tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90646547814406253732024-03-05T11:52:39.069+05:30Open Letter to ...My chance to fill in that "dot-dot-dot" with somebody, something, somewhere, etc. that needs to hear what I've got to say.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-78443467436342419252013-03-16T11:08:00.001+05:302013-03-16T13:54:07.844+05:30Dear Benjamin Franklin,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As you know, I've always had a bit of man-crush on you. You're the quintessential</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Jack-of-all-trades. Inventor, statesman, postmaster, printer...the list goes on. But this isn't my typical love letter, Benjamin Franklin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Today I'm sitting in a Master's course and we're talking about leadership. Specifically, we're talking about your list of virtues and how you used them to guide you through life. As the story goes, you read your list every day to remind you of how to live life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And when our professor asked us to sit down and list our virtues, I was faced head-on with the task of taking stock in the things I'm supposed to believe in. So Benjamin Franklin, here's a list. I'm sure that it will change over time, and that it might not be all-inclusive, but it meant enough to me to encourage my first letter since May of last year, so here it is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>MY VIRTUES</u></span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Be Faithful to Family. Always keep in mind the needs of family members and strive to meet them.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wonder. Always take time to appreciate the awesomeness of life and the world around me.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Grow. Always continue to change and evolve by leaving my comfort zone.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Follow Passion. Seek that which ignites your passion and actively pursue it.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Celebrate. Remember that life is precious and every day is a gift.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Explore. The world is a big place with much to offer. Find it.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Learn. Make mistakes, ask questions.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Share. Bring others into your life and share its bounty.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Give Thanks. Recognize the generosity of others.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Apologize. When you fail yourself or others, take responsibility and seek to make things right.</span></li>
<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Play. Have fun with life.</span></li>
</span></ul>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Benjamin Franklin, you worked on each of your virtues one week at a time and by your own admission fell short of meeting them but you hoped that they would serve as an example to your friends and family. Not a bad plan, I think.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: left;">Poor Richardly Yours,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">jason</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-1951728587104733452012-05-05T12:17:00.001+05:302012-05-07T08:10:57.897+05:30Dear MCA,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thank you so much for everything you've done. It's hard to express exactly how important you've been to me, but I'll do my best to explain it to you.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My earliest memories of you were from 1986 when you were acting like a crazy person on MTV. As a ten-year-old boy, your beer guzzling, tv set sledge-hammering and pie fights from the (You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party!) video were AWESOME. Also, I'm not sure if it was your idea, but nice use of two sets of parentheses in one title! I remember making a dub of the Licensed to Ill tape, complete with a photocopied cover and liner notes. Sitting in my bedroom, on the bus, mowing the lawn, wherever my walkman would take me, there I was, memorizing the lyrics to Paul Revere.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then, we took a break. I moved away from your shenanigans and into a phase that I'll just call "The Dark Times." I'm not sayin' that I listened to Poison, and I'm not sayin' that I didn't. I'm just sayin'. MCA, I'm sorry I stopped listening to you. I'm also sorry that I had to retroactively discover the musical masterpiece that was Paul's Boutique. I was only 12! I had no idea that a revolution in music was happening. What did I know about samples? What I did know about hip-hop? During that time I had shifted from "The Dark Times" into various other phases including punk and hardcore. Ironically, that's what brought me back to you. Your own roots. Sometime in high school, I was loaned a copy of Check Your Head and my life changed. Beastie Boys replaced U2 as my "favorite band ever" and again I had a dubbed version of your tape (I had not yet made the transition to CDs in 1992). It was the first time I experimented with negative space as I used a black sharpie background to leave Beastie Boys and the album title behind in white in an attempt to replicate the graffiti-style typeface of the cover (no photocopies this time). </span><br />
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MCA, without any exaggeration, this album changed everything I thought about music(and more). I worked as hard as I could in a pre-interenet world to learn everything about you and your band. Your genesis as a hardcore band of teens in New York City exposed me to the exciting world of the big city. Your transition from a bunch of dopey idiots to a sophisticated 3 piece with instrumentals, huge hip-hop beats and samples was inspiring. But best of all, this album rocked. When I got to college, and my roommate had a CD player, this was the first CD I bought. It was quickly followed by Paul's Boutique (sorry it took so long for me to hear that one!) and Licensed to Ill. When you dropped Ill Communication and Sabotage, you solidified your place in my heart. The 10 minutes that we were allowed to make noise during finals, the glass shook as we slid in that disc and turned it all the way up. On my first trip to Washington DC (you know, the one where I realized that I didn't have to live in Wisconsin for the rest of my life?), I found this in used CD store.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My very first bootleg. To be honest, at the time I had no idea what a bootleg even was. I did know that I was staring at Beastie(Beasty?) Boys CD that had tracks on it that I had never heard before. That, and the fact that it was $30. I'm not sure if you remember the time when $30 was a lot of money MCA, but I spent an eternity in that store before I spent the dough. I'm also pretty sure I skipped dinner that night.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">3 years later, the internet had been born and everything was different again. Sitting in the office of my summer job with a tape deck connected to a computer, we "downloaded" the new tracks from Hello Nasty in the build up to my most eagerly awaited album release of all time. And yes, MCA, we did leave work to go to the store and buy it the minute it came out. The videos from that album basically inspired everything that I did creatively for about three years. And that summer, when I saw you live in Minneapolis from the second row of your revolving stage - bliss.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Since then, you've released so many albums, I've bought them all, including almost every side project, special edition and more. I've moved to Korea and Bangladesh and India and every time I travel to a new place, I alway stop in record stores to see if there are Beastie Boys special editions. How many Japanese discs did I come home with after my second trip to Japan? 8? 9?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The time that you took a hiatus from the band and went "to find yourself" snowboarding in the Himalayas is in the back of my mind every time I cut a long slow line down a mountain and is a major inspiration for my eventual trip to Gulmarg.