Custards as security threats

On the evening of Tuesday, January 9th, the Immersion group arrived at the Hong Kong Airport to leave for Singapore. We had just finished a long day filled with events and were about to settle down for a 3-hour flight to Changi Airport. Most of us thought it would be wise if we ate in the terminals, especially since we wouldn't land in Singapore until 11:45 p.m. Because there were two checkpoints, a few of us (Mai-Anh, Candis, Susie, Virginia, and I) decided we would go through the first checkpoint before getting something to eat.

Immediately in front of our boarding gate was the second and last checkpoint so we decided that we'd just some noodles at the cafe nearby. I gleefully purchased some egg custard b/c I didn't get a chance, naturally, to buy any during the short days we were in Hong Kong. We bought four custards along with our bowls of noodles, but before we could eat the custards, it was time to board. Foolishly, I packed up the custards in a cute little container. Little did I know.

It wasn't until when we reached checkpoint did we realize they were hand-checking every carryon item for every passenger -- indiscriminately. When it came my turn, I noticed that a few like Gary, Kelly, Theresa, etc. were still stuck in line. As I walked up to my security person, I noticed that they had already boarded about 1/3 of the plane. Of course they would never leave w/o us, but I felt extremely anxious. Mostly it was because of the grim-faced security folks standing there, gloves in hand ready to take apart our bags. We all know the plane would never depart, but it was still a bit nerve-wracking. Pre-occupied as I was with the boarding situation, I didn't pay attention to my custards -- poor, poor custards! I just handed them over to the security guard w/o any reservations.

"What's inside?" He was looking at me through squinted eyes. It still didn't register with me yet. I mean, I'd already gotten rid of the stupid bottles of water. The plane is filling up w/ people, too, Mr. Security.

"What? Inside? Oh, custards. You know, egg custards."
"Open it up."

I gingerly open my box of custards, and there they were, just sitting there surrounded by white carton walls.

"You can't take them on the plane."

"Come again? Can't take them on the plane?"

"They're liquid-y. You can't take them on."

"You're kidding me, right?" I actually said that, and the words surprised even me when they came gushing out. "So, can I give them to my friends to eat while they wait in line?" This is when I should have eaten them. Right there. On the spot. Just stuff them into my mouth as I stood there to prove that I will not explode or die of poison.

"What friends? Who? Where are they?"

I gesture frantically over to Kelly and Theresa in line. "Over there, in line, my friends can eat them...?" Yes, sir, Mr. Security. They're gonna eat the custards and then explode because the custards are so dangerous.

In the end, they tasted the delicious custard and I had to go without. I want to go on record to say that I never ate even one custard while on this trip.

Yeah, custards are dangerous indeed. They were going to make my arteries explode because of their fat content and cholesterol.

Ngam Ngui

Nắng chia nửa bãi chiều rồi
Vườn hoang trinh nữ khép đôi lá rầu
Sợi buồn con nhện giăng mau
Em ơi hãy ngủ... anh hầu quạt đây.
Lòng anh mở với quạt này,
trăm con chim mộng về bay đầu giường.
Ngủ đi em, mộng bình thường!
Ru em sẵn tiếng, thùy dương đôi bờ...
(Ngủ đi em, ngủ đi em.
Ngủ đi mộng vẫn bình thường
À ơi có tiếng thùy dương mấy bờ)
Cây dài bóng xế ngẩn ngơ...
Hồn em đã chín mấy mùa buồn đau?
Tay anh em hãy tựa đầu
cho anh nghe nặng trái sầu rụng rơi...

- "Ngậm Ngùi" thơ Huy Cận, nhạc Pham Duy

Der Dichter

Du entfernst dich von mir, du Stunde.
Wunden schlagt mir dein Flugelschlag.
Allein: was soll ich mit meinem Munde?
mit meiner Nacht? mit meinem Tag?

Ich habe keine Geliebte, kein Haus,
keine Stelle auf der ich lebe.
Alle Dinge, an die ich mich gebe,
werden reich und geben mich aus.

- Rainer maria Rilke

The Poet

You're withdrawing from me, you hour.
The beating of your wings leaves me bruised.
Alone: what shall I do with my mouth?
with my night? with my day?

I have no loved one, no house,
no place to lead a life.
All the things to which I give myself
grow rich and spend me.

- Trans. Edward Snow

Sau Rieng: Durian

In Vietnamese, durian is called "sau rieng," which literally translates into: sorrow alone. Sadness. Sorrowful. Soulful. Individual. Solitary. Lonely. Perhaps eating it causes one to enter into a state of loneliness and sorrow b/c folks who have not grown up with the smell or taste will think it reeks so much that they'll just abandon you completely. Leave you to your solitary pleasure of eating one ripe, sweet, durian.

