided to go get her a bite to eat and me something to drink. We sat outside the bookstore café and for over an hour catching each other up on the last 5 years of life. We’d kept in touch since I’d left Rollins and I knew she had fought her way through cancer. She had always inspired me, but these new stories really brought out the strength I always respected in her so much. While I was at Rollins, Jill was a source of so much knowledge for me. She trusted me and she supported me when all the other teachers in my major thought I was failing them. As a professor and person I really love her.
Next I went to see Ed, my teddy bear. Ed Cohen was the very first teacher I ever had at Rollins. Obsessed with Sherlock Holmes; he was my advisor, professor, and friend throughout my time there. I’d been invited to his home for meals, always got hugs from him; he was my go to when I needed a little boost. His wife had just recently died and I wanted to be there for him this time around. When I walked into his office we had a hug and he quickly got into his usual story teller mode. No one can tell a story the way Ed can.
After about 1 and 1/2 hours of stories about his wife, everything he was going through, tears by both of us, and my future we said goodbye. It was so wonderful that he opened up to me like that. I love that man so much and I know he would bend around backwards for me if he could. What a gift I have in someone like him believing in me so much.
After our time at Rollins, Leah and I drove to my favorite park in the area. I used to run from Rollins to this park just about everyday. It was my get away. I loved it there so much. Usually quiet and peaceful. More of a neighborhood park than a public town park, so few people and lovely lake views. We spent some time there and then headed out to the Disney area of Orlando.
Tonight we were going to the HOB…The House of Blues…to see a band called BOH.. ‘Band of Horses.’ (strange coincidence). I had only heard a little of their music but it sounded good and I always loved that venue so there we were. Crowded in we found a spot on the floor and watched a great show by both the opener band ‘Josh Roberts and the Hinges’ and then by ‘Band of Horses.’ Though I loved the music, not sure it’s the best for live. Especially if you have to stand the hole time. Not exactly dance music…better as chillin’ in the house music. http://www.bandofhorses.com/us/home
After the show we headed to a friend of Leah’s place. He lived in Disney’s suburban life town—Celebration, Florida. We arrived and as soon as we said our hello’s we also said our good nights.
I couldn’t have picked a worse time to visit Marc. Unfortunately the poor thing was in the middle of Law School Finals week --which is basically hell. Originally I’d planned on spending more of my Florida time with him but reallocated to give him study time! In the morning Marc and I headed over to his apartment buildings pool and I relaxed reading while he furiously typed notes and studied away. I miss that about Florida. Even on crazy days in college I was still able to somewhat enjoy myself if I could get some study time done by the pool.
He had lunch plans with a group of law school friends as a going away luncheon to one of the girls who graduated --so we got dressed and headed into the city. The funny thing was that when Marc picked me up at the airport I was in an outfit he remembered well. My cargo pants and an old pink tank top. We had a laugh about it. Well, today I was wearing my graduation dress which was the last thing he’d seen me in! It was so funny. He was like, “do you ever throw things away?” We met up with his friends on the pier at a Cuban restaurant called Columbia’s. http://www.columbiarestaurant.com/
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| The St. Pete Pier where we had lunch |
Marc’s friends were quite lovely and the food excellent…the bread was amazing! It was nice to see he had a group who could sympathize with his Law School madness. After that we went back to the apartment and sunbathing/studying resumed for the afternoon. Then we went grocery shopping and made a nice dinner. His boyfriend came home and I finally met the person in his life which was nice. I’m so happy for him. Simple day, but just what I was needing.
Florida Day 2:
Today was a similar repeat to yesterday. However, Marc and I were able to head out on a run together which was very nice. He had a study group on campus so we headed that way, but first stopped at his favorite little Cuban (apparently we love Cuban) restaurant on the way and then we were at the
Florida Day 3:
The next day…Now Thursday April 29th Marc and I woke up and headed to Panera (oh how I had been missing you Panera! http://www.panerabread.com/) where my friend Leah…aka Mane would be picking me up. The three of us enjoyed a nice breakfast and then Marc said goodbye. Leah and I were headed to Orlando for the day. More precisely we were headed to Rollins, our old college.
I met Leah my freshman year at Rollins. Part of my scholarship demanded that I be ‘involved’ in a leadership role while attending. After scanning my options I somehow ended up joining the organization called A.C.E…or All Campus Events. We organized music shows, comedians, picnics, and all sorts of other random ‘events’ to happen on campus for student life. When I was a freshman, ACE was being led by 5 juniors and 1 senior. Leah was one of the juniors in charge.
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| Leah and I on Lake Virgina...Rollins Campus Lake |
Not joining a sorority—non-the-less not even attempting to join—at Rollins meant a whole slew of things (about 85% of Rollins is Greek). None of which I could have given a damn about. ACE became one of the places where I found myself fitting into at Rollins. These were people I felt akin with. Similar to Marc, I hadn’t seen Leah in over 5 years but we had always remained in touch and it was great to see her.
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| Lovely Winter Park |
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| The Powerhouse owners |
After a great lunch we walked over to the campus. The beautiful campus I was so blessed to have attended for 4 years of my life. We walked all around and took pictures.
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| Outside my old house ROC (Rollins Outdoor Club) where Marc and I met |
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| Jill and I on the Rollins campus |
Next I went to see Ed, my teddy bear. Ed Cohen was the very first teacher I ever had at Rollins. Obsessed with Sherlock Holmes; he was my advisor, professor, and friend throughout my time there. I’d been invited to his home for meals, always got hugs from him; he was my go to when I needed a little boost. His wife had just recently died and I wanted to be there for him this time around. When I walked into his office we had a hug and he quickly got into his usual story teller mode. No one can tell a story the way Ed can.
After about 1 and 1/2 hours of stories about his wife, everything he was going through, tears by both of us, and my future we said goodbye. It was so wonderful that he opened up to me like that. I love that man so much and I know he would bend around backwards for me if he could. What a gift I have in someone like him believing in me so much.
After our time at Rollins, Leah and I drove to my favorite park in the area. I used to run from Rollins to this park just about everyday. It was my get away. I loved it there so much. Usually quiet and peaceful. More of a neighborhood park than a public town park, so few people and lovely lake views. We spent some time there and then headed out to the Disney area of Orlando.
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| In my old favorite hidden park |
After the show we headed to a friend of Leah’s place. He lived in Disney’s suburban life town—Celebration, Florida. We arrived and as soon as we said our hello’s we also said our good nights.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Step 26: Last day New Orleans...onto Florida
Last Day in New Orleans:
On five hours of sleep Dennis and Lynn were up and heading to their flight. I got up with them and said goodbye. As they got into the taxi for the airport I went on a very early morning run. It was my last run in New Orleans on this trip and it was a beautiful morning. A lot of thoughts ran through my head as I was running. One of the things I’d been wondering before coming home was what I would be doing when I come back to the USA for good. Will I stay in Colorado, go back to school, what job? As I ran along the Moon Walk the thought crossed my mind…’could I live here?’ Bizarre thought considering my first visit to New Orleans left me feeling disgusted with the city…now I felt a real love for it.
Doug had promised to pick me up for breakfast at 9:30. After my run, shower, and packing all of my things it was only 7:20 so I got back into bed for a while before taking my luggage down to the front desk storage. Doug got there right at 9:30 and we headed to breakfast at a spot called Coolies on a back street in a cute little neighborhood up town. Buckwheat pancakes and laughter, both of which were wonderful.
After the breakfast, Doug took me on a driving tour of New Orleans. First he showed me around Dillard University which was the first college he’d attended when he came to New Orleans. Dillard is a Black College and when he was attending he was one of two non-black students. He later transferred to Tulane for the program he wanted.
After that we drove to the 9th ward where the majority of the Katrina damage really took place. Basically this area had been flattened and forgotten and with five years of time to repair it not much seems to have been done. There were a few bizarre looking homes dispersed in the area, which Doug explained were a part of Brad Pitt’s project to rebuild the 9th ward. But those few homes made little impact on the vast amount of debris that remained in piles everywhere. We drove to the water line and looked out on a calm day…I tried to imagine what it must have been like during those tragic days but know that my mind can’t do it justice.
Lastly I requested that he take me to an old New Orleans cemetery and so we walked through the St. Louis Cemetery which was established in 1823. I’ve always had a strange love for cemeteries; finding them peaceful and thoughtful places to search yourself. Maybe it comes from growing up right next to a cemetery when I was a kid living on Cemetery Lane. I’m not sure. Non-the-less this was a particularly moving place especially for the messages in both English and French that were engraved into the beaten down stones. One in particular really captured me. The head of the statue had been taken off I assume by a storm or some such thing. Below the statues feet read simply ‘Silence.’
Doug took me back to the hotel and we said goodbye. I still had hours until my flight so I wandered the city a bit more and then went to the roof of the hotel and laid by the pool until it was time to catch my airport shuttle.
Back in the airport I was now heading to Tampa, Florida. I arrived there at around 11pm and quickly got my cell phone out to call Marc. MARC. Ah, it had been 5 years since I’d seen him and now there he was waiting for me outside the airport next to his car. 5 years but what had changed?; Only this and that and a few other things…but mostly nothing. We instantaneously reverted to our old ridiculous antics and it felt like old times on the 3rd floor of ROC—where we’d met and become such good friends.
I met Marc the second semester of my junior year in college. I had been abroad in Australia for the first semester and my old room was meant to be waiting for me when I got back…but someone else had taken it. Using my power in the house she quickly was moving her things to a different room and I was settling into mine. The first thing Marc remembers about me (I don’t remember this) was our meeting in the bathroom when I apparently told him that if he had a problem with me having the girl move than too bad. I guess he told me he didn’t have a problem with it because we quickly became the best of friends.
I always felt extremely comfortable around Marc and trusted him so much. He was always so generous and giving to me with his time and attention and anything I needed he was always supportive. He also loved the outdoors and staying fit which was a great partnership between us. We became running pals and weekend adventure partners. He became my best friend at Rollins for the remainder of my time there. He also attended my graduation brunch and that was the last time I’d seen him.
We first went onto a cute little street where we headed into a bar and ordered some tea and a mojito. We had a great time just catching up and chatting away with the bartender who was adorable and kind. By 1am we headed back to his apartment. He is living in Tampa now while he attends Stetson University Law School. When we got back to the his place he showed me into the guest room of his awesome 2 bedroom apartment and we both went crashing into bed. What a day; beautiful, dark, haunting, hopeful sights, old friends, and the next stage of my holiday. FLORIDA – I’M BACK!!!
On five hours of sleep Dennis and Lynn were up and heading to their flight. I got up with them and said goodbye. As they got into the taxi for the airport I went on a very early morning run. It was my last run in New Orleans on this trip and it was a beautiful morning. A lot of thoughts ran through my head as I was running. One of the things I’d been wondering before coming home was what I would be doing when I come back to the USA for good. Will I stay in Colorado, go back to school, what job? As I ran along the Moon Walk the thought crossed my mind…’could I live here?’ Bizarre thought considering my first visit to New Orleans left me feeling disgusted with the city…now I felt a real love for it.
