more than a lost bag

March 30th at 10:35pm I received unexpected phone call from my friend. He asked what was in my backpack and how much it was worth because his care was just broken into. Someone smashed his back window, took his GPS system, ipod, some personal items and my backpack. Quickly I tried to recall what was in it of importance, thankfully not any wallet or passport. The backpack itself and my ipod were the most expensive things I lost-around £80. I mainly focused on how he was, especially since he was getting married 5 days later-horrible timing!

It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized all that I had lost; it was more than a bag and its contents. The biggest loss was my journal from the last 6 months, something I had hoped to look back on years from now. It was filled with memories and reflections on my time in London-names of new friends, observations of a new community, a log of ideas and desires, notes of new tastes, words and sounds, a testimony of solace within transition. I had a small hand-sized journal of personal writing, collected notes and favourite quotes of friends, authors, heroes-people who have shaped how I see the world and myself. Only some of them did I record elsewhere. I had Belgian chocolate to give away-Cote D’Or. I had one tiny chocolate from Leonidas I had kept from my last day in Belgium from a café, a Belgian lager, an ipod given by a friend from the states, an 8GB USB that held 100s of documents and articles of different subjects, my small print leather-bound Bible. Its worn cover, battered pages and penned in comments gave its own history. Then there were random items I habitually had in there: athletic tape, penknife, sharpie, paper, notes, and water bottle. Most obvious is the backpack itself. I won it in a six mile trail race on Signal Mtn, TN, USA March 2005 by getting 3rd place after wrenching my ankle the first mile on a rock. I stubbornly ran on after stopping a few minutes. It was not a smart thing to do. I hobbled around with an ice pack the rest of the day. It was a nice trail pack that I would never let myself buy but I loved. I used it all the time with my nomadic lifestyle. I took it to 5 countries, backpacking up mountains, canoing across rivers, running/hiking through forests…it didn’t look very good but it held a lot of memories. And now it is gone. I couldn’t even post a photo of it here since I never took one. I know all of this sounds ridiculous but I thought I’d share. I’m not creative enough to make this sound like a eulogy but maybe you’ll see that this is about more than a lost bag.

Belgium

It was a bit last minute but I went to Belgium last weekend, Friday morning through Monday afternoon. Everyone I met there said I had perfect timing since the sun was out almost the entire time I was there! Leaving at 6am on the train to Brussels meant that it was still dark outside and going through the Chunnel didn't seem as momentous. I actually didn't even pay attention to went we "went under". I had arranged with friends of my parents to meet them upon my arrival, having never met them though, I was banking on my childhood recollection of their photo on my fridge. Thankfully we spotted each other; otherwise the weekend would have been quite different! In Harrow, I am used to hearing Gujerati, Hindi, and Polish which was a contrast from the French, Flemish and Dutch I heard in Belgium.
We enjoyed a full breakfast with lots of bread, which I loved. They showed me around a bit of center city giving a summary of its history and recent changes in demographics with immigration and Brussels' position in the EU. It is always nice to be shown around by locals. We went back into town that night, ate at a Greek restaurant and walked to the Grand Place to see the magnificent medieval constructions. I loved the atmosphere given by having only foot traffic, small shops and a cool clear night.


Saturday I woke up early and played tennis with two guys and had coffee afterwards. It was on clay, which was definitely different than I was used to but I am so bad anyways it did not legitimately mess with "my game". We decided to go to Bruges, known as the Venice of the North. It was another beautiful day and we decided to explore the canals. The architecture is amazing! I went up the immense 13th c. belfry with over 45 bells constructed to play various songs (view photos of the weird, massive wheel). The Beguinage was exceptionally attractive with their flowers in bloom and the stream running through the main square.



The next day they introduced me to some friends in Ghent. The city has a rich history like Bruges but unlike Bruges it has a local community which gives it more life and present cultural colour. We were blessed with sunshine again but the wind was still chilly. It was in Ghent that I bought my first Belgian waffle. We were passing by on the street and I could smell it, hmm. They put small bits of sugar in with the batter so that it crystalized when heated. I lack the vocabulary to describe what a large, warm, and sweet Belgian waffle tastes like so use your imagination. The last highlight of the day was having drinks together on a terrace looking out towards a cobblestone square between two cathedrals. The sun went down and it got cold quickly.