As kids, the joke is that if you misbehave, you'll be punished by kneeling on durian shells. As a weapon, it's pretty powerful. The odor alone might possibly take out an entire town. Leave a durian in a locked car for an afternoon and you'll know why. and How. Lobb the fruit at someone and you'll get 15 to 20 years minimum for manslaughter. It'll kill, certainement mes amis.

I love the smell of it, the taste of the sweet, creamy yellow flesh. I especially love the candies that people make out of it. The desserts are to die for. The ice cream -- pure heaven. Cold and sweet, sliding down your throat.

Much as I love the fruit, I know nothing about its origins. I only know that Thai thurians are smaller than Malaysian durians. The durians I've always eaten are large, and are most often Thai. I do know they grow in trees. What happens when they fall? Do people get hurt walking under durian trees? Do people WALK under durian trees?

How did they discover this delicious fruit? Why aren't they selling more of them? How come I can only find frozen durians? Why hasn't the rest of the world caught up with durian?

Nghin Trung Xa Cach

Nghìn trùng xa cách người đã đi rồi
Còn gì đâu nữa mà khóc với cười
Mời người lên xe về miền quá khứ
Mời người đem theo toàn vẹn thương yêu
Đứng tiễn người vào dĩ vãng nhạt mầu
Sẽ có chẳng nhiều đớn đau
Nối gót người vào dĩ vãng nhiệm mầu
Có lũ kỷ niệm trước sau
Vài cánh xương hoa nằm ép trong thơ
Rồi sẽ tan đi mịt mù
Vạt tóc nâu khô còn chút thơm tho
Thả gió bay đi mịt mù
Nghìn trùng xa cách người đã đi rồi
Còn gì đâu nữa mà giữ cho người...
Trả hết về người chuyện cũ đẹp ngời
Chuyện đôi ta buồn ít hơn vui
Lời nói, lời cười
Chuyện ngắn chuyện dài
Trả hết cho người, cho người đi
Trả hết cho ai ngày tháng êm trôi
Đường em đi trời đất yên vui
Rừng vắng ban mai, đường phố trăng soi
Trả hết cho người, cho người đi
Trả hết cho ai cả những chua cay
Ngày chia tay, lặng lẽ mưa rơi
Một tiếng thương ôi, gửi đến cho người
Trả nốt đôi môi gượng cười
Nghìn trùng xa cách đời đứt ngang rồi
Còn lời trăn trối gửi đến cho người...
Nghìn trùng xa cách người cuối chân trời
Đường dài hạnh phúc, cầu chúc cho người.
- Pham Duy

As I think back on our various immersion experiences, it has become harder and harder to separate facts from emotions. "Co lu ky niem truoc sau" lam cho minh kho de suy nghi clearly (minh man?) ve nhung gi da thay va nghe. Neu minh lam Tam Khong, thi de biet may! Khong nghe, khong thay, khong noi...

Nhung processing tat ca nhung gi minh nghe thay, the examination of it all, moi lam cho tung ky niem sau sac hon, co y nghia hon. Giong nhu la khi minh examine tung image, tung loi noi, tung hanh dong, minh co ve thich thu hon vi su hieu biet co tham vao cai appreciation deeper hon la normal.

Bai hat nay cua Pham Duy lam cho minh nho rat nhieu ve nhung gi da de lai tai Vietnam, la que huong, la Dat Me, la noi chon rau cat ron. Hinh nhu la doi voi VN, minh luc nao cung theo duoi cai gi do hoi ephemeral, lap lo o ngoai tam tay. Khi o VN thi khong phai la Viet, nhung cung kg phai la My. O tai Hoa Ky thi kg phai la My cung kg phai han la Viet. Luc nao cung bi loai ra ngoai, giong nhu la minh luc nao cung be nghin trung xa cach...

HK: 1st night

The 15Gang left the airport after getting our bags and drove to Caritas Bianchi Lodge (where we stayed until our departure for Singapore). The accommodations were clean and decent, and the staff was nice to the extent that all hotel staff are nice. Tired as we were, we dropped off our bags and then wandered down around for some nighttime sight-seeing. Some folks went looking for banks to pad their wallets, and some folks went browsing through the night market on Temple Street.



It was just like farmer's market except that there were no fresh produce and it was at night. There were plenty of stalls set up selling their wares. We also saw plenty of folks out for their night-time snacks. Tables and plastic chairs were set up along the sides of the street where people sat eating delicious dishes of all varieties.



I was fiercely hankering for some noodles just to warm up and to fill my empty tummy, so after wandering about, Mai-Anh and I went in search of food. We found Jeffrey and a few of the gang already seated with their steaming bowls of noodles. Turns out, regardless of where we ventured, most of us ended back at this little noodle place on the corner of one of the streets, where the sanitation level was a bit higher than questionable.





We all ordered wonton noodle soup or fishball noodle soup. A couple of folks like Allan and Pat were still working on picking up their noodles and wontons with chopsticks, but never fear, there were forks and spoons available. (By the end of the trip, every single person on the trip was a pro with those two little sticks!)



