Cowboys, Steaks and Yellow Roses – A Week in the Lone Star State

I spent most of last week in Irving, a ‘burb of Dallas, Texas. Dangit, but they’re right! Everything in Texas is BIG.

The airport at Dallas-Fort Worth proclaims that it is as large as Manhattan. I cannot verify that for you, but they could well be right…

Irving is, they tell me, much like all the other ‘burbs of Dallas. Freeways, intersections, and strip malls. Not hugely pretty.

The weather was odd – incredibly hot and intense sunshine in the day followed by the most torrential downpours late at night. It felt hotter here at times, than in Southern India.

The food – oh my god, the food! It’s pretty dangerous: Steaks, ribs, chops, chillies, and BBQ sauce everywhere. I’m not sure I’d survive if I lived here, but it does taste good. I’ve never craved an undressed lettuce leaf so much as by the end of the week.

In my brief time here, I got an impression of Texas being a ‘state apart’. They definitely have their own identity. In some respect, it’s a bit like Yorkshire. Both places see themselves as being the largest state/county (more on that later) and the people tell it to you straight. For example, I was once introduced to an old Yorkshire man, and I said something like, ‘Pleased to meet you. How are you?’ He proceeded to tell me in minute detail. ‘I’ve got a twisted bowel with three openings’ he told me. I suppose I asked… Anyway, my point is that I can see that happening in Texas.

As such, Texas didn’t seem overly sophisticated, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Having said that, uptown Dallas looked very posh. Here's some advice for my mountain biking buddies that I found on a trolleybus in Dallas:


Anyway, the ‘Southern Hospitality’ was immediately obvious, and was in stark contrast to California.

Let me tell you about the ‘size of Texas’ story. I was sitting in a bar, drinking a Shiner Bock beer, and eating a steak (predictably). A few good ol’ boys were asking each other quiz questions:

‘What’s the largest state in the Union?’ one cowboy asked.

‘Texas!’ was the roared reply.

‘Correct!’ said Billy-the-Kid

‘Hmmm…’ thought I.

A few other questions passed, and then
‘What is the most northerly state?’ asked Buffalo Bill.

‘Illinois’ said one. ‘Vermont’ said another. ‘New York’ said a third. (New York??)

‘Nope’ said Buffalo Bill. ‘It’s Minnesota’, and he proceeded to explain that a little nook stuck up above the 49th Parallel.

I must have had too many Shiner Bocks, because I then did something brave (or stoopid).
‘Alaska’ I called out.

Immediately, four big faces turned to see where the clipped pronunciation had come from. ‘Uh-oh’ I thought… But they all broke into huge grins. “Shee-ette, Duwayne! He’s right!”

They all laughed, and I was relieved. I had decided some time ago to gain as many unique experiences as I can, but a bar-brawl in Texas??

‘It’s also the largest state in the Union’ I said, feeling brave by this point.

‘Well, I do declare…’ (or something like that) said Wild Bill Hickock, and one of them bought me a drink. Nice!

Later that night I found out first hand why Texas is called the ‘Lone Star State’. Of all the things described as ‘awesome’ in America (hotdogs, cars, shoes, etc.), this really was. I’m not going to blog about it, because it’s currently my secret and I found it out from personal experience, but I’ll tell you about it verbally if you remember to ask me next time we speak.
One thing I didn’t find out, though, was why all the famous cowboys are called William…

California Dreamin’

Until an embarrassingly recent time, I thought the song went:
‘All the knees are browm (knees are brown)
And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)
I went for a walk, (went for a walk)
On a winter’s day (etc)’

I thought I’d tell you that apropos of nothing, really, except that I recently spent four days in sunny Southern California. I was working in Irvine which, apart from the gorgeous weather and swanky hotel, was nothing much to write home about. I was, however, pretty close to Newport Beach, Laguna Beach, Long Beach, and you get the idea…

These are, of course, beautiful places filled with hard-bodied, tanned, beautiful-looking people. I met this girl when she was on lifeguard duty:

She was friendly enough, and wanted my cell number, but she seemed a little vacuous. So, Jonnay, I gave her your number instead. She’ll never know, and I hope you don’t mind…

This is her friend. I promised to fix her up with you, Timmay.

I gave her your address in Sydney, so she’ll be there soon, I expect. She looks like Eva Boos, so I guessed you’d like her…


I seem to have taken more sunset photos. If I do that again, you have my permission to chew my ear off, gentle reader…

I wasn’t here long enough to really get a feel for how friendly it is, but at first glance people seem more self-centred and concerned with looking good. The Mexican food, though, is wonderful.