My last day, I had breakfast at the Cafe Metropole in the most famous hotel in Brussels. It was expensive but worth it, plus I got to explore the hotel without paying. After two busy days, i enjoyed slowing down. I went to a local grocery store, bought some waffles to take home and chocolate-Cote d'Or. Knowing that I love bread, when I saw a shop selling varieties of olive oil from around the world I couldn't resist going in. After several different tastes, it turns out that I like Moulin Des Penitents-Andre Pinatel from AOC Haute-Provence, France the best. I couldn't afford their smallest quantity but it is good to know. As for beer, there were over 250 to choose from in one shop, most of them mixing in fruit of some kind. I grabbed a few of the non-fruit kind-Chiray, Leffe and Duval. I normally don't treat myself to these kind of luxuries, but "when in Belgium" (an abuse of a "when in Rome" I admit, which my brother at least will catch a reference to something else). I explored some chocolate shops but was rather selective with my purchases. I found the most famous statue in Brussels dedicated to the boy who according to legend put out a fire that threatened to burn down the palace. Every time a foreign diplomat comes to Brussels, they need to dress him in new clothes. The old outfits have been kept to be viewed, the most valued second hand clothing I know of in the world! I had a pint of Krab, the local Belgian beer of the month at a pub across from the statue-evidently every beer has its own distinct glass.
I know I've skimmed through the weekend and probably focused on things that others would not have but I enjoyed the weekend. The main highlight was meeting and making friends with my parents' friends there, hearing and sharing stories over the last 24 yrs. It was well worth the trip and we hope to see each other again. Well, that was my fully loaded weekend!

Happy Holi!

Last Tuesday, I went with a friend to Holi, the Hindu Festival of Colours, which celebrates the coming of spring and the conquering of good over evil by throwing colors on each other. It was the night before, so they had a bonfire with coconuts inside reminding them of the story surrounding the occasion. I wasn't sure what to expect, and being one of the only non-Indians and knowing only one person made me hesitant to get involved. My friend and I bought some bags of coloured powder, which is supposed to be washable, and went outside. People put a little of the colour in their palm and smeared it on someone's face saying "happy holi!" I was curious to see how orderly this colouring of each other would be. Having orange thrown into my face by a nine year old confirmed that I welcome to join in the fun. It resembled kids running around chasing each other in a waterfight, but with coloured powder instead. I joined in tossing, rubbing colours on anyone and everyone while also getting colours in my ears, eyes, mouth, on my neck, anywhere that was penetrable. I enjoyed meeting new people, making new friends and seeing all the colours and smiles in a city that is normally dark and melancholy, especially in the winter.
Last night, I went with some famiies from the youth clubs I run to a larger celebration and thankfully still had the clothes I used previously. This time it got more messy but it was nice to have a posse to celebrate the experience with. It took more than one shower but I did eventually get all the colours out! They told me it is crazy in India with waterguns and thousands of people; too bad I'll miss it by only a few weeks when I go.

Happy Birthday!

While I moved into a new home to celebrate my birthday, my triplet brother and sister entered Disneyland to celebrate theirs. Yet despite being separated by thousands of miles, we both shared adventures. For eight years my birthday fell on spring break, so I developed a habit of not really planning much for it. I was thankful to have others here initiate a night out with friends for pizza and complimentary tiramisu! My birthday morning, Monday the 9th, was a beautiful day and I thought it would be amazing to go to the countryside for a drive. Having no car, I was overjoyed when I received a call from a couple here who offered to take me for a spin and out for lunch at a pub! It was nice to get out of the city, see the country, drive down narrow, hedged in roads, see old churches and towns, farms, animals, SPACE. We found an old pub, with dark lagers and savoury meals. What a birthday treat!