The mouthwatering deliciousness hit the spot for the evening, but truth be told, I didn't think it was better than the noodles that I usually eat in the little dive near my church in Oakland. I suspect it might be because I'm used to the fatty, over-salted broth served at the dive!



No matter what, the food was delicious, and I think a few folks felt somewhat relieved that we weren't served things like balut or durian on the first night. Noodles and soup. Pretty solid foods for the first evening of the trip. Little did they know there was much more in store for them... Mwahahahaha...

We were well-fed, at very cheap prices, too. Each bowl was about 12-16 Hong Kong dollars, which wasn't that much at all, considering 1 USD was about 7.5 (7.8?) HKD. It was happy eating, and then we trekked back to the Caritas for a good night's rest.

Hemos perdido aun

Hemos perdido aun este crepúsculo.
Nadie nos vió esta tarde con las manos unidas
mientras la noche azul caía sobre el mundo.

He visto desde mi ventana
la fiesta del poninente en los cerros lejanos.

A veces como una moneda
se encendía un pedazo de sol entre mis manos.

Yo te recordaba con el alma apretada
de esa tristeza que tú me conoces.

Entonces, dónde estabas?
Entre qué gentes?
Diciendo qué palabras?
Por qué se me vendrá todo el amor de golpe
cuando me siento triste, y te siento lejana?

Cayó el libro que siempre se toma en el crepúsculo
y como un perro herido rodó a mis pies mi capa.

Siempre, siempre te alejas en las tardés
hacia donde el crepúsculo corre borrando estatuas.

- Pablo Neruda, "Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada"

We Have Lost Even

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin between my hands.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book feel that is always turned to at twilight
and my cape rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
towards where the twilight goes erasing statues.

- Pablo Neruda, "Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair"

Arriving in HK: Jan 6th & 7th

Our first day on the trip was a travel day. Some of us BARTed over to SFO and checked in at United's counter w/o complications. Our only minor snafu was the length of time it took for Abby to get her seats. For a brief moment, we thought, oh, Abby will have to stow away in one of our luggage pieces -and there were plenty.

After the 15Gang received seat assignments, along with about 100 other passengers, we packed up our bags, cameras, IPods, sandals, and numberless anxieties and climbed into the plane. Departing from SFO at 12 noon on Saturday, we traveled for what seemed like 50 gazillion hours to arrive at Hong Kong's airport on Lantau Island on Sunday, Jan. 7th, at 7:00 p.m. What a waste of time sitting inside the plane for all those hours, you say? Well, it was rather exciting to know that we flew over Siberia -- something so utterly foreign and distant from my normal existence that I still find it difficult to believe.

Time flew very slowly even though we were speeding at several hundred miles per hour in that metal contraption. We were over-fed with airplane food, and there wasn't enough room to exercise. The Gang was dispersed throughout the plane, with Dr. Kuan and Dr. Tran seated in Business Class. (Humph. Elitists!) Most of us had to crawl over one another to get to the restrooms or to get the circulation in our legs going again. Some of us slept throughout the entire trip (Theresa?) and only got up once or twice. Others ran out of batteries on the IPods and nearly went insane. (Only later did Gary mention that we could have possibly sat in the lavatories to plug in our IPods and watch movies. It's a perfect space, really. Except for the missing flotation device under your seat and a seatbelt, you've got everything you need inside, including a button to call for an attendant. "Would you like drinks with that, sir?")



My seat mate for the trip to HK was Candis (see Candis in photo, front row) -- a lovely individual who continues to surprise me. Candis is a professional musician who very recently retired from the Air Force (She was in the band -- I was in band! Yay! But not so professional like Candis). She and her oboe have a special connection -- she carries Oboe w/ her to all the shows, and there were plenty in the twenty years dedicated to our Air Force. She is an incredible woman, with such stories (like when the band went on tour and the equipment truck caught on fire and the instruments - not Oboe - burned to a crisp. Or like when she entered a mini-triathlon and won first place in her category! )

We arrived at HK airport on Sunday night and were greeted by Undergrads at the University's Dept. of Religion. They escorted us to a bus which drove us through my very first scenes of Hong Kong. The lights, the lights! The buildings shimmering in the reflection in the Bay as we drove and drove.



We checked into the Caritas Bianchi Lodge for the duration of our Hong Kong journey. The lodge was clean, the staff very kind, and the food, oh, the glorious food. Many of us were very pleased to find scrambled eggs and ham and toast and juice and fruits of the recognizable kind. Others of us really enjoyed the Chao/porridge and the rat noodles (no, not those kinds of rats!) and the banh baos. Delicious! We really were fatigued upon our arrival, but knowing that we were standing in HK gave us extra boosts of energy, so we all went exploring Temple Street night market.

Next post, it's all about the night's outing...!

Hong Kong from Victoria Peak

Why am I not living here?!