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The thing about your band, MCA, is the fact that it's so much more than a rap group, or a even a band really. When I heard the news that we lost you to cancer this morning, I grieved your loss. Not just as an inspiration, but almost as a friend. So much in fact, that my friends have recognized it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My loss. It's everyone's loss. Then I started thinking about it. Why are the Beasties so important to me? The Beasties represent so much. Positive growth, change over time, reinvention, maturity to name just a few things. You continued to evolve and grow, but you always went back to the basics. You stayed true to your roots and you always stood up for what you believed in.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And now you're gone. And you were only 47. And you'll be missed. Rest in peace, MCA.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm just interested in the B-Boys,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">jason </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"I don't see things quite the same as I used to. As I live my life, I've got just me to be true to." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">~Stand Together, Check Your Head</span></div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-74163733343970912772012-04-11T15:20:00.000+05:302012-04-11T15:25:03.723+05:30Dear Culinary Reawakening of Ireland,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thank you so much for happening in the last ten years, Culinary
Reawakening of Ireland. We are certainly glad that you had taken place before
we visited you for the first time last week. Your homeland has always been
known as a verdantly green place, and we certainly saw evidence of that as we
drove through the delightful areas of the Connemara and Dingle Peninsulas, and
the Rings of Kerry and Skellig. What we didn't realize, was that Ireland is
also gastronomically very green as well! We loved the fresh approach to local
ingredients, genetically unmodified food and modern approach to traditional
classics.</div>
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Culinary Reawakening of Ireland, you need to do a better job
of letting people know that you've happened. We were expecting the standard
Irish fare: Guinness Stews, Shepard's Pies, Corned Beef and Cabbage. What we
found far outshone our expectations. You have taken the traditional Irish
cuisine and applied fresh, new twists that don't corrupt the old recipes. You
have insisted upon the highest standards of quality for your ingredients and
people don't know about it! It's insanity. Everyone should know that if they
are traveling to Ireland, they should expect to eat farm to fork produce, meat
and more!</div>
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Potatoes/schmotatoes. Let the world know you have taken
place Culinary Reawakening of Ireland! Sing it from the Cliffs of Moher and
Blarney Castle. Ring the bells of St. Patrick's Cathedral. Tell U2 to write a
song about it. I've certainly been singing your praises, but I don't have the
gift of song that Bono does. Instead, I will list my favorite meals, starting with
this one.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV2GTTryi4v9UOAOv5TIJiNN7xXYDjdaANCz8gs27tub2hHJK9DuHZ0P1zR44KT4OU1jRyWgDWG422E7SHO3-l-IhyskLdpLzZLWX3juUOpNEmffGOO_ht6YbOgdzAtm11LZkEAT1IQEhV/s1600/DSC_3884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV2GTTryi4v9UOAOv5TIJiNN7xXYDjdaANCz8gs27tub2hHJK9DuHZ0P1zR44KT4OU1jRyWgDWG422E7SHO3-l-IhyskLdpLzZLWX3juUOpNEmffGOO_ht6YbOgdzAtm11LZkEAT1IQEhV/s200/DSC_3884.jpg" width="156" /></a></div>
<i><a href="http://www.ashesbar.ie/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Ashes
Pub and Restaurant</span></a> - Dingle City: </i>Crab & Prawn Dumpling with
Salad, Sweet Chili & Lime for me and Smoked Salmon Rolls for her. Served of
course, with Whole Grain Soda Bread. This was the most unexpected culinary
experience of our entire trip. The food was outstanding, the service was
incredible and the meal appeared on our table in what seemed like no time at
all. All of this in a normal pub. Other restaurants on the street claimed
fancier menus, but it must just be because they are insecure in the presence of
such greatness.<br />
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<i><a href="http://www.thehairylemon.ie/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">The Hairy Lemon</span></a> - Dublin:</i> Seafood Chowder
(creamy potato & dill soup with fresh fish, mussels & soda bread) and
Bangers & Mash (award winning pork & leek sausages, pan fried, served
on champ potatoes with a red wine jus) for me. These were easily the best
sausages I've ever eaten in my life and by the way, hello leeks. Prepare
yourselves to become a bigger part of my future eating experiences. For her,
Traditional Irish Stew (slow cooked stew of lamb, potatoes, carrots, celery,
onions & fresh herbs served with baked potato & soda bread).</div>
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<i><a href="http://www.vaughans.ie/restaurant.htm" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Vaughan's Anchor Inn</span></a> -
Liscannor: </i>Leg of Lamb served with various root mash for me and Sautéed
Scallops, tomato, chickpea and red pepper ragout and fresh basil for her. This
was also a lovely accident, thinking we were stopping at some tourist trap
until we opened the menu.</div>
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<i><a href="http://www.thelaurelspub.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">The Laurels Pub</span></a> - Killarney: </i>For me, a
Tureen of Mussels poached in white wine and finished with a Tomato & Basil
Sauce. These were not the only mussels we ate in Ireland, but they were by far
the best. Culinary Reawakening of Ireland, thanks for bringing mussels and
oysters back with a delicious vengeance. She had the Roast Half Duck with an
orange & Apricot Glaze served with roasted sweet potato wedges & Mixed
vegetables, because, why wouldn't she?</div>
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<i><a href="http://www.dunneandcrescenzi.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Dunne and Crescenzi</span></a> -
Dublin: </i>It began with the Antipasto Misto. A platter of cold Italian
Salami, Parma Ham, garnished with Cheese, Olives, Roasted Peppers and Italian
Preserves, served with bread. Then for me, it was a homemade Tagliatelle with
Spiced Italian Sausage. For her, Gnocchi with an Irish lamb ragu. Culinary
Reawakening of Ireland, this is your fell swoop, isn't it? An Irish-Italian
(just like her) restaurant that combines Protected Destination of Origin
Italian ingredients and farm-fresh Irish lamb!</div>
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I could go on all day Culinary Reawakening of Ireland, but I
think I've proven my point. You are good for Ireland, you are good for our
stomachs and you are most definitely good fodder for this blog.</div>
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Well-fed,</div>
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jason</div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-67519285472270729162012-03-10T10:14:00.001+05:302012-03-11T18:49:16.534+05:30Dear Gary Bjorklund Half Marathon,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well, it finally looks like it's going to happen. I'm going to run you, Gary Bjorklund Half Marathon. I may not have won one of your 6,000 spots for runners, but I've found an even better way. I'm running with the American Cancer Society's Team DetermiNation. So not only can I conquer my personal goal of running a half marathon, but I also get to raise money for a great cause.<br />
<br />
Buy why you, Gary Bjorklund Half Marathon?<br />
<br />
Well, you'd have to go back to my childhood. Grandma's Marathon was a big deal for Duluth. Thousands of extra people coming to town once a year, packing Canal Park, eating spaghetti. Those were vivid images. My mom tells stories of us giving water to the racers on London Road and me charming rich, old ladies to let us into their mansions to get more water from them. In those days, I knew the marathon was a big deal, but I never thought about running in it.<br />
