As I continue to reconnect with some incredibly intriguing friends from my childhood, I'm finding out just how LITTLE we really changed on the inside. During childhood, I suppose it's part of the process to experiment with one's own identity and thus your outward demeanor. Trying a million new personas as we discover our own individuality. As we work our way through our school years, we make new friends, lose contact with old ones, have new relationships, move to new schools, get slapped by ex-girlfriends (::rubs his cheek::)...forever reinventing who we are in the process..at least we thought we were. I think no matter what color we change out hair color to (hahaha...it was green), no matter what music we stuck in our tape decks. No matter what reason we stopped drinking TAB soda for...perhaps our true nature existed long before we even realized we could TRY to alter it.
Sure...we all did some stupid stuff, and in the process, maybe we sent out the wrong message about ourselves to the people around us, but I think in the end, that the journey of trial and error helped us all realize that WHO we are on the inside...never really was the issue at all. Without those experiments in altering our demeanor...could we have really been able to flesh out the actual individual hidden under the disguise. Life doesn't come with an instruction manual, and each of us it seems, figured it all out for ourselves..ultimately adding to just how unique we've all become (besides...if there was a manual, it would be an awfully boring place to live).
I can recall a thousand stories about hundreds of people I use to know (I guess technically...I still do). People assumed lost from my life for countless reasons involving all manner of plot twists in the "game" of LIFE (maybe, whatever it was they needed to teach me, I learned the first time we met in life (just thought of another post)). However, each time I rediscover someone from my past, I seem to find that even if they've changed their demeanor a little...their nature is just as I remembered it. I guess we were, who we needed to be, long before we needed to be them.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
Sometimes It Doesn't Need To Be The Same
Sometimes it just becomes all too easy to give in and walk the beaten path, follow the rules, become what your expected to be. However, there will always be those moments, those experiences, with those certain people, that will make your world a different place. They seem to effect your ability to stay inside the lines, make you see that sometimes it really may be better on the other side. If each choice we make creates our path through existence, could it be too much to for one to look back and see the other paths we could have chosen had we only seen from a different perspective. Would the pain be too much to bare, would the visions effect your reality in unforeseen ways, ways that could cause even more pain and trouble. If everything DOES happen for a reason...was it the RIGHT reason? Were the choices made then, really the best decision, or simply just the easiest?
Life seems to throw A LOT of curve balls, it will never leave you to an existence where you can't just hang on for the ride. Don't let those barriers prevent you from following the path you WANT to lead, and don't always allow your head to make all the decisions, because sometimes your heart is all too willing to disagree. I won't lie, life can be incredibly trying, and the issues each one of us face can seem debilitating at times. Think of them as trials and tests, a chance to face your demons, exposing themselves finally, so that they can be dealt with on your terms. If you turn away, if you allow the monster to dictate your actions, to mandate your life, then you have already lost.
Dreams Be Dreams
...well summer came along and then it was gone
and so was she but not from him
because he followed her just to let her know
her dreams are dreams
and all this living is so much harder then it seems
but girl don't let your dreams be dreams
you know this living is not so hard as it seems
don't let your
dreams be dreams
your dreams be dreams...
-Jack Johnson
Life seems to throw A LOT of curve balls, it will never leave you to an existence where you can't just hang on for the ride. Don't let those barriers prevent you from following the path you WANT to lead, and don't always allow your head to make all the decisions, because sometimes your heart is all too willing to disagree. I won't lie, life can be incredibly trying, and the issues each one of us face can seem debilitating at times. Think of them as trials and tests, a chance to face your demons, exposing themselves finally, so that they can be dealt with on your terms. If you turn away, if you allow the monster to dictate your actions, to mandate your life, then you have already lost.
Dreams Be Dreams
...well summer came along and then it was gone
and so was she but not from him
because he followed her just to let her know
her dreams are dreams
and all this living is so much harder then it seems
but girl don't let your dreams be dreams
you know this living is not so hard as it seems
don't let your
dreams be dreams
your dreams be dreams...
-Jack Johnson
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The Innocence Of Inspiration Lost
Inspiration for the creative, is like the lifeblood of their existence. To lose touch with such a gift, is like going deaf or blind, and endless hollow feeling in the deepest parts of one's essence. No one seems to know why inspiration ebbs and flows, but it seems at least possible, to find it once it's lost.
For me, I always wanted to be an artist, to create amazing beauty with nothing more then my own imagination. I guess that's what made it so easy for my teachers to push me so hard in public school, down that path that I seemed almost destined to travel. I wanted to make that passion for color and shape a career, making it a very easy choice to pursue a degree in the Fine Arts.
College however did little to encourage that inspiration. My art became work, it became a constant series of trials designed to prepare me for a life of artistic compromise at the hands of corporate executives and fickle clients. Although I finished school with pride in my heart and the drive to succeed at that which I always strived to become, I had lost my innocence. Art was no longer my escape from reality, it was the bane of that reality. No longer was playing with color and shape a chance to express myself, it was a job, that although it paid the bills, it did little to help me find the quiet inside my mind.
I'd like to tell you that there's an easy fix, that a single event can simply open the flood gates, and all those unique thoughts that once motivated your creativity will come cascading back into your consciousness, but that would be a lie. I can tell you, that it will return, even if in short bursts, it will come to you, especially when you least expect it to. After all, it never really left, it only went on holiday. I've found that events in your life will trigger the ebbs and flows, while an illness can sap it from you, the trials of that experience can just as easily return them to you when it's over. The loss of a loved one can make a soul go numb with pain, but those memories you shared can bring forth new ideas and renewed motivation.
My advice, never give up on what inspires you to be creative. It was always there for you, be there for "it" when the inspiration returns to your veins. Sometimes it can be a struggle, almost like your forcing it, that's just the habit forming, tomorrow it could be second nature again.
For me, I tend to find my inspiration not in a crowded Art Department, developing next year's hot selling soccer ball, but in painting and drawing for others. This past Christmas, I did a piece for my unofficial brother-in-law as a gift. I took a few days of well deserve peace, and I was happier for it. I found my REAL imagination that week, not the formally educated and corporate influenced nonsense I'm forced to tap each and every day.
I guess what I'm trying to say is: Don't give up on it, it will be there when it's time.
For me, I always wanted to be an artist, to create amazing beauty with nothing more then my own imagination. I guess that's what made it so easy for my teachers to push me so hard in public school, down that path that I seemed almost destined to travel. I wanted to make that passion for color and shape a career, making it a very easy choice to pursue a degree in the Fine Arts.
College however did little to encourage that inspiration. My art became work, it became a constant series of trials designed to prepare me for a life of artistic compromise at the hands of corporate executives and fickle clients. Although I finished school with pride in my heart and the drive to succeed at that which I always strived to become, I had lost my innocence. Art was no longer my escape from reality, it was the bane of that reality. No longer was playing with color and shape a chance to express myself, it was a job, that although it paid the bills, it did little to help me find the quiet inside my mind.
I'd like to tell you that there's an easy fix, that a single event can simply open the flood gates, and all those unique thoughts that once motivated your creativity will come cascading back into your consciousness, but that would be a lie. I can tell you, that it will return, even if in short bursts, it will come to you, especially when you least expect it to. After all, it never really left, it only went on holiday. I've found that events in your life will trigger the ebbs and flows, while an illness can sap it from you, the trials of that experience can just as easily return them to you when it's over. The loss of a loved one can make a soul go numb with pain, but those memories you shared can bring forth new ideas and renewed motivation.
My advice, never give up on what inspires you to be creative. It was always there for you, be there for "it" when the inspiration returns to your veins. Sometimes it can be a struggle, almost like your forcing it, that's just the habit forming, tomorrow it could be second nature again.
For me, I tend to find my inspiration not in a crowded Art Department, developing next year's hot selling soccer ball, but in painting and drawing for others. This past Christmas, I did a piece for my unofficial brother-in-law as a gift. I took a few days of well deserve peace, and I was happier for it. I found my REAL imagination that week, not the formally educated and corporate influenced nonsense I'm forced to tap each and every day.
I guess what I'm trying to say is: Don't give up on it, it will be there when it's time.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
It's All Relative
I find myself sitting at work just like every other weekday afternoon, quietly sitting in a room that once housed thousands of files and folders, now it contains some of the most talented people I've ever met. I find myself more comfortable within these four walls, then I do confined in my own apartment. I even had them paint the walls in neon colors to drown out the lack of windows (except the window in front of my desk, but that only looks out into a giant warehouse).
I sit at a desk littered with toys and strange trinkets which somehow despite their twisted forms, bring me peace and sense of ownership around my work space. While some of these objects resemble a child's playroom, others are hints at my past: like a Cat In The Hat maquette, which we used as a reference for designing items for the movie a few years back, a 4ft wide POS display hanging on the wall, which I designed for Sports Authority the other week, foam projectiles for use in our new backyard paintball game, and a pen I picked up at a booth at the Toy Fair in NYC last year.
The room smells of pizza, as the company rewards it's employees today for a record breaking February, and of ink toner as the multitude of printers in the room attempt to keep up with the work load we inflict upon them on a daily basis. The sound of buzzing computer CPU's is lost under the random shuffle of my Ipod playing through a set of speakers in the corner of the room, on a shelf intended for printer consumables.
Everyone is quiet, the typical lunch silence, as artists come and go on their way to run errands and meet lunch buddies. However, in this room, the artists can just as suddenly break out into a wiffle ball game, or a discussion on the works of Georgia O'Keefe. The open air office, despite being a sacrifice in privacy, provides a grand soap box with a very opinionated audience.
Strange that the people you work with, spend more time with you in a day, then any loved one at home. Yet, would you be friends if work hadn't forced you to cross paths? I take the time to look over the computer screens of the other artists to review their progress, although the sight of websites and flash motion jumping around on their screens only reinforces the need for people to take a minute or two break between projects and gather up their creativity for another round of mind numbing production. A situation I understand all to well.
Funny how Ipod shuffle seems to pick the most obscure stuff from your music library, I should probably get the Muppets Christmas album off their until December. Next to my desk on the floor is a pile of paintball gear that needs to find it's way into my car's trunk at some point, at least the spare gear is there for the rookies playing this weekend. It's so easy to get lost staring into the face of some random monster action figure (I think his name is Bernard) from the book "Where The Wild Things Are" (I have the whole set on my desk), and dream about things totally unrelated to work, thank God it's still lunch hour.
I have a Dilbert calendar on my desk, it was a gift, I always hated Dilbert, but working in an office, makes some of those jokes all too close to home, today however, the joked sucked. I've been working on developing a packaging theme for our baseball line for what seems like years now, it's rather unmotivating, yet the packaging is probably some of the most progressive stuff the company has ever put out. I think the first time I see an entire planogram of it in Walmart, I may just drop to the isle floor and puke.
It seems almost scheduled that the e-mails I received around 12-1 EST are always from the west coast, at least their sleeping in China right now. At least with the 68 pizzas, I don't have to buy lunch today. Why is the phone on my desk from 1972, I should buy a cordless. I remember when we went through and removed most of the fluorescent lights from the ceiling fixtures years ago, now it always seems like the sun is setting in here (nevermind the bright orange wall we painted). Maybe that's why I feel like I'm going blind. I suppose it's time to grab hold of this trackball mouse for another 3 hours and hammer out more baseball designs, while all the while......
Thinking about you.
I sit at a desk littered with toys and strange trinkets which somehow despite their twisted forms, bring me peace and sense of ownership around my work space. While some of these objects resemble a child's playroom, others are hints at my past: like a Cat In The Hat maquette, which we used as a reference for designing items for the movie a few years back, a 4ft wide POS display hanging on the wall, which I designed for Sports Authority the other week, foam projectiles for use in our new backyard paintball game, and a pen I picked up at a booth at the Toy Fair in NYC last year.
The room smells of pizza, as the company rewards it's employees today for a record breaking February, and of ink toner as the multitude of printers in the room attempt to keep up with the work load we inflict upon them on a daily basis. The sound of buzzing computer CPU's is lost under the random shuffle of my Ipod playing through a set of speakers in the corner of the room, on a shelf intended for printer consumables.
Everyone is quiet, the typical lunch silence, as artists come and go on their way to run errands and meet lunch buddies. However, in this room, the artists can just as suddenly break out into a wiffle ball game, or a discussion on the works of Georgia O'Keefe. The open air office, despite being a sacrifice in privacy, provides a grand soap box with a very opinionated audience.
Strange that the people you work with, spend more time with you in a day, then any loved one at home. Yet, would you be friends if work hadn't forced you to cross paths? I take the time to look over the computer screens of the other artists to review their progress, although the sight of websites and flash motion jumping around on their screens only reinforces the need for people to take a minute or two break between projects and gather up their creativity for another round of mind numbing production. A situation I understand all to well.
Funny how Ipod shuffle seems to pick the most obscure stuff from your music library, I should probably get the Muppets Christmas album off their until December. Next to my desk on the floor is a pile of paintball gear that needs to find it's way into my car's trunk at some point, at least the spare gear is there for the rookies playing this weekend. It's so easy to get lost staring into the face of some random monster action figure (I think his name is Bernard) from the book "Where The Wild Things Are" (I have the whole set on my desk), and dream about things totally unrelated to work, thank God it's still lunch hour.
I have a Dilbert calendar on my desk, it was a gift, I always hated Dilbert, but working in an office, makes some of those jokes all too close to home, today however, the joked sucked. I've been working on developing a packaging theme for our baseball line for what seems like years now, it's rather unmotivating, yet the packaging is probably some of the most progressive stuff the company has ever put out. I think the first time I see an entire planogram of it in Walmart, I may just drop to the isle floor and puke.
It seems almost scheduled that the e-mails I received around 12-1 EST are always from the west coast, at least their sleeping in China right now. At least with the 68 pizzas, I don't have to buy lunch today. Why is the phone on my desk from 1972, I should buy a cordless. I remember when we went through and removed most of the fluorescent lights from the ceiling fixtures years ago, now it always seems like the sun is setting in here (nevermind the bright orange wall we painted). Maybe that's why I feel like I'm going blind. I suppose it's time to grab hold of this trackball mouse for another 3 hours and hammer out more baseball designs, while all the while......
Thinking about you.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Even The Poets Dare Not Dream About It (Part 2)
The power behind first love:
In retrospect, I seem to have given a lot of thought to the idea of "first love" and how much influence that person ends up having over your life. No matter how little your willing to admit, the first person you fall in love with, will forever effect your experiences in romance and relationships.
In my own experience, that person still holds an incredible amount of power over me. I find myself happily married and far beyond those days in Junior High School when love came knocking on my door, yet no matter how much time attempts to carry me forward through life, I continue to look back on that part of my history. I suppose it's because your first love is the one who literally molds your heart, prepares you for a life of love and heartache as you struggle to basically "practice" love on each other. it's therefore only natural I guess that for a heart they themselves molded, they would of course possess a key that fits perfectly into it's lock, giving her almost a free pass into the deepest parts of my soul, and there seems little I can do to stop that. (At least I can admit this.)
I simply don't understand it all I guess. It can be years, with no contact, but it only seems to take the mention of their name to bring a million emotions, and a thousand memories to the surface, to break down every barrier you've ever had to put up around your heart, in defense of ever having it shattered to pieces again. Like a Gothic castle covered with towers and ramparts, and yet one person in the world seems to know about the secret passage leading inside. Just hearing their voice can again conjure those magical spells they had woven around you when love first found it's way through your unsuspecting soul ( a voice it seems, you can listen to for hours on end). It can seem almost second nature to submit to their wishes and give into those spells again, and when you do cross paths, time seems to stand still, as if time is willing to grant a reprieve while you glance back through the past. It's like every cheesy "chick flick" and love song rolled up into a single storyline, filled with all the clichés our society would allow in one plot.
As time goes on, your tastes will change, your life will most definitely change and you'll move forward with existence, having a billion new experiences that will ultimately shape your person. You'll love again and you won't be capable of stopping yourself from comparing EVERY relationship to that first one, whether you consciously do or not. You'll most likely experience marriage, finding that one person your most comfortable sharing the rest of your life with, ultimately falling in love for the LAST time and forever turning your back on the nightmare of dating. However...there will always be a space reserved in your heart for that person who first taught you HOW to love, and WHY we do.
I think I finally realize now, that it just can't be helped, it's the power behind "first love".
I wish everyone is as lucky as I was, when they experience love for the first time...and for that, I can only thank her for helping to show me the way.
In retrospect, I seem to have given a lot of thought to the idea of "first love" and how much influence that person ends up having over your life. No matter how little your willing to admit, the first person you fall in love with, will forever effect your experiences in romance and relationships.
