hiatus

there's a break in the weather, and the wanderings. stay tuned for more, when there is more. until then, thanks for reading.

tim

the playa

i saw the pictures, i heard the stories and i had even had people try and discribe the experience of burning man to me in great detail, but i still wasn't prepared for what i found way out in the nevada desert, hundreds of miles from anywhere on a dry lake bed the size of lake george, called the playa.

when i told friends and family that i was going to attend burning man, people were either unaware of the festival at all, sceptical of it, writing it off as some dirty hippy drugfest that was past its prime anyway, usually without actually having attended to make the judgment, or lastly, they took on a warm glow and just softly smiled at me, giving me the impression they knew something magical about my future that i didn't.

briefly, bm started around 20 years ago when, after a particularly trying year, a san franciscan guy and some friends burnt a small wicker effigy of a man on a beach in california as a celebration and farewell to aspects of themselves that were no longer relevant to now and onward. since then it has grown, and subsequently moved to the nevada desert and attracts around 40,000 people. the basic idea is that the camp and festival sets up on a dry lake bed and after a week of celebration, ceremony and much more, the man is burned and everyone vanishes, leaving no trace behind. part music festival, part art installation and part experiment in temporary, low impact habitation, bm has become about much more than, but culminating in, the burning man.

i secured a ride in SF and after many hours on the road through california and the desert, we found ourselves in the long line of cars, 4WDs, caravans and RVs driving out on the huge flat expanse of the playa, heading for the gates. the theme for this year's burn was "the green man", basically sustainability. the irony of which can be amusing as you follow the long line of huge SUVs, hummers and house-truck RVs toward the front door, and pass the landing strip set up on one side of the playa complete with parked private planes.

just as i was about to get sceptial, however i passed the first of many signs on the long winding road between the gates and the festival proper, that said "its not as good as it used to be." huh? the next one said "last year was much better" and then "its just a bunch of tired hippys in the desert." , and even "how can all those SUVs and trucks be green?". and so went on a long line of signs that basically fed every pre-conception or cynical attitude i'd heard, and many more, right back at you. while weird at first, it did somehow allow me to suspend any opinions or scepticisms and just open myself up to the experience. as we drove in the gates, a large african-american guy dressed as a dove leaned in the car and asked "are there any burn virgins in the car?" i nodded and was told to get out of the car. he and three others then gave me a big hug.

"welcome home" he said.

it was pretty incredible. i didn't know anyone when i went in, but i met a whole bunch of weird and wonderful people and the sheer scale of the event is mind boggling. there were temples and statues and sculptures upwards of 90 ft high, and 3 story mobile birthday cakes with a dancefloor on the top. there was a full scale replica of the thunderdome, complete with crowd hanging off the walls, weapons and elastic harnesses, where you could choose to fight with foam toys, or iron bars, whatever your particular fetish dictated. the best way i could describe it is like the bizarre love child of woodstock and mad max, held somewhere on tatoine (complete with armys of jedi and speeders). unreal. there was even a bar called "cameltoepia - the pink pussycat lounge". i'll refrain from too much detail here, though.

the festival was a feast for the eyes, ears, feet and loins, whatever your particular desires required. a night of wandering the playa partying with a PR guy from Apple who was dressed in a big chicken suit and a guy called "the chadillac" will go down as one of my life's more memorable experiences. just when i though it couldn't get any better, some guy next to us said "hey, there's some cool dj playing over the other side of the playa"

"what's his name?"

"ummm....oakenfold, i think..."

and the rest of the night was history. on the last night they burnt the man (again - some pillock tried to burn him prematurely the previous week), and the place grew to a creciendo. after things died down and we arrived at the the last morning, the sunrise was beautiful over the nevada desert, but i was faced with a small problem. i was booked on a flight out of san francisco 24 hours later, and had no ride out of there, for the 10 hour trip from nevada. a lovely lass called stacy, who was part of the same camp i joined, wanted to get back as well, so we decided to just wander out to the exit road and hitch a ride back to SF. i was confident in our manifestation capability, and felt sure a safe, reliable and expedient ride would present itself.

as we got to the exit gates, we realised that we didn't have a sign to our destination, so i said, "you keep an eye out, while I write one". i hadn't even retrieved my pen, before i heard her yelling at me from the middle of the road. i turned around and there she was standing next to the biggest RV i've ever seen, with the door open, as a hydraulic staircase was descending to the ground. bingo, we had a ride in 23.7 seconds.

the driver was a guy called dave from san jose and he seemed like a cool guy. the surprise was, he was the only one in this monstrosity, that was roughly the size of your average interstate coach. anyone who's seen "meet the fockers" will know what i'm talking about. it was a beast.

we were set. a ride across nevada and california in a condo on wheels. would we prefer to travel in the front, the lounge room or the master bed room? we couldn't have manifested any better...

things started to go awry about 30 minutes into the ride. the beast started wandering in the lane and dave started to look like he was flaking. in hindsight, i should have seen it coming when he asked if we'd had any sleep the night before. "are you okay man?" i asked...

