January 2010 Email Update

Hey friends, I don't think I have sent out an email update since Africa 2009, so here are the highlights of the past few months.

Allen Boorstein. I received a voicemail at my desk one fall afternoon. An older gent Allen Boorstein called to ask for Charles Goldsmith* because Allen is writing a book. Turns out Allen was the president of Rob Roy, the first company to outsource manufacturing to Japan, Korea, and later China. He held the exclusive licensing rights to Snoopy, Roy Rogers, and Superman. He fought in WWII and graduated from Harvard Business School in 1950. He's insane and hilarious and eccentric. Yadda yadda yadda, he now pays me to help him write this book, which will most likely never come to fruition because he is easily distracted. It's cool. I read the paper with him and his wife on Saturdays in their apartment, which has a larger foyer than my entire three-person apartment, and file the emails he receives and prints out.

*If you know the whereabouts of Charles Goldsmith, let me know because we are still searching for him. He was a Deloitte partner in the 80's, and Allen and I cannot find him on friendster.

This Monday. I will be an extra in a Passion Pit music video. Why not?

Petra. In my quest to see the Seven Wonders of the World before I am thirty, my roommate and I have sought out Petra as our destination of choice in September 2010. This brings me to the whole point of sending out this email.

Sarah Lindenberg, purveyor of good times*, and I would like to visit Jordan and Israel and maybe some other sights in the area, perhaps Turkey, during the first half of September. We are looking for interested companions to join in our search for impromptu dance parties, strange encounters with families and small children, and increasing the love other countries already have for Americans.

Gordon Hua from India 2K7 may join along. Should be insane.

*"Purveyor of Good Times" is a phrase coined by Johnathan George in 2010, memo writer and break dancer extraordinare.

Pens. I have like a hundred ink pens that read "2009 I lost Michael Jackson but I got this pen from Tara Hagan." If you want one, send me a self addressed stamped envelope, and I will mail you one. I ran out of stamps and envelopes after the holiday card mailing. My address is 303 Broome Apt 6, New York, New York 10002.

Busy Season 2010. So it's that time of year again where I disappear into the mounds of data waiting for me to mine it, vlookup it, if(iserror(cell,true,false)) it, goal seek it, and basically just love on it. It's been a pleasure knowing you, but I probably won't see you for a couple months but will more than make it up to you afterwards. Love you.

Mass Emails Suck. Seriously, let me know if you want me to stop sending you generic mass emails. They are lame, but if you write me back, I will write you a personal email and/or stop emailing you if you would prefer that route.

Final India Update

We have returned to Mumbai to wrap up our last days in India.

Ferry Racing

Towards the end of our hour-long ferry ride from Elephanta Island to Mumbai, we notice the ferry suspiciously close to us is racing us. Their passengers all stand up and move to the front of the ferry and begin taking pictures of us, hoping to overtake our noble vessel. Gordon and I will have none of this.

Other nearby passengers also grow worried about losing this impromptu race. Gordon yells to the ship "We need to lose some weight. Women and children overboard!" He then begins a slow chant "Hut! Hut! Hut!" - Hindi for "Move! Move! Move!" It's one of two phrases he knows.

As our ship speeds up and wins the race, a definite cheer emerges from our deck. Drenched in the briny filth characteristic of the Arabian Sea, Gordon told everyone he's never been so proud to be Indian.

Fashion

Repulsed by the high cost of haircuts in New York, I decide to find a hair salon in Mumbai. Ah yes, Touch of Joy. It was recommended by the man on the street.

Waiting in the chair, I begin leafing through the fashion magazines to find the haircut I would like. Unfortunately, they only offered obscure Indian glamour publications featuring Bollywood stars. I realize I do not have long enough hair for a Bollywood bob and begin searching through my personal stash of reading materials. Unfortunately, all I brought was the July 7th issue of the Economist. Being it was the poverty issue, it wasn't too heavy on the hotties. I finally had to settle for page 84 - an ad for the Advanced Management Program at Wharton. It features a seasoned, business-savvy, Hillary Clinton look-alike. I hope it starts a trend.