Doug had promised to pick me up for breakfast at 9:30. After my run, shower, and packing all of my things it was only 7:20 so I got back into bed for a while before taking my luggage down to the front desk storage. Doug got there right at 9:30 and we headed to breakfast at a spot called Coolies on a back street in a cute little neighborhood up town. Buckwheat pancakes and laughter, both of which were wonderful.
After the breakfast, Doug took me on a driving tour of New Orleans. First he showed me around Dillard University which was the first college he’d attended when he came to New Orleans. Dillard is a Black College and when he was attending he was one of two non-black students. He later transferred to Tulane for the program he wanted.
 |
| Doug, looking out on the Water fromthe 9th ward area -reflectively |
After that we drove to the 9th ward where the majority of the Katrina damage really took place. Basically this area had been flattened and forgotten and with five years of time to repair it not much seems to have been done. There were a few bizarre looking homes dispersed in the area, which Doug explained were a part of Brad Pitt’s project to rebuild the 9th ward. But those few homes made little impact on the vast amount of debris that remained in piles everywhere. We drove to the water line and looked out on a calm day…I tried to imagine what it must have been like during those tragic days but know that my mind can’t do it justice.
 |
| Rubble everywhere--even in the cemetery |
Lastly I requested that he take me to an old New Orleans cemetery and so we walked through the St. Louis Cemetery which was established in 1823. I’ve always had a strange love for cemeteries; finding them peaceful and thoughtful places to search yourself. Maybe it comes from growing up right next to a cemetery when I was a kid living on Cemetery Lane. I’m not sure. Non-the-less this was a particularly moving place especially for the messages in both English and French that were engraved into the beaten down stones. One in particular really captured me. The head of the statue had been taken off I assume by a storm or some such thing. Below the statues feet read simply ‘Silence.’
Doug took me back to the hotel and we said goodbye. I still had hours until my flight so I wandered the city a bit more and then went to the roof of the hotel and laid by the pool until it was time to catch my airport shuttle.
Back in the airport I was now heading to Tampa, Florida. I arrived there at around 11pm and quickly got my cell phone out to call Marc. MARC. Ah, it had been 5 years since I’d seen him and now there he was waiting for me outside the airport next to his car. 5 years but what had changed?; Only this and that and a few other things…but mostly nothing. We instantaneously reverted to our old ridiculous antics and it felt like old times on the 3rd floor of ROC—where we’d met and become such good friends.
I met Marc the second semester of my junior year in college. I had been abroad in Australia for the first semester and my old room was meant to be waiting for me when I got back…but someone else had taken it. Using my power in the house she quickly was moving her things to a different room and I was settling into mine. The first thing Marc remembers about me (I don’t remember this) was our meeting in the bathroom when I apparently told him that if he had a problem with me having the girl move than too bad. I guess he told me he didn’t have a problem with it because we quickly became the best of friends.
I always felt extremely comfortable around Marc and trusted him so much. He was always so generous and giving to me with his time and attention and anything I needed he was always supportive. He also loved the outdoors and staying fit which was a great partnership between us. We became running pals and weekend adventure partners. He became my best friend at Rollins for the remainder of my time there. He also attended my graduation brunch and that was the last time I’d seen him.
We first went onto a cute little street where we headed into a bar and ordered some tea and a mojito. We had a great time just catching up and chatting away with the bartender who was adorable and kind. By 1am we headed back to his apartment. He is living in Tampa now while he attends Stetson University Law School. When we got back to the his place he showed me into the guest room of his awesome 2 bedroom apartment and we both went crashing into bed. What a day; beautiful, dark, haunting, hopeful sights, old friends, and the next stage of my holiday. FLORIDA – I’M BACK!!!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Step 25: Shantaram Part 2
SHANTARAM: Chapter 7-12
Part 2 and Continuing quotes from the wonderful book by Gregory David Robers
*You understand it and accept it when the bad guys work you over. But when the good guys use handcuffs to chain you to a wall, and then take turns to stomp and kick you, it’s the whole system, it’s the whole world, that’s breaking your bones.
*A man can make his way in the city with his heart and his soul crushed within a clenched fist; but to live in a village, he has to unfurl his heart and his soul in his eyes.
*Life on the run puts a lie in the echo of every laugh, and at least a little larceny in every act of love.
*A dream is the place where a wish and a fear meet. When the wish and the fear are exactly the same we call the dream a nightmare.
*The people were simply staring at my fear. They were trying to understand what demons haunted my mind, causing me to dread so terribly the place they knew to be a sanctuary from fates far worse than slum life.
*I knew there was something—some meaning, some purpose, leading me to that place, and that job, at exactly that time. And the force of it was strong enough to bind me to the work, when every intuition tried to warn me away.
*When I committed the armed robberies, I put fear into people. From that time—even as I did the crimes—and on through prison and life on the run, fate put fear into me. The fear I’d put into others became ten terrors, fifty, a thousand, filling the loneliest hours of every night with dread.
*My rich friends feared the poor. My poor friends feared the cops. Most foreigners feared everybody, and kept to their hotels. So, at night, the streets were mine as I searched their cool silences.
*We can compel men not to be bad, but we cannot compel them to be good.
*The worst thing about corruption as a system of governance is that it works so well.
*There is no act of faith more beautiful than the generosity of the very poor.
*There is no believing in God. We either know God, or we do not. I certainly don’t know God, and frankly I’m inclined to think God is impossible to believe in, at least most of the notions of God that I’ve come across. Of course God is impossible. That is the first proof that He exists.
*The sane man is simply a better liar than the insane man.
*Men lie to themselves more than to others, and to others more often than they tell the truth.
*To know the truth, all you have to do is close your eyes. We can know God, for example, and we can know sadness. We can know dreams, and we can know love. But noe of these are real, in our usual sense of things that exist in the world and seem real. We cannot weigh them, or measure their length, or find their basic parts in an atom smasher. Which is why they are possible.
*I know now that there are beginnings, turning points, many of them, in every life; questions of luck and will and fate.
*The truth is found more often in music than it is in books of philosophy.
*Men are just men—it is what they do, or refuse to do, that links them to good and evil. The truth is that an instant of real love, in the heart of anyone—the noblest man alive or the most wicked—has the whole purpose and process and meaning of life within the lotus-folds of its passion. The truth is that we are all, every one of us, every atom, every galaxy, and every particle of matter in the universe, moving toward God.
*Dream the future, plan it, and then make it happen.
*Prison pulls the masks away from men. You can’t hide what you are, in prison. You can’t pretend to be tough. You are, or you’re not, and everyone knows it.
*There is no reason good enough to make us fight with each other. We are all poor men here. There are enemies enough for all of us outside this place. We live together, or we die.
*Justice is a judgment that is both fair and forgiving. Justice is not done until everyone is satisfied, even those who offend us and must be punished by us. Justice is not only the way we punish those who do wrong. It is also the way we try to save them.
*Poverty and pride are devoted blood brothers until one, always and inevitably, kills the other.
*My Dear Brother:
You told me that you are giving the bear hugs to the people. I think this is a custom in your country and even if I think it is very strange and even if I do not understand, I think you must be lonely for it here because in Bombay we have a shortage of bears. So I send you a bear for some hugging. Please enjoy. I hope he is like the hugging bears in your country. God bless you and your brother. -Abdullah
*The ghetto was a living organism: to counter external threats, it responded with the antibodies of courage, solidarity, and that desperate, magnificent love we usually call the survival instinct.
*The people showed thanks, rather than saying it, and I’d come to accept and respect that.
*Fear and guilt are the dark angels that haunt rich men.
*I sometimes think that the size of our happiness is inversely proportional to the size of our house.
*I take everything personally—that’s what being a person is all about.
*A politician is someone who promises you a bridge, even when there’s no river.
*This is crazy, yes, but it is the kind of crazy that many people will agree with, inside the quiet of their own heads.
*I was once described by an ex-girlfriend as ‘interested in everything, and committed to nothing.
*I don’t know what scares me more, the madness that smashes people down, or their ability to endure it.
*It’s such a huge arrogance, to love someone, and there’s too much of it around. There’s too much love in the world. Sometimes I think that’s what heaven is—a place where everybody’s happy because nobody loves anybody else, ever.
*I can't love you...but I’ll be head over heels in like with you if that’s enough.
Part 2 and Continuing quotes from the wonderful book by Gregory David Robers
*You understand it and accept it when the bad guys work you over. But when the good guys use handcuffs to chain you to a wall, and then take turns to stomp and kick you, it’s the whole system, it’s the whole world, that’s breaking your bones.
*A man can make his way in the city with his heart and his soul crushed within a clenched fist; but to live in a village, he has to unfurl his heart and his soul in his eyes.
*Life on the run puts a lie in the echo of every laugh, and at least a little larceny in every act of love.
*A dream is the place where a wish and a fear meet. When the wish and the fear are exactly the same we call the dream a nightmare.
*The people were simply staring at my fear. They were trying to understand what demons haunted my mind, causing me to dread so terribly the place they knew to be a sanctuary from fates far worse than slum life.
*I knew there was something—some meaning, some purpose, leading me to that place, and that job, at exactly that time. And the force of it was strong enough to bind me to the work, when every intuition tried to warn me away.
*When I committed the armed robberies, I put fear into people. From that time—even as I did the crimes—and on through prison and life on the run, fate put fear into me. The fear I’d put into others became ten terrors, fifty, a thousand, filling the loneliest hours of every night with dread.
*My rich friends feared the poor. My poor friends feared the cops. Most foreigners feared everybody, and kept to their hotels. So, at night, the streets were mine as I searched their cool silences.
*We can compel men not to be bad, but we cannot compel them to be good.
*The worst thing about corruption as a system of governance is that it works so well.
*There is no act of faith more beautiful than the generosity of the very poor.
*There is no believing in God. We either know God, or we do not. I certainly don’t know God, and frankly I’m inclined to think God is impossible to believe in, at least most of the notions of God that I’ve come across. Of course God is impossible. That is the first proof that He exists.
*The sane man is simply a better liar than the insane man.
*Men lie to themselves more than to others, and to others more often than they tell the truth.
*To know the truth, all you have to do is close your eyes. We can know God, for example, and we can know sadness. We can know dreams, and we can know love. But noe of these are real, in our usual sense of things that exist in the world and seem real. We cannot weigh them, or measure their length, or find their basic parts in an atom smasher. Which is why they are possible.
*I know now that there are beginnings, turning points, many of them, in every life; questions of luck and will and fate.
*The truth is found more often in music than it is in books of philosophy.
*Men are just men—it is what they do, or refuse to do, that links them to good and evil. The truth is that an instant of real love, in the heart of anyone—the noblest man alive or the most wicked—has the whole purpose and process and meaning of life within the lotus-folds of its passion. The truth is that we are all, every one of us, every atom, every galaxy, and every particle of matter in the universe, moving toward God.
*Dream the future, plan it, and then make it happen.
*Prison pulls the masks away from men. You can’t hide what you are, in prison. You can’t pretend to be tough. You are, or you’re not, and everyone knows it.