In my own experience, that person still holds an incredible amount of power over me. I find myself happily married and far beyond those days in Junior High School when love came knocking on my door, yet no matter how much time attempts to carry me forward through life, I continue to look back on that part of my history. I suppose it's because your first love is the one who literally molds your heart, prepares you for a life of love and heartache as you struggle to basically "practice" love on each other. it's therefore only natural I guess that for a heart they themselves molded, they would of course possess a key that fits perfectly into it's lock, giving her almost a free pass into the deepest parts of my soul, and there seems little I can do to stop that. (At least I can admit this.)
I simply don't understand it all I guess. It can be years, with no contact, but it only seems to take the mention of their name to bring a million emotions, and a thousand memories to the surface, to break down every barrier you've ever had to put up around your heart, in defense of ever having it shattered to pieces again. Like a Gothic castle covered with towers and ramparts, and yet one person in the world seems to know about the secret passage leading inside. Just hearing their voice can again conjure those magical spells they had woven around you when love first found it's way through your unsuspecting soul ( a voice it seems, you can listen to for hours on end). It can seem almost second nature to submit to their wishes and give into those spells again, and when you do cross paths, time seems to stand still, as if time is willing to grant a reprieve while you glance back through the past. It's like every cheesy "chick flick" and love song rolled up into a single storyline, filled with all the clichés our society would allow in one plot.
As time goes on, your tastes will change, your life will most definitely change and you'll move forward with existence, having a billion new experiences that will ultimately shape your person. You'll love again and you won't be capable of stopping yourself from comparing EVERY relationship to that first one, whether you consciously do or not. You'll most likely experience marriage, finding that one person your most comfortable sharing the rest of your life with, ultimately falling in love for the LAST time and forever turning your back on the nightmare of dating. However...there will always be a space reserved in your heart for that person who first taught you HOW to love, and WHY we do.
I think I finally realize now, that it just can't be helped, it's the power behind "first love".
I wish everyone is as lucky as I was, when they experience love for the first time...and for that, I can only thank her for helping to show me the way.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Even The Poets Dare Not Dream About It
How strange is it that a single emotion can be the cause of so many other feelings, on completely different ends of the emotional spectrum?
One moment you can feel like the world is passing you by, leaving you alone in a sea of doubt, and no matter how hard you try to stay afloat, there is a sinking feeling in your soul as hopelessness slowly sets in. The next thing you know, you've found that ultimate desire, that one thing you've searched for your entire life, that one missing element that completes you, your world is brighter and it seems like Heaven has truly found it's place on Earth, at least for you. Then, like some inevitable antagonist, the poison slowly works it's way into your life again, eating away at all you hold dare. When you finally recover from being hit across the face by fate, you find yourself looking back out upon that sea of doubt once more (wow that is one large ocean).
A single emotion, part of an unlimited palette of different feelings a person can have in their lifetime. While other feelings, other experiences, fade away, finding their home in the distant memories of a long life, this one never falters, and once you feel it, it forever boils at the surface of your consciousness, bringing forth every other feeling along with it.
Some people renounce it, claim life is easier without the trials involved, turning their backs on something they believe causes more harm then good in the end. Others beg for the opportunity, believing that they are missing out on the greatest gift we have to give, forever hoping for it to finds it's way into their lives. It seems that no two people can completely agree on how to handle it, yet in one way or another, we've all experienced it.
Think of it like that perennial plant you'll ultimately find yourself purchasing this spring for one reason or another:
You'll choose it from what seems like an endless amount of similar choices. You'll turn it around in your hands, unfairly comparing it to every other plant at the flower shop. You'll probably pay more for it then you were planning, but when you take it home, it will look perfect in it's designated location. You'll take care of it, glancing at it when you feel like it, to help cheer you up, to get you through another day in this world. It will bloom, bringing brightness to your life, and when you look at it, you'll smile. Then one day, you'll take it for granted, you'll forget to give it the attention it needs to survive (maybe something else in life grab your attention and became a new priority), but the plant will wither and go limp. Oh you'll try to water it again, re-pot it, give it food, but it will just turn brown and die. Without another choice and all that remorse, you'll take the bulb from the pot and throw it in the ground under the tree in the backyard, forgetting about it while life continues to sweep you up in other experiences. One day you'll be sitting out in the backyard, looking at that tree, reminiscing about the past, but losing all the details in translation, and you'll see that sprout....and you'll remember again. You'll go out there every day to check on it, to hope. Slowly your attention will be rewarded with a new plant, bigger and stronger then when you first bought it, it will reach for the sky, and bring joy and happiness. Yet each time it will ultimately die with the first frost. How strange that it seems to take so much punishment, but always returns again, stronger then it was at first.
It is a tricky word, it means so much to so many people. There are a million ways to describe it, and yet it seems so powerful at times, that it will go places that even poets dare not dream of. However, be careful, although it holds ultimate power of those that bow to it's influence, it can bring pain that may seem unbearable, and cause a wound to open, that may never heal.
One moment you can feel like the world is passing you by, leaving you alone in a sea of doubt, and no matter how hard you try to stay afloat, there is a sinking feeling in your soul as hopelessness slowly sets in. The next thing you know, you've found that ultimate desire, that one thing you've searched for your entire life, that one missing element that completes you, your world is brighter and it seems like Heaven has truly found it's place on Earth, at least for you. Then, like some inevitable antagonist, the poison slowly works it's way into your life again, eating away at all you hold dare. When you finally recover from being hit across the face by fate, you find yourself looking back out upon that sea of doubt once more (wow that is one large ocean).
A single emotion, part of an unlimited palette of different feelings a person can have in their lifetime. While other feelings, other experiences, fade away, finding their home in the distant memories of a long life, this one never falters, and once you feel it, it forever boils at the surface of your consciousness, bringing forth every other feeling along with it.
Some people renounce it, claim life is easier without the trials involved, turning their backs on something they believe causes more harm then good in the end. Others beg for the opportunity, believing that they are missing out on the greatest gift we have to give, forever hoping for it to finds it's way into their lives. It seems that no two people can completely agree on how to handle it, yet in one way or another, we've all experienced it.
Think of it like that perennial plant you'll ultimately find yourself purchasing this spring for one reason or another:
You'll choose it from what seems like an endless amount of similar choices. You'll turn it around in your hands, unfairly comparing it to every other plant at the flower shop. You'll probably pay more for it then you were planning, but when you take it home, it will look perfect in it's designated location. You'll take care of it, glancing at it when you feel like it, to help cheer you up, to get you through another day in this world. It will bloom, bringing brightness to your life, and when you look at it, you'll smile. Then one day, you'll take it for granted, you'll forget to give it the attention it needs to survive (maybe something else in life grab your attention and became a new priority), but the plant will wither and go limp. Oh you'll try to water it again, re-pot it, give it food, but it will just turn brown and die. Without another choice and all that remorse, you'll take the bulb from the pot and throw it in the ground under the tree in the backyard, forgetting about it while life continues to sweep you up in other experiences. One day you'll be sitting out in the backyard, looking at that tree, reminiscing about the past, but losing all the details in translation, and you'll see that sprout....and you'll remember again. You'll go out there every day to check on it, to hope. Slowly your attention will be rewarded with a new plant, bigger and stronger then when you first bought it, it will reach for the sky, and bring joy and happiness. Yet each time it will ultimately die with the first frost. How strange that it seems to take so much punishment, but always returns again, stronger then it was at first.
It is a tricky word, it means so much to so many people. There are a million ways to describe it, and yet it seems so powerful at times, that it will go places that even poets dare not dream of. However, be careful, although it holds ultimate power of those that bow to it's influence, it can bring pain that may seem unbearable, and cause a wound to open, that may never heal.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Fighting Grendel
It seems each of us, in our own way, fights an enemy we can never truly overcome. Everyday we wake up to our very own Grendel, who lurks behind every corner, waiting to gain the upper hand in a war of against ourselves. This enemy within seems to take on countless forms, different for each of us. For some it can be chronic illness, for others the pain of loss, and yet still others who now stand on the front lines of a war in a foreign land, far from their loved ones. Each moment of pleasure can remind us of that hidden pain. Each perfect day, overshadowed by that struggle within.
Like the hero Beowulf, we live (in part) to deal with this monster, fighting a battle we ourselves perceive as hopeless, yet we fight all the same. Forever trying to defeat, an enemy that at least in some way, is part of who we are.
For me...I face an enemy that although I can scare, I can never kill...for it will surely kill me first.
Two years ago I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes. Having the illness makes me one of 18.2 million Americans who have the disease, and for anyone who doesn't know much about the illness, there is no cure. The disease is caused when your body doesn't produce enough insulin to break down the sugars in food, or you body simply builds a resistance to it's own insulin. The disease itself is not life threatening, however the countless complications caused by the illness can cause all manner of major medical conditions, including: Heart disease, Kidney failure, Liver damage, Heart attack and stroke, ultimately leading to death.
I guess you can say it was a matter of when, not if, for me. All three of my living grandparents have the disease, an uncle, an aunt, and my mother. With a disease that is transmitted by genetics, I was doomed to possess it.
Initially, I was incredibly angry about the news, I struggled with the ever popular "Why me?" question. However, I turned all that energy into researching and learning about Diabetes. Using knowledge as ammunition in my own personal war. I exercise more then I ever have, and eat like someone who owns stock in Whole Foods Stores. Since being diagnosed, I have had no symptoms, no complications, but everyday I still wake up to my Grendel. Despite every effort I make to contain the monster, it isn't going anywhere soon.
A friend of mine, posted a bulletin about deathclock.com today, my results said I'd live until 2071. I laughed, and then decided I'd write this blog entry, in defiance to this damn disease, it's something I rarely speak of, I think this is the first time, I've spoken in a public place about it. Maybe it took those stupid results...to further inspire me to overcome that which it seems I can never truly defeat. Thanks Lisa.
Like the hero Beowulf, we live (in part) to deal with this monster, fighting a battle we ourselves perceive as hopeless, yet we fight all the same. Forever trying to defeat, an enemy that at least in some way, is part of who we are.
For me...I face an enemy that although I can scare, I can never kill...for it will surely kill me first.
Two years ago I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes. Having the illness makes me one of 18.2 million Americans who have the disease, and for anyone who doesn't know much about the illness, there is no cure. The disease is caused when your body doesn't produce enough insulin to break down the sugars in food, or you body simply builds a resistance to it's own insulin. The disease itself is not life threatening, however the countless complications caused by the illness can cause all manner of major medical conditions, including: Heart disease, Kidney failure, Liver damage, Heart attack and stroke, ultimately leading to death.
I guess you can say it was a matter of when, not if, for me. All three of my living grandparents have the disease, an uncle, an aunt, and my mother. With a disease that is transmitted by genetics, I was doomed to possess it.
Initially, I was incredibly angry about the news, I struggled with the ever popular "Why me?" question. However, I turned all that energy into researching and learning about Diabetes. Using knowledge as ammunition in my own personal war. I exercise more then I ever have, and eat like someone who owns stock in Whole Foods Stores. Since being diagnosed, I have had no symptoms, no complications, but everyday I still wake up to my Grendel. Despite every effort I make to contain the monster, it isn't going anywhere soon.
A friend of mine, posted a bulletin about deathclock.com today, my results said I'd live until 2071. I laughed, and then decided I'd write this blog entry, in defiance to this damn disease, it's something I rarely speak of, I think this is the first time, I've spoken in a public place about it. Maybe it took those stupid results...to further inspire me to overcome that which it seems I can never truly defeat. Thanks Lisa.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
A bloke named Chris finds himself beyond the Black Stump
Day 1:
So, after leaving Sydney, we jumped on a plane North (3 hour flight) to the tropical paradise in North Queensland, the town of Cairns. A resort town, overflowing with white beaches and tropical rainforest. I suppose Hawaii is a very close reference to the look of North Queensland. Strangely though, despite the 75-degree winter, the tourists did not crowd the area and made it quite peaceful.
After checking in at the hotel early (around noon) we decided to walk the esplanade that stretched the entire length of Cairns' waterfront (maybe 4 miles). It was like out of a postcard. The sand was white, the ocean blue, and the harbor had all these beautiful green mountains protecting it on all sides. The harbor didn't support large cruise ships or commercial vessels (their not allowed in the area) so the sea was filled with sail boats and pleasure ships. We stopped at this small sidewalk caf called the Villa Romano where I found myself trying the strangest food. That night I ordered this "Game Dinner" that was Kangaroo, Emu and Crocodile.
My analysis:
Kangaroo: Tasted surprisingly like sirloin steak. Looked almost identical to steak tips. Seemed to be a bit like rabbit (ultra gamey) insanely tough to cut.
Emu: Also looked like steak but was crimson, like the color of blood. Tender, and could be pulled apart like Chicken. Tasted like game bird or dark meat turkey.
Crocodile: The most unique of the three, looked a lot like scallops, has the consistency of pork chops and tasted like a cross between chicken and scallops (fishy chicken). Also was very dry like white meat.
Then we did some shopping, at night the waterfront turns into a giant night market with all these ultra unique and interesting pieces of art, bottled wines, and jewelry, and you can haggle the prices and suchvery fun (a Mecca for shoppers everywhere). (Side Note: remember how I said the authentic Aborigine artwork would be an important part lateryahwell) It was in the night markets and some of the surrounding shops (that never seemed to close) that I was able to seriously sit down with some real Aborigine people and discuss how to weed through all the tourist garbage and find the items I was looking to purchase. If you look long enough at a large variety of shops, you can train your eye to pick out the fraud pieces and those shops that sell the mass-produced imitation stuff (they always advertise authenticwhich is twisted, the Aborigine people may own the factorybut the machines cut and paint the wood etc.).
That was also our first night of Opal shopping. Australia is the leading world supplier of Opal stones (95f the world's Opals); many of the mines are in Queensland. It was the perfect opportunity to put something unique in Alyssa's jewelry box at a decent price. Many of the Opals we found in Sydney were overpriced and doublets or triplets (you want the singlets it's how many breaks are between the color layers of the stone), here we were finding stones that were all singlets, looked great under a magnifying glass (yah, I'm anal when I buy jewelry) and were twice as big for a quarter the price, but day 1 is just for looking
Later that night we went into a pub advertising Cane Toad racing. So Alyssa being Alyssa needed to participate. So after listening to this below average band on stageshe went and registered us as the number 2 frog and named him "Chewbacca" for the evening, the toads were huge (like the size of Bull frogs).
Rules for Cane Toad Racing:
1. All the frogs (10) got put in an upside down bucket in the center of a ring (maybe 10ft) the ref, pulls the bucket straight up and all the toads go crazy for the edge of the ring hoping and jumping out of the ring and jumping on each other's heads etc.
2. First toad to the wall wins.
First race, Chewbacca doesn't move an INCH!!! He just sits there licking his eyeball. In between races, there was this goofy ceremony where they named Miss Cane Toad for the night, from a selection of drunken girls, and all the guys in the bar bought her drinks. Then the MC, after seeing the Red Sox logo on my hat, unloaded about Americans and our stupid governmentafter which he proceeded to continue making fun of every other nationality he could think of. After the second race, and another episode of Chewbacca sitting on his butt, scratching his side with his legwe called it a night.
Day 2:
After an early breakfast, we took a bus to the town of Freshwater, where we met our Tjapukai representatives who gave us our passes for our planned day (we arranged most of this from home weeks before). We took a steam-powered train up through the sugar cane fields of North Queensland's and into the Rainforest on our way to the Aboriginal town of Kuranda. The train was slow, but the view was worth the ride, waterfalls falling down into huge basins below the rainforest canopy, the train goes through 15 different tunnels along the way. All manner of tropical birds passing by over the train cars. The town of Kuranda overall was a disappointment, mostly shops and cafes, very touristy. However, I did find an awesome dealer who was selling some great aboriginal stuff, but in typical fashion, I decided.."I still might find something better, later". There was a butterfly sanctuary in Kuranda, I would have enjoyed seeing, but we booked our day too tight and didn't have the time to fit it in.
To get down from Kuranda up in the mountains we took a skyrail (for over an hour and a half), which made three stops along the way to adjust its direction over the forest canopy. WOW, the rainforest was huge, and being only inches above it, looking down through the tree canopy made you appreciate it's splendor. Getting off at the "Adjustment points" we tagged along on some tours going on in the rainforest.
Interesting facts from the tours I listened in on:
1. There are these beautiful giant leafed plants on the rainforest floor, and they look super soft, so dumb backpackers use them to wipe their asses with. Well, um, the reason they look so soft is because they're covered with millions of tiny glasslike barbs that inject toxins. Even more stupid people, try using water to make the pain stopyet it only spreads the toxin deeper (the toxin's effects last roughly 6 months). If you want to remove the effects before thatuse tape to pull out the barbs.