India Update 4

2 the number of t-shirts Gordon packed for two weeks in India

10 the number of t-shirts Gordon has bought in India (6 of the Taj Mahal, 2 of Hatis (elephants), 1 from Hard Rock, and 1 that proclaims "Proud to be Indian"). This seals Gordon's "hopelessly a tourist" look.

Cruising
Like Pushkar, Jaipur bans meat, alcohol, parties, and dancing. Our driver Lucky knew we were down about the lacking night life of Jaipur, so he drove around town blaring Hindi pop music with the windows down. Gordon and I actually knew all the words to the songs as it has been the only tape Lucky has played during our past six days together. So we spent our last night in Jaipur driving around town while other citizens stared at us singing along to the musical stylings of Aap Aar Suroor. It was like being in high school again and driving around Lake Eufaula in the summer.

India Update 2

A lot has definitely happened since the last email.

1. We took an overnight train to Delhi. That's code for we endured 20 hours of people staring at us.
2. We hired a travel company to plan a week for us and give us a driver.
3. Gordon has been seen about town sporting his "Proud to Be Indian" t-shirt.
4. To follow-up on the last email, Gordon went back to the scene of the crime and bought the Google book for a good chunk of change and gave the kid a little extra. The kid then began carressing Gordon and telling him he's "very handsome."

Lucky

Our new driver and best friend is Lucky. Lucky informs us he has over 100 MySpace friends, which is a lot we think. Mr. Popular knows everybody everywhere. His catchphrase is "Everything is possible in India." Case in point, "Lucky, was that car going the wrong way on the highway?" Response "Everything is possible in India."

Drugs

Last night we went to a Bollywood movie. During intermission, some kids our age walk by and start saying stuff to Gordon. Gordon yells out "Konichiwa" and people around us laugh. Lucky then informs us the kids are drug dealers and are inviting Gordon to join them outside. Lucky instructs us to ignore them when they come back because he doesn't want to have to defend us should a fight break. Gordon replies with "That's why you should have let me buy that dagger earlier today."

On our drive from Agra to see the Taj Mahal to Jaipur, we pull over to some sketchy hut. Lucky has run into a friend, who is driving a couple of kids from Holland about our age in his car. We talk to the Hollanders for quite a while. At one point, they tell us of a drink called a bhaang lassi -- a legal yogurt and marajuana drink. We get back in the car and ask Lucky "Is it true? Is there a drink called a bhaang lassi? Is it true that if you drink it, you'll pass out and find all your possessions stolen when you wake up?" He replied with "Yes, I promise to get you one in Pushkar." We ask "Is it legal?" Lucky responds, "Everything is possible in India."

India Update 1

After a seventeen hour flight was extended by 3 hours, Gordon and I arrived in Mumbai at 4 in the morning. Lindyn was going to meet us at the airport but had taken ill. So we decided to stay at a convent with this man we'd met back at London Heathrow.

Today on our cab ride into town, a kid was selling books on the street. While we're waiting in traffic he comes to the passenger window. Gordon inquires about a book in this hands -- Google something or other. The kid really wants to make a sale and tells Gordon it's in English. Gordon doubts the kid and says it's not in English and forces the child to open the plastic wrapper. His hands are too full to open the wrapper, so he hits it on his head to loosen the plastic. It is in English. Gordon pages through the book and decides he wants it. The kid says 450 rupees (about $11). At this point, the light has changed and the cars start moving. The cab drives away with Gordon holding the child's book. Gordon screams out "I'm never going to see you again." The driver grabs the book out of Gordon's hands and tosses it out the window, across the highway. Not only did Gordon doubt the kid and force him to open the book, but reneged on a sale and left the book across a highway. Great.