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Flash forward to seventh grade, the day I went out for the cross-country team. Distance running? Sounds fun, I thought. I left the gym with the other runners, ran to the corner and sat down on a stump and waited for everyone to come back. For the time, I decided that I was no runner.<br />
<br />
Flash forward again, to 1999. I add "Run a Marathon" to a list of life goals.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT31hgNKpC50RMhl5Ms0NZKj9Frn3l-xVL-xMtwqAh4N_vGb-rAZdcpGKdkXNA_2AVFo8_ezy0s987cwP4vfyNGwM51BZUNq2r5K19eyDiksqyFvDAGNVc_e9dT6jVlpHbJzVUlXL_NVda/s1600/Photo+on+2012-03-10+at+09.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT31hgNKpC50RMhl5Ms0NZKj9Frn3l-xVL-xMtwqAh4N_vGb-rAZdcpGKdkXNA_2AVFo8_ezy0s987cwP4vfyNGwM51BZUNq2r5K19eyDiksqyFvDAGNVc_e9dT6jVlpHbJzVUlXL_NVda/s320/Photo+on+2012-03-10+at+09.50.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Since then, I've checked off almost everything on that list. Gary Bjorklund Half Marathon, you're the next logical step.<br />
<br />
Flash forward again 12 more years and I bought a house in Minnesota. Round about the time the marathon was happening. All of those images from my childhood came flooding back. Why not run the following summer, when I'd be a resident of Minnesota once again?<br />
<br />
Things run in circles, Gary Bjorklund Half Marathon. I'm coming home and I'm running.<br />
<br />
In-training,<br />
jason<br />
<br />
<a href="http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/DetermiNation/DNFY11MW?px=26773115&pg=personal&fr_id=42091" target="_blank">ps. Go here to help me raise the money for my race! It's for the American Cancer Society.</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-67407764168749271882011-12-13T20:58:00.000+05:302011-12-13T20:58:52.434+05:30Dear Miscreants,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Please do not try to mislead me by dropping some currency notes. And please, don't tell <i>me</i> that my money has fallen down. I know better than that. Miscreants may be rampant in Chennai, but I'm from Delhi. We're wise to your game. We've seen it all before.<br />
<br />
I enjoyed myself last weekend; my middle school girls soccer team played well in their tournament. But please-dropping some currency notes? And trying to tell me that my money has fallen down!? Give me a break! Like I would let you steal my valise from right under my nose. It would never happen.<br />
<br />
The warm climes of tropical Chennai might lull some into a hazy blur, but not us Delhites. Miscreants are a dime a dozen up here, my friends. We will not be misled.<br />
<br />
Your jig is up,<br />
jason<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJCMvgnZiGQ9SHziUBMQnFrxDGdNevNluYAt81MFE1tgeKCLvWFX_Oy7utafE57g7Y4m_RC1FBn9CEhdvCNT2V2mcGnIu6mUPHHyp_tFVbXDXbIvEIHWmKZk1aH1ScQMOKBKN70uoL1eB/s1600/DSC_1228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJCMvgnZiGQ9SHziUBMQnFrxDGdNevNluYAt81MFE1tgeKCLvWFX_Oy7utafE57g7Y4m_RC1FBn9CEhdvCNT2V2mcGnIu6mUPHHyp_tFVbXDXbIvEIHWmKZk1aH1ScQMOKBKN70uoL1eB/s320/DSC_1228.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqRTzJ_yeQgvTVYRqyL0O_UDPZqd2mKj8gtfAguLTD8gMxXZot_1PD8yK56p-hBCJdTnIiat9rlTBV1Zj4SE6R6xUx41x64NHoI_jLqkxJpxL_6fqQv-mpQglKbzXWMKPPbKzvgz6JxiY/s1600/DSC_1231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqRTzJ_yeQgvTVYRqyL0O_UDPZqd2mKj8gtfAguLTD8gMxXZot_1PD8yK56p-hBCJdTnIiat9rlTBV1Zj4SE6R6xUx41x64NHoI_jLqkxJpxL_6fqQv-mpQglKbzXWMKPPbKzvgz6JxiY/s320/DSC_1231.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-66994562103663973192011-10-09T14:05:00.000+05:302011-10-09T14:10:50.723+05:30Dear Uttarakhand,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Thanks for hosting me for two great weekends this past month!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHHR9V8tSCYjDkr6Cc5_6j4LIv-dqh08KsUbRgjh82UxosFX4V-JedZ_XzCknSDy9p4xzaIj-1mfmRAe4rugmzuUFsCUmQVW6-WHUVROe2_ZhzOD36hIllrFlBKbM8TTRR6qBMhB4dXFH/s1600/DSC_8578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a>For some, the prospect of an early morning train ride from Delhi to Dehradun and the return trip the next day didn't sound very promising. Six o'clock AM? Six and a half hours? Coming back the next day? Seems crazy. But when I started to explain the reason why, the tone changed. "You see, there's an independent filmmaker," I said. "He's filming a movie about Indian ice hockey and he needs a 'Canadian' team to play against the Indians." With that simple sentence two years of my Indian dreams started to come true.<br />
<br />
You see Uttarakhand, I started playing hockey in Korea and fell in love with it. Then I moved to Bangladesh where nothing is frozen. Ever. When I moved to India, I heard stories of an outdoor tournament in your northwestern neighbor Kashmir, I began to crave it. My first two years, I wasn't able to go. Another unfulfilled craving was my desire to be in a movie. In the land of Bollywood, it seems that almost anyone can be in a movie. Several friends were in Eat, Pray, Love, but I missed that too.<br />
<br />
Then it all came together. A call from the director to the Canadian High Commission, an email appeal for players, a solicitation for a goalie, a train ride to the mysteriously built rink in Dehradun and bam! A two-fer. But hey Uttarkhand, why did you build a full-sized ice rink that nobody uses anyway? Seems weird. Maybe Delhi. Even Leh, in Kashmir where Indians actually play hockey. That would make sense. But I digress. We arrived, goofed around, shot scenes for four hours then it was back to the hotel, and back to Delhi the next morning. Whirlwind, but totally worth it. Thanks for the rink, maybe I'll be back. You're a wonderful northern state, known as the <i>Land of the Gods</i>, but to me you'll be the land of my film debut.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGuQMYC_ZWbADUocadqGHp_pmjRz3I0_3gsCxv0Zong9U0pq5sJhg7Pe80l-aJQeg_myvYOgQx2MptItJJkpAMidApCd8OPKcEMCBTVJiewWIKPlO9pVogKFkdRb6H301m8qgiwMAjpUEG/s1600/295914_261064360592046_161769657188184_874856_1669618478_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGuQMYC_ZWbADUocadqGHp_pmjRz3I0_3gsCxv0Zong9U0pq5sJhg7Pe80l-aJQeg_myvYOgQx2MptItJJkpAMidApCd8OPKcEMCBTVJiewWIKPlO9pVogKFkdRb6H301m8qgiwMAjpUEG/s320/295914_261064360592046_161769657188184_874856_1669618478_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for my close-ups. To all directors-Yes, I am available.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_llPK0Nl8Wfqz-sHaVC5YuA_WX9XocTBmqnmB7fAfQpraW6ouAzDAu1K8z42iOgCsBcOJc0MX2lwKgiwuNL8n8rPKNFJ_mIUFitFvOlnzbkDxIUvEZe4PnsaXszzNeyzB4IRhAVDyEcwU/s1600/308485_261064250592057_161769657188184_874854_1543285476_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_llPK0Nl8Wfqz-sHaVC5YuA_WX9XocTBmqnmB7fAfQpraW6ouAzDAu1K8z42iOgCsBcOJc0MX2lwKgiwuNL8n8rPKNFJ_mIUFitFvOlnzbkDxIUvEZe4PnsaXszzNeyzB4IRhAVDyEcwU/s320/308485_261064250592057_161769657188184_874854_1543285476_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow! Looks like I just saved the day!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LISY8R7EkdzBgduj_qKJ4Ay3hdvWLSHD3OQdKQZppWhkfVvNEDL_SjbnTJ6k-Am5JXM7dd9BPFbrm722FWiqFx1muUhd2FBIZV9mOT05j42gbuiTUogi6DKPdmA3eEgwgNJWkZJfXVrV/s1600/293966_261064303925385_161769657188184_874855_361779133_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="82" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LISY8R7EkdzBgduj_qKJ4Ay3hdvWLSHD3OQdKQZppWhkfVvNEDL_SjbnTJ6k-Am5JXM7dd9BPFbrm722FWiqFx1muUhd2FBIZV9mOT05j42gbuiTUogi6DKPdmA3eEgwgNJWkZJfXVrV/s320/293966_261064303925385_161769657188184_874855_361779133_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Film secrets revealed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div>So yeah, that could have been enough to make me love you Uttarakhand. But just three weeks later, I was coming right back to you. This time it was another whirlwind trip. The transportation was classed up as we flew to Dehradun. The fifteen minute flight from Delhi was exhausting, but luckily they served a snack. Then it was an hour in the car to Mussoorie, <i>The Queen of the Hills</i>. As I'm sure you know Uttarakhand, Mussoorie was a British Hill Station, and it was the entrance point into the Himalayas. Thanks to our friends Jake and Kelly we had a place to stay while we explored another of your fine cities. Although we were only there for one night, we still enjoyed walking(!) around, goofing off with other Indian tourists, taking chai breaks, riding the cable car and taking in gorgeous views(when the fog lifted). You know Uttarakhand, my reputation from Dehradun must have preceded me because we also took part in a pretty important photo shoot. Here are some of the best shots.