Love and Chaos, Chaos and Love

"If you are really preparing for the reality of human existence, preparing for groundlessness, you are living on the razor's edge, and you must become used to the fact that things shift and change. Things are not certain and they do not last and you do not know what is going to happen. If you start to have a direct honest relationship with reality, you know you're asking for trouble because it's not always going to congratulate you, it's not going to confirm you, it's not going to be convenient. And in the process you learn how life itself pulls out the rug."

 ~ Pema Chodron, from this lovely article No Right, No Wrong, (slightly edited)

Two days after flying back from the climactic warmth and social chill of the tourist-centric Canary Islands, I left a very cold England to arrive this afternoon in New Delhi, India. The temperature is comfortable, and the traffic jam on the drive to my hotel gave me the chance to make eye contact and smile at other stranded motorists who probably weren't having as much fun as I was. I'm tempted to say that India is washing over me right now, but it feels more like it's coming from the inside out. What ever it is about this crazy place that touches me so deeply, is blossoming today. Was I really just in England? A couple sentences ago it says I was - but wow, I'm really here, and India is really SO Indian! 

One of my favorite words of late is "authentic." One way to consider what is authentic is to look at what's not: virtually everything on television; virtually everything out of any politician's mouth; fashion magazines; most things that someone are trying to sell you and the selling process itself; and giant resorts built in what had been a desert. But leave Las Vegas out of this. Authenticity is real natural food, compared to packaged survive-nuclear-fallout quasi-food; a heartful and present conversation rather the than kiss-kiss-love-ya-babe nonsense; maybe going slower instead of faster; and being yourself rather than posing as someone you're not. Be yourself. Speak from the heart. Slow down. And don't pose.

India is authentic, in ways you sometimes wish it wasn't. It's rough, often dirty, always confusing - but it's genuine; it's the real thing. And nobody can pull a rug out from under you like India. As Pema would tell you, you have to be thankful for that.

Love!

Dave

p.s. I feel kind of guilty about the teasing I did in my last newsletter. So in the spirit of authentic politicians everywhere, if you are a Gigantic Naked German who somehow, and rather unreasonably, felt slighted by my comments, then I apologize. (Such authenticity - I feel so much better.)

Not so chaotic, really. The roads were widened last year for the Commonwealth Games, where athletes from around the Royal Globe compete against Queen Elizabeth. I've never seen them, but it doesn't sound that interesting to me. Her reaction time and endurance probably aren't that great.

More chaos, although this guy does know how to tie a load to his motorbike. There are big, wide lanes now, but no one pays much attention to staying in their lane. I can't tell why the drivers get mad sometimes and not others. The driver today gave the stink eye to a bus driver that would killed the whole family of a lesser man. The bus was just careening from one lane to another like they always do. At least it seemed that way to me.

Love! These kids aren't on the way to prison, it's a school bus. You can just see all their school bags hanging off the back. They were so excited to have me waving hello and taking their photos.

More love.

Friendly chaos. These boys were enjoying themselves while they cooked up some grub at their street stall.

Love and chaos, at the same time. An Indian wedding, with the groom on a horse. This is a short video. Crazy dancing, drumming, chandeliers on the heads of the worker bees, and loud music as they make their way down the street. I love it.

(The End)

Fuerteventura, Canary Islands

The Canary Islands! Wow, what a potentially interesting place. (Missed it by that much...)

The Canaries seem ridiculously remote until you see the RyanAir map of all the places you can fly in from. And when you arrive, you're surrounded by non-local sun-worshipers: old, grey-haired, frequently gigantic, sun-worshipers. I was told that 90% of the tourists in the south of Fuerteventura island are German, and 90% of the tourists in the north are British. I was chillin' with the Germans, and they party to a different set of rules than old folks where I live. I didn't know if they were filming "Grandma's Gone Wild" or auditioning for "The Biggest Loser, Germany Edition." Since I care about you, I'm not posting any photos of the octogenarians flying their freak flag, walking down the beach with all their bits waving in the breeze. You can thank me later. The tourist development I saw didn't wreck the place - only the places where they developed. Grand soulless non-communities with no center and little apparent culture. Since I wasn't driving I didn't do much exploring other than walking. But on the hour-plus bus rides in and out of the airport I got the feeling that there is a soul to be had - just not much in the resort-centric development areas.

