Yangon, Burma, August 13th --It happened during the Cultural Revolution, too, right before Mao died.
China's Tangshan earthquake of 1976 measured 7.8 on the Richter scale and some estimate killed over 700,000 people, making it the most deadly earthquake of modern times. One month later, Chairman Mao Zedong was dead. The ever-so-ominous earthquake weather sign.
Early Tuesday morning, August 11th, an earthquake of 7.6 in magnitude hit of the coast of the Andaman Islands. Shocks were felt as far as 1500 miles away in New Delhi. The shocks felt in Yangon, however, related more to the closing of the Suu Kyi trial, whose verdict was handed down the same day as recently imprisoned American John Yettaw's. The Mormon Vietnam veteran used flippers he constructed out of sandals and Tupperware flotation devices to swim across Inya Lake to warn Burma's beloved dissident of his premonition military intelligence planned to have her assassinated. Described as a "nutty fellow" by Suu Kyi's house staff, the man was writing a book on heroism, and had entered the country from Thailand May 2nd on a tourist visa. After suffering seizures last week, he was placed under medical surveillance in aptly named Insein Prison's health facility.
He was sentenced to six years of hard labor.
The Lady got off the hook with just 18 months of house arrest, a soft sentence considering she could have been facing another five years in Insein. The mild sentence, however, is just inconvenient enough to keep her out of next year's upcoming elections.
The verdict was supposedly signed by Than Shwe, leader of the ruling military junta, before the court had even had an opportunity to hand down a decision.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Guruji Dies at Age 94
Mysore, May 18th—Last night, the body of Pattabhi Jois, feet tucked up into lotus position and hands crossed over his chest and covered with a white sheet, lay in the shala in Gokulam where he, his grandson Sharath and daughter Saraswati had been teaching thousands of yoga students from around the world for the past twelve years since his wife died. He was piled high with offerings of jasmine blossom wreaths, surrounded by family, friends, former students, and admirers coming to pay their respects. The entire family, including his older brother, son Manju Jois, and his granddaughter were there to observe the funeral rites--Sharath interrupted his world tour, returning early from abroad in order to be close by should something happen to his grandfather. Many long time students had also heard the news their beloved Guruji was in the hospital, and traveled to Mysore just in case. He had been sick for months already, and it is said he had been neither sleeping nor eating for the last few days. The body was removed from the shala around 8PM, and brought to garage below, where it was doused in water, and a priest, Manju, and Sharath observed the funeral rituals. Jois touched the lives of tens of thousands of people, and was one of the most revered, and one of the final living students of Krishnamacharya. The shala will be open for those paying final respects from 11 to 12 PM today.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
No Box to Tick on the Ballot
April 21, Bangalore, India-- It's an election week in India, each state will elect its own official and delegate, but as usual many voices will go unheard. What they refer to as "ladyboys" in Thailand, and "trannies" in the US, culturally conservative India calls eunuchs, one of the many minority groups comprising India's diverse population. They're not the traditional eunuch, castrated and living a life in service to the emperor in the Forbidden City, for example, but modern day transsexuals who define their gender as neither entirely male or entirely female.
Eunuch numbers are estimated to be at around one million, and given India's population and its extraordinary number of marginalized minority groups, it's simply not high enough to catch the fancy of any candidate jostling for a minority vote--and so the likelihood that the demand for a third box on the ballot will not be fulfilled. In the meantime, another election will go by, one million voices will go unheard, simlpy because there's no line for them to stand in at the polls, and no appropriate gender box for them to tick on the ballot.
Especially in a state like Karnataka, which has become increasingly conservative in the past few years, with modern cities like Bangalore changing its curfew and liquor laws, the fear is that people like the eunuchs, who must resort to begging at intersections or jobs in the sex industry, are facing an uphill battle.
Eunuch numbers are estimated to be at around one million, and given India's population and its extraordinary number of marginalized minority groups, it's simply not high enough to catch the fancy of any candidate jostling for a minority vote--and so the likelihood that the demand for a third box on the ballot will not be fulfilled. In the meantime, another election will go by, one million voices will go unheard, simlpy because there's no line for them to stand in at the polls, and no appropriate gender box for them to tick on the ballot.
Especially in a state like Karnataka, which has become increasingly conservative in the past few years, with modern cities like Bangalore changing its curfew and liquor laws, the fear is that people like the eunuchs, who must resort to begging at intersections or jobs in the sex industry, are facing an uphill battle.
On the other hand, some voters reported that they were bribed with upwards of 10 kg of rice in exchange for a look at their voter registration cards. Muslims, and people in slums around Bangalore were targeted, primarily families with many children.
(Note: The day after elections, upwards of 40,000 voters in one slum district in Bangalore alone reported their names went missing from the voter lists, even if they had valid registration cards. Primarily women and Muslims seemed to have arrived at the polls, only to find their names had gone missing and they could not vote.)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Good Thing You Didn't Park Your Bus in Bangkok
April 13th, Bangkok-- The first official day of Songkhran, violence erupted at the Thaksin support rallies in the Din Daeng district of Bangkok (I happened to be staying at a guest house in the Thewet district, sandwiched in between the police blockades and the khlong).