2. Most of the "bushtucker" is difficult to find, and many poisonous plants look like food, but are dangerous. There are small red berries in the forest, that when ingested, will turn you blind for a couple days.
3. In the rainforest there are parasitic plants that use the trees around them to sustain themselves. One of these plants (Basket Fern) looks like a giant wicker basket the size of a small car, and hangs 100's of ft up in the canopy, using the trees around it, to hold itself up in the canopy. When it's time to seed, the baskets plummet to the ground and crash into the earth exploding. The sound of one of these falling can create stampedes of animals in the forest. (The tour guide said they sound like bombs falling from the sky).
4. The most dangerous animal is not the Saltwater Croc, the Tasmanian Devil, or any of the 20 most dangerous snakes in the world (all live in Australia). It's the Cassowary bird (the tribal totem animal of the local Aborigines). The bird is a giant flightless bird like an Enu but has razor sharp claws like a Raptor, is silent when it most, and is incredibly unpredictable. The birds live in the rainforest I was in, and the major concern about the animal is that it's so unpredictable, with no tell-tale signs of it's intentions, it can suddenly slice your entire midsection open in less then a heartbeat.
The skyrail ultimately takes you to the Tjapukai Aboriginal Park (a cultural park owned by native Aborigines, where they personally share their history and culture (it was NOT cheap to get in)). I expected the park to be a functioning village (sort of like Plymouth in MA); instead it was a lot like semi-private (small group) sit down discussions in an environment that looked sort of like a village. It gave me an incredibly understanding of their culture, past and present. They demonstrated traditional dancing techniques and the proper usage of the more common Aboriginal musical instruments. Alyssa and I were taught how to properly throw a boomerang for the best effect, and how to properly throw a spear without killing your instructor (Alyssa sucks at both). We were told the original stories of the "Dreamtime" and the "Making', they explained their philosophies on totem spirits and the proper naming of babies when their born. They taught us to find proper "bushtucker" and the use of some simple herbal medicines. They showed me how to properly play the Didgeridoo (that's important later), they can't show women really. Women are not suppose to use a Didgeridoo, the legends say that women who do, can become pregnant with evil spirits
Most difficult of all for me, was their sad stories about the recent past (last 100 years) and their oppression; how settlers enslaved them, hunted them like animals, the government paid people to destroy their culture and their villages. Only now after so much extinction are they beginning to become a nation again (they didn't have equal rights until the 70's). Of course, this rebirth looks a lot like the Native Americans and their casinos, and one Aborigine boy gloated to me about his new BMW. After the cultural park we grabbed a bus back to Cairns.
That night we bought the Opal ring in a small store in Cairns. The owner of the store ended up to be this awesome old Scottish husband and wife. They owned their own mine and we bought the ring off them personally (they had been living in this paradise, mining these stones for 36 years), I was very impressed by the service (but then againwhen you spend a decent amount of moneyyah you know the saying). We also went back to the night markets, to these two girls that sold living oysters out of a bathtub. You pick the oyster, they cut it open live in front of you, pull the random pearl out and make a necklace out of it right in front of you (we ended up with 2 peach, 1 white and 1 champagne colored). We bought these as gifts for Em, Sam and Misa back home. I took a lot of pictures to show everyone later how the small little booth was run and how they had almost ritualized the process. The coolest part was that after they made the necklaces, they gift wrapped them back into the polished shells of the oysters.
That was also the night I got the Didgeridoo, buying off a small booth in the night market that had proper documentation as the authenticity of his Aboriginal products. I had looked at HUNDREDS of "didge's" at that point, and I found the perfect one (the sound plays in key "C" sharp for anyone that cares).
Story behind the paintings on my Didgeridoo:
(Remember how I said I fell in love with the Echidnas at the zoo, well the "didge" is painted in the story of "The Echidna and the Goanna")
As the story goes, the Echidna and the Goanna were best friends during the dreamtime. While the echidna hunted for their food and fed the pair, the Goanna would guard and protect his friend the echidna from danger. One night by the fire, the echidna fell asleep, and while he slept, the goanna ate all the food. When the echidna awoke to find the food gone and the goanna's belly bulging he became furious. Grabbing a flaming red stick from the fire, the echidna began to beat the goanna, chasing him all over the outback beating and smacking him with the flaming stick. Ever since that day, the sons and daughters of the goanna remember that day with the bright red lines that criss-cross their scaled backsides
So after purchasing the "Didge" we paid the $100 bucks to ship the massive instrument home to RI, and continued the shopping spree. Next we found a vendor selling unique and original wine he was producing himself. The perfect gift for Joe and Stacey's wedding. I think we bought them "Dragon Fruit", Chocolate, and the other was "Lime Tequila" wine, and then we found these cool wine holders with Aboriginal paintings on them. We gave them the wine when we got home, because they have a wine cellar and we don't (sort of an early present I guess).
Day 3:
Today started early, as we needed to get aboard the ship and out to sea. We decided today we'd visit the Great Barrier Reef and do some snorkeling (I'm a certified diver, I have my license and have trained specialties in advanced open water and dry suit certification. However, Alyssa doesn't, and I could tell the idea of jumping into a reef of sharks and 100ft deep water was difficult for her, so I decided to snorkel with her and play bodyguard. Besides, it made the whole day lessserious and more carefree).
The ride on the bus was about an hour and a half, and follow a highway RIGHT on the coast. For the whole ride, the white beach never ceased along the roadside for a second, it was like a hundred miles of perfect beach, and I saw maybe 2 people on that entire stretch of sand. The ship we boarded was in Port Douglas (that's where all the ships ARE allowed). The ship wasn't too big, and the guests probably numbered around 30. When we sat down inside the ship, a family from Boston sat down with us, but before the ship even left anchor, the mother got sick and the family bailed on the trip then a strange couple named Anna and Gavin sat with us. They were in their 40's I'd say, but weren't married, in fact, it seemed this cruise was a romantic getaway for some exotic affair for the two. She was Swedish and had a thick accent; he was an Aussie from Melbourne. I was never really sure if they were just friendsor romantically involved, they sent weird vibes. We also met another young couple, schoolteachers from New Jersey on their honeymoon.
It took about two hours of fast traveling northeast to reach the reef. We did a total of three dives in three different locations. Again by just snorkeling I was able to just hang over the reef for literally hours, and seeing as the reef actually protruded out of the water in placesthere wasn't much need to dive anyhow. The boat typically anchored right off the reef, so the drop off the back of the boat, combined with the extensive wildlife in the water, even made me nervous jumping off. The first dive, required a little acclimation for Alyssa to build some coordination in her breathing, and some confidence in the water, but the wildlife was amazing and there was a huge amount of large and dynamic corals. On the second dive (at another location), it rained for a few minutes, but the sight of the rain hitting the water's surface was rather amazing to see, and it did little to mute the extensive colors of the reef right below the surface. I played with a small group of clownfish obsessed with their individual bubble anemones. You could also hear the Crasse fish biting the coral and making a snapping sound when you approached. At the third dive (yet another location), the reef was almost circular (known as "The Castle") and we swam around its length, bumping into two curious but friendly sharks on one side. I saw a lot of larger schools of fish on this dive (in particular a school of probably a million Blue Damsels ((numbering in the thousands at times, like clouds of rainbow colored flower pedals)). Alyssa had a lot of difficulty with the current here (she's not a strong swimmer), so I found myself jumping ahead and turning around a few times.
After returning to port, we jumped on the bus back to Cairns (again down that incredible highway) and ended the night at the only Italian restaurant we found in Australia.
Interesting points about the nature of the reef, that I learned for the first time:
1. The reef sometimes actually bunches into these massive jagged shapes that completely stick straight out of the water.
2. The dive tours (instead of damaging the reef) actually place their moorings around the reefs, each dive tour in the area, having their own mooring.
3. The territorial nature of the animals is incredibly apparent on the reef, and the dive instructors can actually find the same exact animals in the same locations each and every day. Some instructors going as far as training some of the wild animals to take food from their hands, encouraging the animals to not fear and actually approach humans in the water.
Day 4:
The last day. This was our "down day", sleeping in for a change, or trying to, we found ourselves out the door by 8am. Finished up most of the shopping, sat at the man-made lagoon for a bit watching the waves pound the beach. I decided to attempt a quick trip into the mountains to that artifact vendor in Kuranda. I paid a man $2 to drive me there (over an hour drive). The store vendor was so impressed that with my persistence that I ended up working him down 50n his goods. I ended up buying my second, third, and fourth boomerangs off him (two were gifts), a set of clap sticks, and 2 bullroarers (1 was a gift), all authentic. Another $2 dollar ride back to town and the shopping was officially done. On the ride I met two cool Aussies, both guys were from Sydney, one was an investment banker, and the other was a lawyer, they were both insanely interested in hearing about America. Talking to all these people on the trip was some of the best fun I had out there, the Australian people are so warm and friendly, and it seems that by the end of each conversation, you feel like you've known them your whole life.
Day 5:
The day from hell; our travel day started at 4am the next morning with a shuttle ride to the airport in Cairns and ended with the third plan flight of the day landing in Boston at 11pm the same day. Doesn't sound bad right, until you realize that I lived through 38 hours between 4am and 11pm (38 HOURS!!!) I could have died (I can't sleep on planes remember). Because the day kept "resetting" on me, I ate breakfast 3 times that day, the worst coming from a Chili's in L.A. (who at 10am when I arrived, was still serving BREAKFAST.ARGH!!!!!) The best part of this day was what happens to the sun when you catch up with tomorrow before the end of today. Somewhere over the Pacific, the hours jumped something like 10 hours ahead INSTANTLY, and the sun set in a matter of seconds as the next day showed up before the last day came close to ending, and within a couple hours rose again on the horizon as we caught back up with yesterday, it was bizarreit didn't seem to make any sense, but it seemed to interest everyone on the plane who was seeing it for the first time. (Did I mention that the Pacific ocean is HUGE!!!)
Final thoughts on Cairns:
-Much more laid back then Sydney
-Loved the night markets
-The food service was abysmal
-Hotel clerks are my heroes
-Super friendly people EVERYWHERE
So, after leaving Sydney, we jumped on a plane North (3 hour flight) to the tropical paradise in North Queensland, the town of Cairns. A resort town, overflowing with white beaches and tropical rainforest. I suppose Hawaii is a very close reference to the look of North Queensland. Strangely though, despite the 75-degree winter, the tourists did not crowd the area and made it quite peaceful.
After checking in at the hotel early (around noon) we decided to walk the esplanade that stretched the entire length of Cairns' waterfront (maybe 4 miles). It was like out of a postcard. The sand was white, the ocean blue, and the harbor had all these beautiful green mountains protecting it on all sides. The harbor didn't support large cruise ships or commercial vessels (their not allowed in the area) so the sea was filled with sail boats and pleasure ships. We stopped at this small sidewalk caf called the Villa Romano where I found myself trying the strangest food. That night I ordered this "Game Dinner" that was Kangaroo, Emu and Crocodile.
My analysis:
Kangaroo: Tasted surprisingly like sirloin steak. Looked almost identical to steak tips. Seemed to be a bit like rabbit (ultra gamey) insanely tough to cut.
Emu: Also looked like steak but was crimson, like the color of blood. Tender, and could be pulled apart like Chicken. Tasted like game bird or dark meat turkey.
Crocodile: The most unique of the three, looked a lot like scallops, has the consistency of pork chops and tasted like a cross between chicken and scallops (fishy chicken). Also was very dry like white meat.
Then we did some shopping, at night the waterfront turns into a giant night market with all these ultra unique and interesting pieces of art, bottled wines, and jewelry, and you can haggle the prices and suchvery fun (a Mecca for shoppers everywhere). (Side Note: remember how I said the authentic Aborigine artwork would be an important part lateryahwell) It was in the night markets and some of the surrounding shops (that never seemed to close) that I was able to seriously sit down with some real Aborigine people and discuss how to weed through all the tourist garbage and find the items I was looking to purchase. If you look long enough at a large variety of shops, you can train your eye to pick out the fraud pieces and those shops that sell the mass-produced imitation stuff (they always advertise authenticwhich is twisted, the Aborigine people may own the factorybut the machines cut and paint the wood etc.).
That was also our first night of Opal shopping. Australia is the leading world supplier of Opal stones (95f the world's Opals); many of the mines are in Queensland. It was the perfect opportunity to put something unique in Alyssa's jewelry box at a decent price. Many of the Opals we found in Sydney were overpriced and doublets or triplets (you want the singlets it's how many breaks are between the color layers of the stone), here we were finding stones that were all singlets, looked great under a magnifying glass (yah, I'm anal when I buy jewelry) and were twice as big for a quarter the price, but day 1 is just for looking
Later that night we went into a pub advertising Cane Toad racing. So Alyssa being Alyssa needed to participate. So after listening to this below average band on stageshe went and registered us as the number 2 frog and named him "Chewbacca" for the evening, the toads were huge (like the size of Bull frogs).
Rules for Cane Toad Racing:
1. All the frogs (10) got put in an upside down bucket in the center of a ring (maybe 10ft) the ref, pulls the bucket straight up and all the toads go crazy for the edge of the ring hoping and jumping out of the ring and jumping on each other's heads etc.
2. First toad to the wall wins.
First race, Chewbacca doesn't move an INCH!!! He just sits there licking his eyeball. In between races, there was this goofy ceremony where they named Miss Cane Toad for the night, from a selection of drunken girls, and all the guys in the bar bought her drinks. Then the MC, after seeing the Red Sox logo on my hat, unloaded about Americans and our stupid governmentafter which he proceeded to continue making fun of every other nationality he could think of. After the second race, and another episode of Chewbacca sitting on his butt, scratching his side with his legwe called it a night.
Day 2:
After an early breakfast, we took a bus to the town of Freshwater, where we met our Tjapukai representatives who gave us our passes for our planned day (we arranged most of this from home weeks before). We took a steam-powered train up through the sugar cane fields of North Queensland's and into the Rainforest on our way to the Aboriginal town of Kuranda. The train was slow, but the view was worth the ride, waterfalls falling down into huge basins below the rainforest canopy, the train goes through 15 different tunnels along the way. All manner of tropical birds passing by over the train cars. The town of Kuranda overall was a disappointment, mostly shops and cafes, very touristy. However, I did find an awesome dealer who was selling some great aboriginal stuff, but in typical fashion, I decided.."I still might find something better, later". There was a butterfly sanctuary in Kuranda, I would have enjoyed seeing, but we booked our day too tight and didn't have the time to fit it in.
To get down from Kuranda up in the mountains we took a skyrail (for over an hour and a half), which made three stops along the way to adjust its direction over the forest canopy. WOW, the rainforest was huge, and being only inches above it, looking down through the tree canopy made you appreciate it's splendor. Getting off at the "Adjustment points" we tagged along on some tours going on in the rainforest.
Interesting facts from the tours I listened in on:
1. There are these beautiful giant leafed plants on the rainforest floor, and they look super soft, so dumb backpackers use them to wipe their asses with. Well, um, the reason they look so soft is because they're covered with millions of tiny glasslike barbs that inject toxins. Even more stupid people, try using water to make the pain stopyet it only spreads the toxin deeper (the toxin's effects last roughly 6 months). If you want to remove the effects before thatuse tape to pull out the barbs.
2. Most of the "bushtucker" is difficult to find, and many poisonous plants look like food, but are dangerous. There are small red berries in the forest, that when ingested, will turn you blind for a couple days.
3. In the rainforest there are parasitic plants that use the trees around them to sustain themselves. One of these plants (Basket Fern) looks like a giant wicker basket the size of a small car, and hangs 100's of ft up in the canopy, using the trees around it, to hold itself up in the canopy. When it's time to seed, the baskets plummet to the ground and crash into the earth exploding. The sound of one of these falling can create stampedes of animals in the forest. (The tour guide said they sound like bombs falling from the sky).
4. The most dangerous animal is not the Saltwater Croc, the Tasmanian Devil, or any of the 20 most dangerous snakes in the world (all live in Australia). It's the Cassowary bird (the tribal totem animal of the local Aborigines). The bird is a giant flightless bird like an Enu but has razor sharp claws like a Raptor, is silent when it most, and is incredibly unpredictable. The birds live in the rainforest I was in, and the major concern about the animal is that it's so unpredictable, with no tell-tale signs of it's intentions, it can suddenly slice your entire midsection open in less then a heartbeat.