ASHA Anniversary

Last Saturday, the charity shop I work at, ASHA (meaning "hope"), celebrated their 2nd year anniversary! We cleared out the front room, put on some mats and chairs, and brought Indian snacks and drinks to welcome over 70 people: customers, neighbor shop owners, and volunteers. The shop was closed but we still had several new people join in. I loved seeing everyone connect and tell their stories. We sang bhajans, heard more details about the specific charities we support and had a few prayers of thanksgiving.

I will be going to India next month and will visit some of the charities we support in heathcare, education and small enterprise. I'll soak up as much of that trip as I can and fill in more about the work going on. As far as the details of my journeys, I am still working on that. I have been told it will be very hot, which is completely fine with me considering how cold it is here! Being able to visit India and have a story of my own will help me connect even more with charity efforts like those at ASHA. There is beautiful traditional clothing but mostly for women, I hope to find something for my sisters and mum.

Art week!

The youth clubs I help run in Kenton and New Life Suwarta Sangat(http://www.nlss.org.uk/) hosted a kids half-term arts week February 18-21. Over 45 kids came! They were ages 6-12, divided younger and older. A team of eleven people came from California with all the art and craft supplies. With their help plus a number of kids from the community, the week was a huge success. Each day we did arts and crafts from 9:30-12:00 with a snack break. We then gathered in the front room to hear a story or teaching about God the Creator and sang songs together from 12:00-12:30.
The kids were so excited to come each day and several parents said they got up early to make sure they arrived on time! Many of the volunteers were older youth I've come to know in the community. We also had a few parents join us. Everyone learned a song about the virtues of life called “Rappin Fruit” which also related to a series of sketches performed each day. On the last night, we had a slideshow of photographs for all the parents to see. We shared a big meal afterwards and viewed all the projects from the previous 4 days. It was a joyful time to connect with the families and meet new people. All of them wanted to know when the next kids week would be. It won't be until late July; we hope to see many of them return.

Haircut

I readily admit that making a post about a haircut seems ridiculous, especially being a guy. The fact is that I've had quite the experience thus far in London and wanted to share it. I am 23, my mom, sister and friends have always cut my hair. I found a voucher for a free haircut at a high-class salon in London-Vidal Sassoon. My hair was about 7 inches long and getting ridiculous and thought I'd see what a student might do with the "bush".
For my first haircut (pic 1) I am very glad I brought a book. I was there for 3 hours. I read a good portion of the book, I have no idea how people do this on a regular basis! None of the students wanted to tackle the beast, and the one who ended up with me was dumbfounded in where to begin. They asked what my feeling and philosophy was for my hair, the words "butcher" and "tame" are not words artsy barbers hear often. Supposedly I was getting a new "shape" to my hair. You know you get bored when you actually decide to follow the process of a haircut, kind of like knowing the exact process of a teeth cleaning. Well 3-4 inches later I was actually pretty happy with my haircut (picture 1). The only "shape" that was attained though was square-hard to judge curly hair I guess.

6 weeks later i got a free voucher at Vidal Sassoon from students focusing on guys' hair. I decided to go for it and be willing to go with whatever they did. I had a good book again, and somehow landed a Japanese student and her translator. It amazes me all the language, strategy, methods they have for a simple cut. 90min in, with just the top left to cut I quickly realized they were not planning on cutting the top at all. I had instructed them that I wouldn't mind it being longer than the sides. Look at the second photo, I am not sure what they call this type of cut. I had to hold back my laughter! yes there is an "optional part". I wouldn't have minded a mohawk but ended up with a Kramer look. And worse than that, they had cut irregularly in the front. The student was extremely grateful for me being patient and cheerful; it had made her more relaxed. I was her first client in her time in the UK. That, plus not having more time for a "fix-up", made me decide to just live with it. Despite thinking I looked ridiculous, i was bold and confidently walked around London that afternoon but late that night I gave in and cut the rest of it myself, resulting in picture 3.

OVERALL my mother, sister and friends have done a better job with my hair...but maybe that's b/c they never felt burdened with the "transformation" and creation of a style. I won't need a cut until mid-summer and the saying is probably true: the difference between a good and bad haircut is two weeks.

Picture 1-first haircut 2-the experiment 3-the resolution