A link to ekphrasism

By popular demand, I add the following:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ekphrasis

Bombay: always under construction

Bombay Dreams

Dear Diary,

I like Bombay. And real coffee.

In a rare attempt to follow-through on this past month's progress in putting my legs behind my head, I unrolled the mat and carpet this morning and found myself bending creakily, wearily to the sound of taxi and rickshaw rumble. I soon worried about my neighbors however. Not your archetypal pounding on the headboard--no--but more like grunting at the pain of not having moved adequately in 24 hours. Did the airplane seat make me this way? Did the quick rundown by foot of the major sites in Colaba bring this on? Whatever the condition may be, it ain't pleasant, and reminds me how much a tropical scene--replete with palm trees and trash strewn beaches--may indeed make the difference between being able to stare at your knees close-up or just observing them, curiously, from afar.

But the most important moment of the day came at my favorite barbershop in town whose name I shant reveal here as I have held it close to me for a long time now. All I can say is: haircut, shave with hot cloth, face massage, head massage--and get this--pedicure--all for $3. Nirvana, indeed.

The traffic is still there and the yoga mat awaits me again tomorrow morning before heading off to Delhi--but not before a cappuccino around the corner.

Prem se

Special 'K': A Beginning

Now I know you may be wanting a personal explanation of what or whom an ekphrasist might be… But I will leave that task to you, consulting wikipedia for the word’s imbrication of Platonic, Socratic, Aristotlean as well as modern origins. I discovered this intriguing moniker courtesy of one ekphrasist to another. Originally, I had opted for something just as elusive: “The Somnambulist” but then I incorrectly spelled the word when making the site. Embarrassed and crestfallen, I withdrew my misspelled title and site name out of fear of reprisals. Then there was “The Caravanserai” but that sounded too much like a restaurant name in Pasadena despite its appealing historical connotations. So Ekphrasist it is. I like the ‘k’ version better than the ‘c’.

Rather than sending lengthy mass e-mails circa 2000, I have opted for this blog as a kind of universal e-mail to family and friends especially to report from the latest outpost for my movements amidst the latitudes: Kabul, Afghanistan. This, I believe, will not be a casual trip to say, Eritrea or Libya—or Iran, for that matter.

At the kind invitation of the Turquoise Mountain Foundation (see website listed), I am going to Kabul to work as a consultant architect for one month. Indeed, a change of scene. While both nervous and intrigued given the geography, reports of very slow internet connections (surprised?), made me think that it was far more convenient and productive to make one of these—a 21^st century chronicle. Not necessarily a travelogue. Even if I cannot include the flash and glitter of video (yet), I also hope to include a few images from afar. And as days pass, and new places are uncovered, the blog will be updated. So here goes…

Dear Diary,

I sit here in the swelter of Kovalam, Kerala, South India to post the first written entry on my blog. No cows are visible today. Only a few flies. On Saturday morning, I will leave the tropics, 7 degrees north of the Equator, first to Bombay and then on to Delhi on 29 January. I am looking forward to return northward, at least for a day to Phillips Antiques and the Prince of Wales Museum. And mutter paneer. Then in Delhi: Fabindia, Madras Cafe and Khan Market…There is a subway now.

From Delhi, on 1 February, I will board an Indian Airlines flight bound for the capital of what looks like a war zone, Kabul. In one hour, I will leave the comforts of a head bauble and lungi, a few phrases of Malayalam and Hindi, and take aim at Dari with my first key phrase, “Mande Rostam” (May you never be tired). I have no idea what to expect and so I am left feeling nervous for no real reason and excited about what lay ahead. Kabul, I read, is relatively stable, secure and quiet these days.

Hopefully, I will be able to maintain the 7 am peregrinations of stretching one’s legs over the shoulders and behind the head in supta kurmasana. I forgot to mention: I have been in India for nearly a month now taking an intensive Ashtanga workshop with Lino Miele, resurrecting what was lost—good posture?—three years ago when I moved to Rome.

A few words in Malayalam for the next time you are in Kerala:

Namaskaram (formal hello)
Sugamanuh (How are you?)
Sugam (response: good)
Parama Sugam (response: [I am] very good)
Pinay Kolam (See you later)
Nale (delicious)
Shobha ratri (Good night)
Nandi (Thank you)

The past week has been a time of festivals in Kovalam. First, the prominent Kali temple commenced with breathy whispers on the microphone calling “Kali…Kali…” in the early morning darkness. This was then succeeded by a blur of drums and trumpets and bells, day-in and day-out, in addition to periodic swings of Bollywood music and bhajans. Soon after, the Vishnu temple by the beach also began its tributes and today the smaller Kali temple up the hill began this morning with bells and chanting. Firecrackers explode hourly. There has been a kind of fateful syncopation to these days. Even at the Hotel Peacock, we participated in a smaller version of the Kali-ma puja replete with a makeshift temple in the front yard and a pujari whose elegant mudras (sacred hand movements) eclipsed the group of gentlemen feverishly playing the drums, trumpets and bells as an accompaniment.

Now though I believe it is time to swim in what may be the confluence of the Arabian Sea, the Indian Ocean and the Lakshadweep Sea—it is difficult to tell on the maps that are hastily attached to walls here. And then, pranayama.

I soon hope to report from the wilds of Bombay and Delhi—but not before completing the last of full practices tomorrow morning. And a fresh pineapple juice.

Prem se