unaccustomed earth

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me:  unaccustomed earth
him: unaccustomed earth

.......hmmm

.......by amsterdam by ian mcewan
me: ..my lover

.......jhumpa lahiri

.......unaccustomed earth that is
him: :)

.......our lover

.......yes

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I am yet to finish the book. Honest to goodness I have not started the book. I have been meaning to ... like a whole host of other things. 

Some may think I am a procrastinator. I think I have written somewhere in this space on procrastination, but I can't be sure of it now. It really doesn't matter as I am sort off rambling while I wait for Mr. Dalai Lama chaser to be done with his official phone calls to address some of my queries. 

One thing for sure, my mother is a better fixer.

I may a one-heck of a great travel itinerary planner, but mom is a GREAT fixer.

After 3 weeks I've been unsuccessful at getting anything straight for Ethiopia - still counting the days for anything to materialise and given up on chasing ... thank God Yogie-Beary-Bear's  biz school acceptance came in! Uh huh definitely a coward's way out but that solved a whole lot of issues. So, Ethiopia - the unaccustomed earth - for now is postponed; right on the back burner till my Beary-Bear is done with school again. Sigh. Biz School - this deserves a separate blog entry.  

Swiftly I moved on. Deciding since it's so difficult to take time off work, I am going somewhere. But not just any where. Since the India Lonely Planet hardly ever leaves my night stand, I decided to flip the pages open and play with it until my fingers unconsciously stops the rhythmic movement and that is where I shall go!

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Sikkim

A week ensued with research on Sikkim.

Losoong. Chaams. Monastery. Himalaya. Frozen lakes.

I'm in. The last fact has not sunken in although I may have irritated at least half a dozen people with this question: "How cold will Sikkim be in mid to late December?", although I know very well that they wouldn't have a clue. Possibly less than me given my recent  research.

Sikkim unfortunately is frightfully turning out to be another unacustomed earth.

Does anyone know anything about Sikkim?

Can they ever get the dates straight? 

Try calling Sikkim tourism offices in Gangtok, New Delhi and Kolkata. Ha! The dates are all different.

Try surfing the net. 

God Bless these people who bothers to write articles and information, but truly there is a significant difference between Losar and Losoong. 

And is Kagyat a dance or a chaam? 

Anyways, just when I am almost done sorting this mess out with the help of a seasoned travel documentary photographer and his pal, stringers with CNN and AP ... I am now being introduced to some relative of a relative of a friend of so-and-so (ok - I'm exaggerating this a bit so that you get the feel of my buzzing head, especially me, who suffers no fools). About 10 minutes ago I was told you MUST have a tour guide to get in and out of Sikkim. Well, I knew about the permits and all ... but do I really need a guide? I don't mind a fixer, but I don't want a commercial tour guide... 

Well, I am determine to get through this second unaccustomed earth ... but be prepared for a fury of not-so-prim-and-proper words.

Daoism and me...

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Either I am fat or my tissues are degenerating faster than anticipated.
Why?

I can no longer stand on my feet for long.
"Can't take my weight" as they put it. They, as in fat or old people.
So, I got to be either.

I know when it's gonna rain.
And boy did it pour Persians and Dachshunds this weekend.

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I thought he had left.
He, as in, the 9 Emperor God that brings the rain. A myth? Who knows?
But after 'camping' around some teow chew opera troop for 2 consecutive weekends, I know that much. Plus, it's his death anniversary, not birthday, they are worshipping. He, as in, the 9 Emperor God. They, as in, the daoist people.

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I've always said I am a daoist.
I like the hairdo of the men - the knotted bun that sits right on top of their heads, covered with a tiny piece of cloth, tied with a rope or occassionally adorned with a gold string and bead. Some how I associate it with modern-day eunuch. Not that I've met or seen a traditional eunuch. Or modern day eunuch for that matter. Who knows? My brain is wired slightly weird.

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I've always said I am a daoist.
I like the bamboo 'sticks' in the bamboo holder. The one that I shake . shake . shake . till the odd one falls. I present it to some grouchy lady behind the desk with deep lines running across her face. Lines that were there from years of frowning, and not because of age itself. She hands me a little piece of paper that prophecises my future.
I can't read it of course. Just horizontal and vertical lines, with occasional dots here and there.
I won't understand a word she says of course. I'll be able to tell the dialect only.
So I give her a respectful nod, a half smile (not sure if a full hearty smile is allowed in a shrine, so better be safe) and drop my 5 ringgits into the slit on the table top.
Then dutifully I date and write the location of the shirne on the little piece of paper and put them in the little drawer when I return for safe keeping. Just in case.

