Catching up...

The following posts are 'catch-up' entries from the past two weeks...

Blog post 1/23/06: Inshallah….

Which means: “God willing…”

“Inshallah in a few minutes we will be landing at Lahore International Airport…” announced the flight attendant on Pakistan International Airways so non-chalantly. ‘Inshallah?’ I asked my neighbor… ‘This is a Boeing 737! There’s no ‘God-willing’ about it, this bird will land!” I demanded… Of course I knew Inshallah was a common part of speech in Muslim countries, but perhaps it was just the beginning of many cultural clashes to come, perhaps many more than in India…
Well, Allah got us down to the ground alright, albeit with a bit of a jolt and bounce routine before we docked at the jetway, and the airport sparkled with that freshly built airport look and smell, making Delhi’s International airport look like a crumbling warehouse well beyond it's prime... and yes, most men here were wearing traditional dress, Shalvar Kamiz, the long pajama top with loose leggings and vest topped off with a woolen vest or jacket, with optional Pashtun-style flat wool cap, or the more decorative Sindhi skull cap. With my slacks and western sportcoat, as formal as i get dressed, I easily stood out as a foreigner, despite my growing beard.
With luggage retrieved and a minimum of security on the way out of the baggage claim(quite surprising considering the unending series of luggage checks, ticket checks, passport checks and patdowns we had to undergo at the Delhi airport) we soon met our Fulbright Pakistan partners and Pakistani SATTP teachers who kindly gave us each a rose, and we were soon shepherded into our awaiting transport. Our Indian teachers were loaded onto a 'Coaster' bus, while Judy, Pat and I were loaded into a small van that would take us to the Pearl Continental HOtel, chosen because it met State Dept.'s standards of security provision. As we drove out of the new airport, onto reasonably well paved and clean streets towards Lahore, through rather posh Cantonments (military housing) with neat and tidy shopping strip malls near the intersections, I still couldn't tell I was Pakistan, aside from the Urdu script adorning the signs. A few km's later we pull into the swanky Pearl Continental and walk into an extravagant atrium lobby (after walking through security screening at the front door) complete with Thai restaurant, upscale shopping mall, gigantic tropical fish tank, palm trees and glass elevators soaring up to the 8th floor, or Executive floor, and as it happened, our floor. Still not sure I was actually in Pakistan, the bellboy pushed open the door to my suite, inserted my card key into the wall mounted key slot, which engaged the power in my room, mood lights flash on, extravagently decorated queen sized bed walkin closet full shower jacuzzi bath bidet marble tiled oak desk hewlett packard flat screen monitor computer internet enabled 26" screen television satellite channels complimentary mini-bar and what song should start pumping out of the stereo as I stroll into this nest of homogenous global executive travel luxury? Why, the Bee Gees hit "More than a Woman!!??" Stunned by this orgy of homogenous global executive travel luxury with a twist of disco, I sat down and turned on the tv, and what is the first channel to pop up on the tv in my first hour in Pakistan? Fox News: George Bush: "Town Hall" Speech at Kansas State University. Where am I? Chicago? Houston? Can't be Lahore, Pakistan... Several free bags of nuts and mango sodas later, I just gave in and savored the luxury, hell, it was paid for! oops, dinner at the Thai restaurant in five minutes...

