On the Road

Like a Good Wine

2007-12-02T15:47:00.000-08:00

It is snack time two thirds of the way over the Atlantic flying from Venice to Miami. I slept most of the way giving into the “must sleep will take pills” position. I am glad to have finally taken this step. I cannot imagine why I have been so resistant to the idea of taking a couple of sleeping pills on a plane. I admit I do like the food and in some ways feel, if I pay a chunk of change for a plane ride I want my moneys worth, and this includes the food unfortunately it also includes the screaming kid two rows back, the cramped space and the hours of moving shifting jockeying for any position that can provide a bit of comfort . I know this sounds crazy and backward. Looking at the plane ride from this perspective I am surprised I sleep in hotel rooms. I am not referring to roadside motels where for less than $40.00 you shower, shave and passout; as soon as you wake up it is “up and at ‘em” and hit the road. I am talking about real hotels, I am blessed traveling through my life I have had so many great hotel experiences. I love to travel and I love hotels. I guess this is the bottom line, if I take sleeping pills I might miss something, “ to painful to imagine.” Sometimes we need to make compromises it seems the older I get the more compromises I make. I wonder… is this because I am wiser or because I can no longer maintain the pace of days past. For most of my adult life I have been able to function on 4-5 hours sleep my prime motivation for this is I want to be able to do it all, “sleep is a waste of time.” I have changed my mind, at least to some degree. The trip from Thailand through the States and on to Venice in 6 days wiped me out and as a result when I arrived in Venice I missed pieces I would simply rather not have. So I am eating my pizza snack 6 hours into the 9 hour flight, I missed dinner and ice cream and was also able to escape the kid two rows back, who was screaming when I went to sleep and is screaming still now, that I am awake. It is difficult to imagine that this has been going on for 6 hours, why do they not have a kid section on the plane. I remember in church there was a back room that was glass enclosed a place for the kids to cry. The least they could do is drug the kids, hell I took a sleeping pill in fact I took two I am now converted I think that the airlines should say screw the experience and drug us all strap us in drug us up and transport; focus on their core mission transportation. I had a teacher in college who opened up the first class of my many with him with the “ what business are they in” speech. I will never forget it. Chuck would most definitely say the airlines are in the transportation business, to bad this over laps with the people business. But think about it the airlines, could have the 4 hour pill the 6 hour pill so on and so forth. The other thing I find fascinating is how the hell can a person talk for 9 hours. I cannot tell you how many times I have been in proximity of one of these gifted few. I think this is the reason that they do not allow cell phone use on the plane. Can you imagine if people were allowed to use cell phones on the plane, the image of this is frightening and at the same time amusing! Could at least be a fun comedy short for SSL. I will arrive in Miami at 11:30 pm in time to hit the sack at 1am and be up in time for some fun in the sun. I love the traveling lifestyle it is only the stress on the body that has been getting to me lately. I think the pills are the perfect solution, and well worth the night I had in Venice prior to the Miami trip. I would not have traded this night in Venice for anything even a restful trip, a night to remember. Monday I will return to Venice arriving in time for my afternoon Italian class a nap and then back to life as usual alla Venezia.
I am still not losing any of my love relationship with Venice. It is very different in the winter, but the warmth of the city and the warmth of the people has not changed. I feel that this is the best time of year for me anywhere. I do like summer but there is something about the winter that suits me. I like the solitude the weather seems to direct me to introspection and this is where I find inspiration to be creative. Creativity seems to be the ballast for my sails. One would think that this would be reversed creativity being the sail. Not for me. I remember years ago speaking with a close friend who was as usual for me thousands of miles away. Carl asked me if I was playing and writing music, I told him no I was too busy he replied “ Jeff you must never stop, when you are not creating you are insane.” I feel that Carl was being a bit dramatic but he was speaking the truth none the less. I have been absorbed in the creative process, new business ideas, new songs and writing, but most of all my mind swirling around how I can expand my life to include Venice as my home. My vision is to live in Venice and Paris; Thailand, New York and Portland regular destinations, for business and pleasure. And of course there must be the annual surfing expedition. My love affair with my camera continues to grow as does my love for writing both music and prose, I have always loved the creative process in business development and this time is giving me numerous opportunities to expand both broadly and to focus at the same time on opportunities for me, Nia and as an advisor to others.
Miami is such a great place I particularly love South Beach. When I lived here in the early 70’s there was not much at all here. It was a retirement community for Jewish people from New York, lots of purple hair and sansabelts pulled up to breast level funny hats and white shoes, and heroin. I am not sure why the junkies and the retires ended up in the same neighborhood regardless South Beach was very different in those days. Let’s just say it was not even close to the top of the hip parade. I used to spend a lot of time here although I lived in Coral Gables, in those days South Beach felt like a set for a Tarentino movie. But there was always the beach; this is one part of South Beach that has not changed. I love the sun the surf but most of all I love the women. Few places I have visited in the world allow for women to have so much fun being women, a great play to witness and as luck or fate would have it I am so blessed too be in the center of all the experience and action. Last night I was at a party with close to two hundred women the theme was the “Pink Party.” I wore a Black Miamiesque suit, pink shirt, pink tennis shoes, and a huge faux pink diamond earring. Debbie as usual was over the top in her pink orange modified slip dress leaving very little to ones imagination. Few women can get away with such a dress Debbie looked as if she was born to be wild. And wild we were dancing the night away with Debbie and all of her Mama Gina sister goddesses. Earlier in the day I was able to spend time with Jennifer Debbie’s oldest daughter. I always love my time with her. We found an Italian restaurant on Lincoln street with a waiter from Venice so I was able to order us up some Spitz con Aperol. Not a normal drink in Miami but the bartender with the help of the waiter made perfect renditions of the famed Venetian Spitz. I was happy to give Jennifer a little taste of Venice.
Miami always brings up emotional issues for me. The first time I visited here after my initial departure in the mid 70’s was five years ago and was no less than traumatic and easily so given my dramatic and overly sensitive nature. I have visited many times since and each time I visit the pain becomes less so. Miami was the town of my early teens and the launching pad for my journey into adulthood. I left the city and that chapter of my life with many scars physical and emotional framed with painful memories. It took, way to long to grow and heal from the effects of my years in Miami. It feels wonderful to be able to come to south Florida and Miami in particular with the absence of pain. The weather has been perfect, as I sit here in my hotel looking out on to the beach the sun is setting behind me and the light of the day is leaving a golden glow on the otherwise bluescape of hues blended together with the sky the sea and the clouds. The white caps of the choppy ocean and the white sand add dimension and depth on the closing of my last evening in South Beach…… this trip.
Tonight Debbie and I will return to Quattro for a round two dinner, the outdoor dinning the entire scene restaurant and street seaming lit entirely by candles in the Miami heat in the Miami scene, short skirts, tight shirts, high heals girls boys all the same everything goes in South Beach. I think I will have a Cuba Libra the classic Miami drink I will be home soon enough for my spitz and a bottle of Amarone.
A 12:30 pm departure and a couple of SLEEPING PILLS and I’ll be home in time for afternoon class with Rosanna. Each day I gain and lose, the gift is knowing and understanding, the gift is wisdom, as Iggy Pop once said “Like a good Wine”……………

Life In Balance

2007-11-27T08:27:00.000-08:00

He looked at me as if he had known me for a thousand years. Comrades in life, the passage of time through light. There are so many choices, agreements made in another place and time, sometimes these agreements can seeming lock us into a path, committed to those that agree to share our karma or not. As I watch him, my teacher in his process of living. In the early morning with his family bathing with the cold water collected in a barrel from the rains, bucket by bucket showering his family and friends. One at a time taking turns they in community prepare for the day ahead. A day full of hard work at the same time collecting their basic needs and creating what they need from that which is at their finger tips. There is no choice, in this life, his life you use what you can and you use it carefully no waste, no want for that that is not there for you. I stand on the balcony watching the sunrise and listening to the cantor connect with his God our God for there can not be more than one this is nature there either is or there is not, I believe in everything and so for this at least my life is simple. His song fills my heart and I feel on top of the world. I have come back to the place of ego, as I stand watch and listen, I am speaking to America using the newest technology and I am spending as much in one minute as my teacher who looks to me, at me, with such peace and knowing, may make in 6 hours of hard labor. Is there something wrong here or is it all in the order of the universal plan. I stand on the balcony of the grand palace and speak half way around the world my tool is to my teacher magic. As foreign as a mirror to a cave man and yet he smiles and baths in the morning light his children playing in the mud and laughing his wife so full of love I can feel it surround even me. No judgment no pain only life in balance. Beyond our basic needs what is there happiness? I have seen happiness in the darkest of places on the faces of those we or I might judge and question how can this be, this man has no cell phone, how can he be happy. The same man looks at me and questions; look at him 5 in the morning and already he has stress on his face, 500$$ cell phone a balcony high up in the palace, food for a village and champagne for a army, freedom to go and freedom to come from where to where. Where does he go and what does he do there that he does not do here. Eat, sleep, love, dream, laugh cry look into the eyes of his children? I think not. I remember looking into the eyes of my children and I can tell you it was much to long ago and has not been nearly enough in entirety to satisfy my soul. My teacher will never have this pain, in many ways I am envious of him for the most part in that he is not envious of me.
Life in the balance his, mine, both.

And so what now. I have too many choice and yet I have none imprisoned by my own castle walls. To some this can sound so spoiled and self absorbed. Even I feel heavy with my own drama. The innocence of youth lost as with my Italian lessons I am gaining clarity of all that I do not know and all that I do. The knowledge of ignorance is knowledge of the most painful kind. The complicated mind and the simple mind both powerful and both necessary. I have read that the combination of the too is the elegant mind. The path of least resistance no drama no questions the path clearly defined. I long for just one moment of clarity a moment of no option. This could be why I push myself to the point of disaster in so many areas of my life. Drug addiction, skiing, business, love, in all of these experiences I have taken myself to the point that should I not fully surrender and commit I would crash and burn. This is not elegant but only my clumsy attempt at experiencing the freedom of the non- option, without the grace of elegance.

I am now at a crossroad and must make the hardest decisions of my life. I feel
unprepared and naïve. I do not have the luxury of security nor the security of home and family. I have never felt more alone in my life, I suspect that this is because there is so much at stake. My foundation is gone I can no longer rely on being able to rebuild anew.
The confidence of which, fading with my youth.
I look to my teacher the heart of the simple man and I listen to the cantor sing and I ask myself do they even know what a handbag is, I do. Yours, hers, theirs, what difference does it make, now no difference at all. In this I find the beginning of a new peace, the power of the known, is the foundation of creation. Awareness is freedom, freedom is not easy it just is.

From the Eyes of a Child

2007-11-25T07:26:00.000-08:00

Mommy mommy the water is here the water is here. I could hear
Elisabetta through the thick walls of the Venetian stone building, we share with three other families. Our small apartment building is virtually canal side the only separation from Rio Tera d Isola is a small sidewalk, the path to the entrance to our building. The walls so thick that even in the afternoon when I lay down from time to time for a short nap I will sleep through Elisabettas afternoon piano lessons. It is just as well as much as I love to hear young passion and passionate she is, about everything. Everyday a new beginning, a new excuse to thrust her spirit into that which lie before her. A Venetian though and through and, even though she is still not yet 12 you can see that see will always retain the classic Venetian look, strong in stature, deep, passionate eyes, open yet clearly her own no need for the outside world to tell her, who she is. She knows and as generations before her know, she is Venetian. Her Piano is coming along as is my Italian in some ways we could be at the same stage of development, she with the repetition of musical scales and the occasional attempt at Fleur de Lys. Over and over she plays, it is hypnotic, it warms my heart to hear her improve a little each day even if it is ever so slight, it is perceivable. Maybe it is just my romantic and optimistic nature that hears her fingers sail her spirit over the keys. I wish my Italian was improving as Elisabettas piano playing. I fear that I am not improving each day but in fact slipping behind. Now that I know that I cannot speak I have lost my child like innocence and have become shy and reticent to open my mouth to utter even the simplest phrases, I suspect, I hope, this will pass. The innocence of youth can be your ally in times of learning and growth, nothing yet to stand in your way to stop you from making the simple mistakes, freely you can sail to and fro with no boundaries of right and wrong, even if you are waking up the neighbors, as Elisbetta is this morning not with her piano lessons but simply because the high water (Aqua Alta) has come and Elisabetta has been waiting since summer to wear her new high water boots the ones her mother bought for her at a discount, at the end of last years high water season. Like a good mother and homemaker Rosanna, Elisabettas mother is always looking for ways to make her budget stretch just a little bit further. Therefore when she noticed the bright yellow rain/ wading boots with the colors of the rainbow splashed over the yellow canvas, she knew that these were the boots for Elisabetta. Elisabettas birthday is July 2nd and nowhere near high water season. Even though she was thrilled when she opened the large box and saw the truly magical rain boots, she had never seen a pair more beautiful she was a touch disappointed that she needed to wait until the Aqua Alta returned before she could make use of them. Maria, Elisabetta’s best friend since infants, has a pair wading boots that Elisabetta had been coveting from the moment she laid eyes on them, green with spring flowers spread about them but these new yellow boots with the rainbows where like no others in all of Venice. And today the first day of the Aqua Alta was the day Elisabetta had been waiting for from the moment she opened her birthday present July 2nd. She loved these boots so much that I suspect that not even for one moment did she forget that the boots lay waiting for her in a box under her bed. Even on the hot and long summer days swimming in the lagoon or with her father gathering clams and mussels for Sunday dinner. Even when visiting her relatives in the country she spoke of the beautiful yellow boots. Twice each summer Elisabetta spends a week in the country, one with her cousins Roberto and Annabelle each of them her age one a season older and one just a season younger and certainly close enough to her in age to share in her excitement of the most beautiful high water boots in all of Venice. Elisabettas other summer vacation is when she visits her fathers mother who with her husband moved many years ago to the country leaving the city of their lives and the lives of generations before them. All their lives they dreamed of a place in the country with a view of the countryside, a place for a garden and room for a few animals and room for all the family to come and visit and share long summer afternoons with food music and laughter. Nona had been living alone here in her country dream for many years as Bubo had died un-expectantly soon after their dream became real. A stubborn woman Nona decided to keep the country house and carry on with building a new tradition for her family “weekends in the country” and weeklong visits with the grandchildren. The grandchildren take turns visiting Nona as she is getting on in her years and can really only manage one or two at a time and in the case of Elisabetta only one as Eliasbetta has enough energy for a whole village.
The time has come the high water is here. Elisabetta waking before the rest of her family is dressed and ready to go. She wants more than anything to run through the waters that fill Piazza San Marco before the rest of the city has had a chance to break the mirror of the still water. In order to do this she must travel almost the entire city in the opposite direction of her school and her fathers work. From their own neighborhood of Santa Croce through S. Polo, passing the Rialto fish market and the over the Rialto bridge, they walk along Teatro C. Dell’Ovo turning left at Calle Dei Fabri then a straight shot to the Piazza. This experience will take the family a minimum of one hour out of their way and their morning routine. There is no chance for refusal, Elisabetta is on a mission, it is as if Elisabetta has the chance to once again re-live her birthday. So she cries out not with any unhappiness but with joy and excitement. Mama Pappi, hurry we must beat the crowds. Together they rush through the morning ritual of caffé for pappi tea for mama and hot chocolate for Elisabetta and toast for all dressing and bundling up for the cold they leave the apartment. I can hear them running down the stairs. I decide to follow a short distance behind so not to impose and yet so not to miss the moment. Through out the city people are in different relationship with the Aqua Alta some are annoyed and some amused but none so gleefully amused as young Elisabetta, as she skips and jumps through the water in utter defiance of the cold and wet of the waters of the canals as they flood the city streets. She squeals with delight as if she is walking on top of the waters in her bright yellow boots.
We pass a group of teenagers completely unprepared clutching the walls of a SotoPortegio their feet wearing only sneakers delicately navigating a small ledge that eventually disappears, surrendering they dance through the water swearing and laughing at the same time.
Eventually Elisabetta and crew arrive at the finial destination Piazza San Marco. There is not a soul in sight she has the entire Piazza to herself. Piazza San Marco is the lowest point in all of the city and therefore has the highest water. To this point the highest water we have encountered has been not much deeper than your ankle. Piazza San Marco is a different story the water here is mid calf in depth and Elizabetta is in flood boot heaven, she squeals and takes off in a dead run through the center of the Piazza, breaking the mirror of the still water with every step and every jump. The city is beginning to come alive now and the business people and workers all finding their way across the high water. Workers are assembling scaffolding that they place through out the city. Two feet in height these temporary walkways make it possible for the population to move about the city escaping the high water, but not completely. This time of year when the High Water is here never assume you can navigate the city and escape the water. During this season there is a seasonal business, large men for a fee will carry you on their backs across the water. It is not uncommon to see a finely dressed business man with his fine shoes, suit, coat and briefcase in hand being carried on the back of a human carrier.
But today young Elisabetta is well prepared and managed to stay completely dry with her new bright yellow boots with the rainbows painted on the yellow canvas. As I take a seat at the Florian Café one of the oldest and most elegant café’s in Venice, opening on 29 December 1720,on the edge of Piazza San Marco for a Italian breakfast and a front row seat for the Aqua Alta show staring Elizabetta and her supporting cast I feel blessed to have even the smallest glimpse of life through the eyes of a child a Venetian child. After breakfast I will have to go and buy myself a pair of my own magic boots. Maybe mine will be blue with clouds or better yet stars.

Welcome Home Sailor

2007-11-18T10:07:00.000-08:00

This is the finish of my first week back in Venice. I have been studying Italian at a language school for 4 hours a day, I am immersed in the Italian language…… my head hurts. The funny part of this is, that when you are in an emersion program you have to speak the language no matter how badly, and the teacher has to answer you no matter your inability to understand her reply. This makes for some very comical situations in class. I have this vision of the teachers at the bar after school laughing until they are crying. I have been having fun creating opportunity to speak interactive dialogue. Many of the exercises we are asked to do, can be done at a Dick and Jane level. I chose to mix it up a bit so that I can get the most bang for my buck taking any opportunity to respond in such away that the teacher is taken back with my response contrary to ordinary to the point of replying “really? and why is that?” Upon entry to the program I was first tested, both written and verbal. I have no idea how I did on the written but in by verbal I did well enough that the teacher decided to put me in the second level. Although somewhat flattering, it is really similar to learning how to swim in the ocean or a rushing river. I have none of the foundation that the other students have from the 1st level class. I sound better than the rest of the class but they make sense! Oh well I have never been accused of taking the easy way. My Italian is far worse than I ever thought and now that I am aware of how badly I speak I am much more reticent too speak, my pronunciation has suffered and I think I must now be speaking as a three year old. I will be at the school for 20 days over 4 weeks, I feel I could attend for one year and still be crawling along. Oh well I am learning and my discouragement is not in anyway compromising my motivation, I am committed to leaning to speak Italian. I am living in the apartment of a
Young Italian woman in her thirties. The arrangements were made through the school. The apartment is very nice as is my host. She speaks enough English that we are not helpless and yet not enough that we can rely on it. This is all apart of the immersion program. Elisabetta is great and the apartment is great, close to school close to Postali
(my crew club house) what else could I ask for! The school is an excellent program, the teachers all good teachers, they are committed and happy they all love what they do.

In mid week we were offered an option for an extra activity, “dinner at Marina’s.”
This turned out to be the best experience yet, I will never miss one. We met at 5:30 in Campo S. Maria Nova where Marina rallied us together and escorted us to her apartment.
It is common in Venice for hosts to do this as it can be difficult to find an address. I have been to two previous dinner parties this being the third where the guests all rendezvoused at a bar for a drink or two before all walking together to the location of the actual dinner.
Six of us from the school found each other in the Campo very easily as we all look so, not Venetian. Introducing ourselves, we had enough time to chat and have a Spitz before Marina showed up to escort us to the dinner. Marina’s apartment was not an apartment at all but a Palazzo. It was huge! The entry hall was 30 feet by 60 feet with 20 foot ceilings. Murano glass chandelier ornate plaster moldings and marbolino walls. The floors were Venetian marble, and this was just the entry hall. This was my first time inside a Venetian Palazzo. Technically Marina’s home is not a Palazzo as it is does not occupy the entire building it is only one floor and therefore an apartment, regardless it was a Palazzo to me. We prepared the dinner together, first beginning with the pre-dinner finger food then the preparation of the items that needed to be baked. After filling the oven we all gathered in the library for Spitz and snacks. The library another story altogether, mosaic wood floors the same size as the entry hall but one of the narrow 30foot sides coved into a half round curved library bookshelf of birds eye maple…..stunning. The carpenter in me was drooling and the historian in me was jumping as a child waiting to see the latest Disney release. This Apartment as it is properly referred to was first built 400 years ago and then remodeled 100 hundred years ago and then 30 years ago updated with modern bathrooms.
I am not sure when she put the oversize Jacuzzi bathtubs in but I am sure it has been within the past 5 years they look like they were put in yesterday. The kitchen is still as it was first designed the only difference is that in the side rooms that were created to keep the ovens and the storage out of sight are updated with modern appliances. Dinner finally ready to eat we gathered in the entry hall that had magically been transformed into a dining room. We had……. I can’t do this I think it is enough to say the dinner was 4 courses, beginning with champagne and ending with grappa. After the second bottle of champagne one of the other students in attendance asked if we could have some more please, and Marina replied for the first time in the evening in English, “of course dear you can all the champagne you want……. We have rivers of champagne!!” I knew that the evening was to go into second gear and that it did. I left at 1am with Marina 70 years old four courses, eight hours, and God only knows how many bottles of champagne singing and playing the guitar.
It is wonderful to be back in Venice. The weather is cold and the mood of the city has shifted with the weather. The flowers are gone and the sidewalks thin, many of the outside dining tables have been put away. You can still find cafes and restaurants with tables outside but they are few and often empty. Yet still Venice welcomes me back with open arms such as a lover welcomes you home from a journey. My fiends are exactly the same, my friends, their warm welcome makes me feel very much at home. I love this time of year, easy to say, as I love all seasons. In some ways I see Venice through even more romantic eyes than this summer. Everyone is bundled up with coats, scarves, and hats. The restaurants and cafes welcome you to come inside to snuggle up to the bar or huddle at a table in the warmth of the candle lit room. The tourist season has calmed down a great deal as a result the streets are not so alive. Many of the Venetians who make their money from the tourist business have migrated elsewhere to winter, some of the population is in hibernation with others the life goes on unchanged season to season year to year.
This past week has been hell on me. The 36 hour trip from Thailand, arriving back in Portland and straight back to work, I barely had time to repack, then the 13 hour flight to Venice. The travel combination along with a slight fever and my first night with Francisco making the rounds connecting with friends wiped me out. Wednesday after class I returned to my apartment and decided to lay down for 30 min. for a short rest. I had a commitment for a meeting an hour later so I did not undress I even left my shoes and coat. The windows open letting in the cool autumn breeze, lullabying me too sleep. The next thing I knew it was 8 hours later and I had slept through 2 phone calls and missed my appointment. This is not like me at all, this is as exhausted as I remember being within my life. I am rested now.
I need to find away to sleep on airplanes. My plane miles have racked up enough that I am able to fly first class most of the time however I still have a hard time sleeping I have tried melatonin and other over the counter solutions, and I have tried staying up the night before in hopes that I will be so tired that I will sleep on the plane. This is the most ridiculous idea I have ever had but in desperation we can be forced to ridiculous options. I do not intend to stop or even slowdown my traveling any time soon so I need to find a solution. Maybe when I do there will be a how to book in it, a little point of sale thing that sells at the convenience counters through out the airport. Opportunity lay in wait at every corner.
Good ideas are like beautiful women.

Tonight I will have dinner with Serge at Taverna del Remer. Sunday night at the restaurant is very popular. The tables are all pushed together to accommodate the big families. Sunday night is family night in Venice. I will have a wonderful meal with a good friend in one of the warmest restaurants I have ever been in, welcomed by the owner Emilio and the Remer crew who treat me as one of the family most often pushing my money aside. Sitting by the fire being serenaded by Stefano on the piano he may even get me to play a few songs; and yet tonight I am lonely, I miss…………….

Missing nothing sometimes you must miss everything.

Just a Feeling

2007-11-12T00:24:00.000-08:00

It is difficult to communicate; a swelling of emotion, crying inside, tears streaming down my face, sobbing, there are so many different ways to describe the response to emotional expression that can move me too tears of any degree whether they be of sadness or joy. At times just on the edge of tears I can feel as if, I will, at any moment burst into sobbing. At times it is a simple warming in my heart that can be accelerated as I recognize that I am sensitive to any degree and open to seeing on any level, making me smile. The smallest pops from the universe can stop me in my tracks. When I see an angel on the side of the road through the eyes of a child playing in a field looking up at the precise moment that I, turn looking out the window of a speeding car, our eyes meeting for a flash, a glimpse into the heart of God, speaking to me through the eyes of a child. Do you remember, do you believe? I believe in everything, I wonder how one could not. Some people believe in nothing, can you believe that!
30,000 feet above London, it is easy to believe in everything. I can see the lights below. If I knew the city I would be able to make out the neighborhoods and counties. Essex, Knightsbridge, I can see those Essex girls at this moment getting ready for school their moms with their tea and a cig, one dreaming of, and one, putting it on for the Ritz, teasing her hair, or spiking it, it matters not, go-go boots, combat boots it’s all the same, for an Essex girl, they never change “ever met one?” you would know if you did, promise, and you would never forget. 30,000 feet over London damm I love to fly. I am not wild about sitting in the same place in the same position for 4 to 13 hours, 13 hours is the longest I have been on a plane, and still I love flying. It is magic, a magic carpet ride with every seat the best in the house. Isaaco took me to the airport this morning, my Portland visit over, next stop Venice. As usual we stayed up very late I was thinking I would just stay up. Packing took all day, well to be truthful preparations took all day. I did not start the official packing process until 4:pm my flight leaving at 7:30am making for a house departure of 5:am. I finished all I needed to do at around 3:am. Isaaco showed up around midnight, slowing the process down considerably, Ok by me I love the guy within minutes we were singing Vasco and punching each other fighting like brothers. Hanging out with Isaaco is the closest experience to having a brother, a real brother I can imagine. He is so in your face, open and real and really a bit of a brat. I have friends I love very much, call them brother and recognize the deep bond of our friendship. But with Isaaco he acts and therefore I act like we have been fighting for the last cookie for lifetimes. It would have been best to have been Issaco’s little brother because then he would have been the protector perhaps the bully to some degree but his heart is so big I think he would have made the perfect big brother. He would have made me tough and at the same time teach me of deep love, and I know he would have supported me in anything jealousy not an option, in fact he would have been the sort of brother that if I did not pursue my dreams he would beat my ass. But if I failed he would laugh and cry and we would go have Gelato. The other thing I know for sure is there would not be any bullies picking on me in the neighborhood, Isaaco is one of the toughest little fuckers I have ever met. I am going to take him to Thai boxing school with me not a tourist trap of a school the real thing where the only language spoken is Thai and foot to face. I think this might be the only place Isaaco will meet his match. I think it is important for every man to meet his match, at least once in every area in his life, teaches humility, limits and respect. So Isaaco pack your bags, “Visto che andiamo in Thailandia vedo che prendi un calcio nel sedere”. After a few hours of additional packing and playing around with Isaaco, I decided I could not go the long haul so went to bed to lay down for just a few hours, I even left my boots on, my bags packed and loaded in the truck and I dressed in my travel clothes. 501’s, engineer boots, Sharkskin belt, black t-shirt velvet jacket, my head with only three weeks growth, my mala beads given to me by my sister Jennifer. ( Thank you Jenny I look forward to sharing with you the experiences that opened up to me as a result of wearing the beads you lent me to help me heal, thank you, I also look forward to returning them to you, soon.) After 5 or 10 minutes I kicked off my boots and fell fast asleep rare for me but indeed fast asleep. I set the alarm and double checked it. The same alarm I have been using or Debbie has been using for years. I do not use the alarm much I wake naturally sleeping is my problem not waking up, other than this morning. My little two hours shut eye turned into a three and a half hour nap, before I know it I am sitting straight up in bed staring at the clock 6:30. I have 60min. till take off the airport is a 20 minute drive without traffic, I seek out Isaaco he is curled up in the corner of the downstairs office on the floor, I do not even think about this I just start kicking him and yelling Isaaco move, move, move, as if we were on a military alert under attack. I think many people would have just sat down and cried and began calling the airline, not me my bags are locked and loaded, we’re going to the fucking airport. Once along the way, Isaaco spoke out regarding my driving and to think, this from an Italian….. I looked at him and told him if he wanted to go to the airport with me that he would have to keep quiet. I don’t think I put it quite these terms but I got my point across. The traffic was moderate but I was able to average 90 most of the way. We pull up to the curb Isaaco and I jump out, of the truck, Isaaco to unload the bags, Guitar, skies, camera, recording gear, and stuff, 8 bags in all. I go to the skycap give him 100 bucks and tell him “get me on that fucking plane.” The whole sky cap crew jumps in line to help and together they made it happen, and had fun doing so, I made the plane. Standing at my seat arranging my gear I hear the flight attendants speaking Italian, I catch myself in surprise I think I am about to cry, choke up, sob? I don’t think so but I am a touch emotional, I am going to Venice.

I Bought Her A Ticket

2007-11-07T03:50:00.000-08:00

I bought her a ticket.

Chuck was one of my guiding angels, I met him at a time of great insecurity. He was a business teacher at the college I attended as an adult after my separation from Joanne the mother of my children. I had not gone to school I dropped out of high school and always felt an emptiness as a result. After Joanne and I split it was without hesitation that I enrolled in the university. I had to start at the beginning taking entry level math and English to bring myself up to college levels. This was one of the hardest things I ever did in my life. Surrendering my ego sitting in a classroom of people some of whom young enough to be my child. I am not a quick learner I have to work extra hard to keep up with the class. This was not true once I was able to get into the business track at my school. Here I found a home, the subject matter was easy for me to understand and I was able to excel and even at times stay far ahead of my class. Chuck taught entrepreneurship it was a three semester course. In which time we were to develop one business plan, I developed three. Chuck and I became friends, he took me under his wing. We spent many hours out of class discussing his and my favorite subject, business. He inspired me and was one of the great teachers and mentors I have met on my journey. I gained confidence and knowledge that would serve me the rest of my life. Chuck used to like to tell a story, I can not count the times I heard him tell the story of Hymie, I never tired of hearing the story he had so much fun in it’s delivery and I loved him so much it gave me great joy to see him light up in his amusement of the moral of the Story of Hymie. Hymie was a religious man, and as such he would pray to god daily. On his knees day after day Hymie would tell the Lord of his troubles and ask God to help him win the lottery as this would solve all his problems. His mother was sick she needed medical care. His children were accepted into colleges he could not afford. His wife needed a larger house. Day after day Hymie would repeat his process of asking God to intervene in his destiny and help him win the lottery. Until one day God could no longer stand it and he spoke to Hymie, he parted the clouds and reached down taking Hymies head in his hands looking him squarely in the eyes he said, HYMIE YOU HAVE GOT TO BY A TICKET! From the first day I heard this story I have bought a lottery ticket every day there was a lottery available. Whether I am traveling or not I always seek out the lottery game. It is my way of saying to God that I am open to all possibilities and that I believe in the magic of the universe. Today I stopped into the convenience store close to my house to buy my girl a requested ice cream cone. Debbie loves her Ice Cream. As I entered the store the clerk who I have not seen in over three months almost jumped with excitement seeing me walk through the door. She had missed me and wanted to show me pictures of her new baby, she had been on the look out for my return, this made me feel great. Until now there has really been no fanfare upon my return, few of my friends calling me and less taking the time and effort to see me before I leave again, this has left me a bit sad not that big a deal but admittedly I was flattered that this young woman and I had built strong enough relationship that she missed me to such a degree, that her life would not be complete until she had the opportunity to show me the pictures of her pride and joy. Her name is Jill and she is familiar with my routine. I no sooner walk into the store before she begins to pull my three tickets, separate, and quick picks, this is important to me. Whenever I buy a ticket I ask the seller where they are going to go when I when and I buy them a first class ticket to the destination of their choice. I write on the ticket their name and their dream, taking on a partner in karma. Jill has never changed her mind in all the years I have been buying tickets from her, she wants to go to Jamaica. I realize that I will have to buy her 4 tickets so she can take the whole family and when the day comes I will gladly do so. Today was different, today I bought 4 tickets. Three for me and one for her. As Ruth says the Lord loves an optimist. I bought her a ticket I hope she wins. Jill when you win I want a ticket to Burma, no need for first class, could be no need for a round trip.

The Richest Man On Earth

2007-11-06T04:35:00.000-08:00

My first day in the office for close to six weeks. It felt good to walk into the space.
Memories of building the office clear in my mind, a sense of pride fills my spirit remembering my dream my vision. Seeing it real and alive before me, I am solid;
happy spirits fills my heart and makes me smile. I have missed everyone, hugs and welcome homes and pictures taken to send to my far away friends to give then a glimpse into Jeff’s world. I have spent many years here and the fruits of my labor are blooming I can smell new growth not like a flower in the spring but sweet none the less. Fresh life growing on the old making the whole new. Everyone is excited to be apart of the process, embracing the tasks at hand with commitment and keen eyes and enthusiasm. I am lucky to have attracted such a great team. I feel their love and I believe they feel mine. Nia is like a family to me. Debbie and Carlos and the entire staff I have deep feelings for. This extends to the opportunity to support work I believe in. Not just on an intellectual level but in my heart and my spirit, I believe that Nia is not only changing the world but it does so in such a positive and elegant way. It a blessing to be an architect to Debbie and Carlos dream and to support the work that they do.
Beyond that I have the opportunity to extend my heart and my caring to the Nia teachers around the world. They are the best group of people I know. Over the years I have built many relationships and friendships within the Nia family of teachers. I find it tremendously rewarding to witness them all living their dream, and providing support for them doing so.
I have been working for Nia 11 years, fulltime for 10. This has been a significant part of my life, I spent most of my forties here, my children grew up during these years. Nia has grown up as well. From an office in Debbie’s garage with two employees, 250 teachers and Debbie and Carlos teaching classes at Body Moves. Now we own our own space have a full staff of aligned people and thousands of teachers around the world. These have been good years. I have grown and watched others grow, doing my best to support all of them in their process sometimes failing and sometimes not. With growth can come growing pains, I never seem to chose the easy path, whether on my bike, my skies, my life. Nia has been no different, the commitment to growth both personally and professionally and the devotion to the teachers and our commitment to truth has provided for some rocky times. However, I am blessed to have been presented this opportunity to walk through life and all it brings with these people of Nia.
Traveling is for me is an opportunity to go deep into self and ground and reflect. There seems no place I can go where I do not think “ I could live here.” I see the beauty in all
And therefore can adapt and find blessing anywhere I go. This gives me a secure place to
Move through life without the seed of wonder and regret. I live where I live and I do what I do completely of choice. I am free of the bondage of insecurity. This is of the riches I bring home to my loved ones; the knowledge that I am here because this is what I love and where I want to be. There is no doubt.
It feels good to walk into and through my world with a clear mind and an open heart.
I am here for a short while three days of meetings and two to pack and then I am off to Venice until the end of January. Each time I leave and everyday I am away I feel less so.
Learning how the stay connected has been apart of my work as I journey, I am getting better at it all the time. Barry has been a big help supporting me and teaching me how to be a CEO in the modern age of the internet as well has helping me improve in the fine art of communication. Barry and I have some similar dynamics of our past, he has been through much of what I have been experiencing, most particularly the recent years, of radical growth, in business and in relationships. He has not only been a tremendous support for me he has become a close and trusted friend. Thank you Barry. Who would know?
The riches of life are varied but of them I hold relationships with people most dear.
In this way my life, my travels and Nia have made me the richest man on earth.

The Lord Loves An Optimist

2007-11-05T10:34:00.000-08:00

Back In Portland. I am here for 7 days, It is good to be sleeping in my own bed seeing Debbie and Maggie. Isaac and Liz came over to welcome me home. It was great to see good friends. Philip called me the minute I woke up to welcome me. Phillip was really great to me while I was on the road, he sent me regular emails, I love the connection. I went to see Philip/Axel play rugby. It was a beautiful fall day the sun shinning the leaves what is left of them are changing colors the chill in the air feels good. It think it will be a good ski season this year. I will miss half the season but will be back for some good northwest spring skiing. Philips game was at a park that was close to the house where both my children Monica and Colin were born. This brought back many memories from the moments of their conceptions to the life we had and the place of my spirit. We were so in love. Life was tough there was very little work for carpenters so income was very weak. This always had me in a state of frustration and fear. How would I build a life for my family, what I was doing was not going to be enough. I had gotten a late start, spending too many years in adolescent behavior, Drugs, dreams, remorse, and anger.
I was now ready to settle down and be responsible but I had to start at the beginning as we all do there is no easy street for me or most. I was not able to relax with this reality.
I knew I felt I had wasted many years and now I was feeling the pain.
Ruth lived behind us. She was 82 years old. She told me that she was 80 but I always felt that she was 82. We met at the back fence during the spring of 83’. We were doing yard work Ruth was planting bulbs for the season and I cutting the first round of grass.
We hit it off from the start and quickly became friends. Ruth spent a fair amount of time at our kitchen table and I would help her around her house with the occasional odd job.
She had lived in her house her whole life, her parents died before she moved out on her own and she just stayed. When she married her husband moved into the house and this is where they stayed. Raising their family of one boy and one girl. Ruth was alone now her children rarely visited and she had few friends, we became her extended family. She supported us emotionally and was at our side when both the children were born. Ruth was privy to many of the family conversations we would have. During those years these conversations would often revolve around my fears and frustrations. Joanne my wife at the time was always positive and supportive. She was happy with a simple life and never complained or suggested that I was not providing for my family she knew I was a hard worker and she supported me in all my dreams of a better life. Every day I had a new idea of how we could break out of the hand to mouth existence. I would start a construction company, write a hit song, become a salesman (I only needed the right product.) Ruth would sit quietly she was never a big talker she was a simple woman. I was surprised one time when I was over at her house to do some odd job to see her bedroom. She slept in a bed that was so small and old it looked as if it was the bed she had as a child, I believe it was. The only decorations in her house were the needlepoint masterpieces she had created blankets, throws, and napkins. And of course there was her garden. Ruth loved her garden and in particular her flowers, we were very fortunate in that we lived right behind her and could see Ruth’s flowers from our kitchen window. All summer our backyard activities were decorated with the fruits of Ruth’s love of flowers. I loved her very much. After we moved away we slowly lost touch with Ruth. After Joanne and I split up we stopped seeing each other I was so lost in my own pain I neglected my friendship with Ruth, I regret this. I was never called to be informed of Ruth’s death but one day in 1993 I had a pause and Ruth flashed through my spirit, at that moment I felt she had passed I smiled for her and cried for me. Ruth changed my life, not just in our friendship as most friendships do but profoundly. One day as we were sitting having coffee at our kitchen table, Joanne was pregnant with Monica and I was unemployed. I was lost in fear and my conversation was obsessive speaking of my frustration that I could not seem to break out of the circle I was in. Ruth leaned forward putting my hand in hers, she looked me square in the eyes and said “ Jeff you have nothing to worry about please relax everything will always work out for you just be patient” I said “Ruth how can you be so sure” She replied” Jeff if there is anything I have learned I my life it is that the Lord Loves an Optimist, and Jeff if you are anything you an optimist this is apart of your spirit it will never change” I said” Ruth how can you say this after so much time listening to me complain about my fears” “ Jeff I see you and I know you and this I know you will always be ok because the Lord loves an optimist simple and true, this is you.”
I am sorry I never had the opportunity to share with Ruth the impact her truth had on my life for it was many years before I could truly see what she meant. But now 24 years later I get it and you know she was right everything has always worked out for me. Not always as I expected but regardless life is good and I am blessed in more ways that I can imagine or measure. Thank you Ruth for your wisdom and Thank you God for Ruth, yet another angel sent to help guide me on my path to here now.

