it's not the end again

12.29.14

Well here we are again at the end.

It’s not the end if you’re from Nepal or Sri Lanka or China or even the Arab states.  They follow lunar calendars.  I got seven moons left here.

And you’ll know by the seventh moon which road you’ll take on this crazy adventure of yours?

I hope so but there is always the possibility I won’t but that’ll be a different road, right? The road of uncertainty.

The road to stress, the avenue to cardiac arrest.  I know you tire of constantly moving, what hopes do you have that this move will be the last?

If the road to becoming a student again closes then Salalah is the first choice. The beaches and the mountains are a pretty special combination.  I can live there until all my teeth fall out.

That could be sooner than later.

I know a good dentist there. 

So, the highlights of 2014?

I went to Sarangkot three times.  I like to go where I don’t need reservations. 

Sarangkot is changing, isn’t it?

They are having a growth spurt, everyone is building, the temple at the top is going up fast.  The village combined its Village Development Committee with Pokhara and folks will have to pay taxes soon, the hope of course is improvements in water, electricity, and garbage pick up.

So it’s no longer the quiet little hamlet you stumbled on five years ago.

The views of the Himalayas are still pristine, it’s just a little noisier. 

Any other highlights?

I bought a new camera and it is a complicated little bugger, but so far it’s done alright.  There’s a lot to learn.

I am also blessed to have had so much time to read and I almost forgot, this computer.  Imagine my first year here with no computer.  I read more I guess.

You got a new computer, you have internet (!) a new camera…

And I bought a car!

Sounds like you’re settling in.  Why the hell leave?

Well I can take everything with me.  Almost. 

What were the lowlights of 2014?

I hate what the media does to information, making every event a breaking story where they dissect, regurgitate and worst, speculate, creating opinions they call news. Second, there’s just too much information and now we have to wade through billions of opinions.  I think people (I know, an opinion) were generally better off when they didn’t know of the atrocities going on around them every hour of the day. 

And you think we are more accountable because we know now how bad the world is?

In his Christmas address Pope Francis said the war in Syria had gone on too long.  There was, is, just too much suffering and I think there is too much suffering because we now know there is too much suffering. And what can we do about it?  Practice charity at home, pick a cause, meanwhile a child freezes in a refugee camp. We can help one, maybe two but there will always be 1000 we can't. Someone ought to be accountable.  
 

We suffer, to some extent, from a great paradox.

I agree.  When I trek in the Himalayas or when I greet a glorious sunrise I cannot doubt the Creator who gave us such majestic moments and places.  But when children suffer through no fault of their own, I lose faith.  I don’t know how to believe. 

But you do, you continue to believe.

I guess nature is a great restorer of hope and faith. 

You had some curious ideas in the past year; creating a new testament with Paul’s letters placed after the book of Revelation, your recent suggestion that ‘salvation history’ could be adopted by all major faiths.  Anything more on these?

If I go back to school, pursuing these ideas without a support system and working full time, well, what I have is what I put in this blog.   I am only skimming the surface in an endless pursuit of truth.

best reads of 2014

12.27.14

Even with a car my habit to remain in the grotto and not spend a dime at least one day a week holds strong.  It’s not keeping me from going to mass, though I waffle an hour away from making that decision.  

I finished Margaret Fuller this afternoon and am glad to have been introduced to a true revolutionary.  A tragedy for this woman and her family to have died within shore, a great loss for women rights.  So, it appears you won’t finish another book this year, what were your five favorites?  In descending order:

5.  Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand

You always know you got a good book when you think about it all day and can’t wait to return to it and finish it.  An inspiring story which left me feeling good about humanity in spite of humanity’s evil in times of war.

4.  The Last Crusade by Nigel Cliff

The Vasco Da Gama I never knew in high school.  So, it wasn’t just spices the boys wanted, they wanted to drive out the Muslims from Jerusalem so Jesus would return and establish this earthly kingdom.  I don't know, it just feels like a ruse, or a terrible mistranslation somewhere along the line.  Time is relative, right, and God-time sucks. 