</div><div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrtit9TOk1vHWihHK8lxWMUPXb8zniuOpWJCoY0y5kH7Qaq5ZRSoLT5o21hx-BUWOjoPM1c4FkY6bwG_MQrKErKCSYC320roif_i50g8DS0axzT74peG_dEs7TLJcqUk6eDoZy2kdiEb6/s1600/DSC_8571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrtit9TOk1vHWihHK8lxWMUPXb8zniuOpWJCoY0y5kH7Qaq5ZRSoLT5o21hx-BUWOjoPM1c4FkY6bwG_MQrKErKCSYC320roif_i50g8DS0axzT74peG_dEs7TLJcqUk6eDoZy2kdiEb6/s200/DSC_8571.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHHR9V8tSCYjDkr6Cc5_6j4LIv-dqh08KsUbRgjh82UxosFX4V-JedZ_XzCknSDy9p4xzaIj-1mfmRAe4rugmzuUFsCUmQVW6-WHUVROe2_ZhzOD36hIllrFlBKbM8TTRR6qBMhB4dXFH/s1600/DSC_8578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHHR9V8tSCYjDkr6Cc5_6j4LIv-dqh08KsUbRgjh82UxosFX4V-JedZ_XzCknSDy9p4xzaIj-1mfmRAe4rugmzuUFsCUmQVW6-WHUVROe2_ZhzOD36hIllrFlBKbM8TTRR6qBMhB4dXFH/s200/DSC_8578.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaymixINVPN6B7G-4hNk_QRUEvzJEIlpN_Y5sczqnODPk6qHwti3fzg96IV78QXW3RWKZU4MNnIldiyjZeZlLyIA3WbQOhuna6_5U2UiGOIbKY6gef9fXxPZcsBvqmDpqB4NsUlJzFQIc2/s1600/DSC_8581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaymixINVPN6B7G-4hNk_QRUEvzJEIlpN_Y5sczqnODPk6qHwti3fzg96IV78QXW3RWKZU4MNnIldiyjZeZlLyIA3WbQOhuna6_5U2UiGOIbKY6gef9fXxPZcsBvqmDpqB4NsUlJzFQIc2/s200/DSC_8581.jpg" width="133" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGEzAHx3BhKXmaNGoJFFg2bLm__toEdDpo6xXGyPIfinQy2fvsLnYv1HeG7ORxZWeX9Ii2oJdU5kl8ubIIqH9TY-XL9kZDW_mMjpplSzb-Kr5Y5PQpIlGKhjd2A6i8IX8JvGx8U2fEGJm/s1600/DSC_8585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGEzAHx3BhKXmaNGoJFFg2bLm__toEdDpo6xXGyPIfinQy2fvsLnYv1HeG7ORxZWeX9Ii2oJdU5kl8ubIIqH9TY-XL9kZDW_mMjpplSzb-Kr5Y5PQpIlGKhjd2A6i8IX8JvGx8U2fEGJm/s200/DSC_8585.JPG" width="200" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqF2iy3R5b5smN697x1s_OHWkbXBPU1wWyOmUBzg8g4s5Psws7EfkYIYyOkk94X8HtME3WGm1sKbcH5KXZI_G5rsE2o5Li87ySq2uzDvXh4NZTnFSmZks-Y-fvXO_HWwdXnIZmWCqluPPs/s1600/DSC_8593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqF2iy3R5b5smN697x1s_OHWkbXBPU1wWyOmUBzg8g4s5Psws7EfkYIYyOkk94X8HtME3WGm1sKbcH5KXZI_G5rsE2o5Li87ySq2uzDvXh4NZTnFSmZks-Y-fvXO_HWwdXnIZmWCqluPPs/s200/DSC_8593.JPG" width="200" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FZrmbPKTRelmc-D4hibYEA_o5_kSqhQs92_VWO8vRyCDujR364H1m3gOPkqbZc1Dv0EvVQchBnjn2qqfrl6leXkDsZhJbPyFKT441S11R9DlPa1DBKBWbqXCIMwT8lzz85lycPfl0JZa/s1600/DSC_8601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FZrmbPKTRelmc-D4hibYEA_o5_kSqhQs92_VWO8vRyCDujR364H1m3gOPkqbZc1Dv0EvVQchBnjn2qqfrl6leXkDsZhJbPyFKT441S11R9DlPa1DBKBWbqXCIMwT8lzz85lycPfl0JZa/s200/DSC_8601.JPG" width="200" /></a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPfvv76BBzKXg4AfRQ1TyltuVvuvIb-4dAB9WoLodB_ckVeYX-kgKcmwGvhL7eIEdHGkuhgkrvfx_3QGA1j6rq_Zd262LOJJFKPqRs_XADpG2J_LDklt_PL5ZMnfmAOh_cldf53Xgl-d2/s1600/DSC_8681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPfvv76BBzKXg4AfRQ1TyltuVvuvIb-4dAB9WoLodB_ckVeYX-kgKcmwGvhL7eIEdHGkuhgkrvfx_3QGA1j6rq_Zd262LOJJFKPqRs_XADpG2J_LDklt_PL5ZMnfmAOh_cldf53Xgl-d2/s200/DSC_8681.JPG" width="200" /></a> <img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aWUihx_e9kA7-rQhwmyL7nYmvr66SDFTSs2VSjxa_qpjw61REedBFNuRsFnAyj3Rd77uacFbFIuwczKHnL5Xdf1XvrLS3XlZqUStckMSxjrMf3xtQtdWlw4frzU-W88IAZxLO_6H-00v/s200/DSC_8521.JPG" width="200" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ISATA9ijrWbl5ya9p-wQoKnHuFobx0nbLOEROwdkVSfbTaJZGBqboItVCBQlxRPvmxwQaRUsmlOvYxJBymWn2qaxAnnPp2q-Eui-e9kM9QXN17ZizdiCr-TEC4j-pPGjh5bvPrScCNO2/s1600/DSC_8690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ISATA9ijrWbl5ya9p-wQoKnHuFobx0nbLOEROwdkVSfbTaJZGBqboItVCBQlxRPvmxwQaRUsmlOvYxJBymWn2qaxAnnPp2q-Eui-e9kM9QXN17ZizdiCr-TEC4j-pPGjh5bvPrScCNO2/s200/DSC_8690.JPG" width="200" /></a></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKPazfARms7FkHbfdiglqdPC11114rU3zfkhMRvO1Kct1jFdlm4huWypPdNmub6GcIKG0T6YncBQwXQbn0wcsz_T5Q5c1D2r-h0C3_sGckAYn58zIaDUPPtrUTVgvN9SdfNOyKDP63yJZ/s1600/DSC_8619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKPazfARms7FkHbfdiglqdPC11114rU3zfkhMRvO1Kct1jFdlm4huWypPdNmub6GcIKG0T6YncBQwXQbn0wcsz_T5Q5c1D2r-h0C3_sGckAYn58zIaDUPPtrUTVgvN9SdfNOyKDP63yJZ/s200/DSC_8619.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I took this photo, the man behind me said, "Old is gold."<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So anyway, thanks for some great times Uttarakhand. I hope to visit with you again soon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Tourist-ily yours,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">jason</div><div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-63713492534206947652011-08-30T14:13:00.000+05:302011-08-30T15:31:35.056+05:30Dear Algae,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Wow, you really know how to ruin the party. <br />
<br />
I was so excited for the annual staff retreat at Neemrana this year. Visions of years past flooded my memory as I drove the two hours to arrive to the 700 year old fort palace. As I whizzed the Opel Corsa past cows, donkeys, auto rickshaws, giant trucks, tiny motorbikes and other cars hellbent on getting out of Delhi, I was reminded of the trip undertaken in years past. Such a gauntlet was necessary, perhaps, to enhance the peacefulness of the Neemrana property.<br />
<br />
I knew that upon my arrival, I would be greeted with the white glove treatment-hot towels, cool drinks and all of the accoutrements of five-star service. Then it would be off to the pool for drinks, card games and socializing with friends old and new!<br />
<br />
Oh the pool! What a treat on those hot, hot Rajasthani days.<br />
<br />
But you algae, you had other plans for us, didn't you? You were so desirous in your pursuit of photosynthesis that you didn't account for the 60 or 70 of us that were interested in cool, clean, blue water. "Blue water be damned," you screamed from the murky depths of what had previously been the Neemrana Fort Palace pool! Algae, you had different ideas. Perhaps your green sheen should have reminded me of stories of envy and humility. Perhaps I could have accepted Neemrana's inability to keep a pool clean. Instead I was reminded of the dark green hue of the Incredible Hulk, indicative of the rage that was growing inside of me, ruining my weekend. Had you been yellow instead of green, you may have inspired me to make lemonade, but instead algae, I was left with pea soup.<br />
<br />
At least I have a story.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0LJAoh-V843wAd4b2gTJSiKu9d4aqTH-MrQ2d7dIOemIGJTVsgNgF_JCdNDse3ESkDSZTX0AuBV_YOybbrKtyPw2Yr22ulisO0qBcwQQUyBZYk5rPiEyohfdF7LMYYvzLoNq6JDl64ybJ/s1600/DSC_8175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0LJAoh-V843wAd4b2gTJSiKu9d4aqTH-MrQ2d7dIOemIGJTVsgNgF_JCdNDse3ESkDSZTX0AuBV_YOybbrKtyPw2Yr22ulisO0qBcwQQUyBZYk5rPiEyohfdF7LMYYvzLoNq6JDl64ybJ/s320/DSC_8175.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Hulked out,<br />
jason</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-35166310818784505572011-07-15T15:31:00.000+05:302011-08-30T15:34:43.336+05:30Dear Murphy Lake,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">There goes the neighborhood.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFRknzZnyn2v1Soi6SC9S3fU0TXNoesBwZJW84MNv3oZaB4_mIBjDBSXI5pwIjOO4SkJRfau67Nn6ARuZf6T64zQUEkERnvJt5NYoEJpTp3TvFMFjQZ4I4ZMnXjzm93Ilp0Lf0HqM_AEX/s1600/DSC_7913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTFRknzZnyn2v1Soi6SC9S3fU0TXNoesBwZJW84MNv3oZaB4_mIBjDBSXI5pwIjOO4SkJRfau67Nn6ARuZf6T64zQUEkERnvJt5NYoEJpTp3TvFMFjQZ4I4ZMnXjzm93Ilp0Lf0HqM_AEX/s320/DSC_7913.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
Your new neighbor,<br />
jason</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-51134054129152344292011-06-15T14:15:00.000+05:302012-03-03T10:47:11.631+05:30Dear Grandmother,First of all, thank you. Thank you for everything. It's hard to explain all of the things that I'm thankful for, so I'll try reverse chronological order. <br />
<br />
Thank you for waiting for us. I know you were in pain for a long time, and I knew you were ready to go, so thank you. Thanks for enduring it for a bit longer until we arrived to see you this summer.<br />
<br />