Hong Kong posted

Just to say photos of the 3 days in Hong Kong have been posted on Picasa. Check out the links to the albums (located on the sidebar).

Shark's Teeth

Everything contains some
silence. Noise gets
its zest from the
small shark's-tooth
shaped fragments
of rest angled
in it. An hour
of city holds maybe
a minute of these
remnants of a time
when silence reigned,
compact and dangerous
as a shark. Sometimes
a bit of a tail
or fin can still
be sensed in parks.

- Kay Ryan,
Shark's Teeth

Jetlag & Photos of Hong Kong

Hom nay la ngay t4, da ve nha duoc 4 ngay roi, ma trong minh van cam thay met moi. Ngu kg dung gio giac gi het. Hom t2 thi kg cam thay met, nhung den hom nay thi bi "jetlag bug" can nen sang thuc day di lam thi nua thuc nua tinh, ve nha thi met la nguoi. Bay gio phai gap rut edit hinh de upload (tai?) len mang. Cuon album dau tien cua chuyen di nay se la hinh cua Hong Kong. Mong rang hom nay hoac ngay mai se lam xong. Hay don cho nhe, cac ban!

Skin: a mortal work of art

Author Shelley Jackson invites participants in a new work entitled "Skin." Each participant must agree to have one word of this story tattooed upon his or her body. The text will be published nowhere else, and the author will not permit it to be summarized, quoted, described, set to music, or adapted for film, theater, television or any other medium. The full text will be known only to participants. In the event that insufficient participants come forward to complete the first and only edition of the story within the author’s lifetime, the incomplete version will be considered definitive.

How to Participate:

1. Write to the author and explain your interest in the project.

2. If you are accepted, the author will email you a Release of Liability. Print it out, complete and sign it, and mail it back. (You may also request a printed copy by post.) By signing the release you attest that you are fit to participate and choosing to do so of your own free will; you release the author from responsibility for tattoo-related misfortunes; you promise not to make public the text of the story; and you give your permission for documentation of the project to be exhibited and/or published.

3. You will receive a letter from the author specifying the word you are assigned.

NB: The words will be passed out in strict order. A participant who does not want the word s/he is given may withdraw from the project altogether, but will not be allowed to apply for another word in hopes of getting a “better” one.

The words have been chosen for the purposes of the story, not for their suitability as decorations. Participants must be prepared for the possibility that the word they receive, once tattooed on their body, will suggest meanings unintended by the author and/or bearer.

Some words will come with a period, comma or other punctuation mark attached. For example, you might receive as your word something resembling one of the following:

(if
example,
following:
all.
“I

4. You are responsible for getting the word tattooed on your body at a tattoo parlor of your choice. Read the following specifications carefully.

You are free to choose the site of your tattoo, except in the case of words naming specific body parts. These may be anywhere but the parts named, e.g. the word “hand” may be tattooed on your foot, stomach, shoulder blade, etc. but not on your hand. This stipulation does not apply to the word “skin” or any of its synonyms, for obvious reasons. The tattoo need not be in a place that is commonly visible (under your hair would be acceptable, for example) but must remain so long enough to be documented in a photograph.

The tattoo may be any size, so long as it can be read with the naked eye.

Tattoos must be in black ink and a classic book font. Words in fanciful fonts will be expunged from the work. No script, italics, German blackletter, etc; no decorations or embellishments of any kind.

5. When the work has been completed, participants must mail the author three items:

1. The completed verification form.
2. A close-up, legible photograph of the tattoo.
3. A photograph of the participant in which the tattoo cannot be seen at all.

6. Participants will receive in return the full text of the story and a signed and dated certificate confirming their participation in the work and verifying the authenticity of their word.

From this time on, participants will be known as "words". They are not understood as carriers or agents of the words they bear, but as their embodiments. As a result, injuries to the printed text, such as dermabrasion, laser surgery, tattoo cover work or the loss of body parts, will not be considered to alter the work. Only the death of words effaces them from the text. As words die the story will change; when the last word dies the story will also have died. The author will make every effort to attend the funerals of her words.

Shelley Jackson
123 7th Ave. Apt. 3
Brooklyn NY 11215
USA
shelley@drizzle.com

Sound of Rain

While visiting the Haw Par Village, we were caught in the cool downpours of Malaysia. Standing under the showers reminded me so much of mưa Saìgòn, mưa Hànội. Because traveling made it difficult to post, I had to wait until now to post this poem, which is dear to my heart. Therefore, this weeks' poem is about the rain. The experience of this poem is slightly marred by my crude and un-versed literal translation of the original. So much is lost in the translation -- far more than the rhythm, the rhymes, the meter, the couplets, the imageries, etc. I can only say that the translation is more of a wild, crazy downpour as opposed to the misty rain of the poet's verses.