*There is no reason good enough to make us fight with each other. We are all poor men here. There are enemies enough for all of us outside this place. We live together, or we die.
*Justice is a judgment that is both fair and forgiving. Justice is not done until everyone is satisfied, even those who offend us and must be punished by us. Justice is not only the way we punish those who do wrong. It is also the way we try to save them.
*Poverty and pride are devoted blood brothers until one, always and inevitably, kills the other.
*My Dear Brother:
You told me that you are giving the bear hugs to the people. I think this is a custom in your country and even if I think it is very strange and even if I do not understand, I think you must be lonely for it here because in Bombay we have a shortage of bears. So I send you a bear for some hugging. Please enjoy. I hope he is like the hugging bears in your country. God bless you and your brother. -Abdullah
*The ghetto was a living organism: to counter external threats, it responded with the antibodies of courage, solidarity, and that desperate, magnificent love we usually call the survival instinct.
*The people showed thanks, rather than saying it, and I’d come to accept and respect that.
*Fear and guilt are the dark angels that haunt rich men.
*I sometimes think that the size of our happiness is inversely proportional to the size of our house.
*I take everything personally—that’s what being a person is all about.
*A politician is someone who promises you a bridge, even when there’s no river.
*This is crazy, yes, but it is the kind of crazy that many people will agree with, inside the quiet of their own heads.
*I was once described by an ex-girlfriend as ‘interested in everything, and committed to nothing.
*I don’t know what scares me more, the madness that smashes people down, or their ability to endure it.
*It’s such a huge arrogance, to love someone, and there’s too much of it around. There’s too much love in the world. Sometimes I think that’s what heaven is—a place where everybody’s happy because nobody loves anybody else, ever.
*I can't love you...but I’ll be head over heels in like with you if that’s enough.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Step 24: New Orleans day 5
New Orleans Day 5:
For some reason Dennis woke up on the wrong side of the bed and that put the day off to a ruff start. Lynn’s friend Debbie, who we’d met a couple days ago, wanted to see Lynn one more time before heading out so they had planned on us all going to breakfast. For some reason Dennis saw this as a major scheduling mistake and was making quite a fuss about it. Never-the-less Debbie came to pick us all up and we headed to a restaurant outside of downtown to escape the crowds. Despite this move, it was Sunday morning so of course most breakfast places were going to be somewhat crowded.
When they told us it would be a 20 minute wait Dennis was no longer just peeved, he was mad—us girls just ignored him. I decided I wasn’t going to eat nor was I going to stand around and watch Dennis as he paced and chain smoked so I was off on a walk.
Last day of the Jazz Festival for us and we couldn’t have asked for better weather for that last day. Bright blue skies graced New Orleans throughout the day and the festival makers graced the fairgrounds with woodchips and sand to fill in some of the mud pits.
We had lunch, relaxed, and then went to see Marcia Ball who Dennis had seen in the past and raved about. He was right! She is fabulous. Quite a rocker and we had a blast dancing with all the people around us.
Right after Marcia Ball was Darius Rucker…AKA…”Hootie” from Hootie and the Blowfish. Of course I listened to Hootie and the Blowfish in middle school/ high school but I guess I never really appreciated what a spectacular voice that man has. His solo style is a bit different than what he used to do with Hootie, now he’s more of a country rock genre kind of guy…but I thought it was working quite well for him.
After that we headed to the Congo Stage where the beautiful and talented Anita Baker was dancing her gorgeous gams all over the stage. Everyone was dancing and I really loved her voice and all the eclectic people watching.
Last show of the festival we headed to the main stage to see the Neville Brothers. Not quite as jammed packed as yesterday for Simon & Garfunkle but still hoards of people. We found a good spot where the sound was good and the view spectacular. The Neville Brothers need to mix it up and get some new material…they are still young. Of course I love the few great songs they have and once again people watching was an excellent side show. So many people; so many different kinds of people from all over; in order to keep groups together many use distinguishing flags. I spotted a Colorado flag, a Japanese flag, and hundreds of others. Beyond the flags was the top of a cathedral and as the sun set behind us it landed on the tip of the cathedral and was just one of those moments when you’re so appreciative of the gifts you have been blessed with in life.
Standing there in the sun, watching Dennis and Lynn so happy and in love, dancing, music, good people, peaceful feeling—an amazing moment.
We got back to the hotel and went to dinner right down the street from the hotel at a place called Deanie’s that Lynn had been to before. It was our last meal together on this wonderful trip. Our waitress was a very cool and sweet girl who wasn’t shy to share that this was her second shift there and she was deliriously exhausted so wanted to apologize upfront for any mistakes she might make. Truth is she was a great waitress and we had a fabulous meal. At the end of the meal Lynn asked her for a decaf coffee but the waitress said they didn’t have any. So, Lynn said “Well, I’ll just have to have a tuaca.” The girl’s face dropped in shock. She was all “Please maam, I’m so sorry I can see if I can find some decaf for you somewhere.” We discovered the source of her fear was that she’d misunderstood Lynn and thought Lynn had said “Well, I’m just gonna have to walk out.” To walk a-t…Tuaca. HAHAH…we all had such a laugh and made for a stand out memory.
http://www.deanies.com/
Lynn and Dennis finished up their packing and we all had one last game of cribbage which we’d been playing whenever we had spare time. Lynn kicked Dennis and I’s asses yet again and then we headed to bed. The end to another tremendous day.
For some reason Dennis woke up on the wrong side of the bed and that put the day off to a ruff start. Lynn’s friend Debbie, who we’d met a couple days ago, wanted to see Lynn one more time before heading out so they had planned on us all going to breakfast. For some reason Dennis saw this as a major scheduling mistake and was making quite a fuss about it. Never-the-less Debbie came to pick us all up and we headed to a restaurant outside of downtown to escape the crowds. Despite this move, it was Sunday morning so of course most breakfast places were going to be somewhat crowded.
When they told us it would be a 20 minute wait Dennis was no longer just peeved, he was mad—us girls just ignored him. I decided I wasn’t going to eat nor was I going to stand around and watch Dennis as he paced and chain smoked so I was off on a walk.
I walked all through these old neighborhoods a few blocks off the St. Charles Street Trolley. What a beautiful area it is. The trees providing a bit of shade from the hot sun, unique homes, and lovely gardens; it was really tranquil. When I got back to the restaurant they were just getting their plates and finally with some coffee and food in him Dennis was back to his normal self.
Then Debbie drove us to the festival and there we were at 12 o’clock. Dennis apologized for his morning behavior to us both with hugs and kisses and the day was a new. I gained a new respect for Lynn that morning. We both understand Dennis has been used to doing things his way most of his adult life…so it takes a bit of patience and flexibility…as well as the ability to tune him out from time to time. We both also knew that he’d come around eventually…which he did! We love you Dennis!
Last day of the Jazz Festival for us and we couldn’t have asked for better weather for that last day. Bright blue skies graced New Orleans throughout the day and the festival makers graced the fairgrounds with woodchips and sand to fill in some of the mud pits.
 |
| Finally a beautiful day...people could get out of raincoats and into some fun with their outfits |
The first group we watched was amazing! The New Orleans Preservation Hall Jazz Band. Oh my god they were unbelievable—I couldn’t have stopped dancing if I’d wanted to. They also had a bunch of special guests—including the lead singer from My Morning Jacket—perform with them which made it even more special.
Next we stopped at the King Sunny Ade show and then went into the Jazz tent to get out of the hot sun. We found seats but the female couple next to us didn’t appreciate us saying a word to them in friendliness or any other way and after a lot of fussing finally attacked. The funny thing was they wouldn’t talk to Dennis even though they were talking about him. Instead the directed their fury towards Lynn and I, instructing us to tell our friend to keep his voice down and that they weren’t interested in his stories. It was pretty bizarre actually that they would not look him in the eye or talk to him. I guess the Jazz tent was a bit too civilized for us so we happily got up and left them to their wishes of being alone.
 |
| Capturing some of the people at the festival via camera |
We had lunch, relaxed, and then went to see Marcia Ball who Dennis had seen in the past and raved about. He was right! She is fabulous. Quite a rocker and we had a blast dancing with all the people around us.
 |
| Marcia Ball -getting groovy |
Right after Marcia Ball was Darius Rucker…AKA…”Hootie” from Hootie and the Blowfish. Of course I listened to Hootie and the Blowfish in middle school/ high school but I guess I never really appreciated what a spectacular voice that man has. His solo style is a bit different than what he used to do with Hootie, now he’s more of a country rock genre kind of guy…but I thought it was working quite well for him.
 |
| Dennis and Lynn having a dance |
After that we headed to the Congo Stage where the beautiful and talented Anita Baker was dancing her gorgeous gams all over the stage. Everyone was dancing and I really loved her voice and all the eclectic people watching.
 |
| Anita Baker -getting the crowd into it |
Last show of the festival we headed to the main stage to see the Neville Brothers. Not quite as jammed packed as yesterday for Simon & Garfunkle but still hoards of people. We found a good spot where the sound was good and the view spectacular. The Neville Brothers need to mix it up and get some new material…they are still young. Of course I love the few great songs they have and once again people watching was an excellent side show. So many people; so many different kinds of people from all over; in order to keep groups together many use distinguishing flags. I spotted a Colorado flag, a Japanese flag, and hundreds of others. Beyond the flags was the top of a cathedral and as the sun set behind us it landed on the tip of the cathedral and was just one of those moments when you’re so appreciative of the gifts you have been blessed with in life.
 |
| Can you see the chapel? the flags? The people? The Neville Brothers on the big screen? |
Standing there in the sun, watching Dennis and Lynn so happy and in love, dancing, music, good people, peaceful feeling—an amazing moment.
 |
| Dennis and Lynn...thanks for sharing it all with me! |
We got back to the hotel and went to dinner right down the street from the hotel at a place called Deanie’s that Lynn had been to before. It was our last meal together on this wonderful trip. Our waitress was a very cool and sweet girl who wasn’t shy to share that this was her second shift there and she was deliriously exhausted so wanted to apologize upfront for any mistakes she might make. Truth is she was a great waitress and we had a fabulous meal. At the end of the meal Lynn asked her for a decaf coffee but the waitress said they didn’t have any. So, Lynn said “Well, I’ll just have to have a tuaca.” The girl’s face dropped in shock. She was all “Please maam, I’m so sorry I can see if I can find some decaf for you somewhere.” We discovered the source of her fear was that she’d misunderstood Lynn and thought Lynn had said “Well, I’m just gonna have to walk out.” To walk a-t…Tuaca. HAHAH…we all had such a laugh and made for a stand out memory.
http://www.deanies.com/
Lynn and Dennis finished up their packing and we all had one last game of cribbage which we’d been playing whenever we had spare time. Lynn kicked Dennis and I’s asses yet again and then we headed to bed. The end to another tremendous day.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Step 23: Shantaram quotes: chapter 1-6
Recently finished this amazing book. It came to me via a reccommendation from my friend Yuri who I will be forever grateful that he shared the title with me. When I bought it from amazon one of the editors had written something along the lines of "this book will come to you for a reason...only when you're ready." Why ever it came to me I'm glad it did. And slowly I've been typing up my favorite quotes which there are many. Here are those just from the first 6 chapters. Enjoy.
