Hey Friend!

Here's somethign that I just can't stand. When you're walking down the street, these random people, sometimes store people, other times just bored people, will shout out after you've already walked by 'Hey Friend!' as they try to get your attention. 'Hello... hello,' they continue to holler as you ignore them and walk on by.

My issue with this is that, number one, you're talking to my back. Why wait till I walk by. Why not say 'hello' to my face. Only shady people talk behind someone's back. And I've got places to go, things to paint, so I don't want to have to turn around and say 'what do you want?' When most of the time, all they want is for you to spend your money in thier shop or to ask you the same mundane questions: What's your name, what's your country, how much money do you make a month.

The second issue is that the person is not really my friend. I don't even know them. I pick and choose my friends carefully. I don't just befriend anyone. I'm nice to everyone, but my friends are in a different category. My friends I can see everyday for a year, and then not show up for two years and when I return they will welcome me as if no time passed at all. That's the beauty of friendship.

I think Indians just like throwing the word 'friend' around cause it's familiar and friendly. In the states people throw around the word 'brother.' What's up Bro? What's going on brother? etc etc. And that's just as annoying.

I've fallen into that trap at times before, but I'm really lying. I know in the world we live in we are all 'brothers and sisters' in one sense or another, but I only have one brother. It might be different if you were raised in a family that had four siblings or more, but in mine there were two of us. So the bond is a little different. To put someone else in the same category as my brother is to lessen the status that my brother holds in my eyes.

So the next time some clown calls out to you, 'Hey friend, come into my shop and spend your money' Turn around and punch him in the face, knock his stack of postcards in the dirty gutter and ask him if he's still your friend. And the next time someone says 'Hey bro.' Ask him to give you two thousand dollars and you'll quickly find out who you're real brothers are.

SCRAM!

Yesterday I was out painting down some old street. I was near this tourist spot (The Patwon Havelli) so I ended up meeting with the shoe shiner kids who are really cool. Between the three of them, they had one pack of life saver type candies. The one kid who was opening it offered me one, and then the other two kids each offered me one as well. I said one was enough, but they each wanted to give me one. I thought that was pretty generous of them. It seems easier to give if you have lots of stuff, but it's much more genuine if you don't have anything.

Later this big group of school kids came by. They were probably in elementary school and they were as annoying as they could be. Loud, obnoxious, asking stupid questions and then repeating these stupid questions. It was quite irratating and normally I can deal with crowds while I'm painting.

One of these annoying children offered me a piece of candy, but I was already chewing one, so I just laid it on my lap. Eventually these annoying brats left and I offered the candy to one of these mellow respectful shoe shiners, none of them wanted it, so we just threw it in the gutter. I didn't want it cause I dont' feel like taking things from people that annoy me but I was impressed that the shoe shiners didn't want it since they dont' have anything.

A while later, we are all sitting there watching me paint and this old hag lady comes around the corner with another guy - possibly her son or something. The guy starts yelling at the kids telling them to get off the porch. Then the old lady yells at me and tells me to get off the porch. Then she retracts her statement and asks if I have any money. Indicating that if I do, I can stay. I say no, and she just yells for me to scram.

I was totally suprised by this, cause most people are pretty cool when I'm out painting. It was a good reminder that not everyone in the world is cool. After the old bat, yells at me, I start to pack up my things. Of course I do this as slowly as possible. I try to be as careful and delibrate as possible. Each move is slow and cautious. With my brush, I delicately clean it off in the water, slowly dry off the excess water on my towel, then straighten out the bristles making sure the entire brush is in perfect condition. I've never taken that long to pack up all my things in my life. Normally I'm like, 'bing, bang, boom, done. Let's go.' But like I said, this lady was irritating to me, so I was obnoxious in return. I can be such an ass sometimes when I want to be.

It's time to go

Well I've been here in Jaislamer for almost three weeks. It's a pretty small town to be here for that long and I'm thinking it's now time to head on out.

When I first arrived, I could walk anywhere I felt like it. Then after a little while, I started walking down different streets to avoid pleasent conversations with good people or annoying talks with boring people. Now it seems I can't walk anywhere without seeing someone I've talked with before. The other night it took me two hours to walk back to the hotel from where I was painting.

I think being a painter, I get treated a little different the most people. Usually a little more respectfully. I'm still not exactly sure why that is just yet. Painting is cool and all, but if people liked it so much why don't they buy art or paint themselves?

I think some of the respect comes from the fact that I'm just content in my chilling. I'm not trying to find some excitement, I'm not trying to get drunk, I'm not wasting time with silly conversations, I'm just being. Just sitting there and looking. When someone sees someone else happy, it makes the first person happy. When someone sees someone else content and peaceful, it brings some peace into thier lives. But I really don't know, and I'm still wondering about it all myself.

