Monday, July 18, 2005
silicon valley traffic
now that i'm back in the land of PDA's and YOT's (yuppie offspring transport), i have to state that crossing the street is incredibly boring. traffic here is very predictable. people move to the right of the road before turning right and so on...how dull! ; )
Friday, July 15, 2005
back in the usa
so i landed at SFO on wednesday afternoon, my body is here but i think my mind is still at 10.82º N latitude, 106º longitude. the moments between clear waking states are still punctuated by images of streets crowded with mopeds, roadsides littered with drying coconut husks and myriads of smiling children. i've come home with over 6000 photos. fleeting moments and expressions captured, each containing its own little universe of characters, plots and moods. all those elements are like threads in a tapestry. we will see how the stories will re-tell themselves...
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
on a motorbike with a buddhist nun
so i have to say that one of the highlights of this trip has been riding on the back of a motorbike with a buddhist nun!
we were in van hanh village and visiting five families of children we sponsor to help keep them in school. they are poor and live in remote areas of the village. some even have no land to build on and they live on grounds provided to them by a temple.
it was a touching afternoon. learning how difficult life is for these people yet seeing how they are able to carry on with no help and never for a moment lose their dignity is a powerful thing.
in short, the day's experience contained enough for a novel. some experiences change you in ways that might take lifetimes to understand. the subtleties are endless...
we were in van hanh village and visiting five families of children we sponsor to help keep them in school. they are poor and live in remote areas of the village. some even have no land to build on and they live on grounds provided to them by a temple.
it was a touching afternoon. learning how difficult life is for these people yet seeing how they are able to carry on with no help and never for a moment lose their dignity is a powerful thing.
in short, the day's experience contained enough for a novel. some experiences change you in ways that might take lifetimes to understand. the subtleties are endless...
Sunday, July 10, 2005
wide sea of greens
we are into the Mekong delta now. left and right there seem to be endless rice paddies or other crops. there are women working the fields. banana groves demarcate the edges of fields. every bit of available land seems to be put to use to some sort of agriculture as long as there is not a building sitting there...
Sunday, July 03, 2005
14D Cong Ly Street
at 14D Cong Ly Street, Saigon
So today the gang went out to lunch in downtown Saigon at this cool place called Quan An Ngon (literally translates to: Place Eat Well, or A Place to Eat Well). The building was very cool and obviously was old enough to date back to the colonial era. It was a villa laid out in a rectangular manner with a perimeter and then a center building leaving an arcade surrounding the central structure. The street it was on was definitely the same street as the street the old house that I grew up in was on but something seemed unfamiliar. As it turns out after we got out of the restaurant I looked and there was an adjacent alley. I thought to myself that this might be the old place so I follow it. The alley is currently being used as a moped parking lot. As I walked down about 20 meters it turned right at a right angle. As I turned the corner, I realized this was the alley leading to my grandfather's house. It was at the end of the cul-de-sac and the gates and adjacent buildings were unmistakable to me once I saw it. What I didn't recognize was beyond the gate.
I had been here only five years ago and there was no building in what used to be the driveway, courtyard and garden. The fish pond had been filled years ago and there was a cafe there last time. The thought that they destroyed the little altar at the end of the pond inside a structure modeled after the one pillar pagoda in Hanoi was distraughtful to me. There is a night club in the space where a garden used to be. The place where I climbed all over the footbridge leading out to the pagoda. I remember climbing the ficus tree next to it to reach the star fruit tree behind the pagoda and picking its fruit. The fruit from that tree was never sweet but it never stopped me from picking and eating.
We walked around the outside and even went inside. I described to Ivy what each section of the house was. Who used which room to the detail. We started walking upstairs but stopped past the second floor landing. There was a sign there. The last time I visited there were some in-laws of an uncle living on the top floor, it had been turned into an apartment. I knew in my stomach that was no longer the case. The sign read "mean dog, ring doorbell first." I didn't feel the desire to find out if they were there really. I don't know why but it was okay in any case. We started back down.