The skyrail ultimately takes you to the Tjapukai Aboriginal Park (a cultural park owned by native Aborigines, where they personally share their history and culture (it was NOT cheap to get in)). I expected the park to be a functioning village (sort of like Plymouth in MA); instead it was a lot like semi-private (small group) sit down discussions in an environment that looked sort of like a village. It gave me an incredibly understanding of their culture, past and present. They demonstrated traditional dancing techniques and the proper usage of the more common Aboriginal musical instruments. Alyssa and I were taught how to properly throw a boomerang for the best effect, and how to properly throw a spear without killing your instructor (Alyssa sucks at both). We were told the original stories of the "Dreamtime" and the "Making', they explained their philosophies on totem spirits and the proper naming of babies when their born. They taught us to find proper "bushtucker" and the use of some simple herbal medicines. They showed me how to properly play the Didgeridoo (that's important later), they can't show women really. Women are not suppose to use a Didgeridoo, the legends say that women who do, can become pregnant with evil spirits
Most difficult of all for me, was their sad stories about the recent past (last 100 years) and their oppression; how settlers enslaved them, hunted them like animals, the government paid people to destroy their culture and their villages. Only now after so much extinction are they beginning to become a nation again (they didn't have equal rights until the 70's). Of course, this rebirth looks a lot like the Native Americans and their casinos, and one Aborigine boy gloated to me about his new BMW. After the cultural park we grabbed a bus back to Cairns.
That night we bought the Opal ring in a small store in Cairns. The owner of the store ended up to be this awesome old Scottish husband and wife. They owned their own mine and we bought the ring off them personally (they had been living in this paradise, mining these stones for 36 years), I was very impressed by the service (but then againwhen you spend a decent amount of moneyyah you know the saying). We also went back to the night markets, to these two girls that sold living oysters out of a bathtub. You pick the oyster, they cut it open live in front of you, pull the random pearl out and make a necklace out of it right in front of you (we ended up with 2 peach, 1 white and 1 champagne colored). We bought these as gifts for Em, Sam and Misa back home. I took a lot of pictures to show everyone later how the small little booth was run and how they had almost ritualized the process. The coolest part was that after they made the necklaces, they gift wrapped them back into the polished shells of the oysters.
That was also the night I got the Didgeridoo, buying off a small booth in the night market that had proper documentation as the authenticity of his Aboriginal products. I had looked at HUNDREDS of "didge's" at that point, and I found the perfect one (the sound plays in key "C" sharp for anyone that cares).
Story behind the paintings on my Didgeridoo:
(Remember how I said I fell in love with the Echidnas at the zoo, well the "didge" is painted in the story of "The Echidna and the Goanna")
As the story goes, the Echidna and the Goanna were best friends during the dreamtime. While the echidna hunted for their food and fed the pair, the Goanna would guard and protect his friend the echidna from danger. One night by the fire, the echidna fell asleep, and while he slept, the goanna ate all the food. When the echidna awoke to find the food gone and the goanna's belly bulging he became furious. Grabbing a flaming red stick from the fire, the echidna began to beat the goanna, chasing him all over the outback beating and smacking him with the flaming stick. Ever since that day, the sons and daughters of the goanna remember that day with the bright red lines that criss-cross their scaled backsides
So after purchasing the "Didge" we paid the $100 bucks to ship the massive instrument home to RI, and continued the shopping spree. Next we found a vendor selling unique and original wine he was producing himself. The perfect gift for Joe and Stacey's wedding. I think we bought them "Dragon Fruit", Chocolate, and the other was "Lime Tequila" wine, and then we found these cool wine holders with Aboriginal paintings on them. We gave them the wine when we got home, because they have a wine cellar and we don't (sort of an early present I guess).
Day 3:
Today started early, as we needed to get aboard the ship and out to sea. We decided today we'd visit the Great Barrier Reef and do some snorkeling (I'm a certified diver, I have my license and have trained specialties in advanced open water and dry suit certification. However, Alyssa doesn't, and I could tell the idea of jumping into a reef of sharks and 100ft deep water was difficult for her, so I decided to snorkel with her and play bodyguard. Besides, it made the whole day lessserious and more carefree).
The ride on the bus was about an hour and a half, and follow a highway RIGHT on the coast. For the whole ride, the white beach never ceased along the roadside for a second, it was like a hundred miles of perfect beach, and I saw maybe 2 people on that entire stretch of sand. The ship we boarded was in Port Douglas (that's where all the ships ARE allowed). The ship wasn't too big, and the guests probably numbered around 30. When we sat down inside the ship, a family from Boston sat down with us, but before the ship even left anchor, the mother got sick and the family bailed on the trip then a strange couple named Anna and Gavin sat with us. They were in their 40's I'd say, but weren't married, in fact, it seemed this cruise was a romantic getaway for some exotic affair for the two. She was Swedish and had a thick accent; he was an Aussie from Melbourne. I was never really sure if they were just friendsor romantically involved, they sent weird vibes. We also met another young couple, schoolteachers from New Jersey on their honeymoon.
It took about two hours of fast traveling northeast to reach the reef. We did a total of three dives in three different locations. Again by just snorkeling I was able to just hang over the reef for literally hours, and seeing as the reef actually protruded out of the water in placesthere wasn't much need to dive anyhow. The boat typically anchored right off the reef, so the drop off the back of the boat, combined with the extensive wildlife in the water, even made me nervous jumping off. The first dive, required a little acclimation for Alyssa to build some coordination in her breathing, and some confidence in the water, but the wildlife was amazing and there was a huge amount of large and dynamic corals. On the second dive (at another location), it rained for a few minutes, but the sight of the rain hitting the water's surface was rather amazing to see, and it did little to mute the extensive colors of the reef right below the surface. I played with a small group of clownfish obsessed with their individual bubble anemones. You could also hear the Crasse fish biting the coral and making a snapping sound when you approached. At the third dive (yet another location), the reef was almost circular (known as "The Castle") and we swam around its length, bumping into two curious but friendly sharks on one side. I saw a lot of larger schools of fish on this dive (in particular a school of probably a million Blue Damsels ((numbering in the thousands at times, like clouds of rainbow colored flower pedals)). Alyssa had a lot of difficulty with the current here (she's not a strong swimmer), so I found myself jumping ahead and turning around a few times.
After returning to port, we jumped on the bus back to Cairns (again down that incredible highway) and ended the night at the only Italian restaurant we found in Australia.
Interesting points about the nature of the reef, that I learned for the first time:
1. The reef sometimes actually bunches into these massive jagged shapes that completely stick straight out of the water.
2. The dive tours (instead of damaging the reef) actually place their moorings around the reefs, each dive tour in the area, having their own mooring.
3. The territorial nature of the animals is incredibly apparent on the reef, and the dive instructors can actually find the same exact animals in the same locations each and every day. Some instructors going as far as training some of the wild animals to take food from their hands, encouraging the animals to not fear and actually approach humans in the water.
Day 4:
The last day. This was our "down day", sleeping in for a change, or trying to, we found ourselves out the door by 8am. Finished up most of the shopping, sat at the man-made lagoon for a bit watching the waves pound the beach. I decided to attempt a quick trip into the mountains to that artifact vendor in Kuranda. I paid a man $2 to drive me there (over an hour drive). The store vendor was so impressed that with my persistence that I ended up working him down 50n his goods. I ended up buying my second, third, and fourth boomerangs off him (two were gifts), a set of clap sticks, and 2 bullroarers (1 was a gift), all authentic. Another $2 dollar ride back to town and the shopping was officially done. On the ride I met two cool Aussies, both guys were from Sydney, one was an investment banker, and the other was a lawyer, they were both insanely interested in hearing about America. Talking to all these people on the trip was some of the best fun I had out there, the Australian people are so warm and friendly, and it seems that by the end of each conversation, you feel like you've known them your whole life.
Day 5:
The day from hell; our travel day started at 4am the next morning with a shuttle ride to the airport in Cairns and ended with the third plan flight of the day landing in Boston at 11pm the same day. Doesn't sound bad right, until you realize that I lived through 38 hours between 4am and 11pm (38 HOURS!!!) I could have died (I can't sleep on planes remember). Because the day kept "resetting" on me, I ate breakfast 3 times that day, the worst coming from a Chili's in L.A. (who at 10am when I arrived, was still serving BREAKFAST.ARGH!!!!!) The best part of this day was what happens to the sun when you catch up with tomorrow before the end of today. Somewhere over the Pacific, the hours jumped something like 10 hours ahead INSTANTLY, and the sun set in a matter of seconds as the next day showed up before the last day came close to ending, and within a couple hours rose again on the horizon as we caught back up with yesterday, it was bizarreit didn't seem to make any sense, but it seemed to interest everyone on the plane who was seeing it for the first time. (Did I mention that the Pacific ocean is HUGE!!!)
Final thoughts on Cairns:
-Much more laid back then Sydney
-Loved the night markets
-The food service was abysmal
-Hotel clerks are my heroes
-Super friendly people EVERYWHERE
Friday, May 4, 2007
Never Letting Go Of The Past
Have you ever considered what your life might have become, if only you had made different choices? Daydreamed about the million or so alternate realities that might exist somewhere else, where even the smallest decision may have produced a completely different life for you.
I can't helped but think about how crossing outside the lines, can effect the outcome so drastically. How sometimes you find yourself standing on your chosen path, at a point where it intersects with a road you could have potentially taken, but opted out of. Life seems so full of these instances that grant you new perspective into your past for just a glimmering moment, long enough to allow the dreams to form, to envision what might have been.
Some may say that such a person simply dwells on the past, avoiding the present, to exist in a state of comfort over what one might perceive to be the only situation they have control over. However, if life is simply a collection of our experiences, I say use what you have learned to better help you take on the thousands of choices you make each day. Consider how much a single day's decisions can so drastically alter your entire existence. Without the wisdom you possess from going out and taking on the world, how can you expect to choose your path through the web of choices you make each day.
Life is unkind, and each day brings about new challenges that we must face regardless. We sometimes tend to make rash choices through the course of a day, in hopes that their outcomes are irrelevant tomorrow. We procrastinate when it is time to make those "difficult" decisions that may or may not matter minutes later, in hopes that the "correct" answer will simply present itself to us.
Sometimes I hear people talk about how badly they try to block out their past, or actively attempt to forget the poor choices they've made and their subsequent outcomes. However, at the same time, do they not still use those vital memories to better help them avoid new failure in their present, tapping those experiences and using that acquired knowledge to prevent themselves from repeating the same mistakes again. Don't neglect your past simply because it might hurt to think about it, use it as a tool to make new choices and transcend beyond whatever it may be that you regret. Although no one can change their past, they can at least use its lessons to make for themselves a better future.
Who knows, by embracing those memories that cause you the most pain when they're recalled, perhaps you will find new meaning behind why your world turned out the way it has. Sometimes, you may even find that those situations that seemed to have caused you so much suffering, with a new perspective, now bring a smile to your face, and the confidence you'll need to take on tomorrow.
I can't helped but think about how crossing outside the lines, can effect the outcome so drastically. How sometimes you find yourself standing on your chosen path, at a point where it intersects with a road you could have potentially taken, but opted out of. Life seems so full of these instances that grant you new perspective into your past for just a glimmering moment, long enough to allow the dreams to form, to envision what might have been.
Some may say that such a person simply dwells on the past, avoiding the present, to exist in a state of comfort over what one might perceive to be the only situation they have control over. However, if life is simply a collection of our experiences, I say use what you have learned to better help you take on the thousands of choices you make each day. Consider how much a single day's decisions can so drastically alter your entire existence. Without the wisdom you possess from going out and taking on the world, how can you expect to choose your path through the web of choices you make each day.
Life is unkind, and each day brings about new challenges that we must face regardless. We sometimes tend to make rash choices through the course of a day, in hopes that their outcomes are irrelevant tomorrow. We procrastinate when it is time to make those "difficult" decisions that may or may not matter minutes later, in hopes that the "correct" answer will simply present itself to us.
Sometimes I hear people talk about how badly they try to block out their past, or actively attempt to forget the poor choices they've made and their subsequent outcomes. However, at the same time, do they not still use those vital memories to better help them avoid new failure in their present, tapping those experiences and using that acquired knowledge to prevent themselves from repeating the same mistakes again. Don't neglect your past simply because it might hurt to think about it, use it as a tool to make new choices and transcend beyond whatever it may be that you regret. Although no one can change their past, they can at least use its lessons to make for themselves a better future.
Who knows, by embracing those memories that cause you the most pain when they're recalled, perhaps you will find new meaning behind why your world turned out the way it has. Sometimes, you may even find that those situations that seemed to have caused you so much suffering, with a new perspective, now bring a smile to your face, and the confidence you'll need to take on tomorrow.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Why You Need To Figure Life Out For Yourself
I grew up a good little Catholic boy (at least in my demeanor), I attended church (somewhat forced by my parents), played altar boy a few times, helped out with Sunday school, and participated in CCD class. In all that time, I listened for answers that it seemed, I was never really given. Your expected to believe blindly in your faith, but they don't ever tell you why. Religions frighten us with eternal damnation, and horrors unspeakable. They tell us to follow these suggested guidelines without question, but they can't even agree on which guidelines to follow.
Attending college changed all those questions, and although it presented new ones, I at least felt I possessed the power to find my own answers. At school, I decided I'd minor in Art History, afterall, why be ignorant of the past, if it is what we use to figure out our future. My professors were very strict about our perception of the works we looked at, they believed (as I do now), that in order to understand the artwork, you must understand and respect the people that created it. In order to understand those people, you must understand their cultures, their traditions and their beliefs. I therefore found myself studying as much theology and philosophy as I did actual artwork.
I was fortunate enough to have an academic advisor who honestly cared for my success, and fought very hard to supply me with the knowledge I needed to understand what it is I was looking for. She guided me into electives that could help bring enlightenment to my core studies, and gave me access to resources that the average student tends to overlook in their research.
During this time, I found an incredible amount of information pertaining to early Catholicism, Islam, Judaism, Daoism, Hinduism, Buddhism (as well as countless other religions) and the roots of those belief systems. I found myself uncovering the answers some people would rather have unknown. The details of acts done in the name of faith, but can only be described as unspeakable evils, inflicted onto humanity simply because of people's blind faith in their masters. From those days forward, I sought my own answers.
my ideas:
Why would we exist on a planet, alone it seems, in a universe so large (seems like an awfully big waste of space), unless whoever put us here, had a reason for keeping us isolated. Maybe this place is more then just the third rock from our sun. Maybe the reason we a forced to witness the abominations of evil, is so that we can truly understand the good in this world. Why would we always have to face so much terrible tragedy in our lives, unless it was there to help us to appreciate all the wonderful things we hold so dear in our hearts.
Would it help to explain why we all seem to consider life so difficult, a challenge each and every day. How we struggle to exist, to make do, and possibly make our single presence known in a sea of unique individuals. Are we here, in this place, filled with such incredible experiences such as love, compassion and fellowship, and yet also more then filled with the horrors of hate, greed and loss, to learn and understand some intangible lesson.
Perhaps if life is but a single lesson, a lesson we learn through our many experiences (good and bad), then when we finally understand, wouldn't it be time to move on. Could death, in all it's randomness, be explained by simply understanding that maybe, when one person finally figures out why they are here to learn, they die, only to be reborn anew, ready to take on the challenge of learning the next of these universal lessons.
Maybe there are different lessons, understood at different times, in separate lives. Could that explain why we are all so very unique from one another. Perhaps that might explain why in the span of our delicate lives, we get the opportunity to meet so many others, unique in their own ways, yet invaluable in the relationships (good or bad) you share with them. Would this explain why our friends, our family and our neighbors interweave their lives with our own, so that we may help to teach what it is, that we need to understand in this life.
I can't help but look in retrospect to the life I have lived thus far, and think about the people that have come and gone through my life, and how those people, no matter how much or how little we interacted, have impacted my own understanding of who I am and where I am going.
I believe I can be proud of my efforts, and I can appreciate everything I have been fortunate to see and do, although it seems, there is still so much that still needs to be done in this life. I'm not content with simple existence, I've sacrificed some of the material desires of our society, so that I can focus my efforts on my experiences. I believe you can never stop yourself from learning, and that's why the Master's degree looms on the horizon. I give thanks for the opportunity to meet so many people in my job, and my travels, so that I can continue to broaden my understanding of humanity and what my role is in the grand scheme of some infallible power.
Attending college changed all those questions, and although it presented new ones, I at least felt I possessed the power to find my own answers. At school, I decided I'd minor in Art History, afterall, why be ignorant of the past, if it is what we use to figure out our future. My professors were very strict about our perception of the works we looked at, they believed (as I do now), that in order to understand the artwork, you must understand and respect the people that created it. In order to understand those people, you must understand their cultures, their traditions and their beliefs. I therefore found myself studying as much theology and philosophy as I did actual artwork.
I was fortunate enough to have an academic advisor who honestly cared for my success, and fought very hard to supply me with the knowledge I needed to understand what it is I was looking for. She guided me into electives that could help bring enlightenment to my core studies, and gave me access to resources that the average student tends to overlook in their research.