SHANTARAM- by Gregory David Roberts: Chapter 1-6
*It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realized, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: fee to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn’t sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.
*So it begins, this story, like everything else—with a woman, and a city, and a little bit of luck.
*It’s the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it’s the sour, stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. Bombay…it’s the worst good smell in the world.
*The fact of the fugitive life is that you have to keep on escaping, every day and every night. Every day, when you’re on the run, is the whole of your life. Every free minute is a short story with a happy ending.
*The slums went on, and their sheer ubiquity wore down my foreigner’s pieties. A kind of wonder possessed me. I felt defiled by my own health and the money in my pockets. I began to look beyond the immensity of the slum societies, and to see the people who lived within them. And then, last, what should’ve been first, I saw how beautiful they were.
*Two pairs of clear, pale-blue eyes stared at me with the vague, almost accusatory censure of those who’ve convinced themselves that they’ve found the one true path.
*The touch was exactly what the touch of a lover’s hand should be: familiar, yet exciting as a whispered promise.
*The legends say that the loved one is instantly recognized because she’s loved in every gesture, every expression of thought, every movement, every sound, and every mood that prays in her eyes. The legends say that we know her by her wings—the wings that only we can see—and because wanting her kills every other desire of love.
*But wisdom, in one sense, is the opposite of love. Love survives in us precisely because I isn’t wise.
*“Maybe you will become such good and closely friends that you will have it a lot of sexes together, and make a full enjoyment of your bodies. I am sure you will have a friendly pleasure.” P
*Fate needs accomplices, and the stones in destiny’s walls are mortared with small and heedless complicities such as those. (in his renaming to 'Lin'…which means Penis)
*Prabaker had just then decided to like me, and for him that meant he was bound to a scrupulous and literal honesty in everything he said or did. It was at once his most endearing and most irritating quality, that he always told me the whole of the truth.
*I didn’t tell her about it. I wish now with all my heart that I did. The past reflects eternally between two mirrors—the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn’t do or say.
*She looked the world in the eye and stared it down, and I liked that about her because I didn’t love the world then. The world wanted to kill me or catch me. Repression breeds resistance in some men, and I was resisting the world with every minute of my life.
*The world and I are not on speaking terms. The world keeps trying to win me back, but it doesn’t work. I guess I’m just not the forgiving type.
*I knew the determination in her that was almost brutal, and the courage that was almost cruel, and the lonely, angry longing to be loved.
*I was numb, in those first years after my escape: no-one and nothing, could really hurt me. No-one and nothing could make me very happy. I was tough, which is probably the saddest thing you can say about a man.
*You’re a good listener. That’s dangerous, because it’s so hard to resist. Being listened to—really listened to—is the second-best thing in the world. The best thing in the world is power. “What about sex?” No. Apart from biology, sex is all about power. That’s why it’s such a rush. “And what about love?” No. Love is the opposite of power. That’s why we fear it so much.
*Craziness is the basis of every fine relationship.
*Writing was one of the things that saved me: the discipline and abstraction of putting my life into words, every day, helped me to cope with shame and its first cousin, despair.
*There’s no system that’s immune to the misuse of money.
*A man has to draw the line somewhere. Civilization, after all, is defined by what we forbid, more than what we permit.
*When you judge the power that is in a person, you must judge their capacities as both friend and as enemy.
*Friendship is something that gets harder to understand, every damn year of my life. Friendship is like a kind of algebra test that nobody passes. In my worst moods, I think the best you can say is that a friend is anyone you don’t despise.
*Hypocrisy is just another kind of cruelty.
*Truth is a bully we all pretend to like.
*The sea is so frightening that it turns people to stone. You see them standing on the deserted beaches, and staring at the sea—statues, scattered along the beach between cliffs, frozen stiff by the terror they feel when they look at the ocean.
*I think I love America most of all. There’s something so confident and open-hearted and…and brave about America, and the American people. (karla)
*She would’ve done anything for him. Some women are like that. Some loves are like that. Most loves are like that. Your heart starts to feel like an over-crowded lifeboat. You throw your pride out to keep it afloat, and your self-respect and your independence. After a while you start throwing people out—your friends, everyone you used to know. And it’s still not enough. The lifeboat is still sinking, and you know it’s going to take you down with it. I’ve seen that happen to a lot of people. I think that’s why I’m sick of love.
*Magic; the trick that connects the ordinary to the impossible.
*If I wanted to stay there, in the city I’d already fallen in love with, I had to change. The city wouldn’t let me be a watcher, aloof and apart. If I wanted to stay, I had to expect that she would drag me into the river of her rapture, and her rage. Sooner or later, I knew, I would have to step off the pavement and into the bloody crowd, and put my body on the line.
*Sometimes, even with the purest intentions, we make things worse when we do our best to make things better.
*Ask any man with a long-enough experience of prisons, and he’ll tell you that all it takes to harden a man’s heart is a system of justice.
*There’s a truth that’s deeper than experience. It’s beyond what we see, or even what we feel. It’s an order of truth that separates the profound from the merely clever, and the reality from the perception. We’re helpless, usually, in the face of it; and the cost of knowing it, like the cost of knowing love, is sometimes greater than any heart would willingly pay. It doesn’t always help us to love the world, but it does prevent us from hating the world. And the only way to know that truth is to share it, from heart to heart.
*There’s a dark feeling—less than hatred, but more than loathing—that ugly men feel for handsome men. It’s unreasonable and unjustified, of course, but it’s always there. It creeps out, into the light of your eyes, when you’re falling in love with a beautiful woman.
*People who can wear an obsession with panache, always win me over because their honesty speaks directly to my heart.
*Optimism is the first cousin of love, and it’s exactly like love in three ways: it’s pushy, it has no real sense of humor, and it turns up where you least expect it.
*We all have to earn our futures. If we don’t earn it, we don’t have a future at all. And if we don’t earn it, if we don’t deserve it, we have to live in the present, more or less forever. Or worse, we have to live in the past. I think that’s probably what love is—a way of earning the future.
*The facts of life are very simple. In the beginning we feared everything—animals, the weather, the trees, the night sky—everything except each other. Now we fear each other, and almost nothing else. No-one knows why anyone does anything. No-one tells the truth. No-one is happy. No-one is safe. In the face of all that is so wrong with the world, the very worst thing you can do is survive. And yet you must survive. It is this dilemma that makes us believe and cling to the lie that we have a soul, and that there is a God who cares about its fate.
*If you have to ask the question, you have no right to the answer.
*The real trick in life is to want nothing, and to succeed in getting it.
*Wisdom is just cleverness, with all the guts kicked out of it. I’d rather be clever than wise, any day. Most of the wise people I know give me a headache, but I never met a clever man or woman I didn’t like. If I was giving wise advice—which I’m not—I’d say don’t get drunk, don’t spend all your money, and don’t fall in love with a pretty village girl. That would be wise. That’s the difference between clever and wise. I prefer to be clever, and that’s why I told you to surrender, when you get to the village, no matter what you find when you get there.
*When will it be the time? “I think…a little bit almost quite very soon, and not long.” Prab
*There was pride in his face, but he was sad, and tired, and worried. I realized that all farmers, everywhere, are just as tired, worried, proud, and sad: that the soil you turn and the seed you sow are all you have, when you live and work the Earth. And sometimes, much too often, there’s nothing more than that—the silent, secret, heartbreaking joy God puts into things that bloom and grow—to help you face the fear of hunger and dread of evil.
*“He wants you to pat his tummies” No “A few pats only. It won’t bite you, my father’s tummies.” …Sometimes you have to surrender before you win. Surrender is at the heart of the human experience.
*It was there, when another man’s father reached out to comfort me, that I saw and felt the torment of what I’d done, and what I’d become. My heart broke on the shame and sorrow. I suddenly knew how much crying there was in me, and how little love. I knew, at last, how lonely I was. But I couldn’t respond. My culture had taught me all the wrong things so well. So I lay completely still, and gave no reaction at all. But the soul has no culture. The soul has no nations. The soul has no color or accent or way of life. The soul is forever. The soul is one. And when the heart has its moments of truth and sorrow, the soul can’t be stilled.
*One of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.
*She was a woman to admire and to desire, but the message in her eye and her bearing was unmistakable: offend or disesteem her at your peril.
*In that poor and simple village, no-one doubted or forgot that its treasures were its people.
*No happiness exists without its woe, no wealth without its cost, and no life without its full measure, sooner or later, of sorrowing and death.
*Women, with no outlet for their special creativities, endured the long, quiet ruin of their talents. Others watched the slow waste of bright children who could’ve been more and done more in some other, busier place, but never would know more than the village, the fields, and the river.
*If an abundance of good food, laughter, singing, and an amiable disposition can be taken as indicators of well-being and happiness, then the villagers eclipsed their western counterparts in those qualities of life.
*There was a sense of certainty in the village: the certainty emerges when the soil, and the generations who work it, become interchangeable; when the identities of the human beings and the nature of the place are one and the same. Cities are centers of constant and irreversible change. The definitive sound of a city is the rattlesnake chatter of a jackhammer—the warning sound you hear as the business reptile strikes.
*There is a river that runs through every one of us, no matter where we come from, all over the world. It’s the river of the heart, and the heart’s desire. It’s the pure, essential truth of what each one of us is, and can achieve. All my life I’d been a fighter. I was always ready, too ready, to fight for what I loved, and against what I deplored. In the end, I became the expression of that fight, and my real nature was concealed behind a mask of menace and hostility. The message of my face and my body movement was ‘Don’t fuck with me.’ In the end, I became so good at expressing the sentiment that the whole of my life became the message. No one in the village could read my body language…so it didn’t work. They took me as a peaceful man. I was given a chance to reinvent myself, to follow that river within, and become the man I’d always wanted to be. I became: Shantaram ‘man of peace’.
SHANTARAM- by Gregory David Roberts: Chapter 1-6
*It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realized, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: fee to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn’t sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.
*So it begins, this story, like everything else—with a woman, and a city, and a little bit of luck.
*It’s the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it’s the sour, stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. Bombay…it’s the worst good smell in the world.
*The fact of the fugitive life is that you have to keep on escaping, every day and every night. Every day, when you’re on the run, is the whole of your life. Every free minute is a short story with a happy ending.
*The slums went on, and their sheer ubiquity wore down my foreigner’s pieties. A kind of wonder possessed me. I felt defiled by my own health and the money in my pockets. I began to look beyond the immensity of the slum societies, and to see the people who lived within them. And then, last, what should’ve been first, I saw how beautiful they were.
*Two pairs of clear, pale-blue eyes stared at me with the vague, almost accusatory censure of those who’ve convinced themselves that they’ve found the one true path.
*The touch was exactly what the touch of a lover’s hand should be: familiar, yet exciting as a whispered promise.
*The legends say that the loved one is instantly recognized because she’s loved in every gesture, every expression of thought, every movement, every sound, and every mood that prays in her eyes. The legends say that we know her by her wings—the wings that only we can see—and because wanting her kills every other desire of love.