As we were just about to leave the premises I decided to check out the nightclub. We walked inside. There were only the proprietors there as it was just after lunch. I said hello and asked if we could look around. I explained that I had grown up here when I was a kid. The man was very nice and spoke to us and told us feel free to look around. Out of the right corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something through a sliding glass door and a wave of relief washed over me. There was a small courtyard and in the far right corner from where I was standing I saw the sight of a red, relatived newly painted one pillar pagoda. With all the construction around it, they had saved the pagoda. There was a newer altar next to it for some deity of protection or luck. I went out there. There were still remnants of the stone footbridge left. The ficus tree was enormous and had hanging roots all around it. A little spot of something from another life was still left and those who have taken over that space have respected its sanctity. I didn't think about all this in that moment but now it is clear to me. A strange sense of gratitude became alive somewhere inside of my heart.
When we left the place, I was reminded that nothing lasts, all is impermanent. What we might have that would seem more permanent is not necessarily tangible. The fragile intangibles though are the things that can indeed be passed on and kept alive in out thoughts and in our memories.
The rest of the afternoon, I had very nice pleasant moments. One arising and then passing but the chaing of them are linked together. It was a rainy afternoon and I walked up and down old Catinat Street with Kevin in the rain but in my mind when we stopped to look out over the grimy Saigon river with its waters muddied up by precipitation I still remembered that this is the place where sunlight rests.
So today the gang went out to lunch in downtown Saigon at this cool place called Quan An Ngon (literally translates to: Place Eat Well, or A Place to Eat Well). The building was very cool and obviously was old enough to date back to the colonial era. It was a villa laid out in a rectangular manner with a perimeter and then a center building leaving an arcade surrounding the central structure. The street it was on was definitely the same street as the street the old house that I grew up in was on but something seemed unfamiliar. As it turns out after we got out of the restaurant I looked and there was an adjacent alley. I thought to myself that this might be the old place so I follow it. The alley is currently being used as a moped parking lot. As I walked down about 20 meters it turned right at a right angle. As I turned the corner, I realized this was the alley leading to my grandfather's house. It was at the end of the cul-de-sac and the gates and adjacent buildings were unmistakable to me once I saw it. What I didn't recognize was beyond the gate.
I had been here only five years ago and there was no building in what used to be the driveway, courtyard and garden. The fish pond had been filled years ago and there was a cafe there last time. The thought that they destroyed the little altar at the end of the pond inside a structure modeled after the one pillar pagoda in Hanoi was distraughtful to me. There is a night club in the space where a garden used to be. The place where I climbed all over the footbridge leading out to the pagoda. I remember climbing the ficus tree next to it to reach the star fruit tree behind the pagoda and picking its fruit. The fruit from that tree was never sweet but it never stopped me from picking and eating.
We walked around the outside and even went inside. I described to Ivy what each section of the house was. Who used which room to the detail. We started walking upstairs but stopped past the second floor landing. There was a sign there. The last time I visited there were some in-laws of an uncle living on the top floor, it had been turned into an apartment. I knew in my stomach that was no longer the case. The sign read "mean dog, ring doorbell first." I didn't feel the desire to find out if they were there really. I don't know why but it was okay in any case. We started back down.
As we were just about to leave the premises I decided to check out the nightclub. We walked inside. There were only the proprietors there as it was just after lunch. I said hello and asked if we could look around. I explained that I had grown up here when I was a kid. The man was very nice and spoke to us and told us feel free to look around. Out of the right corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something through a sliding glass door and a wave of relief washed over me. There was a small courtyard and in the far right corner from where I was standing I saw the sight of a red, relatived newly painted one pillar pagoda. With all the construction around it, they had saved the pagoda. There was a newer altar next to it for some deity of protection or luck. I went out there. There were still remnants of the stone footbridge left. The ficus tree was enormous and had hanging roots all around it. A little spot of something from another life was still left and those who have taken over that space have respected its sanctity. I didn't think about all this in that moment but now it is clear to me. A strange sense of gratitude became alive somewhere inside of my heart.