Thank you for winning the last game of cribbage that we got to play. I thought I was hot stuff when I beat you two days before that, but in classic Nancy Ann fashion, you were tough till the end and put me in my place. I always loved that about you. You could dish it out and you could take it. You calmly listened to my trash talk, then creamed me the very next game. I should have known better than to think that I could best you in cards.<br />
<br />
Thanks for getting email. It was fun to send you letters from abroad and getting replies asking when I was coming home. I loved imagining the giant pile of free AOL discs on your desk that you kept to keep your Internet running.<br />
<br />
Thanks for throwing me to the wolves at the Fon du Luth Casino. Those old ladies taught me the hard way about taking the dealer's ten.<br />
<br />
Thanks for imprinting crazy images in my head like the "Grandma Nancy Ash" and "Lil' Toot."<br />
<br />
Thanks for full cookie jars, Sunday dinners, trips to the races and humoring my imagination at the Lester Park Greenhouse as I pretended to be a jungle explorer.<br />
<br />
Thanks for the pumpkin story and for exposing me to AM radio and true country and western music as we drove around town on one crazy adventure after another.<br />
<br />
Thanks for not believing me when I broke my leg (kidding, i'm over it) and thanks for spoiling me rotten when I was the only grandchild.<br />
<br />
Thanks for everything Grandmother, Granny, Gram, Fancy Nancy... I love you and I'm going to miss you more than I realize.<br />
<br />
Gratefully yours,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-66013459952162522002011-06-05T18:10:00.000+05:302011-06-05T18:11:32.558+05:30Dear Taking a Shower in America,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You are so awesome! This is going to be a gushy love letter, but I just have to say it out loud. Taking a Shower in America, you are so dreamy! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">♥ </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">♥ </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">♥ </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">♥ </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I love the way I can turn your hot water on and it comes right out of the tap! I love your water pressure! But most of all, I love how I can let the water wash all over me and swallow up mouthfuls without fear of typhoid, giardia or cholera! What a treat!</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Squeakily clean,</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">jason</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">xoxo</span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-35967461637247376242011-06-01T12:09:00.000+05:302011-12-13T21:36:40.964+05:30Dear Turkish Bath,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">First of all, thanks yet again for a fantastic experience. I'm so glad that you don't meet the stereotypical view of what many must think you are. You did not feature a swarthy, mustachioed Turk twisting and contorting me into a world of pain. You did not feature a room full of sweaty, dodgy men with eyes darting to and fro. And you most certainly were not a gateway into Istanbul's dark world of hashish and crooked deals.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, you were everything I hoped you would be. I'm glad that we trusted your out-of-the-way location behind Suleymaniye Mosque. It contributed to the privacy and peace we were looking for. I'm grateful that your staff was kind and helpful. The wooden slippers you gave us to help us from slipping on the marble floors of the hammam were well-intended, even if I thought they would cause me to topple over and meet my doom, rather than slip.<br />
<br />
The 100 degree temperature in the hammam was just right, as we let the stresses of the year sweat out of our bodies. Laying on the heated marble for forty minutes may have just a bit too long, but nobody passed out. When the scrubbers came in a greeted us with a cascade of freezing cold water and a friendly laugh and smile, we again knew we'd chosen the right place.<br />
<br />
And then we got down to business. A great exfoliating scrub, hard but not too hard. A luxurious, foamy soap down and massage, again hard but not too hard. Another rinse, a quick dry, wrapped up like burritos and an apple tea to relax and it was over.<br />
<br />
Hard to believe that ninety minutes had gone so quickly, but when we left, we were rejuvenated, happy and ready to continue our exploration of a great city.<br />
<br />
Scrubbed and happy,<br />
jason</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-41386332627623559312011-05-08T16:47:00.000+05:302011-05-08T17:05:47.357+05:30Dear 1,000,000 miles,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I don't know exactly how to say this. When you first came into my life in March of 2010, I never thought this would be the result of our relationship, but I now I find myself sitting here alone in my apartment without you. I want to be angry, scream and shout about how you left me, but I know that wouldn't be fair.<br />
<br />
It's not you, it's me.<br />
<br />
I mean we had some fun times. Some really incredible time, actually. When that email came into my inbox asking for 3 reminder dates to send flowers and I'd have the chance for you to enter my life, I was skeptical. I already had so much junk mail in my life at that time, I was nervous to let you in. Against my nature, I let you in and you changed my life.<br />
<br />
1,000,000 miles, when I think about that first summer together, I still get a huge smile on my face. You gave me two Around-the-World tickets from Delhi with stops in Seoul, Tokyo, Minnesota, New York, Athens and Istanbul. That would have been enough for anyone to be happy and fulfilled. But, you went the extra step. You also gave me a fourteen day car rental, two hotels in Athens, a hotel in Istanbul and an incredible hotel in a fairy castle cave in Cappadocia, Turkey! I felt like John Travolta in Grease; summer lovin' indeed!<br />
<br />
That autumn you just kept on giving. A hotel room in Kuala Lumpur for a long weekend, a dodgy hotel room in Mumbai on the way home from our first safari in South Africa and two flights to BALI with a stopover in Bangkok!<br />
<br />
Spring flowers blossomed, the birds started singing and we had two tickets booked to Krabi, Thailand. We had been together for almost a year. Maybe that's when I should have paid more attention to you, 1,000,000 miles. I had taken you for granted. You were slipping from my hands and I didn't even notice.<br />
<br />
Now it's May, 14 months later and after a violent day of summer bookings (two Delhi-New York roundtrips, a sixteen day car rental and one last hotel room) and you're gone.<br />
<br />
Thanks for everything, 1,000,000 miles. We had a great run, but it's over.<br />
<br />
Wistfully,<br />
jason<br />
<br />
<embed height="27" src="http://www.google.com/reader/ui/3523697345-audio-player.swf?audioUrl=http://jasoncoleman.org/music/12%20It's%20Over%201.mp3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="320" wmode="transparent"></embed><br />
Squirrel Nut Zippers - "It's Over"<br />
Buy it <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Its-Over/dp/B00138H0C4/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=dmusic&qid=1304854512&sr=8-3">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-3243447075198742662011-03-08T13:46:00.000+05:302011-03-08T13:46:19.803+05:30Dear Fever-Induced Roadhouse Facebook Status Live Blog,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Thanks for making me feel better.<br />
<br />
On the mend,<br />
jason<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizzZUIpjo5lvIIcR7oQDFfag_NMWYH2_cwu1-VSXnJm5F0jw_8jsHnBDYpExYx5p-iRAqEiPM-DagETIoIWDg33Cn7bhPwPpqnsw2BpgUVqJszmasnpWSEdNjN_P03BfMDT477FjK_mofg/s1600/roadhouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizzZUIpjo5lvIIcR7oQDFfag_NMWYH2_cwu1-VSXnJm5F0jw_8jsHnBDYpExYx5p-iRAqEiPM-DagETIoIWDg33Cn7bhPwPpqnsw2BpgUVqJszmasnpWSEdNjN_P03BfMDT477FjK_mofg/s640/roadhouse.jpg" width="488" /></a></div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-26320362282001927502011-02-19T11:01:00.000+05:302011-02-19T11:01:12.603+05:30Dear Delhi Traffic,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I think you get a bad reputation.<br />
<br />