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I've always said I am a daoist.
I love incense. Coils. Cone. Long sticks. Short sticks. Slender sticks. Thick sticks - as large as my thighs (but lets not go into diameter or circumference estimates here please ... it's my thighs!!! )
I once bought 800 ringgits worth of insence from Chatuchak (Ja.tu.jak) Market in Bangkok, Thailand. It filled a third of my attic space. It took me 5 years to consume them. It's gone now. But I have been tersely banned from incense. I am possibly the only person in the entire whole wide world banned from incense.
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.Photo © Penelope Gan - All Rights Reserved

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Funny.
I was banned from incense due to gross possession of them.
Not because I nearly burnt a temple down with incense.
Chinese New Year. Jalan Tukang, Kajang.

See, if just wouldn't go 'off'. The flames.
It went 'off'. I did my 'thing'. By the time I had stuck 3 sticks x 2 altars, it went ablaze ... like crazy. All 36 sticks. I waved the 36 sticks of flaming incense with great force and velocity some 5 to 6 times to get it back to 36 sticks with tiny smouldering tips. Did my 'thing' again. In less than a minute the damn 33 sticks burst into a ball of fire ... and within a minute, 12 inches of length was drastically reduced to a dangerous 4 inches height of an uncontrollable torch of sticks.

I yelled "HELP!"
I was ignored.
They were all doing their thing. Deep concentration is needed I guess when one consults the Gods.

I said "HELP! Somebody help me!"
More deliberate avoidance on their part. I know this for sure coz by that time I was running around waving this ball of fire above my head like a lunatic.

In great desperation I yelled, "@#$%"
"The temple is going to burn down and it does NOT HAVE INSURANCE!"

Ahhh... that did the trick.
Four men came rushing ... I wonder to this day what's their profession.
Insurance Agents? Financial Planners? Bankers? Risk Assessors? Fire men?
Who knows?

My Ralph Lauren khakis has 4 huge holes in them.
The little paper's prophecy for that year wasn't good. The Gods must have been raving mad at me...
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I am no longer a daoist.
Wait a minute. I never was a daoist.
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still @ work

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Yup. 19:45 hrs reads the time on my Cisco IP Phone that sits about -6 degrees from this window I am typing on and I can't help but cast the occassional glace at ... I frankly only look at the phone after official hours. I generally pretend it doesn't exist during working hours even when it rings ... but... but... hey! I do pick the phone up reluctantly with my hand that feels as if it was made of cast wrought iron ok?

Who am I expecting a call from? you ask.
No one. I'll be rather surprise if anyone at work calls me now.

Friends would generally call my mobile, that apart from some official and semi-official work, is mostly flooded with Digi messages and whoever Digi sells my dreadful database to.

Man... you must think I have NO LIFE @ tis very moment.
19:48 hrs now.
Still @ work.
Drafting a script for the CEO.
Where the {blip} is corporate communications? you ask.
Home. Partying more likely.

I got a short and sweet response from him - the CEO - earlier today that went like this:

"Maybe a little reminder about how proud we should be in terms of our accomplishments – and not possible without concerted team effort – as well as “through this survey” we learn how to gel better and therefore perform and deliver better. Sort of connect the success of the bank with the lessons we learn and the strong engagement among the teams.

Other wise ok."

... before I rushed off to a rather interesting training about employment termination and dismissals and the law.

ahhh... boy do I know or DO I KNOW about dismissals.

Constructive Dismissals especially.

See, I should be jubilent today. I got my first of ( ...errr... was it) 10 (or 12?) installments of my Constructive Dismissals compensation cheque from my ex- ex-employer.

Well, I guess I am relieved to have received something - not mentioning that by the time I was done with the conciliation, court proceedings and dealing with the lawyer ... I had very little hope and recourse other than imprisoning the Directors ... though I'd rather imprison the junior lawyer that once relieved my 'real' lawyer of his duties when he went for his pligrimage.

Then again, between you and me, at that very day, that very moment, I am certain that it would have been me behind the bars for pulling the trigger of the Beretta (not) at my ex- ex-employer, (not) at the Industrial Court Chairman but at my own lawyer!

Yes, I've reached that level of inexplainable rage only once in my lifetime and it was at that dreadful moment in the Industrial Court Chairman's chambers.

Anyways, ... you guessed right. I can't think of how to re-write the goddamn script.

I've got photos to take over the weekend (and more to process).