The way things are

As I was painting today, I was showing this kid my sketch book. There were quite a few people around me. The kid was a shoe shiner who was deaf. There are two of these kids and this one is different from the one in the previous story, but this one is actually even cooler with an even better attitude. He was looking through my sketch book when this other guy reached over to look at it. I grabbed it and said that he could look at it when this kid was finished. But when I tried to hand the kid back my book, he had already took off and was waving back with a smile as he walked away. I then gave the book to the other guy.

That shoe shiner kid was used to getting stepped on. (No pun intended) His life was one of always being at the back of the line and having last choice and leftovers. I tried to give him a little equality, but he was so used to being pushed out of the way that he didn't bother even trying. Things are the way they are, and I can't change that. Every country has it's problems and issues, just like every individual has his problems and issues. That only makes sense, since countries are only made up of individuals anyway. One simple artist can't change the ways of the worlds, but they can change me and make me appreciate things in a different light. And by these changes in myself, I can hopefully pass on a little positivity to those I come across. I can't make a shoe shiner the president of some corporation, but I can at least make his day.

Rich Guy / Poor Guy

Today I went and painted by the Patwon Havelli again. I've been painting here every so often because the views are nice and eventhough it's a major tourist attraction, I can still find some shady seats where I can paint in peace.

One problem about this spot is this annoying Indian guy who lives nearby. I don't know his name, but I know his sister is Hemleta. She's really sweet. One day I was paintnig there and Ashlee was sitting next to me, and Hemleta invited Ash in and they hung out, drank chai and Hemleta gave Ash and beautiful red sari and showed how to wear it and basically do a bunch of girl stuff.

Hemleta's brother is an oaf. He kept bugging me about me giving him a painting. I told him he could buy one I said $200 USD. He's replied, 'oh 200 rupees? Here you go..." Then he went on and on and on. So today when I went back and was painting a different view of the havelli, he showed up. Today he was more annoying then before. 'Give me, give me give me' was his basic conversation. It was obvious this guy had tons of money, he lived in one of these intricately carved, beautiful havelli's, his clothes were clean and pressed and he had that 'I've got money' attitude that's easy to spot on people.

I tried to tell him that this was my job. I'd be happy to give him a print of it, if he liked. But this wasn't good enough for him - only an orginal. His arrogance and greed annoyed me to the point that I was going to start being rude, but since his sister was Ashlee's friend, I held in my negative response.

Later that day, when I was out walking around looking for that guy getting married, I came across another guy I see daily. He's a young kid whose deaf and spends his days shining shoes. I always smile and we sign language with each other and say hello and I can tell he's cool. As I was walking around he was sitting drinking chai and he motioned for me to sit down with him. At first, I was declined, but then I said ok. And we sat down and I ordered a chai. After we drank it, he totally caught me off guard by offering to pay for my chai. I was like, 'no no no' please, let me. but he insisted again. I eventually overruled him, and paid for both though.

Now here's this kid who makes his living off of other people's generosity. Shining shoes seems like a hard job. In India, where people throw thier trash on the road and cows poop everywhere, I'm sure it's as bad as it gets. He's as poor as you can get, doing a crappy job, but he's got a great attitude. To top it all off, he wanted to pay for my chai. That one simple gesture made up for all the other times these annoying children wouldn't shut up about asking for "one school pen? one chocolate?"

Thinking back on the situation, I should have let him pay for my chai. Not because I didn't have the money, but because he wanted to. He wanted to share. People like buying chai for other people, it's a sign of friendship. In the long run, I would have made up for it by buying him some samosa's and other food anyway. So I think next time, I'll let him get the chai. That five rupee's he spent on the chai, was nothing compared to the feeling and satisfaction of sharing a tea with a friend as an equal. I think that is priceless and in India, in his position a situation like that is hard to come by.

Now if we compare this cool kid, with this other fat f*ck who just begs like a street rat for painting that he doesn't really care about. I think he just wants it, just because. It shows two different types of people living in two different types of world. Since I can chose my company, I'll chose the deaf shoe shiner anyday.

Lets' talk about life

I've noticed since I've been here that many people just like talking about living as compared to living life. Some people talk all spiritual and it sounds as if they have thier life dialed. They do good for strangers, they're nice to poor people, etc. I find this chatter annoying at times.

Why not live life and not talk about living life. Just do what is right, don't talk about doing what you think is right. Sometimes, I'm nice to poor people, sometimes I'm not. For instance, I was painting today and this group of young adults came up to me and asked for some money. I was like, 'chello' (go in hindi) leave me alone. I assumed they were like these fake sadus that run around asking for backsheesh. Real sadu's (religious men) don't bother tourists jingling cans of coins. Real sadu's are too busy being religious.

