India - signs

Blow OK Horn. (confirmed with driver that this means it's ok to blow the horn if you want them to get out of the way. an invitation to have horns blown at them, if you will)

Stick no bills.

Incase of faillure of electricity amount cannot be refunded.

The body of Tippu Sultan was found here

Plastic free zone

One of our chimp has learnt to occasionally throw things toward zoo visitors. This happens due to excited reaction, he gets from public.

Please do not shout, mimic, feed or tease. Please watch the animal silently.

Do not bother other visitors. Let them enjoy the way they like.

If you fall, animals could eat you and that might make them sick.

Spitting all around and leaving behind eatables is prohibited.

Giant squirrel

If you feed us, I will get sick and I may die!

Don't shout.

Don't shout.

Do not tease animals. Avoid mimicking at animals.

Big Bull Temple. Digital signage.

Prohibited - Spitting

Do not litter.

Please do not pluck the flowers. They are for viewing pleasure of everyone.

In the Buddhist tradition, circumambulating religious objects like stupas temples etc... clockwise with faith. generates a positive energy bringing about happiness & peace of mind.

Don't touch and damage (key word here is AND)

Counselor & Therapist

past life reggression

Brazil IIa

Brazil II

piscinas naturales

Brazil

At the airport in Rio.

Bun-Bun

Click to play again.

hot and cold

As soon as it hits 60 degrees, the air conditioning comes on. What's wrong with people? Don't they understand that if you turn on the AC when it's 60 degrees out, you're dropping the temperature down into the 50s? And don't they remember that when it was in the 50s they had the heat on?

It makes me miss the cold outside when we were warm inside. Almost.

the fog

hoboken is closing

Hoboken YMCA: closed (until further notice - something fishy - mafia not happy with the payments?)

Frozen Monkey: closed (renovations but nothing is happening - I've lost hope)

Platform Souls: closed (no shock - ridiculous prices)

Barnes and Noble: closing (would not be upset if Frozen Monkey were open)

What's happening? Will we be asked to pack up and leave at some point? Hoboken puts up a closed sign and the trains just march on past, not even stopping?

hot yoga

I HATE hot yoga. Hate it.

Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

To an Ashtanga purist, hot yoga is cheating, a lazy man's (or woman's) way to sweat with less work.

And what about the guy who struts into the studio shirtless and in short shorts only to do power push-ups before class to warm up. I ugh those people.

The teacher who says - I haven't seen you in a while - bad! Ugh her.

Even the ommm was all wrong - it reminded me of cows intentionally trying to not be in synch.

The smelly sauna room with 25 people squeezed in mat-to-mat with hot hot hot air blasting out of the vents right into your lungs (it seems), which are gasping for some air. I had to leave the room in the middle of class to breath some freshly recycled office building air out in the hallway.

I had specifically (re)tried this hot yoga studio for this class, which is a type of yoga NOT practiced as hot yoga, and on the schedule specifically not mentioned as hot although the other classes were. After class I asked the teacher who said it was a hot yoga studio, which makes sense only if the studio was hot and they didn't turn on the air, but makes no sense if they blast hot air into your lungs purposefully.

That studio is dead to me. And if I'd forgotten how strongly I feel about hot yoga, that was a clear reminder forever seared into my lung tissue.

So unnatural. Why do we have to suffer and be pushed past the limits to feel like we're fulfilled? Yoga and meditation help one focus on the moment, on fulfillment not through the exciting moments in life, but in the normal times of life. Not when you are travelling, but when you are home living normal life. Not when you are distracted, but when your life is empty. Not in the noise and chaos, but in the silence.

So why is there music (teacher's choice forced on the class) during class? Ugh it.

night walking

Observations from a walk on a warm night:

- surrender: two boys flying a kite on the pier in the night.

- funny: a woman on her cell phone saying 'St Patrick's Day is dead to me' in a completely serious tone.

- lonely: a sliver of a moon reminded of its (temporary) loss, its missing body, by the faintest of halos.

a series

While I have a difficult relationship with feet (it's hard for me even to write the word), I love things in series.

the hurt locker

By chance, I ended up seeing The Hurt Locker. A packed audience in a highly educated, extremely yuppy neighborhood.

Shortly after it started, I felt nauseous. Not sure if it was the crowd or the subject matter or what, I kept watching, all the while getting more nauseous. At least part of the reason was the erratic camera movements making me motion sick.

In that context, imagine my sense of shock and discomfort at the groans of disappointment when the US soldiers missed killing their target (Iraqis).