And I was surprised at first with the Portuguese’s first encounter with Hindus.  They thought they were a strange Christian sect.  This was an enjoyable read.

3.  The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

I would love to write like this.  And I love what it did to me.  I got lost and was sorry to finish it.

2.  What am I doing here?  by Bruce Chatwin

This is probably the only book I’ll take with me when I leave here.  It’s a collection of stories where some left me breathless and others that left me wondering why I didn't know this before, this is why man is aggressive.

1.  East of Eden by John Steinbeck

I understand why we read The Grapes of Wrath, Tortilla Flat, The Pearl, and Of Mice and Men in high school and I understand why we didn’t read East of Eden and I am so grateful I read it now.  Every line is poetry, warm butter on the back of your throat.  How can anything I read after this come close, I don’t know.

So, what’s next.  I’ll go through the magazines, contemporary thought to finish the year though yesterday’s purchases look at me and wait with baited breath.

I am out of zantac.  I wish I didn’t need to take the stuff, putting on a pair of running shoes and losing the extra weight that causes this discomfort would be better but this dusty dirty truck stop does not inspire.  Well, with a car now you can drive out to a solitary gravel road off the main road and run to your heart’s content.  Right.

I must have burned a few calories today.  I swept the floors, cleaned the sinks and toilet, spot wiped floors, washed clothes and…and that’s it.  I cannot decide whether to renew the border pass.  I will have to go to Muscat and have the embassy stamp again a copy of my diploma.  Blah.  Why in the world do I have to submit all the papers again?  Nothing has changed in three months, dudes.  How about a cup of tea?  I still have to iron.

8.16pm

I didn’t go to mass and I feel bad about it.  Well, it’s crossing the border that made me hesitate.  Say they have an eight am service tomorrow, whaddaya say, go to bed right now and you can make that.  It is tempting.  Then after mass I can go to Tim Hortons for sour cream donuts and good coffee. 

So tomorrow it’s week 12, a month to go I told the students last week.  They are ready for a break, this is a hard program for kids who weren’t challenged in high school and that includes all of them.  They also take math and IT classes and some come to the ‘campus’ (I quote that word because this isn’t a campus, a campus has trees and places to sit and this whatever it is has neither) early in the morning and stay all day.  A holiday is coming, another prophet’s birthday, we may get Thursday or Sunday off.  It is unlikely we’ll get the former off, I mean that is January 1 and every closet alcoholic will descend on the Buraimi Hotel. 

Workers are drilling in the new shops below and it is irritating.  When will they stop, I don’t know but there’ll be no sleep until they are done. 

Any last thoughts on this Christmas  2014?  Well I didn’t wish for anything.  I bought a car and it was more of a timing thing than a decision to buy it at this time of year. 

Any last thoughts on the year?  Give me a few days to think about that.  One thing that sticks out.  This was the first year since 2008 I had one address.  And you’ve decided on another place next year.  Ya, it tires.

curvaceous lips

12.26.14

There was pleasure driving to Dubai at eight this morning on an empty road; arriving at the Dubai Mall to an empty underground parking lot, walking past shops still preparing for the day, gates raised high enough for employees to crawl under, and then to find two books and a couple of magazines at the largest bookshop on the peninsula, to find a coffee shop later and indulge in western sensibilities and then return to Al-Ain and shop unsuccessfully for a tie-clip and belt, successfully for two white Marks and Spencer t-shirts, cigarettes, smoked salmon and having a hot dog and fries at the New York Fries kiosk before finally crossing the border and returning to a quiet grotto.  Such freedom to go and do what I wanted to at my own time almost felt normal, something I did five years ago with reckless abandon.  Such selfish indulgences, God forgive me for enjoying life for a few hours and not weeping for humanity’s utter eternal misery.