So I disregarded these guys, but then one of the guys I know who was hanging out watching me paint, explained to me that it's a wedding and I should give five rupees. So I did. Then he explained to me, that the guy getting married was poor and that's how it was done around there. In families where the people have money, the family gives the newly weds cash, but in this case, he walks around town and does it. Needless to say, I felt a little bad, so I wandered around looking for him, to give him a little more.

As I was wandering around, I came across part of the wedding procession. In India, the groom rides around on a horse with loud music and a band before he heads over to the brides house. The group that was part of the wedding procession seemed funny at first.

They were dressed up in dirty old marching band uniforms, with some beat up dusty drums, pushing this heavy cart up this steep hill and having a terrible time of it. Their uniforms were half hanging off and none of them fit. The cart was falling backwards and they just seemed like one motley crew. I chuckled at the scene, but then thought about how it was kinda sad cause they were poor and doing the best they could for this celebration.

Mentally I compared it to a rich family who go through all this pomp and ceremony, but in reality thier procession is just the same as this poor family, but with more western glitz and glamor. Clean uniforms and shiney shoes don't make the wedding today, what makes it is friends and good company. This dirty looking group who were struggling to push up this cart, were laughing and joking the whole way up. Life is in the attitude of the people, not in anything else. Thier attitude was great, mine wasn't, but I changed it for the better.

I can talk about how I know how to live life and do right and be a great person, but we all make mistakes. We all make unnecessary judgements against people. I just try to acknowledge my ignorance and change my ways before I fall into the same old mental routines and stereotypes.

If I find that guy again, I'll be happy to help him out some more, if I don't I'll just help someone else out. That's the best I can do.

just

Namaskar

Whenever I head over to my friend Roop's house, I always have to go through this one part of town that's slightly annoying. Mostly because of the children. Now, don't get me wrong, I love kids, but the whole way through it's one rupee, one school pen, one rupee, one school pen. Well, actually they've upgraded, now it's ten rupee, one school pen, ten rupee, one school pen. I guess inflation has hit the children the hardest.

This time when I was passing through as usual the children were screaming 'hello! hello! hello!' and I responded with the usual 'namaste' but there was this group of quiet children just singing to themselves and one said 'hello' and I replied 'namaste' but then she replied with 'Namaskar' which is the respectful way of addressing someone. I use 'namaskar' for older people, women sometimes and any sadus or religious men I come across. It's just funny how simple little things like that make a difference.

There are times when I greet an old man with Namaskar and I can tell he notices it. Then when I practice some of my Hindi he really appreciates my effort. I don't think many tourists that come to India bother with the language, because every time I say just a few words everyone is impressed. It gives me a little more respect then they might otherwise give me.

Painting with Children

Last night I was painting and all these kids were swarming around me. Some were little brats and a little annoying. Some were cool and cheerful. Overall I wasn't too bothered, by it. I try to tune them out, but apparently the scene was being watched by this older guy. He's a brahmin who hangs out sometimes and I've painted around him before.

In the middle of my painting, I hear this voice that screams out like a lion and says something in Hindi. All the children scatter and I turn around and see him sitting there. He was just trying to give me a little peace and for the rest of the drawing I was disturbed by anyone.

Today when I was painting at this other place, once again I was the object of attention. Throughout my walks around town I've befriended this little clique of shoe polisher kids. The first time I was painting and they approached me, they were very respectful. When other kids came up and started asking for rupees and being annoying, these kids were like... 'lay off pal, he's cool.'

So I'm painting and the kids are watching and one of the adults who has a store nearby yelled at these kids to clear out fast. They were hesitant, but then he came over and intimidated them with some force. They scattered for a bit, but returned every so often to check up on the painting.

Throughout all of this, I mostly just watch and let things be as they may. I'm not going to change any Indian's perspective on their social structure. In India it is just as rigid as it is in America. Shoe shiners will always be on the bottom of the hiearchy. All I can do is treat them as equals when they're around me.

Tourist Syndrome

Today I was thinking more about the tourist versus locals situation here or anywhere else that's a tourist town for that matter.

This evening I was sitting near a store painting. Some of the store people were selling their wares to all the people passing by. "Cigarettes, Internet, Postcards, Nice Shirt, Shoes, Books, Stuff, Junk, Clothes, Come spend your money, etc."

Most people probably don't like to have to sell this way. But in Jaisalmer, the tourists usually stay for only a day or two, so the money comes in quick, but leaves just as fast. Many tourists don't deal with this type of salesmanship very well so they look down and walk on by. The salesman then gets rejected then feels a little bad for two reasons. One, he just had to lower himself to such a practice and secondly he got rejected.