Oh, a quick bit on the Bush speech and his so-called "Question and Answer" session: Complete Horseshit. Before Q&A began, I was hopeful that it might actual be a real q and a session, with some reasonably critical questions to keep bush on his toes. Hell, here we are with our Teacher Training Project, encouraging critical thinking and questioning of authority in countries where it's not only against tradition, but can be downright life-threatening to do so, yet in one of the free-est societies on earth the GOP/Fox News/Christian Right Corporation has turned our population into a brain-dead flock of sycophantic sheep. And after all, Bush is essentially a lame duck president, he can coast the last few years (just like he's coasted through the first five) and not care about popularity polls, so why not allow a modicum of critical thinking at his public addresses. Not a chance. from the outset the questioners spent their first five minutes gushing about Bush's wonderful policies protecting americans, vomiting up their undying love for him and testifying to his almighty greatness on par with Christ, and then lobbing big fat mushy softball questions for Bush to belt out of his little league park. These willing executioners came up with (or where planted with) such hard-driving questions like how to protect the American Beef industry, how to get support for his failed social security privatization scheme, how it should be every American's patriotic duty to wire-tap themselves and snitch on their neighbors, etc., etc., etfreakingcetera. I was shocked, I was pissed, I was just utterly befuddled as to how dumb and robotic so many Americans have become under this administration. Don't these lobotomized republican patsies realize how much hatred of America Bush has stirred up around the world. It has reached historic levels. Bush has single-handedly made us more unpopular in the world than at any time in our history. Never before have so many people hated us. Well done, well done. That takes a lot of effort, thanks for all your sweat and toil on our behalf George. Maybe it took leaving America to realize how Orwellian our country has become. Inauguration Day in January 2009 cannot come any faster. Allah help us.

1/24/06 – fear and loathing in Lahore…
woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head…walked to the window and pulled back the curtains to reveal… yes, I’m in Pakistan…. Haze, palm trees, minarets in the distance, the wailing calls to prayer floating on the polluted morning breezes blowing along the old Mall Road...

As I stride toward the front door of our grand hotel, slightly nervous to tarry forth into the land of purity (the literal translation of Paki-stan), anti-american demonstrations and Osama bin Laden, the absurdly tall uniformed guard at the door sees my half-eaten apple in hand and tells me if I eat apples and drink milk I'll grow big and strong. Taken aback by his levity, i barely was able to squeak out a lame repsonse: "Is that your secret big guy?" He chuckled, and so I felt a bit buoyed as i left the warm embrace of the machine gun toting armed guards and metal detectors and undercarriage mirrors and stood on the edge, the edge of the sidewalk along the famous Mall Road, ready to bound across the median-interrupted four lanes of traffic to the grounds of the Government Staff College where our Workshops were being held. Two things halted my progress at the edge of the Mall Road. the Lahori air rivaled, nay, surpassed the foul-ness of the dusty dirty Delhi air. I couldn't believe it, but it was true. It was 9am and the smog was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the smell was a tasty bouquet of burnt garbage, pure diesel, and burning garbage. Maybe it was a bad day, or bad week. Whatever, my lungs were tempered by my week in Delhi, let's just cross the bloody road, ok? Wait, is it possible Lahore traffic is even more reckless than Delhi traffic? crazed auto rickshaw drivers, crazed bus drivers, crazed truck drivers, crazed cyclists, crazed car drivers, all driven mad by rush hour and the mad scramble to claim any open piece of road, lane markers be damned! lanes? there are no lanes in South Asia. Lane markers are a complete waste of paint. It's just a game of poll position and bumper cars and honk your horn ad nauseum. It is a miracle there aren't any more cases of road rage here. I guess that comes from years of living in a society where things have barely worked for years (though they seem to work more nowadays, recently publicized cases of road rage in Delhi point to how people are getting used to things working). I mean to say, low standards. Americans have such high standards for process, order, positive outcomes. when things don't go right, when they go awry, when you get cut off, indignant rage boils to the surface of the average american. Here, it's just life, keep driving, keep claiming your own piece of road or you'll be driven off. and honk a lot.

anyway, enough. bas. our morning meeting with our teachers and the USEFP staff soon degenerated into a mad scramble fest to compile and submit presentation handouts to go to the printer in time. USEFP had to relocate their operations from Islamabad to a small office at the staff college in Lahore, so a bit of dissarray was expected, but it really became a scramblefest to get ready today, especially with the entire afternoon planned for sight-seeing. With our last minute changes submitted, we quickly jumped on the buses (a no-no we later found out from the USEFP director, considering the 'security situation," all govt. sponsored American staff were to ride in the USEFP private car, not on the tour bus with the rest of the teachers.) and our bus crawled through the crowded streets of old Lahore, much like the overcrowded bustling streets of Chandni Chowk in Old Delhi, chaos reigned and traffic crept. Finally we pulled into a cramped parking lot and we exited the bus and walked toward a side street. With my shades on and my german accent ready, I was felt sufficiently on edge to detect any danger, any 'security' compromised street scene. I soon relaxed when we entered a cavernous entrance to a building guarded by an AK-47-bearing security guard. A calm prevailed as we entered into a peaceful oasis from the chaos of the city, a former Havaili, or arsenal, used by the British and turned into a home for the former governor of Balochistan and the grandfather of our USEFP director, Shelale. A marvelous courtyard soon revealed itself, centered around a fountain and several sets of broad and flat cushioned benches. Through the archway to the right was a smaller courtyard and a lavishly decorated parlor, replete with antique rifles and swords, bronze urns, chests, wall hangings, a veritable post-Mughal paradise for the British-Raj era Lahori privelaged class, tastefully maintained in all it's glory.