Tiếng Mưa

Gió mưa là bệnh của trời
Sầu tư là bệnh của người tha hương

Ngoài trời mưa vẫn cứ rơi
Gợi buồn cho khách phương trời xa quê
Mưa rơi như gọi sầu về
Sầu đong lại thấy tái tê hơn nhiều
Trong gian nhà nhỏ tiêu điều
Nằm nghe mưa gõ tàu tiêu thêm buồn
Ai làm gió táp mưa tuôn
Mưa ơi! mưa có vương buồn như ta
Hay riêng cho khách xa nhà
Gieo thương gieo nhớ, gợi ta điều gì?
Gió mưa chợt đến bất kỳ
Nghe như sầu oán thầm thì trên không.

-Tự Khê, ở Hà Tây


The Sound of Rain

Outside rain continues to fall
Hinting of longings of a guest-traveler heavens-separated from earth-country
Rain falls like calling sadness homeward
Wintry sorrow seemingly frostier than ever
Inside this forlorn space
lying by, listening to rain knock sadness from banana leaves
Who has caused the wind to whistle, the rain to pelt
Rain! Do you call forth such sadness as mine
or is this solely for the guest-traveler far-away from home
casting loves, casting memories, leaving something behind?
Winding rain unexpectedly appearing
So much like sorrow whispering in space.

- trans. HT, December 2006

Tulips for payment

In 1634, tulip bulbs were a form of currency in Holland.
- Snapple "Real Fact" #175

Signing off from Southeast Asia

The trip through Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia, and Vietnam has officially ended. I am now back to my starting point: Hong Kong, on the morning of Sunday, January 21st, HK time. We are waiting to board on flight United 896 to San Francisco.

I have taken more than 600 photos (mostly b/c in Vietnam I didn't take more than 10 photos). This trip was purely devoted to seeing the sights and sounds of VN without standing behind a camera lens.

Since the beginning of our journey in VN, I've had the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse sitting on my chest. No fevers or chills, just a terrible, deep, hacking racking cough that seemed to tear out my lungs. Good news, though. My cold is almost gone.

Our last days in Vietnam included a trip to the beach city Nha Trang, where weather was cool, and the waters clear. The ride home on our bus was loooong, totaling at 13.5 hours from Nha Trang to Saigon. Although the trip was supposed to last only 8 hours, congested traffic and competitions with the free-ranging motorbikes prevented us from reaching our destination at the appointed time. Thus, we all ended up with pancake buttocks.

We arrived in Saigon at 7:30 p.m. and went directly to Que Huong Restaurant where we enjoyed dinner (buffet style) and conversation with some of the seminary students (UCC seminarians who attended class taught by M. in Cambodia in March). Afterwards, I took a ride around downtown w/ Bu, who drove me on the motorbike to Nha Tho Duc Ba and to the Buu Dien. We also purchased durian (sau rieng) for the last time (40,000vnd per kilo at 2.8 kilos for one durian)!! It was DELICIOUS.

Although we missed the opportunity to eat xoi bap (made w/ hominy), we really did enjoy the wonderful fruit.

After cleaning up and repacking for the final trip home, we closed our eyes for some rest at 1:30 a.m. and got up at 2:30 a.m. to check-out. We departed from Dong Phuong hotel at 3:00 a.m. and arrived in plenty of time for our flight at 6:30 a.m.

It is a wonderful thing to be able to use regular restrooms again. I have missed them terribly. It has been suggested that I produce some sort of writing related to our missing "American standard."

Some possibilities:

1. A dictionary of terms regularly used in reference to WCs


2. A picture book w/ large-print descriptions


3. A how-to guide


4. A short story


5. A prose poem

I must also apologize to many of my friends in VN for not being able to reach you. We did really travel non-stop the entire time we were there, and the borrowed cell phone battery only lasted about one day, so it was difficult to contact everyone. It is not possible for me to apologize enough to everyone, and I can only say, the next coffee is on me! Cafe sua da, va co le them mot vai khoai tay chien... yumm!

Next post from HAT shall be from the humble abode in Berkeley.

HAT in SEA

Have been traveling since January 6th. Spent some time in Hong Kong. NOTHING purchased as gift. Spent time in Singapore. NOTHING purchased as gift. Spent time in Malaysia. Purchased in one sitting over $100 worth of batik. C'est la vie.

So much to see, so little time to blog. Even less time to write emails. Ate too much. Pants do not fit. Had to purchase extra big batik skirts in order to fit around expanding waistline.

Have taken almost 600 photos so far. Memory card only halfway full. Many, many gallery photos to be posted - soon.

Have eaten and seen so far:
rat noodles
sea cockroaches
pig ears
deer head
thousand-year old ginseng, worth 1.5 million HK dollars
blood clams

Have visited and conversed with:
3 theological seminaries (faculty, staff, students of STM, TTC, and Chung Chi)
4 church groups
4 social activist/ human rights groups
more than 10 sight seeing locations

Gang is well, except for one person, Baby, who is rather dehydrated, and has taken ill. Two professors have been running amok w/ details and currency exchange figures. All are well-fed and happy.