This double shot of annoyance brings up some animosity towards the tourist who caused this feeling in the first place. So it's a double edged sword. The tourist is the means to thier livelihood, but at the same time, a destruction of their past way of life.

But everything changes and the tourists are here now, but they won't be forever. The smart ones plan for the days when they're not here.

The Undertaker

The past few days I've had to break the hearts of some of my Indian friends by letting them know the truth about television. The truth is, no matter how much pomp and show they have, and no matter how many individuals are ther watching it live, it's a sad fact of life that WWF just isn't real. It's a play. A staged fight scene like something you might see in a Hollywood movie.

"Nooo... they're really jumping on each other. They're really hitting each other."

"No my friend," I respond sadly, "It's all a farce."

"But they're really hitting each other. They're jumping from the ropes... etc. etc."

This discourse was initiated by a long description about how Kali was fighting the Undertaker. I felt as though I was having a conversation with my nephews back in the day. It's sad enough that TV's are becoming more and more prevalant in India, but it is even sader that WWF has come to India.

I'm not sure if they belived me, but my final example was in reference to some shady fighting where one of the wrestlers took an iron bar and hit the other guy on the head and the leg when the ref wasn't looking. I told him that if he thought this was real, he could hit Roopa on the head with an iron bar as hard as he could. If Roop was still alive then WWF is real, but I was of the opinion that Roop would be dead as a doornail. The experiment was never followed through and thier still watching WWF.

Hey, at least I tried.

Communication

As my weeks here progress I'm slowly learning more and more Hindi each day. I still can't understand what most people say, but I can communicate just fine.

One of the things I like about not speaking the local language is my ability to read people. Since the words people speak are unintelligble, I rely on other cues. Body language, eye contact, posture, tone of voice, etc. Using these other clues it's easier to see when someone is genuine or not.

It's easier to pick up the vibe a person has in this scenario. When I understand the language someone is saying they may be able to con me with pretty words or compliments. In India, I can only rely on my gut instinct, and my gut is always right so long as my brain doesn't confuse the message.

When I'm out painting, people are always coming to watch. Some talk with me, some I talk back with. It's easy to tell which people are genuinely interested or which only want to mess with the tourist. Today a group of young men came and sat around me. Some spoke a little English, some none. The group dynamic was so easy to read. There was one guy who was a handsome man and clearly the leader of the group, but it was obvious he was the most insecure as well. He was showing me his Ray Ban sunglasses and just being annoying all around. He asked if I could paint a picture of him, and I said for $100 bucks I can.

"Oh, aren't you my friend?" he said. I replied that I wasn't, but if he wanted a painting he could pay for it. After that he was quiet for awhile and I chatted with the other cooloer guys in the group.

Almost every shop owner asks how you are doing, but a few of them actually seem to care. And these I respond, the others I ignore. It's good practice just reading peoples true character. Looking at the inside of they are as compared to the outward expressions of who they want to be.

Tricks of the Trade

Today I was sitting in front of this guys shop painting. We started talking about the state of India today. He said he lived in Jailsalmer for his whole life. I said he probably saw many changes since his childhood. My last trip here was in 2004 and I noticed quite a few changes. More stores, more tourists, more touts. There are times when walking around town is extremely annoying. There's people saying 'Sir, Madam, you like my shop?' 'Want to spend money in my shop?' 'Two for 100, no? Three? Four? Five? Seven for 100?' At times it's best to walk with your head down and aviod eye contact.

The guy I was talking with was telling me how all this tourist money coming in brings in some shady characters. There's an artist down from my hotel who buys prints, then sits in front of his shop, and paints borders on them. Then he says that the work is hand drawn. Clever.

Another worse story is how these guides bring groups of tourists to large shops and scam their money. See in India there are these guides. These guides just sit around, looking for googling tourists and then offer to show them around town. The guides are always all spiffed up in some lame looking half suit, half indian dress outfit. You can spot a guide a mile away. Wherever the guide takes a tourist, if the tourist buys something, the guide gets a commission. Usually around 30%. It's such a scam.

My friend Raja works in this shop and if someone walks in and wants a ring he'll say one price, if the tourist has a guide, he has to say a higher price to pay for the guides commission. Some guides have this particular scam where they will call a store ahead of time and say they are bringing in a big group of tourists. Then the store owner will go get a group of kids and put them out back and give them some pencils and paper. When the group arrives, the tourists see this impromptu 'school' and think that the store is doing good for the community. The owner may say that 1/2 the profits go to helping these kids learn. The tourists feeling nice buy many things from the shop and often give big donations. The guides get 30%.

If you're planning on going to India. Buyer beware.

The Desert Festival

Tomorrow is the last day of the desert festival. Every year there is a three day extravaganza with camels, and festivities and music and all the required accoutrements.

