Alternate Vision

Long and ugly day ahead. But before all the madness, remember life is too important to be taken seriously.

Sunny Friday afternoon in the jungle. Last minute decision to visit the crew. Mimosas instead of shiner, and 24th floor apartment overlooking the jungle instead of the dingy house. But apart from that it felt like old times. We even had symphonatic and everything that should come with it to reminisce.

I couldn't take anymore conference paper editing. LCA homework was about done. M calls and offers me food, beverage and nomadic company in exchange for the services of the hookah. Two hours later we're all savoring the apple flavor and exchanging travel tales. C is getting ready to embark on a new journey. She has to decide between Arabic school in Yemen and working at the Turquoise Mountain Foundation in Kabul. She has mentally prepared for the latter and will begin in two weeks and then end up in Yemen somehow. Journey will start in Bangkok with a tattoo to commemorate the occasion. The plan is to make it to Calcutta and travel by road to Kabul before beginning work with Rory.

Rory Stewart was born in Hong Kong and grew up in Malaysia. He served briefly as an officer in the British Army (the Black Watch), studied history and philosophy at Balliol College, Oxford and then joined the British Diplomatic Service. He worked in the British Embassy in Indonesia and then, in the wake of the Kosovo campaign, as the British Representative in Montenegro. In 2000 he took two years off and began walking from Turkey to Bangladesh. He covered 6000 miles on foot alone across Afghanistan, Pakistan, India and Nepal -- a journey described in The Places in Between.

In 2003, he became the coalition Deputy Governor of Maysan and Dhi Qar -- two provinces in the Marsh Arab region of Southern Iraq. He has written for a range of publications including the New York Times Magazine, the London Review of Books, the Sunday Times, the Guardian, the Financial Times and Granta. In 2004, he was awarded the Order of the British Empire and became a Fellow of the Carr Centre at Harvard University. He now lives in Kabul, where he is the Chief Executive of the Turquoise Mountain Foundation.

6000 miles on foot. Istanbul to Dakka. I need to get a hold of any of his books. Soon. Prince of the Marhses would be top on the list.

In August 2003, at the age of thirty, Rory Stewart took a taxi from Jordan to Baghdad. A Farsi-speaking British diplomat who had recently completed an epic walk from Turkey to Bangladesh, he was soon appointed deputy governor of Amarah and then Nasiriyah, provinces in the remote, impoverished marsh regions of southern Iraq. He spent the next eleven months negotiating hostage releases, holding elections, and splicing together some semblance of an infrastructure for a population of millions teetering on the brink of civil war.

The Prince of the Marshes tells the story of Stewart's year. As a participant he takes us inside the occupation and beyond the Green Zone, introducing us to a colorful cast of Iraqis and revealing the complexity and fragility of a society we struggle to understand. By turns funny and harrowing, moving and incisive, it amounts to a unique portrait of heroism and the tragedy that intervention inevitably courts in the modern age.

Paper masala dosa, rasmalai and filter coffee. It's the simple things that keep us happy.

Pink Floyd meets Dead Can Dance meets Mahavishnu Orchestra minus the vocals...you have the Mandrake Project.

"This 6-piece band (of sorts) is composed of strange visitors, current (and past) members from several Pittsburgh bands as well as members of other interesting and influential national acts. The bizarre common thread among members is most certainly the projects repertoire. Each members scope of interest varies widely. There is no common goal for a sound, as the Mandrake Sound can take on many aspects of many styles while maintaining cohesion. It can be the soundtrack for many situations. Surprisingly, it all sounds like Mandrake regardless of the genre mish-mashing and member sharing. Even more puzzling is exactly whose playing what, and when they're playing it. The members tend to switch instrumentation within or between song structures creating a barrage of dynamic sonic interplay. Staple Mandrake sound is based largely around RHYTHM. The project relies heavily on drumming and percussion, sometimes with all 6 members convening to participate in group percussive numbers. The normal Mandrake setup exists with 2 drum kit players, 2 guitarists, violin, bass, Chapman Stick, and sampling/sequencing. This however, is subject to change at any given time."

It makes for one hell of a live experience. Even if its at little dingy Club Cafe on Carson st. All throughout their performance last night, I kept telling L "if only they had a vocalist." I like the fact that the next time I see them, they are likely to have some new addition to the crew which only means more experimental music.

you know you're living in the 21st century when the non-Indian is teaching the Indian about Ayurveda

I miss tropical weather. I am a beach boy at heart. I would take Adana's 104F weather over -26F windchills.

Everyone sits by the window staring out in anticipation. Tension in the air. One by one, each Ph.D. student gets called to Scaife to find out if they passed their quals or not. If you passed, the walk back across the lot while the world watches your every move is easy because your not so self conscious. But if you didn't, its the walk of shame. Heads down. Weeks on end of sleepless nights cramming and taking practise quals, and you still didn't cut it. Sure, you get a second chance. But you have to go through the whole thing again. Kudos to the fighters who come back stronger the second time around. One thing is for sure, whether they passed or not, the immediate desire is either sleep or to find the nearest bar.

We sipped on pinga. He wants to take off for the summer, to do something off-beat before committing to a steady job, most likely policy related,and a relationship. We spoke of month long drumming classes in Guinea, nomadfests, mastering the piano, learning to sing, finishing the album, teaching English in India maybe. The conversation drifted to ethnomusicology and the lifestyle of an ethnomusicologist. The thought of traversing the globe to study music in its cultural context is all too appealing, especially for a former music major like himself. But beyond academia, what career is there for an ethnomusicologist? Is it mostly research oriented? Our thoughts drifted. Some makossa hit came on at this point. I explained to him why my favorite part of makossa is the energy and the guitar. Its infectious. Makossa which stems from Cameroon, has inherent similarities to Kompa from Haiti it seems - both have catchy upbeat african rhythms with an emphasis on electric guitars and synthesizers. And then ofcourse the jazz, soul and latin influence. I asked him, if you had but two chances to go back in time, where would you go? To which he responded, "17th century. Village in Africa. To watch my Haitian ancestors get enslaved. And then maybe to watch the Pyramids get built." Its my favorite question to ask people. And then he left me with a news paper article on oil companies promising scholarships to hometown graduates.