During this time, I found an incredible amount of information pertaining to early Catholicism, Islam, Judaism, Daoism, Hinduism, Buddhism (as well as countless other religions) and the roots of those belief systems. I found myself uncovering the answers some people would rather have unknown. The details of acts done in the name of faith, but can only be described as unspeakable evils, inflicted onto humanity simply because of people's blind faith in their masters. From those days forward, I sought my own answers.
my ideas:
Why would we exist on a planet, alone it seems, in a universe so large (seems like an awfully big waste of space), unless whoever put us here, had a reason for keeping us isolated. Maybe this place is more then just the third rock from our sun. Maybe the reason we a forced to witness the abominations of evil, is so that we can truly understand the good in this world. Why would we always have to face so much terrible tragedy in our lives, unless it was there to help us to appreciate all the wonderful things we hold so dear in our hearts.
Would it help to explain why we all seem to consider life so difficult, a challenge each and every day. How we struggle to exist, to make do, and possibly make our single presence known in a sea of unique individuals. Are we here, in this place, filled with such incredible experiences such as love, compassion and fellowship, and yet also more then filled with the horrors of hate, greed and loss, to learn and understand some intangible lesson.
Perhaps if life is but a single lesson, a lesson we learn through our many experiences (good and bad), then when we finally understand, wouldn't it be time to move on. Could death, in all it's randomness, be explained by simply understanding that maybe, when one person finally figures out why they are here to learn, they die, only to be reborn anew, ready to take on the challenge of learning the next of these universal lessons.
Maybe there are different lessons, understood at different times, in separate lives. Could that explain why we are all so very unique from one another. Perhaps that might explain why in the span of our delicate lives, we get the opportunity to meet so many others, unique in their own ways, yet invaluable in the relationships (good or bad) you share with them. Would this explain why our friends, our family and our neighbors interweave their lives with our own, so that we may help to teach what it is, that we need to understand in this life.
I can't help but look in retrospect to the life I have lived thus far, and think about the people that have come and gone through my life, and how those people, no matter how much or how little we interacted, have impacted my own understanding of who I am and where I am going.
I believe I can be proud of my efforts, and I can appreciate everything I have been fortunate to see and do, although it seems, there is still so much that still needs to be done in this life. I'm not content with simple existence, I've sacrificed some of the material desires of our society, so that I can focus my efforts on my experiences. I believe you can never stop yourself from learning, and that's why the Master's degree looms on the horizon. I give thanks for the opportunity to meet so many people in my job, and my travels, so that I can continue to broaden my understanding of humanity and what my role is in the grand scheme of some infallible power.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
"Tearing At The Flesh Of Reality"
Reality can render life unkind.
It shrinks around you like a collapsing bubble.
Slowly losing air through the thousands of pin holes,
your actions have created in this life you live.
Yet it's smooth walls are like pitch.
leaving the only real illumination in life,
emanating from those tiny holes in reality's dark membrane.
It seems the more you scratch and tear at those holes,
trying your whole life to witness what lies beyond your existence.
The less light there seems to be for which to see those choices,
Yet all the more air there is to breath and thus to live.
In the darkness within, eyes seem to fade white.
Essence made milky by the lack of vision.
Their perspective distorted by consistency.
The thirst lost, for answers sacrificed,
as the stale air extinguishes the soul,
leaving the shell, without the being it once housed.
But the ever shrinking universe that is our reality,
Is warm and comfortable with familiarity.
Like the womb of a caring mother, it grants us peace.
Human nature makes it all too easy to leave us little choice,
but to curl up in the black and embrace it's temptation.
For to resist the dark and tear through those holes,
is to invite the horrible pains we must first endure,
as we break free from the chains that bind us to this realm.
Giving birth to another life, where the eyes can finally see,
without the bubble's twisted distortions.
It shrinks around you like a collapsing bubble.
Slowly losing air through the thousands of pin holes,
your actions have created in this life you live.
Yet it's smooth walls are like pitch.
leaving the only real illumination in life,
emanating from those tiny holes in reality's dark membrane.
It seems the more you scratch and tear at those holes,
trying your whole life to witness what lies beyond your existence.
The less light there seems to be for which to see those choices,
Yet all the more air there is to breath and thus to live.
In the darkness within, eyes seem to fade white.
Essence made milky by the lack of vision.
Their perspective distorted by consistency.
The thirst lost, for answers sacrificed,
as the stale air extinguishes the soul,
leaving the shell, without the being it once housed.
But the ever shrinking universe that is our reality,
Is warm and comfortable with familiarity.
Like the womb of a caring mother, it grants us peace.
Human nature makes it all too easy to leave us little choice,
but to curl up in the black and embrace it's temptation.
For to resist the dark and tear through those holes,
is to invite the horrible pains we must first endure,
as we break free from the chains that bind us to this realm.
Giving birth to another life, where the eyes can finally see,
without the bubble's twisted distortions.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
An Aussie Sheila Named Sydney
Traveling, something I promised myself I'd do after school was over. To see the world and stand before all those wondrous things we read about in books and see on TV, and along the way meeting a million or so incredibly interesting people that I cross paths with in my journeys abroad.
When I speak to different people back home about traveling the world, I seem to find two sects of personal opinions on the subject: Those that dream of traveling, and if given the opportunity would gladly jump on a plane with me and run away to a far off place, and that other group of people that seem to come up with a hundred excuses why it's simply too much of a hassle to leave their quiet little corner of the world, and seem all too content to live out their lives held up under their rock.
So, this past August, I decided I'd make the longest of my trips...Australia, a most unique and incredible place on the opposite side of the planet.
Day 1+2:
Let's start with the obvious downside to traveling around the world...the flight. I'd really like to encourage you all and say it wasn't that bad...but, it's worse. Traveling from Boston to Sydney took 27 hours of continuous travel (the worst being the 18 hour flight from L.A. to Sydney), and the INSANE time change associated with that. When I arrived in Sydney it was 7:30pm on Sunday, yet my body was damn sure it was 5:30am (Saturday actually just about never existed for me that weekend (because of the drastic time zone change)). I can't sleep on planes...I have no idea why...so I read A LOT, and Quantas is awesome about movies and such, so I just about caught up with every movie I've never seen...EVER.
When we landed in Sydney and went through customs I got my first taste of Australian humor, as security went through my luggage in search of Ranch Dressing (I'm serious, they have major issues with ranch dressing), for whatever reason Americans smuggle ranch dressing into Australia..is simply beyond me (actually it's the chicken eggs in the dressing). The cab driver...like all cab drivers...was from a country foreign to the one he works in, mine was from Italy. Although I'll come to find out that Sydney is really one of the most culturally diverse places on Earth. Off to the hotel to force myself to sleep off the jet lag.
Day 3:
The next morning we ventured out into Downtown (my hotel was smack-dab in the center of the downtown area). For breakfast we found a cute little street side cafe (just like the other thousand or so in the area). I ordered a breakfast sandwich...but in Australia...they put BBQ sauce on their eggs...it was...interesting. (NOTE: food in Australia is expensive, although you NEVER tip, seriously. Also take care about what you order, sometimes the menus with contain items your familiar with, only when it comes to the table…your scratching your head. Meat pies are a favorite over there, but their meat pies…DISGUSTING). After breakfast we visited Sydney's Chinese Gardens in downtown, near the waterfront. It seems that the Australians have been making serious efforts to have stronger relations with their Asian neighbors, and the Chinatown in Sydney is an obvious example of the growing influence of Asian culture in Australia, especially Sydney. Afterwards, we walked the wharfs for a bit. Most of the Sydney area is waterfront. The city itself is actually divided up over the length of the bay, on both shores. A great deal of traveling through the region is done on ferry, hydrocraft, or water taxi. My second encounter with Australian humor was during a ferry ride, when someone pointed of that the tower that controls all the births in the harbor is known as "The Pill". Another example from that day was the Office of Records in Sydney, which handles the country's birth, marriage and death records...or as they call it "The Hatch, Match and Dispatch Office". (SIDE NOTE: the public transportation system is amazing, and CHEAP. For almost pennies you can traverse the area for days. They have a visitors pass called "The Sydney Pass" it's like $30 American, and can keep you moving around the city for days.)
After our "Walkabout' we jumped on and off the buses for a bit, did the basic tourist junk and got an overall feel for the city. Visited Bondi Beach that day, it was also my first glance into the giant tourist industry and how so many people try to sell knock off Aboriginal artifacts. However I did find one authentic Aboriginal owned store in Sydney, but he was very overpriced. I ended up purchasing one of my boomerangs there, as well as some incredible paintings of the "dreamtime" ...worth every penny (I never saw another artist like that for the rest of the trip-that's important).
Day4:
Today we decided to get outside the city a bit and see some of the sites beyond the city limits (The city of Sydney is technically like 50 miles wide). We visited the Featherdale Wildlife Refuge, got my chance to hang out LITERALLY with Kangaroos (very charismatic when you play with them...they seem to love little kids), Koalas (so timid, until you feed them...), Wombats (oblivious)..and just about every other Australian animal you can imagine. It's a cool place, with the exception of the more dangerous animals like Crocs and Cassowaries, you can interact with them, their not caged or anything, they just run free. Although I don't think the Kookaburra birds like people much.
Wentworth Falls was just a photo op, but being in the Blue Mountains brought up a great point. In Australia...the horizon is always a deep shade of blue, not the sky...the landscape. Next time you look into the sky, take note of how the sky slowly fades to white the closer it comes to the horizon line. In Australia...it's the opposite...the horizon turns MORE blue. Why, because of the Eucalyptus leaves. There is so much oil in the leaves, that when it evaporates...it turns the horizon blue. The down side to all this oil in the leaves…is forest fires. In Australia they have an incredible amount of forest fires, however, because it's such a natural occurrence, the plants and animals have built up defenses against the fire. Animals dig deep into the ground and wait out the flames, while trees and plants build up extra layers of bark that they can strip away after the fire is out.
While up in the Blue Mountains, we went on this God awful train ride down the steepest (52 degree) grade railroad IN THE WORLD...that was just crazy. We had tea (I had tea 8,000,000 times on this trip) up on a Cliffside and headed back towards Sydney. The bus's final stop (the tour was only 17 people) was the Olympic park…horrible. If you've even been to the one in Montreal, it's just as depressing and drab. It just seemed so lifeless, even the Aussies I was with, made fun. The biggest joke was the 18 million dollar Baseball stadium (they don't PLAY baseball in Australia, although just to build interest, their fielding a team in the upcoming World Baseball Classic). We jumped on a ferry at the Olympic village back to downtown (central Sydney dock is called "Circular Quay").
Traveling down the bay gave me a chance to see the suburban areas a little more and it seemed life as usual just outside the downtown area. We arrived just after dark and stopped by a pub for dinner in "The Rocks" part of town (the original settlement in Australia…now home to about 100 pubs). On the subject of drinking and pubs, the workday in Australia ends at 5pm, NOONE works late, even the retail stores close. EVERYONE in town, no matter their social class, their job, their ethnicity gets together in the pubs and drinks the night away...EVERYDAY. It's amazing, the whole city, every night, would just turn into a massive pub crawl (oh and only tourists drink Fosters).
That night we made our way, walking back through the city and found myself walking right into a chase scene being filmed for Superman the movie. I guess many of the movie studios now do a great deal of their production in Australia due to tax breaks and incentives. It was rather interesting to see how they had modified the area of town into "Metropolis" architecture and were going as far as washing the street with fire hoses with one crew of workers, while another group walked 20 yards behind them with flamethrowers drying the water. The car involved in the chase scene was actually three cars. They had a perfect version, one partially damaged, and one that was a wreck. The cameras, actors and crew grabbed my attention for at least an hour.
Interesting people from the tour:
Steve- the tour guide, he was actually a transplanted Kiwi.
Sharlene – nice sweet mom-type traveling alone.
Dave & Sarah – A couple living in Bangkok, but his computer job was uprooting them to Munich soon.
Ellen and Gert – Our new found friends from Holland on a 4-month vacation after college to Australia and Canada.
"Taiwanese Mafia" – the named coined by our tour guide. A group of Japanese girls all majoring in English. They were basically a group of giggling girls with cameras who spoke horrible English.
Jason – Some weird fellow from San Francisco who was traveling alone. Didn't say a whole lot.
Sarah & Lucy – made the tour. Two girls from the London area (Brighton in particular). They were on a 6-week vacation from beauty school. They "tried ' to teach me cockney slang. (ex. Scuba down the ole' kermit to fetch some tucker for me wok smuggler. = Let's go get something to eat.) They'd be proud.
Day 5:
Woke up and went back to Rosa's (the sidewalk café) at this point we were on a first name basis with the wait staff and had my own table. The waitress went over our "To Do' list and made changes and recommendations. We started with the Sydney Aquarium. I saw a Platypus (their much smaller then I thought they'd be, maybe 10 inches long). Next example of Aussie humor. The Salties (crocodiles) was sunken into the ground, you could jump in if you wanted, but the sign said "If the fall doesn't kill you, the Crocs will!!!" Did some walking through Hyde's Park and found ourselves at the Sydney Opera House. So seeing as it was our anniversary, we bought tickets for that evening (chi-ching), but I figured "Well, it is the Sydney Opera House, it will be worth the money." We finished up the daylight hours with some tourist stuff.
Off to the Symphony. Despite how well known the exterior of the Opera House is, the interior is unimpressive, and is mostly pop-culture 1970's architecture, all wood paneling and dull orange hues. The Symphony we attended, required all my energy to keep me awake, and some poking from Alyssa (who also dozed off). I tried desperately to envision storyline for the music, but most of the time it backfired into unconsciousness. After a quick cab ride home, I was left with an excellent memory that many people would find interesting, if only I left out the details.
Day 6:
My last day in Sydney before I jumped on a plane north to tropical Cairns (we'll go there in another blog entry). Breakfast at Rosa's (of course). We visited the Powerhouse Museum, it's an applied Sciences museum, where they change all the exhibits every year, sort of interesting in it's own way. A walk through Paddy's Market, it was a glorified flea market. Then we took a ferry over to Toranga Zoo (yah more animals). Fell in love with Echidnas, coolest animal, incredible personable and charismatic. After leaving the zoo, I thought we 'd do some shopping, but I found out quickly that most of the shopping in downtown is VERY upscale and not really my thing. Also, anything imported from the Western Hemisphere (i.e. USA) is incredibly mocked up in price.
Final thoughts on the city:
Very expensive (like most cities)
No tipping = poor service by American standards
Best zoo ever (it's all about the animals in Australia)
Incredibly clean city
Driving on the opposite side of the road is going to get someone killed
Winter averages in the 60's temperature wise.
Don't buy those Opera tickets.
I'd live there. The city is incredibly diverse, and seemed very stress free for the inhabitants. Everyone was very helpful and rather cheerful. The transportation is unmatched (they even have a monorail). There were always big crowds and a lot of action all day and all night. I loved the hybrid of Asian culture meets traditional British society, it was intriguing. The cities architecture was something you could stare at all day, a mix of Victorian and Elizabethan buildings surrounding huge modern skyscrapers. I loved it.
When I speak to different people back home about traveling the world, I seem to find two sects of personal opinions on the subject: Those that dream of traveling, and if given the opportunity would gladly jump on a plane with me and run away to a far off place, and that other group of people that seem to come up with a hundred excuses why it's simply too much of a hassle to leave their quiet little corner of the world, and seem all too content to live out their lives held up under their rock.
So, this past August, I decided I'd make the longest of my trips...Australia, a most unique and incredible place on the opposite side of the planet.
Day 1+2:
Let's start with the obvious downside to traveling around the world...the flight. I'd really like to encourage you all and say it wasn't that bad...but, it's worse. Traveling from Boston to Sydney took 27 hours of continuous travel (the worst being the 18 hour flight from L.A. to Sydney), and the INSANE time change associated with that. When I arrived in Sydney it was 7:30pm on Sunday, yet my body was damn sure it was 5:30am (Saturday actually just about never existed for me that weekend (because of the drastic time zone change)). I can't sleep on planes...I have no idea why...so I read A LOT, and Quantas is awesome about movies and such, so I just about caught up with every movie I've never seen...EVER.
When we landed in Sydney and went through customs I got my first taste of Australian humor, as security went through my luggage in search of Ranch Dressing (I'm serious, they have major issues with ranch dressing), for whatever reason Americans smuggle ranch dressing into Australia..is simply beyond me (actually it's the chicken eggs in the dressing). The cab driver...like all cab drivers...was from a country foreign to the one he works in, mine was from Italy. Although I'll come to find out that Sydney is really one of the most culturally diverse places on Earth. Off to the hotel to force myself to sleep off the jet lag.