The whole town is a buzz. Everyone seems to be talking about it. The tourists have come out in full force. It's quite the party atmosphere compared to just a few days ago.

On the first day, I made my way down to the stadium where the initial action. My arrival time coincided with the "Mr. Desert Festival." I stayed five minutes, maybe six and then went on my merry way to go paint.

I always feel a little bad when people put on these party type events and they end up being bunk. It's not my fault and I shouldn't feel bad, but I know people put in all this effort, time, and energy. There are people who are really excited about this lame desert festival.

It's not just this festival that I feel bad about, it's all those lame events that we've all attended in the past. I think I sympathize with people because I have to put on art shows and show my work and when no one shows up, it's lame. Fortunately for me, I'm a mellow guy and if I have one or two friends in the room with some good conversation or no conversation at all, I'm still happy. My needs are basic.

Today I didn't bother going to the festival and I won't bother going tomorrow either. I just want people to stop putting on lame events and only put on good ones so I don't have to feel bad about the world being filled up with more ways to waste quality time.

Another View

For this post, I thought I'd share an email from a friend. It seems that India offers everyone what they're looking for. I'm searching for a little peace and some quality painting time, but if you're interested in a little more drama, well then there's some of that too.

Tiru is freaking intense- the real India- so far Ive seen a dead girl in the back of a truck with her eyes staring open in a milky glaze, sadhus vomiting in hepatitus guters, a 3 yr old walking a tightrope on a wheelwith 3 pots on her head and then an argument ensuing about child rights, and there is this creepy American hypnotherapist who looks like JimMorrison, hypnotizing all the drippy western hippy chicks ... Its full on - a bit of a low grade hippie sex scene.

So that is one view of India. It's a bit different then mine. Although I did see a girl on a type rope, but that's what I do all summer long, so to me it's good natural fun. And today I did see a dead cow. It was blocking the traffic in some back alley. Later in the day, I went to a friends house and he was having a puja - a religious ceremony. It was pretty interesting.

What I notice about other people's religious ceremonies is the laid back air to them. It seems when religion and ceremony is a part of your daily life, things are a little more laid back. I had the opportunity to attend a Native American healing ceremony one time. It was an amazing experience. From sunset to sunrise we were all chanting and singing. The intent was there, but there was still this laid back attitude. I remember the main holy man who was leading for most of the evening, would ask if anyone else wanted to lead, but people were like, no thanks, you go ahead. And he was laugh and his expression would say, 'alright lazy bones, I'll continue"

Here in India, it's the same way. There was a brahmin preist and five sadhus sitting around and chanting and focusing thier intent, yet there were all sorts of other people milling around, chatting, cooking, cleaning. It was like this ritual was just another part of a normal day. If you go to church and think about god for only an hour every week, then there's this formality to it, since you feel like you have to cram in all this piousness and piety into one hour. In the long run, you're only fooling yourself.

The Jaisalmer Painter

The other morning I had a nice suprise. I was walking through the fort looking for my first paintnig and this guy stops me and tells me to wait and look at something. He goes into his house and gets a newspaper, pulls out the middle section and there I am in all my glory. A big photograph of me painting some buildings in the old part of town.

It seems that the guy who took my photo yesterday wasn't lying when he said that my photo would be all over Rajasthan. When he said that I thought, 'yeah sure buddy. I believe you.' But sure enough, one day later there I was. Some gora (white skinned) sitting and painting on the second page of the paper.

Apparently everyone reads the paper here because I didn't get more then a hundred yards before some other guy came up and told me about my new found fame. I chat for a bit and he wants to celebrate, but I'm on my way to go painting near my friends shop. I arrive at my friends place and he's talking about this mornings suprise as well. A mini celebrity in a city where I can't even speak their language. Today when I was out painting, some guy came up and said he saw my pictuer in the paper as well. Apparently this media thing works.

If I had thought about things a little more, I would have given the guy my business card and my website address, but marketing has never been my strength. My usual marketing tatics involve having my friends and clients talk about my artwork to thier friends and family. So far it's working quite well, but maybe one day I'll pursue something a little more business like. The problem is that is not my style and when you try a style that isn't your own, it doesn't work. For now, I'll just continue being myself while keeping quiet and letting others do the work for me. That way it gives people something to talk about that's more interesting then sports or the news.

A town for Tourists

I think there is something negative about tourist towns. I haven't exactly nailed it down yet, but the vibe is different then most towns.

Jaisalmer has changed a little bit since I came here last. The same amount of tourists, but more shops and more hotels competing for the same amount of money. So the touts and hawkers are a little more persistent.