The islands weren't named after the birds - it was the other way around. Ancient Greeks wrote about the islands, and they were a common stop-off for the Spanish when they were crossing the pond to their American holdings. In fact, Christopher Columbus stopped there on his way to getting an American holiday named after himself. (Those Indians must have been so happy to have finally been discovered!) The islands became a major hub for the slave trade, and it also represented a milestone of sorts in slavery liberation when Pope Eugene IV in 1435 announced that newly converted Christians could not be made slaves. If they didn't accept Christianity? You're on your own, pal.

Here's European colonialism in a nutshell, from a Lonely Planet summary. Amazing:

The islanders were heavily taxed and many were sold into slavery; Maciot also recruited them for abortive raids on the remaining three independent islands. He then capped it all off by selling to Portugal his rights – inherited from his uncle – to the four islands. This move prompted a tiff with Spain, which was eventually awarded rights to the islands by Pope Eugene V. Low-key rivalry continued for years, with Portugal only recognising Spanish control of the Canaries in 1479 under the Treaty of Alcáçovas. In return, Spain agreed that Portugal could have the Azores, Cape Verde and Madeira.

Tomorrow night I'm flying to India, where my sarcastic musings will no doubt take a turn for the different. After some days in Delhi I'll be volunteering with some friends for three weeks at a leprosy community in central India. I'm ready for that, me thinks.

Love, love, love,
Dave

Why do we call food "succulent" when we wouldn't want most succulents anywhere near our mouths? Umm, this looks like a tasty morsel. You first!



A rare moment with not many people around.



I presume this was intentional.



The ocean and beaches are incredible. Fuerteventura island is very much like dry and rugged Baja California, while some of the other Canary Islands are in the Gulf Stream and are a lush green.



The island is a major destination for wind surfing and kite sailing.



I met a guy on his second day of lessons, and he was getting pretty frustrated. I gave him a pep talk, since he was learning for both of us.



Rugged mountains in the background. Clothed beachgoers in the foreground.



A dramatic sunset, with a brother and sister playing in the waves.



Two more reasons to be vegetarian, in my book.



Building blocks.



At the end of town a walkway led to a church and viewpoint.



I caught a photo of a ghost walking along the waterfront. The sky looked to be almost black to the naked eye.



Sunsets are kind of cliche for photography, but I can't help it.



The working lighthouse in Jandia.











Street lights normally give off a very photography-unfriendly green-ish light. This photo had the natural sunlight and the goofy street lights. Nice contrast, in a strange way.



You really ARE special! Just like everyone else.



From the water's edge, facing the lighthouse and town.



I included this so you could see how far south the Canary Islands are. The Google Maps link is here.



Personalized tourist photos, courtesy of the German government! How friendly is that?! These came in the mail at Brigitte's house last year, kindly noting that my speed was just over the allowable limit. Snapshot fee: 15 Euros, or about $20.


(The End)

"In this field there are no sheep."

"The tourist generally hurries back home at the end of a few weeks or months, the traveler, belonging no more to one place than to the next, moves slowly, over periods of years, from one part of the earth to another."
 ~ Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

"Whatever. Just go travel if you want and enjoy yourself. Forget about what anyone else is doing."
 ~ Dave Adair

Dear people-iest people,

Why do I feel the need to tell you? I've no idea, but here goes: I'm flying tomorrow morning to one of the Canary Islands, to spend a week with my friend Brigitte, from Munich. The island is either called Fuerteventura or maybe Rosario, although Google Maps says something about La Oliva. What am I, some kind of Canary Island historian or  something? Yeah, I don't think so. It's off the coast of Morocco, near Western Sahara. (So Western Sahara is a country? This is embarrassing.) My English/Australian mate Keith is waking up at 3:30 a.m. so he can give me a ride to the airport. What a saint.

When I'm back next Wednesday, I'm staying at Saint Keith's again for two nights before flying to India. I'll be there for maybe six months, and I've found a barn to store my van in while I'm gone. Adventure awaits!

Much love,

Dave

While this sign is indeed accurate, (there were in fact no sheep in the field,) it is wholly incomplete. There are So Many Things that were not in this field! A HUGE number of things.

One picture? That's it?!

(The End)