Day 3:
The next morning we ventured out into Downtown (my hotel was smack-dab in the center of the downtown area). For breakfast we found a cute little street side cafe (just like the other thousand or so in the area). I ordered a breakfast sandwich...but in Australia...they put BBQ sauce on their eggs...it was...interesting. (NOTE: food in Australia is expensive, although you NEVER tip, seriously. Also take care about what you order, sometimes the menus with contain items your familiar with, only when it comes to the table…your scratching your head. Meat pies are a favorite over there, but their meat pies…DISGUSTING). After breakfast we visited Sydney's Chinese Gardens in downtown, near the waterfront. It seems that the Australians have been making serious efforts to have stronger relations with their Asian neighbors, and the Chinatown in Sydney is an obvious example of the growing influence of Asian culture in Australia, especially Sydney. Afterwards, we walked the wharfs for a bit. Most of the Sydney area is waterfront. The city itself is actually divided up over the length of the bay, on both shores. A great deal of traveling through the region is done on ferry, hydrocraft, or water taxi. My second encounter with Australian humor was during a ferry ride, when someone pointed of that the tower that controls all the births in the harbor is known as "The Pill". Another example from that day was the Office of Records in Sydney, which handles the country's birth, marriage and death records...or as they call it "The Hatch, Match and Dispatch Office". (SIDE NOTE: the public transportation system is amazing, and CHEAP. For almost pennies you can traverse the area for days. They have a visitors pass called "The Sydney Pass" it's like $30 American, and can keep you moving around the city for days.)
After our "Walkabout' we jumped on and off the buses for a bit, did the basic tourist junk and got an overall feel for the city. Visited Bondi Beach that day, it was also my first glance into the giant tourist industry and how so many people try to sell knock off Aboriginal artifacts. However I did find one authentic Aboriginal owned store in Sydney, but he was very overpriced. I ended up purchasing one of my boomerangs there, as well as some incredible paintings of the "dreamtime" ...worth every penny (I never saw another artist like that for the rest of the trip-that's important).
Day4:
Today we decided to get outside the city a bit and see some of the sites beyond the city limits (The city of Sydney is technically like 50 miles wide). We visited the Featherdale Wildlife Refuge, got my chance to hang out LITERALLY with Kangaroos (very charismatic when you play with them...they seem to love little kids), Koalas (so timid, until you feed them...), Wombats (oblivious)..and just about every other Australian animal you can imagine. It's a cool place, with the exception of the more dangerous animals like Crocs and Cassowaries, you can interact with them, their not caged or anything, they just run free. Although I don't think the Kookaburra birds like people much.
Wentworth Falls was just a photo op, but being in the Blue Mountains brought up a great point. In Australia...the horizon is always a deep shade of blue, not the sky...the landscape. Next time you look into the sky, take note of how the sky slowly fades to white the closer it comes to the horizon line. In Australia...it's the opposite...the horizon turns MORE blue. Why, because of the Eucalyptus leaves. There is so much oil in the leaves, that when it evaporates...it turns the horizon blue. The down side to all this oil in the leaves…is forest fires. In Australia they have an incredible amount of forest fires, however, because it's such a natural occurrence, the plants and animals have built up defenses against the fire. Animals dig deep into the ground and wait out the flames, while trees and plants build up extra layers of bark that they can strip away after the fire is out.
While up in the Blue Mountains, we went on this God awful train ride down the steepest (52 degree) grade railroad IN THE WORLD...that was just crazy. We had tea (I had tea 8,000,000 times on this trip) up on a Cliffside and headed back towards Sydney. The bus's final stop (the tour was only 17 people) was the Olympic park…horrible. If you've even been to the one in Montreal, it's just as depressing and drab. It just seemed so lifeless, even the Aussies I was with, made fun. The biggest joke was the 18 million dollar Baseball stadium (they don't PLAY baseball in Australia, although just to build interest, their fielding a team in the upcoming World Baseball Classic). We jumped on a ferry at the Olympic village back to downtown (central Sydney dock is called "Circular Quay").
Traveling down the bay gave me a chance to see the suburban areas a little more and it seemed life as usual just outside the downtown area. We arrived just after dark and stopped by a pub for dinner in "The Rocks" part of town (the original settlement in Australia…now home to about 100 pubs). On the subject of drinking and pubs, the workday in Australia ends at 5pm, NOONE works late, even the retail stores close. EVERYONE in town, no matter their social class, their job, their ethnicity gets together in the pubs and drinks the night away...EVERYDAY. It's amazing, the whole city, every night, would just turn into a massive pub crawl (oh and only tourists drink Fosters).
That night we made our way, walking back through the city and found myself walking right into a chase scene being filmed for Superman the movie. I guess many of the movie studios now do a great deal of their production in Australia due to tax breaks and incentives. It was rather interesting to see how they had modified the area of town into "Metropolis" architecture and were going as far as washing the street with fire hoses with one crew of workers, while another group walked 20 yards behind them with flamethrowers drying the water. The car involved in the chase scene was actually three cars. They had a perfect version, one partially damaged, and one that was a wreck. The cameras, actors and crew grabbed my attention for at least an hour.
Interesting people from the tour:
Steve- the tour guide, he was actually a transplanted Kiwi.
Sharlene – nice sweet mom-type traveling alone.
Dave & Sarah – A couple living in Bangkok, but his computer job was uprooting them to Munich soon.
Ellen and Gert – Our new found friends from Holland on a 4-month vacation after college to Australia and Canada.
"Taiwanese Mafia" – the named coined by our tour guide. A group of Japanese girls all majoring in English. They were basically a group of giggling girls with cameras who spoke horrible English.
Jason – Some weird fellow from San Francisco who was traveling alone. Didn't say a whole lot.
Sarah & Lucy – made the tour. Two girls from the London area (Brighton in particular). They were on a 6-week vacation from beauty school. They "tried ' to teach me cockney slang. (ex. Scuba down the ole' kermit to fetch some tucker for me wok smuggler. = Let's go get something to eat.) They'd be proud.
Day 5:
Woke up and went back to Rosa's (the sidewalk café) at this point we were on a first name basis with the wait staff and had my own table. The waitress went over our "To Do' list and made changes and recommendations. We started with the Sydney Aquarium. I saw a Platypus (their much smaller then I thought they'd be, maybe 10 inches long). Next example of Aussie humor. The Salties (crocodiles) was sunken into the ground, you could jump in if you wanted, but the sign said "If the fall doesn't kill you, the Crocs will!!!" Did some walking through Hyde's Park and found ourselves at the Sydney Opera House. So seeing as it was our anniversary, we bought tickets for that evening (chi-ching), but I figured "Well, it is the Sydney Opera House, it will be worth the money." We finished up the daylight hours with some tourist stuff.
Off to the Symphony. Despite how well known the exterior of the Opera House is, the interior is unimpressive, and is mostly pop-culture 1970's architecture, all wood paneling and dull orange hues. The Symphony we attended, required all my energy to keep me awake, and some poking from Alyssa (who also dozed off). I tried desperately to envision storyline for the music, but most of the time it backfired into unconsciousness. After a quick cab ride home, I was left with an excellent memory that many people would find interesting, if only I left out the details.
Day 6:
My last day in Sydney before I jumped on a plane north to tropical Cairns (we'll go there in another blog entry). Breakfast at Rosa's (of course). We visited the Powerhouse Museum, it's an applied Sciences museum, where they change all the exhibits every year, sort of interesting in it's own way. A walk through Paddy's Market, it was a glorified flea market. Then we took a ferry over to Toranga Zoo (yah more animals). Fell in love with Echidnas, coolest animal, incredible personable and charismatic. After leaving the zoo, I thought we 'd do some shopping, but I found out quickly that most of the shopping in downtown is VERY upscale and not really my thing. Also, anything imported from the Western Hemisphere (i.e. USA) is incredibly mocked up in price.
Final thoughts on the city:
Very expensive (like most cities)
No tipping = poor service by American standards
Best zoo ever (it's all about the animals in Australia)
Incredibly clean city
Driving on the opposite side of the road is going to get someone killed
Winter averages in the 60's temperature wise.
Don't buy those Opera tickets.
I'd live there. The city is incredibly diverse, and seemed very stress free for the inhabitants. Everyone was very helpful and rather cheerful. The transportation is unmatched (they even have a monorail). There were always big crowds and a lot of action all day and all night. I loved the hybrid of Asian culture meets traditional British society, it was intriguing. The cities architecture was something you could stare at all day, a mix of Victorian and Elizabethan buildings surrounding huge modern skyscrapers. I loved it.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Because I Never Forget A "Dream"
I remember that night I sat there, watching the clouds obscure the full moon and transform the world into a blue haze. It seemed that time had granted me a reprieve from it's constant vigil, so that I could spend forever gathering the thoughts that seemed to flow out of the deepest regions of my soul like tiny fragments of complete truth, mixed with the sweetest ingredients of my dreams.
I remember a small pond, glittering with the dancing light of a billion playful stars jealously trying to compete with the awesome glow of a pale moon as it drew my attention away from it's smaller cousins in the night sky. The ponds shore danced with the activity of tiny fish as they desperately tried to catch the stars across the dark water's surface.
I remember the sign said that the park was closed after dark, but that only helped retain my privacy as I sought out answers to all my problems in the quiet solitude. The park seemed the perfect size to envelope a single man's personal universe, and its cliche terrain only added to its dreamlike persona, as if it's landscape itself formed straight from the pages of a poet's secret journal.
I remember the stream that flowed down from the pond, it's rocky edge gave refuge to a thousand, singing bullfrogs, trying to keep harmony with a million, tiny, chirping crickets in the night air. Their music seemed to weave the most fascinating stories around the landscape of the park, masking the utter silence that I myself inflicted upon my own company.
I remember a park bench right on the tiny beach. During the day, people would sit there playing foolishly with their fishing rods in hopes of catching the ever elusive sun fish beneath the water's surface. Yet I instead preferred the small tree stump nearby, that provided seating for only one, and one was all I needed.
I remember the walk to the park, tracing my footsteps through the same dark streets through the quietest parts of town. Pondering the lives of the people I passed, and wondering if they too possessed such turmoil in their minds as I.
I remember an old swing set in the park, where I could sit alone, running the tips of my sneakers through the loose sand, forming shapes and writing names and words in the dirt. How easy it is, to digress while turning weightless in the air.
I remember a small bridge, placed on the distant edge of the pond, put there by man for no other reason then aesthetic appeal. How calming it was, to remove my socks and shoes and make ripples in the water with my toes, spinning the glittering images of stars into swirls of bright mesmerizing light.
I remember I thought it strange, to be in this most profound of places all alone...
...Or was I?
I remember a small pond, glittering with the dancing light of a billion playful stars jealously trying to compete with the awesome glow of a pale moon as it drew my attention away from it's smaller cousins in the night sky. The ponds shore danced with the activity of tiny fish as they desperately tried to catch the stars across the dark water's surface.
I remember the sign said that the park was closed after dark, but that only helped retain my privacy as I sought out answers to all my problems in the quiet solitude. The park seemed the perfect size to envelope a single man's personal universe, and its cliche terrain only added to its dreamlike persona, as if it's landscape itself formed straight from the pages of a poet's secret journal.
I remember the stream that flowed down from the pond, it's rocky edge gave refuge to a thousand, singing bullfrogs, trying to keep harmony with a million, tiny, chirping crickets in the night air. Their music seemed to weave the most fascinating stories around the landscape of the park, masking the utter silence that I myself inflicted upon my own company.
I remember a park bench right on the tiny beach. During the day, people would sit there playing foolishly with their fishing rods in hopes of catching the ever elusive sun fish beneath the water's surface. Yet I instead preferred the small tree stump nearby, that provided seating for only one, and one was all I needed.
I remember the walk to the park, tracing my footsteps through the same dark streets through the quietest parts of town. Pondering the lives of the people I passed, and wondering if they too possessed such turmoil in their minds as I.
I remember an old swing set in the park, where I could sit alone, running the tips of my sneakers through the loose sand, forming shapes and writing names and words in the dirt. How easy it is, to digress while turning weightless in the air.
I remember a small bridge, placed on the distant edge of the pond, put there by man for no other reason then aesthetic appeal. How calming it was, to remove my socks and shoes and make ripples in the water with my toes, spinning the glittering images of stars into swirls of bright mesmerizing light.
I remember I thought it strange, to be in this most profound of places all alone...
...Or was I?
Sunday, April 29, 2007
My Own Dreaming Tree Just Needed Some Water
When did you give up on you dreams, allowed them to become simply dreams? Fading into inexistence as the sun's rays began to project through the windows of your bedroom. Waking each day to routine and monotony, following the path that so many other robots have walked before you, trudging through life with heavy hearts, ignorant of the truest desires of their souls. Those dreams...just a distant afterthought from another typical morning.
When did you first fail to achieve the goals you set before you? Stopping to catch your breath as the others you once ran with in tandum sped past you in pursuit of their our goals. The first time you found yourself satisfied with the results of your shortcomings, turned your back on the prize, and settled for second place. Not because you wanted to, but because you believed you didn't have another choice.
When did loss first hunt you down and expose you to it's deepest sorrow? Forcing you to your knees while you attempted to rationalize it's appearance in your life and the need for it's existence. Seeping into your heart and educating you about the darkest lesson life is obligated to teach us all. Loss that seems to create a void that no other can ever hope to fill, leaving an emptiness inside you for the rest of your days.
When did you stop caring? Failing to shed tears for someone or something that was well deserving of your sympathy. Leaving another to fend for themselves while you pondered over your own needs with little remorse from your cold heart, using their hardship to help you prevent your own.
When did the world turn it's back on you? The moment you felt loneliness for the very first time, didn't have a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, a voice of assurance in you life. The world grew darker and the days longer as you found out that your world can so drastically shrink around you in a matter of seconds, leaving you to fend on your own.
When did the quiet inside your mind disappear? Life filling with complexities you never fathomed before. No matter how hard you tried to catch up with your life, it always seemed one step ahead, and the peace of mind you so desparetly wanted, was just out of your reach.
When was the first time you felt jealousy? Wishing for the life of another, while all the while slowly sacrificing your own individuality. Doubting your own self worth, so that you could view life through a different perspective. Penalizing yourself because your life did not meet your specifications, and rather then work to change it, you wished life was an easier map to read.
When did the rage of hate first rise up into you? The world turning crimson as your blood boiled inside your soul and unleashed the darkest emotions the soul possesses. Wishing destruction on another, pondering revenge, and when the intial pain receeds, coming to terms with the cataclymic changes that reshaped your own personal universe.
When was the last time you took the time to watch the sunrise over the horizon, and allowed your soul to recharge, remembering that everything else can be overcome, because you truly are invincible as long as you live. For me, that day was today, and those dreams of mine, will never be just dreams.
THE DREAMING TREE
Standing here
The old man said to me,
"Long before these crowded streets
Here stood my dreaming tree."
Below it he would sit
For hours at a time
Now progress takes away
What forever took to find
And now he's falling hard
He feels the falling dark
How he longs to be
Beneath his dreaming tree
Conquered fear to climb
A moment froze in time
When the girl who first he kissed
Promised him she'd be his
Remembered mother's words
There beneath the tree
"No matter what the world
You'll always be my baby."
"Mommy come quick,
The dreaming tree has died."
The air is growing thick
A fear he cannot hide
The dreaming tree has died
Oh, have you no pity?
This thing I do
I do not deny it
All through this smile
As crooked as danger
I do not deny
I know in my mind
I would leave you now
If I had the strength to
I would leave you up
To your own devices
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask much
But won't you speak, please?
From the start
She knew she had it made
Easy up 'til then
For sure she'd make the grade
Adorers came in hordes
To lay down in her wake
Gave it all she had
But treasures slowly fade
Now she's falling hard
Feels the fall of dark
How did this fall apart?
She drinks to fill it up
A smile of sweetest flowers
Wilted so and soured
Black tears stain the cheeks
That once were so admired
She thinks when she was small
There on her father's knee
How he had promised her,
"You'll always be my baby."
"Daddy come quick,
The dreaming tree has died
I can't find my way home
There is no place to hide
The dreaming tree has died."
Oh, if I had the strength to
I would leave you up
To your own devices
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask much
But won't you speak, please?
Take me back, take me back, take me back...
Save me please.
-Dave Matthews
When did you first fail to achieve the goals you set before you? Stopping to catch your breath as the others you once ran with in tandum sped past you in pursuit of their our goals. The first time you found yourself satisfied with the results of your shortcomings, turned your back on the prize, and settled for second place. Not because you wanted to, but because you believed you didn't have another choice.