Much, much more to come...

Woman with Breast

Photo by Dinh Hanh

Religious Sites as Tourist Attractions: Qs

"If we instinctively seek a paradisiacal and special place on earth, it is because we know in our inmost hearts that the earth was given to us in order that we might find meaning, order, truth and salvation in it." --Thomas Merton


Preliminary questions:
1. In what ways can we categorize some of the religious/sacred sites that we’ll visit?
a. Categorize by structure
b. Categorize by purpose/intent of formation
2. What types of visitors might frequent religious/sacred sites? (General characterizations)
3. What can we postulate about the reasons for their visitations of these sites?
a. For personal historical/architectural edification
b. Desiring cultural exposure
c. Seeking salvific or spiritual guidance = worship

Questions for analysis:
1. What theological and religious suppositions do we bring with us when we enter these places of religious significance?
2. How do we interpret the images/icons/symbols that we see?
3. What lenses of analysis do we use when we observe these objects?
4. What informs our understanding of these contexts when we are invited to participate in the rituals?
5. What are the cultural and social foundations (norms/mores/values) that we use as basis for interpreting and understanding the formation/establishment of these places of worship and religious observance?
6. How are our own c/s foundations different from or similar to those of the community near/in/around our visitation site(s)?
7. How might those similarities and/or differences impede or advance our understanding of, interaction with, and participation in the people, culture, and communities that we visit?

For further examination:
Geography of Religion: Where God Lives, Where Pilgrims Walk. Published by National Geographic, 2004. ISBN-10: 0792273133. ISBN-13: 978-0792273134.
Sacred Destinations Travel Guide. http://www.sacred-destinations.com/

Off to SEA...

I just want to say that by this time tomorrow morning, I will be sitting in an airplane flying to Hong Kong, the first destination of my immersion trip to SouthEast Asia. There will lots of reading, eating, riding, and photographs. So much to do, so much to see. Places to be, people to meet... Wish me luck, and I just might bring back some fortune for you to share. ;)

Dinner tidbits

• Bob Brown was an unassuming man of great intellect. He was practically 5 feet tall.


• I was never taught to teach.


• Someone is writing letters to apologize for the American War. There may be a ritual burning of these missives.

Compact Karma

SAN FRANCISCO - It began, as grand ideas often do, over a dinner — risotto, artisan cheese and wine. What would it be like, 10 environmentally conscious friends wondered as they discussed the state of the planet, to go a year without buying anything new?

Twelve months later, the results from their experiment in anti-consumption for 2006 are in: Staying 100 percent true to the goal proved both harder and easier than those who signed on expected.

And while broken vacuum cleaners and malfunctioning cell phones posed challenges, some of the group's original members say the self-imposed shopping sabbatical was so liberating that they've resolved to do it for another year.

"It started in a lighthearted way, but it is very serious," said John Perry, 42, a father of two who works for a Silicon Valley technology company. "It is about being aware of the excesses of consumer culture and the fact we are drawing down our resources and making people miserable around the world."

The pledge they half-jokingly named The Compact, after the Mayflower pilgrims, spread to other cities through the Internet and an appearance on the "Today" show.

As it turned out, The Compact was modest as far as economic boycotts go. Several cities in the United States and Europe have communities of "freegans," people whose contempt for consumerism is so complete they eat food foraged from Dumpsters whenever possible, train hop and sleep in abandoned buildings on principle.

The San Francisco group, by contrast, exempted food, essential toiletries like toothpaste and shampoo, underwear and other purchases that fell under the categories of health and safety from their pledge.

But perhaps because its members included middle-class professionals who could afford to shop recreationally, their cause caught on. Nearly 3,000 people have joined a user group Perry set up on Yahoo so participants could swap goods and tips.

Besides thrift stores and garage sales, participants found a wealth of free or previously owned merchandise in online classifieds and sites where people post stuff they want to get rid of, such as http://www.freecycle.org and http://www.garbagescout.com.

After going through an initial period of retail withdrawal, discovering just how easy it was to score pretty much anything with a little time and effort was an eye-opener, according to participants.

Rachel Kesel, 26, who works as a dog walker, said she was astonished by how often the items she needed simply materialized — the friend who offered a bicycle seat when hers was stolen, the Apple store employees who fixed her laptop at no cost.

Similarly fortuitous timing happened often enough that group members came up with a name for it — "Compact Karma."

After postponing purchases such as a new wind breaker and a different stud for her pierced tongue — she couldn't bring herself to buy a used one — Kesel broke down only twice.

Once was when she was planning a trip to Israel and couldn't find a used guidebook that reflected current political realities. The other was after her commuter coffee cup suffered a fatal crack.

"I really found a lot of times there were things I thought I needed that I don't need that much," she said.

The pledge provided unexpected dividends as well, such as the joy of getting reacquainted with the local library and paying down credit cards. Gone, too, was the hangover of buyer's remorse.