*But wisdom, in one sense, is the opposite of love. Love survives in us precisely because I isn’t wise.
*“Maybe you will become such good and closely friends that you will have it a lot of sexes together, and make a full enjoyment of your bodies. I am sure you will have a friendly pleasure.” P
*Fate needs accomplices, and the stones in destiny’s walls are mortared with small and heedless complicities such as those. (in his renaming to 'Lin'…which means Penis)
*Prabaker had just then decided to like me, and for him that meant he was bound to a scrupulous and literal honesty in everything he said or did. It was at once his most endearing and most irritating quality, that he always told me the whole of the truth.
*I didn’t tell her about it. I wish now with all my heart that I did. The past reflects eternally between two mirrors—the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn’t do or say.
*She looked the world in the eye and stared it down, and I liked that about her because I didn’t love the world then. The world wanted to kill me or catch me. Repression breeds resistance in some men, and I was resisting the world with every minute of my life.
*The world and I are not on speaking terms. The world keeps trying to win me back, but it doesn’t work. I guess I’m just not the forgiving type.
*I knew the determination in her that was almost brutal, and the courage that was almost cruel, and the lonely, angry longing to be loved.
*I was numb, in those first years after my escape: no-one and nothing, could really hurt me. No-one and nothing could make me very happy. I was tough, which is probably the saddest thing you can say about a man.
*You’re a good listener. That’s dangerous, because it’s so hard to resist. Being listened to—really listened to—is the second-best thing in the world. The best thing in the world is power. “What about sex?” No. Apart from biology, sex is all about power. That’s why it’s such a rush. “And what about love?” No. Love is the opposite of power. That’s why we fear it so much.
*Craziness is the basis of every fine relationship.
*Writing was one of the things that saved me: the discipline and abstraction of putting my life into words, every day, helped me to cope with shame and its first cousin, despair.
*There’s no system that’s immune to the misuse of money.
*A man has to draw the line somewhere. Civilization, after all, is defined by what we forbid, more than what we permit.
*When you judge the power that is in a person, you must judge their capacities as both friend and as enemy.
*Friendship is something that gets harder to understand, every damn year of my life. Friendship is like a kind of algebra test that nobody passes. In my worst moods, I think the best you can say is that a friend is anyone you don’t despise.
*Hypocrisy is just another kind of cruelty.
*Truth is a bully we all pretend to like.
*The sea is so frightening that it turns people to stone. You see them standing on the deserted beaches, and staring at the sea—statues, scattered along the beach between cliffs, frozen stiff by the terror they feel when they look at the ocean.
*I think I love America most of all. There’s something so confident and open-hearted and…and brave about America, and the American people. (karla)
*She would’ve done anything for him. Some women are like that. Some loves are like that. Most loves are like that. Your heart starts to feel like an over-crowded lifeboat. You throw your pride out to keep it afloat, and your self-respect and your independence. After a while you start throwing people out—your friends, everyone you used to know. And it’s still not enough. The lifeboat is still sinking, and you know it’s going to take you down with it. I’ve seen that happen to a lot of people. I think that’s why I’m sick of love.
*Magic; the trick that connects the ordinary to the impossible.
*If I wanted to stay there, in the city I’d already fallen in love with, I had to change. The city wouldn’t let me be a watcher, aloof and apart. If I wanted to stay, I had to expect that she would drag me into the river of her rapture, and her rage. Sooner or later, I knew, I would have to step off the pavement and into the bloody crowd, and put my body on the line.
*Sometimes, even with the purest intentions, we make things worse when we do our best to make things better.
*Ask any man with a long-enough experience of prisons, and he’ll tell you that all it takes to harden a man’s heart is a system of justice.
*There’s a truth that’s deeper than experience. It’s beyond what we see, or even what we feel. It’s an order of truth that separates the profound from the merely clever, and the reality from the perception. We’re helpless, usually, in the face of it; and the cost of knowing it, like the cost of knowing love, is sometimes greater than any heart would willingly pay. It doesn’t always help us to love the world, but it does prevent us from hating the world. And the only way to know that truth is to share it, from heart to heart.
*There’s a dark feeling—less than hatred, but more than loathing—that ugly men feel for handsome men. It’s unreasonable and unjustified, of course, but it’s always there. It creeps out, into the light of your eyes, when you’re falling in love with a beautiful woman.
*People who can wear an obsession with panache, always win me over because their honesty speaks directly to my heart.
*Optimism is the first cousin of love, and it’s exactly like love in three ways: it’s pushy, it has no real sense of humor, and it turns up where you least expect it.
*We all have to earn our futures. If we don’t earn it, we don’t have a future at all. And if we don’t earn it, if we don’t deserve it, we have to live in the present, more or less forever. Or worse, we have to live in the past. I think that’s probably what love is—a way of earning the future.
*The facts of life are very simple. In the beginning we feared everything—animals, the weather, the trees, the night sky—everything except each other. Now we fear each other, and almost nothing else. No-one knows why anyone does anything. No-one tells the truth. No-one is happy. No-one is safe. In the face of all that is so wrong with the world, the very worst thing you can do is survive. And yet you must survive. It is this dilemma that makes us believe and cling to the lie that we have a soul, and that there is a God who cares about its fate.
*If you have to ask the question, you have no right to the answer.
*The real trick in life is to want nothing, and to succeed in getting it.
*Wisdom is just cleverness, with all the guts kicked out of it. I’d rather be clever than wise, any day. Most of the wise people I know give me a headache, but I never met a clever man or woman I didn’t like. If I was giving wise advice—which I’m not—I’d say don’t get drunk, don’t spend all your money, and don’t fall in love with a pretty village girl. That would be wise. That’s the difference between clever and wise. I prefer to be clever, and that’s why I told you to surrender, when you get to the village, no matter what you find when you get there.
*When will it be the time? “I think…a little bit almost quite very soon, and not long.” Prab
*There was pride in his face, but he was sad, and tired, and worried. I realized that all farmers, everywhere, are just as tired, worried, proud, and sad: that the soil you turn and the seed you sow are all you have, when you live and work the Earth. And sometimes, much too often, there’s nothing more than that—the silent, secret, heartbreaking joy God puts into things that bloom and grow—to help you face the fear of hunger and dread of evil.
*“He wants you to pat his tummies” No “A few pats only. It won’t bite you, my father’s tummies.” …Sometimes you have to surrender before you win. Surrender is at the heart of the human experience.
*It was there, when another man’s father reached out to comfort me, that I saw and felt the torment of what I’d done, and what I’d become. My heart broke on the shame and sorrow. I suddenly knew how much crying there was in me, and how little love. I knew, at last, how lonely I was. But I couldn’t respond. My culture had taught me all the wrong things so well. So I lay completely still, and gave no reaction at all. But the soul has no culture. The soul has no nations. The soul has no color or accent or way of life. The soul is forever. The soul is one. And when the heart has its moments of truth and sorrow, the soul can’t be stilled.
*One of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.
*She was a woman to admire and to desire, but the message in her eye and her bearing was unmistakable: offend or disesteem her at your peril.
*In that poor and simple village, no-one doubted or forgot that its treasures were its people.
*No happiness exists without its woe, no wealth without its cost, and no life without its full measure, sooner or later, of sorrowing and death.
*Women, with no outlet for their special creativities, endured the long, quiet ruin of their talents. Others watched the slow waste of bright children who could’ve been more and done more in some other, busier place, but never would know more than the village, the fields, and the river.
*If an abundance of good food, laughter, singing, and an amiable disposition can be taken as indicators of well-being and happiness, then the villagers eclipsed their western counterparts in those qualities of life.
*There was a sense of certainty in the village: the certainty emerges when the soil, and the generations who work it, become interchangeable; when the identities of the human beings and the nature of the place are one and the same. Cities are centers of constant and irreversible change. The definitive sound of a city is the rattlesnake chatter of a jackhammer—the warning sound you hear as the business reptile strikes.
*There is a river that runs through every one of us, no matter where we come from, all over the world. It’s the river of the heart, and the heart’s desire. It’s the pure, essential truth of what each one of us is, and can achieve. All my life I’d been a fighter. I was always ready, too ready, to fight for what I loved, and against what I deplored. In the end, I became the expression of that fight, and my real nature was concealed behind a mask of menace and hostility. The message of my face and my body movement was ‘Don’t fuck with me.’ In the end, I became so good at expressing the sentiment that the whole of my life became the message. No one in the village could read my body language…so it didn’t work. They took me as a peaceful man. I was given a chance to reinvent myself, to follow that river within, and become the man I’d always wanted to be. I became: Shantaram ‘man of peace’.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Step 22: New Orleans day 4
New Orleans Day 4:
Weather report for today was all bad. We all stayed in bed watching the news unfold on TV. Forecast predicted rain much worse than yesterday (which was hard to imagine) and on top of rain tornadoes were meant to hit right into New Orleans. Lovely. Dennis and Lynn started discussing what else we could do in New Orleans…meaning they were thinking of not going to the festival. I told them right there that I was not letting the weather report make decisions for me and that I was going no matter what. After all—you all know how I am with money—we’d already paid for our tickets.
I guess I convinced them and after going to get some coffee for them and cocoa for me we got our stuff together and got to the taxi stand. We arrived at the festival around 12 and so far the weather wasn’t bad…a little drizzling at most. We started out watching the Wise Guys—an a'cappella group from Germany. Even though it was hardly raining the amount of mud we had to compete with to stay standing was insane! When it started to rain a little harder we quickly moved into the blues tent for Lil Buck Sinegal who rocked! http://www.myspace.com/lilbucksinegal
We finished the night off watching a group called My Morning Jacket, a somewhat Emo Rock band with a formidable front man vocalist. Wow…he had a very unique and powerful voice and with a blazing red afro I’m sure he has years of success ahead.
http://mymorningjacket.com/
After the show we went back to the hotel and showered and headed downtown to meet up with Dave and Pam for dinner. We lined up outside of Felix’s (which I wasn’t too excited about) but the line never moved. Finally I suggested taking them back to the vegetarian restaurant I’d been to the night before and they agreed. I miscalculated how far of a walk it would be back to ‘The Dragon’s Den’ and everyone was exhausted by the time we got there. Thankfully they all really enjoyed their food and forgave me for the New Orleans walking adventure.
After we ate they all decided to get a taxi back to their hotels but I opted to walk. I took some photos and meandered my way through the quarter until I got back to the hotel.
One of the great things about the Le Pavillon is the mid-night snack they put out for free; Peanut-butter and Jelly sandwiches and hot chocolate. I didn’t make it back in time for the sandwiches…but I did score the last of the hot cocoa which made a fine finish to another—despite reports of hail and tornadoes—wonderful and packed-full day.
Weather report for today was all bad. We all stayed in bed watching the news unfold on TV. Forecast predicted rain much worse than yesterday (which was hard to imagine) and on top of rain tornadoes were meant to hit right into New Orleans. Lovely. Dennis and Lynn started discussing what else we could do in New Orleans…meaning they were thinking of not going to the festival. I told them right there that I was not letting the weather report make decisions for me and that I was going no matter what. After all—you all know how I am with money—we’d already paid for our tickets.