Yesterday all of the eighth graders in our school went on field trips to support the work they're doing on their integrated capstone project. The group we took went to North Delhi to visit a rehabilitation center for bonded child laborers and a medical facility in a low-income area.<br />
<br />
Beyond the obvious, interesting nature of the projects we were visiting, it meant that we had to face you, Delhi Traffic. From school, the journey to North Delhi would last 90 minutes.<br />
<br />
That would make most people cringe, but not me Delhi Traffic. I think you're great. Anywhere else in the world and that much time in a bus would be boring, but you have so much going on that it's like watching a movie.<br />
<br />
The ninety minutes went by in a flash as we traveled and you kept me entertained. Thanks!<br />
<br />
But...your next segment really showcased your double-edged treachery, Delhi Traffic. A 45 minute jaunt changed into a TWO HOUR delay. Did you disappoint? Of course not. In that one hundred and twenty minutes (and 15? kilometers), you gave me centuries-old tombs and forts, three weddings, a flood, ox-carts, water buffalo, innumerable cows, the buzz of street life and one of my most favorite recent photos.<br />
<br />
Like I said before Delhi Traffic, I think you get a bad rep. <br />
<br />
Awestruck,<br />
jason<br />
<br />
ps. Here are some pictures of your traffic-caused entertainment to send your family.<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQluoSVlYGQCp61FTuKBWklCjaCVEODE3Q4Cme2MXPqaPLlUoXA6LcE_P6s7yAIWv6j4cfLMEhJ4n2tnhn_d7iyo5qZI3-5mWBTG04fi7yPBp7HVyU4jVO_HvhXgXSXOgYd9xzDSRlsXKK/s1600/DSC_5823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQluoSVlYGQCp61FTuKBWklCjaCVEODE3Q4Cme2MXPqaPLlUoXA6LcE_P6s7yAIWv6j4cfLMEhJ4n2tnhn_d7iyo5qZI3-5mWBTG04fi7yPBp7HVyU4jVO_HvhXgXSXOgYd9xzDSRlsXKK/s200/DSC_5823.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB4VvmX1EF09_Ck64uStovibrEDwu61MUO79hc7ZsPdv0-LYLLWNiqPfXF2NKsnTC5R8-kjMVrR2SZ_bjsOhExsU7dUP8SSYj6FS3Y7lqHPSQsOT9-wH80zLMfibgocvmjg8-1VK0LFGLO/s1600/DSC_5836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB4VvmX1EF09_Ck64uStovibrEDwu61MUO79hc7ZsPdv0-LYLLWNiqPfXF2NKsnTC5R8-kjMVrR2SZ_bjsOhExsU7dUP8SSYj6FS3Y7lqHPSQsOT9-wH80zLMfibgocvmjg8-1VK0LFGLO/s200/DSC_5836.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnWvcWRRwJi3D26KtAhLv0b1ZMTAOhZU-u4a4sMnXq1047aCxcuh9-N9Yj27JvLsv46vlHuKn9dyP0X2WMjw25EgDlIFkaQeshPi3NL4eZHk2hVoTZfRBdLcGGt1OPK3g3ZBE10FjmVfSc/s1600/DSC_5819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnWvcWRRwJi3D26KtAhLv0b1ZMTAOhZU-u4a4sMnXq1047aCxcuh9-N9Yj27JvLsv46vlHuKn9dyP0X2WMjw25EgDlIFkaQeshPi3NL4eZHk2hVoTZfRBdLcGGt1OPK3g3ZBE10FjmVfSc/s200/DSC_5819.JPG" width="133" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzT94gV9BOgyiCRZ7zqThJvygQZCfoPj9XTIOxx5SrU5ReWX2TB6m8rjiWBhe7VfLbGBS5JlcVneLHaVedx4cOK2NoqAfaMueT3QKwVJdZlQL5nLF52FqcR0qHr6h-GZcYzIqLKWMzGkyA/s1600/DSC_5803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzT94gV9BOgyiCRZ7zqThJvygQZCfoPj9XTIOxx5SrU5ReWX2TB6m8rjiWBhe7VfLbGBS5JlcVneLHaVedx4cOK2NoqAfaMueT3QKwVJdZlQL5nLF52FqcR0qHr6h-GZcYzIqLKWMzGkyA/s200/DSC_5803.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-8992317185780262292011-02-13T10:51:00.000+05:302011-02-13T10:51:08.033+05:30Dear Holy Cows,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I was just in the kitchen getting more coffee when I saw one of you pass by my window. You know what Holy Cows, it never gets old. I crack up every time I see you. I know that I should be used to it, but every time I see you, I think to myself, "Wow! There's a cow!" I'm smiling right now, just thinking about it.<br />
<br />
In my backyard, in the streets, at the mall-you're everywhere. Awesome. Here's to you Holy Cows.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2wmNrmEwpebiRW_ls6AgKexNUMtKv8rTZIKbwQNWzzza8bLqU6PE4cd31nC8NF2TOUPqp4qsdckh_BS1G-zd7JZgJHVOhUJtJEZsHmv75qX2hXiAqz5BGhvL7fhV5OLGkrf7OOG8j7wl/s1600/DSC_2619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2wmNrmEwpebiRW_ls6AgKexNUMtKv8rTZIKbwQNWzzza8bLqU6PE4cd31nC8NF2TOUPqp4qsdckh_BS1G-zd7JZgJHVOhUJtJEZsHmv75qX2hXiAqz5BGhvL7fhV5OLGkrf7OOG8j7wl/s200/DSC_2619.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to work</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifyYZmdldn_00Ag1aJpvcVBLSdw52mO7Dp3CZGmXgTCVAashm_Lvx4jBqBY0jtmyxFvBVd9VtJkybjDF1sluMmMDP2utA1UWq9ilUS2VHhVsciy5uGnYyw5AFKR947PKY1j9iAZcSAVxd9/s1600/DSC07063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifyYZmdldn_00Ag1aJpvcVBLSdw52mO7Dp3CZGmXgTCVAashm_Lvx4jBqBY0jtmyxFvBVd9VtJkybjDF1sluMmMDP2utA1UWq9ilUS2VHhVsciy5uGnYyw5AFKR947PKY1j9iAZcSAVxd9/s200/DSC07063.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first Holy Cows, 2006</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCzPyqVp0atPU1IIdYforI2gRVh_2FY7Hwk48Z_Jh9q_bLaRAbnt2IfgcL8HHsm1DG72NAvYR6m8TFKXAgeODqXSbT1JvmtEorRkeD4Zvzl0AzXE1lj_tMiM91JTOWSmFaRmzz6BqZREB/s1600/orchha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCzPyqVp0atPU1IIdYforI2gRVh_2FY7Hwk48Z_Jh9q_bLaRAbnt2IfgcL8HHsm1DG72NAvYR6m8TFKXAgeODqXSbT1JvmtEorRkeD4Zvzl0AzXE1lj_tMiM91JTOWSmFaRmzz6BqZREB/s200/orchha.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting close and personal</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRshLtgFtu9un7RBmB7uSCMVFgeggxOt7kQAJDKfdoM_ROHbtQHpvY2IUaQdA1Q_bIoq3I_aZzZQmtMSWy7y0oHH1rshsV_qFO9JTHNFCz1Qb77cmih9OxQsrcuwfaEQ2JyQdaYLc2xYYO/s1600/DSC_0300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRshLtgFtu9un7RBmB7uSCMVFgeggxOt7kQAJDKfdoM_ROHbtQHpvY2IUaQdA1Q_bIoq3I_aZzZQmtMSWy7y0oHH1rshsV_qFO9JTHNFCz1Qb77cmih9OxQsrcuwfaEQ2JyQdaYLc2xYYO/s200/DSC_0300.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orchha</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bovine-ily yours,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">jason</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-72396742186379137242011-02-12T20:07:00.000+05:302011-02-12T20:07:14.194+05:30Dear Colorful Indian Lamps,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You know what, Colorful Indian Lamps? I think you're great. <br />
<br />
When I first saw you in 2006 in Varanasi and took two of you back to Korea with me, I thought you were great. I mean, how cool? Exotic Indian lamps in my apartment in the ROK. I was so excited for you to be on the porch that I took the door off in order to allow you join us in the living room.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCbaetFRMpLvyWDOrclWrY6tHDJquI9lXiuGtQosaU62MDsGyEMphPZEHmh9iIvSfmZSk1mXXfOJ5cFweRcI0LTeVVvXCbujmu3mADM2VSGA_jcw42LQgHAGgp0H9o-OvwInTA1FKie6I/s1600/party10.7.06-17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCbaetFRMpLvyWDOrclWrY6tHDJquI9lXiuGtQosaU62MDsGyEMphPZEHmh9iIvSfmZSk1mXXfOJ5cFweRcI0LTeVVvXCbujmu3mADM2VSGA_jcw42LQgHAGgp0H9o-OvwInTA1FKie6I/s320/party10.7.06-17.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Those doors were heavier than they looked.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
People always asked about you when they'd come to visit and I'd brag about finding you in India. They loved you; I loved you. But, I should have taken better care of you. You would often fall to the floor and I would get lazy about putting you back up. After one such fall, combined with a party mishap, you took a bad hit.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0YwqxEwvtAGtA6Rgw35OxH5wTG7AIsfo7zjFjIU096El_Cvbr11Q3xd1iiy1DN9nu5YdeDGSIhg3rgM6SONrXFVOHOCeCoY5WGYEnjxAPzKbuvgopiUjXl70G33Dpm4BE_BaepXy-PLo/s1600/DSC08685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0YwqxEwvtAGtA6Rgw35OxH5wTG7AIsfo7zjFjIU096El_Cvbr11Q3xd1iiy1DN9nu5YdeDGSIhg3rgM6SONrXFVOHOCeCoY5WGYEnjxAPzKbuvgopiUjXl70G33Dpm4BE_BaepXy-PLo/s320/DSC08685.JPG" width="292" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pictured: Colored Indian Lamp Staining Agent)<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At that time, I figured that was it. You'd be stained for life and I'd never have a chance to replace you. Little did I know that I'd end up living in your homeland.<div><br />
</div><div>Since moving here, I've seen you hundreds of times Colorful Indian Lamps. I've admired you, thought about that day in Varanasi when I bought you and all those times spent on the porch in Korea. But, I haven't replaced you. You're still sun-faded and wine-stained in a drawer.<br />
<br />