Perry got satisfaction out of finding he had a knack for fixing things and how often manufacturers were willing to send replacement parts and manuals for products that had long since outlived their warranties.

"One of the byproducts of The Compact has been I have a completely different relationship with the things in my life. I appreciate the stuff I have more," he said. "I don't think I need to buy another pair of shoes until I'm entering Leisure World."

Over the holidays, Compact members gave homemade gifts or charitable donations in a recipients name instead of engaging in the usual Grinch-making shopping crush. Kate Boyd, 45, a set designer and high school drama teacher, visited a new downtown shopping mall and felt like she had just stepped off a flying saucer.

"It was all stuff that had nothing to do with me, yet for so many people that's how they spend their weekends," she said. "It's entertainment and it is the opposite of where I've been for a year."

Now that they know they can do it, Boyd, Kesel and Perry are ready to extend the pledge into 2007. But first, they plan to give themselves a one-day reprieve to stock up on essentials — windshield wipers, bicycle brakes and tongue studs.

Yahoo! News, Lisa Leff, Associated Press

Question from the audience

Dear Mr. Kissinger:

Why, do you suppose, is it difficult for some folks to use the name "Viet Nam"? It is the recognized label imposed by the historical Viet lords who wanted to unify the warring regions(oh, was it Lord Nguyen or Lord Le who did that?). It is the official name of the country. It is a title recognized by the UN. It is an honor for millions of Vietnamese - born abroad or in state. Why, then, does the name conjure up -- at least in the American history books and mindsets -- so much negative energy?

Before proceeding, I must thank you for not referring to Viet Nam as "Nam." That term conjures negative connotations and alludes to a whole pantheon of stereotypes, archetypes, and discriminatory ideologies. Not to mention very different political agendas, as well as radically different social and cultural histories.

It must be b/c you were the perpetrator responsible? How does "infamous" calculate into your dictionary of personal descriptive adjectives?

I do, however, find it interesting that you keep referring to Viet Nam as "Indochina." In the late 19th and 20th centuries, up until our last emperor, Bao Dai, capitulated and went into exile, the term Indochina referred to many things, the least of which is a complex history wrought with colonialist manipulations. The violent and war-laden histories of the Vietnamese peoples (we are a rather mixed up bunch of folks) cannot be recounted w/o the chapters on French colonialism. The French term "l'Indochine" is attached to much more than just Deneuve's movie. The power struggles. The political upheavals. The cultural slanderings. The economic deteriorations. The governmental puppeteering. The Emperial overthrowings. Etc, etc, etc.

I offer an alternative: the American War. Actually, it is not I who offer this alternate option but the millions of Vietnamese who, whether or not swayed by the politicking of their government, believe that the conflict was decidedly American as opposed to Vietnam since it was afterall the US "mechanisms" that instigated the ordeal.(This I leave for another day since we've so much to discuss.)

What does Indochine mean to you, Mr. Kissinger? A method of erasing your mistakes? A manner of blame? A deferral? A red herring?

Seeing blind

Dear Kaiser Permanente:

It fills me with great disappointment that I am having to pen this letter with regard to what happened today. But first, I find it important to tell you that I am blind - practically. Although my optometrist thinks I'm far from being legally blind, previous experience tells me otherwise. I have poor vision -- and I don't mean in the sense of dreams and resolutions and life goals. I mean, my optical nerves have problems. I'm nearing blindness in the left eye, and the right one is plagued w/ astigmatism. Glasses limit my range of vision, and they slide all over the place. It's not medically proven in my case, but I swear that wearing these particular glasses give me headaches. By the end of the day, I can hardly raise my head b/c of the weighty glasses sitting on my nose. Besides, they look terrible and donning them gives me the look of a 12 year old. Or an 70 year old grandmama, depending on the day of the week.

Therefore, it is terribly, terribly important that my contacts arrive. SOON. I ordered them almost 3 three weeks ago, and your employees at the Oakland Medical Center promised me that within 2-3 days the replacement lenses will be shipped, and in 5-7 business days, they will arrive in my hot little hands.

They have not arrived.

I had to spend working hours from my office to call through your endless menus and be transferred between 3-4 agents before finding out that my 2 boxes of Focus torics and 1 box of Focus monthlies are actually not filled yet and will not be so until next month.

Why did no one tell me this? Why? I know your facilities and employees are busy. The holiday season has not been friendly and has created an overload of prescriptions to be filled. They did not have the time to call me or email me or even write snail mail (there's been enough time for them to pen TWO letters if they wanted to) to inform me that the lenses are on back order. Nor did they tell me that the lenses will arrive IN FEBRUARY.

You will, hopefully, understand my frustration when I tell you that THIS SATURDAY, I will be leaving the country to travel in Southeast Asia for two weeks. Yes, I know that many places in that part of the world are unsanitary and I probably won't need new contact lenses to clearly show me exactly how dirty things are in SE Asia. But, funny thing is, I'd like to see where I'm going. I'd like to actually see the stuff that goes into my bowl of pho and chow mein and spring rolls. I hope you'll understand my predicament. How am I supposed to see anything when my eyes are blind as bats' eyes?