When we left the place, I was reminded that nothing lasts, all is impermanent. What we might have that would seem more permanent is not necessarily tangible. The fragile intangibles though are the things that can indeed be passed on and kept alive in out thoughts and in our memories.
The rest of the afternoon, I had very nice pleasant moments. One arising and then passing but the chaing of them are linked together. It was a rainy afternoon and I walked up and down old Catinat Street with Kevin in the rain but in my mind when we stopped to look out over the grimy Saigon river with its waters muddied up by precipitation I still remembered that this is the place where sunlight rests.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
kwanyin (boddhisattva of compassion) in neon
i had written this on the night of arriving at Kieu Dam temple. we were to stay another night but our plans had to be changed. i hope to return there and spend a couple of days with the children there as well as the wonderful people who run the temple before i leave the country during this trip.
20:53h 1 July, 2005. Chua Kieu Dam, Van Hanh Village. Vietnam
So I have wondering for a long time what it would be like to be at a monastery and here I am. Chua (temple) Kieu Dam is a temple/monastery about 70km to the east of Saigon on the way to Vung Tau. We arrived here about an hour ago. It is dark. The air is pungent and sweet in parts from the rain. The night is alive with life. Sounds of insects, birds and toads are a symphony beneath the unspoiled sky. The rain has lifted and there are bits of inky sky dotted with glittering stars upon the earth's ceiling. One of the benefits of being in a third world country, especially out of the city is the lack of light pollution.
Coming through the temple gates, the first thing I saw was a glimpse of the altar hall. It was lit inside and what I saw was very beautiful. The setting of the foliage grounds was a little like being on a forest path and serendipitously finding a thing of wonder behind a wall of trees. I have yet to go inside that building. That is to be saved for the early morning chant. I understand that begins at four AM. When I asked what time I ought to get up for that, I was told that I would hear the summoning bells and drums. Quyen tells me it is not something to be missed if you have never experienced it before. Surely I will not miss it.
The quarters I've been given are spartan and serene. It is a cottage about four meters wide and 10 meters long divided into two rooms. At the front room there is an altar for prayer and meditation, in the back room there is a sleeping platform (no mattress here, a wooden deck topped with a straw mat and a blanket) and cubicle where the toilet is and also a back door. There is no glazing here. In this humidity the doors are shuttered and the windows have scroll ironwork with outside storm shutters. The only thing between you and the mosquitoes is a gossamer veil dropped down and tucked under at the edges of the straw mat. The floor is tile and swept incredibly clean. This is one thing one notices in the details of daily life here. Even in the poorest of houses, the floors are always kept as clean as possible and shoes stay outside. If you don't walk barefoot inside then you have a strictly indoors pair of slippers. It is an important detail, especially on hot days there is nothing quite so pleasant as a cool tile floor to relax on - forget the chair or the couch.
I joked with Ivy and Quyen earlier that if you didn't know you were at a temple, the grounds, the buildings and layout of this place has the feel of a tropical resort. I will leave it to the pictures to tell that part of the story. It has settled down here and I think most are asleep. The only sounds outside are the crickets and the occasional toad. If I close my eyes, I could be in a tent in the middle of the tropical forest. 10.82 latitude north and 106.2 longitude. This is the place where sunlight rests.
20:53h 1 July, 2005. Chua Kieu Dam, Van Hanh Village. Vietnam
So I have wondering for a long time what it would be like to be at a monastery and here I am. Chua (temple) Kieu Dam is a temple/monastery about 70km to the east of Saigon on the way to Vung Tau. We arrived here about an hour ago. It is dark. The air is pungent and sweet in parts from the rain. The night is alive with life. Sounds of insects, birds and toads are a symphony beneath the unspoiled sky. The rain has lifted and there are bits of inky sky dotted with glittering stars upon the earth's ceiling. One of the benefits of being in a third world country, especially out of the city is the lack of light pollution.