I received a DVD from the Malaysian AIDS Council today and between myself and another volunteer, I've to work on 7 multimedia photo essays ...

and all I'm thinking of right now is:

do NOT forget to extract the DVD out of the PC's processing unit under the desk

how do I tell Mr. So-and-So that I am ditching him on a planned trip to make way and standby for Afghanistan

{ how do I get a copy of a travel guidebook on Afghanistan??? anyone??? }

{ yeah it's obvious what to tell so-and-so, do I care what so-and-so thinks/feels is secondary - I am not a mean person, but mr. so-and-so is getting plenty annoying - how could anyone consider matchmaking us?!? idiots!!! }

I've decided I've got a BIG crush on someone ...

 { how is this possible??? he reminds me of someone I detest?!? plus there's only 9 google entries to his name whilst mine strecthes 14-pages and more ... if you bother to look between the other mumble jumble ... ok, his are all professional related. Mine aren't - quite - professional related but hey, isn't that evidence I HAVE A LIFE? A balanced one. :p }

OK.
I should just concentrate and finish off the damn script and think of hitting the road.
Time to spend time with both the Rovers in my life.
:p
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gawd! LOOK at them!!!

.Photo © Penelope Gan - All Rights Reserved

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Nope.

Not the disinterested and jaded Chinese opera musicians in the foreground.

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Nope.

Not the Chinese opera actress on center stage.

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But... but... yeah, those people at the center - back part of the photo.

Those people with some black box with glass attachment slung over their necks!!!

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OK.
So, what do I have against them? you asked.
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Nothing.
Seriously nothing other than the lack of basic human decency and civic mindedness.
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I mean, seriously ... look at them. Hoarding the center stage.

Blocking the view of others - well, noted, the number of audience to any Chinese operatic act today is nothing more than a handful, if lucky, but still?!?

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And trust me. The situation got worse backstage - for those who managed to wrangle their way in. I guess the entire objective for the night was to ensure that no one else got a decent shot, if you yourself weren't successful at securing one yourself.

And how is this done? you asked.
Well, either stick your entire unappealing body, or any body part, or even your camera, lens, mono-pod, tripod, whatever!!! into every other photographer's frame.

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How?

Simple. Just stand near every opera actor/actress backstage. It ain't matter if you are done shooting him/her, babe. The idea is to stay put. Stand there. Deprive another person from taking it. Simple as that.

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See, as most of you know, I generally am rather empathetic to those with a camera slung over their neck. I usually put up with the unfounded competitiveness and assertiveness, occasional lies they tell to get the subject to participate, to gain access, etc ... I tell myself:

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"aiyah, these folks need to cari makan"
"it's their rice bowl"

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Heck! I make excuses for them ALL the time when they* constantly and repeatedly disappoint NGOs they agree to work for either pro bono or for a pittance.

But recently it has been bugging me. A lot.
Whilst admittedly I had a good laugh at the lovely and talented Travel Photographer - Tewfic El-Sawy's recent blog entry POV : WTF! This Is My Photo Shoot! on similar experiences during his Bhutan photo expedition - and frankly (sorry Tewfic), I thought he was being a bit over-the-top (in a nice way, like I do too :p), gawd! was he RIGHT!!! And while I took deep breaths controlling my rising anger and concentrating on his words, I managed not to elbow any of the photographers - mostly wannabes - backstage.

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I mean, it annoys me a lot when I took the trouble to do research, tracked the troop down, made proper polite approaches and finally get access to deal with gatecrasher monkeys! who were solely interested in self gratification by like minded folks in tasteless forums and the likes, with a few building up their stock photo collection.

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So, with the paparazzi frenzy going on with a medley assemblage of cameras, I will have to continue following this troop to hopefully an obscure location next to complete the project of documenting the lives of the Chinese opera troop members in the interest of preserving our culture ... though there's still time, but bummer! I'll have to take time off work {which I am preserving annual leave for Ethiopia} and it will incur unnecessary costs on my part. I guess this is part and parcel of doing things pro bono.
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\* there's exception to the rule here ... I adore some of my professional friends who are absolutely angels
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when the going gets tough, the tough gets going ...

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I'm really loving Matt Phillips (with a double 'L') and Jean-Bernard Carillet (with a double 'L').

who?!?

The guys who wrote these for 'Don't Leave Home Without ...' tips:

• flip-flops for those toe-curling bathrooms
• earplugs in case you don't agree with the bus driver's music selection
• sink plug - water is very precious

and 'Fast Facts' such as:

• average number of plaits in the Tigrayan shoruba hairstyle: 38
• 24,748 days: length of time Italy took to return Aksum's obelisk

But my all time rofl favourite is:

• US$7.7 million: Italy's cost of returning the obelisk (inflation's a bitch!)