Happy Ending

2007-10-30T23:33:00.000-07:00

As you set out for Ithaca  hope your road is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, Angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them: you'll never find things like that on your way as long as you keep your thoughts raised high, as long as a rare excitement stirs your spirit and your body. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, wild Poseidon-you won't encounter
them unless you bring them along inside your soul, unless your soul sets them up in front of you. Hope your road is a long one. May there be many summer mornings when,  with what pleasure, what joy,  you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time;  may you stop at Phoenician trading stations  to buy fine things,  mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony, sensual perfume of every kind-  as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities  to learn and go on learning from their scholars. Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.  But don't hurry the journey at all.  Better if it lasts for years,  so you're old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you've gained on the way,  not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.  Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.  Without her you wouldn't have set out.  She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithacas mean.

Constantine P. Cavafy

I lay in completion of the next part of my journey. I think also of the days and weeks the people the experiences and the places that have passed before me all touching me, each leaving their unique pieces of life and riches that have filled my heart and my soul. I have only three hours to sleep before Sutan will take to me to the Phuket airport to catch my 7:30 flight back to the Oriental hotel in Bangkok. I leave Thailand as I arrived but not the same. He who journeys must change or he has not journeyed at all. I began in Thailand in the lap of luxury four days at the Oriental Hotel sitting and thinking and in retrospect in preparation for the journey that laid before me. Then traveling to Phuket where my life was a simple one of solitude. My days spent in meditation, prayer, study, exploration, swimming in the ocean and looking into the mirror of my soul. Kamala a small and simple village was the perfect setting, Rhonda’s bungalow the perfect retreat, Asa the perfect neighbor. I made friends with the locals without speaking even one word, but with smiles, bows, and light. I ate from the food carts that line the streets, at times sitting on the curb in front of the cart and eating my dinner of whole barbequed fish with my hands. Market days were a special treat as the variety of offerings were many and I could graze and feast among the community of the people I was growing to love and appreciate, for their simple and unfettered spirits the light in their eyes and the smiles that touched their hearts and mine. During this time the biggest part of my day was traveling a few miles up the road to the Buddhist monastery to pray and surround myself with the energy that the devotion of the monks creates, supporting me and reminding me of surrender focus and appreciation for the many blessings of life. Destiny was to open for me the unexpected that comes to those who empty and follow what ever path that should appear without expectations or needs. I met Ian at the suggestion of Mark as he and I spoke through the internet. Ian is a long time friend of Mark and Rhonda’s, as I have previously described a most interesting man, his life a book of chapters most of us can only dream of. Ian is connected to the heart of Phuket having lived here for many years, if there is such a thing as a concierge for Phuket it would be Ian. It was after our first meeting that my path through Phuket would change. I had an on the edge of disaster motorcycle accident, putting a new spin on my direction and focus. I was a wounded bird my face legs and arms stripped of flesh leaving me a new process to add to my day tending to my wounds. For that first week after my accident I practically bathed in Hydrogen Peroxide and Iodine. It was in this state that I met Sally and Sue, during a dinner outing with Ian. We quickly became friends they invited me to stay with them in their new home. In fact I was blessed to help them with the move in process. Angels that provided me a sanctuary to heal and to share in life. I like to think that I was in some way an angel to them as well. I moved into the grand house on the hill overlooking Chalong Bay, the view was as good as it gets as was the company. Again I was in the lap of luxury, no more need to eat on the street as Duan was there to cook for me or ride the motorbike as Sutan was there to drive me wherever I wanted to go at any time. They introduced me to their friends providing me with yet more opportunity to take in the riches of life through the beauty of human spirit. We shared a common reverence for God Sue a Buddhist and Sally a spiritual bubble of light. All of my needs provided for and still space for my continued focus on the mirror that called me to look so deeply to emptiness and yet at the same time filling my heart to the point that I wonder if the heart has any limits, I think not. The nearby town just at the base of the hillside of my new home is as Kamala a mixture of Buddhist and Muslims, the mornings filled with the sounds of life that reflect the cultures of Thailand. The Cantor singing at sunrise the roosters crowing but now as I am high above the sounds all rising to a splendor that is impossible to describe. I can only say that if you want to sleep past sunrise in this house you will need block out curtains closed doors sleeping pills or a least some ear plugs. I love it keeping the door to my bedroom open at all times. There is no curtain and the door is not a door but a 20 foot sliding wall that disappears into itself so that you feel as if you are sleeping under the stars. A very dramatic setting to say the least, laying with the outside in and the inside out as the rain pounds the world around you. Sally is in London this morning and Sue is sound asleep. I am deeply sad that I do not have the opportunity to look Sally in the eyes and give her the biggest hug in the world in an attempt to express how magical my last 13 days in Phuket have been as a result of her huge heart, does the heart have limits, I think not. Thank you Sally I am touched deeply and I will both leave a huge piece of my heart here as well as take away possibly more than my heart can hold, does the heart have limits? I think not. I was able to connect with Sue spending these last few days together getting to know one another one to one she calls me Jeffrey and I kiss her on both cheeks. Saying goodbye and thanking her with all my heart creating closure at the same time an opening to a lifelong friendship. As I lay here soaking up all that I can in my few remaining moments, Harley one of two of Sally’s dogs is laying beside me, he is a big dog stretched out he is as long as I am tall, and Shummie the other of the two is sleeping at my feet. The dogs are not allowed to sleep on the bed but I make an exception as the two of them miss Sally so much they will not leave my side and I too find comfort with them by my side. It is now time to get ready Sutan has just given me my 5:am knock on the door. I have just 30 min. before my departure. I rush through my last minute details emails at finial loading the suitcases. Sutan brings me a cup of coffee and then stands just outside on the deck smoking and watching me in my process, I can only imagine what he is thinking. He speaks no English and yet even in the propriety of the servant relationship I feel we have become friends. When we go anywhere together he walks behind me a comfortable 8 feet close enough to not lose me and to be at my hand should I need any assistance. He likes ice cream and so do I. It was just yesterday the staff understood that I was leaving. Duan made such a fuss I think she thought I was to stay forever. We took pictures of each other and we laughed even though we could not speak. Seeking out Sue to help translate they told me that I must return soon even a couple of months away is too long. I promise Duan I will return, hopefully many times.
Closing my bags, I stand in the middle of my room and I say out loud my personal prayer, three times four times as I turn to face each of the four directions. “ Thank you for your Blessings Keep us Healthy, Keep us Wise and guide us to the light so we may better serve.” I can feel the big Buddha on the mountain just behind me smiling down upon me remembering our sacred kiss. Sutan begins to shuttle my bags to the car, I take one last look around then join him outside, but first I gather a fist full of incense a stick for each of those who make this house a home and one for me. Lighting the incense I go to Ganesh where he sits upon the altar that both blesses and guards the entrance to the property, I light the two candles that are ever present, holding the incense in my hands in prayer position close to my heart I repeat three time my prayer, asking for blessing for Sally Sue and the family and the home they have created. My heart is exploding my tears make it difficult for me to speak. I place the incense into the holder and back away leaving the candles lit I join Sutan in the car and we silently drive away. The sun is just beginning to rise the roads are beginning to come alive I see bar girls on scooters on their way home smiling at me as we pass possibly hoping for a last minute fare. Monks are on their morning rounds, I ask Sutan to stop, so that I can give my offering humbly and receive a blessing for my continued journey/life. As we drive the 45min to the airport I try to witness all that I have gained and all that I have shared thus far. I feel I have found my culture in Italy, I look forward to my return to Venice in just one week, I feel I have found my spirit Thailand, the spirit of the universe in palatable here and I have affirmed my devotion to the way of the Buddha, and I have found my home, buried deep in my heart. Remembering the famous lines of Dorothy as she tapped her heels together repeating three times “There’s no Place like Home, There’s no Place like Home, There’s no Place like Home” and like Dorothy I will wake up in hours in my own bed in the home of my heart that I have created and co-created with my partner lover and friend and wife Debbie and my own little Toto…….. Maggie. And with that a “Very Happy Ending.”

Kissing the lips of Buddha

2007-10-28T18:10:00.000-07:00

“Listen kids remember that when you are climbing anything you must climb with your hands. Always have a good grip with at least one hand, in case you slip you will have the one hand to catch you and keep you from falling.” I remember saying this as if it was yesterday. When Monica and Colin were little there was a park near where I was living. When they would visit me on the weekends if the weather was nice we would go to the park, to our favorite tree, climbing the tree we would have a picnic high up in the branches. Each time going a bit higher until we reached a point that tree was so slight it would bend with our weight alone. We would set out our table cloth and sit as we would sway with the tree in the breeze and have our little tea party. This is one of the fondest memories of my entire life. Anyone would think I was crazy climbing a tree with a 6 year old boy and his 7 year old sister to have a picnic but this is, was and who I am. I like to think Monica and Colin hold this memory as dear as I do.
I flashed on this when Mike, my newest friend and I prepared to begin our early morning climb up the primitive scaffolding that surrounds the 150 foot high Buddha that is being built on the highest point of southern Phuket. The Giant Buddha is two years into the construction process. The concrete structure is almost finished and the work to apply the white marble skin has begun. http://www.phuket.com/magazine/big-buddha.htm.
The Giant Buddha is completely covered with the bamboo scaffolding. This is basically bamboo sticks held together with baling wire. The first time I visited the site was on a trip with my good friend Sally. This place is very special to Sally her reverence for the power of the entirety of the space, the intention and the spiritual nature of the building site was beautiful to share with her as I witnessed how it deeply moved her. Sally tells me this is one of her favorite spots in the world, now it is also one of mine. Thank you Sally for sharing with me your intimate connection to spirit. It was healing for me in more ways than I will ever be able to explain but the light will forever shine on my path. Mike my climbing partner and I have only met recently. Mike is in his mid thirties, he is a strong yet gentle man. He is a professional builder and has managed construction sites in some of the most exotic places in the world. He was raised in New Zealand and comes from a construction family. He was telling me a story of his youth this morning over coffee after our decent and intimate embrace of the Giant Buddha, of growing up in New Zealand. His father a construction man himself made sure that there was ample space on the land of their home for a collection of construction equipment. This was supposedly a practical situation but Mike as he looks back on it realizes that his dad did this purposefully so that Mike, his brother and their friends could have a dream playground. Most boys play with trucks as they are growing up but as we all know these trucks are metal and plastic scale models of the real thing but not Mike, he and his friends had the real deal. Mike recounted to me the drag races they would have with any thing that would move, tractors, dozers, graders, and the like. Mike is as I said a big man with a bigger heart. He is handsome with boyishness looks a sort of young Indiana Jones. He speaks fluent Thai and has a very beautiful Thai partner appropriately named Awe. Mike and I met when John a developer who I have become friendly with took me to the site that Mike is currently managing. A collection of some of the most beautiful homes I have ever seen. I asked Mike if he would come to visit the site that Sally is developing and give me some advice regarding some issues I questioned. He, Awe, John, and Johns partner Dwa spent the afternoon with me touring the Sally site both of them providing many good ideas on some of the issues I was confused about. Building in Thailand is very different than in America. After our tour we had a wonderful evening sharing dinner a fantastic bottle of wine John had brought all the way from the UK. We had some good laughs and a healthy amount of conjecture, speaking of culture, the economy, religion and politics, my favorite subjects and my favorite way to spend an evening; good people, smart people and good food and great conversation. Thank John for the sharing your special stash of wine and for getting us all together. It was at this time I mentioned that I had been to the Giant Buddha telling them that before I left the island I would climb the scaffold and give the big guy a kiss. Mike jumped right in and said that sounded good to him so we agreed that the next morning at first light we would share the experience. Typical construction guy that he is Mike was right on time, I was not. I had set my alarm wrong and so we were an hour off. But regardless of my tardiness Mike waited for me, we joined up and off we went. We arrived at the site an hour after planned but still very early in the morning the sun still bathing us in its golden morning glow. It has been raining here at monsoon levels but this morning the gods blessed our intent with a stunning display of color light and no rain. Upon our arrival we survived the site looking for the best way to make out accent. We did not want to attract attention and we were also looking for the safest path to the top. Within no time at all and no hesitation our path revealed, pausing for just a moment, I told Mike “I understand that you have climbed many sets of scaffolding in your life but I must remind you due to the climb before us “Please remember to always climb with your hands” flashing on the tree climbs with Monica and Colin so many years ago. He thanked me and off we went. We climbed up the bamboo it was surprisingly strong. At one point Mike said “I will go right, you go left” I told him “if you fall yell as loud as you can!” We met at the backside about two thirds of the way up. The view was incredible we just sat and soaked it all in we able to see a large portion of southern Phuket from this vantage point and the sun was still providing us with the beautiful light, I felt 10 years old and at the same time as old as the universe itself. The construction of this big Buddha is a huge feat. Not only is it an engineering marvel but the communal support is inspiring. The whole project is being funded with donations from all over the world the estimated cost is over 40,000,000 Baht. We could not build any building of this magnitude in America for even a fraction of the cost. We soon we realized that we were too high. You cannot go higher than the eyes of Buddha, it is disrespectful. We stepped down twenty feet or so and were then at the nose. The placement of the marble has begun to take place here at his face. Mike and I took turns giving respect and then kissing the lips of the Buddha. As soon as we did we smiled and connected in a way that we will both remember for all of our lives. We began to climb down as we did we the crew was on their way up. All smiles, shoeless they welcomed us and we talked of the building process and the honor of contributing to the building of such a landmark one that will be visible from most points of southern Phuket as well as a spiritual symbol inspiring all. After Mike and I finished the climb we went into the temple at the base of the Buddha. We both knelt and prayed let our donations and turned to leave. We were approached by one of the Monks who lives and works at the site he invited us to stay as the head Monk was soon to return. In minutes a truck with a covered bed arrived and a team of orange robed Monks began to step out of the truck bed. They were returning from their morning walk through the community gathering donations of food flowers and money. We were invited to have a moment with the head Monk who spoke with us reminding us to be good people. He made us simple bracelets he tied them around our wrists and with a bunch of small broom like switches dipping the broom in a pot of Lustral Water, http://www.thailandlife.com/lustralwater.htm, he sprinkled the water on our shoulders and heads blessing us with health wisdom good luck and many children.
We bowed, stood and walking backwards exited the altar area.
We were again approached by a monk in attendance and invited to have breakfast with them. We were delighted to do so, a table set up as a buffet was filled with various options all gathered during the morning walk through the community. We took what we wanted and sat to eat. We spoke of many things and as we were finished and ready to leave the monks gave us even more food. I brought the over flow back to Sally’s house and shared with Sunan, Duan, and Bamalee.
A day to remember to be sure, sharing a bonding experience with a new friend, having breakfast with the Monks and of course Kissing the lips of Buddha.

Top of The Pops

2007-10-25T18:55:00.000-07:00

I had the privilege to tour a number of homes in different stages of development here on Phuket my new friend and his fiend Mike are partners in a project that will break ground in April. John is the visionary and finance manager and Mike is professional project manager. The project we toured is Mikes current project. There will be I believe 18 houses in the development when finished. I cannot do justice to the project in words, these houses are of the most beautiful I have ever had the chance to tour. Most of them are build around a small beautiful and very dramatic bay. Complete with huge boulders on the shore causing the waves to crash into them creating a dramatic view the effect is magical. One of the houses had a stream that ran through it one was built around huge granite boulder. The boulder is natural part of the hill side and therefore water will seep through the cracks and fissures of the stone making it necessary for the builders to build a sort of gutter alone the bottom of the stone where it meets the floor of the house. During the rainy season this catch al gutter will fill with water creating sort of river running along a walk way and a set of stairs, very dramatic. I loved this feature being a Taurus it suits all my sensibilities. All of the houses were of different architecture giving the small neighborhood a certain character and a unique flavor. The building despite there size all seemed to blend into the environment none of them looking on to the other creating privacy. There was no house where one would feel uncomfortable walking around naked as long as you are comfortable being naked in front of your live in staff. Each of the homes had large and equally beautiful staff quarters, I would be perfectly happy to live in any of them, to have a staff job in any of these homes would be the cream of staffing jobs providing that those served are of a gentle and compassionate nature. As most homes in Thailand large and small, all of the home made use of extensive outdoor spaces. One of the homes even had a space where they created a lawn 50’X25’. I was very impressed by this feature ( I have always wanted a lawn in my living room!) No luxury was spared in any of the homes the prices ranging from 4 to 25 million. If you have ever wondered where the other half or should I say .05% live at least a few of them are here. I became so spoiled in the few minutes of my tour that when my host mentioned that the 4,000,000 dollar house was for sale I remember thinking oh that one would never do! I want the one with the river running through it! 25,000,000.
There is a lot of money everywhere but here on Phuket 4 million buys you 4 times what it could most anywhere n the planet. I have permission to return with my camera to take pictures for inspiration and more than that, once I return home I can prove this was not a dream. I love houses, and architecture of all sorts, and I most appreciate how these homes blend and use the environment. All of the houses are works of art my guess is we will see at least one of them in a magazine at some point.
I am at the finial countdown to my departure. I cannot believe that the time has flown so fast. I must return here my hope is that I will so often. Thailand is much more accessible than I have perceived in the past. Other than the long plane ride the price of the ticket was less than flying to Europe, and now I have some new friends here that I will miss very much, particularly Sally and Sue. The other night we went to a Friday night cocktail party that is tradition in the hood. I was introduced to man in his 70’s we had a delightful time chatting away about this that and the other, and at one point he mixed into his conversation a line from a song from a Portland Musician. The mans name is Harvey Freeman the song he quoted was from a tune recorded by a Portland musician Curtis Salgato, “Give me more Loving less Attitude” I said “Curtis Salgato” 1991. Harvey could not believe I knew this song he laughed and said how do you know this I told him I was from Portland. Turns out he and I know many of the same people, Dan remember Harvey how about you Val and John. Harvey owned one of the biggest clubs in Portland during the music height of the Portland music scene even I played on his stage “ The Starry Night.” We had a wonderful time talking about the old days. I will admit that is annoys the fuck out of me that I am old enough to be talking about the old days! Oh well time has a way of catching up with you. I am happy to be around to have the conversation and be in a place half way around the world running into a guy that was instrumental in the careers of some of my closest friends. The strangest things happen in the strangest places to the strangest people. I guess that would include me. The Stranger in a strange land.
Leon Russell 1970………?
Gotta love it or die.

The Key

2007-10-24T21:50:00.000-07:00

It is raining harder today than ever before. Maybe we should turn back it’s not the best day to be exploring the jungle. Don’t forget the old man warned us this is snake country, we need to be on the look out for cobras. “Don’t worry we will be fine.” You’re crazy we can’t see, the path is turning into a river and there are snakes everywhere, they give no warning, they will strike as soon as we come upon them. Careful watch your step the clay ground is like a slide be careful not to lose your footing.
Or we could end up sliding on our butts all the way to the river. Charlie runs and drops to slide on the clay river. “Stop playing games, this is no time to be playing games.” He soon disappears intro the fog of the rain.
Charlie….Charlie? Charlie where are you. This is not funny I can hardly see my hand in front of my face, get over here, you are scaring me. Charlie, where the hell are you. I need to get my a fix on my position. Am I up am I down, regardless I must move on. I begin to move in what I think is forward, forward to where. This exploration has turned into a mission a mission to find something familiar to survive. I am not thinking of home easy enough I never really had one in the first place. Be here now, stay focused, I am forgetting, Charlie and even the rain I have even forgotten the threat of the snakes. Let them come I am no longer afraid, I am focused. My footsteps deliberate, cautious but still creating a path to where I do not know. I feel am being watched, must be my imagination there is no one up here other than Charlie and I, but where is Charlie? “Charlie where the hell are you?” There is something following me I am certain now, cannot show fear. I was told that if you walk tall and strong then even the devil will let you pass. I dig deep and gather all the strength I have left. The rain is coming down harder and harder by the minute. The path we started out on is no more. I am now alone walking in a river of clay. Slipping I begin to slide backwards. Faster and faster I fall reaching for anything that will slow my slide I catch the root of a tree it tears at my hand the blood mixing with the river of clay I feel no pain only relief. I pull myself up to the tree trunk. It is covered with roots clinging to its bark feeding on the body they serve. I wrap my body around the tree and for a moment I feel safe, wet hungry alone but safe. Suddenly I see just out or the corner of my eye something move I cannot describe it is unidentifiable. Crouched and dark looking directly at me I see no eyes only spirit, spirit I am compelled to follow as the creature moves up the hill away from the flash flooding path that has now become a river red with the clay and the blood of the earth. As I follow my new guide completely in surrender we move further up the hill the water rushing down to the valley below.
Time seems to stand still I continue to climb, this is the logical path away from the growing river of mud and debris fallen from the trees blowing branches breaking, falling to the ground swept to the valley below by the mountain water fall. As I reach the crest of the hill I come to a clearing, the creature is standing close by in the darkness he waits for me to arrive. I enter the clearing it is a natural oasis surrounded my rocks. There is evidence of many who have come before a fire pit, it appears as if it has some significance I wonder if it is a place of ceremony.
Looking closer I see a key laying on a rock. I look’s as if it was put there intentionally and had not been there long but at the same time it appears as if it is part of the rock embedded the stone growing around it creating an indentation in the solid granite.
I reach for the key, as I do the creature moves forward it is joined my others first one then two, it turns into a crowd circling me. I am not afraid I feel I have been traveling to this place my whole life to be here now this place this time. They begin to sound almost a screeching sound, bone chilling I step back. This creates even more excitement I move forward they begin to chant I unison, I once again reach for the key this time I touch it. It is embedded in the stone I cannot move it. The creature moves closer and as he chants he encourages me to join in. I do so and the mountain is filled with the sound of our voices 100 times more volume than we alone could produce. The Key begins to move dislodging itself from the stone I take it into my hand. The moment the key is in my grip I am blinded by light every cell of my being is filled with light. I cannot see I cannot feel. Only the light energy filling my body and the world around me is sensation I feel one with the universe. The key disappears my heart opens flesh exposed to the sky the earth I feel open to any of those who may enter. As if in a moment in time, frozen the key moves through my body becoming one with my spirit. I rise my feet leaving the ground every so slightly chest high head to the sky. The creatures darkness closes in upon itself like a black hole not that I have ever seen a black hole but the effect can be described no other way he disappeared into himself. Reappearing as Charlie, laughing as a school child, almost as if he was laughing at me. “ A bit dramatic are we?” Charlie what the fuck are you talking about I just met the devil and you where the hell were you. “ I was here all the time always have been I am your middle soul that connects all the others the missing link to your puzzle of self.” “ You did it you found the key I am no longer here I am you are me and for ever we will be.” Now let’s get going times a wasting we have work to do. “ Charlie what the hell are you talking about?” “Simple you have unlocked self the key to your heart the missing link you cannot be the best you can be and ever find your highest good without the key” Now let’s get to work, there is much to do. I have been waiting for you for too long almost gave up on you did I. But how could I you and I being one in the same. Welcome back, now can we get to work?

The Clouds Meet the Sea

2007-10-20T20:35:00.000-07:00

The clouds meet the sea, overcast unable to tell where one ends the other begins, the color, a soft blue, a color that could match your eyes should they be blue, as they are. I remember them as clearly as I do my own. The sounds of the valley full of life, crickets frogs, dogs barking. It is sunset, hidden under the blanket of a sea of blue, and yet the cantor sings. It is coming to the end of my time in Phuket. For this trip anyway, I have come to love this island and I suspect that Thailand holds many opportunities for me in the future for exploration. The people the countryside the culture and my soul. I look forward to spending this time learning the ways of this beautiful land and culture. There are many things I will miss until my return, but most of all I think I will miss the cantor. Sunrise and sunset he sings, a sound track for the day, setting the tone clearing the space. You would love it too, I am sure. The effect is both calming and inspiring at the same time. This one piece of Thailand will forever be apart of my spirit living embedded in my memories, until my return. This Island is changing so fast I fear for the demise of all that makes this land and it’s people unique and so beautiful. Change is inevitable it is happening throughout the planet. It cannot be stopped it is up to us to determine the direction and the future of our combined destiny. If we do not take control and co-create I fear the outcome. Co-creation is the only answer. Co-creation can be our biggest challenge, from the micro cosmic to the macro, there and so many dynamics that can create challenges in the co-creation process.
The culture here is very deep and the process of change will take a long course before the common people will adapt to even the most simple things such as cooking in doors. My friends Sally and Sue who are in the process of building nine very large luxury villas, told me a story of when the workers arrived and they had not yet provided lodging on the property for them, Sally and Sue rented hotel rooms for the workers. One would think that they would love to be put up in a hotel, on the contrary, they hated it. They could not have a Thai kitchen and they were used to bathing outdoors. Today they live on site in the basement of one of the uncompleted houses. They have converted it into a series of apartments housing in a communal setting maybe 30 people complete with their families wives and children. They cook out doors, they bath out doors and they sleep on the floor, and they are very happy. This is their way, their culture and it runs as deep as it is old.
Sally and Sue have a team of people who look after the house. The other night I was invited for dinner and I was involved with writing on my computer and so when I was called to dinner I stalled a bit as I was in the middle of a thought and wanted to finish to make sure I captured my thoughts. Sue came to me and said Jeff you must come to dinner now because the staff will not eat until we do. I said but Sue they have their own apartment tell them to go ahead and eat. She told me no they cannot it is not their culture. They cannot eat before the boss does. Culture runs deep.
This culture have been in development for thousands of years, it bonds the people and it gives them security, and piece of mind. I have always felt that this is one of the pieces missing in American society. It makes since as we are still a young country and we have been populated by a mix of cultures from around the world, this continues today. We have culture in America but it is usually isolated in communities of immigrants brig the culture of their homelands with them. We have yet developed a true American culture. It takes time and solidarity to do this. I wonder if it will ever happen. The general population of our country is split even in our youthful cultural development. It is split into the southern culture, the Midwest , the east coast north and south, central and the, west coast again north and south. This lack of unifying culture is a challenge to any hope of having alignment of ideals and perceptions of who we are as a people.
I hope that as we grow as a country that we can learn to develop a common culture. One that helps us understand each other better and will help us be better understood in the world and by our own leaders.

Partying with God

2007-10-19T00:43:00.000-07:00

His body convulsing, contorting, he shook as if the spirit of the universe was moving through him. Periodically he would yell out in a tone that was at the same time frightening and then moving. The depth of his soul driving voice moved to the point of gurgitation. His eyes were closed unless opening as he looked to the sky but unable as his eyes rolled back into his head. Then not un expectant as the force of his moving spirit, so forceful, I had been wondering if he would purge from his toes and release all the poison of his being; he vomited the bile spewing from his body releasing what I can only imagine. This is his preparation to stand before God in total surrender giving himself up in totality and trust to such a degree that he could thrust a shoot of bamboo through his body without feeling any pain and as if miraculous without bleeding. I have just witnessed my first Medium, known as mar song, in his process of opening his spirit in hopes to be possessed by one of the Nine Emperor Gods. The mediums dress in costumes befitting the god that has possesses them. It is believed that the god will protect them from serious harm while they perform the various rites and acts of self mortification.
I had been told of the power of these believers in the spirit of God and had been looking forward to seeing the demonstrations first hand. This is the Phuket Vegetarian Festival, celebrated by the Chinese community in Phuket for over 170 years. It is Phuket's most important festival held over nine days during the ninth lunar month of the Chinese calendar (usually in late September or early October).
One of the foundational beliefs of the festival is that by eating vegetarian food and observing certain commitments believers will purify their body and soul, as well as bringing good fortune upon themselves and the community.
The legend of the Festival begins with a theater-troupe from China visiting Phuket at the same time an epidemic of Malaria broke out. The members of the theater-troupe, hopeless and distressed they remembered the traditional and ancient religious crafts of their ancestors. But they had no priest to memorize and conduct the rituals. So they sent messengers back home to China to refresh and reconnect with the old spiritual arts.  Eventually these messengers returned to Phuket, enlightened with the knowledge of how to invoke the spirits, and ceremony began. Shortly after, the deadly disease lost its strangulating grip on the people of Phuket and disappeared.  Since then, the ceremony has been held annually by the Chinese population on Phuket. The event gaining greater popularity each year. And now it is not just a"Chinese thing" any more, although the Chinese community still is the driving force of the festival. The believers, in order to invoke spirits, perform the self mutilations as well as many different forms of passionate worship and surrender they call the "Worship of Gods".
As I witness the spectacle I could not help but think of the western demonstrations of faith that I am familiar with such as spiritual healing and the laying of hands. I have been to and participated in some very passionate and inspiring demonstrations of both. I once was the center of a healing as I took to the altar of the church kneeling before God and community asking for the Lord Jesus Christ for forgiveness and proclaiming my belief in him as the true savior. The minister laying his hands upon my head as I repeated a simple yet powerful chant my desire being to be touch by the Holy Spirit. The community joining in one by one until the entire congregation in attendance surrounded me laying hands first upon me and then upon each other creating a sort of circle of light energy all of which was focused on me. All around me people were speaking in tongues, some moved by the power of the Holy Spirit yelling out and falling back into the supportive arms of those around them, sometimes in a trance their bodies shaking as their eyes would roll back in their heads, others passing out all together. Halleluiah halleluiah repeated over and over within the crowd as they channeled their passion and faith into my energy body helping me on my path to salvation. As I kneeled in the center of this passionate focus I remember feeling the power of all this energy moving through me as if I was a conduit for the entire congregations spiritual connection with God. My body shook I cried as I chanted myself into a trance in complete surrender to the moment I felt one with all in attendance and in the hands of God. This went on for quite some time. But at some point I stood and thanked all of the supporting cast for their efforts in helping me receive the Holy Spirit which would be evidenced by my ascension into the club of tongues. Regardless of their passionate support I was either not ready, was too rational , or simply did not have the faith to surrender. My mind kept wandering into a place of marveling at the sheer spectacle of the entire congregation circling me creating a matrix of hands upon one another resulting in the energy loop that was both visceral and moving. I marveled at those that were touched by light and being thrown by the force of nature and belief into a world beyond. As I stood and made my apologies I could see the look of amazement, confusion and even disappointment on their faces, as I simply stood and walked away knowing this is not my day and possibly not my way. My moment in the circle of believers was moving and transformational, I think of it often and as a result of my experience I gained a respect for conviction and commitment to a higher power that has both supported me on my spiritual path but also inspired me to open my mind and heart to believers of all faiths, understanding that the most important piece is to believe. I have studied and practiced I have joined in many different varieties of celebration of spirit. But nothing comes close to the passion and commitment to tradition and belief I witnessed here in Phuket town during the vegetarian festival. This is not a festival where vegetarians gather and commune, sharing recipes. They believe that at this time God comes to Phuket and as a way to show respect and gain the favor of the gods they refrain from sex, alcohol, smoking and eating flesh. They call this the vegetarian festival. I heard that this event was to happen during my visit but was never given a complete historical and spiritual perspective until the morning to the night I went to the central Chinese temple to witness for myself this powerful demonstration of the belief in and respect for relationship to a higher power. I was fortunate at the last minute the morning of the day I had planned to go and search out the place that the famous demonstrations take place to have breakfast with a very charming new friend. She is Bangkok born a mix of Chinese and Thai she is fluent in English. The joke was that she spoke five languages, Chinese, Thai, Queens English, American, and Australian. After our 2 hour breakfast on the bayside deck outside of her hotel suite in Chalong Bay she introduced me to the owners of the hotel. A very charming Chinese couple both Buddhists who have lived on Phuket for many years. They told me the legend that inspires the 9 day celebration is that for these 9 days God comes to Phuket. In that Phuket has the honor to host the most honored guest the believers show respect by wearing white or yellow, do the vegetarian thing and have celebration and ritual throughout the 9 days. It is as if they are throwing a party for God.
I have been to the festival grounds twice once during the day and once at night.
As I graze through the scene snacking on the different offerings from the food booths I look for anything that is unrecognizable, this is my way too have a full experience.
http://www.phuket-info.com/vegeterian.htm. Not once did I try a dish that was not absolutely delicious. I am still not inspired to become once again a vegetarian but I do have a new perspective of the vast variety of dishes that are possible with vegetables alone.
I can commit when I return next year to partake in the festival 100% stopping sort only of becoming a medium and performing acts of self mutilation. However upon reflection this is not too different than my apparently once a year mutilations brought on by my passion for pushing the edge whether or not I am on a mountain Bike, skis, or a motorcycle.

I will return next year with a deeper understanding of the rituals and I will partake in all of the parades and demonstrations. It is a beautiful time of year here and I have made some good friends, I look forward to revisiting.
In conclusion this experience has affirmed my commitment to believing in absolutely everything, has you ever seen a butterfly? If so how could you not.

Spirit Calling

2007-10-14T22:28:00.000-07:00

This morning was unusual the roosters still crowed beginning with big Daddy the others following suit but today is different as it is the end of Ramadan a Muslim holiday. The day began with people throughout the valley going out into the streets just after Big Daddies first crow, and crowing right along with him. It was the most unusual experience I have had the opportunity to witness and share. I had taken a couple of sleeping pills having not any sleep the night before. A combination of my motorcycle wounds and a high level of dancing spirit reaching out through my body, kept me awake most of the night. Regardless of the effect of the sleeping aids the commotion throughout he valley this morning woke me before or just at sunrise. I got up and went outside to see what all the commotion was about. A very powerful sight not only was everyone up and out but people from the villages were all going to the the larger towns to gather at the Mosque. Muslims from throughout the valley all mobilizing to the center of their spiritual community. Horns honking and people yelling and singing the neighborhood loudspeakers carrying the voice of the neighborhood cantor as a sort of a background sound track for the whole scene that was right out of central casting. The energy was so infectious that I wanted to join them but this is not the place for tourist, and no matter how committed I might have been to share in the spiritual experience I fear I would have been viewed a voyeur. I was Ok with this as I had another mission to accomplish. The visual background to the march of the faithful was the most stunning, breathtaking sunrise I have had the blessing to view in my entire life. Every color of the color spectrum was represented. There was even shades of green; this is not a color I remember ever seeing in a sunrise. I have been working with my new high end camera to get the sort of shots I see in magazines produced be the pros. I have not been able to even get close to the richness and depth of color I see produced by the more experienced photographers. I am have not been discouraged, I recognize I am still learning. I was naïve in thinking the learning curve would be less and that I would certainly be taking pictures like a pro in a couple of months, well I was wrong. I do a reasonably good job with composition and subjects but this color and depth thing has been a real challenge. I am sharing this a because I am so excited that this morning I must say I got some really great pictures!! Deep rich and the colors vibrant and dynamic; very close to my eyes view. I have always believed that the true art in photography is to capture the vision of your eye in such a way as to communicate your relationship, feelings and inspiration to, of and from the subject. However sunsets and sunrises are not to be interpreted just getting the shot in such a way as to capture the depth and shear beauty is the best and really the only way to shoot it. I am so excited I have made a breakthrough into a whole new realm of photography! Getting back to the Ramadan celebration, I am inspired to study the Muslim religion to have a better understanding of the passion these people have for their belief I really have a limited perspective and living in a community that has such a large Muslim population within a predominantly Buddhist culture has inspired me to learn more. The Muslims I have met have been very kind to me and are such beautiful people. I am very respectful of their devotion to their faith. This week there is a vegetarian festival in Phuket town. Every one wears white the streets are full of food booths offering exotic vegetarian dishes. It is very colorful and there is ceremony everywhere. Drum troops children parading through the town with flags doing dances and singing. I have not been at night but I hear that the scene is even more colorful. Tonight is my night for this experience. I have been invited to dinner twice to a restaurant Ka Joc See. There is a marketing concept that has been around for some time it defines what the author sees as an experience economy. The owner of this restaurant really gets this concept, in fact he gets it so well that I think he could have either written the book that bears the title “ the Experience economy” or at least inspired it. This restaurant has been around for 15 years and my friend Ian tells me that from day one the place has been rocking. First the food is outstanding but the really fun part is that the owner employs shills there are three very beautiful women with great personalities and are great dancers. Then there are three men who fit the same description. The owner sits behind a screen out of view he is the DJ he reminds of the wizard of OZ. The other night when I was there with Ian and Sally and Sue two new friends that have retired here after a lifetime in the fashion industry. They are super fun very nice and they love to dance. This is a good thing because at Ka Joc See everybody dances. We took our seats and within just a few minutes one of the girls employed by the restaurant comes over taking my hand she and I start the groove basically all four of us were up dancing in the middle of the small restaurant before we even got our drinks. This goes on all night the scene heating up as the evening builds to people dancing on the tables men striped of their shirts limbo candles in the middle of the floor where men and women both take turns dancing over the candles in a sort of progression and in a very provocative manner. Next the transvestite Diana Ross impersonator appears and flat out blows the room away singing Motown hit after another. This is world class this man/woman really sings and does not miss a lick note perfect complete with costumes and all the traditional Motown moves, she is joined from time to time by a couple of the girls also with live mikes singing background this class A karaoke. I promise an amazing time is had by all guaranteed by the master coordinator behind the silk screen. Before I knew it we had four courses of fantastic cuisine and four hours of dancing the light fantastic totally forgetting my wounded knee! I have never experienced anything like this for certain. If a place like this opened in Miami or New York there would be lines around the block. Sadly enough I think Portland would miss it all together.
This is defiantly a Phuket town experience. I can’t wait to go back who knows maybe tonight, I have not danced so much since Johnny Travolta weighed 150 pounds!