Today, I went to the Surajkund Mela and you were in your full glory! You were everywhere and I couldn't take enough photos of you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UUrSBDbWl7mKFUOfg3bqMnWIc1GkW0e0zpy54mIVF28XZvT7ffdXnQ97trbmLv9pnhrPKB3pdwCUgiiX4OYwWajIDAittLmKhgvW2KuSeMaf4fzIF8W3Pv6QrL3E4ujakfs0GDWtdcyj/s1600/DSC_5744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UUrSBDbWl7mKFUOfg3bqMnWIc1GkW0e0zpy54mIVF28XZvT7ffdXnQ97trbmLv9pnhrPKB3pdwCUgiiX4OYwWajIDAittLmKhgvW2KuSeMaf4fzIF8W3Pv6QrL3E4ujakfs0GDWtdcyj/s200/DSC_5744.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimnjc7rJ3tUY6v2FBqp3msniGKxqjyB73VxY0vL6lIT6xVs7wcjtJHiJetIL55AyCY9EEbP52n9I3odP9JT5c6r9RF-r8aWth_mY-8hI-SwIcom6MwO217uFcF8f6M-dx9lyHsSjL_xQAy/s1600/DSC_5735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimnjc7rJ3tUY6v2FBqp3msniGKxqjyB73VxY0vL6lIT6xVs7wcjtJHiJetIL55AyCY9EEbP52n9I3odP9JT5c6r9RF-r8aWth_mY-8hI-SwIcom6MwO217uFcF8f6M-dx9lyHsSjL_xQAy/s200/DSC_5735.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
But I still didn't replace you. I'm not sure why I haven't taken you out of your drawer, or added any more Colorful Indian Lamps to my life.<br />
<br />
Do you know what? Maybe I should.<br />
<br />
Vibrantly,<br />
jason</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-53794783087609094042011-01-30T21:35:00.000+05:302011-01-30T21:35:53.357+05:30Dear Indian Republic Day,First of all, thank you soooo much for happening on a Wednesday this year. That was really cool. You changed Monday into Thursday, Tuesday into Friday, Thursday into Monday, but really the new Monday/Thursday was still Thursday so Friday was Friday. Which obviously made for two really short work weeks.<br />
<br />
Even though I didn't get to go to your parade because there weren't any tickets left at the Ashok, I probably wouldn't have wanted to battle the masses for the seven a.m. arrival just to sit around and wait for the 9:30 start time. Also, since you wouldn't have let me bring my camera any way (security/schmcurity), I probably wouldn't have been that happy.<br />
<br />
I did watch your parade on television though and as usual your pomp and circumstance was sensational. I loved the tanks, the fly-overs, the bands and the floats, but the stand-out this year was by far the float that showcased the Chemical Explosion Response Team. The giant papier-machee man with gas mask being escorted out of the chemical factory was cool. But because this was Indian Republic Day, you went over the top and had people on the float reenacting the whole scene live. Now, while some may say that showcasing an exploding chemical factory may be unsettling, I know that it's even more reassuring to know that<strike> if </strike>when it happens, the response team will be there.<br />
<br />
Indian Republic Day, thanks for the day off. And thanks for the parade. But let's get to the main event. Thank you sooo much for barbecue in Malcha Marg.<br />
<br />
Wowsers. A day off is great, but when the weather in India changes from the dismal winter cold to the beautiful (but short) spring, it's really great! To celebrate the weather (and Indian pride) we headed to the roof to cook some meat and enjoy the company of friends.<br />
<br />
And just when it couldn't have gotten any better, it did. Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was the upswell in national pride or maybe it was the desire to eliminate carbs, but the conditions were perfect. We decided to go chemical explosion float and take it over the top.<br />
<br />
I'm talking of course about the brotdog.<br />
<br />
<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="520" height="322" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/q-fzSMjs6zg?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen></iframe><br />
<br />
<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="520" height="322" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/zQlX5y0JEgw" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen></iframe><br />
<br />
Indian Republic Day, without you, the brotdog wouldn't be blowing minds right now. I owe you one.<br />
<br />
Deliciously over the top,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-32869171929154116552011-01-08T10:07:00.000+05:302011-01-08T21:21:37.022+05:30Dear Strangest Hotel Experience Ever,When we arrived at 8:30pm to your hotel, the Merisess, we thought we'd drop our bags and head out in search of some classic Bangkok street food. Then we'd settle in to your elegantly simple boutique hotel bed and drift off into sleep.<br />
<br />
But, on that night, in that exotic city there was a mystery afoot.<br />
<br />
We managed to slip right past you with our clever use of American Airlines frequent flier miles; your email receiving capabilities were tested to their limits. What to do? I maintained that we had a reservation and you maintained that you had a full hotel. The game was on! The way you made us wait for an hour while you picked up your magnifying glass, played your best Dr. Watson, scoured my voucher and your computer system for our reservation was truly captivating. And just when we started to question ourselves, you called in your Mr. Holmes, the Sherlock of the Sukhumvit. He encouraged you to check your "other email account" and sure enough, the mystery was solved. We <b>had</b>, in fact booked a room. But what to do? How to solve the mystery? The rooms were full!<br />
<br />
Well luckily Mr. Holmes, the owner of the hotel, had another property across town. We were whisked into a taxi, the driver was told of the secret route and we were given the number of Mr. Mike.<br />
<br />
Ah, Mr. Mike. The associate of our great problem solver. "Meet Mr. Mike in front of the Starbucks, which will be closed. He will take care of you from there." I have to admit, Strangest Hotel Experience Ever, at this point the scene from Pulp Fiction did creep into my mind. "Take <i>care</i> of us?" Were you planning on icing us? Or were you just going to put us into another hotel? When we pulled up in front of the 50+ story State Tower, I had the feeling that it would be the former, and not the latter. The State Tower IS NOT a hotel.<br />
<br />
In his best Peter Lorre impression, Mr. Mike informed us that we would be staying in the boss's apartment that night. We were brought up to the 44th floor, given a key and entered a giant, furnished apartment. It was nice to look at, and had a great view, but it was very unsettling to see two bottles of water, hotel soap and cheap hotel towels on the counter. Our fears were not assuaged when you told us the the room was kept by the hotel for "emergencies" and that the "boss sometimes slept here." Your parting words of, "if you need anything, just go down to the front desk and ask them to call Mr. Mike" left us wondering just how <i>exactly</i> are you connected to our Sherlock Holmes? And also, how <i>exactly</i> does one become a Mr. First Namer? And what <i>exactly</i> was this place that you decided to send us to? The "emergency" apartment?<br />
<br />
After checking every room, cabinet and closet to ensure that we weren't about to be killed, we wandered out to the balcony and looked down on the Shangri-La Hotel where we had first met. Fitting, just days after our one-year anniversary. And just then, fireworks shot up from a barge on the river. Huh. Strange.<br />
<br />
After locking, dead-bolting and security bolting the door, we went to sleep. We woke up anxious to check in to the real hotel and called Mr. Mike. He asked us if we were comfortable during the night, we weren't sure how to answer the question and we headed back to the Merisess. Mystery solved, another success for the Great Holmes and Watson. We figured you'd be waiting with apologetic eyes, a fruit basket and a room ready. But that would have been too predictable, wouldn't it? That's not the way you do things. You slyly took the upper hand and had us wait for 30 minutes until the room was ready. Thanks for that.<br />
<br />
Awkwardly uncomfortable still,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-58865783336361055552010-12-28T09:48:00.001+05:302010-12-28T09:48:31.041+05:30Dear Dewey The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World,As the Booklist (starred review) said, you are a "beguiling, poignant and tender tale." I'm so glad that you were left behind in a heap of what could have been cheesy or unreadable books in the closet at the apartment in the Jayakarta Resort in Bali. I mean, I could have chosen any of the books from that deep, dark closet shelf. But I chose you, Dewey. I chose you because the photo of you on the cover called to me. It said, read me and find out more about Dewey Readmore Books, the small-town library cat who touched the world.<br />