I guess I convinced them and after going to get some coffee for them and cocoa for me we got our stuff together and got to the taxi stand. We arrived at the festival around 12 and so far the weather wasn’t bad…a little drizzling at most. We started out watching the Wise Guys—an a'cappella group from Germany. Even though it was hardly raining the amount of mud we had to compete with to stay standing was insane! When it started to rain a little harder we quickly moved into the blues tent for Lil Buck Sinegal who rocked! http://www.myspace.com/lilbucksinegal
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| Fabulous Blues Tent dancer/dresser |
We stayed in the tent for a bit of Davell Crawford but when we saw the rain was stopping we decided to go back outdoors. I really wanted to see Better Than Ezra who I had been a big fan of back in my High School days—so we headed that way. It was Amazing. So happy I got to see them live! They are a local New Orleans born and breed group so they were loving being up there and just gave a great show. About half way through the sun suddenly came out and the clouds started to disappear…it was unbelievable. The lead singer actually stopped singing, walked out to the edge of the stage, and said “Ladies and Gentleman we have brought out the sun!” It was fabulous. I was reminded of my love for them and my crush on the so cute lead singer!
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| Crowd enjoying and dancing in the new day sun |
Next we crowded our way into a spot to see Simon & Garfunkle. It wasn’t easy to find a place in that enormous mob of people but we finally did—despite the sound not be the greatest where we ended up. Simon & Garfunkle hadn’t performed a complete show together since 1981 or something crazy like that…they had done a few individual songs here and there on TV…but this was a historical event! It was pretty special to be a part of and they even played all of my favorite songs, like “The Only Living Boy in New York” and “Me & Julio.” Pretty amazing.
We finished the night off watching a group called My Morning Jacket, a somewhat Emo Rock band with a formidable front man vocalist. Wow…he had a very unique and powerful voice and with a blazing red afro I’m sure he has years of success ahead.
http://mymorningjacket.com/
After the show we went back to the hotel and showered and headed downtown to meet up with Dave and Pam for dinner. We lined up outside of Felix’s (which I wasn’t too excited about) but the line never moved. Finally I suggested taking them back to the vegetarian restaurant I’d been to the night before and they agreed. I miscalculated how far of a walk it would be back to ‘The Dragon’s Den’ and everyone was exhausted by the time we got there. Thankfully they all really enjoyed their food and forgave me for the New Orleans walking adventure.
 |
| Working the beads and a smile |
After we ate they all decided to get a taxi back to their hotels but I opted to walk. I took some photos and meandered my way through the quarter until I got back to the hotel.
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| Street performers on nearly every corner of this city |
One of the great things about the Le Pavillon is the mid-night snack they put out for free; Peanut-butter and Jelly sandwiches and hot chocolate. I didn’t make it back in time for the sandwiches…but I did score the last of the hot cocoa which made a fine finish to another—despite reports of hail and tornadoes—wonderful and packed-full day.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Step 21: New Orleans Day 3...Jazz Fest!
New Orleans Day 3…Jazz Fest Time!
Like yesterday I woke up early to run. This time was much more comfortable now that I knew the route and wasn’t relying on a map at each turn. Running down Poydras street and then along the Moonwalk…out by Café du Monde and running down Royal street until I took a left on Esplanade. Then left on Dauphine all the way back to the hotel. Early mornings are a nice time in New Orleans. The workers are cleaning, the partiers are walking the streets trying to find their way home, it’s not so hot, and it’s the only time of day for any quiet.
We skipped breakfast opting to go straight to the food as soon as we arrived at the music festival so instead packed our bags and prepared ourselves for the long day. We’d debated again and again about whether to take the Jazz Fest Bus or a taxi to the event but after much discussion decided to go with the cab and after discovering the price…we stuck with the cabs the rest of the week. I think New Orleans is the one city I’ve ever been to where taxi is the cheapest way to go…especially if you have more than one person in your party.
Our cab driver that first day was fascinating and by the time we got out at Gentilly Lane I wanted to cuddle him. He measured everything in miles. For instance when we asked him how many years he’d been driving a cab in New Orleans he said, “I’ve got 50,000 miles in this job.” (meaning 50 years!) When we asked him how old he was, he said, “You don’t even want to know, if I told ya, you may want to get out ‘da cab…I’ve got 84,000 miles on this body!” Adorable!! He grew up in New Orleans, he was married for 50 years, he had 11 siblings all dead except for 1. His oldest sister lived to be 112 and all his other siblings had lived long lives as well so he planned on driving a cab for 3 more years before retiring. When Katrina hit it whipped out his house and everything he had in it…this was in the 9th ward. He’d been living in that same house since he was 34 years old…50 years of his life was swept away. He told us he was rebuilding it because he owned the land. Scared as he was that it might happen again what options did he have?
We made it to the first day of Jazz Fest 2010 around noon. Gentilly Lane! The festival is held at the horse race tracks and the place is HUGE!! 12 stages, food food food booths, arts & crafts—HUGE!! Music comes at you from every direction but our first course of action was food. After hooking up with one of Lynn’s friends the four of us found the food part of the festival. Finally somewhere in New Orleans was catering to vegetarians! Of course they had all the traditional New Orleans food, but also many different kinds of cuisine from all over the world. We certainly enjoyed!
The first show we went to see was Baaba Maal. Baaba Maal is from Senegal and has quite a fascinating story of how he went from destined to be a fisherman to making himself into a world famous musician. It was great. http://www.baabamaal.tv/
We were wandering by the Blues tent just as the rain started coming so we rushed inside and thank god we did. We literally got some of the last seats in the tent; I had to sit separately from Dennis, Lynn and her friend, before it started to POUR! I ended up sitting next a man named Frank who was at the festival alone. He grew up in New Orleans but now lived in California. Every year though, he comes home for Jaz Fest and 2010 was his 25 year attending the festival. What a nice guy. We chatted as the tent—no joke—flooded! It poured outside and it didn’t stop.
We watched Wanda Rouzan and Dwayne Doopsie & the Zydeco Hellraisers for 4 hours and it just kept raining. In those 4 hours people had removed their shoes and rolled up their pants. The water was almost up to the tops of the chairs- it was insane!! Finally the rain was beginning to slow down and I was determined to see the Black Crows-- regardless of the weather—who were playing at one of the outdoor stages. I convinced Dennis and Lynn to go out into it with me and man had the look of the festival changed during the 4 hours we’d been safe inside. MUD MUD MUD…Out of control MUD. People were barefoot, mud on their fronts, mud on their backs. People were falling in the mud wearing khaki pants and dresses. Oh my lord.
We slowly made our way from one end of the festival to the other and got our own fair share of the mud on ourselves. But once the Black Crows started it was all worth it. They were amazing. The Robinson brothers are true rockers and my respect for them was seriously elevated seeing them live…they know how to perform. Even to a crowd covered in mud, wet to the bone, and jammed together side by side the Black Crows had every person there feeling it. http://www.blackcrowes.com/2010/
After that I started texting my friend, Doug about getting together later that night and he offered to come pick us up from the show. I warned him that we were a total mess but he said he’d head our way and would see us soon. Lynn friend headed to her car and was gonna meet us at the hotel so we headed out to where Doug was picking us up. The traffic was of course insane but finally we saw his Toyota Prius pull up. Wet and a messy we jumped in and headed back to the hotel.
Doug and I have known each other for 10 years. After I yelled out to him from a car window that I loved him—he somehow ended up as my senior prom date and from there the story goes on to eventually us being good friends. It was great to see him. He has become one of those people in my life I can depend on to challenge me. He was living in New Orleans going to school at Tulane in one of the most depressing majors I can think of: National Security or some such thing. He took me to a friend of his restaurant that was at the end of the quarter on Esplanade called ‘The Dragon’s Den.’ It is a vegan restaurant which becomes a music club late night in New Orleans and it was so good. After dinner he took me to see the house he’d bought and planned on developing. It was an old house on a big lot which he wanted to use to start his greenhouse and permaculture dream.
I’m really proud of him. After visiting with him and his crazy dog for a while he took me back to the hotel and I feel into a very deep sleep hoping that tomorrow weather might be a bit better.
Like yesterday I woke up early to run. This time was much more comfortable now that I knew the route and wasn’t relying on a map at each turn. Running down Poydras street and then along the Moonwalk…out by Café du Monde and running down Royal street until I took a left on Esplanade. Then left on Dauphine all the way back to the hotel. Early mornings are a nice time in New Orleans. The workers are cleaning, the partiers are walking the streets trying to find their way home, it’s not so hot, and it’s the only time of day for any quiet.
We skipped breakfast opting to go straight to the food as soon as we arrived at the music festival so instead packed our bags and prepared ourselves for the long day. We’d debated again and again about whether to take the Jazz Fest Bus or a taxi to the event but after much discussion decided to go with the cab and after discovering the price…we stuck with the cabs the rest of the week. I think New Orleans is the one city I’ve ever been to where taxi is the cheapest way to go…especially if you have more than one person in your party.
Our cab driver that first day was fascinating and by the time we got out at Gentilly Lane I wanted to cuddle him. He measured everything in miles. For instance when we asked him how many years he’d been driving a cab in New Orleans he said, “I’ve got 50,000 miles in this job.” (meaning 50 years!) When we asked him how old he was, he said, “You don’t even want to know, if I told ya, you may want to get out ‘da cab…I’ve got 84,000 miles on this body!” Adorable!! He grew up in New Orleans, he was married for 50 years, he had 11 siblings all dead except for 1. His oldest sister lived to be 112 and all his other siblings had lived long lives as well so he planned on driving a cab for 3 more years before retiring. When Katrina hit it whipped out his house and everything he had in it…this was in the 9th ward. He’d been living in that same house since he was 34 years old…50 years of his life was swept away. He told us he was rebuilding it because he owned the land. Scared as he was that it might happen again what options did he have?
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| Lynn and Dennis at the Jazz fest entrance...day started out with blue skies that didn't last for long |
We made it to the first day of Jazz Fest 2010 around noon. Gentilly Lane! The festival is held at the horse race tracks and the place is HUGE!! 12 stages, food food food booths, arts & crafts—HUGE!! Music comes at you from every direction but our first course of action was food. After hooking up with one of Lynn’s friends the four of us found the food part of the festival. Finally somewhere in New Orleans was catering to vegetarians! Of course they had all the traditional New Orleans food, but also many different kinds of cuisine from all over the world. We certainly enjoyed!