The Measure Of a Man

2007-10-11T18:29:00.000-07:00

A Measure of a Man:

If I were to take the entirety of my life and put it on a scale what would it look like. The bigger question is what could I measure. Would it be accomplishments, friends, lives I have touched, money I have spent, the size of my heart the depth of my soul, the strength of my body, possessions, obstacles I have overcome, happiness, primary relationships, children and their safety, happiness, and resolve. Have I left anything out? Probably regardless the next step would be to look at all the above on both sides of the scale. I have looked at each day as a new beginning a birthday to be celebrated; felt the pain and the joy of sacrifice, I now look to the measurement of life, mine. In it’s most romantic sense it is easy to wake up each day and wipe out the past and begin anew. But as I believe even in rebirth there is Karma. And can I forget that I failed as a driver so I crashed a motorcycle, as every day I look at rebirth, I look into the mirror and see the scare upon my face. With the concept of Karma embodied then I must accept that upon rebirth I still carry the debts and the scares of the past. I can redefine in the rebirth process but the highest potential outcome would be to be a better, stronger, person, more capable of managing my Karma from this life and those behind me, and the relationship to the scares that never heal. It has been said that the measure of a mans life are those who walk beside him or those who stand by his grave. I believe it is how I feel in my heart and how strong my spirit is. Bruce Springsteen wrote in one of my favorite of his songs “ I remember being 5 years old following behind you tracings your footprints in the sand trying to walk like a man.” I did not have a teacher or guide to what is means to be a man. Through my life I have looked to many as my guides taking a little here and a little there. Today I am filled with self doubt, defeat, and questions of trust. My life is committed to mastery, how much of this is illusion, how much truth. Can a life be measured and if so only against oneself.
I my biggest critic and judge but if not me then who. Today I will walk on the beach and leave my own foot prints in the sand trying to walk like a man.
IF
by Rudyard Kippling

If you can keep your head
when all about you are losing theirs
And blaming it on you.
If you can trust yourself
when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too.
If you can dream and not make dreams your master.
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim.
If you can meet with triumph and disaster.
And treat those two impostors just the same.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken
And stoop and build'em up with worn out tools.
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss.
If you can force your heart, and nerve, and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone
And so "hold on" when there is nothing on you
except the will which says to them "hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue
Or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch.
If neither foe nor loving friend can hurt you.
If all men count with you ... but none too much.
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
with sixty seconds worth of distant run.
Yours is the earth, and everything that's in it.
And which is more ... You'll be a Man, my son.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.

I ache to be a better me……………..

How Much is Enough

2007-10-11T03:39:00.001-07:00

The deeper I go into self I keep coming up with the concept of sacrifice. I was told once by my therapist that the minute you understand the price you are paying for any action you then have the opportunity to decide if the price is too much if it, is it is in our nature to stop whatever action we are questioning. This could be smoking, drinking, a job, or any relationship. Everything we do is a relationship, whether it is with self or another, the other does not have to be a person as I mentioned it can be an addiction or an activity of any kind. If we are spending too much for the result than this becomes personal sacrifice.
This can be a betrayal to ones spirit. Slowly killing the one element of your being that is in my opinion the most important. One can deal with most anything life can throw at you providing your have a strong spirit. The balance between sacrifice and gain must be equal and hopefully the gain outweighs the sacrifice, we could call this the investment.
Work is this way. We sacrifice time away from our families sometimes and for many of us our work is not aligned with what we love most. How many musicians are working in music stores because they cannot make a living as an artist, or even working in data processing. Put this together with not having time to play in the evenings because of family obligations or simply we are too tired.
How long can we go spending more than we are getting in return, until we run out. This is when we have nervous breakdowns, make bad decisions in our lives; throwing good money after bad. In gambling we call in knowing when to walk away, as your have already spent more than you can afford. This is when we are tempted to double down to try to win back what we have lost, this almost never works. When the chips are down it is time to walk. Your health or your self esteem are to much valuable to risk. They are difficult to renew and often impossible.
I was really taken back when my friend asked me this very hard question “Jeff how much is this costing you, and is it worth it. Because if it is not it will kill you, if not your health your spirit.” I had never looked at this perspective and even though I am aware of the concerp I still find myself having a difficult time discerning, the cost benefit ratio, there are so many aspects to life. There are many gray areas, this is not like sitting at a Blackjack table where even there, the awareness of when you have spent to much can be difficult, even though it is much more tactile than the issues of the body mind and spirit.
So the question is how much is enough? This could be the most difficult question any of us ever have to ask ourselves.
The challenges are always compounded by our emotional buy in to any given situation.
Telling ourselves selling points such as; but I know it will work, I am committed, if I try a little harder, what else could I do. Our identity gets wrapped up into our commitments and have a tendency to blind us. Emotional commitment and passion are good and valuable aspects of the human spirit but also potentially dangerous. How else can we explain people who stay in an abusive relationship, or George Bush standing before us looking us all in the eye and saying we will stay the course. Against all advice and with all the criticism he receives is he spending too much or is he receiving benefits that are hidden to us. It is the same with those in abusive relationships, or failing businesses. I once had a business that failed and even though the writing was on the wall I took it to the very end, left with only enough gas money to go find a construction job. Had I not found a job in that first day I would have had to leave my truck on the side of the road or slept in it. I was emotionally involved and therefore took it too far. Was the reward of knowing I gave it my best shot, my bottom dollar, enough to protect and feed my spirit? Looking back I can now say no it was not. The question I sit with tonight is where else had I over spent? The biggest problem here is that I am beginning to recognize that this is cumulative. Each time we over spend we get in a sort of exponential downward spiral. And if we go to the point of no return then we begin to borrow from rationale. This begins a similar situation as when we get into credit card debt we begin to borrow from our bodies to feed our spirit or our spirit to feed our bodies or our mind to feed all of the above. I once heard that” the degree that one regrets their position is the degree one will distort reality to support it, ” this is most certainly a slow suicide.
So how much is enough, is there any area in your life that the sacrifice is greater than the return. A complicated question to be sure as life is not that simple there are so many threads in the fabric of our lives. But think of a pair of blue jeans, if you get a hole in the knee how long does it take for that hole to grow before the jeans are completely useless and the hole beyond repair.
How much is enough, this is the hard question at least for me tonight.

Today is the rest of my Life

2007-10-10T05:51:00.000-07:00

Her name is Mum, fits her perfectly. Mum is in her late 60’s if is she is a day. She is my snooze alarm the rooster being the first ring. Precisely 10 minutes before sunrise he beings his calling out to the world. If he has a name it may be Big Daddy. I say this because slowly after Big Daddy begins his morning wake up call the other Rosters begin. One by one they wake up and begin to contribute to big Daddy’s crowing. Soon there is a chorus, impossible to ignore. I quite like it nature waking the world with the call of a rooster. Once Mum has had time to put herself together maybe an hour or so after Big Daddy’s first call she in her Muslim wrap begins to sweep the entire property where my little bungalow is located. There are 8 bungalows a large open sided barn looking garage and tool building and a large and very beautiful manor house. I could be similar to an old plantation layout. If I do not get up with the sounds or the rooster crows, my snooze alarm Mum comes along and I hear her gentle sweeping the yard. I love to lie in bed and listen to the sound and I love that she does this. It is natures way. Luca you know how you can take a chicken leg and pull the ligaments and make the claws move, this is how I feel today as if there is a foreign being pulling on the my ligaments makes my hand cramp involuntary. I think this gives me some insight to how a woman must feel as nature takes over her body in the child bearing process it feels some times as if my body is not my own It is natures way.
My wounds are healing slowly but they are healing. I dress them twice a day, I really took a big fall this time much worse than my trail riding bike accident two years ago and that was a bad fall. Good news is I am healing. I have been focusing during my morning meditations at the Temple on taking each day as an opportunity to redefine myself. Who do I want to be today, how do I want to feel and how will I address the challenges before me, each day is my birthday the first day of the rest of my life no before only now and visions of tomorrow.
I continue to count my blessings the greatest is my children. We their mother and I decided to have a family I told her that I wanted to have clearly defined roles she being the primary care giver and I the bread winner. To that point in my life I had never held a child. The only reason I decided to move forward with the family thing was that I had reached a point that I loved her so much that I could think of no better way to show this love and to celebrate it was to give her what see wanted so dearly children. I told her this on her 32nd birthday and we proceeded with a bottle of cheap Champaign and a fire to lay in font of the fire and make love. The sensation was instant, we both felt it and there was no doubt that she had been impregnated at that very moment in front of the fire in our modest house in South East Portland. Nine months later Monica was born and ever thogh I said I would not be a front line Dad the moment I met Monica I could not keep my hands off of her. One year later after Monicas first birthday party JoAnne and I recreated the fireplace experience and Colin was seeded and his life began, nine months later the same experience happened for me it was love at first sight. Children have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, it is natures way.
I hade broken through the community here I think it was a 2 week rule, Once you pass the two week mark you are no longer a tourist and at that point the locals began to open up to me. Since then I have made some very nice friends. Two groups of developers, one has asked me to consult with the. I will go over their plans and strategy and offer any insights I may have. I look forward to this. In seeing all the development here I have reconnected with my love of bluilding. The others are two women Sally and Sue. Very dymamic smart and successful they are building 9 high end houses. They started the project with Sally’s then partner, lover, friend Max. Six months ago Max died in his sleep leaving the whole dream in Sallys’s hand. Never having experience in development this has been a huge challenge for her. She has stepped up to the plate with the support of her friend of 25 years a Thai lady Sue. And together they leaned in the fire how to be developers. I admire them and Sally in particular very much against all odds, she was in a non option position and she has delivered. Good job Sally you deserve all best that world has to offer.
I wish the two of you all the luck and joy in the world.

One of the local magazines is doing a piece on Nia. In a conversation with another of my new friends Ian the editor ( Barry) mentioned this and Ian said this is a fun coincidence I just had dinner with the Ceo of Nia. Barry called me the next day and asked me to go over the piece. There were a few facts that needed to be corrected but all in all a really nice coverage of Nia. In our conversation I mentioned to Barry the editor that I was a bit of a writer, and let it go at that. The next day he emailed me and asked me if I would be interested in writing a piece on billboard pollution on the Island. He said he wanted a slightly humorus tone a bit of tongue and cheek. I accepeted the offer. However as I began to right and give some real thought to this I had a difficult time finding a way to spin the story in the way he directed, bascally I saw no humor in the subject matter. So I wrote what I wanted 1,287 words 87 words over his request. I sent it off to him really expecting him to reject it but on the contray, he loved it so now I am a published photo journalist an international one at that! My first paying gig as a writer and photographer, I am ecited about this.
It was a challenge and I stepped up to the plate and hit a home run and made a new friend.

The frogs out side my window have stopped the nightly serenade I assume that the mating season is over so no more foggier orgies outside my window.

I am continuing to get to know the locals better and better. In fact I have a difficlt time even walking to town, someone almost always stops to offer me a ride. This gives me as opportunity to connect with a new friend and I love it that they do this.
I miss my walk but the sacrifice is worth it.
I continue to go to the temple to pray and the monks warm more to me every day. They now see me not as a tourist but respect that we are all committed to a similar if not the same devotion. My theme remains today is my birthday, I am my new self.
One last note my Italian studying is coming along very well I look forward to surprising my friends in Venice I am sure that Luca will be sure to put me to the test. Chi Vediamo a presto Vechhio.
Today is the rest of my life, Happy birthday to all of you.
Love Jeff Stewart

Waiting for the world to change

2007-10-06T03:43:00.000-07:00

I have written to a few of my friends asking for suggestions of songs for me to learn as I want to build a new acoustic set. ( anyone have any ideas send them to stewartniaceo@yahoo.com) I miss playing and I like to play out but my old set list is stale and I have not been listening to much new music these past 11 years my life consumed with family and Nia. Each one of them suggested among others one song in common “Waiting For the World to Change” by John Mayer. I learned the song it is a very easy song for me to play, basic blues and my voice can not only reach all the notes but this sort of song is simply my kind of song both from a tonal and voice perspective.
But as I sat learning the song I found myself sad and depressed. Here is a guy who is very popular and an influence on his generation singing that basically, there is no hope and that he and his friends are “waiting on the world to change.” He speaks of the hopelessness of the situation and how powerless he feels in the face of the powers that be. I find this sad, it maybe true to a degree but sending a message to the world or at least his fans and a generation that it is useless so you might as well kick back and wait?

I had dinner with a couple of young 40 something’s who are into the big development business here in Phuket. Although these are the only developers I have spoken too I will assume that most of what they told me was true. When we met I asked some questions about the development processes here in Thailand and this led to our dinner together. I drilled them with questions. I asked them how can a foreigner buy land and develop. Are all the buildings made of concrete. Who are the buyers the list goes on but for now this will give you an idea of what I found out. In one of my last post I described a large condo development where the workers lived in a tin shack shanty town across the street from the development. At that time I questioned where was all the money being spent to build 40 unit condo projects with the starting price 1,000,000 and going up to 2.5 million. I knew the materials were cheap and the labor as well. I even went into a fixture store with high end fixtures and found that this was not where the major expenses were. At that time I assumed that the land must eat up a major portion of the expense budget. The developers I had dinner with told me that while the land prices are high certainly higher than just a few years ago and going up all the time, they were still very reasonable and still very cheap compared to the world we know. These gentlemen are from London one is an economist the other marketing man. Neither had any prior building experience, but they knew of Phuket the marketing guy had a second home here for years which included a Thai girlfriend , whether or not his wife in the UK knew of the girlfriend I did not ask and so therefore do not know, this has little bearing of my conclusion however it does give insight to the character of the team. Both of them worked for a major UK bank and were posted in Hong Kong when they were both let go at the same time. Marketing guy tells economist guy let’s go to Phuket and chill and regroup and decide what to do next. They decided to build this development company. They put together a plan found investors along with a Thai landowner who put up the land and off they went. I think they were interested in getting to know me better as I maybe some one who could join their group as an investor or at the very least sell me a Condo. Now don’t get me wrong these are very nice men, and of the proper English type. Blue blood well schooled and very well mannered and charming. So in the end I asked them if the materials are cheap the land is cheap and the labor is even cheaper than where is all the money going “In our bank accounts we are making a killing here!” I am sure that there are less successful stories of foreign investors here in Thailand as well as other third world countries but the bottom line is the rich are getting very rich here and in China and India and Vietnam and the poor are just staying poor. Is this right? If they paid the workers a higher wage would it screw up the culture or the economy? These are very big questions, the workers all seem happy enough. At the end of the evening as we paid the bill of thirty dollars apiece (this was a very nice high end restaurant) I tipped the waitress 3 dollars, I handed the money directly to her as I wanted to be sure that she knew it was for her I bowed and said thank you in Thai. My dinner hosts told me that I tipped her way to much and that I would spoil her for next time, this was not good for them. Now remember that these are young millionaire developers; something is wrong here at least by my estimation.
I tell you this story because as I travel I am becoming more and more aware that the world does not need to change the people do. You try to tell a trucker in Beijing that he needs to not drive his highly polluting truck and he will just laugh at you as will the government that supports him, they as he are delighted that he has a truck, any truck that will transport goods so they can keep getting richer. Why are all the big tech companies moving all their manufacturing to these countries? Not because they are going broke and need the economic advantage it is because they are capitalist and as so the primary objective is to make more money keeping the stock holders happy so they can afford to travel to these beautiful lands and travel in an isolated style much like me in my Oriental limousine touring Bangkok for a day. They stay in protected enclaves and never see the poverty and the reality of the land except from beautiful hotels on pristine beaches or on luxury cruse boats meandering down the beautiful rivers. All the while being waited on hand and foot by servants who are making 20 dollars a day at a hotel that is charging 300-5,000 dollars a night. That’s right John Just keep on waiting and in the mean time you can do so with your millions of rock dollars in a 5,000 dollars a night suite on a private beach almost anywhere in the world. But be sure to use the helicopter service I would not want you to get your 3,000.00 cowboy boots dirty. Maybe you should call up Bono and see if he can join you for lunch you may learn something.
A few years back I was taking some classes at Portland State University I had enrolled in a student taught class titled Anarchy. I loved this class it introduced me to some of the great writings of some of the great revolutionaries and anarchist in history; Noam Chomsky, Emma Goldman, Peter Kropotkin, and many more. My class mates were primarily of the expected group young anarchist in their own right although mostly uninformed and naive they were a passionate group. One day we were having a discussion of Aids in Africa. For the most part the group was passionate as always making judgments and questioning why it was such a big challenge to get these people to recognize the danger of unprotected sex with multiple partners. After a considerable amount of debate on the subject a young woman who I must say looked as out of place in this group as I. She dressed conservative was blond bright cheerful face, one would wonder if she was missing cheerleading practice. To this point she had stayed out of the debates and was for the most part a bystander. But this particular debate really pushed her button and she stood up and told us that she had just returned from Africa living in the bush for two years with a nomadic tribe. She told us that the one thing that none of us could never understand without experiencing it was that these people had nothing, their lives were full of day to day survival, death of children starvation and disease and fear of an invasion of any of a number of ruthless marauders from either the government or maybe a neighboring tribe. The only thing they had to look forward to at the end of the day was love and human touch and when they crawled into their tents at night they could give a damm about unprotected sex and as far as multiple partners they were happy to have anyone to hold and love. Tell them that if they continue these practices they will die, and they have not the capacity to relate. They are dying anyway and their children are dying in exorbitant numbers and so what difference does it make to them if it is Aids, starvation, or any other disease or marauding thugs from other tribes or the government that slauters them for little or no gain. Needless to say this humbled all of us and shut the righteous down a couple of notches.
If we want to change the world we have to change the people. From the big cat capitolist right down to the people in the streets in all countries western world and third world alike.
Because as it stands we have no unity and we have not collectively reached a point of pain that will force change, and when we do will it could be too late.
Wouldn’t it be great for the capitalist to learn that they can spread the wealth and become even richer. But I imagine this would involve a certain amount of undetermined risk and this is the most feared concept to any capitalist undetermined risk. It will be long time coming for this to happen. Thank you bill Gates an Bill Walton, Bono and my friends JR for doing what you can but it is a drop in the bucket. But if we can all get off our butts and away from our noise boxes (TV’s) and go out into our community and spend time with fatherless children volunteer time at the schools and at the SBA, follow in Paul Newman’s steps, maybe there is hope. Here is a math project for you if the richest 15% of the planet gave one days income four times a year to change how much would that be.
I think it would fill the bucket. And if the rest of us spent one days time four times a year sharing our knowledge or our sweat and time how much would that be. Can we ask the hard questions and would it be enough I think so, it would be a great start. And if you need to feel pain to change take your imagination to the future where we risk all in hopes of having it all so we can play golf on yet another pristine golf course while our wives luxuriate in the beautiful spa being pampered by people who make less in a year than your purse cost.
Think about it someone needs to, or do we.
Nothing radical is going to happen in our life times or will it and who gives a damm.
I do.
And don’t forget all the money in the world can not buy you piece of mind or a full heart.
The problem is even though we are all the same we are not.
How do you change the world if 90% of the people in it are very content with things as they are, they cannot see beyond their own backyard or their bank account.

One last story I met a man in Bangkok who is in the jewelry business. He grew up in New York City he his 59 years old and was immersed in the hippy movement remember the hippies. Peace love hippy beads and a passion for changing the world. So many of the songs of that era were on this very subject. He fucked around with his hippy ideologies until he was 30 then kids came he settled down and got into the jewelry business. To this day he smokes pot daily and dresses like a hippy, his two boys went to the best schools both of them being hired in the first round draft picks from major investment houses both of them choosing careers in investment banking. They are both not yet 30 and already multi millionaires living in million + condos on the upper eastside. As you can imagine dad is very proud of his boys. What was he this Jewish pot smoking hippy jeweler doing in Thailand? Checking up on his 400 person factory in a remote area in Thailand. Why is his factory here….
Labor is cheap. What happened to the dreams of most of an entire generation of dreamers. They had families and that is more important than the world.
I leave you with an assignment, Get out a collection of your old hippy disks a bottle of wine lie on your living room floor in your beautiful home and remember and think what can I do in one hour a week to make a difference, and if your are are you doing enough.
I suggest you begin with John Lennon Imagine and end with the same.
And for you John Mayer your assignment is to write a song of hope and action.
It is our world and we hold the paint brush to paint it any color we want.
Whether or not we like it the power is in our hands, too change or not.

Wounded In Phuket

2007-10-05T22:07:00.000-07:00

I was invited to have lunch with a friend of Mark and Rhonda’s in Phuket City.
His name is Ian and we had a great time together. The restaurant was fantastic and it was good to have some good conversation with a very interesting man. He has done so many different things in his life, filmmaker, stuntman, entrepreneur. On the way into Phuket town I was stopped by the police and given a ticket for not wearing a helmet. This turned out to be a very good thing. As I was leaving Phuket City to return home I was cut off by a fellow cyclist and took the big dive, basically I got in a wreak. Rhonda the bike is ok I however am pretty banged up. The left side of my face is hamburger and my left knee as well is swollen and cut up pretty bad. I ruined my favorite Thailand travel pants and my favorite shirt. Sorry to not have posted recently but yesterday I was in bed all day dosing off and on with pain killers also my left eye is almost swollen shut so it is difficult to focus for very long, it begins to water and then I can not see out of it at all. This is the worst bang up I have had in a long time and for those who know me that is saying a lot.
The wreak happened when a woman who had two children as a passengers on her motor scooter in heavy traffic in Phuket town cut me off I either let her rear wheel connect with my front wheel or turn sharply to avoid her. Either way I would have gone down but I chose to not take her with me. The road was muddy and wet with all of the rain we have been having so I had no chance of recovery. I hit the ground so fast I did not even have time to take me hands off of the handle grips. My head slammed into the curb, it is a very good thing I had my helmet on. I remember thinking this as I hit the curb “ Damm I’m glad I have this helmet on.” There is a fun part to the story. As I picked myself and the bike up and was checking to see if there was any damage to the bike as well as check to see if I had broken any bones, I determined quickly that the bike was ok, a little dent on the front basket easy to fix and I had no broken bones. I did not bother to look in to the mirror to see my wounds. As you can imagine I was in shock so the pain had not yet set in. I was approached by a young man, he spoke no English. I told him I was ok and as I started up the bike to drive away he reached over me and turned off the bike took the keys and put down the kick stand. He made me look into the mirror of the bike and I then saw the blood streaming down my face. He then grabbed me by the hand and led me off of the bike and while holding my hand the entire time walked me through the parking lot into a store that was sort of a Payless. He marched me into the infirmary and the two women in attendance quickly stripped me down to my underwear. Remember your mama always telling you to wear nice clean underwear? Well I was happy I had any on at all, and yes they were nice and clean. The two of them scraped the gravel out of my wounds and cleaned me up applying iodine. When the iodine appeared the young man who was still standing next to me took me hand so I could squeeze his hand as this was the really painful part of the clean up process. They charged me nothing and after I dressed my angel again took my hand not letting go of it the entire time walked me back to my bike.
He took the helmet out of the basket and put it on my head and strapped me in like I was a child. He bowed to me and I thanked him bowing back and then I was on my way home to lick my wounds. The next day I went to the local pharmacy and was very happy to find a very beautiful and fluent English speaking pharmacist on hand she stocked me up with healing potions and instructions. One hundred dollars later and a sack of remedies in hand I was on my way to the Jeff Stewart infirmary. Where I have been ever since. I am happy that I am well stocked with food having just been to the market the night before my accident.
So no worries to all of you and me I will heal and be back at it soon enough. And remember that this trip is about Ego so I am not even worried that I will most likely have a nice souvenir scare on my cheek to remind me, to one wear a helmet and two beware of women carrying two children on a motorbike and three there is always an angel close by.
I have always liked the pirate look anyway, goes with my earring!
Until next time wounded in Phuket…………

Definition Of Self

2007-10-02T23:01:00.000-07:00

I just had a huge Frog jump up onto my deck! I have been playing guitar maybe he likes my playing, my first fan in Thailand. It is definetly the rainy season here. It has been raining off and on since the first rain four days ago. Last night it was a torrential storm high winds and heavy rain. I was up until two writing for this blog I totally messed up and as I rolled over to go to sleep I shut off my computer without saving my Doc. 1,200 words lost, I will not have to learn this lesson twice. As I sit on my deck the frog is still hanging out while the rain pours down, two of the neighborhood children are playing in the rain running splashing in the puddles/ lakes, the clouds as they brush the mountains appear as they are painting the trees even a deeper green then they already are, so rich, emerald in color. The rains feeding the earth it responds vibrantly with sound and color. There are so many different sounds I wish I could identify them, most of them are foreign to me. There is an amazing chourus that ensues every night after dark just outside my bungalow. I assumed that the source was a couple of huge frogs. They will sing in unison for 5 to 10 minuites and then at the very same time stop. They stop for a minute or two and then as if directed by a conductor they begin again right on que. The sound is unbelievably loud I finally decided to go and check it out with a flash light. As I approached the area from which the sound eminates they of course stopped. I snooped around with my flashlight expecting to see as I said some huge frogs. Slowly they began too sound and still I could see nothing. All of this sound and no visual of the source, perplexed I ventured further. I parted bushes and looked deeper into the terrain. Finally I saw a very tiny frog pale in color and no bigger than my thumb. There was no way this little guy could be making all this sound I figured this was baby frog. And then I saw another and another, now that I knew what I was looking for they were everywhere. There must me hundreds of them all in a hundred square foot area. It is not the combination of them sounding that makes it so loud they are loud by themselves put them all together and you have a thunderous result. As they are pale in color I imagine that they are night frogs, the reason they sound like this for hours in unison I can only imagine. Maybe it is mateing season and I have this huge orgy happing outside my window. Regardless it is amusing and the sound although very loud and not very pleasing to the ear does not bother me in the least, it would not matter if it did because these little guys are not going anywhere soon. So I chose to hear it as my nightly lullaby. Today I met a friend of Rhonda’s who came to bring me fresh sheets she is a Ladyboy. I have heard that this is very common here in Thailand but I had not yet come across any. I know now why, because you would not know a ladyboy if you saw one this woman I call her woman because she is in everyway except one. I only kenw because Rhonda mentioned in a email that her friend a Ladyboy would be coming by. She was very actraive and I would never have guessed this was not a woman in the physical sence in a million years. Ladyboys are so common in Thailand that Ladyboy is even in the dictionary of course so is lounge lizard so maybe that is not such a big deal. I have always been very compassionate in regards to those who are for some reason not alingned with the body God gave them. And I thought I had issues. Then again who am I to judge could be that it is perfect in everyway, being a Ladyboy that is. I am very happy that I am a man and there is no confusion about that. The solutude continues to entertain me, this such a great opportunity to go deep into my psyche in fact it is unavoidable. I was reading some passages from some of the great writers and it seems to be a common theme many of them chosing solitude for this very reason, searching the soul. The challenge is not to get caught up in the drama of the demons of, insecurity, loss, loneliness, broken promises, and painful memories. The secret is to draw from the dreges of the soul to inspire and grow, and to regognise the opportunity to turn the darkness into light. I am beyond the wall now and I embrace all that this solitary experience brings. I am blessed and I am stronger every day.
I still have not had any achole or caffine, this is easy for me so much so at one point I stopped a reflected; damm I haven’t had a drink and I have not even though of doing so.
This surprised me as I am quite the drinker, or at least I thought so, being redefined moment by moment.

Without Fear

2007-10-02T22:48:00.000-07:00

I walk down to the seashore and look out to the ocean
the reflection of the water is all I need
to remember how we wandered tortured and confused
that stormy winter night in love, our bodies in embrace
closer than one, we lay.
If I ever had a reason to hold a memory near
if I ever had a reason to prevail
I look to ocean and see the reflection of all that I hold dear.
Once again I question why there has to be a reason
for us to in reflection ask ourselves the hard questions
of our life’s dilemma what do we have to fear.
Do we fear to be lonely or judgment of the other,
commitment to the unknown.
If there’s ever been, a reason to wonder,
a reason to fear, we can simply listen to the call of our hearts
and hold that which we love, hold it close without fear.

Solitary Confinment

2007-09-30T05:32:00.000-07:00

I hit the solitude wall today. It is my eighth day here and I as surprised that this minin breakdown came so soon, but it did. I cannot say it is loneliness just a solitude break down. I am so hungry for a conversation with any one about any thing. My mind is playing tricks on me bouncing me around between complete optimism and negativity. I have to stop and jolt myself out of this vicious cycle. So I decided to go Patong. There is a big new mall there full of western style shops of all kinds. I got a manicure, and then some shopping. I bought a couple of new shits a white dress shirt (20.00$’s) and then a red t-shirt with the number 37 on it. I could not pass this one up as 37 is my lucky number. This one cost me 15.00$’s. After I wandered around a bit more I went to the extreme and had dinner at Burger King the food was just as in America but more expensive 6$’s for the meal deal. The burger was ok but the fries were heavenly. Then I had a hot fudge sundae at Swenson’s bought a people magazine and went home. This did the trick I feel much better.
I avoided the human touch element and the martini’s. I think I will make this a weekly ritual every seven days I will go to the mall do a little shopping get a manicure.
And on the seventh day he shopped and ate Pizza!

Today is another rainy day and I am rain locked. So today will be about studing, working out, meditating and playing guitar, I am glad I went to town to get over the solitude blues I am in a much better place today I can focus and produce.

The rains are colder today the weather is changing you can feel it in the temperature of the rain and the cool breeze that accompanies it. The Sun is still very hot and I know there will many days to come for hanging on the beach. There sure as hell better be as I am just now beginning to get an tan. This is a big deal for a pink skinned Scottish Boy! Sunday in Phuket.

Jokes on Me

2007-09-29T00:09:00.000-07:00

The other night as I was sitting playing guitar on my porch, the neighborhood cantor began to sing. I have been disappointed in my voice lately and so I need to start doing some exercises. I had the idea to find this beautiful voice and maybe try to sing along with him. I put away my guitar, locked up the Bungalow and began to walk towards the sound of his voice. As I was walking I started my attempt to sing along, I very quickly realized that this guy was a tenor and a high tenor at that and there was no way I was going to be able to sing along with him, I am a bass really a baritone. But I was in motion so continued to follow the sound of his voice. As I have mentioned before his voice carries out over the whole neighborhood. It is amazing to hear just how far his voice projects. As I am walking I think I am getting close to the source and then I hear his singing coming from somewhere behind me. This was very confusing, as I thought I was going in the right direction. So I turned and began to walk in the other direction. And then all of a sudden he was in stereo; what, was there another singer? I kept walking and then I heard the voice coming from over head I looked up and saw two loudspeakers on a utility pole. I then noticed that there are speakers on poles throughout the neighborhood. I had been duped, the mans voice is being projected through the neighborhood over a PA system! I had to laugh at myself and my romantic nature. All this time I have been listening to the man sing I am thinking WOW what a voice, rich, velvety tone and so powerful you can hear him throughout the valley. I had this image of him standing on a hill and just singing out to the world. Truth is he is sitting is a room somewhere and singing into a microphone. Well fact remains he does have a beautiful voice and I can’t touch it.

Yesterday I needed to find a Guitar store and so I went into Patong, the nearest big town. This is the big tourist spot in this area of Phuket. I never doubted for a moment that there would be a music store there where I could get what I needed. Patong is full of bars with live music so this made sense to me. Well there are no music stores in Patong. I asked around going into a variety of stores. Starbucks, Barnes and Nobles any place that was of English origin hoping to find someone who spoke English well enough to understand what it was that I was looking for, but to no avail. I finally found a woman at the registration desk at a major hotel who spoke very good English. She told me that I would have to go to Phuket City to find what I needed. Phuket City is about 30min from Patong so I decided to take the trip. It would be fun to do some more exploring and I really did need to find a Capo for Rhonda’s guitar. So off I go on the little motor scooter on the Phuket City adventure. The road there is a main highway and the traffic was heavy. There were buses, trucks, cars and a many motor scooters like mine/Rhonda’s. The variety of vehicles creates a mess of traffic. The buses are old and very slow as are many of the trucks. Most of the motor scooters the one I am on included are also slow particularly when there is a hill involved. And then there are the new cars and big new motorcycles. Sometimes the traffic creates three lanes where there is one. Basically if there is any chance that one can be passed the drivers around here just go for it. So you can have a Motor Scooter passing a truck being passed by a new car or motorcycle and the same time a similar situation is happening coming from the other directing. I call this doing the traffic dance. I am just happy this is not Contact Improve!
I made it to Phuket City in one piece and as soon as I saw a store that was music related I stopped to see if I could get directions to the, or a music store. Phuket City is a maze of shops all of them that I could see were small and specialized, so I knew that just driving around would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I went into a large by comparison CD and DVD store and asked for help no one spoke English well enough to have a clue what I was saying, I was not surprised. So I began to just walk around to do some exploring. I went into a fabric store and looked for a buttons to match some fabric I bought in Bangkok. As I was looking at the button selection a woman approached me and asked me in perfect English if she could help me. I was excited help had arrived. I told her of my search. She told me that she was from Phuket city and she had no idea where I could find a music store that sold guitars and related equipment. Discouraged I left the store to continue my recon-mission but not before checking out the fabric selection. They had one bolt of very nice white cotton I was thinking would make a beautiful shirt. I passed on the white cotton and was on my way. I walked around for 45min or so and I realized that this was ridiculous I would never find what I was looking for this way; this place is a maze with no pattern at all. Phuket City was primarily developed around the turn of the century to support a boom in tin mining, as was much of the island.( http://www.phuket.com/island/phuket-tour.htm ) Phuket city being the center as it was and still is a major port having a natural bay suitable for the accommodating the shipping of the tin this is also a fishing town. I did not find the port or any the part of the city that holds the beauty history or charm. The buildings in “Old Phuket Town” were built with French colonial influences. Interesting but the buildings are not well maintained and their charm is lost in the chaos of the surrounding City. Remember I was only walking around for 45 min. I am sure there are other parts of the city that are very nice, I just did not see them. There is vegetarian festival in Phuket City the second week in October I will return to experience this so I may have a different perspective after my second visit. Finally I gave up on finding my needle in the haystack and decided to split the scene. But not before returning to the fabric store the white cotton was calling out to me. I bought the fabric 2.5 meters, 3 dollars. I then got on my motor scooter and decided to cruise around the city just a little more in a last attempt to find not only the music store but something of beauty and interest in the City. I did see some very big beautiful and old estates, most likly the homes of the Tin barrons. After some time I once again gave up a said I’m outta here. I no sooner made my commitment to split than I turned a corner and lo and behold a guitar shop. It was small but it had a guitar in the window, I parked the scooter entered the shop and found my capo. The capo cost 80 baht about one dollar. I scored and had a experience as well. Life is a magic carpet ride! Sometimes……….

A Path

2007-09-27T21:05:00.000-07:00

Kuni was close to my age, or so I believe. Being Japanese it was difficult to determine Japanese women age so gracefully. We met in 1991 at the same time I began to practice Nia. I was going to Portland State College and was living in a Campus apartment in downtown Portland. I had put an advertisement up on the common board in the laundry room looking for someone to do my cleaning for me both my apartment and my laundry. I have never been very good at the laundry thing. I can use the machines ok but then the clean laundry usually sits because I can never seems to find the time to fold and iron. Kuni was the only applicant for the job. She came to my apartment to meet me and almost as soon as she sat down she noticed my alter, it was a Buddhist altar. Kuni herself a Buddhist was surprised and she asked me in her limited English what is was. I explained that I was a Buddhist and that this is where I prayed. She then told me that she too was a Buddhist. I hired her as my housekeeper and had no idea that I would get so much more. Before she left my apartment that day she asked me if I would like to pray together. I told her that that would be nice, that she could come to my apartment anytime to pray with me. The next thing I know we agreed that we would chant together every morning at 5:30am. This happened so fast I really had no time give it any thought, what would that look like? Anyhow the next morning and every morning there after Kuni came to my apartment in the early morning and we would kneel together in front of my altar and Chant for 30 min. rarely did I not join her, it was usually the mornings after I played a music gig sometimes arriving home just hours before or chant time I would as a result sleep through the session. Kuni had a key to my apartment and the agreement was that she would come and I would or would not join in. Her canting never bothered me in the least even if I was too tired to get out of bed to join her. I always enjoyed listing to her in the next room chanting her hypnotic chants. Kuni became my friend she took care of me when I was sick and would even feed me from time to time.
This went on for years until I moved from my apartment and Kuni back to Japan. I became a Buddhist as a young man. Before Kuni came to my apartment I never really had a regular practice. I would pray but not daily, there was no discipline to my practice. Buddhism for me was more of a way to look at the world I adopted it as an ideology that I could relate to and help to guide me, on my path though this life. I explored the big 4 in my search for a practice I chose Buddhism for very basic reasons. I liked the idea of Karma, and I liked it that Buddha was a man and that the history of his life did not seem like a fairy tale and that there really was no where in his teachings that spoke of guilt and punishment, other than that one may impose upon oneself. Buddha spoke of suffering but in a way that I could understand. I myself had left my family and rejected the path that was related to being the son of my father. I did it for different reasons than Buddha and was not conscious like he of my intention. I did do my share of self-imposed suffering I can assure you. I also liked it that the Buddhist were not into conquering. And I thought it interesting that as a man he died of food poisoning, simple and not glamorized in any way through history. When he died his most devout of disciples came together to discuss who would carry on in his place the decision was no one; that they would together continue to share the teachings with the world. Simple reasons but enough for me to adopt Buddhism as my guide.
I went to the Temple here in Phuket the one that where the Monk was sitting on the observation deck waving to me the day before. It not just a temple it is a monastery. As soon as I entered the gates I was welcomed by a Monk. He greeted me in English and by his delivery I assumed he spoke English well. I asked him to confirm and he said yes he did speak English but I very quickly discovered that what English he had spoken to me was it. From that point forward he did not understand a word I said. He just smiled and nodded his head and kept pointing to a road that I assumed led to the temple. I followed the road passing monks along the way all dressed in the traditional orange robes, they were engaged in all sorts of activities; weeding, painting, tile work and cleaning among them. I passed the crematorium and further up the hill I came to the temple. There are no formal hours for prayer other than I assume those for the monks. In that there was no one who spoke English I was unable to find out when they opened the great hall for prayer and if when they did if the general population was able to join them in their chanting. There is another place other than the great hall that is always open. It is a simple structure albeit ornate, all the structures other than the simple buildings where the monks sleep and eat are ornate. In this open structure is an altar upon which sits a statue of Buddha a table for offerings, people come daily and leave food and money. There was a stack of incense and a bowl full of sand with the remaining stalks of the burned incense left by those who had come before. The statue of Buddha was covered with gold leaf. People apply the gold leaf as a way of showing reverence. I entered this place and knelt, I lit some incense, bowed and prayed. Just outside of this little temple there was a very odd assortment of statues of people. There were seven of these statues. The statues were all white and macabre, grotesque in their shapes and appearance. All of them had red paint splattered on them mostly in the abdominal area. One was headless with the red paint dripping down the neck. This statue included a bird that was perched on the shoulders of the beheaded feeding on the flesh of the exposed neck, very strange. I wish there was someone who spoke English who could explain these statues to me.
I have found my Temple, it is not what I had envisioned but what ever is but it is perfect. I will go there every day, leave my offerings and pray.