Oh, and the seagulls are the same size as small children here

I got to spend half a day on the beach at Corona del Mar, so the knees are indeed all brown. See? I was right all along.

Home from Home in the Evergreen State

Hello gentle reader. Are you still there? You are?? Well, thank you...

I'm sorry it's been so long since I wrote, but let me introduce you to one of life’s quirks: I started this blog as a travelogue (tavelblog?), but have been so busy travelling that I haven't kept it up-to-date. So, I'll now make amends and splurge out a few entries in quick succession. After all, this whole thing is for you gentle reader, always you.

And so to the Evergreen State…
Washington, in the Pacific North West (not to be confused with Washington DC on the east coast) is a beautiful place.



That makes me pretty lucky, because it is my most frequent destination. Seattle is nick-named the ‘Emerald City’ but that has more to do with the abundant rainfall, the resultant pine forests, green fields and verdant landscapes, than the presence of the Wizard, Dorothy or Toto. Seattle is a fun city in itself, and the surrounding area supports a wide range of outdoor activities, including skiing, snowboarding, cycling and mountain biking, hiking. Some brave souls even surf in the chilly North Pacific, and I know at least one person who scuba dives in Puget Sound. There be giant octopi, apparently…

I seem to have picked up an unsettling habit of photographing sunsets and sunrises. This is early morning on the Eastside.


(Eastside refers to being East of Lake Washington. Seattle is on the – wait for it Jonnay – Wesside! W! Chamon!)

I know this place so well by now (I must have been here over twenty times in the past 8 years) that I could start rambling on. So instead, I’ll list what I really like:

1. Friendly people. If you sit next to someone in a bar, they will definitely talk to you. Guaranteed. They may be old or young, in a group or on their own, male or female, black or white or anything else, it won’t matter. They will then most likely want to hang out and drink with you. After that, you may well move on to different venues together and continue to hang out. I think it would be difficult to be lonely here.

2. Funny people. The sense of humour here is not at all what I expected initially. It generally seems quirky, odd, and quite dry, and so quite like the English sense of humour. Not at all what the British might rather unkindly class as ‘American humor [sic]’. Good work!

3. Scenery. Well you can see for yourself.

4. Youthful outlook. Nothing in this whole area is old. I am told that the city is only a hundred years old, or so. That seems reflected in the youthful culture.

I’m bound to blog more on Seattle and the Eastside in the future, but for now ‘that shallot’…

Our Man in Amman

I'm in Amman. Now, don't get excited. Read that statement more carefully, please. I am not reporting on some home-erotic adventure, I am merely stating my location.
I nearly said 'I have gone up Jordan for a few days', but I've never even met Katie Price, and to honest I don't really want to. The truth of the matter is much more pleasant, and far less mundane --- I am currently in the capital city of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. So titter ye not.

To be quite honest, I wasn't really looking forward to this trip. First of all, it's for work. Secondly, I have recently been to Tel-Aviv and Dubai, and was under the impression that those were the two most fun, liberal, and progressive places in the Middle East. Now don't get me wrong. I liked both places --- especially Dubai --- but I have really been taken aback by how liberal, friendly and pleasant Amman really is. I've only been here a couple of days, but my initial impression is that this place is so much more cool than anywhere else I've been in the Middle East.
Here's are Amman's plus points:

• Good amenities (shops, bars, restaurants)
• Good infrastructure (roads, lighting, internet, etc)
• No real traffic problem (crazy driving, but what did you expect?)
• Very liberal attitude (alcohol, dress, etc)
• Run by Jordanians for Jordanians
• Sense of being a real working city
• Friendly people
• Complete feeling of safety
• Attractive architecture virtually everwhere
  

I'm told that the only more fun place in the Middle East is Beirut. I might actually be going there some time this year, so expect a report.

Inja Holiday: Last Day in Real Inja!

We went off-piste on our last day by walking through a few miles of rural Indian countryside.


We ended up at a fishing village, far off the tourist track. There was a clamour for school pens from the children, which is a fairly standard request. Luckily, we had been warned, and so had plenty to give away. The children get so excited when you give them a pen, it's rather touching... Villages tend to be inhabited on the basis of religion. The village we went to is inhabited by Muslims:


The next village along is Hindu, and one a few miles down the coast is Christian. (The Christian communities pre-date Rome; they are known as Syrian Christians, and still hold services in original Aramaic). I did see some Roman Catholic churches as well. There is complete religious tolerance, and Keralans are very proud of this.


Rather interestingly, Kerala is a communist state. Maybe these are communal bricks?