"yeah, we took some crazy acid last night and its knocked me round a bit."

pause.

"have you ever driven anything this big before?"

now, lets just get this straight. i've never been to the US, never driven on the right hand side of the road and never driven anything bigger than a ford transit van. but for some reason i wasn't in control of my mouth.

"yeah sure man, heaps of times."

stacy just looked at me. i couldn't bare looking back, otherwise i was going to crack, but i just knew we had to get dave out from behind the wheel and into bed, otherwise we were likely...well...lets not go there. put it this way, the last thing we needed was the nevada highway patrol getting interested. dave looked like a health and safety commercial when he took his sunglasses off, and i didn't want to know what they might find in a thorough search of the RV. we pulled over and i got in the drivers seat.

at first i was terrified, then once i got a feel for the humungus proportions of the RV, things went pretty smoothly. in fact, a few miles down the road i realised that i had discovered something. something i never thought i would after only 2 weeks in the country. i realised that i had landed smack bang in the middle of the american dream.

admittedly, it was a bizarre hybrid of grizwald lampoonism and thompsonesque fear and loathing, but i had found it. plowing through the nevada desert in a rolling condominium with a girl called stacy and dave the acid freak. things went smoothly from then on in, and i even started to enjoy myself. just when i thought the experience couldn't get any richer, somewhere outside of reno as we pulled out of a gas station stacy reached over from the passenger seat...

"here, i got you some beef jerky."

callin' out

phase 2 has begun.

a marathon session of m.o.d. at 30,000 saw in the new day across the dateline and arrival in the land of the freeway and home of the bay area - the USA and touchdown in san francisco.

a beautiful place, really, with hummers and homies, mustangs and modern art, bowling, budwieser and the best damn burritos i ever ate. i really need to take a moment to announce my first ever attempt at 10 pin yielded a spare on my first throw, and 5 strikes in the ensuing game. what can i say? whether it was the buds or the bowling shirt with "Bob" on it, i was a natural.

the music started almost immediately too, with a supreme manifestation of a ticket to the very sold out beastie boys concert on saturday at UC Berkley. i need not explain, as those of you who know, know.

now begins the journey across the bay bridge and california to the charged deserts of nevada for the next step in phase two - the madness, chaos and wonder of burning man.

stay tuned.

in order of appearance...

series one is now complete in physical form. a return to oz has involved a bumpy re-entry but a safe landing nonetheless. i would like to send my thanks and hellos to all the cast and crew of the adventure thus far. you are, roughly in order of appearance:

chris (pablos), pip, hughey, chris, neal, loz, kiyomi, haatchi, nishio-san, kris, deb, carolyn, corinne, marcello, chloe, mattieu, jason, dave, marinne, tenzin, dawa, thupten lama, martin, james, alon, laya, wang chu, mahesh, omraj, osaris, ohad, lilach, yuri, stephanie, tom, will, adam, ryan, claire, kane, erin, bidur, shom, rajendra, chandro, hira, ajay, hh, jimmy james, lihi, kfir, sam, estelle, ashish, bhollu & family, sarah, pawan, praveen, stephan, prem, james' sweedish wives, hila, akasha, pepe, diyar, ivan, tarah, ludo (mr. bonjour), martin, the grumpy french girls, babloo the snake, tariq, ali, aslan, collin, ajaz, wonderful jax, gemma, iftach, ombaba, vjas, ahendra, billy, jovan, sheera, jenifer, and a bunch of people i cant remember right now, who may find you names here later.

the saga continues. stay tuned for more adventures in series two, this time in the exciting locales of north america.

coming soon.