I posed with my Pashtun teacher friend Itbar, both of us mugging with ancient guns like a pair of wild west bandits, While on the walls were photos of Shelale's grandfather in his prime standing with Pakistani dignitaries, including the national poet hero Iqbal, and the future Quaid-e-Azam (father of the Pakistan nation) Jinnah. then i found the secret staircase to the rooftop.. aha, now that's a view, more rooftops as far as the eye could see, laundry lines, honks galore emanating from the streets outside, the red minarets of the majestic Bhadshahi Mosque rise in the hazy distance. Mr. Sharma and Aziz and I take a few fun photos and they head down as I savor the view, reminding me of my epic walk along the outer walls of Old Jerusalem. Now this is an ancient city, it just reeks of history, of waves of conquerers and empires risen and fallen, of spiced meats cooking on streetside grill for centuries in the same way... speaking of meats, a delicious feast prepared for our group down in the dining room, dusty, crudely taxidermied trophy deer heads perched along the walls gazed upon our majestic feast of dhals and chicken and mutton dishes... piping hot naan, yogurt sauces, mint chutney, a feast for the ages... then too soon we had to shuffle back into the shadowy streets, past staring eyes of questionable intent, and quickly back aboard the bus. damn these state dept. guys make you paranoid.

our bus dives back into the traffic madness of lahore, past the Minar-e-Pakistan, the tower commemorating the spot where the Pakistan Resolution was signed, marking the birth of the partition. soon we weaved through a narrow gate and into a grand square surrounded by high fort gate on one side, the the grand Bhadshahi Mosque on the other, and another grand Sikh Gurudwara (temple) at the other side. We were now at the last nexus of the fallen Mughal empire. Our first stop, a tour of tomb of the Pakistani national hero, the poet Iqbal.. i was heartened to see many pious Muslims praying at the tomb of this great poet. How many Americans pray at Robert Frost's grave I wonder?
soon we are beset by beggars of a most aggressive kind.. "Hut, Hut..." (go away) our guides exhort to these poor souls... I had somehow come to assume there would be no beggars in a Muslim society, that their generous Zakats (alms) must care for all, but in a poor country like Pakistan I guess no amount of charity can care for all... Hell, rich america can scarcely care for all of our indigent fellow citizens...
now a few steps along the main square and up the steps to the imposing entry of the mosque. then, my paranoia, which had started to subside after nearly a full day in Pakistan without bodily threat or harm, coagulated into throbbing ball in my chest as I tried to remove my shoes at the Mosque entrance. ‘are you british?’ i heard the menacing voice of man sitting behind me. my immediate reflex was to turn toward him to check him out and before I could say, "no, I'm american," my internal security guard pulled on the brakes and i merely muttered a "no." Shit, why did he ask that? was he really checking to see if i was a brit, or was he trying to see if i'm american? then out of the corner of my eye I saw him pull a small microphone up to his mouth and say "Check," followed by a few words in Urdu. oh god, i thought, is he al qaeda operative giving the green light for a suicide attack? is he an ISI agent keeping tabs on my every move? chest throbbing, my friend Mr. Sharma pulls me aside and whispers: ‘beau, you see I think it’s best you don’t reveal your identity... just don't say anything..." oh god, i thought, this is it. i'm about to become a scrolling headline on CNN/alJazeera/FoxNews. I saw the mosque as a sanctuary and made a b-line for the inner courtyard.... fear and loathing in the masjid… ok, just listen to the tour guide, get absorbed in the historical facts, forget about it, they won't hit us in the mosque, it's unthinkable... then i did. the grandeur, the calm, the overwhelming sense of peace and humility assuage my fear and loathing, temporarily anyway... capacity for 75,000 faithful muslims praying at once, my god that must be a sight on Eid al Fitr. we walked into the main atrium under the dome, where the ingenious Mughal architects built everything with aesthetics and acoustics in mind. in fact, if you stood in one corner facing the wall and whispered, someone on the exact opposite corner could hear you loud and clear... ha! prehistoric cell phones!! now everyone with camera phones were taking snaps of us enjoying this stunt... a calming stroll about the mosque soon gave way to the fear again. would they be waiting for us? waiting to walk up and pull the pin? i gingerly step through the main gate, pretending to look about in reverence and awe at the filigreed marble work and intricate paintings on the walls of the gate. suddenly a man grabs my arm and I jump around in terror..."Sir, sir" he states as he points at my pocket... my wallet was sticking out and his kind soul was warning me to take care of it... phew... my pulse slows down a bit...