Ask and You Shall Receive

2007-09-26T20:55:00.000-07:00

I was thinking that I wanted to find a Buddhist temple to go and worship. Today after the rains I was returning from a store where they sell facial products that they make on the premise, very high quality, I found the store one of the first days I was out exploring beyond Kamala I stocked up on bath products however I did not at the time need any facial products, I do now. So I went up the road to buy a facial mask. I noticed the facial mask when I was there the first time, I opened the sample jar and based on my experience determined that this was one strong mask the kind that if you need to have instant results, like when you have one of those big ass….let’s just say blemishes beginning to form on your nose; you can apply the mask and over night it will suck out the threatening life form. Well I am sure you have guessed by now, this morning I discovered that I needed just such a mask, enough said. I also wanted to buy some Aloe Vera to help my feet heal from the sores I got my first day here wearing my new flip flops. Today is a market day; market days are Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday from around 4:pm until people go home sometime around 9, it is also Ramadan. It is around 4:30, I am not sure if this is normal rush hour, I have not been cruising on any major roads at this time of day until now. During Ramadan many of the workers get to go home early and this is definitely rush hour; a rush hour with very loose traffic laws and full of hungry people. Remember that Ramadan is a time for fasting from sunrise to sunset. Rush hour here is a real free for all of Motor Scooters and cars jockeying for position on the roads. This is not the sort of traffic that one takes casual in fact you need to drive just like them or I think you may die. I am now very comfortable on Rhonda’s Motor Scooter and really had fun doing the traffic dance with the rest of the gang. Don’t worry Rhonda I learned how to ride a Motor Scooter (Vespa) when I was living in Rome, I could be called an Italian driver so therefore have experience with aggressive driving. In all this chaos I have my point and shoot camera hanging from my right wrist (this is of course the hand you use to activate the throttle and the front break) ready to take any instant shots that may call out to me. As I am going around a bend in the road precisely the point where the road goes from two lane to one and all the traffic is converging together silly me I look up and see this Buddhist Monk bald head just like me and in the traditional orange robe, sitting on some sort of a deck directly above the road; he looks me straight in the eye and waves. I found my temple it practically jumped into the middle of the road and hailed me in, ask and you shall receive, and all thanks to this big ass (blemish) that is threatening to become a growth beyond compare. Tomorrow I will go to the temple and see if it is open to the public for worship. I am excited too as you say Axel with intent “fall on my knees.” After the other night when the rains came it has continued to rain, raining most of the time. Last night it rained the entire night harder than I have ever experienced. There is a little fountain a decorative pool next to my Bungalow it has was empty and dry when I arrived this morning when I went outside I noticed that the rain had for the most part filled it up, to a depth of around 5 inches so I can say it rained 5 inches in 8hrs. My front yard along with the neighbors is a lake and still the rain kept coming. I was effectively rain locked. I could walk somewhere but where are you going to go that when you get there you are drenched to the bone. So I settled in and went about by business. I bounce from writing to playing guitar to reading to studying to working. I do not do well focusing for and long periods of time so this was a real challenge for me within hours I was getting pretty jumpy. I had some fun with my camera trying to capture the rain. I was able to get some shots that were fast enough to actually stop the rain, this was most effective taking pictures of the rain running off the roofs because the drops were big enough to focus on. As much as this journey is about self-exploration and as much as I embrace this process it is still easy for me to wander and avoid. When you are rain locked in a one room Bungalow for an entire day it is difficult to avoid. My mind begins to reel and my heart right along with it. This made for an emotional and moving day. Moving from now to then to next. At around 4:00 the rain had reduced to a drizzle and I decided to make a run for the facial mask. By the time I was on my way home it had effectively stopped, enough that when I passed the soccer field the boys were out in full force. I decided to go home and get my camera. I have the perfect lens for sports shooting a long lens 70-200mm. This is not a casual looking camera set up by any means it always attracts attention, today was no different. When I walked out onto the field the boys all began to laugh and pose and push each other around and I began to click away. They settled down quickly and got back to the game. There is nothing like a camera to bring out the best in people; the boys were playing hard. This camera is new for me and I still have some apprehension with going around and taking pictures of people in particular, I feel invasive. Well yesterday proved me wrong in this regard. The boys loved having me on the sidelines, their own team photographer. This was my first time shooting sports of any kind, I found it to be quite a challenge, it is all about anticipating where the ball is going and getting there first. I did Ok for my first time out. I was able to capture some fun moments, and some glorious ones. I will print off the best ones and take them to the field for the boys to take home. After the soccer game I was having so much fun I decided to venture into the Market. It was now dark and the market is lit by bare light bulbs dangling from cords here and there. This makes for very interesting lighting and dramatic photo opportunities. Still I am reluctant as I try to be a respectful person and I feel a bit invasive sticking a camera in someone’s face. Well my fears were quickly put aside. The people at the market like the boys on the soccer field loved having their pictures taken. The market proved to be a photographers playground. I was able to take many very beautiful pictures of the scene but my favorite pictures are of the people. The Thai people are so beautiful their eyes sparkle and when they smile their faces light up like the face of a child. They have huge hearts and they are a simple people who wear their hearts on their sleeves and you can see it in the light that surrounds them. I think I need to begin taking my camera with me everywhere. I only wish I had bought that 50mm 1.2 lens I was looking at in Bangkok instead of the diamond ring I bought Debbie for Christmas, opps........

Glass Houses

2007-09-25T23:01:00.000-07:00

I am a ghost wandering through the cosmos separate and yet connected. I speak they do not listen I smile they do not see. It is as if I am walking along side a parallel universe sharing the same physical reality and yet completely different and set apart in the emotional and spiritual realms. I am not sure it could be me or my imagination, however my observation thus far here in Phuket is that the other Caucasians I meet flat out are not of the friendly sort. I am not used to this, definitely different from my Venice experience. I have made it a game trying to force eye contact wherein I might be able the pass a smile but is not possible it seems they will do all they can to avoid connection of any kind, this is odd. Even as I sit in my adopted office a beautiful hotel lobby (I make it a point to be dressed well appropriate to my environment) populated primarily by foreigners I cannot create enough of an opening to even nod and say good morning. I can only speculate on the why of this. Maybe it is that I truly need to be alone here so I have myself unconsciously put up a wall or maybe it is my bald head it makes me look hard and much older. I am perplexed. Around town with the locals I am now well integrated. This is a very small town I take a walk along the same path twice a day once in the morning when I first wake up and then in the evening just around sunset. Yesterday an old man probably about my age stopped his motor scooter pulling up along side of me as I walked, he offered me a ride. I was on my exercise walk but how could I refuse he all but forced me on board, I jumped on behind him and into town we went. The girls at the bars and the massage parlors have given up on me they no longer call out to me as I pass by. They do say hello and smile. Even the tailors leave me alone they are as bad if not worse than the girls with their street solicitations, hello sir nice suit for you sir, where you going sir, you need nice shirt sir, where you from sir, where you stay, so on and so on. Now they greet me in a simple and friendly manner I may just stop one of these nights and have a chat just to be friendly I do not need a new suit and if you have seen my closet you know a shirt is the last thing I need. I am known in less than a week well enough to be settled and recognized not as a quick catch for the tourist trap, this suits me very well.
I am still trying to understand the other people those that at least from the outside look like me. There are many business men here I assume making land deals. The woman who lives next door to me came over one night for a welcome chat she and Rhonda have been friends for many years, she has been in Phuket for 6. I asked her about this and she seemed unaware of the dynamic, maybe women are treated different. Well we all know women are treated different (sorry ladies but it is true.) She said that the business men are all very busy and focused, and therefore distant, I don’t buy this one. Not everyone is a businessman and regardless I am a business man I may not be here on business but other than now my life has been consumed with business and I have done a fair amount of traveling for business, New York, Chicago, LA, Europe, San Francisco, Las Vegas I have never found that the environment was unfriendly actually quite the opposite. Most business people I come across are happy to engage as there is always an opportunity waiting around some corner or a contact to be made or a lesson to be learned. I you want to meet new people hang out at the bar at the Waldorf Astoria in the mid week I assure you, you will not sit at the bar for long before someone greets you and asks what your business is, that’s how we do business, at least that’s my experience. Could be that in the east every is so different that this too is upside down. With all the building going on around here I assume that many of the business men are making land and or building deals, are they the exploiters who are raking in the big cash and do they look at outsiders as competition, or do they carry some level of guilt or are they just focused? Most of the English I here comes with an Australian accent, I have never been to Australia but I have heard the Aussies are super friendly, here they are not. My landlord approached me the other day as I sat working on my front porch and asked me how I was doing. His English is very limited, but we manage to communicate. I told him I was fine. He asked me “you go to Patong?” I told him that I went there my first day for lunch and have not been back since. He said “No Girl” I said “No Girl” he said “Why you no want Girl” I said “ No girl” he said “you like lady boy” I said “no, no lady boys.” He looked at me confused and said again “ why you not go to Patong for girls” I said “ I came to Phuket to relax write and play guitar not for girls. He laughed shook his head and walked away. This little interaction gave me a new insight. Perhaps most of the men who come here are here to exploit or at least take advantage of the cheap sex, or the cheap labor or the cheap goods. I then had this vision that I am surrounded by carpet baggers and sailors pulling into port for a good time. It is off season and I imagine the vibe could be different on season. I do know that this is a favorite wintering place for the gondoliers of Venice, friendly enough in Venice I wonder if they are friendly when they are here? Anyhow I can see how at first glance I would appear to be anyone of the above. This is not a place I chose to walk. So that would mean the regular people would be looking at me and saying there goes another one and the dudes in the above categories are just as they are. I could be wrong I am just speculating and remember that cultural and social dynamics are one of my favorite interest. My truth remains the other foreigners here at least the ones I have come across simply are not friendly. I am completely OK with this I love the locals, and as they continue to warm to me I love them even more. I have found a little store where I buy my water and treats. It is really a big garage filled with a weird variety of stuff and a cooler. The prices are half of what they are in any store in the town proper and the woman who works there is as delightful as can be. She is a Muslim and she sits there all day with a couple of friends and sells her goodies. Every time I go in to her store she gives me language lessons. I call her Mama and we always laugh together. This is where I want to be walking in the rain laughing with the locals and watching the boys play soccer. Next I want to find a Buddhist temple where I can pray and further immerse myself into the culture and the community of these very beautiful people. I get enough foreigners at home. Maybe many are here as I for the solitude. And then I remember; that who am I to judge. I feel that I have no judgments just observations. But in my life I carry my share of guilt, what have I exploited what secrets do I hold. Running away from home at 15 I have been places I thank god my children never had to visit and I have done things that to this day I search my soul for forgiveness. So maybe I was drawn here as a mirror another opportunity to look deep into my own psyche still having some clearing to do. I am but a mirror of thyself. The mirror is my doorway opening to my path of healing.

Happy Again

2007-09-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

Ya’ll get in here ur’re gonna catch your death a cold or worse ya gonna get hit by lite’en. Now you git ur’re skinny lil buts inside and I mean, I mean now for I come out and git ya’ll. I can still here my mama calling out to us from my aunt Liz’s porch in Alexandria Louisiana we would visit there in the summer time when I was a young boy my mama growing up in Crowley an all; her sisters all settling points nearby. My aunt Liz’s was my favorite as my cousin Tommy was almost my same age and Peter and Johnny one year older and one year younger from Bay City Texas would almost always tag along, the four of us makin quite a team. We would never pay heed to her calls acting like we didn’t hear her at all cause when the rain would come on them hot summer Louisiana nights when the air was so hot and thick you could hardly breath the only relief other that that oscillating fan that would hum us to sleep along with the crickets and the frogs was when the rain came. And come it would down in buckets as mama would say rainin cats and dogs. We would strip off our clothes and of we’d go running and skippin paying hide and seek, tag and just running and sliding on the grass like a super slide. The rain coolin our hot skin, just slightly cooler than the air, it would sting for just a little while til you gits used to it then it was like swimming in air. We would squeal and laugh chasin each other for no reason at all. Just to be defying nature an Mama and to be playin in the rain.
As I sit here in Phuket the rain has been threatening all day clouds lightly dotting the sky the moisture so thick you can feel it like a light sprinkle but no rain. I am sitting on the porch and scratching out a tune or two on Rhonda’s Guitar when in a flash the clouds come like a herd over the ridge just behind me. I see them coming and I know without question that this is just like Dylan says “ A Hard Rain Is Gonna Fall.” Sure enough sooner than I can get inside and put away the guitar, the clouds give away to a Thailand downpour. Mama it don’t rain cats and dogs here it rains lions and tigers big un’s. I strip out of my clothes and put on a pair of swimming trunks and run outside leaving my flip flops behind I cannot not wait to feel that South East Asian Rain on my body. It’s different than Louisiana the Louisiana rain was always slightly cooler than the air you could feel every drop as it stung your body, here the rain is the same temperature as the air if not warmer the only stinging I feel is the sweat running off my forehead into my eyes. I go walking through the neighborhood in seconds I am one with the atmosphere my body is not wet it is immersed this is serious rain the visibility is next to zero if for no other reason than I cannot open my eyes to see without them being filled with the rain. No playmates to romp with and no grass to slide on I just walk. The neighbors are all sitting inside or on their covered front yards some are caught in the rain as they rush home on their motor scooters some walking with umbrellas.
Cars driving by splashing even more water upon me, but I don’t care. My neighbors all waving at me the children yelling out to me. I am beginning to be recognized and I think accepted I think they think I am just a little crazy walking in my shorts with bare feet in the pouring rain but I think they see the fun in it and they share in my delight. I am filled with every romantic notion and memory I have of surrendering to nature in a flash flood of a rain storm. Me and my cousins, South Florida Midnight swims, Venice as we ran huddled together looking for cover three to an umbrella our clothes entirely soaked to the skin, and Gene Kelly swinging on a lamp post singing in the rain. Then I hear my friend the neighborhood cantor as he sings singing out to God, my heart sings along, “I’m singing in the rain just singing in the rain what a glorious feeling I’m Hap, Hap, Happy again.” Let’s just hope I don’t catch my death or git hit by lite’en. I think I’ll pass swimming in the ocean this time the lighting is intense and I just might have run out my lite’en luck Swimming in the South Florida Rains. For now it does not get any better than this, and it does not need to. Cept for that oscillating fan that is waiting for me back at the Bungalow.

What Am I doing to Change The World

2007-09-24T19:56:00.000-07:00

With all this awareness of the haves and the have nots. I have been giving so much thought to “what am I doing to change the world, to feed the planet, teach the children, house the homeless and so on and so forth. I think of two people I know and their children. I will not mention their names to protect their privacy I will refer to them a JR and CO.. The family, are acquaintances of mine dear friends of a dear friend. I do not know them well enough to be called friend however they are the type of people that in time with more contact and understanding I would be most honored to be called their friend. Anyhow the story is this (this is all second hand so if I get anything wrong please forgive me I am confidant that the core of the story is true and close enough to accurate and should be heard); Years ago the entire family Parents and three children two girls and a boy each adopted a child in an orphanage in a far away land somewhere in Africa. We all know of this sort of opportunity; send 10$’s 20$’s or so to a child once a month and they send you a picture of themselves along with a thank you note and they update you from time to time of their progress. Well as I said this went on for years. Then one day J and daughters take a trip to the orphanage to volunteer their time doing whatever is needed or asked of them. I believe this was a three week trip. They were very happy to see that all of these years their money had been well spent and in fact the people who were taking care of these displaced children were doing a great job regardless of the very limited resources they had to support them and their efforts. At some point J goes to the director of the facility and asks if what else they could do to help. I am not completely clear on how it went from here but the outcome of that conversation was that JR and Co. would build another orphanage along side the existing one. Now I know that many of us are skeptics and our minds are reeling with particle issues. Things like OK so now you have a building now what who is going to provide tools, JR and CO. Furniture, JR and CO. the list goes on and on. JR and CO. are very practical and successful people they know how to get things done. They saw a need it touched their heart and they acted. They did so without fanfare, or press releases. They did so without trying to raise capitol from their community and they did so without asking for any tax breaks. They just did it because it needed to be done they had the cash the resources and the heart to do it. This has all transpired over just the past three years as far as I know the Orphanage is complete and operational. I have heard through the grapevine the JR and CO have even gone so far as to formally adopt two or three of these children and move them to the states to raise as their own. The number is not important I suspect that by the time they are done they will adopt the whole damm village. But seriously this is not something to poke fun at and I do not mean to do so. The truth is they are the sort of people that just might their hearts are big enough.
So JR and company I publicly salute you and thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing what I am unable and for inspiring me to do what I can, because of you the world is a better place.
So I ask myself what am I doing to change the world?

Survival Techniques

2007-09-24T01:16:00.000-07:00

I love the sound of the tropics. The crickets, the birds, birds of all kinds, and the frogs. The frogs come in all shapes and sizes, there was a toad the size of my hand sitting at the entrance of a store, he was very happy to be just sitting there people were having to step over him to enter he was not bothered in the least. A little girl began to prod him with a stick and still he would not move finally he leapt and I mean leapt out of the way. His leap was a good 4 feet as he took flight his body stretched to no less that 18 inches, this was one big ass frog. I have seen many snakes most look harmless enough, big but harmless, no cobra’s yet. The carcasses of frogs and snakes are all over the road. Yesterday I came upon a medium sized snake in the process of crossing the road, I took two sticks and then picked him up to help him back into the bush. I am not sure which side of the road he wanted to go I took a guess based on the direction he was facing. He did not seem too happy that I decided to help him, he began to crawl up my sticks and was trying to get at me I twisted the sticks and he became wrapped around them as he reared back he looked as if he was going to strike at me, his mouth wide open his fangs clearly visible, I have no idea what sort of snake he was if he was poisonous or not but to me fangs mean bite and that means hurt poisonous or not. Not having any experience with snake handling I took no chances and I then threw him sticks and all in to the bush. Better he be a little pissed off than end up flattened by a passing car and better I stay alive than end up the dead or a wounded good Samaritan, or at least the bitten, Samaritan. The man who sings in the evening is definitely related to the sunset. He begins at 6:30 and continues into the evening I am not sure how long he chants and sings but it is for a considerable period I have heard him singing at 10:00. His voice is astoundingly beautiful. He sings with a clarity that is rare and enviable and at a volume that is hard to describe just know it fills the entire valley. He has a magnificent voice, rich, and with a soft velvety tone, I can imagine that he could sing anything you put in front of him, but he is not singing he is communing with God, this is one of the biggest treats of here for me I can listen to him for hours. This month is the Muslim time of fasting. I am in an area that is predominantly Muslim, they cannot eat past 6:30 am they then fast the entire day until 6:30 pm they cannot even drink water. At 2:pm they begin to cook. In places for long stretches, the roadside is lined with little motor scooter carts cooking everything one can imagine. Chicken is a prime item on the menu as is shrimp and squid. There are large vacant lots that fill up at 2:pm with food vendors of all kinds. The best part is that they all are cooking their wares. So one can wander through the food fair have your dinner one booth at a time and shop to take home something for later. Last night I toured a few of these food fairs ate more than I needed and took home enough food for two days I spent 2.00$’s. I had rice, squid, shrimps and chicken. Not all at the same time but over the course of about 2 hours. So much for my mango fast. I will do the mango fast but not today.
The shrimp was the best. I do like squid and this squid was practically wonderful tender and flavorful most everything comes cooked on a stick. But the shrimp was unique; this particular dish was prepared by placing the shrimps onto a piece of seaweed 4 or 5 to apiece battered and then lightly fried together. The shrimp stick to the seaweed and therefore served together, a sort of shrimp platter, it was a bit spicy but delicious, I will have this dish many times I suspect before I leave. I have found the ticket to breaking a cultural barrier. I am a bit of an oddity and I feel that when I enter or approach any of the natives they are apprehensive, I have taken to bowing to them with palms at my heart center, they immediately warm up. I apologize that I do not speak Thai and all the while I smile almost comically. This warms them and produces smiles all around whether or not the understand my words they understand my actions and they become very helpful and the experience of interaction is completely different than if I simply approach and try to communicate. I have even had booth keepers suggesting different dishes to me. They point, they pick up dishes and present them to me, and of course I accept. This is why I ended up eating more than my share while I was grazing yesterday.
I came upon some very large construction sights on my afternoon tour. There is a considerable amount of building going on here. Many high end and very luxurious. The prices are not cheap they compare with western prices less but comparable. A beautiful three bedroom Condo with a private pool and a view of the ocean will cost you 500,000 to 2,000,000 dollars and up. Everything is built of concrete and steel. They use stone everywhere, floors, walls, and stairs and the building facades are often stone. The theme is outside most of the dwellings have a central area that all of the rooms open too some with no walls at all only big sliding glass doors, that can be closed during the hottest of months so you can retreat into the comfort of the air conditioning. One of the construction sites I came upon was particularly large built on a hillside of rock it was really a cliff. The building site was somewhat remote. The most interesting piece of this to me is that right across the road from the building site was a very large shantytown. This is where the workers live. I have the idea that one day one the builders pulled up with trucks full of corrugated steel and dropped it off and let the workers build their temporary camp where they will live until the completion of the project. It is not a pretty sight it looks like the worse of slums. But the people all look happy as I was wandering around everyone I ran into was full of smiles and greetings. There were lots of well-kept dogs running around, as were children of all ages. The shantytown was clean and even though I have no idea how they manage the hygiene issues it appeared that the space was clean there was no foul odors or garbage.
The Thai people are very clean, at this very moment as I sit writing on my front porch there is a woman sweeping my front lawn! They do not have a strong body odor and their clothes are always clean. The construction site was crawling with workers they all appeared to be going about their business in a very relaxed manner, they work slow but there are lots of them so the job moves forward at an acceptable rate. There were women working along side the men and children wandering around everywhere. They seem oblivious to any safety standards that I am used too. They work in bare feet or at best sandals and certainly no hardhats. There were woman and children sweeping the roadside in front of the site with hand brooms the place was spotless. I cannot say that about any the construction sites I have worked on. In fact the mood and the production level and the cleanliness is unlike anything I have ever witness in all my years of working on similar sites. It makes me wonder; certainly I am losing some of my judgment of the exploitation of the workers perception very quickly. There is a traditional way of doing things everywhere and here is no different. As long as the people are happy and fulfilled then who can argue the right or wrong of it. I do wonder about the economics however. Either the land costs are exorbitant or there are a lot of people making huge profits with these developments. I visited a rock yard, a lumberyard and a nursery. Slate goes at the retail level for 15.00$’s a square meter, and sandstone blocks 18” x 24” the same. Tress and plants are equally inexpensive the most expensive tree I found was 30 dollars, a 12’ tall palm with a huge and very beautiful bulb for its base, the equivalent in the states would cost 250.00$’s minimum. Jasmine trees and I mean trees 7 feet tall were priced at 20.00$’s. One could plant a topical paradise for a couple of thousand dollars. The lumber was equally inexpensive, Teak and a vast array of exotic woods all pennies to the dollar of what we spend in the US. I even went to a fixture store, to see if this was where the cost lies. Even here the prices were less than in the states. You can find all the modern fixtures here that we have in the US and the prices are 30% less. So if labor is a fraction of the cost of the west and the materials the same then the land must be where the major investment lies. If this is not the case the as I said there are some big cats making big bucks capitalizing on these conditions.
Could it be done any different? I do not know if they were to pay the workers more how would that affect the culture and the economy. Does money have the same value here to the common man as it does in the west I do not know? As long as people are happy and fulfilled who can argue. I do know that the Thai economy is suffering; it is in an up swing but is suffering nonetheless. Income taxes are low and I was told there is no annual property tax once you buy property it is yours, period, I will research this one further. So my first impression of the state of the lifestyles in Thailand is positive. There is abundant food and there seems to be work. I think of the shantytown in Bangkok with the population of 500,000 and I recognize this a contradiction to what I see here in Phuket and I also recognize that I have not traveled anywhere else in Thailand so my observations are not completely valid.
Who really knows the whole story of this very complicated issue. I certainly do not I can only share my limited view to this point. I look forward to learning and understanding more. I did have the idea to go to speak with a builder just around the corner from where I live. They are building three houses at the same time the project is still at the foundation level. My idea was to ask if I could join the crew as a volunteer. It would be fun for me, and it would give me a way to become closer to the people. I decided against this the reason is that if the developer was to take me up with my offer I was afraid that he might send someone else home I do not want someone to lose a job just so I can play around. Oh well it was a fun idea, just not practical. Besides it is not like I am bored or have nothing productive of my own to accomplish. Today I will go to the beach I discovered a very beautiful beach nearby, with white sand, cabana’s and women giving massages and surf, big surf I only need to find a surfboard. More later on that one. Christian are you listening I found the surf! Thinking of you girlfriend.

Too Hot Too Think

2007-09-22T23:33:00.000-07:00

It’s hot, too hot too think, too hot too play guitar, not, too hot too feel. I think of the opening scene in “Apocalypse Now” Martin Sheen, he is in a hotel, in Hanoi, Vietnam War, awaiting orders; he is in limbo I feel like I am that scene. Dramatic I know but this is my state of mind. I had made many different plans on how I would use my time here. I have multiple writing projects to finish, some to begin. I planned to play music, I brought a hard drive full of photos to edit and I have work to do for my business, and yet I cannot move, other than my body dancing inside at the scale of 8, (message to Luca) but I can feel.
There is nothing like being completely alone for an extended period of time to give you the space to go deep into your psyche. For me at this time and space it is unavoidable there is so much up for me now. The place is not important; the alone factor is the important element. It helps to be a stranger in a strange land. The mangos are fantastic; I think I will go on a fruit fast for some time. I have not had any alcohol or caffeine since I arrived and now I am smoking my last cigarette, I will not buy anymore. The caffeine withdrawals are still with me I have had a headache from the moment I arrived. I try not to worry about issues at home I can do nothing about; I look to my heart and try to focus. I ran into a friend of Rhonda’s today, I asked him some questions of places to eat and such, as we part he says have fun. Thank you Nikorn but I don’t think this part of my journey is about fun, it is about exploration, focus, ego, personal mastery and healing. It has been along time since I have had the time and space to do this work, I best get started. I need to break out of this funk, I am in a downward spiral I am stronger than this, I can move through this. I know I have done it before too many times I fear. First step I think is to take a 24-hour meditation. I know I cannot meditate in the thoughtless state for 24 hrs but I know I can lay still and move in and out of the meditative state. Meditation is not only about thoughtlessness it is also about cultivating the presence of God through contemplation, reflection, prayer; formal cogitation.
I open a large bottle of water and lie down to begin my journey. It is 4:pm it is just beginning to cool down. I feel the breeze of the fan; I listen to its gentle hum. My mind immediately goes into a whirlwind of thoughts I focus and bring myself to quiet, this works for a short period, and then off I go again, this time I am dreaming; I am dreaming of Uncle Bob. I think that I am in a vision state, is he speaking to me, has he come to visit; or is this just my creation and does it matter. We are in a place not unlike where I am now a bit more remote but similar. I am walking up the hill to a dwelling it is the jungle the earth is black the trees deep green and full of blossoms the voice of the jungle is loud as it calls out to itself; my legs give way I fall I cannot walk, I cannot move. I think I can crawl, or can I, will I, have I. I find myself magically in his space. The visit goes on for a very long time, long enough for me to remember and to make notes along the way to be sure I would not forget. He is dying there are family who have come to say good by. He does not speak to me I am an outsider; I feel that I am the ghost; they do not know I am there. This vision is full of little images of past and present to many to describe, I have begun my journey. My back hurts the motor scooter and all the typing is taking its toll on my body. The night is cool I am thankful the cool air refreshing me and supporting me on my journey. I sleep, this time without dreams I wake in complete darkness the sky is covered in clouds I can feel the moisture in the air I think it will rain soon. I am maybe at the half way point, 12 hours into my stillness I am being conscious not to change my position I do not want to sleep the whole time I want to loose thought and feeling and journey I attempt to lie still on my back the temptation to roll over and hug the pillow is strong I resist and fade back into meditation then I have to laugh as I do, I realize that you cannot meditate and congratulate yourself for doing so at the same time. Thoughtlessness is very difficult for me I rely on all the tools I have been taught over the years. I am breathing in light and out darkness, focus on breath, focus on breath, I drift into another dream state I know I am not sleeping I am aware of all that surrounds me the darkness, the heat, laying on my back, my breath, my heartbeat. I comeback into thinking “This is easy but it is dark and cool and only 12 hours, how will I feel when it is light out and hot in the midday sun at 20 hours.” I keep coming back to visions related to healing. Healing the planet, healing me, this becomes a recurring theme in my vision as I drift in and out of thoughtlessness sleep and vision state. The sun is beginning to rise I can see the light fill my room, feel the heat as it begins to radiate I can feel the humidity as the moisture in the atmosphere is heating up to the point of almost becoming steam. The clouds begin to cast a shadow coming between the hot sun and the earth. The minutes and hours merge together in a void of timelessness, thoughtlessness.
As I pen this, my big nap is behind me. I am happy to say I feel it worked, I feel much better my headache is gone and my heart is lighter I have busted loose from the funk! It was easy and really it was fun. I feel inspired and invigorated. I am now ready to start working. My spirit is cleaner and my heart is calm. Now I am wondering how to communicate my feelings and experiences in this blog without being uncomfortably transparent. This is a travel journey not a book and many of my experiences, feelings and issues are very personal. I have given you just a surface sample of the overall and as I move into “the land of introspection” the next part of this journey, I question how I can communicate in integrity and at the same time not get to deep into my personal issues. Already I find that I have ventured into experiences and feelings of a personal nature that are on the edge of uncomfortable for me. I do not want this blog to become about me but for it to focus on my journey and my observations of, and how, they can relate to you. I understand that in doing so I cannot avoid subjects of a personal nature. In fact it was this very issue that made me hesitant to commit to the blog in the first place. Up until now I have been able to be “Comfortably Personal” I fear that there will be times to come, that my edge will be challenged. To all of you who are following along, thank you, I am honored. Many of you are old friends and many new and some of you I have never met. Those of you who have connected with me and made me aware of your presence I think of you and I feel sometimes that I am writing directly too you as if I am writing you a letter. Some of you have said that this blog is giving you insight to how little you have known me and you are grateful to be able to get to know me better I understand this. Some of you have told me that you have been inspired by the blog to make changes in your life, some of you have found answers to your own personal questions. I am very happy for all of this and it is a piece of my inspiration in continuing. I would love to be able to understand many of my friends as deeply as I am exposing myself here. We simply do not do this in our culture. When was the last time you visited with a friend in any depth when there was no drama or gossip to drive you. I hope this blog inspires all of you to go a little deeper and show a little more of yourselves to those you love and those who love you. Mom, I appreciate that this is an opportunity for you and I to connect deeper than we other wise would have been able. I am grateful for this I hope you can see and hear me speaking to you. I love you.
During the big Nap this poem I wrote last year in Paris kept running through my mind I do not know what that was about maybe it “the Poem wants to be heard.” It is standing up to be counted, as with any creation, after it is created; it has a life of it’s own. Anyhow this is the first and I mean first poem I ever wrote I have only written one since.
Hope you like it.
I almost forgot; you must pronounce Paris like a Parisian, as it rhymes with me as in Parie.

If I moved to Paris
Would you have lunch with me
On the Champs Élysées
In grand Paris
I could toast your smile
Your eyes would tell
If there was a place for me
In Grand Paris
If I held your hand
On the river Seine
Could I ask of you
To be in light with me
Despite the rain
To hold you close
By the river Seine
Would be the beginning of an end
Of a life of pain
Of not having lunch with you
In Grand Paris
Or without your hand in mine
By the river Seine.

The Sign Says Do Not Enter

2007-09-20T21:12:00.000-07:00

There are going to be some posts that are a bit out of sync with time, as am I.
This is night one Kamala Beach, Phuke, Thailand.
As I sit typing away on the porch of my bungalow the sun is beginning to set and I am taken back by the sound of a single male voice. Beautiful loud and powerful he chants and sings. I have no idea if his singing is related to the sunset but just this second he is joined by the crickets they have begun their concert, the volume is astounding. I am on the outskirts of a small village and the jungle is still a big part of the landscape. This being my first day and now my first night I am becoming aware little by little what this means. First of all if you do not like to sleep to the sound of crickets you could have a problem here. After I settled into the Bungalow played a little guitar I tried to take a nap I am exhausted. No sooner than I lay down does the electricity go out. This means the fan stops, I cannot use my computer as I have no idea when they electricity will return and my battery is low. It is too hot to read and to hot to write and I have a major headache. I decide to take a ride into town on the Rhonda’s motor scooter, I may be exhausted but I am also very hungry. I travel down the highway to Patong. This is one of the biggest resorts on the island and famous to me, anyway, for the party scene. Lots of music, go-go bars, and massage parlors; both traditional and the ones that are really covers for prostitution. No one keeps this a secret, prostitution is technically illegal here but apparently not only is it accepted but supported. As you walk down the street passing the go-go bars and the massage parlors the girls solicit their wares. Calling out to you all sorts of suggestions and ideas for a good time; I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination. No judgment from me but this is not my thing 1st I do not like to be accosted on the street and second it’s not my thing. In Thailand this apart of the culture, these girls are not just here for the tourist but also the Thai men. Many of them visit the parlors on a regular basis and even keep the same girl as their #1 concubine for years. When I was in Bangkok I was taken to two massage parlors one for the middle class and one was the top club in Bangkok. These clubs are not cheap and the business is very professional. I was curious and wanted to see first hand the famous Bangkok massage business. All I can say is it was very odd, but yet very civilized. These are the places the Thai men go. My escort was a Thai man so I take his word on the subject as valid. The Girls sit in an area that is set up like bleachers. They are fully clothed and they just sit and talk among themselves and watch TV occasionally making eye contact with a little flirt. The men are in a bar where they sit drink and scope out the women. They either have a drink and then leave as we did or they pick a girl, they then tell the attendant of their choice and off they go for the two hour tour. My friend told me that is very common and a very accepted part of the Thai culture. He admitted to have a relationship of his own for over six years with the same girl. I asked him if he loved her, he looked at me funny and replied no not at all, not like a girlfriend but as a friend. I asked him if they kissed and he told me that Thai people do not kiss that kissing is not apart of their culture, but that the girls will do anything you want because once you close that door you are the boss. I have always felt that all vices should be legal. If it is not hurting any one other than the person that is making the choices, than why create more troubles with judgement and punishment. I will tell you that I did see some men going on the two hour tour that where down right un-mateable. These girls give them a place to go, where, even if for just two hours they feel love, and feel good about themselves. Even if the girls are acting it works and the men go home with a “Happy Ending.” Now I am in the party capitol of Thailand, Patong. It is all I expected it to be and a little more. I am here as I said I am hungry and I know that there will be plenty of restaurants that cater to the tourist and that I would not get any surprises regarding my meal; anyway I also get to see the famous Patong. I pick a restaurant on the beach, as I expected the menu was in multiple languages Thai, English, Italian and German every thing from pizza to hamburgers as well as Thai. I order Thai food I am in Thailand after all. My meal was very marginal and very expensive by Thai standards. I decide then and there that will never walk into a restaurant while I am here that has any English on the sign; if there is English on the sign it says “Do Not Enter.” I eat wander around and go for a swim then home to bed. Hopefully the electricity is on now. It is now day two. The “Do Not Enter” sign idea, made for an amusing experience when I went for lunch. I asked the boy at the Internet spot for a recommendation of a restaurant he suggested a few but all were for tourist I explained to him again that I wanted to go to a Thai restaurant that the locals liked, he finally understood, and made a suggestion. Once I arrived not only was there no Thai on the sign but also no one in the restaurant spoke English there was no menu just a board with the choices. Of course I have no idea what to order, however I take a seat and a woman approaches me she speaks to me, not knowing how to reply, I just rub my belly. She looks at me strange and walks away. She is friendly but confused as how to deal with me. After a few minutes I see some food coming from the kitchen that looked great. I motion to the woman she comes over I point to the food and again rub my belly, this time she really smiles a big smile and walks away in a few minutes the food arrived just as I ordered, it was fantastic! When I go to pay my bill I ask how much using the universal language of rubbing my fingers together, she replies in Thai and I do not understand a man sitting nearby told me 50 Baht. The woman said something to him with a bit of an edge and the man shakes his head and says no, no. I think that the woman was trying to charge me more than the local charge but the man in his innocence was just trying to help. I was charged the regular price thanks to him, 75 cents, for a great lunch; now I feel like I am getting settled. I know where to eat and how, I know where to buy fresh fruit and water and I know where the locals play soccer every night. So I have food water and entertainment.
I am a happy camper; sunburned but happy. I applied what I thought a sufficient dose of sunscreen to my lily white head, I am sure this saved me from disaster, but I ended up with a pink head from lily white to pink. The one thing that keeps coming up for me is that regardless of cultural differences people are the same everywhere. When I was standing at the counter of a mini market buying time for my phone a little boy of maybe 5 began to pull at my shirt. I turn to him he begins speaking to me as he is pulling on his own shirt really a smock. I have no idea what he is saying but I engage with him with smiles and love, his Mom says “he go to school.” I get it that this is his first day and he is proud and excited and wants to show off his uniform to every one he meets; people are the same everywhere.

Kamala Home Sweet Home

2007-09-20T21:06:00.000-07:00

As the plane is making the finial approach to land on Phuket the turbulence if frightening, I am not concerned. I know from experience that when an airplane comes into a very hot area that the updraft from the atmosphere causes, creates a wall the plane must pass through. This happens whenever I fly into Vegas, Miami, and Palm Springs. But remember that less that a week ago this very runway was the scene of a fatal crash killing all on board. The passengers on my flight are fearful. The woman across the aisle is silently praying the man next to me is busy comforting his companion and the stewardess sitting facing me is biting her lip. She sees me notice her in her fear and quickly catches herself and smiles. The plane lands we are safe all on board begin to clap and cheer. As we dock and begin to unload everyone is laughing and excited. This is a vacation spot and a dream destination for most on board. I think back to my Vegas flights. If you have every flown into Vegas then maybe you can relate. The arriving flight is always full of joyful energy for the same reason the Phuket flight is, everyone is excited to get on with their vacation. The difference in the Vegas flights is the return; people on return Vegas flights are not all in particularly good moods, no need to wonder why. I am not happy, I am excited, but I have a splitting headache. I am hungry and a little nervous for the experience that waits. The sun is hot here much hotter than Bangkok. I can feel it burning my skin. I wonder what the GI’s in Vietnam used for sunscreen; I wonder what was the war budget for sunscreen. I jump into a taxi, the driver does not speak any English, I tell him Kamala Beach, Fantasea, as this is what I was instructed to do. He looks at me as if I am crazy and laughs. Not a chuckle but a full on laugh, I soon find out why, I am an American casually dressed but I see later that I am dressed very nice, I have 4 bags. When we arrive at Fantasea his amusement is instantly clear. This is an amusement park however it is deserted. There are no cars in the lot and no people in sight and it is hot very hot. The driver is pulling into the parking lot moving very slowly a snails pace. He does not know what to do. I tell him to stop of course he figures it out at some point and pulls over, I get out of the taxi and pay the agreed price and he drives away. I am left standing in an abandon parking lot with 4 bags and a policeman or security guard who appeared as I was exiting the taxi. There is an area with some benches and shade. I set up camp there and call the man who has been pre-arranged to pick me up at Fantasea upon my arrival; he does not answer the phone. I try again after a very short time and we connect. His English is good but he is difficult to understand over a cell connection and a thick accent. He tells me that he will not be picking me up but that he will send someone else. I am relaxed hot but relaxed. One thing about committed action is it gives me a sense of calm, nothing can happen except what will and I am ready. In 5 min a young man pulls up on a motor scooter stops and greets me by name, he sees my 4 bags and has no idea how we are going to manage. He suggests that we take four separate trips as we can only manage one bag at a time on the motor scooter, if that. Of course this is not an option. How can I leave 1st three then 2 then 1 of my bags in an empty parking lot? Without any alternate solution I step back and look at him, the policeman/security guard, and turn around to survey the scene. I notice that the Taxi Driver did not leave, he is waiting at the entrance of the parking lot approximately 200 yards away. The driver is smart or curios or both, either way he is waiting to see what going to happen with me. I raise my arm he drives over and we reload my bags into his taxi and we follow Sanon my pick-up to my new home for 5 weeks. The bungalow that Rhonda has provided me is perfect; it also comes with the use of her motor scooter! I open the windows as I do a small lizard scurries across the windowsill, I am in the tropics, no doubt. It is nice to be in her space, pictures of her and her loved ones, books, CD’s a boom box and a TV. Rhonda is a beautiful spirit. I do not know her well but we have always had a connection. I feel her spirit and I feel right at home. She has a guitar. So this is the first order of business, I pull it out of the case tune up and sit to play. I am happy I thought to bring along a set of strings, but for now I just play.