jewels

the backpacker is like an individual subspecies. we congregate in small parts of big places, starting and ending freindships in an exhalation, getting to know, for however brief a time, the beauty and foibles of many people, and the richness of many cultures. people from all over the globe come together to surf the cultural wave of india, or wherever they may be, manifesting a galaxy of joyous and challenging experiences. the learning is matrix-like in its download speeds, and the imprints are jewels of enrichment in the crown of my india, my planet.

that being said, i still completely fail to understand how the indians manage to take hindi musicals so seriously.

soon, monsoon...2

each year between may and august, india enters a kind of altered state that starts in the south and moves north with the rising temperatures. the monsoon.

the monsoon arrives like a balm on the scorched flesh of india, as the tail end of summer leaves the lowlands of the southern 90% of the country sweltering. last week delhi hit 50 degrees, and the death toll from heat related issues stands at just under 40. varanassi is experiencing the same and some places in rajasthan are touching 55 deg.

i was in delhi almost 2 months ago when it was a balmy 44, and the place was already on edge. the heat induced tension and lack of tourists meant the place was a bit of an energetic hothouse. three "cold" showers a day would barely suffice, and generally you were sweating before you dried you self off anyway, and thus were back where you started.

dealing with taxi or rickshaw drivers was an extreme sport, or at least required the guile and tenacity to meet the sharks face to face. getting a taxi? no problem. communicating your destination? piece of cake. actually getting to your destination? thats a whole different story. i've discovered that something like "HEY! STOP. THE. FUCKING. CAR!" can be reasonably effective at making yourself understood, as is opening the door in the middle of 7 lanes of traffic.

the scam can go something like this - if you're freshly arrived into delhi, the drivers will pretend not to know how to get to your hotel which is right in the middle of the most popular tourist area of town. then they will tell you your map is wrong, the roads have changed. then they will take you to a tourist information office where some guy will pretend to ring your hotel, and the guy on the other end of the phone, most likely in the room out the back, will tell you we've lost you booking and we're full, or your room has been double booked. then you are very politely encouraged towards another more expensive hotel, where everybody involved takes out your wallet and carves up the spoils. i wish i'd read the lonely planet section on this prior to arriving. half way through my rather trying experience i realised what was going on and resorted to my previously mentioned methods of making myself understood, and i assure you they work. but if all else fails, resort to violence, or a serious attempt at convincing the indian man who is trying to drive you to the badlands that you are mentally unstable and he is putting himself at great risk by having you in his cab. techniques for this method include random unprovoked screaming, quickly reciting lines from your favourite episodes of seinfeld or lyrics from cold chisel songs or anything else that may sound like complete gibberish to an indian, as long as its said at high volume and within a 2 inch radius of his eardrum.

note: be careful when finalising your victory. if your screaming and threats of violence eventually get you to where you want to go, your driver may ask you for a tip, the sheer audacity of which can kick start a whole new round of screaming and violence can kick off, putting at risk you bags which are still in the boot. make sure you are where you want to be, with all your stuff before telling buggerlugs to go sit on a flagpole while you hoist his tip up to him.

but i digress.

the wave of heat starts in the south as summer kicks off, and then follows half of Israel, as they make their way up through gokarna, goa, hampi, mumbai, rajastan and rishikesh until everybody arrives in the mountains in the north, where they wait out the heat.

it seems that just as everything is about to cook beyond repair and all life is about to collapse under the weight of the heat - Ssssssssssss, the rains come and cool everything down, and then the death toll changes from heat exhaustion to drowning as the whole country goes into flood control.

i've just returned to dharamsala from srinigar in kashmir, trekking up near the border with POK (pakistan occupied kashmir), which despite the unbelievable military population is remarkably serene. dharamsala has been raining solidly for a week, and the heat has definitely subsided, but everything is wet inside and out.

as things heat up, the energy of the place seems to come to a head, where you can imagine the place exploding if the rains don't come, in fact in the past it has. in 1947 when india and pakistan attained independence from britain, the massacres and bloodshed that gripped the country in the aftermath (including the assassination of Gandhi) occurred against the backdrop of a monsoon that was 2 or 3 months late - india was in the grip of a heat wave for almost 15 weeks, instead of the usual 5 and the place boiled over.

the rains are here now, though, and i sense that an exodus from this remarkable country is close at hand for most. for others its the phenomenally epic journey from the north to the south, where the rains are beginning to subside. although, to get there, you've got to go right through the middle of it...

kipling moments

where oh where has tims blog gotten to? is he still alive? does he still care about us? is he a maoist?