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| Just a small view of the food area |
The first show we went to see was Baaba Maal. Baaba Maal is from Senegal and has quite a fascinating story of how he went from destined to be a fisherman to making himself into a world famous musician. It was great. http://www.baabamaal.tv/
We were wandering by the Blues tent just as the rain started coming so we rushed inside and thank god we did. We literally got some of the last seats in the tent; I had to sit separately from Dennis, Lynn and her friend, before it started to POUR! I ended up sitting next a man named Frank who was at the festival alone. He grew up in New Orleans but now lived in California. Every year though, he comes home for Jaz Fest and 2010 was his 25 year attending the festival. What a nice guy. We chatted as the tent—no joke—flooded! It poured outside and it didn’t stop.
 |
| Dry inside the Blues Tent |
We slowly made our way from one end of the festival to the other and got our own fair share of the mud on ourselves. But once the Black Crows started it was all worth it. They were amazing. The Robinson brothers are true rockers and my respect for them was seriously elevated seeing them live…they know how to perform. Even to a crowd covered in mud, wet to the bone, and jammed together side by side the Black Crows had every person there feeling it. http://www.blackcrowes.com/2010/
After that I started texting my friend, Doug about getting together later that night and he offered to come pick us up from the show. I warned him that we were a total mess but he said he’d head our way and would see us soon. Lynn friend headed to her car and was gonna meet us at the hotel so we headed out to where Doug was picking us up. The traffic was of course insane but finally we saw his Toyota Prius pull up. Wet and a messy we jumped in and headed back to the hotel.
When we got there Lynn’s friend was waiting and we all headed up to the hotel room. The three of them were gonna go out to dinner and I was gonna head out with Doug. In the elevator Lynn’s friend tried to figure out who Doug was. “Oh is this your brother?” When I said no she immediately said, “Oh, your husband…your boyfriend?” When I explained he was just a friend she pointed out that we both had dark curly hair and green eyes- which is why she thought we were siblings. It was pretty funny. In the room I threw on a pair of jeans and some clean socks and shoes…grabbed a bag and Doug and I said ‘see ya later.’ In the elevator on the way down we both had quite a laugh about the idea of being siblings all things considered.
 |
| My brother Doug. |
I’m really proud of him. After visiting with him and his crazy dog for a while he took me back to the hotel and I feel into a very deep sleep hoping that tomorrow weather might be a bit better.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Step 20: New Orleans day 2
New Orleans: Day 2
I really appreciate that Lynn and Dennis let me share a room with them at the Le Pavillon. It was a good opportunity for me to bond with Lynn. I have never exactly bonded with any of Dennis’ girlfriends for one reason or another. Either I thought they were too young, too crazy, or that he just wasn’t serious enough for me to take the time. But Lynn was none of these things and for the first time I saw Dennis really in love. She is a cool lady and I found it easy to connect with her which isn’t exactly the norm for me.
The three of us woke up on Thursday morning and headed to ‘Mother’s’ restaurant right down the road—Poydras Street—from the hotel. http://mothersrestaurant.net/index.html
Mother’s is another New Orleans institution, having opened its doors in 1938 and thriving ever since. One of its mottos is: “Nobody gets treated better (or worse) than anybody else. Everybody gets fed. Everybody comes back.” The line was out the door and we waited to make our order. Although the setting was wonderful, I was again finding famous New Orleans establishments weren’t quite what a picky vegetarian like me was looking for and I ended up with one biscuit. Dennis and Lynn on the other hand were quite satisfied.
After breakfast we went back to the room and got ourselves ready to head out. We had decided to go to the New Orleans Audubon Park via the St. Charles Streetcar. The St. Charles Streetcar is the oldest continuously running streetcar in the world having begun operation in 1835! We jumped on and watched the beautiful day: the streetcar goes by the garden district, Loyola University, and Tulane University before we jumped off at the entrance to the Audubon Park.
We walked and walked; climbed trees with endless branches, found colorful caterpillars and beautiful birds. And then I suddenly found myself under attack. My feet were under attack. I was wearing flip flops and they itched like mad. Sure I’m used to being itchy having had eczema all my life, but this was madness. They were inflamed and swollen and I knew I had to do something about it…where was my benadryl??!!
Since we were nearly through with our walk we got back on the Streetcar and headed back to the hotel. For as much as I loved the streetcar on the way there, I was exasperated by how slow it was on the way back. Once in the room I quickly located my benadryl, took a couple, and soaked my feet in the tub. It was about 1 o’clock.
1 o’clock Thursday. Wednesday morning before I got on the flight I had breakfast at home around 9am. Since then all I had eaten was a 7up (dranken?) and 1 biscuit. I was famished. I needed some food and fast. I went down to the concierge and asked if there were any ‘Whole Foods’ in New Orleans and he gave me directions and public transportation options to get there. I said 'sayonara' to Dennis and Lynn and hopped on the bus. About an hour later I found myself in that glorious place and promptly located the extensive salad bar where I dove in. It is never good to arrive at ‘Whole Foods’ starving. $45 of salad bar and groceries later I was back on the bus.
I found Dennis and Lynn sunbathing on the roof of the hotel next to the pool. That has to be one of the best things about the Le Pavillon. Roof top pool/Jacuzzi. I joined them and we had a relaxing afternoon/ early evening. When we finally got ourselves dressed and ready to do anything it was already 8:30pm. We called Dave and Pam, who had already eaten dinner, and connected with them in the quarter. We all settled down in a quiet restaurant where Dennis and Lynn at dinner and the rest of us ate dessert.
Dennis and Dave were set and excited to go to a place called “Rock & Bowl” which both of them had been to in the past and loved. However, during Katrina the original ‘Rock & Bowl’ (bowling alley opened in 1941…music was added in 1988) was destroyed and so this would be the first time to the new place for all of us. We found a cab and arrived at around 10:30pm. From what Dennis and Dave remembered of the old place it usually cost from $5-10 bucks to get into and we were all up for it.
http://www.rockandbowl.com/Historypage/history.html
We arrived after—what we all assumed was—a long money hungry cab ride. That annoyed us all for a second but when we heard the music we were jumping into the building. When the lady at the front told us it was $25 per person all of our mouths dropped to the floor. We couldn’t believe it! That doesn’t even include any bowling. There we had just taken all the time to get there and now we were trying to decide if it was worth going in. Dave finally stepped up and offered to pay $80 of the $125 for all 5 of us if Dennis would pay the rest. Hesitantly we all got our wrist bands and went in.
Initially shaking off the cost was making it hard to ease into the fun that we should have been having but eventually that wore off and everyone was on the dance floor. It was a blast! I love dancing with my dad’s best friends. Dancing is something his group really loves and is good at.
Since we were 5 one of the girls was having to sit out and the funniest thing was when this short (maybe 5ft flat) latino young (maybe 25 at the most) man asked Lynn to dance while I was dancing with Dennis. The funny thing is that Lynn is about 6ft 1’. We all gave him credit for asking her; Lynn even said it’s pretty rare that she gets asked to dance at all, non-the-less by someone so much shorter than her. So good on him!
We were there til the music stopped and our cab ride home was a quarter of the time (confirming what we’d thought about our cabbie from before). Thank you to Dave and Dennis for footing the zydeco dancing night bill. Off to bed -- tomorrow Jazz Fest starts!
I really appreciate that Lynn and Dennis let me share a room with them at the Le Pavillon. It was a good opportunity for me to bond with Lynn. I have never exactly bonded with any of Dennis’ girlfriends for one reason or another. Either I thought they were too young, too crazy, or that he just wasn’t serious enough for me to take the time. But Lynn was none of these things and for the first time I saw Dennis really in love. She is a cool lady and I found it easy to connect with her which isn’t exactly the norm for me.
The three of us woke up on Thursday morning and headed to ‘Mother’s’ restaurant right down the road—Poydras Street—from the hotel. http://mothersrestaurant.net/index.html
Mother’s is another New Orleans institution, having opened its doors in 1938 and thriving ever since. One of its mottos is: “Nobody gets treated better (or worse) than anybody else. Everybody gets fed. Everybody comes back.” The line was out the door and we waited to make our order. Although the setting was wonderful, I was again finding famous New Orleans establishments weren’t quite what a picky vegetarian like me was looking for and I ended up with one biscuit. Dennis and Lynn on the other hand were quite satisfied.
After breakfast we went back to the room and got ourselves ready to head out. We had decided to go to the New Orleans Audubon Park via the St. Charles Streetcar. The St. Charles Streetcar is the oldest continuously running streetcar in the world having begun operation in 1835! We jumped on and watched the beautiful day: the streetcar goes by the garden district, Loyola University, and Tulane University before we jumped off at the entrance to the Audubon Park.
 |
| Lynn and Dennis on the St. Charles Streetcar |
We walked and walked; climbed trees with endless branches, found colorful caterpillars and beautiful birds. And then I suddenly found myself under attack. My feet were under attack. I was wearing flip flops and they itched like mad. Sure I’m used to being itchy having had eczema all my life, but this was madness. They were inflamed and swollen and I knew I had to do something about it…where was my benadryl??!!
Since we were nearly through with our walk we got back on the Streetcar and headed back to the hotel. For as much as I loved the streetcar on the way there, I was exasperated by how slow it was on the way back. Once in the room I quickly located my benadryl, took a couple, and soaked my feet in the tub. It was about 1 o’clock.
1 o’clock Thursday. Wednesday morning before I got on the flight I had breakfast at home around 9am. Since then all I had eaten was a 7up (dranken?) and 1 biscuit. I was famished. I needed some food and fast. I went down to the concierge and asked if there were any ‘Whole Foods’ in New Orleans and he gave me directions and public transportation options to get there. I said 'sayonara' to Dennis and Lynn and hopped on the bus. About an hour later I found myself in that glorious place and promptly located the extensive salad bar where I dove in. It is never good to arrive at ‘Whole Foods’ starving. $45 of salad bar and groceries later I was back on the bus.
I found Dennis and Lynn sunbathing on the roof of the hotel next to the pool. That has to be one of the best things about the Le Pavillon. Roof top pool/Jacuzzi. I joined them and we had a relaxing afternoon/ early evening. When we finally got ourselves dressed and ready to do anything it was already 8:30pm. We called Dave and Pam, who had already eaten dinner, and connected with them in the quarter. We all settled down in a quiet restaurant where Dennis and Lynn at dinner and the rest of us ate dessert.
 |
| Me lounging in a sofa - waiting for my dessert to come |
Dennis and Dave were set and excited to go to a place called “Rock & Bowl” which both of them had been to in the past and loved. However, during Katrina the original ‘Rock & Bowl’ (bowling alley opened in 1941…music was added in 1988) was destroyed and so this would be the first time to the new place for all of us. We found a cab and arrived at around 10:30pm. From what Dennis and Dave remembered of the old place it usually cost from $5-10 bucks to get into and we were all up for it.
http://www.rockandbowl.com/Historypage/history.html
We arrived after—what we all assumed was—a long money hungry cab ride. That annoyed us all for a second but when we heard the music we were jumping into the building. When the lady at the front told us it was $25 per person all of our mouths dropped to the floor. We couldn’t believe it! That doesn’t even include any bowling. There we had just taken all the time to get there and now we were trying to decide if it was worth going in. Dave finally stepped up and offered to pay $80 of the $125 for all 5 of us if Dennis would pay the rest. Hesitantly we all got our wrist bands and went in.
 |
| Rock'n some Zydeco at the Rock'n Bowl |
Initially shaking off the cost was making it hard to ease into the fun that we should have been having but eventually that wore off and everyone was on the dance floor. It was a blast! I love dancing with my dad’s best friends. Dancing is something his group really loves and is good at.
 |
| Dave and Pam swingin- and making it look good! |
 |
| Lynn and Dennis...look at the love in his eyes!! |
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Step 19: Heading to New Orleans
Heading to New Orleans:
The next couple of days after my return from Moab--I spent packing; packing for what would be a nearly 4 week trip to New Orleans, Florida, Philadelphia, and New York City. I bought the ticket for this trip back in September even before I had decided to renew my contract in Japan. I bought it so many months early because I’d been browsing kayak.com and found it for such a good deal. Four legs of a trip: 1. Aspen to New Orleans, 2. New Orleans to Tampa, FL, 3. Tampa, FL to NYC, 4. NYC to Aspen all for $710. I saw it and booked it.