And with that ... Matt Phillips (with a double 'L') and Jean-Bernard Carillet (with a double 'L') had caught my undivided attention nightly for 30 minutes before I give in to gravity - the falling eyelids.

Coming from a nation where anything exceeding 100-years old is considered very, very old, it's difficult to phantom and visualise anything about Ethiopia which has an existence since 3.5 million years ago; a place that has seen the arrival of Semitic people from Saba' during the 1st millennium BC, survived the invasion of warriors from the Islamic state of Adal, overcame the Jessuit missionaries attempts to convert their emperors from Coptic Christians to Roman Catholics, witnessed the rise and fall of Benito Mussolini, right to the recent demarcation of Eritrea-Ethiopia border. In short, this is a country with powerful and religious ancient civilisation to boast off and one that has much to offer in terms of historical sites juxtaposed against natures rich bounty - earning itself the name The Horn of Africa.

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If that isn't enough to engaged me, surely names like like Gondar and Bahar Dar would - delightfuly tickling my imaginations of scenes from Lord of the Rings! So for now, especially now - when the going gets tough - all I can think of is packing my bags to ... {gulp} yes, Ethiopia! And seriously, why not?

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oh, one last thing, can anyone tell me what the below means? A search result I got when I was searching for VISA information, which naturally led to looking for an embassy ... err... I can't possibly be expected to go to Beijing to get a visa for Ethiopia right?

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Ethiopia Embassy , Malaysia

No 3, Xiu Shui Nan Jie, Jian Guo Men Wai PO Box 100600 Beijing China 100600

Phone:+86-10-65325258 +86-10-65325318 +86-10-65321972

Fax:+86-10-65325591 +86-10-65327904

Email: ethchina@public3.bta.net.cn

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feeling the blues ...

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It's amazing how exhausting being angry and depress is. The energy that saps from your body. Physically. Emotionally.

I am at my usual 'on-NOoooo-danger' point. The one where I would do one out of the three things that I would indefinitely regret later. And how do I know this? I've been there one too many times!

• run off to some god forsaken country to work for a reasonably (not terribly) obscene amount of money only because other sane people would not embark on. Generally extremely under-developed. Ultra conservative and religious. Dangerous (by western- CNN media in particular type of portrayal). Or a combination of the above mentioned.

• go back to school. uh huh - this explains my law drop out status and partly my medical school drop out decision - but really, it was the imagery of 1.5 metres of snow in my mind that saw me packing and bolting for the door. Yes, vision; i.e. in my head - not yet happening, but in any case it was better this way than me freaking over my first cadaver.

• get into a 90-degrees-drop-type-roller-coaster relationship with usually a war photographer. Either in the romantic or professional sense. Both tried. Both failed. And when both combined ... combustible... though I am still feeling the void. Photo? or Person you asked. hmmmm... this requires some internalising.

The interesting {or strange} thing is, whenever I am in this state of mind - the 'on-NOoooo-danger' point - goddamn INSEAD, Wharton, Harvards and the likes loves pursuing me and sends me those lovely thick glossy brochures with fresh smiling faces of hopefuls in tailored {at worst Thomas Pink} type of shirts ... hmmm... how come then none of these eligible looking men existed in any of my classes or my business school campus? Anyways, the thing is I do NOT need any more executive programme development. It's a wonder I survived MBA the first time around. I don't even like reading management articles, let alone think {highly? definitely not! just plain 'think') of the supposedly 'gurus' of management.

And strangely enough, I get an odd phone call {skype - now that we've moved on with technological advancements ... poor sir graham bell} if I'll consider Lahore, Pakistan. hmmmmm... again, dangerous (by western- CNN media in particular type of portrayal) but what do I really know.

To top it up all - and no surprise how this blog entry ends - I got a out-of-this-world message, out-of-the-blue from a well published and regarded war photojournalist. I've never worked with him before. As in on any NGO type work. We've met once. Shot sort-of together. 'Sort-of 'coz he did his stuff, I did mine. When I'm in the blues at work I take sneak peaks - easy - just google images since he's so well published ... and I get my ratio for the week.
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I can't explain why I love war photography and yet I freak out at the sight of a cadaver.
I can't explain why I enrolled into Med-School, when I know I'll freak out at the sight of a cadaver.
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