Commited Action

2007-09-20T01:01:00.000-07:00

I decided when I first found out that I was to come to Thailand that the theme of this part of my journey would be ego. To support this I decided I would shave my head. I woke up this morning my first in Kamala and I began to question my commitment. I then remembered one of my own favorite sayings. “ The most powerful thing one can do is to make a commitment to oneself and keep it; the most disempowering thing one can do is to make a commitment to oneself and break it.” The sun was just rising the roosters singing their morning songs I jumped out of bed grabbed a pair of scissors from Rhonda’s desk went outside and began to chop at my hair. Talk about committed action once you take one big chunk out of your hair there is no turning back I smiled inside as I realized what I had begun. After cutting my hair as short as I could with the scissors I went inside and began the shaving process. I you have never done this you have no idea how much of a process this is. I only have a face razor and I quickly become aware of how inefficient a tool it is for shaving your head, however I am committed. I get to the point that I am bald with a few patches to go, my razor is getting dull and I end up cutting my ear. I decide to take a break and go to the beach for a swim. It is an hour past sunrise the world around me still sleeping but slowly waking at the same time. With blood dripping down my neck I walk the 15 minute walk to the beach strip my clothes off ignoring the not safe to swim signs and I dive into the ocean. The salt water stings my cut at first but then it stops the water is so warm that in moments I feel as if I am in a warm bath. I remember that someone told me once that the planet earth has the same percentage of water on it that the human body possesses, and that the salt composition of the two are the same. I do not know if this is true I never bothered to do any research, but it being a romantic notion I chose to simply believe. As I swim in the warm ocean with my baldhead I began to feel as if I was bathing in the life of the planet, bathing in the womb of Gaia. I realized that as wonderful and powerful this was for me that the current was taking me further from the beach. There is a reason they put up the sign. I decide that I better end this part of the experience and swim back in before I end up past the point of no return. The current is very strong and I am not a practiced swimmer I need to stop and rest. I lay on my back and as I float I do a frog kick, as I did not want to loose any ground or sea in this case. I am sure it helped but nonetheless I was still carried a bit further out to sea. At this point I realize that there is no stopping this time no turning back I basically begin swimming for my life. Making it to shore I am exhausted I am panting and I fall into the sand. I began to laugh at myself the degree I will go to feel to heal or to just feel. On the way back I stop at the local 7-11 store that is just opening and I by a couple of razors; if you could only have seen the look on the girls faces. I thought I was further along in the process, I thought they were amused by the sheer whiteness of my now bald head, I am sure they were but after I returned home and began again I realized how much I still had to go basically I had huge spots that were undone. I am sure I was a very funny sight at 7 in the morning in Thailand dripping wet buying razors with a partially shaven head. I am now finished I am as bald as the day I was born probably more so. A terrible sight my head is so white and I am sure that I look ten years older then I remember this is about ego right?
It is also about committed action.
It is also about remembering to apply sunscreen to my lilly white head!

Banned From Bangkok

2007-09-20T00:57:00.000-07:00

Debbie, Jessie, Monica, Jenny and Shannon; I hear-by decree that none of you shall ever enter Bangkok. Not that I have anything to say about it but it is for your own good. This city is a merchandizing nightmare. I ventured out on my own into the city today, jumping onto the Sky Train; I explored the city from three stories up. It was suggested to me by a couple at breakfast sitting one table away from me. They have been here numerous times and told me that it was must do to Sky Train to the Central Mall. I did but quickly became overwhelmed. The only way I can think to describe my impression is to evoke
an idea of a Persian Bazaar of old, married with the movie Blade Runner. There are shops of all kinds jammed together in a vast space 6 stories high encompassing two city blocks. Some of the stores are as small as 6x6 and one filled half of an entire floor this, was the Ikea/Target store. The rest varied from clothing, electronics… no I cannot do it; it would take a thousand words to name all of the different offerings in this space. I will tell you of just one corner; there was a metal artist who built bizarre futuristic sculptures in the liking of Terminator or the beast in Alien and all of them larger than life, some priced at 40,000.00 $’s. This was next door to a jewelry store, next door to a clothing store next door to a electronic shop, next door to a toy store, I turn the corner and I walk into a huge food market again with individual kiosks, with unlimited offerings there is even a Dunken Donuts. This food market is no different than any fantasy I have ever had of an Asian food market the only difference is this one is in side this huge mall and has a Dunken Donuts!
From what I saw today I think this entire city is a mall and what is not a mall is filled with street vendors and food carts. You name it and it is for sale here. Cheap stuff, expensive stuff, stuff, stuff and more stuff. Overwhelmed I decide to explore further but it did not change, everywhere I went there was more stuff for sale. And as Thailand is most famous for textiles the best deals were in the clothing stores. I am sorry girls but Bangkok is a merchandizing black hole that would swallow you up and I fear I would never see you again. First of all it would take you Shannon one week just to get through the first floor of Central Mall. It’s no secret that you are the deal queen methodically working the racks, looking for that special gem. Jenny and Jessie you would go straight to Fendi and Louis V, Debbie you would be bouncing around like a pinball and Monica you would be laughing your ass off moving between the crews. There is a mall next door to Central that was again bigger than any I have every seen but this one was the exclusive mall every high end store that exists was present in the once again six story space, and did I mention the jewelry! And watches I have never seen so many watch stores in my life much less in the same place at the same time, watches I have never heard of. This is a strange city, as I was walking through this maze I began to wonder who buys all this stuff then I began to notice that all the stores were busy. For a city that has the reputation of extreme rich and extreme poor there sure was a huge herd of people buying everything in sight! As I have already mentioned the best deals are textile related and or hand made. The only thing cheaper in Bangkok than clothes is people. This is a city where sex can cost less than a Martini. I have seen this before but it has been a long time and I had forgotten how sad and confusing this is for me. Standing on the train landing outside of the fancy mall I look down and see that right next door to the mall is a huge shantytown. Most of the dwellings made of corrugated aluminum some as simple as lean-to’s. It appeared that the kitchens are communal as are any facilities they may have or not. These are people who will never walk into the mall next door and most likely never think about the possibility.
I have always been confused by this extreme separation of those who have choices and those who do not those who are safe and those who are not. While passing one of these Shantytowns I asked ET my guide if this was common in Bangkok. He told me that there is one that is home to 500,000 people. He said this is a very dangerous place drugs, prostitution, mostly controlled by gangs, I trust him on this one.
I flash back again too 1962 visiting Manila. My Dad’s brother was one of the riches men in the Philippines Uncle Bob. For forty years his wealth extended to Hong Kong, Bangkok and beyond. We were there for Christmas Uncle Bob gave me a very nice watch. We were taking a tour of some of his business’s the main stop was to be his number one TV station, channel seven. He loved his TV station. Even though he was into big time business he always stayed committed to his Lucky Seven Children’s show; he was the Captain Kangaroo of the Philippines his stage name was Uncle Bob. Everyone in the Philippines knew him as Uncle Bob even his business relations called him this it became his name. As we were traveling on this tour I remember sitting in the back of the limousine with my Dad, Uncle Bob and my cousin Leslie. We were going through one of the poorest sections of Manila. At that time you could not go from any point to another and avoid this. At one point a crowd of people gathered around the car the driver could not move forward as he might hurt someone. They were putting their faces and hands on the windows of the car to see who was inside. My Dad and Uncle Bob and my cousin Leslie were totally unaffected by this I however was. As I sat and watched Bob and my dad sit drinking there scotch and smoking their cigarettes people who were the furthest extreme from this reality were smashing their faces against the window of the car they just kept on talking. The driver rolled down his window and tossed a cigarette outside, the crowd rushed after it and a fight broke out over the smoke this broke up the crowd enough to allow us to drive away. As we were; I noticed a little boy squatting to defecate.
I was so confuse by this that I carried the memory with me and I was torn. How could my Dad and Uncle Bob both my hero’s up to this point just sit there and not be affected. I asked myself why does the rest of the world let people live this way. I understand better now but at that time I was young and very impressionable. No one took the time to explain it to me and I from that point forward carried a negative judgment of not only of the two of them but of capitalists in general. I made some of my life choices as a result of this and I wonder if there would have been a different outcome in my life had I not carried this wound with me for so many years.
Truth is Uncle Bob was a hero to the people of the Philippines not all of course but he did have a very positive impact on the economics and the culture of the Philippines. He gave back in many ways. After Uncle Bob died a few years back while visiting Las Vegas a few months after his death I took it upon myself to speak to the people I came upon working there who were Filipino. There is a huge population of Filipino people working in the Casinos in Las Vegas. I first confirmed that they were Filipino and then I introduced myself as Uncle Bob’s nephew (I was his only real nephew.) They all remembered him as most of the people I spoke with were close to my age and therefore grew up with the Lucky Seven Club. One woman told me that I should be very proud to be the nephew of Uncle Bob, she went on to say that Uncle Bob was very good to the Philippines he was a hero to the people. When they buried Uncle Bob the government sent an armed guard and they gave him a 21 gun salute and presented the family with an award of some sort. So in the end they gave him a hero’s burial. I wish I would have known Uncle Bob better and I am sorry that I judged him without understanding. There are many people in the world who are doing great work in supporting the growth of the world they should all be honored and I only wish there was more we could do. There is so much to do, and then I ask myself “What am I doing to feed the poor?”
Or more simply "To Ghange the World"

The Oriental Bangkok

2007-09-18T10:09:00.000-07:00

If you ever want to have the experience of feeling as a King or a Queen I recommend highly the Oriental Bangkok. In my life I have had extensive hotel experience. As a child my family traveled a great deal and my father was never one to go second-class. We even lived in a hotel one time in Rome. As an adult I have continued to travel a fair amount and have been privileged to stay in some of the best hotels in the world. Some of these hotels are fancy and some old world elegant and some resort chic. I was once upgraded to a 2,000 square foot suite in the Bellagio hotel Las Vegas for eight nights, over the top luxury. My point in the background rundown is to qualify my evaluation of my experience here at the Oriental Bangkok; this hotel has all the others beat, hands down.
I chose the Oriental because thus far into my healing journey my sabbatical I have been fortunate to be 50% under budget so I decided to go for the best in Bangkok. The hotel was recommended to me by a friend who travels here frequently and I am very happy to have made the call asking for the recommendation.
After 37 hours of travel and no sleep the night before I was very happy to have made the choice. I was met at the airport by a very charming, handsome Thai man in an equally handsome suit. He was almost jumping for joy when I acknowledged him with my name on his card at the baggage claim. All smiles and bows he greets me and takes charge of my bags. From that point I knew I was in for a very special experience. He was greeting me as if he knew me and he was welcoming me home. He walks me maybe 100 feet where we are met by yet another man with the same charm and attention greeting me by name. I ask I we could wait outside so I could have a cigarette they say of course Mr. Stewart. As I am casually enjoying my 1st smoke in 40 hours, they ask if they could take my bags to the car. I then realize that the car had been waiting all along and the crew was just waiting on me not wanting to rush me in anyway, at the Oriental you are the boss. I turn and immediately see ET my driver in a white suit and a very smart white formal hat standing with the door open waiting for me with his sparkling new 7series BMW sedan. As the other two load my luggage into the trunk ET welcomes me with cold water and a cold towel to comfort me, in the lap of luxury, and I am here less than 15 min. As we drive I ask ET for suggestions on how to make the most of my three days in Bangkok, he asks me what I have heard of Bangkok and did I have any ideas of my own. I mention the river, the reclining Buddha, and the Grand Place. As ET was explaining the process of accomplishing these few items on my agenda, I ask him if he could recommend a guide to help me around and learn, and one who would know the city as a native. ET laughs and tells me that as long as I am here he will take care of everything reminding me that I am the boss. ET suggests that I spend my first day sleeping and relaxing at the hotel pool, I agree that this is the best idea, and then we make plans for him to pick me up at 9:am the following day for a tour of the city. I ask him if we would be doing so in the BMW he says of course Mr. Stewart. I also ask him if there is any time limit on this experience, ET replies “Mr. Stewart when you are with me you are the boss we go where you say and stay as long as you like.” I ask ET to just call me Stewart, It was difficult for him to drop the Mr. but I am not comfortable with so much formality, he agrees. I am looking forward to my first class tour of Bangkok with my new friend ET. The rate of this service is very reasonable. I am writing this days after my arrival, the day after my tour with ET, and I can now say that I highly recommend this experience. It is affordable, and this city is difficult to navigate, in short, dollars well spent. I mean really, where else can you find a personal tour guide in a 100,000.00-dollar car for an all day experience for the price of a beautiful shirt. ET was fantastic we had a great time. I will tell you more about this later, back to the hotel.

When we arrived at the hotel, the flagship of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel group, I am greeted by two greeters one for my bags and the other to welcome me and to present me with a beautiful bouquet of jasmine flowers the fragrance overwhelming, he opens the door and introduces me to my hotel assistant, he bows, everyone bows and knows your name. He checks me in and takes me too my room. After a quick tour of the beautiful room he tells me Mr. Stewart it now time for you to go to sleep you have had a very long day! I not only am getting great service and a very warm welcome but I am being gently guided in my exhausted state, I love it! He bows says good night backing through the doorway he says welcome the Oriental Hotel and he leaves me to my rest. I start my bath and begin to notice the beauty of the room there are flowers everywhere in the bathroom next to the bed, there are flowers on the desk there is even an orchid in the soap dish. I take my long awaited bath in the large tub surrounded in beautiful tile. I did not even have to open my bags as everything I could need was provided, bath salts, dental kit, shaving kit, body lotion, any body product you could imagine or need. After my bath I dry and then apply powder too my entire body, between my toes, behind my ears. The last time I had any powder on my body was most likely when I was a baby, but tonight I was not going to miss any opportunity to continue to pamper myself to the style I am very quickly becoming accustomed. I turn down the sheets open the window and shades as I want to be sure to see the sunrise. It is 2am I have been traveling for 40 hours, I lay awake on the bed and I feel a cool breeze wash over my body. I smile that even in this hot and humid climate there is relief a cool breeze coming off the river directly below my 7th story window. I had to laugh at my undying romantic nature, the breeze was not coming from the river at all it was the air conditioning system! Completely quiet and un-noticeable. I close the window with a chuckle. No need for the river breeze besides the room is so quiet I feel as if I am in a womb. I fade in and out of sleep for the four hours till sunrise, I am so comfortable not restless at all. I will sleep later, I now need to unpack and take some pictures of Bangkok coming alive on the river. I am very hungry and I look forward to the riverside buffet. I am the first to arrive at 6:30 the buffet does not open until 7:00 but this is no problem I am seated in the best seat on the terrace, offered something to drink and I then wait for the buffet to open. This somewhat of a challenge as I have not had a proper meal in two days and the smell of bacon is making me even hungrier! The buffet was up to the standards I am becoming to expect from the Oriental. Basically anything one could desire for breakfast is available.
The buffet is designed for all taste, American, European, Korean, Chinese, Thai, the juice selection alone is worth the price of admission. I have been relaxing on the terrace enjoying two and a half hours eating slowly and taking in all that surrounds me. The second arrival to the buffet is a 7-year-old precocious young American boy. As he enters it appears as if he is right at home he is alone. He is greeted as an adult and by name, he tells the woman who greets him that he will need a table for six because he will be joined later by his family. If there is any hotel you can let your child wander around in unattended it is here. I flash back to 1962. My family and I traveling through Hawaii, to Manila, and finally Hong Kong. Being the odd man out in my family the youngest of three I was a very independent young man much like the young boy being seated. My first night in Honolulu I could not sleep and wandering through the hotel much like the one I am in now. Beautiful tropical, but this one at the north point of Waikiki Beach. The women in the lobby greeted me and asked what I was doing up in the middle of the night. I explained I could not sleep they suggested I have a seat in a huge oversized chair in the lobby. They made me some crispy cinnamon toast accompanied with a glass of the best orange juice I had ever tasted, in minutes after finishing my midnight snack, I the new transient hotel mascot was dead to the world curled up in my big overstuffed bed in the lobby being watched over by my new girlfriends at the front desk only to be discovered by my mother 9 or so in the morning.
A fond memory, thanks to the Oriental I can relive.
Enough of the hotel review I will write more about this in future posting as this was only my first day and I have some catch up to do.
I have stacks of notes at least three days worth but in truth I am challenged on how to present it all. Bangkok is taking me places in my spirit I did not expect.
Stay tuned more to come I am of to Phuket in the morning. Love to all~!~
No I was not on the flight that crashed. A stroke of luck, as that was the first plan; to arrive in Phuket the same day as the crash and on the same airline but as mentioned earlier I was so impressed with the Oriental that I decided to stay on for a few more days. Is it too much to say the Oriental Bangkok saved my life? Maybe but what the hell I do believe in fate and luck and Karma. Who knows and does it really matter I am here and tomorrow I will be there.

PS: This is not a paid endorsement not even a room upgrade just sharing my experiences.

Hang in there

2007-09-16T18:18:00.000-07:00

I have written so much but all on a scratch pad
need to transcribe will do some posting tonight
Bangkok is bring up many thoughts and experiences to share
And to think I was thinking I would have a hard time with
inspiration for the blog compared to Venice.
Not! I am off on a tour of the city today. It is still monsoon season but I love it
Hot stickey........ Bangkok
Till Later

As Time Goes By

2007-09-15T20:54:00.002-07:00

The flight attendant reached across me offering some water to me gentleman in the window seat I am on the isle. I am watching “Streetcar Named Desire.” Blance is in the process of hooking Mitch and reeling him in. Not my favorite scene however I do feel the movie is one of the best. The amazing cast, a simple story filled with passion and the cost of loss, and survival it makes me uneasy my heart feeling her pain and desperation. As the attendant leans forward she notices that she is compromising my view with the water glass, of the video monitor embedded in the back panel of the seat in front of me. She stops retreats bows to me re-tacks the water glass and delivers to the man in the window seat, this time without obstructing my view of the movie. I am flying on Korean air. If you lean back in your seat you are considerate of the person behind you, subtle but I feel the curtain parting ever so slightly a vision into the Asian experience that awaits.
When was the last time you saw “Street Car Named Desire?” Simplicity can be so very complicated it is painful to see people suffer, especially when it is from the inside out.
The most difficult to heal to understand the saddest part is that in most cases all any of us need is truth compassion and understanding. Interesting I seem to relate to Blance more than any other character in the movie, this is a sign of a great story. Funny the movie I watched prior was 300 the story of three hundred Spartan warriors holding on to and protecting the fabric of their lives in the face of terrible odds. Easy to understand from a man that I can identify with the entire cast of the Spartan warriors. Honor and freedom fighting for what you love, and believe in. The fabric of Blanches life has now been ripped entirely in two. Desperation all hope lost and yet she fights to the last hoping only to retain some dignity in the face of her total demise, for now. I think I will watch Casablanca next I am on a roll, twelve hours through the looking glass a fitting way to pass the time ripping my heart out making me think, letting me feel.
Play it again Sam, “As Time goes by.” Here’s looking at you kid.

And She Sleeps

2007-09-15T20:08:00.000-07:00

Debbie lay beside me deep in sleep. I have always been jealous of her ability to simply shut her eyes and sleep. If I could have this sort of sleep experience I imagine I simply would surrender to sleep, this is not my fate. I am a restless spirit my mind difficult to slow down my body rarely gets tired and my heart is in a perpetual state of bliss and ache. If some people are two faced then I guess you could call me two hearted split in two; the most full and the most empty at the same time. Yet tonight, I am tired, my body needs to lie down. I have packing yet to do, but it is the last minute push and can be done in 30 min. I have spent my day preparing for my 7:30 departure to LAX first stop of two before I land in Bangkok, 15.9.07 11:50 pm. It is 11pm and already she sleeps so deep she does not stir as I lay down fully clothed beside her. I am planning to rest only a short while my pick up is at 5:30 am; I need to be up at 4 to allow for the finial push. I will be fine I have lived on 5 hours sleep most of my life. However tonight I do not sleep I lay awake the entire time. The best I can do is to calm, clear, and listen to her breath and to feel her body close to mine. I prefer it this way if I only have these 5 hours I do not want to spend it sleeping but aware of life as it is here now. Maggie my beautiful 2.5-pound Maltese beauty is sharing my pillow gently licking my face. Debbie like a child she sleeps beside me I can hear her heart beating. Is she dreaming, is she here with any awareness, I reach out and touch her face she does not wake I do not wake her. The red light shines up onto the high wall from the living room below. The bedroom door is open I can see our altar the doorframe from Indonesia in which the young Buddha stands twenty candles at his feet warriors standing guard. I can sense every corner of my home I can feel her heart beating. Monica and Max are here for the week visiting from New York.
They are sleeping in her old bedroom down the hall. I feel their love it fills the house and the world around them. I am very happy for them, and I, that they are here. I think of Colin my son his spirit restless like mine. He is almost done building his dream car. Bright yellow fast built with his hands from the frame up. He has done a beautiful job very professional, I am impressed he should be very proud. I am very proud of him, I miss him but I am very happy to have been able to spend most of the afternoon and evening with him. My thoughts and feelings are traveling with intent and focus. Taking it all in not wanting to miss a second.
Do you know how much I love you?
Thailand awaits mysterious, ancient, the heart of Buddha land, exotic, sensuous. It is the end of the rain season 90 degrees humid thunderstorms, hard rain pounding. I love the rain in fact I love any force of nature that reminds me of the magnificence of life, the planet. I imagine that the rains in Thailand this time of year are similar to South Florida. I remember the air the rain and body temperature so close it would feel like a warm shower a bath. As dangerous as it may be a few times while living there I went swimming late in the night, the rain one with the ocean, it was a close to the womb you can get, then laying on the beach naked my face to the sky the warm rain massaging my body. It is times like these I feel closest to God, nature, the universe. I will be staying at the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok for three nights before I travel to my final destination Kamala Beach located on the Island of Phuket in the south of Thailand. I am already thinking that this will not be enough time at the Oriental or for my first visit to Bangkok. I will leave to fate if the hotel has the room available for a couple of nights I will take advantage. I have packed very little choosing to travel light. Camera gear and tech gear fill most of my two backpacks.
At the last minute I see how tightly packed I am, and therefore decide to bring one more suitcase, so that I will have room for the collections of the reflections of my connecting with those I love as I journey as I discover treasures to share and delight. Basically Mate/Christian it’s like this, I will most likely do some shopping. Still not sleeping I turn off the alarm and take action, first the hot tub I love my hot tub no chance I am going to forgo a last minute 4am soak, then shower, pack, a little last minute organization and my pick up arrives right on schedule, 5:30 am. I take my bags to the driver and return to my house my home for goodbye kisses and I am off. I am now on the airplane it is a clear day we are flying at 22,000 feet I can see for miles, and if I close my eyes ever so slightly I can see halfway around the world. Now I am getting excited. I think of Debbie deep in her dreams, I smile and she sleeps.

RAW

2007-09-13T14:57:00.000-07:00

It really was love from the first, well maybe not love but certainly an instant attraction.
It was their minds, both women smart creative and very passionate, about life; making a difference in life not only their own, but for the world around them. The first time I met Karri she was in process of her Nia White belt training. This dates back to when we provided accommodations for the trainees. Karri was sitting at the kitchen table and we began a conversation that continues today five maybe six years later. We talked about changing the world not just with Nia but in any and everyway we could. Karri has always been very passionate about sustainability. Her passion for sustainability engulfs anything that can be optimized grown or saved from destruction; business, the planet, the body the spirit. Karri is a co-producer of the annual Greenfest conference. Karri walks her talk. We have over the years become good friends she is of my favorite people on the planet. In the time I have known Karri it has always been a pleasure to witness her as she has followed her dreams and manifesting all she seeks. When she speaks you can almost see her thoughts in motion. Alison and I met at a book signing in San Francisco three years ago. We had a similar experience we immediately connected and began a conversation that continues today, Nia. Alison is passionate about marketing and education she is bringing her experience in educational model development to the table along with her experience and passion in the marketing realm. Both women are very passionate about Nia and supporting the whole to grow and flourish as elegantly as possible. I am in Portland for a series of meeting through the week, a business stop over on my way to Thailand. As I sit at the conference table at Nia headquarters I smile deep inside as I witness the dynamics of the nine people assembled including Karri and Alison. Without the assembled team and the support of the entire Nia team including Debbie, Carlos, Shannon, Barry, Axel, Andy, Mike, Lloydine, Barbara, Dena, Ivy, Arianne, Katy, Dan the man, Maria, Cimi, Erica, Alison, Karri and Liz as well as the assorted outside support that we work with I could never take this important time to go on sabbatical. I feel again the excitement I felt when I first began 12 years ago with Nia. As I sit and listen to the ideas and the creativity of all that is being presented I remember why I am so passionate about my business the work of Nia and my job. I am taking in new breath and light my mind clear and fresh as it was when I first learned of Nia. From the beginning I was impressed that this was a body of work that is effectively influencing the planet in a very practical and positive way. Helping people to understand themselves and giving them tools to grow, heal, and find a deeper connection to spirit. I remember how excited I was after practicing the work for over three years to be asked by Debbie and Carlos to help them manage the growth of Nia. I sit here 12 years later watching both their dreams but mine as well fitting together like a puzzle that is beginning to come to life. Nia has always been alive the puzzle I refer to is the strategy we have been working on from the time I began with the organization, the players are at the table the tools in the chest and the vision is clear and action in motion. It has always been a dream of mine to work both Karri and Alison. Over the years I cannot count the hours of dreaming and brainstorming we have shared. For the most part individually but now together in one room around one table united with one vision. I feel satisfaction and a renewed confidence in our ability to manifest our goals. It has been said that it is the reflection of a man to see who walks beside him. Today I feel blessed and if I let my ego get away with me proud when I look out at the team that I have over the years put together to help me and Debbie and Carlos take Nia into the future.

Tomorrow I leave for Thailand. I still have to pack and finish some last minute business issues. Monica and Max arrived last night from New York City. They will be here for a week but I only have today with my man Max and my daughter. So I am feeling a bit anxious however I am not out of touch with the idea of waking up in Thailand in just a few days. I am doing my best to be open and to not hold any ideas or expectations. I am Relaxed Alert and Waiting.

I Can Fly

2007-09-11T15:15:00.000-07:00

Three currents, three directions
Blinding white as if caught in a cloud or a sand storm
The whirlpools created by the merging bodies flowing with intention
The moon moving the tides, rushing in, over under and through
Fluid, opening and yet resisting, pulsing into and at the same time
Blending, from three directions they come
One cold, clear, fast, rushing, moved by gravity no direction known
History carving a path of least resistance
The force of which driven by the changing of light carving stone
Slow, wide, predictable as the sun
Deep dark mixing with the earth, brown, cloudy
Full of life, a birthplace, nurturing and mysterious at the same time
Merging together, downward spiraling pulling at my heart
My legs wrapped, tied sinking deeper and deeper my face stinging
The splash of the crashing forces as they collide
I can fly, I can swim, I can begin again

Back To Portland

2007-09-10T07:58:00.000-07:00

All who journey change. My journey, one of self-exploration at the same time taking a journey into the heart of the culture of my destinations most certainly has had an effect on me, for life, how, I do not know at this time. Two people have told me I look younger and at 53 this is a welcome observation however I believe that change is deep inside me and will reveal itself over time. I know that I am humbled and have found a new level of love for life. I have always been one to revere life and celebrate in appreciation, in all that I do. I take time to give thanks for all my blessings and the opportunity to serve. I do this every day all day but in ritual before every meal I take a moment to say “ Thank you for your blessings, keep us healthy, keep us strong, keep us wise, and guide us to the light so that we may better serve” This is simply my personal way to pause for a moment and reflect and consciously express my deep respect for life and all that it brings. I feel I have matured into a place that is more relaxed, I feel less willing to fight. I have been fighting all my life and my time away has given me insight into how tired I am of fighting. There is no more need to fight. This does not mean that I am going to roll over the old me is still alive just growing and maturing at an accelerated pace. Coming back to Portland was quite uneventful of course there was a bit of a culture shock. It is difficult to travel from Venice to JFK international and not feel some culture shock. I suspect even as a casual traveler you would witness the vast difference. My first experience was at the baggage claim. I had a considerable amount of luggage. Enough that it was a challenge to fit onto the standard carts one can rent for three dollars, so I went to one of the attendants to ask for assistance, he looked like a man in charge with his red coat and badge, I asked him where I could find a porter to help me with my luggage. He simply shrugged his shoulders with out even uttering a word; I suspect this is some sort of airport dialect that means I don’t know. I enquired if he was in any way involved with the porter team and he told me that he was the supervisor, I was right if there was a man to talk to get a porter it would be he. I admit I was tired and this was certainly evident, but when I tried to get more information form the supervisor of the porters his only answer was you are on your own as he walked away.
Welcome to JFK, I know I am alone I did not need this man to remind me.
For most of my life I have been alone and now I am feeling very alone. Not just in that I must deal with my bags without assistance, but as with all of us, in regards to our lives we are ultimately on our own. I arrived late on Friday night slept for 5 hours. I got up meditated and prayed, took a hot tub and went to work. I later laid down for a short nap, as I was to meet my son Colin for an early dinner. I was looking forward to this I do not have much opportunity to be with Colin our time together is very precious to me. However I was so tired that I slept through three phone calls two of them from him. I did not wake up until 5:am. The traveling is hard on my body and I needed the rest. It is very unusual for me to sleep for so long and so deeply. I feel rested now and am preparing myself to go to work in a few hours. I have 4 days of meetings in front of me and one day to pack before I go to Thailand. As I have changed, how have those close to me changed, Carlos has been to Burning Man Debbie has traveled three times and has had to deal with a new level of responsibility, I am sure they have changes they will bring to the table that will effect the dynamic of our working together. I am excited and yet apprehensive our history has been less than harmonious and I fear that we could have grown further apart. Growth is always good however it can bring with it new dynamics of change. This could be good for us and certainly good for Nia, or not. We will see. I assure you that we will do our best to do the best for Nia.
I am done fighting.
We have many important decisions to make over the next 4 days before I leave again for Thailand. There are IT issues, Finance, Branding, Staff, Projects to green light and relationships to rebuild. I am excited and yet I am afraid, seems to be a life condition for me, maybe it is apart of the universal human condition. I am not sure all I know is as I sit here in the early morning watching the sun rise on another day I am filled with mixed emotions. It is good to be back in Portland to be with Debbie and Maggie, my house, my own bed and to take a bath. And I have always been ready to and honored to fill my role at Nia. My favorite breakfast place is still here they still remember my name as if they had no idea I had gone. A time warp, I imagine that it is somewhat like any life changing experience, psychotropic drugs, health, travel, situations that tear the fabric of your life; when I walked in to take my place at the breakfast counter it was business as usual I was not even missed. A simple good morning Jeff “What’s up” I wanted to jump up and scream “everything” and tell them all about my great journey but this is to be kept to my self. The experience of reflecting on my experiences by writing in this way has tempered me and given me a canvas to paint my stories my feelings.
Reality shift, today I put on my suit and I go back into the board room and once again become the business man the CEO of The Nia Technique. This time I will do it a little different bringing with me new tools and a deeper respect for the work that we do and a deeper level of appreciation for this opportunity to serve. Thank you for your blessings, keep me healthy, keep me strong, keep me wise and guide me to the light so that I may better serve.

I Got to wear the Suit

2007-09-09T07:41:00.001-07:00

I could never imagine as I sit here early morning in Campo S. Marghererita sipping coffee eating a Ventagli that even after such a magical experience and knowing myself to be easily moved most particularly at this time in my life that my last day in Venice would be so profound. This city has touched me more than any that has come before her; I am absorbed. Feeling as if I too have become a part of the soul that makes Venice so. In the 33 days of my stay I entered possibly only three historical places all of them churches. Once during my historical walk with Barbara, once for Irene in hopes that the Marble cathedral would help me connect with her to send her love and healing light. And once for Venice, in reverence to the creations of man that surround, me moved to my knees in expression, helpless to find any other way, Venice I bow before you. From a marsh dotted with small islands the flatland of silt upon which you built the foundation from which you rise. For close to 1700 years thriving surviving building a creation of historical, cultural, sociological proportions none have quite come to understand or express. Many have tried to attempt to share the feeling evoked through experiencing Venice none of which although admirable cannot begin to be complete if one has not swam in the lagoon or made a weak attempt too play in the sand. A miracle that you have preserved so completely your heart and sparkle in your eyes. Venice is like a beautiful woman who has beaten the ravages of time. There is a legend that the Holy Grail is buried under the Cathedral of Santa Maria Assunta on the Island of Torcello the first recognized settlement of the Veneti, basically where Venice was born around the time of 452 when people fled to the safety of the lagoons as a result of the recurring invasions of the barbarians from the north and east particularly Attila the Hun. I heard this legend from my friend Isacco a Venetian as we toured the island. If there is any truth to the legend of the Holy Grail than it is believable that it could be buried here, as Venice feels eternal. I have so many last minute pieces to put together and yet I am resistant to rise form my seat like an angry child stubborn to stay just a little while longer, just a little while longer, nothing other than will, the will to shift space and time by simply holding my breath. In surrender I decide I will accomplish the packing task in tandem. As I pass by my apartment on my way to have lunch with Marco and Davide my two jeweler ski buddies, I stop and spend 15 min. organizing stage 1. Then off to the jewelry store to hook up with the boys. They take me to their favorite restaurant now reopened after a summer break. The restaurant is located in one of the most charming Campos in the city San Giacomo dell’ Orio. A large Campo with a beautiful Chiesa; di San Giacomo dell’ Orio. One of the oldest in Venice it dates back to the 9th or 10h century. There are clusters of trees, benches, shops and one of the most beautiful apartment terraces in the city. Marco gave me a rundown of the specialties and his preferred dishes. As I often do I welcome the recommendation of my host I say sono con te (I’m with you.) I believe there is little point in making a decision on what to eat in a situation like this, the host I know will have a wonderful meal, never fails I always do as well. Today’s lunch is a salad with fresh vegetables and greens, served on an oversized plate, which included a grand offering of thinly sliced raw fish. Swordfish, tuna, octopus (slightly cooked,) salmon, clavier, baccala, thin and crisp bread sticks a little bread for a spread and a bottle of perfect white wine and voila you have it the Shannon special! A lunch she could eat every day possibly forever regardless of the magical location, however I somehow expect this would add some contribution to the over all experience, it most certainly did for me. Our lunch was brief today not the 2.5 hours as our first lunch just 1.5 hours. Today we did not rush however this was a business as usual day. Davide and Marco had creations to manifest and I had to pack and still meet with Ciccio for a couple of hours. Ciccio calls at precisely the agreed time, the moment we pay the bill. Walking back to the jewelry store with the guys, I have to slow down, caught up in the getting to know you and the planning of our next reunion I forgot to adjust my awareness, my lens to wide angle. I do so catching myself, now I am seeing feeling hearing and absorbing no less than 28 mm. As we walk, we talk of the ski trips we will take, the mountain cabin we will stay in, one room built of stone no water no lights. Just candles guitars wine food skis and two great guys, I suspect are great skiers and who will be life long friends. We talk of Debbie coming and they invite us to spend a weekend in the country with them. They, as are Venice and I, looking forward to Debbie visiting for 20 days. I can hardly wait to introduce Debbie to Venice and Venice to Debbie. Debbie Venice is waiting for you with open arms you only need to learn two words, Tutto Bene! I’ll take care of the rest along with the help of the crew of course.
Ciccio and I rendezvous at the jewelry store and after some laughs and a few photos off he and I go to look at apartments for my return. He only has a few hours left before he flies too Sardinia to the grand event the wedding of his brother Giuseppe to Alessandra; and yet he says, “don’t worry Jeff we have plenty of time.” In less than two hours we do it all including having time to chat on the street with a couple of people Ciccio meets along the way and still at the last minute have time to sit down for a drink at one last “very special place” Ciccio wants to share with me. The Bar is closed; this is a Ciccio Joke more times than I can count Ciccio says let’s go here we get there and the place is closed, this time it was the middle of the afternoon and the place was closed. However the door was slightly ajar so we walked in. Ciccio knowing the bartender I suspect also the owner he gladly served us. I did not even realize the bar was closed until I saw three different groups of potential customers turned away as Cicco and I sat outside sipping our beer and wine perspectivly. I feel embarrassed and at the same time special as we sit enjoying our time together. Ciccio helps me translate a note I am writing Rachele to thank her for all her kindness, I have not had the chance to say good by and I have a couple of pictures I want to share with her. This accomplished it is time for Ciccio to take off we say till next time and off he goes and I to finish packing. I cannot find the words or any action for that matter to express to Ciccio my thanks to him for all he has done and the role he has played in this central casting experience of “Jeff in Venice.” I do know that Ciccio and I will share many years of laughter together and “Very Special Times” to Ciccio “The Prince of Venice” I thank you. I want to give a few gifts before I leave. I printed off some pictures and placed them into thank you cards, I ask Christian if he will help me translate my words into Italian, he tells me that he is free in twenty minutes. We meet in the Ghetto. Such an interesting place the Ghetto, holding a huge piece of the history of the Jewish people as a treasure for the world to touch and feel. I believe that the Ghetto is of the most significant pieces of Venetian history there is, certainly it cannot not be measured or forgotten. Barbara was telling me as we strolled through the Ghetto on my private afternoon history lesson time with Barbara (a Venetian tour guide and concierge and now good friend) that once she viewed an apartment to rent in the Ghetto. The apartment was everything she could ever want in an apartment however there was one small problem the ceiling height was so low that she could not stand up straight, the ceiling being 2 inches lower that she stands. Remember the Jews were only given a two-block area for so many people (up to 4,000 at one point) that they had to take advantage of every square inch of space. My day with Barbara was informational but also fun and delightful. We ran into her parents, they were out shopping for an apartment for Barbara to buy. I enjoyed very much having the opportunity to meet them and spend time together. Barbara you remind me so much of your mother! Ha Ha!
Christian and I met in the central square of the Ghetto and we jump into the boat my favorite piece of Venice. Christian must know this, as there was really no reason what so ever for us to go anywhere, I had only asked him for a couple of minutes too help with some simple translations for two cards. We could have done this sitting on a bench in the square. But Christian has a plan he knows how much I love the boat and the water but I have missed a very important piece. In all the time I have spent on the water in the boat thanks to Christian and Ciccio although the weather has been beautiful most of the time due to the humidity I have never seen the mountains. Christian had told me that on a clear day you could see the mountains, but I had no idea how beautiful and how surprisingly close they were. Today was a clear day and Christian took me out into the lagoon to share with me the view. And yes I was taken back in awe and surprise at not only the beauty but how close the mountains really are. Thank you Christian for thinking of me and sharing this experience, now it seriously time to pack. I go back to my apartment and finish stage two of packing. I then gather my cards and gifts and go off to Postali to meet with the crew and have one last drink together before I leave for Thailandia. The whole crew is not there however Luca and Mara are as well as Serge, David the violinist, Diana the writer and Phillipo the musician. I give them my gifts and my love and off I go, to their surprise, but I still have packing to do and a good nights sleep to get as my taxi arrives at 8:am. On the way back to my apartment I run into Enrico and his girlfriend Chiara, they are on their way back home to change for the opening of a new bar restaurant, it is a formal affair a velvet rope event. They invite me along, I hesitate however this could be interesting and I still have not had the opportunity to wear my best suit, which I brought along in case of just this sort of occasion. I hurry back to my apartment to shower and change. I decide that in that I have seen the sun rise three times in 4.5 weeks why not see tomorrows as it is my last night in Venice, this trip, and I can always sleep on the plane or so I hope. We meet in Campo S. Polo they have brought along a friend Celestra, and off the four if us go to the grand opening. The event was as described and as expected. This was the first time I experienced an event with this part of Venetian society. Many of those in attendance were my age and very well dressed, I however was over dressed, oh well I did get to wear the suit. The event was boring and a bit snobbish we decide to go, and we end up back at Postali which I prefer much more. A few more of the crew had gathered and I was able to say a few more good bys before I left. Spending only a few minutes at Postali I return to my apartment and finish packing. I then go for a late night walk through the city, catch a short nap and then at 8:am I load into my taxi and off I go back to Portland for a short week before I leave for Thailand. Ciao Venezia fino alla volta prossima.