When did loss first hunt you down and expose you to it's deepest sorrow? Forcing you to your knees while you attempted to rationalize it's appearance in your life and the need for it's existence. Seeping into your heart and educating you about the darkest lesson life is obligated to teach us all. Loss that seems to create a void that no other can ever hope to fill, leaving an emptiness inside you for the rest of your days.
When did you stop caring? Failing to shed tears for someone or something that was well deserving of your sympathy. Leaving another to fend for themselves while you pondered over your own needs with little remorse from your cold heart, using their hardship to help you prevent your own.
When did the world turn it's back on you? The moment you felt loneliness for the very first time, didn't have a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, a voice of assurance in you life. The world grew darker and the days longer as you found out that your world can so drastically shrink around you in a matter of seconds, leaving you to fend on your own.
When did the quiet inside your mind disappear? Life filling with complexities you never fathomed before. No matter how hard you tried to catch up with your life, it always seemed one step ahead, and the peace of mind you so desparetly wanted, was just out of your reach.
When was the first time you felt jealousy? Wishing for the life of another, while all the while slowly sacrificing your own individuality. Doubting your own self worth, so that you could view life through a different perspective. Penalizing yourself because your life did not meet your specifications, and rather then work to change it, you wished life was an easier map to read.
When did the rage of hate first rise up into you? The world turning crimson as your blood boiled inside your soul and unleashed the darkest emotions the soul possesses. Wishing destruction on another, pondering revenge, and when the intial pain receeds, coming to terms with the cataclymic changes that reshaped your own personal universe.
When was the last time you took the time to watch the sunrise over the horizon, and allowed your soul to recharge, remembering that everything else can be overcome, because you truly are invincible as long as you live. For me, that day was today, and those dreams of mine, will never be just dreams.
THE DREAMING TREE
Standing here
The old man said to me,
"Long before these crowded streets
Here stood my dreaming tree."
Below it he would sit
For hours at a time
Now progress takes away
What forever took to find
And now he's falling hard
He feels the falling dark
How he longs to be
Beneath his dreaming tree
Conquered fear to climb
A moment froze in time
When the girl who first he kissed
Promised him she'd be his
Remembered mother's words
There beneath the tree
"No matter what the world
You'll always be my baby."
"Mommy come quick,
The dreaming tree has died."
The air is growing thick
A fear he cannot hide
The dreaming tree has died
Oh, have you no pity?
This thing I do
I do not deny it
All through this smile
As crooked as danger
I do not deny
I know in my mind
I would leave you now
If I had the strength to
I would leave you up
To your own devices
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask much
But won't you speak, please?
From the start
She knew she had it made
Easy up 'til then
For sure she'd make the grade
Adorers came in hordes
To lay down in her wake
Gave it all she had
But treasures slowly fade
Now she's falling hard
Feels the fall of dark
How did this fall apart?
She drinks to fill it up
A smile of sweetest flowers
Wilted so and soured
Black tears stain the cheeks
That once were so admired
She thinks when she was small
There on her father's knee
How he had promised her,
"You'll always be my baby."
"Daddy come quick,
The dreaming tree has died
I can't find my way home
There is no place to hide
The dreaming tree has died."
Oh, if I had the strength to
I would leave you up
To your own devices
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask much
But won't you speak, please?
Take me back, take me back, take me back...
Save me please.
-Dave Matthews
Saturday, April 28, 2007
"Saying everything, without a word spoken"
I can still see those beautiful eyes looking back at me.
They seemed filled with utter sadness and total guilt,
Yet showed me the hope and true love underneath all the pain.
Those eyes always possessed a magical power over my soul,
I could feel myself breaking free from self-imposed restraints,
And the only reprieve that came, was from the cold blowing breeze,
That temporarily set me free, as her bangs obscured her eyes.
Only to lose all self-control again when our eyes locked once more.
The world around us was bitter cold and dark like pitch,
Strangers walked by us, but we heeded their forms little attention,
Traffic passed by and broke the silence of a quiet winter night,
Drowning out the low humming of blinking street lights,
But the only world that mattered to me could be found in her eyes.
Hand in hand, the rest of existence mattered little to us.
A collection of uneasy silence and innocent smiles passed between us,
Talking matters little, when love bonds your souls to each other.
Words can hardly explain emotions that transcend language,
You could never do your true feelings justice with simple speech.
Instead, everything that needed to be said, was explained from within,
And her dark and beautiful eyes, and it broke my heart.
How many times had I stood in this one place on Earth,
And yet this night it seems so unfamiliar, but so comfortable.
A single evening together, that lasted only five brief minutes,
Transcends a thousand other less precious memories of my past.
I will forever remember this one spot, with this single moment in time.
We already share so much of our past, but that night we added so much more.
They seemed filled with utter sadness and total guilt,
Yet showed me the hope and true love underneath all the pain.
Those eyes always possessed a magical power over my soul,
I could feel myself breaking free from self-imposed restraints,
And the only reprieve that came, was from the cold blowing breeze,
That temporarily set me free, as her bangs obscured her eyes.
Only to lose all self-control again when our eyes locked once more.
The world around us was bitter cold and dark like pitch,
Strangers walked by us, but we heeded their forms little attention,
Traffic passed by and broke the silence of a quiet winter night,
Drowning out the low humming of blinking street lights,
But the only world that mattered to me could be found in her eyes.
Hand in hand, the rest of existence mattered little to us.
A collection of uneasy silence and innocent smiles passed between us,
Talking matters little, when love bonds your souls to each other.
Words can hardly explain emotions that transcend language,
You could never do your true feelings justice with simple speech.
Instead, everything that needed to be said, was explained from within,
And her dark and beautiful eyes, and it broke my heart.
How many times had I stood in this one place on Earth,
And yet this night it seems so unfamiliar, but so comfortable.
A single evening together, that lasted only five brief minutes,
Transcends a thousand other less precious memories of my past.
I will forever remember this one spot, with this single moment in time.
We already share so much of our past, but that night we added so much more.
Friday, April 27, 2007
My life's simple truths
Life's simple truths: (my own survey of self, because no one really cares what your favorite color is, or the last time you smoked was)
Spirituality:
I do not believe that life is pointless, I believe in meaning, purpose, that our reason for being is beyond simple existence.
I do not believe in simple coincidence. I believe in destiny, and fate, yet understand that such things will only take you so far. While they may show you the door and grant the opportunity, it is you alone that can make the choice to move forward through the doorway and accept the opportunity that fate have given you. Wasting such chances to follow your souls path can only lead to the life, you were never meant to live.
I believe each person I met in life, had something to teach me. That I am a student in a classroom we call life, that certain truths exist beyond humanities complete understanding, and those truths can never be told, only learned with time and experience. As my life continues to evolve through my experiences, my memories become the answers to tomorrow's tests.
I believe that my life crosses paths with people over and over again, because there is still something left to give or receive in that relationship, and fate will continue to present the opportunity to fulfill that objective that our existence has in store for us.
I have learned that no single religion has it right, but there are pieces of each of those religions that when placed together along side each other, all say the same message. I've learned that organized religion strips the personal connection with one's spirituality and restricts one's ability to figure out the universe for themselves; No one should be told what to believe.
I do believe in a higher being, a power that influences our existence, but I doubt he's an old gray bearded man in a tunic lying on a cloud, besides, based on natural fact, shouldn't a "creator" be female?
I believe in reincarnation, I think that if we are living through existence for a reason, it is to learn something. Don't be so cocky to assume that everything your spirit needs to learn about existence can be squeezed into a single lifetime, and then wasted sitting on a cloud in paradise. With that said, wouldn't it help to explain why we're so unique, that each of us is learning different lessons in different lives, and helping one another to understand those teachings that our experiences help to present to us.
Romance:
I have tasted true love's kiss
I have fallen in love at first sight
I have met my soul mate and she is everything I thought she'd be and more.
I have had my heart shattered and destroyed, and the pain produced, still echoes through my soul, weakening the walls that bind my sanity. I have found that nothing in life is more painful then a broken heart, and it's debilitating powers can consume ones mind for years, if not forever. I learned through experience that nothing but time can stop the pain, but the scars produced never fade with age.
I have learned that people seem to get dumped a lot more in September, then any other month.
I've taken back someone that hurt me badly, only to have her do it again.
I can honestly say the first thing I look at, are her eyes.
I have learned that you can forgive them, but never forget what they did to you.
I know what it feels like, to love someone so much, that you would willingly sacrifice your life, for theirs.
I know how it feels to be in love with someone beyond your reach, and know that they love you too, but that your lives have made it difficult to act on those feelings and emotions. Instead your love, becomes the ingredients that make your dreams and your desires are banished to your soul for safe keeping.
I know how it feels to sacrifice your own love, for the happiness of someone you've never met.
I have found that you can't have everything you want, but that shouldn't stop you from trying to get what you want, and fighting for everything you have.
I have learned that buying her flowers for no reason, on some random day, seems to have a much greater impact then the three dozen roses on Valentine's Day.
I have ran away from my problems and avoided pain, because I was scared of being hurt. I avoided facing my fears, because there were simply too many to take on at once. But I have learned never to do that again.
I have made my share of mistakes, and despite the pain some brought to my life, I do not regret those choices, for they undeniably helped prevent greater pain later, and helped me to realize those things that are not mistakes, nor regrets.
In the end I guess...
I am just the same, as all the rest.
I am not the worst, but I am not the best.
Spirituality:
I do not believe that life is pointless, I believe in meaning, purpose, that our reason for being is beyond simple existence.
I do not believe in simple coincidence. I believe in destiny, and fate, yet understand that such things will only take you so far. While they may show you the door and grant the opportunity, it is you alone that can make the choice to move forward through the doorway and accept the opportunity that fate have given you. Wasting such chances to follow your souls path can only lead to the life, you were never meant to live.
I believe each person I met in life, had something to teach me. That I am a student in a classroom we call life, that certain truths exist beyond humanities complete understanding, and those truths can never be told, only learned with time and experience. As my life continues to evolve through my experiences, my memories become the answers to tomorrow's tests.
I believe that my life crosses paths with people over and over again, because there is still something left to give or receive in that relationship, and fate will continue to present the opportunity to fulfill that objective that our existence has in store for us.
I have learned that no single religion has it right, but there are pieces of each of those religions that when placed together along side each other, all say the same message. I've learned that organized religion strips the personal connection with one's spirituality and restricts one's ability to figure out the universe for themselves; No one should be told what to believe.
I do believe in a higher being, a power that influences our existence, but I doubt he's an old gray bearded man in a tunic lying on a cloud, besides, based on natural fact, shouldn't a "creator" be female?
I believe in reincarnation, I think that if we are living through existence for a reason, it is to learn something. Don't be so cocky to assume that everything your spirit needs to learn about existence can be squeezed into a single lifetime, and then wasted sitting on a cloud in paradise. With that said, wouldn't it help to explain why we're so unique, that each of us is learning different lessons in different lives, and helping one another to understand those teachings that our experiences help to present to us.
Romance:
I have tasted true love's kiss
I have fallen in love at first sight
I have met my soul mate and she is everything I thought she'd be and more.
I have had my heart shattered and destroyed, and the pain produced, still echoes through my soul, weakening the walls that bind my sanity. I have found that nothing in life is more painful then a broken heart, and it's debilitating powers can consume ones mind for years, if not forever. I learned through experience that nothing but time can stop the pain, but the scars produced never fade with age.
I have learned that people seem to get dumped a lot more in September, then any other month.
I've taken back someone that hurt me badly, only to have her do it again.
I can honestly say the first thing I look at, are her eyes.
I have learned that you can forgive them, but never forget what they did to you.
I know what it feels like, to love someone so much, that you would willingly sacrifice your life, for theirs.
I know how it feels to be in love with someone beyond your reach, and know that they love you too, but that your lives have made it difficult to act on those feelings and emotions. Instead your love, becomes the ingredients that make your dreams and your desires are banished to your soul for safe keeping.
I know how it feels to sacrifice your own love, for the happiness of someone you've never met.
I have found that you can't have everything you want, but that shouldn't stop you from trying to get what you want, and fighting for everything you have.
I have learned that buying her flowers for no reason, on some random day, seems to have a much greater impact then the three dozen roses on Valentine's Day.
I have ran away from my problems and avoided pain, because I was scared of being hurt. I avoided facing my fears, because there were simply too many to take on at once. But I have learned never to do that again.
I have made my share of mistakes, and despite the pain some brought to my life, I do not regret those choices, for they undeniably helped prevent greater pain later, and helped me to realize those things that are not mistakes, nor regrets.
In the end I guess...
I am just the same, as all the rest.
I am not the worst, but I am not the best.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
It was like being on Mars
The most quiet place on Earth, Prince Edward Island, a vacation from the world. I was looking for a somewhere to gather my thoughts, reflect on the past that I was avoiding, and build the foundation to a new future, and tranquil PEI was that place. Although the island has all the amenities of modern culture, the environment and the people who dwell there year round seem to take a page from a much simpler past, time really does stand still there. I decided that on this adventure, their would be no package deals, no pre-arranged anything, just two people, a map and a rental car.
DAY 1:
After a short flight to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and the constant screenings and customs oriented questioning brought on by September 11th, we boarded a tiny prop plane that and flew the 3 hours to the remote island north of Nova Scotia, just southwest of Newfoundland. We arrived at the only airport on the island in Charlottetown, the capital "city" (it's really just a big town, smaller then Cranston). I can't say I really enjoy traveling in prop driven aircraft, and the landing. yah.
After we checked in at our "Strange" hotel, (She picked it out because it had a water slide that entered and exited throughout the walls of the hotel) we went out for, of all things Mexican, at this place in "downtown" called Pat and Willy's Cantina (this will be the only restaurant on the island that doesn't feed me shellfish). After driving around the town a bit (on a stomach full of Margaritas) and getting our bearings we called it a night.
DAY 2:
Today was the day to explore the Charlottetown area. We had breakfast at this small caf on Victoria Row, then jumped on this tour that was conducted from the only genuine London double-decker bus in North America, always wanted to ride one of those. Then we visited the Confederation Mall (a upscale mall full of little boutiques). I found this awesome, privately owned bookshop with this stereotypical librarian looking woman working behind the counter. I ended up buying a first edition, first run "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" (The original British version wasn't called Sorcerer's Stone), and that book was my most prized artifact from the entire trip. After the mall, we visited this cult phenomenon of an ice cream shop called "C.O.W.S." and indulge in all manner of horrible things. After our sugar shock we walked over to the Charlottetown Museum. The artwork was ultra contemporary for a town that seemed stuck in a time warp. I suppose many of the artists there are sort of entrenched in postmodernism as they attempt to get beyond the world their finding themselves living in (we'll get there later). The most exciting spectacle in the museum was probably Alyssa and I dancing in front of a Degas painting. After the museum we visited Peake's Wharf (the Plymouth Rock of Canada) where I had my first taste of PEI Potatoes in the form of French Fries, and met this funky Ultra patriotic Scottish guy.
Ok I'll explain now, Prince Edward Island has A LOT of iron oxide in the soil, therefore the entire island is Fire-Engine RED, the ground is justbright REDeverywhere. It's like being on Mars. The iron oxide does crazy things to the vegetation on the island. The perfect example being the potatoes, they come in all different colors, the most popular being purple. The island's potatoes are considered gourmet by world standards and are highly sort after by culinary masters around the world, because there are subtle changes in the flavors of the different colors. It made for a very interesting selection of potato dishes that I'd experience while on the island.
We ate dinner on the wharf that night, watching the sunset from the upper deck of the restaurant. I found my completely indulging in the food in PEI, as I bought myself lobsters for dinner. Also the other PEI staple food became apparent, musselstons and tons of mussels. Everywhere you ate, everything you ordered ALWAYS came with buckets (literally) of mussels, and some restaurants would put mussels on the tables the way "normal" restaurants might put a small basket of bread out. I ended up eating more mussels during my stay in PEI then the entire sum of my previous 24 years on this Earth (I also had to eat her's, she's vegetarian), I haven't eaten them since.
That night driving back to the hotel, She decided we needed to make good on a promise to her family, so we stopped at the Island's only Wal-Mart and purchased 28 BOXES of Kinder Eggs for her family (they have an obsession, and you can't buy them in the United States). That evening was also the night we partook of the bizarre waterslides that criss-crossed through the hotel, inside and outside.
Day 3:
Today we got in the car and drove out to the furthest point west on the entire island, following the "Blue Heron" and "Lady Slipper" trails on the maps. The drive was endless with its agriculture farms and miles of unsettled land, untouched except for the pavement of the road we drove on. The island beyond the confines of Charlottetown was so quiet, and desolate. I drove for hours down roads that gave us a view of nothing more then hay and potato fields as far as the eye could see in every direction.