In 1957, the state had the World's first democratically-elected Marxist government. They have been in power very frequently (but not continually) since then. Of the ruling communist party, about one-third are Hindu, one-third Christian, and one-third Muslim. They consider that their model could be put to good use elsewhere. They might have a point: Along with religious tolerance, Kerala has social issues very high on its agenda; it has the highest literacy rate in India, higher in fact than the UK (according to some sources). The state school system is extremely good, as is the healthcare and dental care.

Begging is illegal, but if you are caught you are taken away, given a good meal, new clothes if needed, and help on how to get a job...

I love it here!

Inja Holiday: Kathakali and Thali

Thali is a traditional Indian dinner served on a banana leaf. It consists of many different dishes, all served in small portions together on the leaf. Yummy...

Kathakali is a traditional Indian show, consisting of drum beats and cymbal chimes, but no dialogue. The acting is performed purely through facial expressions, hand gestures, feet gestures, and body movement. I think all Kathakali plays are based on Hindu stories, but I could be wrong.
One of the local hotels put on a Kathakali and Thali night last night. The show was based around Lord Vishnu, as you will see...

The character below is Hirnyakasipu. He is a Giant King, and is very powerful. Lord Brahma (one of the main Hindu Gods, known as the Creator) gave him three blessings:

1. He could be killed by neither man nor animal
2. He could be killed neither in the daytime, nor at night
3. He could be killed neither on Earth, nor in the Heavens, nor in the Underworld.

No wonder he looks happy:

This is Pralahda, the only son of the Hirnyakasipu:


The Giant King sent him to a guru so that he would become educated in the ways and history of the giant people:

The guru, however, had some problems with Pralahda. The boy had become a devotee of Lord Vishnu (another main Hindu God, known as the Protector). Hirnyakasipu was very angry that his son worshipped Lord Vishnu, instead of the Giant King himself. (In his rage, he gave the poor guru a beating, and threatened to kill him. Poor guru...). Pralahda remained serene and told Hirnyakasipu that Lord Vishnu was everywhere:


The Giant King laughed this off and challenged Pralahda thus: Is Lord Vishnu in this pillar? (he seemed to say...)
Pralahda answered Yes, so the next morning (at the crack of dawn, incidentally) Hirnyakasipu drew his sword and split the pillar in two; he wanted to prove that the Creator was not inside.
Boy, was he in for a shock! In a flash of light a creature, half-man, half-lion, jumped out of the pillar. The creature is called Narashima. (nara means man, and shima means lion):


Narashima is actually one of the incarnations of Lord Vishnu himself.
Uh-oh, I sense trouble --- it's dawn and there is a non-human, non-animal at large. Do you think the first two blessings from Brahma have been invalidated?
Narashima grabbed Hirnyakasipu and held him in his lap. (Yikes!! In his lap?? That's neither on Earth nor in the heavens or the underworld...)

Narashima proceeded to disembowel the Giant King with his sharp claws.


Then he ate Hirnyakasipu's innards. Yum...


Lord Vishnu then makes Pralahda King of the Giants, because he has been such a faithful devotee of the Hindu God. The End.

Inja Holiday: Tales from the Riverbank

Kerala is famed for its backwaters - 250 miles of interconnecting lagoons, canals and rivers used to transport rice, spices and other goods from the south of the region to the north.

	The scenery reminded me of the South-East Asian waterways depicted in Apocalypse Now. There was a fair bit of wildlife, and an elephant on a truck... Please click a picture for a full-size image.

Inja Holiday: On the use of language

The local language of Kerala is Malayalam. The written form is quite as exotic as it sounds, with loops and curves, quite unlike Hindi sanskrit.

Interestingly, many Keralans do not speak Hindi, only Malayalam and English. So much so that there is a thriving local film industry, becuase many locals do not understand the Hindi-based Bollywood productions.

The Indian flavour of English is somewhat formal, and very precise in terms of grammar. It bears more of a resemblance to polite Victorian English than the Estuary English now prevalent in England. A local will ask 'What is your good name, sir?', and will tell you that the weather will be hot this afternoon, even if it rains in the forenoon.

The media are rather moralistic, which may or may not represent the views of the majority. Combining this with the formal language structures leads to some rather amusing constructions. For example, Richard Gere and Shilpa Shetty (Bollywood goddess and recent Big Brother winner in the UK) were presenting at an Aids awareness event when Gere made a rather awful faux pas - he grabbed Shilpa (well, you would, wouldn't you?) and planted a smacker full on her lips, in a rather theatrical yet good-natured stunt. The media went crazy - it apparently broke a multitude of decency rules, and was seen as an infringement of Shilpa's good name. The press ran a story about an indecent act, and ran on to describe the event thus: 'It is all indecency and nudity which our society cannot tolerate.' I just loved the reference to nudity.