I've met up with some of my friends from the past and it's been good. Eating at friends houses amongst good company always beats eating out. This morning, Ashlee and I helped cook and make some chapati's. This is some knowledge that Ash was anxious to bring back with us.
Some of the other locals seem to have a holier than thou attitude. It's like they despise the tourists, yet without them they wouldn't be riding around on thier fancy motorcycles.

I notice this same attitude in Yosemite. I work with some people that just DESPISE the tourists that visit. Some are waiters and they walk out in the restaurant with smiles on, but when they walk into the kitchen, they use some of foulest language I've ever heard. Although part of this goes with the waiter culture. It doesn't matter what restaurant you go to, most waiters don't like you, they only like your tip. Any request is seen as annoying and any conversation is only to amuse you. Their main concern is getting off in a few hours and hanging out with friends.

In the long run, this attitude of superiority will only make less tourists come here. So they're only shooting themselves in the foot. I know if I didn't have friends here, I wouldn't come back. But I'm good at ignoring things I don't like, so I enjoy my time here. The old fort in the desert is amazing. The sun on the castle is beautiful, the air is fresh when it's not dinner time and people are cooking with coal in the streets and every night I sleep a sound comfortable sleep. In the end that's all I care about.

Twenty hours on a train

Once we finally found our seats amongst all the chaos, we put away our luggage and tried to get ourselves mentally prepared for the long ride. There were three other people in our compartment. One was a quiet younger guy, the other two were your basic adult.
We were all pretty quiet at first, but by the end of the ride we were all conversing as best as we could. I ended up learning a good deal of hindi.

About an hour into the train ride, more and more people started getting on the train. Apparently some people just ride for a few stops, but when this happens appropriate seat numbers don't matter much since everyone just crams in. Our little compartment ended up being where the card players came. There was probably 12 or 16 people all sitting around watching four or five guys play cards. I felt bad for Ash, as the female, she was definitely out numbered. I ended up sketching the whole scene while she sat and knited her hat.

Eventually most of these guys left and a new guy came on who was a friend of two guys in my compartment. The minute he sat down, I could tell he was cool. It's amazing how you can tell what type of vibe someone lays down without even being able to communicate with them.
Some of the guys knew a little english and from that we were communicating the best we could. The three friends were all with the Army and heading out to Jaisalmer to go back to work.
At one point we were all talking and laughing loud and listening to music on one guys cell phone. Cell phones are big here too, although the phones here are better. Video, music, bluetooth, etc. This guy was from a village and he's playing music videos on his mobile for the cellphoneless American.

We had a real party atmosphere going on and it attracted some other people. These two other guys came over with thier own cell phone playing music and wanted to join the party. But it was evident that the vibe they were laying down wasn't cool. Once they arrived, the joking and laughing slowed down and that uncomfortable silence settled on us as it always does when someone stains the crowd.

I liked the way the Indians handled it. In America I feel that some egos would be puffed up and people would use intimidation to push people out. Here in India, they just made them feel silly and not including them into the conversation. Eventually they left and we got back to having a good time.

EVentually it was time to sleep and laid out the berths and settled down for a night of freezing cold. Ashlee and I were about as unprepared for the cold as you could be. I had two bed sheets and Ash had a thick shawl. Neither of which did the trick.

In the middle of the night, admist the shivering and turning over, what seemed like an entire eighth grade class got on board. There was no pretending to be polite and quiet. They were as loud as they would have been at recess. Eventually they calmed down, or I fell asleep and I dreamed.

I dreamt that I woke up and Ashlee had put a big plush mat underneath me and she laid thick blankets over top me. All my friends from highschool were hanging around and there was an overall happy vibe going on. Of course, that was far from reality when I arose.
In the middle of the night, Ashlee bent down over her bunk to tell me it was 3:00am and we only had two more hours. I felt bad to tell her, that I was mistaken and the train didn't arrive till 2pm. She took the news well outwardly, but on the inside I think there was a tinge of disappointment.

The next morning and day was more of the same. Laughing, joking, talking. At the end, I was invited to stay at this one guys village next time we come through. I actually might take him up on the offer too. It sounded like a mellow peaceful place.

Trying to catch the train

At 5:45 in the evening we had to catch our train ride to Jaisalmer from Delhi. Due to some time wasting on our part, we were a little late to the train station. Getting to a train station late in India is a bad idea. I recommend against it.

First, it's a place of total chaos to begin with and second, most everything is written in Hindi. The station has 16 different platforms and we didn't know where ours was. We asked these two men who looked like they worked there and they told us to go to platform 16. So we race on down to 16. We walk up and down the entire length of the train and see nothing that says we belong there. So we walk down platform 17, again nothing. So we ask some one and that person says platform 10. Now our time is running short so we scurry along, big huge backpacks and all. We walk up and down the length of platform 10 and realize that it's not our train either. Awesome.