A Human City

2007-09-06T10:03:00.000-07:00

As he turned the corner he took me by surprise. I was startled, we came very close to running into each other, both of us stopping, we looked squarely into the eyes of the other deep as if looking into a vortex of time. He was smiling, a private joke reflected also in his eyes; unshaven barely a bristle of hair on his head he wore a stocking cap slightly cocked to one side it appeared close to falling off. He wore the striped shirt of the Gondolier blue and white, blue pants rolled up to his knees his sandals were old and worn to the point that you could imagine he had not removed them since the day he first placed them upon his feet. Tipping his hat he laughed and we parted. He continued on but within seconds as he had moved less than ten feet from me I heard him say Boo to two young girls who passed by him. This made me think he was drunk. Curious I decided to follow him for a short while. Soon It was clear that he was not drunk just a simple clown of a man walking through the streets amusing himself playing with the people he meets, clowning for the children, surprising pretty young girls as they stare at him; Boo! A simple man clowning with the world bringing to the streets his own piece of life contributing to ours in quite delightful way. This is a human city. Walking through Campo S. Polo rushing home as I was making preparations for a dinner party I had planned to gather my new Venetian friends to say thank you for their generosity warmth and for welcoming me into their lives. I had pictures to print wine to buy a Venetian albeit temporally I was busy in life. Nello and crew the local street musicians greeted me as I was passing, as I waved to them too hurried to stop and chat they approached me with intention; recognizing this I stop.
They had remembered the date of my departure and requested the opportunity to once again play for me. I explained that this evening I was entertaining friends at Taverna del Campiello Remer. They asked me what time they could come and play for us. We decided on 9:00 this turned out to be a perfect time as all the guest 25 in all had arrived and most of us were outside chatting with our cocktails when Nello and crew arrived once again delighting us all with their charm and music. This is a human town.
The dinner was of the best nights of my life. I had invited 26 people 25 showed up one had to go to the dentist for an emergency. The guest list was a mix of people I had met though Ciccio and Crew and people I had developed relationships with on my own just being in life, the interesting thing was that even though all the guest list was not from the same crew many of them knew somebody at the party if not all. Marlow from the Internet café dressed as a movie star matching his classic handsome Italian style had known Isacco since childhood and the two of them had not seen each other in years; this is only one example of the connection of the evening. Enrico brought his Clarinet being the quintessential musician he played along with BJ the resident musician, many sang along with classics in both Italian and English. A night to remember indeed as you can imagine we closed the place down and stood gathered outside the front door for one more smoke and laugh none of us wanting the evening to end. This is a human town. Last night I attended the birthday celebration of my dear friend Rosanna, gathering outside of her home away from home in a Campo near Rialto we shared food and wine and talked of the world. We discussed how different Venice is from other places and why it is different and Martina a multi generation Venetian who has been fortunate to have done a considerable amount of traveling I think said it best, Venice is still a human city.
The discussion of which went on for an hour or so, regardless I agree. People in Venice are in intimate relationship with each other as well as the city. They do not have to make appointments to see their friends, most of the family units are still connected they meet on the streets and in the cafes they speak of things that matter and the share their hearts. I love Venice it is still a human town, and for this my heart aches.
I leave tomorrow and as those of you who know me well know that I have yet to pack and I must post this last post from Venice (For now) not for any other reason than I must
Say ciao to Marlow and then I must stop by Postali and hug the crew until next time. And I must walk the streets of Venice filling my heart with as much as I can hold until I return to my new adopted home; Venice. To all of my friends…. do you know how much I love you? Until the end of time.

A Day at the Races

2007-09-04T06:45:00.001-07:00

I have decided to return to Venice after my stay in Thailand. This journey of mine is one of thinking, resettling, and healing; not of traveling to be a tourist. I cannot remember feeling this at home other than at my own with Debbie and Maggie. Could be some past life experience or it could just be the wonderful people I have met, my love of history and architecture and my having moved so much as a child. Living in Rome for my predominant formative years without question had an effect on my personality and culture. In some small way I feel a piece of my heart is a little bit Italian. For this reason when I return from my time in Thailand I will finish my sabbatical in Venice. I have enrolled in an Italian immersion language school for the first 4 weeks of my return. For these 4 weeks I will live in an Italian home and study hard to learn this beautiful, magical and musical language as quickly as possible.
I admit to a fantasy of one day living in Italy. In the meantime as life happens my new hobby is learning Italian. My work during this time other than as I have described is to create for and strategize the future of Nia. At this point I am comforted to know that the intensive work the Nia team has accomplished in creating a foundation where we can now focus on growth. This is an area I excel in and I can assure you that my creative juices are flowing. With Nia, growth has happened as a matter of course. Transformation is alchemical and can create a chain reaction. Nia has grown in this way. That said the opportunities lay in direction and delivery.
Back to the travel log; yesterday I watched a Venetian Regatta. The Regattas of Venice began as military exercises. There a many different Regatta events held in Venice beginning in March and ending in September. The one I witnessed is held the first Sunday in September and is a grand festival, a Venetian Parade. Much like the Rose parade we have in Portland. The first boats of the, pass along the Grand Canal as a precession leading off the main event; the race of the Gondoliers. Most of the Gondolas taking part in the precession are decorated very ornately and many carry passengers in period costumes. The first official Regatta of this type dates back to some time around 1300 it was held on the feast of the Marias (referenced from the Knoff guide on Venice.)
I was to connect with my friend Manual a professional photographer a Venetian Photographer. He was going to pull some strings and get me a pass to the press box so I could have a good vantage point to take pictures of my own. This did not happen as Manual is one of the top photographers in Venice and is in high demand particularly this time of year, with many events happening it is also the week of the film festival. Manual was side tracked with a call from the star brigade. Any pictures you see of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp, from the Venice film festival could very possibly be Manuals. He is a Rock Star of Photographers. Not disappointed in anyway, understanding this, is his prime time and I am just a tag along, I decide that I better start looking for a spot to park myself and create my own prime spot. Not knowing the city that well, I thought of the pier in front on Emilio and Angela’s Restaurant “ Taverna del Campiello Remer” situated on an outside curve of the Grand Canal and directly between the Rialto Bridge and the Rialto Fish market, how could I go wrong. Besides if I got hungry or thirsty the Taverna was right there. I went early, not sure if the restaurant would be open this early I took along some snacks and took my place and waited for the event to begin the proposed time was 3:30. When I arrived the restaurant was open and preparing for the event and placing some seating along the dock. Some people had already arrived, however I was in luck and there was still plenty of room for me. Soon boats began to arrive and tie up to the dock. As with many of my prior experiences I fell into a bucket of luck. By the time the dock filled with boats tied together three deep on all sides, there was Mauro one of my favorite buddies from the internet point from where I work and Laurie from Café Rosso, I knew a nice portion of the gathered crowd and felt right at home it felt like a family picnic. Then last but not least at the last minute Manual the paparazzi pulls up in yet another boat and ties up at the end of the boat park. He notices me and I ask him if I can join him; he and Phillip (who I had not yet met) welcomed me aboard. So I climbing over two other boats I took my seat; the best seat in the house. Soon the Regatta began I took close to 1,000 pictures thanks to digital technology, I gave my card to Manual and off he went, to up load the pictures to his clients and the AP. Maybe one of my photos will make the grade, regardless I had a blast! I got some new camera tips, too much sun and some new friends. I finished my day with a small dinner at Emilio’s and then a quick stop at the Communista rally. The band that was playing (a fantastic disco cover band) had been at the same boat party as I. I was not aware of this until I arrived at the show and as often happens in Venice I ran into others I had Venetian tailgated with. They informed me that three of the members of the band had indeed been at the boat party that afternoon. I was happy that I had my camera with me as earlier in the day I took some wonderful pictures of the lead singer his pregnant wife the backup singer in the band and their delightful two-year-old boy. This will make for a fun gift for them, the day at the boat show, the child and the rock show.

The Fight Club

2007-09-02T04:19:00.000-07:00

Today is one of the biggest days in Venice, The parade/ race of the gondolas.
The canal is lined with barges complete with bleachers and music playing through speakers all along the canal. Stars of all kinds are everywhere, movie stars, rock stars; the skies are filled with helicopters some carrying the stars others the paparazzi. Yesterday we cruised the Lagoon it was quite the event to see all the yachts and helicopters, last night the city was full of black ties and beautiful dresses. It felt as if the entire town was a black tie party as the partygoers moved to and fro to their parties a parade of the elite.
I am tired today I passed on a party invitation last night and chose instead to go home early after a wonderful meal at the home of my friend Francesco. In bed by ten and up at nine I have parked myself along the canal in front of Emilio’s restaurant hoping to have a good advantage point to take some pictures. Friday night was the night of my Bepe’s bachelor party. This was quite a different party than the party of Diego. This group of guys are intimate with each other, but in a different way they fight “ The fight Club.” I chose to dress in one of my finest suits out of respect to my new friend other wise I would have been more in the flurry. As it was I woke up with my share of bruises and sore knuckles.
Basically taking and giving my share of shots. I am no stranger to street fighting although it has been many years and I am 20 years senior to the crew, I did my best to stay on the sidelines however as I have explained I was not completely successful.
The Party took place in a square on the edge of the Canal. The square was very crowed as this is where the Communista party is still holding their rally, complete with food and music. They really know how to attract a crowd. So twenty or so of Bepe’s close friends gather for food drink and fighting. I open the evening with a gift to Bepe. I came upon the idea for his gift while shopping for Debbie. I was browsing Dolce Cabanna in hopes to find some sale items, when I saw some pink men’s underwear; this gave me the idea for the gift. Not knowing Bepe or his future wife well I was at a loss of what would be appropriate, the pink underwear seemed fun and gave me an outline for the roasting a little speech for the groom. I gave him the gift. After he opened it he laughed and I announced that I had to explain the purpose of my choice. I gathered the men around and in a huddle in an attempt to overcome the noise of the festival I went on to explain with Isacco translating. “ I chose to wear all black this evening as I am in mourning for yet the loss of another free soul, I am honored to be here at this special event having just met the two of you thank you for your gracious invitation. Not knowing you well I was at a loss of what would be an appropriate gift. When I chose the underwear I bought the largest pair I could find because from what I know of Alessandra her great beauty and huge heart, I know it takes a huge man with huge courage to be the husband of such a woman, he must also have very big balls.” The men all laughed and then regrouped intent on my every word. I went on to explain “ I chose the color pink because I want you to always remember to stay in touch with you feminine side and your sense of humor. But to be a good husband you must always remember that she is a woman and you must always be gentle and kind you must listen to her even when you do not understand her and you must end every night with a look into her eyes an a kiss.” I had wrapped the present in a pink tie, I went on to explain “ I bought the tie so that you would not look so fucking stupid standing there in your over sized pink underwear!”
We finished eating and went again to the Lido Beach bar.
Through out the eveing many of Bebe's friends came to me to thank me for the speach as they felt I was speaking for them. I spoke the words they were unable to say as it is not their culture to do such a thing: it was my honor to do so.
Back to the party, Ciccio introduced be to owner a young man in his thirties, in a t-shirt shorts and baseball cap, I did not know he was the owner of the bar thinking I was being introduced to just another of Ciccio’s many friends.
I have given Ciccio a new nickname “ The prince of the city.” Yackabu my new friend offered me class of Rum and Coke, not wanting to be culturally insensitive but yet have already had my share of white wine I refused his generous offer. He laughed and asked what I was drinking, I told him Champaign he grabbed me by the arm escorted me to the back of the bar and opened a bottle of Bollinger of a very fine year we finished this as we stood basically in the kitchen then he opened another. It was then midnight. He moved the little gathering that was growing to the VIP section bringing along two very large buckets of ice two bottles of each asking a visiting Movie Star and his friends if they would move to another table to accommodate the growing private party of Yackabu, he graciously obliged and we went on until 4 in the morning. I was having such a good time my energy so high I did not for one moment feel drunk just drunk on life.
Thank you Bebe for a wonderful experience and your new friendship I wish you and Alessandra all the happiness in the world and many healthy and happy children to contribute to the richness of your lives together.
Isacco thanks for the bruises. It is good to know that I can still take a punch and return such. I will say however good thing the suit survived.

Golden Boys

2007-08-31T09:06:00.000-07:00

Today in the lowest of the elevations in Venice the water breached the walls of the canals. This happens more often each year many believe it is a result of global warming I tend to agree. However the phenomena is an annual event repeated numerous times throughout the fall and winter. The worst of the floods of Venice or at least of those recorded was some time in the mid to early 1960’s. They say Piazza San Marco was under four feet of water. Through out the city on either side of the doorways are steel channels that fit tightly to the threshold. Measuring two to three feet high these channels are used in the event that the water breaches the wall and the occupants of the dwelling can place a steel plate within the channels to help stop the water from flowing into the building, these are literally floodgates. Today the high tide was not so extreme as to require any such measures, the water only breaching the walls in the lowest of elevations Piazza San Marco being one of them. This provided the tourist yet another delight of the unique qualities of the city. Throughout the square they were taking off their shoes and wading though the water while their friends took pictures yet another photo opportunity. I had no interest what so ever to wade through the high water in Piazza San Marco, remember that is the place that is famous for the pigeons and where there are pigeons there is pigeon shit lots of it, I think I need not explain further. Anyhow the high water is without question an unusual sight. One could almost have the sense of walking on water. I can imagine if you were drunk wandering home at night missing the edge of the stone walkway and finding yourself not walking on water but unfortunately swimming for your life. I hope to catch the high tide in the early morning when the Piazza San Marco is empty and the birds are still sleeping for my own photo opportunity. The experience of being with the waking birds in Venice is another story, and can be very fun. They wake not as a herd, you may not know this but there are lazy birds sleeping until the last minute, could be they are night birds and are sleeping off the night before as many of the rest of us. But when you come to Venice you must go to the Rialto Bridge and sit and watch the city come alive beginning with the birds. They will actually play with you, taking turns dive-bombing you. The other morning I had this experience, for a good five minutes I sat and focused my camera ten feet out and just sat and waited as the birds swooped down at me. I waited until one would be in the perfect range and then clicked away attempting to capture bird in flight with Venice in the background. I chose to believe that they were playing with me and taking turns posing for me. One after another they would come flying directly at me turning to miss me only at the last minute sometimes within a couple of feet of my camera lens. I am convinced of their intention as I could actually see them perched on some ledge in the distance watching me before taking their turn with the dive bomb pigeon game. One after another; I got my shot well worth the wait! Last night as I sat alone having dinner at the bar of my new favorite restaurant I was approached by the owner Emilio, just a welcoming chat. He inquired of my purpose in Venice. I told him of my journey. He began to laugh and called over a friend of his and the two of them introduced themselves as the “Golden Boys.” Emilio was the marketing director for Phillip Morris in Europe in his previous life and Andre also a top executive for a major corporation in Europe. At some point they both decided they were finished and walked away leaving piles of money on the table. I admire their courage very much; they remind me of my good friend Francois who did the same. Francois if you are listening I look forward to us visiting Venice together and hanging out with the “Golden Boys” I miss you my friend. Emilio went on to explain that when he was with Phillip Morris he visited Venice often and fell in love with the city, no surprise here. He visited Venice enough that he bought a small apartment in the city maybe ten years ago. The three of us are exactly the same age; I look much younger of course! He told me that his only disappointment with the city was that he could not find a simple plate of spaghetti at any of the restaurants in town. Inspired to create his own reality, upon receiving an unusually large bonus he bought a small restaurant and put first on the menu spaghetti. He quit his job and moved to Venice.
Francois are you listening? Emilio has relocated his restaurant three times and now has one of he most popular restaurants in Venice. He puts his hand on my shoulder and looks me squarely and intently in the eyes an says “Jeff there is life after death” move to Venice and join the “Golden Boys Club.” I laugh and said ok Emilio I will move to Venice if you will give me a job playing guitar in the corner. He immediately jumped up went to the musician playing piano in the corner whispers in his ear, grabs a guitar bringing it to me and placing it in my hands he says “Play for us Jeff.” Ok, now I am on the spot 50 or so people in the restaurant some eating some just standing around the bar, ranging in age from newborn to ancient (this is a hip yet a family place.) Most of them have witnessed the action of Emilio and are now quietly looking at me with what expectations I can only guess; what could I do? Without hesitation as if channeling I began to play; first with Dylan’s “Tonight I’ll be staying here with you.” As soon as I finished one of the audience yells out Pink Floyd. I played the only Pink Floyd song I know “Wish you were here” as if scripted as the request played right into my very limited repertoire, next someone yells Springsteen I think I am in a movie again I only know two Bruce songs I chose “I’m on Fire.” I was playing my first gig in Venice. I finished with a song of my own “I will win her” took a bow too an I think surprised audience and a grand applaud. Handing the guitar back to Emilio he says, “welcome to the Golden Boys Jeff”
Thank you Emilio but I must pass…… this time. I still have work to do, work that I love and fills my heart.

Strong as a Bull fragile as a Flower

2007-08-29T09:19:00.000-07:00

I stand at a cross road three and a half weeks into my journey my body sometimes in such pain close to unbearable and yet I feel as strong as the bull.
My heart sad and lonely and yet so full of love and appreciation for all that I have and all I have lost. My mind sometimes completely empty and then other times so full I think it will explode. My spirit weak and yet soaring into the unknown. Will I heal as the phoenix rises from the ashes of destruction to wake up one day as if miraculously freed from fear given a new. And if so what is to destroy for the phoenix to be reborn. I search and I wait in acceptance and in fight I stand alone.

Everyday as I document my experiences in this way, I question what could I possibly write tomorrow. I do not want to become a tour guide or bore you with daily updates on my health. My descriptions of life in Venice through my experiences, and sharing my feelings and views is as close as I want to get to Venice according to Jeff. There is as you know such history here such richness I am at times unable to express all that I see, hear, and feel. If you have never visited Venice I encourage you to do so but first buy some books of the history and prepare yourself, as you can easily get lost in the labyrinth. I have taken a few days too rest and let go of the touring experience. I have been without my camera for two days and have slept 10 hours two nights in a row this is unusual for me as those who are close to me can attest. Last night after sleeping 2 hours there was a voice calling me from the street below, this is the traditional Venetian phone system and still is as there are many locations that still have limited Cell Phone coverage. I think this will never change certainly not in my Apartment surrounded by mountains of stone separated only by the narrow valleys that pass through them. My apartment has walls that are no less than two feet thick and are composed of stone and brick. Certainly a challenge for radio waves thus no cell phone in my apartment. Hence Isacco calling to me “ Jeff what are you doing let’s go for a drink” it was not late by Venice standards and certainly not late for Isacco at any time he is the night owl of Venice. This town has many opportunities for one to stay out the entire night; many places close at four and then close the doors and continue the party until the last man falls. Isacco had traveled the 20 min walk form his last location, to connect with me having just arrived in town this afternoon from his trip to Ivera visiting the home and family of his girlfriend Francesca. So now it is Jeff and Isacco time. He did his best to encourage me to change my sleeping plans and join him. I stood my ground or my bed in this case and said goodnight there will be time for us tomorrow, forgetting of course that I would have to wait until tomorrow night as Isacco would most likely be sleeping off the night before. We have a quick and small glass of wine and back to sleep I went. Waking early I pass on my morning picture excursion and begin immediately to work. I am inspired, Nia is calling me. I work for a couple of hours and then play guitar for a couple more. I decide to go to Campo Santa Margerita to Cafe Rosso for an early lunch. I had three days past given my friends a CD of my music. When I arrived they all began to clap Bravo Bravo, they liked the CD and are now playing it as part of the standard music selection at the Café, I am honored and admittedly and bit surprised, I gave it to them as a gesture of friendship never thinking they would actually adopt is as music for the Café. I feel very much at home here. A brief sideline as I am sitting and writing to you on the water wall of the Grand Canale bordering a courtyard of one of the most picturesque Taverna’s I have found in Venice “ Taverna del Campiello Remer.” When you visit Venice this place is a must visit the food and company as good as it gets. The Campiello is surrounded by three buildings three stories high one side open to the Grand Canale. The building directly opposite of the canal wall on which I am sitting has a second story balcony with Moorish stairs that rise along the left facing wall. These stairs access the balcony. Under the stairs are three arches with doorways of stained glass and metal. The entrance to the Taverna is this Campiello (a small campo) and is vine covered with a simple light over the door. The doors are double hung each 3 feet wide and at least 2.5 inches thick again ordained with metal artwork and stained glass. Outside of the Taverna wine kegs are used as tables as is the cistern that is typical of all campo’s public and private. These cisterns were once used for drinking water they captured rainwater and I believe filtered the water using stones. I am sitting 500 feet to the north on the opposite bank of the Rialto fish market and the same distance from the Rialto Bridge. I have just been approached from behind with a pat on the back from a stranger telling me that if I am a Blazer fan he will throw me in the water! Tony a Venetian living in Portland Or. is visiting his family in Venice for a few weeks. Jorge the bartender has directed him to me, a small world indeed. Tony’s wife works in the same block as Nia HQ. Her office is on Salmon ours Yamhill, a new Nia student found in Venice.

I am a Migrant Worker

2007-08-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

It seems that wherever I travel in my neighborhood S. Polo I cannot do so without running into my homeboys, Nello, Stetlean, and Nicola. Nello plays guitar, Stetlean, viola, and Nicola violin. These guys are professional bruskers, they are migrant workers, some would call them gypsies. They travel from to Venice from their home in Romania every year for more than six months at a time and they have been doing so for ten years.
Before Venice they traveled to other cities for the same purpose, Paris, Rome, Berlin. They have found that Venice is the most profitable and as well as the being the easiest to navigate. If one restaurant or Campo is not paying well they can easily move to a new location to test the market. Nello is 35 years old and has been married to the same woman since they were teenagers. They have three children, two boys and a girl. One of the boys is to follow in his father’s footsteps and will one day soon begin to travel with his father. The other boy is of a different character and has an aptitude for higher learning. Nello has enrolled him in a special school where he studies along with basic academic studies, other cultures and languages. It is his as well as Nello’s dream that he will one day be able to create a life other than the life of his father, a traveling musician. The girl is still young and her fate is most likely to marry. Nello is very proud of his family and is quick to pull out his phone and show you pictures of his family. His face is as round as the moon and lights up with a sparkle that makes him appear ageless. Every day Nello has on the same clothes, a perfectly clean white t-shirt orange pants and red shoes. He is always perfectly groomed I imagine that he does his laundry every night. In Romania the choices for a better life are limited. This is why these three musicians the two brothers and their friend travel to Venice each year. Leaving their families for six months to make money to live: and for Nello to be able to pay for the special school for his son to obtain the education needed to break out of the limitations of Romanian life. I think that we in America are in many ways out of touch with how many people in this world are forced to do the same.
The migrant workers who come to us from south of the border to harvest our fields, the Philippinos that serve the rich in the middle east and the prostitutes of Amsterdam and South East Asia to the beggars in the streets all over the world.
From the beginning of time men and women alike have been forced to leave their homes and families for extended periods in order to discover, earn, and learn. Filling their suitcases with silver and gold, lessons from different cultures and new ways to live think and feel. Cultural exchange has forever been one of the major fuels for the development of, and the improvement and sometimes the demise of societies. Venice is the epitome of this dynamic. Almost from the beginning Venice has been a major portal for men to travel to distant lands to discover new and better ways to provide a life for their families. Whether it be silk from the east, salt, silver and gold, and even importing soldiers from the south to help them fight their wars, they even imported Jews to lend them money to finance these journeys and wars. Venice has always been in the business of import and export and a gateway for seekers from all the world to come together and in conjecture and legend build their vision supporting their dreams of the path to the golden rainbow.
It is interesting to me that destiny has brought me to Venice as in many ways I am in the exact place of all those who have come before me. Having to leave my home searching for new tools and ideas along with internal and external growth to return to my family stronger and wiser, so that we can continue to grow together building better and stronger lives.
I am a migrant worker.

I feel a finished Man

2007-08-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

Today is the finial day of the Bruskers festival in Ferrara. If you do not know, a Brusker is a street musician who plays for tips and the love of playing. Having done my share of Brusking over the years, I can assure you that tips are not the primary motivator. The tips usually are low. There are always stories among Bruskers of the time that they had a great day, “One time in (City) I played for two hours and made three hundred dollars, these stories are mostly urban myths. I have never even come close the most I ever made was enough for a beer and a sandwich. So the core of Brusking is the love of playing music and sharing your love and your art with people who for the most part just pass you by. One could view this as a bit masochistic, and yet the tradition continues, I have never visited a city where I did not have the opportunity to share the wealth with a Bruskers or two.

So I went to Ferrara on Friday to join the Bruskers many of whom travel great distance for the festival, think of this as a convention for street musicians. I was misinformed most likely due to my incompetence with the Italian language. What I thought I heard was the festival was a daylong event and Friday the 24th was the day. So off to Ferrara I go with my guitar and my backpack loaded with camera gear. I arrived in the morning, having no idea of where to go, I jump into a taxi. The driver speaking almost no English took me to the castle. I knew this much about Ferrara, in the week of me building up to the experience I had spoke with more than a few of my friends of my intention of traveling to Ferrara to participate in the festival. Everyone I spoke to made sure to tell me that the castle in Ferrara is one of the best in Europe. This being the only reference I had I directed the non English speaking taxi driver to take me to the castle simply by saying castle, I stand corrected my pronunciation was not correct and the driver did not at first understand until the light went off in his head and he says; castello. We got it and off we went. I was not disappointed; the castle is all a castle should be complete with a moat. It is the one of the only castles in Europe that has a fully functional moat. The moat is fed by a spring and has a well-established Eco system complete with fish and a large variety of fauna. Spectacular, rising high above the city the castle recently restored is made of brick; there are the obligatory four lookout towers one of which towers maybe 100 feet above the others. There are battlements from which archers could rain arrows down upon the invaders. The drawbridge and all the machinery to operate it are in perfect operating order as if they were built yesterday.
I was famished and upon exiting the taxi I went to the nearest restaurant for a quick meal, excited to get on with my brusking. I was surprised in that most of the restaurants close to the tourist attractions are not the best, I ordered the one thing I did not recognize nor could I pronounce Sfogliatella. It was fantastic, the dish was a pastry sweet and tender filled with mozzarella cheese and Prosciutto Crudo covered with Prosciutto crudo more cheese this time shredded Parmesan and resting on a bed of arugula. Think of the best ham and cheese sandwich you have ever had. I took a chance and scored big time. So my quick lunch turned out to be a leisurely meal complete with a mezzo liter of vino bianco di casa.
I was later told my Marco my jeweler friend that Ferrara is famous for it’s food and friendly people; the reputation is well founded. Finishing my meal I was off to brusk. I began to search out the festival and soon found out that the festival was not a one-day affair but that it took place the entire week however it took place in the evenings beginning at 8:pm. Disappointed but not discouraged I decided I would return on Sunday which is the last day. Unlike the previous days where the festival begins at 8:pm on the last day the festival begins at noon and goes until the streets are empty. I had with me quite a load between my guitar and my camera case and so was limited in my ability to tour the town. After a brief look around the castle I found an alcove out of the drizzling rain took out my guitar and began to play. I had come to Ferrara to brusk I would not leave the city without doing so. I played for an hour or so my guitar case lying at my feet so those passing by could shower me with coins. I will admit a bit of over confidence in this. I am an experienced brusker I have a decent repertoire of appropriate music for such an occasion a better than average voice and a beautiful sounding guitar, so It would make perfect sense to expect maybe not three hundred in two hours but at the very least train fare. I was wrong in one hour not even a single coin was thrown my way. Oh well there is always another day. I packed up my gear and made my way back to the train station planning to return on Sunday for the grand finale. I was completely surprised when exiting the taxi who do I see but my friend Rachele the girlfriend of Ciccio, she was also surprised, she was in town for business. Her business finished she was waiting as I for the next train to Venice. Of course we traveled together. It was a good opportunity for us to connect on a new level one on one. Rachele is in the promotion business and is promoting an art event that will take place in Ferrara in a couple of months, she specializes in art events.
It is now Sunday. I woke up today exhausted. My mind full my heart full and my body so tired I cannot even imagine carrying once again all of my gear to the train station and then through the streets of Ferrara. I had spent Saturday night at the home of Luca and Mara. The two of them had prepared a dinner party for the crew of Postali. The day began with Mara, Luca, and Serge knocking on my window at about 9:30 in the morning. They were taking me to the Rialto Fish market to gather the ingredients for the feast I took it upon myself to ordain the Beggars Banquet. Again I am honored to be invited. These are 12 of the oldest and best of friends and to be included is most certainly a gift and an honor. The Rialto Fish market is an experience at any time but on Saturday it is a different world. Busier than usual and with a larger varity of fish, all freshly caught no farmed fish on Saturday. Many of the varieties were completely foreign to me; of course I took hundreds of pictures not only of dead or dying fish but also of the scene of the shoppers all competing for the attention of those serving. If there is not a name for the people who work at this market there should be, I think I will create one, maybe I can start something new, contributing to an ancient tradition. I will brainstorm with Luca on this one. The Fish market is not limited to fish alone. There are many vegetable stands and flower stands as well the open air market is lined with bread shops the smell of fresh bread mixed with the smell of fresh vegetables and fish is enough to make any one hungry, so the tradition is to when finished shopping go to one of the many café’s lining the market and have a francobolo (small bite size sandwiches) or two and maybe a glass of prosecco or two. Again I am surprised at the frequency of which I run into people I know. I have been in Venice three weeks and at the market I ran into two of my new friends, Marco and Manuel both of whom have come to the market for, what else dinner of the freshest fish you can find, the ripest vegetables the warmest bread and community. As we gathered at the café Marco a different Marco our conversation turned quickly to politics and the world community. We are watching the Communist setting up for a rally to be held over the weekend complete with food and music; it looks like it will be a major event. We talk of the power elite and how Europe, Italy, America all of the world is suffering from similar dynamics as we discuss the democratic process. They feel powerless and therefore few of them even vote. I explain that this is also the case in America. What is the point when the choices are mostly the same and the idea of the power of the people only an illusion set forth to give us a sense of security that we have some control over our destiny. We debate; is this new or has it always been this way. In the past many societies were ruled by dictatorship supported by a republic a congress or a parliament call it what you will the point is that even with my limited understanding of the dynamics of politics I understand that little has changed only the window dressing. As an example what will it take to get the troops out of the farce we call the middle eastern conflict. Accomplishing only three things distracting the American people so we can not easily see that the Emperor has no clothes, raising the price of oil making the rich richer, and killing hundreds of thousands of innocent people and all we get from Bush is we will stay the course and not back down from the global threat of terrorism. I do not profess to have a deep enough understanding of the history of such things and quite frankly when I listen to those who are quick to pontificate what they believe or insist that they know the real issues in the world I have to laugh at their confidence in their own nativity. Point being when there are people dying children homeless and starving and cultures being destroyed, and no one can with any certainty say why; we are in big trouble. Venice was once ruled by the Doges there were no elections only appointments. This system was the way of the world since the beginning of time. The election process was after the fact. If the ruler failed the people stormed the palace and chopped of his head, end of story, next. We discussed that one of the biggest issues is that we no longer speak with one another the communication circles of the past decimated in my opinion around the time of the industrial revolution. Without understanding and wisdom we are powerless and so here we stand at the mercy of the power elite. Is there hope can the communication potential of the internet restore the lost vehicles of days past the family dinners the speakers corners the soap box. Who knows and who is in enough pain to fight to make the change.
This Saturday morning at the Rialto fish market the suffering of the world is distant and foreign to us today we are happy and full, body mind and spirit. Some things are the same everywhere, some care others do not, some are not capable.
I was at the dinner party of Luca and Mara until 3:30 in the morning. As I sat and observed the festivities regardless of the language barrier I felt completely one with the group. One does not need to speak the language to understand laughter, love, and good food. I laughed with them I ate with them and I loved with them, the evening once again a full cup.
Sunday I slept until noon. This is very unusual for me. I leisurely awoke, I wrote I dreamed and I took off at sunset with my camera to capture some of the most beautiful light in the city. Due to my exhaustion I chose not to go to Ferrara, I decided to go to Verona instead no camera no guitar no notebook. I had been given a gift of a round trip ticket for two to Verona on Friday when I was buying my ticket to Ferrara at the automatic ticket kiosk. After I finished the process I reached into the bin to retrieve my own ticket to Ferrara and I found waiting for me apparently left behind by a pair of confused travelers an extra ticket. Good fortune can sometimes rain upon you. In that I was too tired to go to the bruskers festival I chose to instead take a leasuly journey to Verona with my free ticket.
Truth is that I was too exhausted to do even this. I did go to the train station with every intention to travel of Verona. Upon my arrival at the train station I decided to go back home and sleep. Verona will have to wait until another day. After my nap of three or so hours I decided to treat my self to a grand meal.
It being Sunday evening and being alone with no plans I decided I would don my finest suit and go to a restaurant introduced to me by Marco. Marco said this restaurant was of the finest in the city, it certainly had the ambiance to fulfill my fantasy the specialty of the house is meat. I have not had a steak since I have arrived.
So off I go but not before shinning my shoes to a perfect shine putting on a black suit with a perfectly ironed white shirt complimenting my new Venetian tan. I ironed my shirt on my bed as I have no ironing board, I tie my tie in a classic Windsor and off I go to the restaurant of Angela “Taverna del Campiello Remer.” If you have the gift of visiting Venice find this restaurant. It is perfect directly across from the Rialto bridge the view is fantastic as well is the food. I no sooner enter the courtyard then I am greeted by friends whom I unexpectedly run into. Manuel, Michele, Danella and Laura. They are there for snacks and spitz. I join them for appetizers and then I excuse my self; I have a much-anticipated steak to eat. Welcomed as an old friend Gustavo and Angela make me feel at home serving me a wonderful t-bone. Unsurprising at this point as I am finishing my delicious steak in walks Biagio and Rosanna, we share a night cap and then I excuse my self too retire early. Today I am still very tired and my body aches.
I feel a finished man.

If I had to Chose

2007-08-25T03:29:00.000-07:00

If I had to chose what would I do
How could I chose between Red Yellow Green or Blue
Red the color of life that runs through our veins
Filling our hearts beating feeding our souls
One dreams eternal yet fleeting
As if the blink of an eye
If the air we breathe were a color
It would be green
The trees the grass in the fields
The ultimate kiss
Breath to breath
Green the color of the air we breathe
The fiery sun filling us with light
The fuel of our existence
Spring fields of yellow
Fresh grass flowers blooming
Spreading the seeds of tomorrow
The extension and the circle of life
Blue driven by desire
The roots of human condition
To create to love to be loved
To reach for the stars
To understand to be understood
The endless sky the center of why
The sea blue like the sky
Or the sky blue like the sea
Can we dive into the sea and swim in the sky
Foreign another world within our own
Mysterious and yet welcoming
The deep blue sea
If I had to chose a color
It would be blue
Only because I had to chose.