Coming through the temple gates, the first thing I saw was a glimpse of the altar hall. It was lit inside and what I saw was very beautiful. The setting of the foliage grounds was a little like being on a forest path and serendipitously finding a thing of wonder behind a wall of trees. I have yet to go inside that building. That is to be saved for the early morning chant. I understand that begins at four AM. When I asked what time I ought to get up for that, I was told that I would hear the summoning bells and drums. Quyen tells me it is not something to be missed if you have never experienced it before. Surely I will not miss it.
The quarters I've been given are spartan and serene. It is a cottage about four meters wide and 10 meters long divided into two rooms. At the front room there is an altar for prayer and meditation, in the back room there is a sleeping platform (no mattress here, a wooden deck topped with a straw mat and a blanket) and cubicle where the toilet is and also a back door. There is no glazing here. In this humidity the doors are shuttered and the windows have scroll ironwork with outside storm shutters. The only thing between you and the mosquitoes is a gossamer veil dropped down and tucked under at the edges of the straw mat. The floor is tile and swept incredibly clean. This is one thing one notices in the details of daily life here. Even in the poorest of houses, the floors are always kept as clean as possible and shoes stay outside. If you don't walk barefoot inside then you have a strictly indoors pair of slippers. It is an important detail, especially on hot days there is nothing quite so pleasant as a cool tile floor to relax on - forget the chair or the couch.
I joked with Ivy and Quyen earlier that if you didn't know you were at a temple, the grounds, the buildings and layout of this place has the feel of a tropical resort. I will leave it to the pictures to tell that part of the story. It has settled down here and I think most are asleep. The only sounds outside are the crickets and the occasional toad. If I close my eyes, I could be in a tent in the middle of the tropical forest. 10.82 latitude north and 106.2 longitude. This is the place where sunlight rests.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
the place where sunlight rests
the place where sunlight rests
it is the place where dew rests
in the too warm morning.
ten degrees latitude north
but far enough south for
painted clouds to convene.
it is the place of legends where
the celestial and earthbound
congregate against counsel.
heaven hungers the sensual
flesh desires tranquility.
where sunlight rests
is the dusk and dawn
of human experience.
just short of paradise
distanced enough away
from sweat and toil,
the body's tears,
the heart's aches.
warm summer rain
this afternoon we were blessed with a brief set of showers, cooling off the city streets of saigon. with each day passed running around the city, parts of it start to become familiar. on some of the streets, there are still strong residual feels of the french colonial history. it is strange to realize that this city located in southeast asia shares the layout and city planning of a place like paris. there are some good remnants from those days like long tree lined boulevards and gigantic roundabouts.
i have to say that the experience of saigon traffic still mesmerizes me. i've decided the best description i can think of is brownian motion. yes, it may sound a little strange but it is pretty accurate.
today, i had an interesting encounter with a little boy named Lam while out at breakfast. he is just a little kid trying to help support his family. the thing is he is only eight years old. one can't help but be touched on different levels after sitting there talking to him. it makes you reconsider things. once you understand something, it is impossible to turn away.
For Alexander Calder
by Erin Lambert
We are more ourselves than earthbound, mobile birds, sculpted shadows.
I had an orange bike once I had a cold and then a life around my someday
circus, glass bells. With wire, I found means to quit electricity, speak softly
to a row of cucumbers, but my distaste for office light remains as a series
of unfortunate hands cramped over keys. For I used my own to rescue
buildings, to demonstrate in red with human touch how one's presence is
a series of connections all at once — gone, like a spark — drawn through air.
i have to say that the experience of saigon traffic still mesmerizes me. i've decided the best description i can think of is brownian motion. yes, it may sound a little strange but it is pretty accurate.
today, i had an interesting encounter with a little boy named Lam while out at breakfast. he is just a little kid trying to help support his family. the thing is he is only eight years old. one can't help but be touched on different levels after sitting there talking to him. it makes you reconsider things. once you understand something, it is impossible to turn away.
For Alexander Calder
by Erin Lambert
We are more ourselves than earthbound, mobile birds, sculpted shadows.