So we ask yet another person, but at this point I've given up hope. He tells us to try platform 10. So we race up the stairs and back down the stairs to platform 10. On the sides of the trains, they post the names and seating arrangements for every car. So Ash and I are racing up and down the side of the train trying to read all these dittos taped to the sides.

Amongst all this chaos and noise and people and smells and fumes, we finally see a little piece of sanity. There at the bottom of a ripped up piece of paper falling from the side of the train we see the words that are so familiar to us, "Ashlee Dixon seat 18, Kevin Maddrey seat 19" It's amazing the feeling that seeing those simple names gave us. We get on the train and set ourselves down for a night and a day on the train.

How much to the train station?

So catching a taxi or a rickshaw ride in India is always an adventure. When we left Kovalam, we needed a rickshaw to the airport. Rickshaws are little three wheeled vehicles. They are open on the sides, but have a roof and there's enough room for two people and two big backpacks. Although you can also see a group of six Indians all packed into them as well.

Since we were carrying our large packs and walking down the strip to the place where the cabs all hang out, we were walking targets for salesmen. People come up and bug us for rooms. 'Nice room, only 200.' ' You need room?' 'Clean rooms, western toilets.' This one rickshaw driver came up to us and bug us the whole way. I had my price that I would pay because I asked someone else what a fair price was. He was saying 'No no no... it's this far, two people, big packs, etc.'

I told him that's fine, you can go give someone else a ride. He bugged me long enough that I decided to give him a chance. We drove to the city and he stopped across the street at our hotel.
"Our hotel is over there on the other side of this busy street." I didn't want Ash or I to have to lug our packs across this mad house of a road. He said there was no parking. I was annoyed cause I could have taken another car taxi that offered the same price, but I thought this guy was alright. It just shows that you never know. All I can do is work with the information I have at hand. If the guy turns into a scrub later, then that's his fault not mine.

In Delhi, I had a price in mind when I needed a ride to the train station. So I was asking around and people come bombard you from all sides. Asking for rooms or to eat in their restaurant or for rickshaw rides. I just ignore them most of the time and avoid eye contact. Sometimes I'm rude as can be, but for the most part I try to be polite and silent.

Although there was this one annoying guy who ran up right in front of me bugging me about a room I think, I didn't pay attention and I walked into him, pushing him and I think he fell into the dirty street. I didn't notice though. That was his fault for walking right in front of someone and annoying them.

Painting at the Mujahideen Temple

Yesterday Ash and I headed out of town to this muslim temple that's down the coast a bit. I first saw it a few weeks ago from this rocky out crop and it looked like it had some painting potential.

It was about a mile away from where we were staying, but it was a world apart from the mentality here. India is like Washington DC sometimes. This block is loaded with high class living, the next block is the ghetto.

I asked Ash to wear her shawl because she already stood out of the crowd, but with those long, blonde, curly locks blowing in the wind, she would have stood out like a man eating a hamburger in Delhi.

On the way down to the temple, we passed the Indian Wave Energy Project. A few years ago there was a project that tried to harness the energy of waves to generate power. It was going strong for a bit, but then a big wave came and wrecked the project. It's too bad though, because it is such a good idea. Waves roll in daily, oil is doesn't. Unless your in San Francisco bay, then it rolls up on the shore quite often.

Once we arrived at the temple we wandered around trying to find somewhere to paint. Once we found a good spot, we were surrounded by curious children. First they were asking for school pens every five seconds, but once I started painting, they stopped begging and just watched.

It's amazing how much respect an artist gets. Once they saw me start to paint, there entire mood changed. Even the adults who came by gave me instant respect. It happens all the time, but I still feel honored. People would come up and stand right in front of me. Before I had an opportunity to ask them to move, a member of the audience would speak up and tell the other person, 'Hey, hey hey, clear the way! Can't you see he's painting the temple?' Of course I couldn't undertsand any word they were saying, but body langauge and tone of voice says more then actual words.

The painting was difficult because of the crowds, the intense wind, and the sand that was blowing incessantly. One child kept holding my palette cause he wanted to feel cool. I let him since I could tell he felt special. Other kids were behind me and wanting to touch my shaved head. In circumstances like these it's a real challenge to stay focused, but I always appreciate a good challenge. It makes me wonder how some artists have their studio and are able to work in a room with no distractions, a perfectly comfortable chair, thier favorite music and all the ammenities like a bathroom, running water, electricity, etc.

A trip to the tip

The other day I had the opportunity to head down to the southern tip of India. Apparently it's one of the few places around that you can see the moon rise and the sunset over one ocean. Sounds nice enough, right? Wrong.
I learned two lessons from this trip. The first was the one I've had to learn time and time again - don't have expectations.

My idea of the trip was to be dropped off on the beach and then the other tourists do thier touring and I go out and paint. When it's time to go, I head back and we all head home.