Of course when you buy a ticket that many months in advance complications are going to arise. For instance I decided to return to Japan therefore leaving me less time in Aspen then I would spend traveling (which caused a bit of controversy cause my dad was feeling like I wasn’t giving him enough time). One of my aunts who I was going to visit in Florida moved to New Mexico and now I didn’t have time to go visit her. One of the people I thought I’d be staying with in New York had to cancel cause of other commitments that came up. In the end, however, all of these slights didn’t stop me and stage one of my trip—New Orleans—would soon be on the go.
I headed out of Aspen on Wednesday April 21st in the late morning after my dad dropped me off at the airport. Even traveling for 4 weeks I was determined to do the trip with only carry on luggage because of the new check luggage fees. After a change in Denver and Houston I finally arrived in New Orleans at about 4pm. I got on the shuttle and headed into the city.
I had not been to New Orleans since before Hurricane Katrina. My dad and I drove through and stopped in New Orleans on our road trip from Florida—home after I graduated from college. This was in May of 2005, a few months before the devastation. When we were there I was overwhelmed by the smells; the smells of piss, shit, and endless trash; the smells of fried food and powdered sugar; the smells the street and air combining with the smells of the people couldn’t be beaten down by any good smell that was cooking. That’s what I remembered.
As we drove into the city I was skeptical about how the next 5 days were gonna go. The hotel I was staying at was the first stop for the shuttle. As we pulled up to the Le Pavillon my jaw dropped at the beauty of it. I couldn’t believe this was where I would be staying, and it seemed no one else in the shuttle could believe I would be staying there either. http://www.lepavillon.com/
Le Pavillon was built in 1907 and both the building and property itself have a fascinating place in New Orleans history. http://www.lepavillon.com/history.htm
Before I’d even bought my plane ticket the original spark to even look into the ticket was when I started talking to my ‘uncle/godfather’ Dennis about going to New Orleans Jazz fest together. He has been a New Orleans Jazz fest regular for years and I always have told him I wanted to go…finally I was determined to make it happened. When he agreed that’s when I started looking into flights. Because we booked so early he was also able to book us into Le Pavillon, his favorite New Orleans hotel.
He and his girlfriend, Lynn, arrived into New Orleans the day before me and we made plans to meet at a ‘music in the park’ upon my arrival that afternoon. So once I was given my key, bags into the room, changed, and found Dennis’ direction to the park I headed out on foot. I didn’t have to go far, I spotted Lafayette Square soon after I heard the music.
I started looking for Dennis, as I had never met Lynn, in the massive crowd. I figured, of course, that he would be somewhere near the front dancing. After scanning the crowd a few times with no luck I suddenly saw a familiar face that wasn’t Dennis’. It was one of my other ‘uncle’s,’ Dave! I was so surprised! Right there with him was his wife Pam. I walked over to them in such shock that it took me giving them a hug before I even realized there was Dennis too!
A little background on these ‘uncles’ of mine. Of course they aren’t my blood related uncles, but honestly they’ve been such constant figures in my life that I do consider them my family. They are my dad’s best friends. Dennis was also our babysitter on multiple occasions when our parents went away. When my sister and I were given a choice about who we would want as our babysitter we shouted out “DENNIS!!!” We considered him family but we also love him like a friend. Dave, Pam, and their 5 (yes 5) daughters have also been apart of this side of our family for as long as I can remember.
And now I was there with them in New Orleans dancing away…this part of my family loves music and loves to dance! The music, by the way, was amazing. The girl on the stage—Amanda Shaw—is all but 19 years old but was rocking it harder than Sheryl Crow. http://www.amandashaw.com/fr_home.cfm
She’s a fiddler who captivates the stage with her voice, personality, and of course bad ass fiddle sessions. The girl has been touring professionally since she was 8 years old and it shows. She knows how to command an audience and being a New Orleans native her fans were out in mass supporting her. It was an awesome way to start my first hour in the BIG EASY.
The show finished around 7pm and we headed into the heart of the city to meet up with one of Dennis’ friends and to get some food. We went to Felix’s Oyster Bar, a famous New Orleans establishment since the early 1900’s. http://www.felixs.com/?page_id=10
Famous as it may be, it offers people like me literally no options. My attempts to make alterations to their menu (I asked for a stuffed bake potato ‘unstuffed’ but the things are pre-made) provided me no luck so I ended up with a 7’up.
After dinner we walked the streets and headed to another New Orleans landmark—Café du Monde. http://www.cafedumonde.com/
The café was established in 1862 and is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It is the reliable source for caffeine and sugar (coffee and beignets) in New Orleans. I wasn’t about to have either—after the others ordered theirs we headed over the tracks onto the Moonwalk. The Moonwalk is just a walking path that looks out onto the water, we found a few benches…it must have been around midnight at this point…and chatted away.
Finally the long hot day hit us and we said our good nights. Dave and Pam headed to their hotel, Dennis’ friend headed home, and Dennis, Lynn and I walked back to our cozy hotel room. New Orleans day one…and all I was smelling was fun.
The next couple of days after my return from Moab--I spent packing; packing for what would be a nearly 4 week trip to New Orleans, Florida, Philadelphia, and New York City. I bought the ticket for this trip back in September even before I had decided to renew my contract in Japan. I bought it so many months early because I’d been browsing kayak.com and found it for such a good deal. Four legs of a trip: 1. Aspen to New Orleans, 2. New Orleans to Tampa, FL, 3. Tampa, FL to NYC, 4. NYC to Aspen all for $710. I saw it and booked it.
Of course when you buy a ticket that many months in advance complications are going to arise. For instance I decided to return to Japan therefore leaving me less time in Aspen then I would spend traveling (which caused a bit of controversy cause my dad was feeling like I wasn’t giving him enough time). One of my aunts who I was going to visit in Florida moved to New Mexico and now I didn’t have time to go visit her. One of the people I thought I’d be staying with in New York had to cancel cause of other commitments that came up. In the end, however, all of these slights didn’t stop me and stage one of my trip—New Orleans—would soon be on the go.
 |
| The view from above--Cruising Burbon Street |
I headed out of Aspen on Wednesday April 21st in the late morning after my dad dropped me off at the airport. Even traveling for 4 weeks I was determined to do the trip with only carry on luggage because of the new check luggage fees. After a change in Denver and Houston I finally arrived in New Orleans at about 4pm. I got on the shuttle and headed into the city.
I had not been to New Orleans since before Hurricane Katrina. My dad and I drove through and stopped in New Orleans on our road trip from Florida—home after I graduated from college. This was in May of 2005, a few months before the devastation. When we were there I was overwhelmed by the smells; the smells of piss, shit, and endless trash; the smells of fried food and powdered sugar; the smells the street and air combining with the smells of the people couldn’t be beaten down by any good smell that was cooking. That’s what I remembered.
As we drove into the city I was skeptical about how the next 5 days were gonna go. The hotel I was staying at was the first stop for the shuttle. As we pulled up to the Le Pavillon my jaw dropped at the beauty of it. I couldn’t believe this was where I would be staying, and it seemed no one else in the shuttle could believe I would be staying there either. http://www.lepavillon.com/
Le Pavillon was built in 1907 and both the building and property itself have a fascinating place in New Orleans history. http://www.lepavillon.com/history.htm
Before I’d even bought my plane ticket the original spark to even look into the ticket was when I started talking to my ‘uncle/godfather’ Dennis about going to New Orleans Jazz fest together. He has been a New Orleans Jazz fest regular for years and I always have told him I wanted to go…finally I was determined to make it happened. When he agreed that’s when I started looking into flights. Because we booked so early he was also able to book us into Le Pavillon, his favorite New Orleans hotel.
 |
| Dennis working on the foundation of my parents new house...he is MR. FIX and BUILD it. |
He and his girlfriend, Lynn, arrived into New Orleans the day before me and we made plans to meet at a ‘music in the park’ upon my arrival that afternoon. So once I was given my key, bags into the room, changed, and found Dennis’ direction to the park I headed out on foot. I didn’t have to go far, I spotted Lafayette Square soon after I heard the music.
I started looking for Dennis, as I had never met Lynn, in the massive crowd. I figured, of course, that he would be somewhere near the front dancing. After scanning the crowd a few times with no luck I suddenly saw a familiar face that wasn’t Dennis’. It was one of my other ‘uncle’s,’ Dave! I was so surprised! Right there with him was his wife Pam. I walked over to them in such shock that it took me giving them a hug before I even realized there was Dennis too!
A little background on these ‘uncles’ of mine. Of course they aren’t my blood related uncles, but honestly they’ve been such constant figures in my life that I do consider them my family. They are my dad’s best friends. Dennis was also our babysitter on multiple occasions when our parents went away. When my sister and I were given a choice about who we would want as our babysitter we shouted out “DENNIS!!!” We considered him family but we also love him like a friend. Dave, Pam, and their 5 (yes 5) daughters have also been apart of this side of our family for as long as I can remember.
 |
| The Montoya Crew |
She’s a fiddler who captivates the stage with her voice, personality, and of course bad ass fiddle sessions. The girl has been touring professionally since she was 8 years old and it shows. She knows how to command an audience and being a New Orleans native her fans were out in mass supporting her. It was an awesome way to start my first hour in the BIG EASY.
The show finished around 7pm and we headed into the heart of the city to meet up with one of Dennis’ friends and to get some food. We went to Felix’s Oyster Bar, a famous New Orleans establishment since the early 1900’s. http://www.felixs.com/?page_id=10
 |
| Standing in line outside of Felix's |
Famous as it may be, it offers people like me literally no options. My attempts to make alterations to their menu (I asked for a stuffed bake potato ‘unstuffed’ but the things are pre-made) provided me no luck so I ended up with a 7’up.
After dinner we walked the streets and headed to another New Orleans landmark—Café du Monde. http://www.cafedumonde.com/
The café was established in 1862 and is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It is the reliable source for caffeine and sugar (coffee and beignets) in New Orleans. I wasn’t about to have either—after the others ordered theirs we headed over the tracks onto the Moonwalk. The Moonwalk is just a walking path that looks out onto the water, we found a few benches…it must have been around midnight at this point…and chatted away.
Finally the long hot day hit us and we said our good nights. Dave and Pam headed to their hotel, Dennis’ friend headed home, and Dennis, Lynn and I walked back to our cozy hotel room. New Orleans day one…and all I was smelling was fun.
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