I had an orange bike once I had a cold and then a life around my someday
circus, glass bells. With wire, I found means to quit electricity, speak softly
to a row of cucumbers, but my distaste for office light remains as a series
of unfortunate hands cramped over keys. For I used my own to rescue
buildings, to demonstrate in red with human touch how one's presence is
a series of connections all at once — gone, like a spark — drawn through air.
bodhi leaves
Poem by Czeslaw Milosz
Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills -
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn`t matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn't always understand.
Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills -
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn`t matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn't always understand.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
life in motion II
life in motion
sitting in a car moving through traffic in vietnam, especially saigon can be a zen experience.
there are lanes yet no one pays attention. there are no manners of making turns from a particular side of the road to another.
crossing the street for a pedestrian from the viewpoint of an outsider seems as perilous as walking across a freeway in the states. however, there is an organized chaos to it all. if one watches the traffic from above, it will look like water flowing down a stream in particles made of people, mopeds, cars and the occasional bus. but unlike water it doesn't all flow in one direction. it flows closer to the way ants flow. they go in all directions and seem to bump into each other, sometimes catastrophically but rarely do.
as someone riding in a car, your first instinct is to cringe but after a couple of deep breaths you can relax and just watch the motion. strangely enough, it occurs to you that everyone on the road has the same expectation that everyone will figure out a path to get where they are going without careening into one another. at first it might seem like inattention then later you realize that it is some sort of faith, or something like that...in any case, there is a lesson there i think. it may not be obvious but there is definitely a lesson there.
sitting in a car moving through traffic in vietnam, especially saigon can be a zen experience.
there are lanes yet no one pays attention. there are no manners of making turns from a particular side of the road to another.
crossing the street for a pedestrian from the viewpoint of an outsider seems as perilous as walking across a freeway in the states. however, there is an organized chaos to it all. if one watches the traffic from above, it will look like water flowing down a stream in particles made of people, mopeds, cars and the occasional bus. but unlike water it doesn't all flow in one direction. it flows closer to the way ants flow. they go in all directions and seem to bump into each other, sometimes catastrophically but rarely do.
as someone riding in a car, your first instinct is to cringe but after a couple of deep breaths you can relax and just watch the motion. strangely enough, it occurs to you that everyone on the road has the same expectation that everyone will figure out a path to get where they are going without careening into one another. at first it might seem like inattention then later you realize that it is some sort of faith, or something like that...in any case, there is a lesson there i think. it may not be obvious but there is definitely a lesson there.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
view from hotel, hanoi
view from the hotel. from sixteen floors up, the moped traffic is akin to an ant farm with thousands of little creatures moving about like water flowing around stationary objects
Saturday, June 25, 2005
flags in temple altar room
at a temple in Hue. see more pictures from this set at http://flickr.com/photos/horselatitudes
Thursday, June 23, 2005
95 degrees
yesterday was the grand opening of Tue Tind Duong free clinic in Hue, Vietnam. we attended the ceremony and it was a success. the show of support was incredible. standing room only. standing on the balcony of the third floor looking at people arriving, one can't help but be moved by visions of old monks and nuns making their way to attend the opening in 95 degree heat and close to 100% humidity by foot, bicycle or moped. the staff who were helping out ranged from the young to old from various walks of life. in the back area being used as a kitchen, women stooped over huge baskets of vegetables, slicing and dicing away. at another corner, there were portable burners set up. all in all the logistics going on in the porch there would have rivaled a modern resto kitchen able to serve a hundred people at a time. in fact, there would be aboout 350 people eating this afternoon following the ceremony. it was amazing to walk through the building and photograph room by room. they were currently brand new, unused. i thought to myself that in months if i came back these rooms would be filled with patients and caretakers. there would be a different kind of bustle going on here. perhaps not quiteas festive as today but in the long run, much more important. for many people, this free clinic is their only option of getting medical care of any sort. in a country of 80 million people, there are only about 825 hospitals. i am reminded why this is good work.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
fulfilling wanderlust
first leg of trip over, taipei intl airport just after sunrise. i survived cramped conditions on an airplane full of kids but survived intact. even slept most of the way. i gave thanks for having a small frame and being able to stretch out even in economy class!