And Then The Rain Came

2007-08-25T03:28:00.000-07:00

And Then The Rain Came:
Venice in the rain can be very dangerous; the narrow walkways filled with people Venetians and tourist all mixed together. The tourist in a casual stroll, of course, this is what they came for to wander the streets aimlessly taking in the sights the stores, completely unaware of the world of people around them. Then, the Venetians, they have their lives, if you were to allow yourself to get stuck within the crowd a 5 min. walk could take 15 min. this can be a problem when you have appointments; places to go people to see, business to do. So the walkways become an obstacle course as you weave your way through the throngs of tourist many of whom are holding a camera, a gelato or a piece of pizza and of course they are all carrying big travel bags many with backpacks. It is really a dance the Venetian ballet. You cannot do this casually you must be aggressive, strategic, aware of what is happening just in front of you and at the same time looking into the distance anticipating every move of the herd that surrounds you. Imagine being in a major airport late for a connecting flight at prime time during Christmas or worse spring break! Now that you have this image firmly planted in your senses; add umbrellas. We all know, how dangerous umbrellas can be, one can lose an eye! At times the walkways can be only slightly larger than an umbrella and other times not even wide enough to accommodate even one, without tilting it sideways. The Venetians have a system unspoken yet clearly defined, one either raises their umbrella to pass over the oncoming traffic or turns the umbrella at an extreme angle wherein two can pass without running into one another. Now the tourist on the other hand are completely unaware of the system and as I have mentioned unaware period, and still you must do the dance of the tourist with two left feet, an amusing challenge to say the least. When I left my apartment for breakfast in Campo Santa Margerita and then later lunch with Marco and Daviad, my two new jeweler friends. It was really only a slight drizzle, coming from Portland I thought nothing of it and left my umbrella behind, big mistake. Within 15 min. the downpour began and in minutes I was soaked to the bone. Not only is it raining as a monsoon but the temperature is in the 80’s and again the humidity in the 90’s this was my day. Dripping as a wet dog I joined Marco and Daviad for lunch. I had rabbit and caprese salad; I cannot describe the freshness of the food the flavor of the tomatoes. Rarely in America do I get to experience such flavors rich and delicate. These two men have known each other all of their lives; I do not exaggerate here to any degree. They grew up in a small town outside of Venice and played together as children. They still live in this small town and commute to Venice an hour each day to their jewelry shop. Daviad is married to Marcos sister and has one child Marco has two children both men are the same age and are partners in business and life. Normally they spend an hour and a half at lunch today lunch was a 2 and a half hour experience. With minimum English and of course my limited Italian we some how had no problem speaking of a myriad of topics. Women children being men and then skiing. Both are extreme skiers and snowboarders and they look forward to my return to show me the mountains and ski areas. Within only an hour of Venice you can find some of the best skiing in the world. I look forward to this very much. Question is will I be able to keep up with them. But what I look forward to most is Saturday when Marco and I will close the shop for a few hours and jam the blues. But even more they have invited me and Debbie to visit them in their country home for a Tuscan weekend cows sheep goats chickens children good food and love. I later took Ciccio to meet my new friends. Within a few short minutes they close the shop and we go two doors down for coffee and cakes. As we are chatting and snacking Christian walks by, it is unbelievable to me how small this town is, Christian is busy at work so only has time for a brief greeting but now he too has two new friends. The coffee shop two doors down of course knew Marco and Daviad well but not surprising the owner also knows Ciccio. The owner as in most cases in these small cafes is the primary server he joins us in conversation, he is interested in how Ciccio and the other two happen to know each other they explain that I was the one to introduce the new crew. This delighted the shop owner and he assuming that I must be Italian (in the north of Italy there are many who have blue eyes) how else could I know three of his best friends and customers, he looked at me very serious and said these are some of the best people in Venice and you are now very special to me, roughly translated through my limited Italian. However the next morning as I passed his shop he noticed me and yelled out the Venetian call of friendship Ciao Vechhio. It is now evening and I am sitting at a lovely restaurant on the outside promenade over looking Canale S. Marco, I am meeting friends for a Spitz and some dinner. Of course I brought my umbrella this time and naturally there is not a cloud in the sky, regardless I am prepared. There has been some confusion as to our meeting place and so Rosanna calls me, “ Jeff where are you?” “ I am at Al’Giubagio on the Fondamenta Nuove” “No no Jeff we are at…… I will meet you at Larga Callina near Campo SS. Giovanni e’ Paolo it is easy to find” and then she proceeds to give me directions. I always laugh with the ease of which Venetians will give directions thinking I will simply understand and be right there. This time I was lucky and she was right I easily found her and our evening began. We were to be joined by Dianna soon, but we ordered our Spitz and relaxation began. Rosanna was born in Pellestrina a short distance from Venice and yet another world. The people of Pellestrina are historically and I believe still fisherman. They are hard working people, strong and passionate their life is the sea, it has always been so. The families are close each one looking after the other for all of life. You can see in Rosannas’ eyes the deep love for her family and the culture of her home, Pellastrina. After a couple of Spitz I was honored to be invited along with Dianna to Rosannas’ home for a dinner we were to have a special pasta delivered to her by her good friend Biaggio. The pasta is rare and is only made in one small village Biaggio visited while on vacation. The sauce a tomato base with mussels and clams delivered to Rosanna just this morning by her father fresh from the sea. Her home is beautiful unlike any I have visited in Venice. Modern and new tiled throughout decorated with an Asian flair, her home is very Zen, Rosanna has elegant taste. Her home is large by Venice standards and HAS A BATHTUB! A big bathtub rare in Venice. When Rosanna bought this place it was a cave. Over a period of two years while living with her parents the whole family worked together to renovate and build this beautiful home. Needless to say the meal was out of this world! The evening would not have been complete without Dianna. Dianna is 100% Venetian. Generations past her GGGGGrandfather was one of the artist to create the great mosaics of Piazza San Marco. In the next generations one of the GGGGrandfathers created the sirens of Venice one of the Great art pieces in the world, again as with Rosanna her pride in her heritage is evident in every cell in her being, she radiates Venice. She is a light no darkness to be found she wears her heart on her sleeve and when she describes her family she does so with a bit of shyness as she explains that her family life and upbringing was so perfect she is almost embarrassed by it. As we walked through Castello the heart of the real Venice also the neighborhood of the generations of Dianna’s family she shared many stories of family history; My GGGrandfather worked here, my grandfather would stand under this street light and yell three stories up to his then girlfriend my future Grandmother from the street below, “Nona, Nona!” Nona’s father would hear the calls and run down the stairs chasing the young suitor away repeating this scene night after night until persistence prevailed and another chapter in history was born.
As we turned every corner there was some secret courtyard or wall sculpture to share and explain to me. Not only are both of these women natives but they love the history of this city and the culture they both are fortunate to share. Both Rosanna and Dianna are in the business of Venetian history and with their passion and deep understanding of each and every corner this was a very interesting walk indeed. Once arriving at the home of Rosanna we spent the rest of the evening sharing stories of culture, relationships, men, women and work, just another night with the girls. Some things are the same everywhere. At midnight my heart full my mind exploding and my belly very, very full I said goodnight to my home girls. I walked home via Riva dei Sette Martini along the Canale di San Marco. This is the place where many of the visiting yachts are docked. Passing by me along the way groups of the richest of the rich returning to their floating castles after a night of Venice. This was a living fashion show. If you ever wondered as I, who buys the extreme fashion at the highest dollar and where do they wear them? I think they are all here tonight passing by me laughing with ease as if there are no cares in the world full as I of a night in Venice. I stop and take a seat along the canale for a short while, I smoke a cigarette and I watch the show. I continue my journey home through Piazza San Marco walking down Merceria Orologia, passing through S. Salvatore, I cross over the Rialto Bridge walk along Fondamenta del Vin, a very popular tourist strip. a right turn, a left turn and I am home, Campo S. Polo. Stripping from my clothes as quickly as I could I collapse flat on my back without even turning down my sheets. Tomorrow is a long day, I will go to Ferrara an hour and a half train ride to the south and play my guitar on the street under the castle walls.

Out of the Closet

2007-08-22T12:29:00.000-07:00

Jeff, you are so fortunate that your company is in a position to support you in your quest for healing. Not only can they work around your absence, but you're able to afford all this travel.

These are luxuries so few of us can afford. I'd be forever grateful if my employer could support me in the same way (of course, I'd always be worrying that they'd connect the dots and realize that if they could do without me for 4 months, they could do without me!) :-)

I appreciate your comments and I recognize that you comment the most.
I wish I could reply to you.
If you do not identify yourself then I am chained.
Yes I am fortunate.
But I am not employed. My boss did not give me permission my partners sent me away for health reasons.This is not a luxury it is unavoidable.
If any one is interested this trip is on my dime.
Am afraid that there will not be a place for me at my desk when I return? It is the success of a good CEO and business owner that they have built a company that can run without them, again I could not do this without the fantastic crew at at Nia HQ and my loving and supportive partners, however life is not without risks.
If I have not made it clear this trip is about me healing and reconnecting with self. I had lost myself in my job I went 10 years without once picking up my guitar except to realise I had nothing to give. I am not writing this blog
for self gratification. I am writing this blog because people I care about and who care about me asked me to.
I was at first resistant, but there were enough people I respect ask me to do so in such a short period of time that out of respect to them I agreed.
This blog is a huge resposiblity and I spend a tremendous amount of time focused on delivering my experiences in the highest light possible.

I am very happy that I decided to take on this resposiblity I love the creative challenge.Thank you Karri,Alison,Eileen,Latisha.

My Company did not support me in this sabbatical they insisted. This is in all truth an order from the board in effect I am in exile, so I can regain my health and continue to nurture Nia as I have and will continue to.
Am I afraid that my former Job will not be waiting for me, no I am not,I am not without fear, so many things can change in 6 months, maybe my life will not be waiting for me but my business will.
I stand before you and I do my best to speak my truth I am vunerable to the core.
What a luxury you have to watch from a distance with anonymity.
As CEO of the Nia technique I do not have this privledge.

Galactic, if you want to be on the front line in life stand up and be counted.

If you are good at what you do do not be afraid your job will be waiting and if not there will be a new job a new experience waiting for you, and you will be stronger and have so much more to offer,take the time 6 months can be had and you can create a similar experience I assure you. Maybe not as I am but you are not me.
You can lay on the beach in South East Asia for 20.00 dollars a day.
And remember in the end everyone in replaceable.

Jeff, you are so fortunate that your company is in a position to support you in your quest for healing. Not only can they work around your absence, but you're able to afford all this travel.

These are luxuries so few of us can afford. I'd be forever grateful if my employer could support me in the same way (of course, I'd always be worrying that they'd connect the dots and realize that if they could do without me for 4 months, they could do without me!) :-)

Good Luck

2007-08-22T12:27:00.000-07:00

The weather is changing from one day to the next, you can feel fall in the air.
While out on my morning exploration, people I passed, many were wearing jackets and sweaters. Still, by 9:30 it began to warm up and the sweaters and jackets shed once again we will enjoy a beautiful sunny warm day. The scene is also changing here the harbor is beginning to fill with Yachts. These are the Yachts that most of us have only seen in movies or in an advertisements for the glorious life of the rich and famous. I can only imagine where they have come from but they are arriving for the coming two weeks.
Traditionally the first Sunday in September is the day of the Gondola races. Each time I been out on the Lagoon I have been witnessed Gondoliers practicing. They prepare for the race yearlong. This is a very big occasion in Venice; most of the town will be there to cheer them on. I will be thereto both cheer them on and to take pictures. I am already seeking out the best vantage point to capture to event. These Gondolas’ are not the traditional type, they are shaped a bit different but the most significant difference is that they are all brightly painted. I am sure that this will be a very exciting event. The first week in September is also important in that this is the time for the Venice film festival. It is my understanding that this to, is a big event, and that all the stars will be here. The rumor is that in Venice the stars are relaxed and that you will see them all about town mixing it up with the locals. Should be interesting my guess is the Yachts are gathering primarily for the film festival. I will certainly let you know if I have a papparazii moments. It is an interesting sight to see these huge modern boats docked along the Grand Canal. It is an odd perspective the old and the new. It is one thing to see boats of these grand proportions in Miami surrounded by new and modern hotels as well as being confined to marinas but here the boats docked within the city.

I am now off to have lunch with my newest friend Marco. Marco is a jeweler. I stopped by his shop the other day inquiring if he could make me an earring. I have wanted to have a new one made as last year I lost mine when I took it off for a MRI. I have worn an earring off and on since piercing my ear myself in my early teens. I am very picky on what sort of earring I will wear. I like my earring to be simple just a small ring, it is best if it does not have a noticeable clasp of any kind. So in my poor Italian and Marcos poor English we somehow came to an understanding of exactly what it was that I wanted. He agreed to make the earring and said that he could make it while I waited. We agreed on the price of 40 Euros about 55 dollars. As Marco was crafting my new earring we began to discuss music, he was listening to Pearl Jam. He said that this was his favorite American band. I told him that I was also a fan but that I had a friend (Phillip) that was one of the original members of the Pearl Jam fan club. I explained that Phillip grew up in Seattle Washington the town where Pearl Jam got their start and that he was able to watch the band develop and grow from their inception. This excited Marco so much he jumped up put in a bootleg live tape from the early years. He could not believe it he knew someone who knew someone who had seen Pearl Jam so many times and from the beginning in small clubs; he was beside himself. Marco told me that he played guitar and I shared with him that I did as well and instantly any cultural gap was bridged. About this time Marco had finished my earring. I placed it in my ear, it was perfect. The perfect size, 18 carat gold and no visible clasp, just what I wanted. I said thank you Marco and preceded to pay him his 40 Euros, he only accepted 10. So for Fifteen dollars I got the perfect earring and a new friend. I went back the next day with my guitar and played a few songs for Marco, and he played one for me and then invited me come back another day to join him for lunch. He said he had a very special place he wanted to show me. Today is the day. It seems every Venetian I meet knows of a special place.

I had a similar experience in a coin shop. I have always been attracted to antique coins. From time to time stopping into a coin shop for just a browse, although I have given considerable thought to buying a coin on many different occasions, my conservative nature has always over comes my desire and I walk away until the next time the urge overcomes me. Historically I am attracted to Roman coins but this day being in Venice it was Venetian coins I was to explore. I say explore because in the world of antique coins one must have at least a minimum understanding of the history and the points of value for any of the collectables. As it happened I was on a casual stroll and came across an antique coin dealer. I came to find out later this is the only shop of its kind in Venice. As I entered the shop, the shopkeeper an elderly man I guess in his mid seventies was otherwise preoccupied with his back to the door. He sat looking very intently at some sort of a chart his face was literally inches from the chart his eyes squinting through his glasses. He appeared to be so completely engrossed in his examination of the chart that I feared I would startle him if I were to announce myself in anyway. I therefore stood just inside the doorway of his shop and waited patiently until he was less focused, assuming he would then notice me on his own accord. I stood there for a couple of minutes before the gentleman turned toward me, surprised but not startled. He greeted me with a huge grin and a rapid fire of Italian. He spoke so fast that I could not decipher even one word. I apologized that I did not speak Italian well and inquired, did he speak English? He apologized that his English was very poor, but between us we managed to begin a dialogue. I expressed my interest and that I was only curios and not a serious buyer. It was immediately clear that this gentleman was very passionate about his coins. We introduced ourselves and I began my lesson of antique Venetian coins. Alessandro produced a book of coins written in English to help guide as he shared with me coin after coin. He explained that each of the Doges’ produced their own set of coins and therefore one of the issues in determining value was the length of a Doges’ rule. The shorter the rule the fewer the coins. Of course there are the typical value points such as size condition and material used. All of the coins had a unique character and an accompanying story. I spent close to two hours with Alessandro. Finally I chose a coin, not of great significance or value, but I was interested in the coin nonetheless. The reason was because it was metal not silver or gold and therefore not particularly fragile so I could carry it with me as sort of good luck charm. The coin was also interesting to me because it bore the likeness of a lion with wings. It was marked 1777 and was the first coin to not show the Doge with either god or Jesus. The coin was in my price range and I decide I would adopt it as mine. When I told Alessandro that this was my coin of choice he apologized and explained that he only showed me this coin as part of my history lesson. He in fact was saving the coin for a close friend of his that was on holiday and would return in two days and at that time he would purchase the coin. We then began our search for a coin that had all the elements important to me. He produced coin after coin first this coin then the next, however none of them spoke to me. Alessandro finally gave in explaining to me that his friend would most certainly slice his throat for him selling his coveted coin. Regardless we agreed on a price. I then pulled out my wallet presenting him with my credit card to make my purchase. Silly me, you simply do not buy coins with credit cards. I explained that I only had half of the agreed price in cash; now for the surprise. Alessandro told me this is not a problem I could pay him half now and half in two days after he returned from his weekend it was closing time on Saturday and he is closed on Sundays and Mondays. I assumed of course that this would be a deposit and I agreed to leave half down and return in two days pay the balance and retrieve my prize. I gave him the money and he gave me the coin to take with me. I expressed my confusion Alessrando said it was ok, “ I’ll see you in two days.” Shocked, stunned, I took my coin and left the store to continue my afternoon. I no sooner turned the corner than an ATM machine appeared. I took some cash and hurried back to the shop. Alessandro had already closed, I knocked he opened the door and I gave him the remainder of the money. I am carrying my 1777 Venetian coin my pocket, I am sure it will bring me good luck; maybe it already has.

Have you ever really been Experienced?

2007-08-21T06:25:00.000-07:00

It is now 11:30 I sit alone in my apartment. Having just left the hangout the “Cheers of Venice” for the first time I think I am a bit drunk. I think it was the Vodka. I am not used to the cascading developmental process of the inclusion of alcohol in the Venetian lifestyle. Venetians love to drink but for the most part they do so in a moderate and very civilized way. I admit that my own relationship with alcohol is challenged here, time to slow down and get to work. First they begin with a small glass of wine with a late lunch somewhere around 2 in the afternoon and then spitz at 7:30 after the spitz time it is time for dinner with a bit of wine and a grand finale of Grappa or Sambuca. I am used to drinking vodka or wine, rarely do I mix and rarely do I become intoxicated at least not noticeably (I am sure there are those that would disagree but none the less.) Tonight I ended the evening with a nightcap of vodka just one and it put me outside of my comfort zone, tonight I am drunk. The Venetians even have a term for it “wall to wall.” In that many of the walkways are five feet in width or less when you are drunk they say that you bounce from wall to wall. Thankfully I have not experienced this level of intoxication, I think I never will.

I worked today in my apartment for six or seven hours focused on Nia. At 3:30 I left my apartment to go to the Internet station to post my blog and catch up on my emails.
Just as I finished the phone rang it was Ciccio. “Jeff what are you doing?” Do you want to come on the boat for a little while? This is a call to action; I love cruising on the boat. From the boat you see a part of Venice few are privileged to, I also find this very relaxing. We hooked up and joined Christian on the boat taking off to explore the canals of Venice. I find it interesting that even though these guys grew up doing this very thing they still find new canals and places new to them. So off we go exploring and cruising. Once in a while we break out singing the melody of the Indiana Jones theme song these guys love Indiana Jones! We are soon joined by two of Ciccios friends visiting from Paris Eduardo and his lovely girlfriend, Lisa, a Brit, also living in Paris. Eduardo grew up multi cultural one parent from Venice the other Paris. Like many Europeans he speaks three languages. Two fluently and English well enough. I will be happy when I speak Italian as well as he speaks English. The multi cultural exchange is one of the dynamics of Europe that I find exciting and I wonder if we in America will ever embrace a multicultural
Society. How many of us speak Spanish? And how many of us ever will.

After a couple of hours just wandering the canals; as if in unison Ciccio and Christian yell out Venole! Venole is yet another small island in the lagoon it is inhabited by small farms and two restaurants. The first one we approached was closed so we moved on to the second. When we arrived this restaurant also appeared to be closed. Not only did it appear closed but it did not appear to be a restaurant at all it looked more like a small farm, complete with goats, sheep, chickens and geese. I did not see any horses or cows but I assume they were somewhere grazing on the property. I was given and new perspective on the term grazing from my good friend Peco in New York not because she grew up on a farm but because as a New Yorker Peco likes to graze either through the stores or the restaurants or both taking a little nibble here and a little nibble there, you know, grazing the New York way. We dock the boat disembark and approach the farmhouse there were a few people sitting around assumedly family. As we approached a woman greeted us, she looked at us as if she was confused, what are these guys doing here at this time of the evening. We asked her if they were open and could we get some food. She told us that yes they were open and to go around back and she would attend to us momentarily. As we walked around back the restaurant appeared. There was a small patio with tables set for diners, surrounded by lawn that also had tables. On a busy day this restaurant could sit 100 or so customers. Tonight we had the entire restaurant to ourselves. We asked if we could sit out on the lawn, the woman was happy to comply and proceeded to set the outside tables for the five of us. It was as if we were having a Sunday dinner at your mothers’ country house a bit like a picnic.
We had a plate of grilled vegetables Spitz and beer, some cheese, bread and some thinly sliced meats. The sun was setting and I felt that I had the best seat in the house.
After we finished our meal we loaded up in the boat and off we went, back to Venice.
Pulling up to a dock on the edge of Cannaregio one of the seven districts of Venice, we said goodbye to our visiting friends from Paris. They are returning to Paris tomorrow a fleeting yet very enjoyable short visit, friends passing through time.
Christian is in the vacation apartment rental business. He needed to go to the Ghetto of Venice to tend to some clients; he invited me to tag along. I had not been to the Ghetto yet and therefore quickly accepted his invitation. The history in my limited understanding is that in the middle ages the Rialto commercial center was dependant on the Jewish merchants and in particular the Jewish moneylenders who financed ship cargos. For this reason Venice brought together Jews from all over the world. They settled in the tiny Ghetto, which became a center for Jewish culture. The Jews were allowed to come to Venice for money lending activities however they were not allowed permanent residence. The first Jews to be allowed to settle in Venice was in 1385 when the city was involved in a war against Chioggia. Venice needed loans from the Jewish moneylenders to help finance the war. But still the Jews were not integrated into the Venice as citizens. In 1516 under the ruling of Doge Leonardo Loredan the Jews were confined to the Ghetto. The name Ghetto came from the term Getti, the place of foundries. The gates were locked at night and there were restrictions placed on Jewish economic activities. The Jews have lived in the Ghetto to this day even through the hardest of times including the plaque of 1630. It was not until 1797 that Napoleon opened the gates of the Ghetto and gave the Jews of Venice equal rights. Around the years of the mid 1600’s it is believed that the Ghetto housed about 4,000 people in a space that is basically the size of two city blocks.
In that the number of Jews occupying the Ghetto were many and the area that they occupied very small they built their homes sometimes as high as eight stories. The interesting point of this for me is that in the rest of Venice the average ceiling height is 9 to 12 feet.
In the Ghetto the ceilings are often times 8 feet or less and many of the buildings eight stories high. The Ghetto is still populated primarily by Jewish people. And one feels as if you are in a country of it’s own.

Today I was also given a brief history of some of the Palazzo’s along the Grand Canal.
There are Palazzo’s that have been occupied by some of the most influential and romantic characters in history. There is the Palazzo Pisani Gritty, which is now a hotel and at one time the home of Ernest Hemingway. There is the Palazzo Contarini Fasan said to be to have been the home of Desdemona the wife and victim of the jealous moor Othello; as well as the Palazzo that was the home of Lord Byron for his many years in Venice. The list goes on and on however there is one Palazzo that is of particular intrest in Venice it is the Ca’Dario a gothic Palazzo that is said to be the haunted Palazzo of Venice. This is due to a series of sinister events that have befallen many of the owners, most recently the last owner of the Palazzo committed suicide. One of the most influential people in Venice one wonders what could drive such a man to take his own life. I have never been able to understand suicide; life is short enough as it is. I asked this question to Christian “What would drive a man like this to take his own life?” he replied “disgrace.”
I will now close this post with the famous words of Jimi Hendrix “Have you ever really been experienced?” Well Jimi I can honestly say that at this point in my life…. “Well I have.”

A Day Of Healing

2007-08-20T06:34:00.000-07:00

I woke up inspired. I had spent the night in a limbo of sleeplessness. Thinking about Nia and how she and I relate to one another and how we will continue to.
As I often do I walked to Campo Santa Margarita for coffee and a pastry. I sat and began to focus on the ideas that had come to me in the night. I began to write an outline of thoughts, basically the opening statement of my dream, a business plan. I no sooner finish my breakfast and opened my notebook than the phone rings. It is Christian inviting me to join him for a day of relaxation on the boat. I hesitated, as I was inspired and looking forward to a day of solitude and focus, working on my business plan. It was a beautiful day and in that it was to be just him and me and a day of sunshine, just cruising the Lagoon, I decided to join him. As it turned out this was not necessarily contradictory to my plans; this day would not only provide me the solitude to further reflect and refine my inspiration but, was also holding for me more than a few surprises. Christian and I rendezvoused at the canal just outside my apartment. My apartment is located approximately 100 feet northwest of Campo S. Polo just off of the Grand Canal. The canal that is closest to my apartment is Rio di S. Polo. My Apartment is located just a short distance from Rio di S. Polo, through a narrow walkway part of which is a Sotoportego; this is the term used to describe a walkway that is covered by the building above; a sort of tunnel. My address is Riviera Marco Polo 2029. As you pass through the Sotoportego you enter a small courtyard maybe 60 feet by 60 feet on one side of which is canal. There are stone steps that descend or depending ascends from the canal, there are four steps they are six feet wide. It was already 12:pm the sun was high in the sky and already very hot the temperature in the 80’s and humid. With a supply of water and sunscreen we were off to destinations unknown. After an hour or so of simply cruising the Lagoon Christian suggested that we explore one of the many abandoned islands that are scattered about the Lagoon. I am not sure how many of these islands exist but they seem to be everywhere. Some were at one time Military instillations others monasteries, some have been used over the centuries to quarantine the sick, dying from some communal disease. The Island we were to explore today is one of the largest and is very close to Venice. Upon it is a very large building and two smaller ones. The largest of the buildings has a beautiful tower built in classic Venetian style constructed of brick. It is maybe 8 stories high with an outstanding spiral top also made of brick, topped off with the traditional cross. This would imply that there is a church buried here in the overgrown and in some places crumbling buildings. It was Christians hope that we could find the church, he had explored this island before and had yet to find the church; we had a mission. The buildings are surrounded by a chain link fence with signs attached warning anyone that might have thoughts to enter, not to do so. Of course this was of no concern to us as the little explorer in all of us was very much alive this day, in Christian and I. We therefore searched the perimeter for access to enter our afternoon playground. Not surprising after a short search we found evidence of explorers who had come before us; a small hole in the fence. Not really a hole that would be too easy, it was really just a cut in the fence maybe two feet high. Christian the good explorer that he is pulled out his explorer tool and we made a few additional cuts in the fence and in we went.
I felt as if I was 13 again as we explored the buildings room-to-room and climbing stairs that appeared as if the could fall at any moment. We held on to the railings and climbed up the stairs as close the wall as possible. These stairs are all free standing in that the only support for the stairs is the stairs themselves; stacked one on top of the other and anchored into the wall; they are all made of stone. At one point I asked Christian “what is the history of this place,” he explained that this island was used as the sanitarium. Immediately my mood changes from one of innocent exploration to that of a deep remembering and reflection. The reason for this is that I spent the last of my teenage years committed to a mental institution in Ashville North Carolina; Highland hospital. Not because I was crazy but because my parents were lost, afraid and confused as to how to manage my exuberance and my deep level of discontent. I had been using heroin for sometime and as a result I became very sick, I had been living on the streets. When I became sick my peers took me to my parents house literally dropped me off on their doorstep, rang the door bell and ran. The next thing I knew I woke up on the psychiatric ward of Miami general hospital destined to live out the rest of my teens in a more permanent institution; I was then transferred to Highland hospital. The building we were exploring became at that time a whole new experience.
There were the remains of the beds lying about. They were made of steel, and very small. The rooms were also small, you could see where the solitary confinement was and also identify the rooms that were shared my as many as six. As I wandered through this ruin of memories I was able to create yet another closure of the pain of my time spent in a place such as this, my wounds once again opening allowing the poison of the darkness of those days flow from my heart. This was at the same time a painful and a healing experience. There are no accidents as the purpose of this journey of mine is healing.
I could hear the hearts beating of those who spent untold days weeks and years here. It was easy for me to slightly close my eyes and see the activities of daily life in this place of limbo for the lost and wounded of Venice many years ago. There was the laundry the kitchen the common rooms and a courtyard where I imagined those who were
Manageable were able to be outside still in confinement but outside nonetheless. We had to create our own pathway into this place through the thorns of the berry bushes, my legs stinging with the pricks of the thorns. As we decided it time to leave, reluctant to retrace our steps we searched for an alternate route. At this time we were in the entry hall of the institution and we had just discovered the office of the head official. I decided that we should simply climb the fence and escape. This was not an easy feat as the fence was not well anchored and therefore very flimsy. I climbed up too the second story above the fence, finding a board sufficient in length to bridge the fence to the ground below I placed the board securely. Using this makeshift bridge we escaped to freedom. Recreating my historical escape from Highland hospital. Once escaping Highland and again on the streets and back to my old ways of substance abuse and bad company I hitchhiked back to Miami. I went to the Doctor who originally committed me Dr. David Pinowski and ask him if I could be readmitted under his care. At seventeen I was at least wise enough to recognize that should I continue on my path of self-destruction that I would have little chance for a life of any joy and productivity and most likely I would end up dead.
The rest of our day was spent boating from place to place. We went to the sea through a channel where the waves were large enough and the current strong so that wave after wave breached the bow raining seawater upon us. I had tied a rope anchored on each side of the bow of the boat. I used this rope to grip to keep me from being thrown backwards.
It was important for me to sit on the bow so I could balance out the flat bottom boat.
I held on to my reigns and welcome with glee the spray of the sea and the pounding of the waves. Once reaching the sea we turned around and moving with the current we surfed the waves back into the Lagoon. An exuberating experience to say the least.
We had yet one more stop. Christian wanted to show me the fort. The fort is built on an island at the entrance of the lagoon and is one of the reasons that Venice was able to survive centuries of attack from hopeful conquers from distant lands.
The fort is still very well defined, intack. You can see where the guns were placed just above sea level in openings just large enough for the barrel of the cannons to thunder forth the iron balls of destruction directly at the water line of the invading ships.
The entrance of the lagoon is very narrow at this point and so therefore difficult for any of an attacking fleet to pass unharmed. As with any self-respecting fort there needs to be a look out point. As we docked the boat and entered the fort we went immediately to the lookout point. From there you can see most of Venice. We sat in silence for quite sometime taking in the view, coincidently there were cruise ships of gigantic proportions leaving Venice continuing their journeys to other ports around the Mediterranean and Adriatic seas. This is really an impressive sight from any vantage point but from the lookout of the fort of Venice we had the best seat in the house.
Thank you Christian for a wonderful day full of healing remembering history and friendship. Molto grazie vecchio.

Gypsies

2007-08-19T06:45:00.000-07:00

Gypsies are eternal
The quest for a free spirit
A universal part of the human condition
I sit, in now my sacred Campo Santa Margarita
Blessed with a vision into my past
Traveling street musicians
Two young women
Strumming guitar
Singing as a chant
As if in a trance
Oh my lord return me to my heart
Lighten my soul
Guide me until I can see

To be Noble

2007-08-19T06:42:00.000-07:00

Lost in the Distance
Drowning in the past
Spending my nights in a dream of now
Now as a question
As rhetorical as it as it may seem
Today appropriate for me
To be or not to be
As the stanza continues
Whether it is nobler
Herein lies the quicksand of my soul
Tell me what is noble
Does it exist
Has it ever
If so was it lost
Was this a concept
Romanticized through time
In the beginning to be noble was to have a horse
Not to carry ones family or toil the fields
But to travel too distant lands only to return
A hero with blood on ones hands
Carrying the lessons learned
The spoils and the riches of another’s dreams
Left in the dust to be reborn
Today I look in the mirror
With no reflection found
I look though into the distance
Of a man not found
Noble or not
Humbled
And standing on shaking ground.

Sunrise In Venice

2007-08-17T10:53:00.000-07:00

My favorite time in Venice is early morning. Waking up before the sunrises I quickly gather my camera and hit the streets. I plan my morning excursions by looking at the map
Of Venice, I chose a section of the city I have yet to explore. Walking quickly and directly; as directly as possible in Venice (this in itself can be a huge challenge) I arrive in the general vicinity of the unexplored territory put away my map and proceed to do my best to get lost. At this time of the day the light of the city is at it’s most beautiful. This is the time when the sun is beginning to rise and the scattered streetlights are still lit. The streets are empty and the silence is tangible. Slowly the city comes alive, opening shutters, sounds of the morning dialogues of family life echoing to the streets below. Occasionally music serenades me on my journey and the church bells begin to ring. The music of choice this time of day is mostly classical; Maria Callas is a big favorite in Venice as is Vivaldi. Many of the windows in Venice have flower boxes and this is the time that you will see the caretakers watering their private gardens. As the sun rises and the street lamps shut down for the day the real life of the city comes alive. Venice has no cars everything must be transported via carts. The most common are made of aluminum measuring approximately 5 feet in length 3 feet wide and 3 feet in depth. These carts have two long handles two large wheels and two small wheels in the back to help the carrier navigate the many steps of the bridges that cover the canals. The carts are constructed as cages perforated with holes large enough to lighten the load and small enough to contain whatever is being transported in the cart. This time of the morning the cargo is most often garbage. Contrary to popular belief Venice is a very clean city compared to the all the cities I have ever been in, certainly cleaner that Portland Oregon, where I currently live. The reason for this is that at sunrise an army of street cleaners invade the streets, gathering the garbage sacks placed outside the doors and picking up the refuse left behind the day before mostly I suspect by the tourist they then sweep with a hand broom the walkways. I do not know for sure but it would not surprise me based on the cleanliness of the city if every walkway is cleaned and swept daily. This time of morning it is not uncommon to encounter a 3 foot wide cart full of garbage being pulled by a young girl so slight in build one wonders how she finds the strength to carry such a load. In that many of the walkways are but 4 to 5 feet in width you must turn around and find a doorway or intersection to step aside an allow the driver and cart to pass. The carts are taken to a canal where the garbage barge awaits. After the garbage is cleared the supply barges begin to appear. Some are loaded completely with vegetables others groceries water and goods destined to fill the stores. Again carts are the vehicles of transportation of the goods from the barges to their finial destinations. The streets are now beginning to fill with shop keepers many of whom pull behind them large suitcases filled with merchandise. Stores begin to open, first the cafes filling with early risers having coffee and pastries. For the most part the patrons at this time of the morning are locals. They stand either at the crowed counter or stand about with coffee in hand eating their pastry quickly before rushing off to work. This is one part of the day in Venice where ones does not move slowly. Breakfast is quick and simple. Now the tourists begin to fill the cafes. This is the group that will take a seat and relax as they plan their day. The days are hot and humid in Venice this time of year, by the time I arrive back at my apartment at 9 or 9:30 I am a puddle of sweat my clothes damp and my body ready for a shower. After this morning of exploration, I spent a couple of hours playing my guitar, an hour of meditation and then writing. I am now sitting at my favorite café in Campo Santa Margarita it is 2:30 in the afternoon and I am having a lunch of panini and bruschette. I have no plans for the rest of the day or evening, we will see I am on Venice time.

The Touch Of A Mans Soul

2007-08-16T09:35:00.001-07:00

The Touch Of A Mans Soul:
As a young man I had the opportunity to do quite a bit of traveling. My father was in the Air Force this meant that we moved quite often. The joke was that sometimes we did not even get to unpack in fact this happened, as I recall, there were a couple of times where we did not. All of this moving made me very dependant on my family. I had no neighborhood to call my own and therefore no old buddies to grow up with to share the passages of youth. Of course this provided me with many opportunities to build character. One would think that this would help me develop a heighten sense of independence. For much of my life I was convinced that this was the case. However I now understand that my independent personally did not come naturally to me. I learned to be so as a survival tool so never truly becoming so. This has at times put me in compromising positions. So hungry to belong I have in some situations in my life sold my soul a great cost to belong. All the while convinced that there was no one more independent than I. This is one of the biggest lies of my life. Nothing can kill the human spirit faster than living a lie. As I was growing up I had two sisters one four years my elder the other six. I remember as a young boy spending as much time with my sisters as they would allow. I believe this is where I developed my deep appreciation of women. It is a wonder that I did not end up gay; many factors could have contributed to this outcome. I do not profess to understand the dynamics of homosexuality and I am sure that there are as many as there are individuals.
However an overbearing and abusive father along with my over dependence on my sisters, Mother, and all of their friends could have easily made it so. I remember sitting I my sister’s room watching them comb each other’s hair, preening each other in the mirror, talking of things of an intimate nature that I have never experienced in any male culture.
Not to say it does not exist it just has not been my experience. Men I have known do not do this, we do not touch each other. In fact it was just a few years ago that a Nia man named Saffire cured me of this resistance to being hugged or even touched. For many years I would not even allow myself the pleasure of a massage, as it was too intimate for my comfort level. Thank you Saffire. I still have not graduated to mutual preening or intimate conversations and perhaps never will, however one never knows the end of the story, now do we? This is ok because of the men I know within my immediate community however small it may be I would be looked upon as strange, to most I am strange enough.
Two nights ago I was once again honored and privileged to be the guest at a gathering of old time Venetian friends, a new Crew. This was to be the birthday party of Diego. Diego was to turn thirty this night and 25 or so of his closest friends were coming together for food laughter and wine. We all met in Campo S. Roma where we were to be picked up and transported via Venetian limousines. In Venice as in all cities there are taxies, town cars and limos, the only difference is in Venice they are all boats. It took three Limos to transport Diego’s crew. As we gathered in the Campo and waited for the Limos to arrive there was no hesitation among any of the Crew to introduce themselves to me and to make me feel as if I was one of them, no questions as to why I a stranger was there. I later found out from Ciccio that for the most part the Crew thought I was Gay, none of them were, this group was a very machismo group of Italian men. This was not a first for me but it is certainly not a common assumption for me to be thought a Gay man. They were disappointed to find out I was not gay because as a finale to the evening we were to go to a disco on Lido beach where we were to have a private section complete with security and a hosted bar. The Crew was hoping I was Gay because I could then be the Girl catcher. Loading up into our individual boats our first destination was a restaurant on a very small island, two restaurants, two families, and one Church, said to be of the oldest in Venice. Of course the restaurants specialty was fish. Diego is in the restaurant business and a native Venetian, he knows his restaurants. Again the food was out of this world. Our meal was five courses, accompanied by the appropriate wine we drank and dined and laughed until my jaws hurt from laughter and the entire Crew was filled beyond satisfaction. Squid, Crab, Shrimp, Lobster, fish unrecognizable to me but all was delicious. We finished with the traditional Sgroppino, Lemoncello, and then Champagne. Twenty-five men one long table and an evening of love and intimacy I have never experienced. I assure you none of these men have ever heard of Iron John. That said these men were not hesitant in any way to hug each other, touch each other; at one point I noticed the gentleman sitting next to me resting his hand on the thigh of his fratello as naturally as my sisters combing each others hair. They took turns putting insect repellent on one another laughing and showing their affection for one another in all ways other than any of a sexual nature. This was as natural to them as eating drinking and sleeping. The term is Vecchio, ciao vecchio, vecchio means old friend. After we finish our meal/experience and a thousand toasts we were then off to Lido and the disco party on the beach. We loaded up into our Limousines and of we went. Upon arrival at the Disco on the beach we were wrist banded and escorted to our “section.” The beach disco was decorated with huge Illuminated planters 4 feet high and 3 feet wide. These planters were the primary lighting of the scene. There were giant beds everywhere, where people lounged when not dancing. Here everyone dances if not lounging on the beds filled with pillows. Our Crew however was not interested in the scene. Only a few of them shyly hoping to meet up with some new girl. The discussion was how does a man meet a girl in such a place. I told them, ridiculous so, in that I have never had much luck in these situations meeting girls, “ the secret is to talk to them” they all laughed thinking it had to be much more complicated. I told them I would make them a bet and that we should ask the very beautiful Janna our bartender her opinion, her reply, “ Just talk to them.” Again they all laughed I won the bet and they then all began to challenge each other to give the new system a try. Remember these are men ranging in age from 30 to 60. Some things are the same everywhere and never change. Forgetting about the girls the Crew spent most of the time in puppy piles laughing drinking, relaxed beyond relaxed. I remember at one point I was off to the side laying on a bed of pillows of my own and three of the Crew came and jumped on me as if we were adolescence jumping on our Mom and Dads bed. Although the Crew was not much for dancing this evening, as this was not what this party was about I am not one to sit still when the beat is on. Taking off my shoes and rolling up my pants I danced alone in the crowded beach disco upon the sand until almost dawn. My phone began to buzz in my pocket. Ciccio had been trying to call me and find me for over a half an hour, “hurry Jeff we are waiting for you.” I ran to the dock and boarded the last of our party boats transporting us back to Venice. As I stood next to the driver of the boat the wind blowing my face the skyline of Venice just beginning to show signs of the sun rising over whelmed once again with the magic of the evening I began a private chant and my soul began to cry; I am letting go of the pain in my body, I am letting go of the pain in my heart; I am letting go of the pain in my body, I am letting go of the pain in my heart; I am letting go of the pain in my body, I am letting go of the pain in my heart; Over and over again until we reached the dock along side my apartment saying good night to my new friends, Ciao Vecchio with kisses and hugs all around.