The farthest point west was a lighthouse that doubled as a restaurant and an inn, so we decided to eat there for lunch. Yes, I had more mussels, but the bread was even better, it was fresh baked on site. We walked the beach for a bit, collecting red sand (yes, even the beaches are bright red), there was no one on the beach except for us, this island can almost be TOO quiet at times.
I then drove to the new hotel, the Roud Boudnell River Resort out the eastern edge of the island. When we arrived, we notice these goofy little "gnome" cottages in the area, and made fun, only to find out we were booked for oneso we upgraded, considerably. The new room was incredible, and had a balcony that overlooked the river. The entire resort was much more upscale then I was expecting and I felt a bit out of place at times. For dinner we visited the resorts "second" nicest restaurant, but there was NOTHING on the menu for her to eat, and the majority of dishes on the menu exceeded $50 a plate. So we ate at the clubhouse for the golf course instead, which was probably more fancy then most upscale restaurants I've been to in the past. Spent the night after dinner between the Jacuzzi and the indoor pool, met two cool women from Pennsylvania and Ohio we spent a hour or so just chilling and talking about the world.
DAY 4:
Today we did some activities around the resort area, slept in late, went back to the clubhouse for breakfast (the cost of playing a single round of golf at the resort was $190 USD). We drove down to a sleepy little fishing village called Montague, for a seal-watching cruise. We thought there would be something to see and visit in the town of Montague as we waited for the boat, but the town is TINY with no attractions beyond an antique shop. So I sat for a while on the docks watching the fishing boats come in and out of the harbor, pondering a billion questions to which there were no answers. The cruise was pleasant and although the seals were shy for the most part, it gave me the chance to travel the waterways for a while, see how they cultivated mussels in offshore nurseries made up of large ropes that hung down into the water, saw huge flocks of sea birds fly over the inlets, and basically witnessed the world go by one fishing boat at a time.
When we returned to the resort we played boules with a family (cross between bowling and bocce), while we waited for our stable time to arrive. That afternoon we went horseback riding, probably the most fun activity we did the entire trip. I had the pleasure of riding a Clydesdale named Buster; she rode a much smaller horse named Scout. It was my first time horseback riding, but it will not be the last. We rode a trail, through an incredible forest full of giant trees and deep cutting rivers, that lead us out to a large stretch of beach. I think the horse was afraid of the water, but seemed compelled to pick up the pace along the sandy beach, whether I wanted him to or not. We were escorted along the trail by a rather interesting guide who grew up on the island and claimed that he would never leave. He gave us a crash course on the lifestyle of the people who lived on the island, explaining how most people tend to not maintain careers, and instead switch jobs with the seasons. In the winter, the ocean around the island actually freezes, and life in PEI grinds to a halt as the winter consumes the entire island. There is little travel, supplies are stockpiled and people tend to ride out the winter in the company of their friends and family. Our trail guide was planning on being a carpenter for the winter, fixing up some houses in the region while he waited out the bitter winter.
After showering out the smell of the horses, we went to dinner at a restaurant called "Windows on the Water" (I wonder what their attraction is), then spent the remainder of the evening at the outdoor pool at the resort watching the stars slowly come out of hiding in the sky.
Day 5:
We are off to Cavendish today, the entertainment capital of the tourism community on the island. We found ourselves stopping at one of the world's Ripley's Believe It or Not museums (I don't remember how many are in the world). They actually had a portion of the Berlin Wall. My single observation from the exhibits was: "Too many people in the world, have too much time, and too many popsicle sticks".
Then we went to this replica town for "Ann of Green Gables" (seemed a lot like Sturbridge Village), I've never read the books, but it was explained to me that the storyline actually took place on PEI. It was a child's paradise, at least if he/she was interested in the books, I myself found the most interesting attraction being the chocolate shop, watching them make all the candy.
After leaving that throwback town, we went to this funky little amusement park full of rides completely reminiscent of Rocky Point. The park even had THE EXACT same rollercoaster as the Cyclone, even CALLED the Cyclone, that ride brought back some crazy memories of my childhood. On the way to the park we passed a Black light Mini Golf, interestingbut very cheesy, I still don't understand how she finished 5 under par - cheater.
That night our dinner plans included a Murder Mystery Dinner, the dinner was really fun and we sat with a couple from Ottawa on their honeymoon, and another couple from England who were currently living in Toronto. The food was good; the murder mystery was that much better (And yes, they served mussels). The entire room contained clues, and the suspects interacted with the crowd, very amusing.
Day 6:
Our last day before heading home, I got to make ALL the plans. We traveled back to Charlottetown and went to this 50's diner called Checkers for breakfast. All the tables in the restaurant were giant Checkers boards with giant pieces, so waiting for our food was actually an enjoyable game of losing horribly to her in Checkers. We caught up on a few interesting stores and shops we missed the first time in town, then sat for a bit in the town green listening to a brass band play. After another trip to "C.O.W.S." we checked into the hotel, grab our beach towels and took off to the beach. We found a small-secluded beach that sat below a waterfall that ran off the cliffs above the red sandy beach. The waterfall was fed from a natural spring underground, so the water was freezing, but it didn't stop us from having water fight. That night for dinner we went to this place "Piazza Joe's", they serve all these different kinds of breads, you choose from a variety of spreads, and you cook your selections over these indoor fire pits around the restaurant, very original.
In the end, I found Prince Edward Island to be the quietest place on Earth, a complete escape from the pressures of reality. I found each minute spent there gave me unlimited opportunity to unwind and ground myself after a long time of self-doubt and personal confusion in my life. For years I was consumed by all these questions about the difficulties of life and the path to my future, and while on the island, I realized that life really isn't as difficult as it seems. I discovered focus and understanding under those stars, along those lonely roads, and on those bright red beaches, and all the cares in the world were forgotten, at least for a while.
3X5
I'm writing you to catch you up on places I've been
You held this letter probably got excited,
but there's nothing else inside it
didn't have a camera by my side this time
hopping I would see the world with both my eyes
maybe I will tell you all about it
when I'm in the mood
to lose my way with words
Today skies are painted colors of a cowboy's cliche'
And strange how clouds that look like mountains
in the sky are next to mountains anyway
Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world with both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it
when I'm in the mood
to lose my way but let me say
You should have seen
that sunrise with your own eyes
it brought me back to life
You'll be with me next time I go outside
just no more 3x5's
Guess you had to be there
Guess you had to be with me
Today I finally overcame
tryin' to fit the world inside a picture frame
Maybe I will tell you all about it
when I'm in the mood
to lose my way but let me say
You should have seen that sunrise
with your own eyes
it brought me back to life
You'll be with me next time I go outside
just no more 3x5's
By John Mayer
DAY 1:
After a short flight to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and the constant screenings and customs oriented questioning brought on by September 11th, we boarded a tiny prop plane that and flew the 3 hours to the remote island north of Nova Scotia, just southwest of Newfoundland. We arrived at the only airport on the island in Charlottetown, the capital "city" (it's really just a big town, smaller then Cranston). I can't say I really enjoy traveling in prop driven aircraft, and the landing. yah.
After we checked in at our "Strange" hotel, (She picked it out because it had a water slide that entered and exited throughout the walls of the hotel) we went out for, of all things Mexican, at this place in "downtown" called Pat and Willy's Cantina (this will be the only restaurant on the island that doesn't feed me shellfish). After driving around the town a bit (on a stomach full of Margaritas) and getting our bearings we called it a night.
DAY 2:
Today was the day to explore the Charlottetown area. We had breakfast at this small caf on Victoria Row, then jumped on this tour that was conducted from the only genuine London double-decker bus in North America, always wanted to ride one of those. Then we visited the Confederation Mall (a upscale mall full of little boutiques). I found this awesome, privately owned bookshop with this stereotypical librarian looking woman working behind the counter. I ended up buying a first edition, first run "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" (The original British version wasn't called Sorcerer's Stone), and that book was my most prized artifact from the entire trip. After the mall, we visited this cult phenomenon of an ice cream shop called "C.O.W.S." and indulge in all manner of horrible things. After our sugar shock we walked over to the Charlottetown Museum. The artwork was ultra contemporary for a town that seemed stuck in a time warp. I suppose many of the artists there are sort of entrenched in postmodernism as they attempt to get beyond the world their finding themselves living in (we'll get there later). The most exciting spectacle in the museum was probably Alyssa and I dancing in front of a Degas painting. After the museum we visited Peake's Wharf (the Plymouth Rock of Canada) where I had my first taste of PEI Potatoes in the form of French Fries, and met this funky Ultra patriotic Scottish guy.
Ok I'll explain now, Prince Edward Island has A LOT of iron oxide in the soil, therefore the entire island is Fire-Engine RED, the ground is justbright REDeverywhere. It's like being on Mars. The iron oxide does crazy things to the vegetation on the island. The perfect example being the potatoes, they come in all different colors, the most popular being purple. The island's potatoes are considered gourmet by world standards and are highly sort after by culinary masters around the world, because there are subtle changes in the flavors of the different colors. It made for a very interesting selection of potato dishes that I'd experience while on the island.
We ate dinner on the wharf that night, watching the sunset from the upper deck of the restaurant. I found my completely indulging in the food in PEI, as I bought myself lobsters for dinner. Also the other PEI staple food became apparent, musselstons and tons of mussels. Everywhere you ate, everything you ordered ALWAYS came with buckets (literally) of mussels, and some restaurants would put mussels on the tables the way "normal" restaurants might put a small basket of bread out. I ended up eating more mussels during my stay in PEI then the entire sum of my previous 24 years on this Earth (I also had to eat her's, she's vegetarian), I haven't eaten them since.
That night driving back to the hotel, She decided we needed to make good on a promise to her family, so we stopped at the Island's only Wal-Mart and purchased 28 BOXES of Kinder Eggs for her family (they have an obsession, and you can't buy them in the United States). That evening was also the night we partook of the bizarre waterslides that criss-crossed through the hotel, inside and outside.
Day 3:
Today we got in the car and drove out to the furthest point west on the entire island, following the "Blue Heron" and "Lady Slipper" trails on the maps. The drive was endless with its agriculture farms and miles of unsettled land, untouched except for the pavement of the road we drove on. The island beyond the confines of Charlottetown was so quiet, and desolate. I drove for hours down roads that gave us a view of nothing more then hay and potato fields as far as the eye could see in every direction.
The farthest point west was a lighthouse that doubled as a restaurant and an inn, so we decided to eat there for lunch. Yes, I had more mussels, but the bread was even better, it was fresh baked on site. We walked the beach for a bit, collecting red sand (yes, even the beaches are bright red), there was no one on the beach except for us, this island can almost be TOO quiet at times.
I then drove to the new hotel, the Roud Boudnell River Resort out the eastern edge of the island. When we arrived, we notice these goofy little "gnome" cottages in the area, and made fun, only to find out we were booked for oneso we upgraded, considerably. The new room was incredible, and had a balcony that overlooked the river. The entire resort was much more upscale then I was expecting and I felt a bit out of place at times. For dinner we visited the resorts "second" nicest restaurant, but there was NOTHING on the menu for her to eat, and the majority of dishes on the menu exceeded $50 a plate. So we ate at the clubhouse for the golf course instead, which was probably more fancy then most upscale restaurants I've been to in the past. Spent the night after dinner between the Jacuzzi and the indoor pool, met two cool women from Pennsylvania and Ohio we spent a hour or so just chilling and talking about the world.
DAY 4:
Today we did some activities around the resort area, slept in late, went back to the clubhouse for breakfast (the cost of playing a single round of golf at the resort was $190 USD). We drove down to a sleepy little fishing village called Montague, for a seal-watching cruise. We thought there would be something to see and visit in the town of Montague as we waited for the boat, but the town is TINY with no attractions beyond an antique shop. So I sat for a while on the docks watching the fishing boats come in and out of the harbor, pondering a billion questions to which there were no answers. The cruise was pleasant and although the seals were shy for the most part, it gave me the chance to travel the waterways for a while, see how they cultivated mussels in offshore nurseries made up of large ropes that hung down into the water, saw huge flocks of sea birds fly over the inlets, and basically witnessed the world go by one fishing boat at a time.
When we returned to the resort we played boules with a family (cross between bowling and bocce), while we waited for our stable time to arrive. That afternoon we went horseback riding, probably the most fun activity we did the entire trip. I had the pleasure of riding a Clydesdale named Buster; she rode a much smaller horse named Scout. It was my first time horseback riding, but it will not be the last. We rode a trail, through an incredible forest full of giant trees and deep cutting rivers, that lead us out to a large stretch of beach. I think the horse was afraid of the water, but seemed compelled to pick up the pace along the sandy beach, whether I wanted him to or not. We were escorted along the trail by a rather interesting guide who grew up on the island and claimed that he would never leave. He gave us a crash course on the lifestyle of the people who lived on the island, explaining how most people tend to not maintain careers, and instead switch jobs with the seasons. In the winter, the ocean around the island actually freezes, and life in PEI grinds to a halt as the winter consumes the entire island. There is little travel, supplies are stockpiled and people tend to ride out the winter in the company of their friends and family. Our trail guide was planning on being a carpenter for the winter, fixing up some houses in the region while he waited out the bitter winter.
After showering out the smell of the horses, we went to dinner at a restaurant called "Windows on the Water" (I wonder what their attraction is), then spent the remainder of the evening at the outdoor pool at the resort watching the stars slowly come out of hiding in the sky.
Day 5:
We are off to Cavendish today, the entertainment capital of the tourism community on the island. We found ourselves stopping at one of the world's Ripley's Believe It or Not museums (I don't remember how many are in the world). They actually had a portion of the Berlin Wall. My single observation from the exhibits was: "Too many people in the world, have too much time, and too many popsicle sticks".
Then we went to this replica town for "Ann of Green Gables" (seemed a lot like Sturbridge Village), I've never read the books, but it was explained to me that the storyline actually took place on PEI. It was a child's paradise, at least if he/she was interested in the books, I myself found the most interesting attraction being the chocolate shop, watching them make all the candy.
After leaving that throwback town, we went to this funky little amusement park full of rides completely reminiscent of Rocky Point. The park even had THE EXACT same rollercoaster as the Cyclone, even CALLED the Cyclone, that ride brought back some crazy memories of my childhood. On the way to the park we passed a Black light Mini Golf, interestingbut very cheesy, I still don't understand how she finished 5 under par - cheater.
That night our dinner plans included a Murder Mystery Dinner, the dinner was really fun and we sat with a couple from Ottawa on their honeymoon, and another couple from England who were currently living in Toronto. The food was good; the murder mystery was that much better (And yes, they served mussels). The entire room contained clues, and the suspects interacted with the crowd, very amusing.
Day 6:
Our last day before heading home, I got to make ALL the plans. We traveled back to Charlottetown and went to this 50's diner called Checkers for breakfast. All the tables in the restaurant were giant Checkers boards with giant pieces, so waiting for our food was actually an enjoyable game of losing horribly to her in Checkers. We caught up on a few interesting stores and shops we missed the first time in town, then sat for a bit in the town green listening to a brass band play. After another trip to "C.O.W.S." we checked into the hotel, grab our beach towels and took off to the beach. We found a small-secluded beach that sat below a waterfall that ran off the cliffs above the red sandy beach. The waterfall was fed from a natural spring underground, so the water was freezing, but it didn't stop us from having water fight. That night for dinner we went to this place "Piazza Joe's", they serve all these different kinds of breads, you choose from a variety of spreads, and you cook your selections over these indoor fire pits around the restaurant, very original.
In the end, I found Prince Edward Island to be the quietest place on Earth, a complete escape from the pressures of reality. I found each minute spent there gave me unlimited opportunity to unwind and ground myself after a long time of self-doubt and personal confusion in my life. For years I was consumed by all these questions about the difficulties of life and the path to my future, and while on the island, I realized that life really isn't as difficult as it seems. I discovered focus and understanding under those stars, along those lonely roads, and on those bright red beaches, and all the cares in the world were forgotten, at least for a while.
3X5
I'm writing you to catch you up on places I've been
You held this letter probably got excited,
but there's nothing else inside it
didn't have a camera by my side this time
hopping I would see the world with both my eyes
maybe I will tell you all about it
when I'm in the mood
to lose my way with words
Today skies are painted colors of a cowboy's cliche'
And strange how clouds that look like mountains
in the sky are next to mountains anyway
Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world with both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it
when I'm in the mood
to lose my way but let me say
You should have seen
that sunrise with your own eyes
it brought me back to life
You'll be with me next time I go outside
just no more 3x5's
Guess you had to be there
Guess you had to be with me
Today I finally overcame
tryin' to fit the world inside a picture frame
Maybe I will tell you all about it
when I'm in the mood
to lose my way but let me say
You should have seen that sunrise
with your own eyes
it brought me back to life
You'll be with me next time I go outside
just no more 3x5's
By John Mayer
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