now on to the Lahore fort, a massive complex where Shah Jahan ruled the Mughal roost, coasting into the massive gateway on the back of an elephant, all the way up to the remnants of the royal court where the once awe-inspiring Sheesh Mahel (house of mirrors) stands, now covered by scaffolding as a UNESCO funded restoration project works to restore it's grandeur. Built by Shah Jahan to appease his high maintenance wife and love of his life, Mumtaz. I want to walk on clouds, she proclaimed, so Shah jahan installed a marvelous floor of marble of the striated variety that looks as if one is really walking on clouds... "I want you to reach up into the heavens and bring me a star!" she demanded, and lovelorn Shah Jahan built the Sheesh Mahel, so that when candles were lit in the right places, the reflections in the mirrors gave one the feeling they could reach any star in the room... and also spotted was the site of the royal throne, where the once mighty Koh-i-noor diamond sat entrenched above the Mughal emperor's head, and kindly 'borrowed' by the British emperors 127 years ago, and now it sits cozily in Queen Elizabeth's crown... will it ever be returned to it's home? many south asian politicians claim they will bring it home from the UK, but it may have to be over the Queen's dead body.. our day of paranoia and history concluded around a beautiful banyan tree in the middle of the fort, once lovingly encircled endlessly by the long gone buddhist pilgrims of the region. ahh, just what i needed after my first day in Pakistan... meditation under a Bodhi tree....

off to dinner that night with our group of teachers to a traditional restaurant called the 'Village', but before our bus could leave the grounds of the Staff College, Judy, Pat and I were pulled off the bus by our Fulbright Pakistan Director and told we are not to ride in private cars, buses or taxis as it violates State Dept. security directives... instead we were loaded into the Fulbright-owned SUV and taken to the restaurant with the Fulbright driver. hmmm, what's a more likely target, an SUV loaded with white people, or a big bus loaded with south asian teachers and a few white people sprinkled amongst the crowd? this whole security thing is a bit illogical...

Because of our group arriving so late, some of us were diverted to another restaurant with a massive buffet of Pakistani delights, all kinds of sheesh kabob and karahi meats, a smorgasbord of meats. if India is the vegetarians paradise, then pakistan must be the meat-lovers paradise... the best part was watching the naan bakers roll and flatten the dough, then they reached it inside a giant urn shaped earthen oven heated by a fire underneath and they slapped the doughy naan against the inside of the urn and let it stick on the sides until it came out steamy and toasted, naan perfection.. during dinner i finally got to know nisar ahmed, sher daraz khan and inayat ali khan, from Swat and the Khyber Pass area in the Northwest Frontier Province near afghanistan, they were three of the 'fallen angels' as they described themselves, teachers from pakistan who were selected to join us in washington, but were denied visas for various reasons, usually due to their status as single males and/or having relatives in the u.s., thus posing as a flight risk... This was a shame because I found these guys very smart and passionate, highly educated and very serious about the importance of teaching english in that restive part of Pakistan. Inayat expounded on TS Elliot and hemingway, impressing me with his ability to quote whole poems and passages of american poets and authors. nisar shared the joys of Kashmiri chai, or Pink tea, a very coveted and expenisive style of tea, infused with dried fruits and some spices, very tasty. But just as our conversations peaked and our comraderie gained momentum at the dinner table, our special driver arrived and we had to leave the group standing in the parking lot while our ‘car’ picked up us endangered Americans...