here! yes! yes! and not yet! are the answers your looking for. just enjoying avoiding technology occasionally. don't lose faith, and don't freak out. the world in the asiatics is treating me with many treats, and engrossing me in the engrossing. like last week for example...

i floated down a river for 8 days, sleeping under the stars on the sandy banks and found myself almost in darjeeling, in the south-eastern end of nepal. a wonderous place, its quite incredible how the himalayas just stop. like...just...well, stop. big open flat land over there, that turns into india and eventually bangladesh, and.....mountains over here, that don't stop untill pakistan.

i got on a bus way to late, but moving quickly. it was the intention to head around 10 hours northeast, to sauraha and royal chitwan national park, on the border of nepal and india. about half way we stopped at a traffic jam in a tiny village, there were buses and cars and motorbikes extending as far as the eye could see with no one moving anywhere. apparently someone had been hit by a bus, and the family had blocked the road, demanding compensation. compensation is an imediate transaction in traffic negligence cases in rural nepal.

after a couple of hours, we were on our way again, but the late departure and the delay caused by the nepalese legal system meant we arrived in sauraha at 3 am, a little behind schedule. but in a great moment of preparedness, an open topped safari jeep was waiting for our arrival. he'd been waiting since 9pm.

we drove for about an hour through small villages and farmland until we got to our humble hotel, spread out on the edge of the jungle. we were led around and shown our respective rooms, and when i was the last one left, the guy said "this way", and walked down a side path. i dreamily followed, as i was basically in sleep limbo. the dream took a turn when, in the darkness of the back alleys heading out to my bungalow behind the garages, i walked straight into a huge elephant.

after my, now much more awake, eyes adjusted to the darkness, there were three huge elephants standing around munching on a midnight snack, while the mahouts slept soundlessly in little cots beside them. it was realy quite sweet. you just wouldn't want one of the elephants to roll over in the middle of the night.

the next day it was into the jungle, and the start of my patience wearing very thin with a couple of groups of tourists that insisted on talking so loudly they scared away the wildlife, and then complained that they didn't see any, and threw endless cigarette butts into the river.

it was clear management was have an equally frustrating time, but sadly they appeared used to it. i decided it was time for action, i dutifully offended the smokers with my waving ashtrays around in front of them (they still threw them in the river by the way), and then boycotted the communal events and elephant rides through the jungle. hey, from what deb and kris have told me, the saddles on the elephants weren't up to scratch anyway. i had befriended one of the guides, ajay, and asked if there was any chance of completely abandoning the scheduled events they had in stall for me, and just wandering off into the jungle and creating our own experience? he smiled "of course, i'll take you".

and then his smile became just a tad more wicked. excellent. then began two days of walking the jungle with ajay, tracking rhino and sloth bears, and then hiding from rhino and sloth bears. it was quite amazing, but the end of the second day stood out somewhat.

ajay, decided to take me on a fairly extended walk, "maybe we will reach the other side of the island" he said. chitwan is a big national park that also contains a complex river system. the island we were on was around 50 square kms. we had been walking for a few hours at least, and had found a few humungus black one horned rhino, some barking deer, and a few hoards of monkeys. most of the island is covered in dense jungle and some clearings of 7ft high grass and reeds. by around 6 in the evening, about an hour before sundown, and we were indeed on the opposite side of the island. we walked on a narrow path, through some quite dense scrub when ajay stopped and put his hand in the air. i was about to ask something, but then i heard it. it was getting louder. there is no real way i can describe it, but it did things to my skin and my hair that nothing else had ever done in my life. the best i can come up with was it sounded like satan gargling. about 10 metres ahead of us, behind a bush, was a bengal tiger.

we waited a few seconds until it went quiet, and then ajay motioned for us to move forward, and move quickly. for some reason i didn't immediately think about the fact that we were running towards the bengal tiger, but we were. unfortunately we were not quick enough, and it was gone. we never even saw it.

the jungle was very dense and our path was barely there and it was too good and too quick for us. while we walked back to the bungalows occasionally ajay would stop and listen, and then move on. i enquired what he was doing, and he said the tiger was most likely following us. "they do that sometimes" he said, "sometimes they circle us for a while, maybe an hour or so, just out of view. they're pretty wiley." wow man, its a trip tracking tigers on foot through the jungle, i must say. i was also very pleased we were so well armed.

me, ajay and the mahout who came with us, were carrying sticks.