The lighter-usb gadget worked well and there was music each way, windows down, temps comfortably Decemberish, the rich red sands of eastern Al-Ain beckoned me to pull over and take photos but I didn’t.  I will probably not take a single image in the city again, Lord knows I’ve done that hundreds of times already, but dune lips enticed with their smooth timeless curvaceousness.  There are no sands like these on the other side of the fence, but there are mountains and we will go there soon, perhaps next week, the first or second day of the bloody new year.

I bought Thomas Pynchon’s latest book Bleeding Edge, the first and maybe only Pynchon book I’ll ever purchase but I read the first page and understood it so we’ll see.  I also picked up Doris Goodwin Kearn’s hefty bio of FDR and his wife, No Ordinary Time, and the December issue of Harpers and the year-end issue of the Economist.  I’m so thankful to have good reading at my disposal.  Fucking eh, it’s one thing to be denied companionship but to take away the pleasure of escaping in the pages of great writing would be too much.  I also decided not to bring any booze across the border.  I just don’t like feeling like crap when I drink.  Still, sobriety can bum. 

Whenever the doorbell rings I know it’s a beggar.  This time the woman in black has a toddler, a cute chubby girl who takes my offering and says shukran.  Before I close the door she looks at the door to mine left but mother pulls her away. 

I never make resolutions and there’s no reason to start now but I have to be proactive and move towards the goal that leaves me aching to be somewhere else.  Where do you want to be?  Where I am happy.  The world is such a bummer place and I know so much of my ‘happiness’ depends on people, can’t I be where I am doing what I am good at with people who will inspire me to do good?  Is that too much to ask for?  I don’t think so.  So, how can you reach that habitation, that utopian field of dreams.  What a gamble it would be, wouldn’t it, to go to that place, find a job and then take classes I need to make an income doing what I am good at.  It’s a great gamble if you consider this,  you become so dejected quickly, remember where you are now, I mean really, you read 24 books this year, countless magazines and newspapers, where else could you do this?  You’re talking me out of it, dude.  And returning to school?  Is Leuven out already?  I can’t move forward without the transcripts.  Sigh.  What to do.

Was it a little strange that all week the morning skies have been clear except for Christmas day?  This morning it was clear.  I considered going out on the twenty-fourth but the skies were clear.  And I wouldn’t have gone out yesterday if the skies were clear but they weren’t. 

The 2002 Honda has 457,600,000 yards on it.  At 120km per hour it was a smooth ride except for the odd popping, clinking noises underneath.  I didn’t lower the volume to Creed to discern causes or location.  I tired of thinking what I’d do if the car broke down.  I don’t have a number to any garage that could tow it back to where I don’t know.  These were awful thoughts and the more I thought of them the worse I feared so I turned up the music and put my faith in God.  God.  A colleague asked if I was attending the presentation given by the university’s new insurance company Thursday afternoon.  “I don’t believe in insurance.”  The priestly colleague to my right quipped, “you shouldn’t have insurance if you believe in God.”  And if you’re healthy and you don’t live somewhere where health care is expensive.  Ya, if you got kids I guess it helps.  If you don’t make enough money, I understand it helps.  I don’t know a single Nepalese with insurance and yet they live to a healthy ripe old age. 

That’s what’s happening in America.  Constant weather changes, poor eating habits, too much tv, too much farting around and they get sick.  Americans need insurance because they get sick and they bring it on themselves.  A Nepalese gets sick and eats some medicinal herbs growing in a field close by.  They aren’t stricken by the same bring it on diseases Americans afflict themselves with.  Cancer, damn.  I haven’t met a single Nepalese who has had cancer.  What is that all about?  How many Americans died of cancer 100 years ago?  Margaret Fuller’s father died very young of a type of cholera from working in his fields.  Damn.  And those diseases don’t appear in Nepalese rice fields?  Nope, not anymore at least. 