Sure, Angie was a great helpful in dispensing this information (if only she or one of her co-workers had notified me earlier!) when I called earlier today. But, she couldn't do anything with filling another prescription in another brand name. I know this is not her expertise or within her perview, and she did patch me through to Augustine. Need I tell you, though, that Augustine was thoroughly unhelpful? Even after I explained the fact that I can't see and will be traveling, he took my name, number, and then told me to wait.

You might notice, sirs and madames, that when a person's eyesight begins to fail, other faculties also diminish ever so slightly. My patience is wearing thin. My arms have not the capability of matching the expressions of frustration issuing from my lips. My throat is rather parched, it seems, from so many explanations.

Why is it that Augustine was only able to call me back after I finally contacted his supervisor? Perhaps I failed to catch his attention the first time with my urgent need? Perhaps I was less than persuasive. Perhaps it was my mistake.

Oh, but the mistake is not mine alone. Your employees have also erred and erred gravely they did. I left work early in order to pick up the single trial pair of contact lenses Augustine so grudgingly offered, and when I arrived, a young lady by the name of Hoang told me the torics were supposed to arrive on the 28th and the monthlies should have already arrived on the 18th.

Surprised does not sufficiently describe my reaction. The 18th, you say? What, you mean the lab is wrong in saying the lenses are on back order? If so, where, might I ask, are these elusive lenses, these optical illusions for seeing? They were nowhere to be found. Alas, alas... more phone calls will have to be placed tomorrow, more time spent glued to the phone, more energy expended in explaining my problem, more disappointment.

I cannot tell you how disappointed I am in your services. I know Your employees have not had enough time with family and friends, and so they are embittered and tired and unaccommodating. I suggest you offer higher benefits and increase the perks for working in your multiple facilities. Throughout this ordeal, I've tried to remain calm and understanding and friendly. These are not the folks who are responsible for this error. It is not my intention to assign blame. I do not wish to punish anyone. I simply want to inform you of the -- lapse -- in your protocols. Informing your patients would be a great service in fulfilling your responsibilities are our healthcare provider. I also want my contact lenses. I do not think it is an extremely difficult request. I do not want compensation (though I think it isn't too farfetched to give me something for the emotional, physical, and psychological trauma your services -- or lack thereof -- have caused?).

It is my sincere wish that I will not have to write another letter, since I may not be able to see very well without my contacts, and it pains me greatly to be squinting in frustration.

I am bold to request an acknowledgement from you regarding this letter.

Sincerely yours,
HAT

Green Girl II

Inside this color is silence. The music I hear are written of multitudinal chords, scales rising and falling to thrilling, unfamiliar rhythms. Each measure calls to me and I am borne from note to note.

Poem of the Week: 01Jan07

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes
over the prairies and the deep trees
the mountains and the rivers
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
- Mary Oliver

Since we are starting over for the new year, I resolve to post once a week a poem that I find exceptionally meaningful. For the first week of 2007, I choose Mary Oliver's 'Wild Geese" for the beauty of the landscape, for the nature embedded within each line, which calls me back to the plight of the earth. It reminds me of the connection of things - the global, the internal and external, the spaces where we all fit. The shared stories, the spoken, the unspoken, and the unspeakable. The family of things.

Many sides of hat: non la

I've written and spoken, too often perhaps, about the complexity of living as a hybridized HAT. Nhung khong phai moi su nhac den la dung, va kho hon nua la, chang co viec gi trang den. There is a particular hat for each occasion. Or, there may be multiple hats needed at the same time. Depending on the time and place, only certain hats will do. Red hat, yellow hat, pointed rat, bowler hat, rounded hat, rimmed hats, tied hats, floral hats, plain hats, tall hats, dirty hats, new hats, even borrowed hats. Sometimes, an unfitting hat.

Some folks understand the mistakes of donning certain hats in public that are commonly displayed only in private sittings. Hyacinth "Bouquet" would never allow an inappropriate hat to be worn in public. Unfortunately for many of us, there are too many days and nights when it's impossible to tell whether a hat is exactly right for public or private viewing. Who determines whether the hat is appropriate or not?

For this month, the very first of the new year, I've chosen the conical hat. It is three dimensional; it has contours and lines; it holds shadows and throws off light; it has a single point from which all else radiates; it is marred in certain places, and it can hold writen poetry between its leafy layers; it is round and is endless with no beginning or end; it scoops up depth and creates currents of air; it spins in circles and topples in angles. It is a hat of many uses and even more symbolism. It is more than just an object. It is a distinctly Viet image, iconic in proportions, but widely mis-represented and even more often mis-used.

The hat I cannot describe.

Reasons to celebrate