The reality of the trip was completely opposite. It involved a big bus, full of a bunch of people being shuffled in and out going from one spot to the next. Our first destination was some waterfalls. The water falling was nice, but the acres and acres of concrete surrounding them really took away from the scene. After standing around doing nothing, we headed to a temple which didn't interest me too much, and then we went to breakfast. In the bus and then out of the bus then back in the bus.

Our next stop was to the very southern tip of India. There's a town there that I didn't bother to remember the name, because I know I'll never go back. We shuffle off the bus and this time we get shuffled onto a barge and head to this little rocky island with an enormous statue build on it.

The statue itself was amazing, but we didn't have much time to enjoy it since we had to get on another barge and head over to another rocky island to see a temple. After a quick scurry around this temple, it's back onto the barge, back onto land, then back on the bus.

The highlight of the island hop wasn't for me, but for the Indian's who wanted to have thier picture taken with a white guy. I was happy to oblige. Seeing the smiles on thier faces and enjoyment, took away from the dismal air hanging around my trip. Once one person saw that I didn't mind the photos, others came along and joined in the fun.

Now it's time for lunch. So the bus takes us to this cafeteria place and the food was delicious. We stayed here longer then we should have, which was odd since there wasn't anything there. I did enjoy a talk I had with this gardner there. He was teaching me hindi and I learned some important words and when I return to the states I told him I'd send him the picture I took of us and a pack of American writing pens.

After lunch we finally head to the beach. Alright, things are looking up I thought, but once again my expectations were dashed. The bus parked us on top of this hill and the beach was below us. "Whoo Hoo" I screamed as I headed down to the beach. (Well, not really, but in my head I was thinking that.) It didn't take long for me to realize that this wasn't a beach at all. It was a toilet. The stench was my first clue, the second was the all the dookie everywhere. If that wasn't enough of a clue, the man on the rocks doing his duty out in the open was my final clue.

Ok. No beach. No swimming. Fine, I'll go paint. Normally, I can paint anything anywhere. It's the beauty of not having a particular 'style.' This time, I was at a loss. The wind was blowing fierce and there were people eveywhere. The places where there wasn't someone selling, squating, or begging, only held garbage.

When I tell some people I'm heading to India, they get this expression on their face that says 'why?' The southern tip of India is what they are picturing in their mind. This was actually my first experience of this side of India, and boy did it stink. Lilterally.

As I'm wandering around to paint, I'm passing stall after stall of people selling junk. The junkiest of junk. Little plastic trinkets, key chains, broken plastic toys, and toys that will be broken shortly. It was so pitiful really. It made me think of our shopping in the west and at the heart of it, it's no different then this nonsense. Just a bunch of poor people buying useless junk.

After an hour of shuffling through crowds I find a restaurant that offers some respite. I sit with a few friends and we take in the air conditioning and watch the world go by from the security that comes from a window of glass.

Finally it's time to meet up at the bus. I'm thinking it's time to go, but nooooo. It's time to watch the sunset near the stinking, poopie beach. You may think that sounds nice, but it was cloudy. C'mon, you've got to be kidding me, can't we just leave? Nope. We are on a bus, and this bus has a schedule. Realizing my fate, I go sit on the bus and meditate while the flies land on my head and the cows eat the plastic wrappers on the street.

Now the sun is set. The cows have moved on and it's time to go home, right? Wrong. Now time to head to yet another temple. This temple was actually the most beautiful, but it was so late and I was so ready to head home. Once at the temple, we all shuffled off the bus and met a tour guide. Apparently we were a little behind schedule and the tour guide was ready to give us the summary tour of the place.

"Come, come, come. Look here. Krishna, statue, stars! Come, come, move one. Here we have some pillars that make noise. Come Come come, hurry we must go here.Look up, neat statue. Come, come, come."

As we follow around this maniac tour guide, we come to a place where the devout are supposed to climb some steps, wipe some stuff on their head, eat some prasad, and head on through. A long line of Indian men were waiting trying to offer their praise to their god before the temple closed. Instead of waiting in line, our tour guide, let us cut in front of the line and go through the process.

To me, this act was the crowning glory on an obnoxious day. Here were these people who truely belive in what they were doing, and they have to wait while these white, clown, tourists go through the process with no heart, and no belief? It was just as pathetic as the beach. I decided to wait for this circus elsewhere.

Finally after the longest day of my life (slight exageration) we get on the bus and head home. I fall asleep on the bus and I wake up to this horrible sound of crunching metal. The bus is going backwards down this steep hill. The guy in front of me is saying 'What is this driver doing? We've come all this way only to die as our bus falls into the lake." Ahhh... nothing like a relaxing day out of the Ashram.