A Simple Man

2007-08-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

I am really a simple man:

This is my second Sunday in Venice and marks my seventh day. Once again the days activities are focused on the water. As I described earlier my first Sunday upon my arrival I was to spend the day on the boat with the “Crew.” In my attempt to describe this first Sunday I gave you a brief description of all those who make up the Crew. After a week here I have spent more time with these wonderful people who have welcomed me with such generosity. I will now attempt to describe in more detail who I have come to know. I will introduce them in order of my introductions, with a better understanding an appreciation of the blessing of the very special gift of being “albeit temporarily” apart of “The Crew.” First there is Ciccio (Francisco.) Ciccio is the salt of the earth quick to laugh and a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. Ciccio is the organizer the nucleus of the crew “Il Capitiano. With Ciccio what you see is what you get. He is relaxed and at peace with himself, no drama no mystery just Ciccio, warm and romantic his love of life and his joy is in seeing and experiencing every last morsel the day can bring. Ciccio, you “blow my mind” and fill my heart. Next there is Luca di Luce. I have given Luca this nickname, as he is most often the one who sits on the bow of the boat holding a flashlight both acting as a beacon and at the same time an illuminator. Luca is the crew philosopher knowledgeable on any subject he is laid back and gifted in the art of conjecture. With his ever-present sigarillo he reminds me of a sailor, I joke with him and call him Popeye. Roughly shaven sandals and rolled up pants as if he is expecting the tides of Venice to over flow the walkways at any moment. Mara is the girlfriend of Luca di Luce. A classic Italian beauty her smile is infectious she radiates an inner beauty; her eyes sparkle with a peace and confidence that is unique and very pleasant to be around. Mara has an elegant spirit, complex and simple at the same time. Rachele is the other of the two women of the crew; she is the girlfriend of Ciccio “Il Captaino.” I remember seeing her standing on the dock as we in the boat pulled along side. In a summer dress she was stunning I felt like I was peering into looking glass, I was very pleasantly surprised to learn that she was joining us as she confidently boarded the boat, boldly introducing herself, Rachele. Rachele is also very beautiful in a classic Italian style. Her eyes are deep and dark as the lagoon on a moonless night, it is as if you can see into her soul, she smiles and there seems to be a knowing deeper than she lets on. Rachele flirts with life. When she looks at Ciccio it is with a look that would make any man jealous. Her love is precious and at the same time she is strong. Rachele is the quiet one she would prefer to have a café or spitz with one or two friends than party with a crowd. I can imagine spending an afternoon with Rachele together sitting in nature letting hours pass as not a word is spoken. She has an independent and passionate spirit. Christian is a very handsome man he dresses well, he always wears a beautiful shirt that appears to be tailored for his broad shoulders and slim waist that is just beginning too show evidence of maturing. He jokes that he must sit in a certain way as to not let the evidence of time be exposed. I tell him to “Suck it Up” and demonstrate with my own experience of such things, as I am twenty years his senior. Christian is a navigator of life. A businessman he makes things happen. Although very handsome and charming with his boyish and somewhat mischievous smile he is unavailable to the beauties of Venice as he is forever loyal to his girlfriend who lives in Spain. They speak with each other no less than twice a day.
Last but certainly not least and without whom the crew would not be complete is Manuel. A strong man both in body and spirit I was surprised when he and I first stood next to one another close enough that I could realize that he was not taller than me. Manuel has a huge spirit. He is an artist a photographer. His nickname is Gato (cat) fitting for Manuel, as he is somewhat cautious in nature. He appears to sit on the sidelines always looking and seeing as if he is looking for the perfect angle the perfect perspective to take a picture to record a moment in time. Manuels’ face is mature he is an old soul his smile reflects an understanding of life beyond his years. For now this is the “Crew.”
As I begin this my second Sunday and my seventh day, I am first to join the family of Isacco. This includes Francesco the father of Isacco and Francesca, the beautiful Francesca, Isaccos’ girlfriend. Isacco and Francesca met in Portland she an exchange student and Isacco a dual resident of Venezia as well as Portland. He was raised by an American mother and an Italian father. Moving to the United States only a few years ago with his multi-cultural upbringing, Isacco can very easily move from one culture to another. In the United States one would never guess Isacco is completely Venetian and completely American at the same time. Passionate and artistic Isacco is enthusiastic about everything. He quickly becomes the life of the party. But be careful Isacco just might sell you the shirt off of your own back but he will just as quickly give you his. But as many who are supremely talented Isacco carries with him a cloud of discontent, he suffers with the gift of too many choices. I love him very much and in one short year of being friends I cannot imagine the world without Isacco. Isacco is a mirror of my youth and I could be the vision of his future our karma runs deep. Francesca comes from Ivera in the Piemonte region. Ivera is famous for the annual orange fight. This tradition is centuries old the township takes up teams and proceed to turn the entire town into a large vat of orange juice, as the oranges become the projectiles that are thrown, as I understand very aggressively at the opposing teams. How the winning team is decided I do not know, however when this annual event comes to a close the town is covered in crushed oranges and the bruises of the wounded are worn as badges of honor. Francesca is a sweet woman, she is also very beautiful. I tell her she is of the most beautiful woman in the world. There is a certain innocence in her spirit but do not let this fool you she is wise beyond her years. Francesco the father of Isacco is a big teddy bear of a man. A great philosopher and lover of art Francesco is third generation Venetian, he clearly loves this city and is proud to share with you his passion for the history as well as his opinions of the best restaurants and cafés in the city. He is a fantastic cook, if I felt it not an imposition I would show up for dinner every night. Francesco is a traditional man and although the stepfather of Isacco is love for his son is very deep he looks at him with a sparkle in his eyes and a pain in his heart as Isacco is of the most important gifts of his life. He is a father any son would be blessed to have. When I am with the two of them my heartaches for the father I never knew. Francesco chose this my second Sunday to take the four of us via the family boat to a restaurant located on the Island of Pellestrina a 45 minute boat ride with Isacco our Capitiano. Getting an early start around 10:30 we navigate the waters of the lagoon passing fellow Venetians off to points unknown or not, simply just cruising the lagoon. We are now in fishing country the majority of the boats we see at the passing docks are fishing boats rigged for shrimp or squid. The houses are simple yet many of them a brightly painted red, yellow, blue or green. The Italians take great pride in expressing themselves and they do so with a certain artistic flair. They dress beautifully. One may have only one shirt but when worn it is perfectly ironed as if bought only yesterday. We pass a series of fishing houses built upon pilings situated in the Lagoon surrounded only by water. Perched 8 to 12 feet above the water they appear to have been there forever. Weathered walls draped with fishing nets, one can imagine that one strong wave or wind would blow them over and they would crumble into the sea the debris floating away to extinction. Finally we arrive at our destination accessible only by boat “Celeste” is the name of the restaurant. It is built upon a terrace covered by a blue awning situated directly on the sea it is a platform anchored to the sea wall and surrounding pilings it floats upon the water. Unpretentious and simple is the décor the restaurant is populated primarily by large families and the occasional small group such as ourselves. Again there are no tourist here other than I. Francesco asked me what I would like to eat I reply “ are you kidding I will eat at your suggestion, sono con te (I am with you.) First we have prosecco a basket of bread pretzels and Aqua Mineale. Very soon our first course arrives; a plate of white polenta with an edge of sauce I guess is a mixture of butter and olive oil. The polenta is covered with the smallest shrimp I have ever seen. Taken back at first, as they were the size of maggots. Not wanting to be culturally insensitive and knowing that some cultures do in fact eat maggots I refrained from asking my host Francesco what I have been served. Francesco explained that this dish is a delicacy of very small shrimp from the lagoon, Schie. Thankful that my cultural sensitivity was not to be challenged at least not at this dish, famished I devoured course number one. The delicacy of the flavor I am unable to describe it is sufficient to say, “ It blew my mind.” I could have stopped right there and ordered yet two more servings of the same dish and been quite satisfied, but the best was yet to come. Our next course, of course, began with yet another caraffa of prosecco. We were then served a dish of crab “Granseola” served in the shell that was turned upside down and filled with the most delicious crab mixture I have ever experienced, we then had a generous bowl of mussels and then our meal was finished with another caraffa of prosecco and Pasticcio di Pesce. This dish is similar to lasagna, but not as I am familiar. This dish is prepared with four layers of pasta filled with a mixture of different fish, besciamella, covered with cheese and baked individually to perfection. Finally we were on to the grand finale “ Sgroppino” a desert that is unique to Venice. It is served in a small glass, limoncello, shaved ice and prosecco, think of the best lemon smoothie you can imagine. Sgroppino means not literally I am sure but nonetheless it is the “clearer of the meal.” I can attest that it works very well to this end and I was thankful for the sound of the boat motor and the wind as the Sgroppino did its job in clearing. This completed our lunch but not our day. We were off to S. Erasmo for a swim. First we stopped off at Lido to gather Caroline the cousin of Isacco and her young son Danial. Then we were off to swim. S. Erasmo is one of the most popular gathering places for Venetians on the weekends. They come to gather clams, play on the beach and to commune with family and friends. This was my second time to visit this beach located on an Island in the largo. Again no tourist here other than me, standing out like a beacon with my white skin and my orange surfer shorts I must admit I felt a bit of a spectacle. After our time to relax and swim on S. Erasmo we were off to Venice ending part one of my second Sunday in Venice. Upon returning to my apartment I quickly showered and dressed in my Sunday best with my finest perfectly ironed white shirt because I was to meet up with the crew at the Cheers of Venice. I was the last to arrive and as quickly as I did Manuel placed a spitz in my hand, part two of my second Sunday in Venice had begun. Ciccio had made arrangements for a “very special” dinner at he restaurant of a friend again accessible only by boat. In Venice this almost certainly excludes tourist. Threatened by rain and in that the evening was moving into the night they all decided to chose another “very special restaurant.” As we all load into the boat we are joined by two new crew members. Valentina, Ciccios’ sister a stunning beauty who is visiting from Milan. There is a familiarity about Valentina, we quickly and easily become friends. And now I must introduce Serge the Russian Italian. Serge moved to Venice as a student many years ago. You would never guess he was not a native. I think it would take a team of wild horses to drag Serge kicking and screaming from his adopted Venice. I believe he could be the reincarnation of Casanova himself, funny warm and very charming with a keen eye for the women. Serge is very helpful to me with cultural understanding and language development. So off we go to our new destination decided by the crew and as Ciccio says “a very special Restaurant.” I imagine that Ciccio does little that is not “very special.” We navigate the canals arriving at our destination we tie up to the wall, disembark and of we go. The restaurant is on the second floor and quite frankly I am surprised, the restaurant is upscale and is not of Venice. Other than the Crew and the most amazing Pizza I have had to date. This restaurant could be in Soho, hip disco atmosphere, blue lights and black furniture with glass tables. We pass through the restaurant greeted by the owner as old friends ( I do not know if any of the Crew knows this man I believe he greets all of his guest in this manner) we settle on the terrace. The terrace is paved in white marble, the tables are candle lit and covered with white linen. Soon the wine begins to flow. I have bought in private two bottles of the best red from the region. Inexpensive and yet very impressive to the Crew and me. Manuel asks me “Jeff why do you do this, buy the wine.” I explain it is my way to both honor and give appreciation to my new friends. He nods in acceptance we toast laugh and eat. We are now joined by a new addition to our Sunday adventure a friend of Christians, Michela.
Charming and yet a bit shy Michela is of the lucky few who live in a Palace on the Grand Canal. Once we have finished with our meal it is now time to sit and relax. Grappa, conjecture, cultural exchange and funny stories past. Once again it is time for us to move on. The Crew wants to share with me one of the most unique experiences of Venice. This is to pass under the lowest of bridges in the city. These passageways actually pass under a church and are low enough that the boat can barely pass through them. We must all lie down in order to pass. With no light and the engine silenced we are certainly transported to another time. As we emerge on the other side we surprise a boat with lovers. Thinking they were most definitely in one of the most private corners of Venice they were making love. We very respectfully pass without comment and as little notice as possible. Then it was time to end our evening. Two in the morning we cruise the Grand Canal to Piazza San Marco, we dock the boat. As we step over a neighboring boat we climb the marble railings of the sea wall and enter one of the most famous Piazzas’ in the world. All of the tourists have gone home, only one bar remains open, it is Martini time. This is the first time I have seen any of the Crew drinking hard alcohol, Mohitos, Cosmos, and for me Absolut on the rocks no garnish. Disco music fills the air. We dance or at least I dance moved by the surreal experience of mixing culture, all in the majestic imposing time warp of Piazza San Marco.
This brings to an end the second Sunday in Venice for a simple man.

My next challenge is to capture last night’s experience.
Stay tuned; more to come.
Ciao.

Romance

2007-08-12T01:25:00.000-07:00

It is said that Venice is of the most romantic cities in the world, magically built upon the sea. It is as if the city is floating and rocking with the tides. Canals lined with walkways paved centuries ago with stone carved from the Dolomites transported via carts pulled by mules led by men some of who spent their entire life committed to this one task of paving the muddy walkways of Venice. Growing from a village of fishermen to a great port that was to become a gateway, a portal for different cultures, artisans, merchants alike to come together and exchange products, services, ideas and dreams. Venice was the beginning of the East and the end of the West; the end of the East and the beginning of the West. Everywhere you look you can see the evidence of dreams long past. Moorish arches Roman statues centries of co-creation have made Venice a world of its own. Once one of the richest cities in history; it has survived centuries of death and re-birth. Numerous times Venice has faced extinction; invasion from the Turks, the Germans the French, you could not build an empire if it did not include Venice. Plagues have reduced the population to a skeleton of it’s former self to be rebuilt by the next generation of Venetians building on a foundation of crumbling stone filling once again the canals that move through the city like the veins of a body with the richness of human desire. Streetlights are few in Venice. At night it appears as if Illuminated by candles, a warm soft glow easy on the eyes, flattering to the complexion, and an inspiration to the soul. Small cafes appear as if from nowhere the smells of fish and garlic, linen covered tables lit by candles relaxed almost reverent are the patrons as is the service respectful and comfortable. In Venice you are never rushed you always have to ask for your check. There is never any pressure to move on and make room for the next customer you feel as if you are the center of the universe. The Campos are the living rooms of Venice; gathering places for lovers, friends’ family, a playground for the children. Street musicians are abundant as are artist camping out to sell their creations. This city is certainly unique however I think of similarities to all the rest of the world. New York had vast immigrations of people risking all coming from all of Europe and beyond seeking opportunity to build a life fleeing oppression of all kinds. Hong Kong, Paris, Rome, St. Louis, everywhere you go you can see the reflections of the passion of the human spirit. The desire for a better life a vehicle for expression of artistic vision, love, power. The human spirit knows no bounds, not of country, religion or culture. Venice is romantic it is true. But for me romance is not a person, place or thing it is a piece of my soul a way of seeing and understanding and an appreciation of the gift of love and of life. This being the case you need not come to Venice to find romance nor do you need a lover with whom you act out an idea or image or to create an experience. You only need to see a butterfly or to sit on top of a Ferris wheel and a connection to self a knowing that romance is apart of your spirit or it is not at all.

Penne Pomodoro alla Jeff

2007-08-12T01:23:00.000-07:00

The Secret Of The Sauce
Is in the foundation. First you crush the garlic and then chop into small pieces, not minced but fine. Then you sauté over a small flame very slowly, in olive oil, until it turns a rich golden color. When the garlic is perfect you add basil. The basil must be chopped very fine. Be careful not to burn the basil you only cook the garlic with the basil long enough for the flavors to marry. As the garlic is simmering and after the basil is minced you prepare the tomatoes. If you have not yet opened the wine now is the time. The cook must be in proper form for a truly authentic preparation of the Salsa Pomodoro. First a sip for you then one for the tomatoes. It is of great importance that the tomatoes you use are ripe, flavorful and full of juice. If you cannot find tomatoes that fit this description cook something else. Because preparing pomodoro without the perfect tomatoes and fresh basil is a waste of you time. The true test of the perfect tomato is that it must be crushable. This also is very important; you must ever cut chop or slice the tomatoes with any foreign object you must crush them with your hands the juice flowing through your fingers and the skin easily separating. Continue this process of crushing the tomatoes or should I say massaging the tomatoes until you reach the delicate balance of pulp, juice and skin. Sometimes it may be necessary to discard a bit of the skin, but be careful not to remove too much of the skin. This is important in that basil cannot be the only part of the meal that can become lodged between the teeth. When the tomatoes have reached this certain point of perfection the garlic and the basil should be close to a state suitable to receive the perfectly prepared tomatoes. At this time you then pour the crushed tomatoes into the foundation of garlic and basil; stirring gently you pour a healthy dose of red wine preferably Chianti into the mixture. The only thing left to do is to gently place four basil leaves on the surface of the masterpiece and let simmer to perfection. From this point in the preparation DO NOT STIR the sauce I repeat do not stir for at least fifteen minutes. After this fifteen minute period of blending of the ingredients it is necessary to gently stir only occasionally for approximately one hour. Remember it is important not to stir the sauce for at least fifteen minutes after you have placed the four pieces of basil on the surface of the simmering sauce.
The next step in the preparation of sauce is to figure out how to serve the perfection to ten of your newest friends in a one-room apartment of only five hundred square feet. The answer of course is to use the courtyard. Three times the size of the apartment, courtyard is open to the sky, the ground covered with paving stones of granite placed eight hundred years past. The courtyard must have a fountain and a portion covered by the building above supported by fluted columns made of stone. This is very important in the case that the sky decides to water the fields, and the flowers thereby inadvertently putting a damper on your masterpiece of pomodoro and your ten newest friends. The courtyard must be lit by candles. A minimum of thirty-seven candles is necessary to create the perfect ambiance a balance of romantic and festive. You will need to have on hand the ingredients for spitzers to serve your friends as a before dinner aperitif; white wine aqua minerale, Select and a squeeze of lemon. Be certain that you have enough wine on hand to shower your ten newest friends with abundance and the generosity of heart. You will need two large baguettes one half pound of the finest parmesan of the region a caprese salad made with fresh mozzarella some live music provided by the neighborhood troubadours Nello, Manuele, and Aldo. Your pomodoro is now complete enjoy!
Oh, I almost forgot do not forget the penne and a generous supply of Limoncello for desert. If you are of the fortunate few one of your ten newest friends will bring a special bottle of Cream of Lemoncello prepared for special occasions by her favorite aunt who lives in the near by countryside.
You now have the secret receipt of Penne Pomodoro alla Jeff.

Penne Pomodoro Alla Jeff

2007-08-11T01:36:00.000-07:00

The Secret Of The Sauce
Is in the foundation. First you crush the garlic and then chop into small pieces, not minced but fine. Then you sauté over a small flame very slowly, in olive oil, until it turns a rich golden color. When the garlic is perfect you add basil. The basil must be chopped very fine. Be careful not to burn the basil you only cook the garlic with the basil long enough for the flavors to marry. As the garlic is simmering and after the basil is minced you prepare the tomatoes. If you have not yet opened the wine now is the time. The cook must be in proper form for a truly authentic preparation of the Salsa Pomodoro. First a sip for you then one for the tomatoes. It is of great importance that the tomatoes you use are ripe, flavorful and full of juice. If you cannot find tomatoes that fit this description cook something else. Because preparing pomodoro without the perfect tomatoes and fresh basil is a waste of you time. The true test of the perfect tomato is that it must be crushable. This also is very important; you must ever cut chop or slice the tomatoes with any foreign object you must crush them with your hands the juice flowing through your fingers and the skin easily separating. Continue this process of crushing the tomatoes or should I say massaging the tomatoes until you reach the delicate balance of pulp, juice and skin. Sometimes it may be necessary to discard a bit of the skin, but be careful not to remove too much of the skin. This is important in that basil cannot be the only part of the meal that can become lodged between the teeth. When the tomatoes have reached this certain point of perfection the garlic and the basil should be close to a state suitable to receive the perfectly prepared tomatoes. At this time you then pour the crushed tomatoes into the foundation of garlic and basil; stirring gently you pour a healthy dose of red wine preferably Chianti into the mixture. The only thing left to do is to gently place four basil leaves on the surface of the masterpiece and let simmer to perfection. From this point in the preparation DO NOT STIR the sauce I repeat do not stir for at least fifteen minutes. After this fifteen minute period of blending of the ingredients it is necessary to gently stir only occasionally for approximately one hour. Remember it is important not to stir the sauce for at least fifteen minutes after you have placed the four pieces of basil on the surface of the simmering sauce.
The next step in the preparation of sauce is to figure out how to serve the perfection to ten of your newest friends in a one-room apartment of only five hundred square feet. The answer of course is to use the courtyard. Three times the size of the apartment, courtyard is open to the sky, the ground covered with paving stones of granite placed eight hundred years past. The courtyard must have a fountain and a portion covered by the building above supported by fluted columns made of stone. This is very important in the case that the sky decides to water the fields, and the flowers thereby inadvertently putting a damper on your masterpiece of pomodoro and your ten newest friends. The courtyard must be lit by candles. A minimum of thirty-seven candles is necessary to create the perfect ambiance a balance of romantic and festive. You will need to have on hand the ingredients for spitzers to serve your friends as a before dinner aperitif; white wine aqua minerale, Select and a squeeze of lemon. Be certain that you have enough wine on hand to shower your ten newest friends with abundance and the generosity of heart. You will need two large baguettes one half pound of the finest parmesan of the region a caprese salad made with fresh mozzarella some live music provided by the neighborhood troubadours Nello, Manuele, and Aldo. Your pomodoro is now complete enjoy!
Oh, I almost forgot do not forget the penne and a generous supply of Limoncello for desert. If you are of the fortunate few one of your ten newest friends will bring a special bottle of Cream of Lemoncello prepared for special occasions by her favorite aunt who lives in the nearby countryside.
You now have the secret receipt of Penne Pomodoro alla Jeff.

Il Momento e' Ora

2007-08-09T10:05:00.000-07:00

If you would like to hear my Italian Love song you can @

myspace.com/stuartmusicart

Singing in the Rain

2007-08-09T09:51:00.000-07:00

We huddled under just two umbrellas three of the six of us squished together the rain falling so hard that my clothes were as soaked as they could possibly be, almost as if there were no umbrella to shelter us. Earlier I had noticed that Bruno and Barbara both had umbrellas with them I thought this was odd as the evening sky was as blue as the sea and not a cloud in the sky. We met casually in a square filled with Venetians at spritzer hour. Ciccio and I had just rendezvoused at the Rialto fish market planning to have a quick drink and then to go our separate ways having separate plans for the evening. Ciccio’s girlfriend of eight years was working late and was too tired to join us so this left just he and I. It was of course 7:30 the traditional spritzer time.
We went to a bar that was bordering a nearby Campo, Campo Pescana. This bar has no name and no seats only two baristas serving spritzers and a variety of Panini’s to a quickly gathering crowd. We were of the first ones to arrive. By the time we had our second round Pepe and Franco our baristas had their hands full as the crowd had grown to at least 200. The Campo was not crowded but in that it is quite large the 200 or so people easily moved about greeting one another. This is the ritual of the Venetians throughout the city, Ciccio seems to know every other person we encounter, Ciao Ciccio is a very common phrase in Venice.
The two of us joined three women Barbara and her two friends. Soon Bruno became apart of our little impromptu party. Ciccio and Barbara and her friends are private tour guides they speak English well and our conversations quickly moved to the history of Venice.
It was clear that they all love this city and are happy to share their knowledge. I was of course soaking all of it up, as the history of Venice is so rich, I find I cannot get enough. Remember that at one time Venice was one of the capitols of the world, this was yet another private showing of the deep and fascinating history of Venice. Bruno is also in the tour business he owns and operates tour boats. We drank and told stories for hours. Until finally we decided that it was time to eat. Our quick drink had grown to an evening. Of course a debate of where they should take me ensued and I am not sure who had the winning suggestion but we were soon off to the restaurant. Each restaurant has a dish that is the foundation of their reputation, this particular restaurants special dish was a spaghetti con frutti di mare, we were not disappointed. When we were finished I assumed that it would be time for us to say goodnight, but I am still new to the culture of Venice and of course the night as still young, it was of great importance that I met Enrico. Enrico owns one of the bars along the only street in Venice one could view as a main street. It is the main connection to the train station. Enrico’s bar is in the heart of the tourist area.
By this time we are on to Aqua di Venezia and a small dessert. Tourist were dancing in the bar and on the street not many but the casualness of the celebration was infectious.
This is not a bar as we in America are accustomed to. It looks more like a coffee shop or a pastry shop, no disco lights no waitress’s just people hanging out. After quite some time once again thinking it would be a good night to my new friends I was wrong, as if in unison everyone agreed that we needed go to yet another place to continue our little impromptu party. At this point I am becoming a bit tired but not being one to miss a moment I was happy to not be a party pooper. So off we go, not down the street or around the corner but basically across town. Almost the moment we began our journey
It began to rain, not a sprinkle but a monsoon. Think of a mid west flash flood of a rain. Rain drops the size of pennies. Now I understood why the umbrellas. Apparently this time of year in Venice these storms can surprise you at any moment, they can go as quickly. Laughing and huddled together we continued our trek to our next experience.

Now we are back into our neighborhood. There are no streetlights and the darkness of the night with the thick cloud cover that was dumping this monsoon upon us made it difficult to see where we were going. However we navigate the streets as if we were homing pigeons, laughing and stumbling in the dark we began to sing, “ I’m singing in the rain.” The rain pounding the stone pavement along side the canal was so thick that it appeared as if the canal and the walkway were one. Then as if by magic a door opened for us and we entered Café Paridisio, the hangout of the hood. The bar was closed and yet a group of about twenty were gathered. By this time it is 2 am. A woman at the bar asked me who I was and questioned me as to why I was in this bar. She told me this is not a tourist bar so I could not be a tourist, “this bar” she said “is the heart of Venice” and these are the best people in the world, you are very lucky to be here because here we are like a family.” Little did she know she had just spoken to me one of the most important words in any language, family, and I was now ordained Venetian. It was 3:30 before I stumbled into my bed full of life, love and Venice.

ll Momento e' Ora

2007-08-08T09:33:00.000-07:00

Today I am thinking about time.
Being in Venice I sense that there is no relationship to time.
I feel I am in a time warp, so I wonder is there time.
Is it a measure of space that can be left behind or found to be in spirit in mind?
A place for memories a place for plans.
Here now a measure of existence and dreams of what is lost or will be gained.
It cannot be possessed, I have the time? Can I do without judgment therefore without pain of that forgotten of that not yet realized.
Life not measured only a reflection of the heart filled with that gathered lost or left behind. Present past future there is nothing other than my mind and my heart and the souvenirs, lessons of a fragile destiny a dance with circumstance a dance with that, I am committed to. Committed to be there for you for me for a shared experience to build to share to live out our agreements from what, another time? The time is now.
Almost twenty years ago I wrote a love song for my niece. It was to be a present for her on her wedding day. I will say that this gift went without notice and certainly without appreciation, probably it was not a song that fit with who she and her husband were, are.
Basically they did not like the song. No big deal it came from my heart and in that I had no money to speak of that could be spent on a present of any consequence my idea was that I would spend the “time” and speak my heart and give them “my time.” Maybe this was a bit self serving but in the moment my view of what I had not to give, was my motivator to reach inside and speak of how I might feel at the time of commitment and love as I stood before God and family, looking my future, the rest of time in the reflection of my other self in my own eyes.
Later as a joke I translated the song with the help of my good friend Roberto into Italian.
Roberto is no more, again only a memory a placeholder a souvenir of a time gone by.
This song has become a completely different experience than originally expected.
I played this song for the brother of my new friend Ciccio. Just a laugh that I could sing in Italian. Ciccio’s brother Guiseppe is to be married in a week. As fate would have it Guiseppe and his new bride Alessandra love this song and will dance to it as the first dance of their lives together. Who knew that 20 years ago I would write a song that would patiently await for the moment that it could come alive and be apart of the destiny of two only just born with no consciousness of what was to come in another time.
The name of the song is “The Time Is Now”
Il momento è ora
I am honored to have, to be apart of their dream.
Buona Fortuna Giuseppe and Alessandra. Your time is now.
Il momento è ora

And thank you my dear old friend Roberto for your part in touching the lives of these
Young loves lost in the time of their lives. I miss you.

Day One In Venice

2007-08-07T08:57:00.000-07:00

I am sitting by the canal outside of my apartment. Last night I was sitting here playing guitar thinking I was alone when I finished a man put his head out of his dark window and told me do not quit we enjoy very much! My first fan in Venice!

I am rested now and I feel grounded in Venice. I have explored most of San Polo the neighborhood where my apartment is located. I do my exploration early in the morning as once the tourist hit the streets the city becomes overwhelmed with the tourist vibe. Navigating the narrow alleyways with tourist stopping at will and completely unaware that there are others on the planet can be difficult and a bit frustrating so I have taken to exploring early morning and working in the afternoon when it is crowded and hot.

In my last post Act One Scene One “ Jeff in Venice” I had just met with Ciccio my new friend. Ciccio is my landlord. He went beyond and above the call of duty by picking me up and helping me pack all my bags to the apartment. But beyond this he invited me to join him and his friends for what I was to find out was a typical Sunday in Venice.
Ciccio has an old wooden boat very Venetian, a small motor and all open, this is a fishing boat I the classic style. We took off in the boat on an all day excursion that began by going through the canals to pick up the crew of Ciccio.
First we picked up Luca and Mara. They met us at a predetermined spot along one of the canals. Pulling up to the sea wall Luca and Mara climbed over the railing and into the boat.
This is not an experience for short skirts and street shoes. We introduced ourselves and then we were off to pick up Ciccio’s girlfriend Rachele. To get the picture of this experience you need understand that all the while we are navigating the back canals of Venice, some of them so narrow that we must cut the engine and pull the boat through by using our hands to pull us through the narrowest of narrow. Every destination is an event taking at least 15 to 30 minutes. Our destination I find out is the Lido. The Lido is where the Venetians play and relax on Sunday. There is an island in the Lido that has a small outdoor restaurant where friends and families meet to drink eat play swim gather clams for the evening meal, I was privileged to not only witness but experience the life of the Venetian. I was introduced around and welcomed as if I was an old returning friend. Later Christian and Manual, two more of the Ciccio crew, joined us. We had a lunch of Venetian specialty foods many not even I had experienced. I say this because of my years in Rome I believed I knew Italian food well. I was wrong, all of the dishes were made with fish, anchovies, sardines, mussels, clams, we washed the our lunch with white wine and then as desert Aqua di Venetia, Grappa with a bit of espresso. Lot’s of grappa and little espresso. We lay on the beach talking of life and dreams. The conversation was light and yet at the same time we were not making small talk. I am not much for small talk. I was welcomed to the heart of Venice by my new friends, I felt like family they welcomed my so warmly. Next we were off to find a place to go swimming away from the crowd. Ciccio had an idea of a place he wanted to show me, this created a huge debate, although in Italian I could understand most of what was said, Ciccio where are you going? No no that is not the best place go, go to the point there the water is clear and deep, No, no that is not the best place let’s go to the canal, we can anchor and jump from the boat, all the while Mara laughing and Rachele rolling her eyes and looking at me like do you believe these guys….. Pazzo. I could care a less I was having the time of my life, suspended in time another world one rarely seen my outsiders. The crew were are all in their mid thirties and have known each other most of their lives. Deep history and culture.
Ciccio the leader and entertainer laughing all the time in his gruff voice as he tosses his head back his eyes sparkle, Luca the intellectual and Christian the mover and shaker and then Manuel the laid back artist laughing and smiling all the time a man of few words just happy to be alive and with his friends. The girls Mara and Rachele joining in when ever it became a stale mate in debate “Ciccio what’s wrong with right here stop the boat let’s go swimming.” We ended up getting grounded and having to jump into the water to push the boat forward and off of the sand bar. We then tied up to a private dock, making ourselves at home we climbed up and onto the dock and all together (me in my underwear, I did not bring my suit) running the length of the dock shouting“ Famalo! ( my first new word of the day meaning let’s do it) We could have been 13 years old the scene and the vibe not changed. These men and their girlfriends have been doing this very thing on Sundays all of their lives. Jumping into the water laughing and playing. We were then confronted by the caretaker of the Island of the dock we had tied to; he came to tell us that we were trespassing that this Island was no longer public but it had been bought recently. Just then a stunning beauty with a huge Rottweiller leading the way appeared. At the same time a private limo boat pulled up to the dock and three very distinguished people in their late sixties disembarked walking pass us dripping wet and me in my underwear, “ Buona Sera” as they passed. “ Buona Sera Senora” we all but bowed our heads, we did not know who these people were but we knew; they are the nobility of Venice. They had just bought a public island that had a huge villa on it and a park that was famous; in fact the park was to be our destination after our swim. Mysterious elegant and a view into the secret world of Venetian life. This was the day I spent with my new friends, a view of Venice few outsiders ever see. I was then told that we would go to town and hit some wine bars and snack our way through the evening. Remember that we are on an open fishing boat; top speed 5 knots every destination a twenty-minute journey. As we rode on into the next stage of the day my first evening in Venice, we all laid about the boat, in silence, nothing to be said everything as it should be good friends warm sun the sound of the water, the engine, and Venice our view. Then as before a debate began Ciccio let’s go to Pulano, No, someone else wanted to go to Murano. Pulano, Murano, Pulano, Murano. They decided on Murano. Murano is famous for glass “Murano glass.” Murano was perfect, it was clean and the building looked as if they were built yesterday. It was if I was transported to another time. There were no tourist on Murano. On Sunday the shops are closed and therefore no reason for the tour boats to deliver the tourist dollars, we had the town to ourselves. Finding a bar along a canal we sat to partake in yet another Venetian tradition at 7:30 every night it is Spitzer time. There are three choices bitter mild and sweet this is a wine drink with soda and a splash of one of the three afore mentioned additives too appeal to every taste.
Sitting at this bar there really was no separation between now and as it always has been, electricity seemed out or place.
I could not help think that there really is time travel on this planet; you only need to hang out with Ciccio and crew for one day to understand this.
Murano was one of several stops of kind we made over the course of the night. I kept wondering where were the crowds the tourist; this city is packed with tourist, crowded to the point of being frenzy. But not here there is a secret Venice and I was living it.
My new friends welcomed me as if I was a returning brother who had traveled to a far away land. None of this escaped me, drinking it all in and meeting them with all of my spirit, I moved into Venice and into their life. My first day, transported to another time one that is precious, I could not help but think that how civilized this way of life is. No rushing no stress just good friends good food music drink and time to talk about the sun. It was now night as we moved though the canals. At night one of us must take the job of being the beacon you do this by holding a flash light pointing forward and then every boat must sound the horn as you approach any intersection, Oyo Oyo Oyo we would all shout out with exuberance and amusement this growing after each stop along with our level of intoxication. Interesting, you really do not get too intoxicated in Venice when you are bar hopping this way remember it takes up to un mezzo ora to get from bar to bar. Our day was ending we pulled over to let Christian off the boat as he jumped onto a barge tied to another barge and another.
Pulling himself up to barge number one he jumped from barge to barge finally climbing the sea wall to the street above, Ciao Christian see you tomorrow.
Finally I was home overwhelmed by my experience I cried, thank you God I then fell exhausted into my bed and slept like a baby. End of Day One.
Act One Scene Two.

Venice Act One

2007-08-06T10:08:00.002-07:00

I have arrived!
My flight was uneventful; the most amusing part of the flight was for any one watching me try to manage two guitars and six pieces of luggage. This is virtually impossible. I had two of those luggage carts that you rent at baggage claim the problem is that due to the size and shape of these carts and the fact that I had them over loaded the guitars posing an addition challenge in that they are difficult to load in the conventional stack the block method. Being in a non-option position I moved forward as creatively as I could. I asked a couple of American teenage boys traveling with their parents if they would help me push one of the carts 50 feet to the exit, they refused. So I was left to do this on my own. The only way was to move the carts was one at a time. This was a scary proposition in that the luggage was loaded with technical equipment valuable and hard to replace and certainly loosing any part of my system would have thwarted all my well laid plans. Picture the denseness of a mosh pit at a punk rock concert. I only had to move 15 feet and my other cart was out of sight. So I did this staging thing, really quite funny thinking about, I would move one cart (A) forward 10 feet and then go back and retrieve the other cart (B) and move it 20 feet. I continued this leapfrog approach until I finally made it to the exit door. Here was my last challenge: how could I move a cart through the door and not go trough myself? Remember this is coming out of customs once you have exited you cannot return. Once again I asked for help and was turned down. Completely out of ideas I just stood there at the door staring ahead. Finally a couple of people moved thought the automatic exit doors and as they did I took a leap of faith and pushed one of the carts forward so I would roll on through to the other side on it’s own and then I could grab the remaining cart and voila I would be through! There was one small problem, in my excitement I forgot the automatic braking system on these carts and as soon as I pushed the cart forward a let go of the handle to send it rolling on it’s own on through to Italy and Venice it stopped, I was stuck.
Are any of you laughing yet? You should be, Hollywood made a whole genre of movies called slapstick capitalizing on foolish situations such as this. At the time I was becoming pretty darn frustrated but now I can look back and get a good laugh of my own out of the scene. Finally the security guard took pity on me and helped me get the carts through, a hero and just in the nick of time, I am sure.
Well I was through and that is all that mattered. As soon as I did in fact pass through I saw my driver, tour guide and soon to become my new best friend Ciccio with his sign held high over his head, STUART!! It was official I had arrived.
Once Ciccio and I introduced ourselves we were off to find a taxi one big enough to hold all of the luggage, that done we loaded up and were off. But not before a number of taxi drivers gathered around asking to see my guitars. I obliged and was immediately tagged a rock star. No matter how many times Cicco and I told them that I was not a rock star in fact far from it they would not believe us. Now for the best part. The driver who did not speak a word of English kept blurting out names of guitar players and their guitar of choice, every time I would say yes he was right he would give me a big smile followed with a big high five.
He then got out his Cd collection and began to show it off to me each time again looking for some acknowledgment of our camaraderie through the world of rock and roll. The best part was when he pulled out the Supertramp album from the late seventies “Breakfast in America” (One of my favorite albums of all time) and proceeded to sing with the lead in his non English, every word surprising close considering he (Nico) could not speak a word of English. Inspired I joined along with him and the two of us serenaded Ciccio with our out of tune loud as we could sing voices all the way into Venice, I had made my first friend. I think he invited me home to meet the wife and kids but we were in a hurry and my Italian is still quite rusty so I just let that one go. Act one Scene One Jeff arrives in Venice.
Act Two to Follow.
You will have to wait until tomorrow as I am exhausted and must get some rest, Act two went well into the night of my first day, “A Sunday in Venice.”

Venice

2007-08-06T10:08:00.001-07:00