back in my executive suite... withdrew the curtains while Crescent moon hangs low in the night sky, palm trees sway below... now I feel like I’m finally at home in Pakistan…

The Road less traveled...

Judy, Beau and Zeenat in front of the stunning and space age looking Faisal Mosque in Islamabad.

Photo update: I know these posts have been few and far between, and you're mostly dying to check out the photos more than my pointless ramblings, but now you're in luck Pat, Beau and Judy fans... all of the photos taken thus far are now available to see at my Fotki.com public photo gallery at http://public.fotki.com/barentg/.
I didn't have time to add descriptions or cull the poor images, but you'll have plenty of good ones to keep you busy. Please keep checking back there for further updates as Judy and I are both on the road for several more weeks, though soon to be parted... enjoy!

Itbar, Pat, Judy, Sumaira, Aneela, Aziz and Beau share one final snap in front of the Pearl Continental hotel in Lahore.

A brief article on the workshops in the Jan. 26th edition of the Lahore English newspaper. Others reported seeing Judy on the evening news as well. Go Team SATTP!

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood... thus begins Robert Frost's famous poem about taking the road less traveled by making all the difference in life... i discussed this poem with Syed Inayat Ali, one of the 'Fallen Angels,' the male Pakistani teachers originally selected to join us in Washington last summer, but for one frustraingly absurd reason or another had their visas delayed or denied by the state dept. and could not go. Fortunately, these kind and bright men were able to join us in Lahore for the Winter Workshops last week, and we were happy at least to get acquainted with them in Lahore. Inayat Ali is very smart and philosophical young man, a huge fan of TS Elliot among others, and we discussed this Frost poem and how neither of us could remember exactly how it began as we walked with SATTP fellow and good friend Itbar Khan and another 'Fallen Angel' from Peshawar, Sher Daraz Khan back to my hotel, the luxurious Pearl Continental, located across the famous Mall Road from the Government Administrative Staff College where our participants stayed and where our workshops were held. These kind Pakhtun gentlemen from the restive Northwest Frontier Province (home of Osama most likely, home of the mostly lawless Federally Administered Tribal Areas, extreme distrust of the federal government, blood fueds, very conservative social and religious traditions, and unparalleled natural beauty and renowned hospitality... sounds like Montana...) escorted me back to my hotel Friday night, and we enjoyed a night cap of glasses of fine bottled water in my room along with several good laughs and stories. One Pashtu story they shared said that Pashtuns are so hospitable that they will walk their guests nearly all the way back to their house to make sure they arrive home safe. But, the story goes, the host, upon guiding the guest back to his house expresses his fear of traveling back home alone, so the guest escorts the host back to his house. Once back to the hosts house, the guest expresses fear of traveling back to his house, and this will continue ad nauseum until the sun comes up... that's how hospitable Pashtuns, or Pathans, can be. I offered to walk my departing friends back to their staff college dorms, but they laughed and declined the offer for fear of staying up all night long living out the joke.