another leg and i shall be home...
almost home again
strange place but somehow familiar
it’s either the faces or something in my chest
a feeling like the swell of the ocean
in a space the size of one’s fist
there is no fear of the ocean’s depth
it’s a place something could drift forever
and never quite touch bottom
but when on land and oh so close
to the deep blue’s sanctuary
one never asks why but dwells on how
it’s a pull to origins
the mechanics of reason are left on the sand
another leg and i shall be home...
almost home again
strange place but somehow familiar
it’s either the faces or something in my chest
a feeling like the swell of the ocean
in a space the size of one’s fist
there is no fear of the ocean’s depth
it’s a place something could drift forever
and never quite touch bottom
but when on land and oh so close
to the deep blue’s sanctuary
one never asks why but dwells on how
it’s a pull to origins
the mechanics of reason are left on the sand
Sunday, June 19, 2005
rain drums
this season’s rain
comes to me like angels
striking bronze drums.
pre-iron age staccato
striking old rhythms
still looking for answers
from so long ago
eons pass but the struggle,
the same. purposely, i ask
questions without answers.
answers aren’t resolution,
only skeletons of desire.
metallic artifacts buried in silt.
comes to me like angels
striking bronze drums.
pre-iron age staccato
striking old rhythms
still looking for answers
from so long ago
eons pass but the struggle,
the same. purposely, i ask
questions without answers.
answers aren’t resolution,
only skeletons of desire.
metallic artifacts buried in silt.
making the world nicer
my horoscope for the day:
"Even in your grubby errand-running clothes, you're undeniably appealing. Yes, they're looking at you, so don't just stand there -- smile and say hi. Make the world a nicer place, one person at a time."
oh dear, here it goes again. that constant struggle between being intelligent and useful vs being an ass. heheheh
"Even in your grubby errand-running clothes, you're undeniably appealing. Yes, they're looking at you, so don't just stand there -- smile and say hi. Make the world a nicer place, one person at a time."
oh dear, here it goes again. that constant struggle between being intelligent and useful vs being an ass. heheheh
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
it is a mystery
life is full of mysteries and when i think i'm finished with being confused by one, it gives me another. firefly says i'm confused about being confused. how on the point is that?
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
spiky
so i'm walking around a street corner and see this beautiful old asian woman standing there. it is late afternoon and she has a straw hat on. i notice in her hands she is holding four maple seed pods with stems intact. my first thought is i've never seen anyone collect those before. they are sharp and mean looking and as a kid they are what you avoid cause stepping on them barefoot on a lawn is very painful.
i smile to her as i pass and she says something to me. i do a double take cause i didn't understand a thing. she tilts her head and says it again very gently but direct. ah, it's japanese. no wonder i don't understand. she points south across the street and asks something but my japanese is so long gone i can barely order sushi. all i can make out is "ikimasu" and then she pauses and looks at me and says, "anata wa wakarinaidesuka?" i don't know what happened but i understood her. something clicked. i nodded and motioned for her to come over to where i'm standing and show her the crosswalk light button and then point across the street at the light. i press the button and then stand next to her and wait. when the light turns, i point and say, "ikimasu yo..." she looks up at me and replies, "arigato, arigato!" i nod, smile and she crosses.
it's moments like these that can make your worst day turn...
i smile to her as i pass and she says something to me. i do a double take cause i didn't understand a thing. she tilts her head and says it again very gently but direct. ah, it's japanese. no wonder i don't understand. she points south across the street and asks something but my japanese is so long gone i can barely order sushi. all i can make out is "ikimasu" and then she pauses and looks at me and says, "anata wa wakarinaidesuka?" i don't know what happened but i understood her. something clicked. i nodded and motioned for her to come over to where i'm standing and show her the crosswalk light button and then point across the street at the light. i press the button and then stand next to her and wait. when the light turns, i point and say, "ikimasu yo..." she looks up at me and replies, "arigato, arigato!" i nod, smile and she crosses.
it's moments like these that can make your worst day turn...
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
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