What just two days ago seemed like an emotional yet peaceful crowd of red shirts today ignited buses (supposedly retired public bus lines) and tires in order to interrupt traffic. One bus sat flaming in front of the UN, not far from Khao San Road, where tourists and residents alike were playfully splashing each other with water and fragrant powders and clay.
Whether you’re getting nailed by super soakers at the Songkhran festivities or trying to avoid burning buses, the streets in Bangkok are a little treacherous today.
Last night protesters ignored a curfew that was issued by the police earlier that day in response to the violence that erupted at the ASEAN summit in Pattaya. One red shirt snacking on fried noodles on Sri Ayutaya Road, in the main area of the protest said, “I will stay here tonight, there’s a curfew but I will stay. We will all stay—there are forty thousand of us! If we stay until tomorrow morning then we’ve won. We want Thaksin to come back. Maybe he can’t be prime minister again immediately, there won’t be a military rule like last September, but we want him to come back.”
Although police came to meet and suppress destructive and violent protestors earlier in the morning, bus burning continued until the evening. Thaksin supporters dismantled buses to prepare them for burning along Phetburi Road, and a crowd of locals crowded around burning tires that had been set on the train tracks, just a block away from the UN where clouds of black smoke were rising. Police and military marched in at around 6PM, when red shirts who had occupied a highway ramp turned violent. Protestors threw things (presumably rocks or bits of rubble from the previous evening’s protests) and gunshots were fired.
Military standing on the edges of the danger zone, many with roses adorning the barrels of their guns, cheerfully directed clay-spattered tuk-tuks loaded with Songkhran partiers unaware of the violence away from the protests.
Happy lunar new year, everybody!
What just two days ago seemed like an emotional yet peaceful crowd of red shirts today ignited buses (supposedly retired public bus lines) and tires in order to interrupt traffic. One bus sat flaming in front of the UN, not far from Khao San Road, where tourists and residents alike were playfully splashing each other with water and fragrant powders and clay.
Whether you’re getting nailed by super soakers at the Songkhran festivities or trying to avoid burning buses, the streets in Bangkok are a little treacherous today.
Last night protesters ignored a curfew that was issued by the police earlier that day in response to the violence that erupted at the ASEAN summit in Pattaya. One red shirt snacking on fried noodles on Sri Ayutaya Road, in the main area of the protest said, “I will stay here tonight, there’s a curfew but I will stay. We will all stay—there are forty thousand of us! If we stay until tomorrow morning then we’ve won. We want Thaksin to come back. Maybe he can’t be prime minister again immediately, there won’t be a military rule like last September, but we want him to come back.”
Although police came to meet and suppress destructive and violent protestors earlier in the morning, bus burning continued until the evening. Thaksin supporters dismantled buses to prepare them for burning along Phetburi Road, and a crowd of locals crowded around burning tires that had been set on the train tracks, just a block away from the UN where clouds of black smoke were rising. Police and military marched in at around 6PM, when red shirts who had occupied a highway ramp turned violent. Protestors threw things (presumably rocks or bits of rubble from the previous evening’s protests) and gunshots were fired.
Military standing on the edges of the danger zone, many with roses adorning the barrels of their guns, cheerfully directed clay-spattered tuk-tuks loaded with Songkhran partiers unaware of the violence away from the protests.
Happy lunar new year, everybody!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Get Some Red Shirt
April 12, Bangkok--The Thai government has declared a curfew of 10 PM for the entire neighborhood surrounding the Thaksin rallies in the Tewet district of Bangkok--and despite this many participants have chosen to remain in the area, just across the fences from the soldiers who have assembled there, ready to pounce should the violence in Pattaya spread. Also--there is absolutely no sticky rice to be found at those rallies past 10 PM, so don't bother looking.
Last night, April 11th, two days before the beginning of Songkhran, the Thai lunar new year festival, there were violent protests in Pattaya at the ASEAN summit meetint. Leaders were evacuated from the building as protesters crashed through glass doors, many were injured. The meetings were postponed.
After yesterday's violence, tanks have rolled in to Sri Ayutaya Rd. at the Bangkok protests, reminding many of the time after last September's peaceful coup when Thaksin was originally removed from office, during which the military junta ruled Thailand before Abhisit came into office. At the Bangkok Thaksin rallies an emotional crowd seemed much more peaceful. Protesters spoke of democracy, demanded the end of a dictatorship, freedom and truth--essentially the abdication of current PM Abhisit. Even those who were not staunch supporters of Thaksin himself seemed to be able to find a worthy cause to join. People from all walks of life, from monks to bankers are gathering together to express their distaste for the current regime. The rallies are rumored to have been financed by Thaksin himself, who is said to be in Dubai where an extradition order has been issued for his release back to Thailand so he can serve an impending prison sentence. The protests have a distinct Thai character--many have taken the opportunity to set up food stalls at the rallies, protesters are provided with food and water. Portable toilet buses, tents, even stands with people selling red clothing, flags, noisemakers--it's difficult at times to distinguish the atmosphere from a nightmarket. Sources claim many taxi drivers are paid to attend the protests, while others claim charities provide the free services that make it possible for participants to spend their time protesting.