Anyway, I went to sleep that night, tortured by the fact that I had to leave this fascinating country so soon, without ever really seeing it except from the window of our maximum security 5 star hotel, or from the plush grounds of the Staff College or from the passenger seat of the chauffered SUV we were forced to ride around in because it was 'too risky' to have us ride with the rest of our teachers on the chartered bus. The next morning, after devouring my first real hearty breakfast during a meeting with Judy, Pat and South Asia RELO Richard Boyum, I returned to my room, took a long hot shower in my marble tiled five star bathroom with footbath/bidet, and then got on the phone with Pakistan International Airlines and posponed my return flight to Delhi scheduled for that afternoon and reserved a seat on the flight with Judy to Islamabad. Road less taken here I come!!!
AFter a few sad goodbyes, and a few hopeful "i'll see you soon's" at the Staff College, I ventured back across the uncharacteristically calm Mall Road (site of sunday's Lahore Marathon, controversial for their decision to segregate the sexes during the race, and for the threat of extremist hooligans declaring their intent to beatup women who dare disgrace themselves by running in the race), which could take up to five minutes to cross due to never ending volumes of chaotic lahore traffic, and returned to the hotel, where Judy had just returned from a last minuted carpet shopping adventure and Pat was pulling her hair out wondering if she would ever make her 2.30 flight. With a few of our Pakistani friends remaining behind to see us off, we took the photo you see above.
Safely at the airport twenty minutes later, we bid a frantic Pat goodbye, I buy a thirty dollar ticket to islamabad at the ticket counter, share a nice chat and tea service with another Fallen Angel, Nisar Ahmed, who was on our flight to Islamabad, and who never fails to mention Charlton Heston and the Ten Commandments movie and the wondrous beauty of costar Judith Anderson. And yes, he mentioned the Ten Commandments again at the airport, though Judy and I pretended not to know what he was talking about. We did listen intently to his method of comparing the works of western poets like Frost and Elliot with the ideas expressed in the Holy Kuran to draw the interest of his english students at his school in the Swat region. He says it's very successful and we look forward to hearing more details about which passages and poets he uses, marvelous idea...
after a brief puddle jump on an old Fokker prop plane we land in islamabad and take in the blessedly cleaner air. We are soon whisked away to the gorgeous five star maximum security Serena Hotel in Islamabad, but not before forcing our car through throngs of families and friends swarming the airport driveway to welcome their begarlanded loved ones returning from their Hajj in Mecca, quite a sight indeed. It seemed as if we'd never see the light of day so many people were miiling about and blocking the way. Though the mood was festive, it was definitely not a place to roll down my window and start yelling, "Long LIve George Bush!" Instant stonings would have befallen us... anyhoo, back at the Serena, owned by the benevolent and tasteful Pamiri philanthopist and bazillionaire Aga Khan, Judy soon discovered her reservations were not in their system and they claimed the hotel was overbooked until FEb second. Well, some artful cajoling from our USEFP savior Shelale Abbassi set them straight and they suddenly 'found' an open 'Executive Suite'... not bad, not bad... two rooms, beautifully appointed, one a sitting room with satellite tv, free internet hookup for the laptop, free mini bar, and a huge tray of complimenary pistacios, cashews and almonds... damn, we've really been roughing it out here! after a delicious buffet meal eaten under the influence of live tabla and sitar music in the restaurant downstairs, Zeenat Tariq, one of our teachers, and her lovely family picked me up and drove me to there lovely house in the posh F Sector of Islamabad. They welcomed me into their home as a family member and i somehow found room for a second late night dinner of minced mutton and potatos and delicious and tender chapathis.. mmmm.. after a nice chat and several power yawms we all retired, and i fell into my first good, deep sleep in a long time... on the road less taken, and despite the latest state dept. travel warning asking Americans to 'defer travel to Pakistan due to terrorist activity', i feel this path chosen is going to make all the difference...

Delhi belly...

Judy, Shannon, Pat and I at the Qutb Minar site in New Delhi.

Beautiful Humayun's Tomb in New Delhi, a fine example of Mughal architecture, though built with red sandstone, considered to be a precursor of the white marble Taj Mahal..

Emily, Trevor and I reunite halfway around the world at the Sweets Corner restaurant down the street from my hotel in New Delhi. Trev and Em departed for the snowy slopes of the Himalayas in Manali. I will join them in just over a week!




Sea-Chickens in the Superbowl!!!!
A giant shout out goes to our beloved Seattle Seahawks and to the people of the Pacific Northwest and Seahawk fans around the globe, who have suffered incalculable distress, melancholia, and suicidal tendencies over the past 30 years of the team's existence when season after season brought disappointment and heartbreak. I daresay this news means f-all to people in south asia, where Cricket seems to dominate every conversation, sports page and television newscast.