By the way, Kerala has a higher literacy rate than the UK...

Inja Holiday: Terrified in Trivandrum

Terrified, not by the people, nor by the intense heat, nor even the Kathakali characters, but by the driving. Our taxi driver told us that the Keralan highway code is based on the British version, circa 1950...

At face value, one is supposed to drive on the left, but I just cannot verify that for you. In reality, the rules of the road appear somewhat similar to the laws of physics - one simply takes the path of least resistance. Imagine you are walking down Oxford Street at the height of the tourist season, and then consider how you might navigate in the two-way flow of pedestrians. Bring to mind the essentially chaotic flow, and the proximity to your fellow walkers. Then transpose that scene onto a motorised scale that includes huge trucks, taxis, motorbikes, rickshaws (tuk-tuks), cyclist and pedestrians. Now you might have an idea of what I'm talking about.

QuickQuiz: It is mandatory to sound your horn as:

1. You approach another vehicle?
2. You overtake another vehicle?
3. You are approaced by another vehicle?
4. You are overtaken by another vehicle?
5. Whenever you like?
6. All of the above?

Need I tell you the correct answer? Suffice to say that the noise is deafening...

However, we're not talking about blasting the horn like irate London cabbies or stressed Seattle commuters, with associated cussing, swearing, obscene gestures, questions about parentage and threats of physical harm. Just the opposite, in fact, everyone seems completely relaxed and equanimous with all the tooting. There were no dents on any vehicle, so I guess the entire, chaotic system works. I suppose it's tempered somewhat by the fact that no vehicle seems capable of speeds over about 25 miles per hour...

Oh, and I forgot to mention the cows. Now, they really don't seem to have read the highway code.

Picture is of the Hindu Temple in Trivandrum.

Inja Holiday: Cricket Loss, Oh well...

Last night I watched as a sub-standard English cricket team got dumped out of the World Cup. My initial consolation was that I was now in good company --- 1 billion Indians who surround me are equally (or let's face it, infinitely more) disappointed by their team's premature exit from the competition. I bonded with the hotel bar-staff over the fact that of the remaining four teams, we all really hope that neither the Aussies nor the Saffers (South Africa) lift the title. We're fairly ambivalent about the Kiwis, but are now really hoping that the Sri Lankans go all the way. Sri Lanka is not a million miles away from Kerala, so there is at least a loyalty driven by proximity, if nothing else. Fact of the day: Sri Lankans are simply referred to as Lankans in India.

My other consolation was of course the beautiful surroundings I find myself in. These shots are of the infinity pool at the hotel. The water in the background is the Arabian Sea. I feel better already...

Inja Holiday: Happy Vishu!

It was New Year in certain parts of India over the weekend. The Bengali festival is called Poila Baishakh, whilst the Tamils celebrate Puthandu. Here in Kerala, the New Year is known as Vishu. There have been a few fireworks, but not much else. People tend to celebrate at home with families and close friends, so no colourful parades to show you, I'm afraid...

The hotel put up a nice display, and there seemed to be a larger number of saris in the sea on the day itself, but that's about it.

Happy Vishu!

Inja Holiday: Ripped off? You decide...

Trying to make up for my lost photo opp at the airport, I decided to capture some colour on Hawah beach. This lady spotted me spotting her and smelt a quick buck. First she made me buy a bunch of bananas for 50 rupees for the pleasure of photographing her, and she then insisted on posing with her friend for a formal shot.

She then assailed me for another 200 rupees after the fact. Considering that a waiter in our hotel earns about 2,000 rupees per month, I think she did pretty well. Was I ripped off? In her eyes, she had definitely turned me over, but the total amount equates to about £3, bananas included...

Inja Holiday: Arrival

Arriving at Tivandrum airport in Kerala, after an extremely early morning in the UK and a 10 hour flight, we were exhausted. It was about six a.m. (local time) when we emerged through customs to see the most stunning sight - thousands of locals crammed together just outside the arrivals hall. The colours were spectacular, and I am now kicking myself that I didn't have my camera ready. That shot would have been spectacular. Ho hum, I'm sure there will be more photo-opps...

Talking of which, I may have found some relatives, though rather bizzarely on Dad's side. I always thought you were a bit swarthy for an Englishman, Dad, and changing the family name from Hawah to Harwar doesn't fool me.

Not sure who this Sid Arthur fellow is though. Sounds more like an eastender than an easterner...