And while the tension makes you feel the soldiers' fear and emotional struggles, there are no good Iraqis in the movie. There is no questioning of what the soldiers are doing there in the first place, no comments about the bombs coming with the US invasion. There were not suicide bombers before, and it is hard to understand why any Iraqi could set bombs in his (mostly his) own country and hurt their own people, but the snapshot that is the movie does not ask why, when, who, what. It was like watching the news (US news) and seemed to go nowhere, have no clear point (except that it's hard to be a bomb defuser in Iraq, which seems obvious from the news and from any insight into what war would actually mean).

I never watch war movies. Especially not about my part of the world. And I am reminded of why- even this award-winning movie left me sick to my stomach with the injustice and horrors of war. And seemed to make absolutely no attempt to go deeper than the most superficial surface.

business class buys you small

I am travelling business class on the train (long story involving 3 visits to the ticket window, an upgrade, a downgrade, another downgrade, another upgrade, etc). With my ticket stub I get a free drink. After saying no to a nickel-sized hummus "tray" that cost $3, I ordered my tea and presented my stub (ticket stub, that is).

You should have told me before, came the reply. This gets you a small. And he showed me the small cup (fine). And he then proceeded to take the top off my regular-sized tea cup and pour my tea into the small. So, there you go - he wasted a cup and threw out the extra lukewarm water.

(It feels like I'm complaining and cranky, but I thought it was really pretty funny. The cranky is probably just a result of being tired.)

things to be proud of

On the way to the ocean in LA, we passed not only the largest waste management plant in CA, but also a huge power plant that supplies power to all of LA or something grand. There was some superlative used in reference to the oil refinery that was also apparently worthy of mention.

Isn't this a bit like everyone wins an award night? Even the meanest and ugliest get to be proud.

Luckily some redeeming points about nature- blue butterfly habitat (it was recommended to walk around, but literally around because you were not allowed in the barbed wire fence separating it from the busy airport road to catch a glimpse of the rarely viewed blue butterfly).

And another thing to be proud of - the white sand on Waikiki was shipped- by train and barge- from Manhattan Beach (now Waikiki is dead for me!).

But in the end sunset on the beach can make you forget all of those disappointing highlights. Ocean, sun, sand. Why waste energy bragging about those other (unimpressive) points?

And the red-eye could not have been more worth it.

exceptions to the rule

I don't think many of us grow up thinking that our life is going to be one that is an exception to the rule. We might have thought that we would check off each of the boxes at the appropriate time, and the appropriate time would come as we place one foot in front of the next, without any major gaps or any idling.

One may argue that the majority does not meet the expectations and, therefore, there is no rule. But even if that were true, that there is a direction towards which we mostly face is also true. Nothing against this- it is biologically understandable, the life force, the survival of the species, etc.

My only request would be, if someone could hear me, that they lean in and even in the softest of whispers tell me that things are going to be fine, that I will end up in the place I was hoping to arrive at. That I am merely taking a circuitous route.

But I am not misguided.

hobokenites

That's what we're called, the residents of Hoboken. And here are some new friends (who will hopefully be gone soon- I'm sick of the cold).

I think the one on the other side of the beer drinkers is meant to be a goddess-ish sculpture. Hobokenites come in all different styles.

happy valentine's day

un-expectations

I was near Union Square and saw this huge black man get out of the passenger side of a monster car- those anti-city, anti-earth, anti-anyone-else-on-the-road SUVs- with tinted windows and all. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

And a baby's pacifier accidentally fell out and hit the ground.

How sweet and unexpected.

playlist repeat

"we're always looking out for one another"

The line (coldplay) keeps repeating in my head- an indication of what's on my (subconscious) mind.

no joke

On the PATH.

Hot salsa.

Snow globe rule.

las sobrinas

santa claus

Santa came to Hoboken on a bright red fire truck. I guess even Santa's got mafia connections.

hohoho

Hoboken police department

I hear loud male (goes without saying) burping.

I feel like I'm on the set of a sitcom with a laugh track, but since I'm in it I don't hear the laugh track. I just feel the stilted flow leaving silences where the laugh track can later be inserted. It's an 80's sitcom set.

I am sitting here after some breaking news- check out how successful Hobokenites spend their time abusing people.

The media writer was sitting at a desk in the lobby apparently finishing up writing about this case. She unplugged her laptop from the wall plug then replugged what was originally there before she packed up her backpack and left.

The holiday decorations undo any sense of seriousness or gravity. Least of all is the line on the white board in the room where the reports are taken (and if I'm to believe cop shows, where homeroom is held): Remember to spend more time smiling and less time crying.

On the way home (I write later for those of you keeping track of tense) I walked behind a brass band in Santa hats (the band was walking with instruments in hand, bared to the world). It seemed fitting. Surreal is a word I often associate with Hoboken. The other is stuck-in-a-different-era.