Well, the inevitable happened saturday night. Though I'm known among close friends for my ability to forcefully distend my abdomen so I look like I'm pregnant, my bloated belly saturday night was beyond my control. The ameoba's took over my gastro-tract and had a party so raucous that all other guests were forced to leave. I'll leave it at that. Needless to say, Sunday was a waste, as I was wasted with fatigue and fever... but thanks to lots of water, sleep and a miracle pill called Levaquin (thanks Dr. Nick!) I'm on the up and up today, just in time to fly to Lahore, Pakistan this evening. If we're lucky we'll catch the tail end of the anti-american protests filling the streets of Lahore with thousands of angry young men venting their rage at the Great Satan, but mostly angling for a few brief seconds of fame on CNN or Al-Jazeera. Should be interested times in Lahore. I'll file a report from the hotel tonight, apparently our hotel there has a real 'Business Center'...

Well, our time here in Delhi has been fascinating. The workshops last week went very well, with a passionate and enthusiastic group of participating english teachers from around India contributing to it's success. Of course none of this would have gone off well without the dedication and passion of our own SATTP fellows, and the tireless staff at the U.S. Educational Foundation-India (USEFI).

When we finally got some free time to enjoy the sights and sounds of Delhi, we found ourselves blown away by the grandeur, and even the grotesqueness of all aspects of life here... oh no, time is cut short again.. our taxi to the airport is here...

More from Lahore!!

And finally, a happy XXth birthday today to my dad, Barry Gordinier. Not sure he can read this up at Sun Peaks resort in eastern B.C., but keep on making those turns on the hill dad!

Back Online!

Me in front of the Lotus Temple, a gorgeous Baha'i temple in New Delhi
Some students at the Kendriya Vidyalaya school put on an enchanting play for us!

Namaste! Sorry for the delay in posting everyone, it's been a bit more challenging than I anticipated accessing the internet here in Delhi. In fact it's been a bit of a cosmic joke played on me... We're supposed to have internet at my hotel... but not once has it been working when I've checked. We were supposed to have internet at the conference center where we had our workshops, but everytime i went to use their business center it was down. I came to the Khan market to use a cybercafe and it had closed before i got there! i now have some time to post, and now the cybercafe is closing!! i'll post many more stories and pictures later tonight if possible now that the the first workshop has come to an end and we have some time to breathe a bit. In short, India is amazing, bombarding the senses at every turn. The sights, from the Taj Mahal, to the Qutb Minar, to the chaotic bazaars of Old Delhi, to the chaotic streets where an everyone for themselves survival of the fittest mentality exists... elephants, camels, cows, not uncommon sights in traffic as well.. to the heartbreaking scenes of crippled street children begging for alms at your car window at the stop light, to the grand majesty of the Red Fort along the Yamuna river and the glorious Rajpath, the central boulevard of the city where Ghandi's funeral procession took place in front of millions in 1948. alright, more to come, but in the meantime, enjoy some pics...

Off to the land of curries and pekoras! Namaste South Asia!

top photo: A farewell dinner (ok, mostly for Tuya before her return to Kyrgyzstan) at Indique...
Bottom photo: Tara and Beau say adios!
While Em and Trev said farewell to family and friends with a farewell bash to end all farewell bashes, complete with keg-stands and civil disturbances, my farewell gathering was a relative tea party, but surrounded by my good DC friends and a cameo from none other than La Chilena mas 'chill' and old school friend, Tara Hayes, who could ask for more?... Ok, off to the sub-continent, first stop, New Delhi for the first South Asian Teacher Training Project Winter Workshop 2006. I'm very excited to see my teacher friends from last summer, recall the good times, meet their families, and get to see their cultures and countries up close. I have a feeling I'll experience a lot of India 'up close.' We'll arrive Saturday at 1am, then whammo, India will hit me like a sonic boom! what to do first? probably sleep... then wander through the sea of humanity out on the streets, savoring the sights and sounds and scents, all in the grand pursuit of finding a bar that will air the Seahawks playoff game! ok, maybe it's a longshot in New Delhi, but ya gotta believe, it's the Sea-flea's year! Alright, more from India!