<br />
Oh Dewey the small-town library cat who touched the world, you taught me not only about the peculiarities about a handsome, humble (for a cat) cat, but you also taught me about the resilience of a small town in northwestern Iowa.<br />
<br />
Just like the book in the closet, you were left behind in a drop-box on that frigid January morning, and as you snuggled into Vicki Myron's chest, you made that rough and tumble farm girls heart melt. When Doris would give you catnip and you'd do figure eights, zigzags and pretzels you'd make everyone laugh. As you jumped into the laps of the genealogy club members at their weekly meetings, you made people feel special. But when you started getting into the local press, Cat Fancy, the documentary Puss in Books and even the Japanese documentary, you touched the world.<br />
<br />
That's right Dewey, the small-town library cat who touched the world, you touched the entire world. But you also touched me. I feel recharged and revitalized after reading your tale. You reminded me to value the small things, to value quality over quantity, to find my place, to be happy with what I have and to love life. You were a special cat. <br />
<br />
To close my letter to you, Dewey the small-town library cat who touched the world, I will leave with Vicki Myron's description of you in your official photograph, the one that won the contest at Shopko, accompanied countless articles in international press and the one that caught my eye. "He looks like he's trying to be strong and handsome but can't quite pull it off because he's so darn cute."<br />
<br />
Thanks Dewey the small-town library cat who touched the world, thanks for being so darn cute.<br />
<br />
Cat Fancied,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-45024452770530453512010-12-23T12:43:00.001+05:302010-12-23T12:44:05.845+05:30Dear Beach Braids,It's never okay.<br />
<br />
Free advice,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-86025323896207716592010-12-13T22:45:00.000+05:302010-12-13T22:45:20.386+05:30Dear Monday,See you again in four weeks. Sucker.<br />
<br />
Bali-bound,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-40387773375104765902010-12-04T11:19:00.000+05:302011-02-13T11:11:04.985+05:30Dear Corner Store in D Block,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You represent so much of what I love about India. I love that you've always got me asking questions, wondering and taking a look at you when I drive by, regardless of how many times I've done it.<br />
<br />
It all started when we first moved in to this neighborhood and we went to explore the little market around the corner from the house. Three restaurants, a gym, two banks, two bakeries, a little general store and you. That day, I didn't know what to make of you. The sign outside said you were a real estate shop, but a close inspection revealed just a desk and a phone. I have to confess Corner Store, you seemed a little suspicious to me even then.<br />
<br />
Flash forward to a month or so into school and my neighbors and I were talking about you (I suspect that doesn't surprise you). They revealed your secret Corner Store. They told me that you not only served as a "Real Estate Office," but you also rented (!)(?) DVDs. Now, I can understand the sale of bootleg DVDs, but rentals? Only in D Block Market, India.<br />
<br />
Well, that might seem like grounds enough for a sideways glance when I pass you (Who's in there? Are they buying a house or renting Pineapple Express? Why would anyone rent a DVD? Why would anyone rent a DVD from a Real Estate Office? How would they even know how to do it?).<br />
<br />
But...you had to take it that extra step. I though you had legitimized yourself when one day the Real Estate sign had been replaced with the "Laser Video Centre" sign. I thought you had made the big switch. But a closer inspection revealed the same desk with the same phone. Oh the appeal of the empty office!<br />
<br />
And then...two days later, Real Estate. And then...Video Store...<br />
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And now...I have to look every time I drive by. What will you be today Corner Store? Tomorrow?<br />
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Your mystery is enough for me. I don't want to cross that threshold and have my imagination spoiled.<br />
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Always wondering,<br />
jason</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-38266669582871458792010-11-28T19:03:00.000+05:302010-11-28T19:04:57.288+05:30Dear McLeod Ganj,Hey, buck up little man. There's no reason whatsoever for you to feel so glum. Your air is so clean and crisp. You have a lot to offer all of the tourists that come. I really enjoyed the momo cooking class. I'm excited to make some more in the future (or at least have Yangzom use the recipe I learned). I also enjoyed visiting the Dalai Lama's temple and the Norbulingka handicraft center. Walking around and shopping was a lot of fun too.<br />
<br />
I know that everyone says they're going to Dharamshala when <i>really</i> they're coming to see you, McLeod Ganj. You deserve the credit. After all, it's your pine-covered mountainside that people are hiking through. It's the momos in <b>your</b> restaurants and enlightenment at <b>your</b> temples that everyone is coming for.<br />
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Just for you, McLeod Ganj, I'm not going to refer to you as Dharamshala any more. After all, there's no way someone like the Snow Tiger could do his Tibetan cultural dancing anywhere except McLeod Ganj.<br />
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Refreshed because of you,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-76727774228767258402010-11-20T16:23:00.000+05:302010-11-20T16:23:13.149+05:30Dear Restaurant Franchin,When I came to you without a reservation on Thursday night and you sent me away despite the fact that you were empty, I was hurt Restaurant Franchin. I'm not going to lie. Maybe you were expecting quite a few people, but it seemed like a dis. I don't want to perpetrate any stereotypes of snobby french restauranteurs, but I'm going to. Okay, I'm sorry, that's my ego talking. I'm fragile, Restaurant Franchin.<br />
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Last night, when I came again without a reservation and I mustered all of the French I could and asked (I think?) for a table for one and you gave it to me, I was confused. Maybe it's the old Ike and Tina routine, but you got me. Instead of a fur coat, my reward for crawling back to you was a delicious foie gras with paired sweet white wine, caramelized onions and sea salt. That would have been good enough, after all I'm fairly easy to please. But when you got down on your hands and knees and begged for my forgiveness with a perfectly <i>rose</i> filet mignon in pepper sauce with <i>patate au gratin</i> and snap peas, I realized once again that you're the boss. No, Restaurant Franchin, it's me who's sorry.<br />
<br />
A fool in love,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064654781440625373.post-12950587976142725182010-11-18T19:27:00.000+05:302010-11-18T19:27:06.213+05:30Dear Bumblebee That Landed on my Shirt This Morning,Remember this morning, when I was walking to the conference center and I saw you on my sweater and I said, "Hello Bumblefriend!" and then I gently brushed you off of my shirt? You really brightened my rainy morning!<br />
<br />
Oh, and I also want to thank you for stinging my in the lip, or getting your venom on my finger or whatever it was that you did that enabled my upper lip to be as luscious and lovely as Angelina Jolie's. Alright, bumblebee, that is an exaggeration, but it sure is great to be reminded to be humble when I meet new people with this crazy swollen lip. It's also great to think of you every time I carelessly brush my mouth with my finger!<br />
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Sultry-ly,<br />
jasonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0