Lays has a new potato chip—Labneh and mint.  They taste sort of like sour cream with of course mint.  Yum.  I needed something to go with this diet pepsi and profane Indian whiskey.  Why the hell are you drinking it when you could have brought back a bottle of Mr. Jamesons?  I know I know.  Maybe I should pick up something tomorrow if I go to the six pm mass.  I need to go.  I’ve missed the last three Fridays. St. Mary’s is celebrating Christmas on 9 January, I believe to accommodate the Orthodox though I didn’t know there were many if any.  They don’t have a mass listed among the dozen languages celebrating.  What is the language of the orthodox?  Greek?  Russian?  Are there Orthodox Americans who speak their own ancient English, a pre-Elizabethan, pre-King James, pre-Chaucer discourse where they meet secretly in the catacombs of Kentucky and New Hampshire whispering Christian treacheries, pre-capitalism, pre-Milton Friedman, a true commune that’s probably legalistic and explains why they still gather underground shunning everyone and everything to light candles made from bees they catch by hand.    

Ya, Indian whiskey makes me vomit.

thanks Mr. Bailey

12.24.14

This is the first time I can ever recall where I am not expecting any miracles on Christmas Eve.  Yes, I used to imagine the spirit of the season bringing an indescribable moment in my life that would change everything, or a sign to the world that all would be good.  I was never disappointed the following day because I knew my expectations were always half-baked.  I’d sigh and chastise myself for thinking so foolishly.  But now, it’s only a Wednesday.  There are no expectations.

Today was speaking assessment number two and I finished at 7.30pm, drove home, ate my usual pita with cheese, tomato and cucumber things, watched the news for a few minutes, quickly scanned social media, I know those I know with families enjoy this time of year and rightly so they should, it’s supposed to be a time to celebrate the birth of Jesus, all wars and malice toward each other are laid aside, even if just for a day. 

When was the last time you enjoyed such a moment with family I’d have to go back to the beginning.  I just wanna get through this day.

I’m not gonna touch that foul whiskey though I’d like something.  It’s too late to walk to the hotel, I have to go in tomorrow.  I did cancel the level meeting and tutoring sessions so there’s really nothing to do.  One of the teachers has organized a pot luck in an office, I’ll bring the chocolate short bread cookies I bought a week ago and never got to myself.  In another life I would have made something from scratch. 

And I won’t drink anything tomorrow unless I cancel the drive to Dubai on Friday.  Sometimes it stinks being sober when you live alone.  I’ll listen to Dylan now:

Well It ain’t no use sittin n wonderin why babe, if you no don’t know by now

That’s right it ain’t no use sittin around and wonderin what the hell is going on.  Nothing is going on, this is the life you have chosen from very few options.   

12.25.14

A cloudy pre sunrise was enough to get up and drive out to see that hot mass escalate and it was nice but it was also a tad chilly and now eight hours later I have a sore throat so I started taking grapefruit seed extract again and made an Irish coffee.  I went to the office at nine and left at 1pm.  Colleagues had a pot luck Christmas and the director was kind enough to make a presence and remind everyone to pray for all who suffer on this day.  It was touching and worthy of an Amen.  So what are you doing for Christmas dinner?  You jest.  Yesterday a tex-mex fast food restaurant opened up next to McDonalds.  Should I venture out for a Christmas Chimichanga?  I think I’ll climb back into bed.

8.00pm

I am glad to own a copy of It’s a Wonderful Life.  I know I’m a Grinch this time of year but George Bailey reminds me of the gift of life and no matter how depressing it gets, there is something I, we, give to each other that makes it worth it.  Sure, I heard the Pope’s message today, he was imploring the all-mighty and merciful creator to share a little bit of that mercy for Christians who are suffering in ways that are so unimaginable one wonders what kind of faith they have but they do have faith and every minute they’re praying for deliverance.  Forgive me Lord for my whining, the miracle I stopped expecting is around me every day.  It’s what I take for granted, shelter, food, clothes and the freedom from war and fear.  Lord, if I stop whining and start thanking you every day for this life would you do something for those really bad off?  When their faith is reduced to surviving each day, when their faith is in the hope that they would see heaven, that they’d see YOU!, how can you wait any longer, how can you?  Maranatha, Lord Jesus Come.