In Bangkok today, Songkran has already begun. Tourists and Thai partiers have gathered just blocks away from the red shirts at Khao San road to celebrate the Thai lunar new year, and seem oblivious to the turmoil just next door. Walking around armed with super soakers and fragrant powders, it's hard to imagine the magnitude of the political rumblings. But again, how Thai to maintain a good amount of sanuk (fun) at a confusing time.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Laughing? NOT Funny.
Once I was in this writing workshop, and the professor was being really weird and not making any sense, and then while a student was trying to explain his work, the guy fell asleep. The professor fell asleep in an eight person workshop, where we were all sitting around a table, and nobody else noticed until I nudged my friend Kate. And then she busted out laughing, which made me laugh really hard, and we were whizgigging for about five to eight seconds, when the professor woke up, and then asked whether or not he'd missed anything. Which just made me laugh harder. So then I tried really hard not to laugh, and I explained, I said, "No, you didn't miss anything. It's been a long day, I don't know why I'm laughing, I have absolutely NO reason to be laughing. I'm sorry." And I just kept on laughing and could not stop. The harder I tried not to laugh, I'd just look at Kate, and we'd bust each other up and laugh at each other trying not to laugh, and this went on for about fifteen minutes, when finally it just got really annoying and I started to get mad at myself for laughing, but I couldn't help it. At the end of class the professor asked me if I could keep it together, and I promised him it wouldn't happen again. I felt really bad for disrupting the class, but I hadn't laughed that hard in so long... or maybe ever at all, and I felt really good for a couple days.
Then two weeks later the professor died of congestive heart failure and liver disease, and the last class he ever taught was the class where he fell asleep and Kate and I couldn't stop laughing.
So, you see, sometimes laughing is not funny at all. But it still feels good.
Last night I went to this laughter yoga workshop with the inventor of laughter yoga--Dr. Madan Kataria. He is the Merry Medicine Man. In 1995, he was writing an article for a medical journal about the medical benefits of laughter for, like, cancer patients or something. And he was finding out that laughter was just so beneficial, that he decided to start a laughter club in Bombay, and everybody thought he was bananas. So he had a couple friends who were willing to join him, and they started out by telling jokes, but they quickly ran out of jokes, and as Dr. Kataria the Guru of Giggling will tell you, he has a very bad sense of humor. And it's true, he's not kidding. I asked him to tell me a joke, and it wasn't that funny. It was sorta funny, I guess, about how you never stop paying for marriage. But that's kind of tragic. Which is I think why Dr. Kataria is really on to something here with the whole fake laughter. So they started just laughing for no reason at the laughter club, and soon started inventing different exercises to get people to laugh, added in some meditation and breathing, and on the fifth day there was laughter yoga, and Dr. Kataria saw it, and it was good.
You've got to be a little bit of a whackjob to think of the idea of getting a bunch of people together to laugh for no reason. But I'm not so sure that Doc really cares too much about the ironies, and layers of humor contained within the idea itself. Each session starts off with everybody in attendance saying their name, laughing, saying where they're from, laughing, and saying what they do, and then laughing. An example is, "Hi, I'm Gabby...tee hee heee heee heee I'm from California and Germany... ehhehhh heheheh and I'm UNEMPLOYED BAHBAHBahahahahahahh!" You laugh at who you are, where you're from and what you do--so right off the bat you admit to the absurdity of all the labels you use to identify yourself, and can let go of what you think of as your position in the world and your expectations for yourself. Now in my case, there's a slight element of tragedy in that, because I think it's kind of sad that I'm unemployed, so that's why I laughed so hard at that part. My name is funny and where I'm from is funny, too I guess, but in a different way. That stuff is funny in the way that Dr. Kataria thinks things are funny--the unemployed part is funny because everybody else there was an accountant, and I felt a little silly so I diffuse the situation by laughing at it. There was that German hip hop group that sang about how comedy is reflected tragedy.
So what Dr. Kataria is hitting on here, I think, with his fake laughter thing is that humor and laughter are two different things, and are not married in any way. Sure, they're related, they're not mutually exclusive, but they are not codependent. We were sitting around fake laughing, and the doctor's fake laugh is really super super good and gentle, and I realized that my laugh is really vocalized, and sounds a lot like my cry. Dr. Kataria thinks this is ok, and he says often people cry and laugh at the same time at laughter clubs, and this is healthy.
After we introduced ourselves and sat in a circle laughing for no reason for exactly one minute, Dr. Kataria showed us a bunch of slides on a power point presentation he had, with all these tables and graphs charting endorphins and cortisol. Really dry stuff. And I realized: this guy is really serious about laughter. It's not funny for him at all. It's something you do for your health, like drink green tea, or take vitamins.
When you're laughing at one of these sessions, it's hard to tell what's real and what's fake, and who's laughing at whom or at what. We did this one exercise where you go up to someone in the group, and then stick out your tongue and lion-laugh at them. I really liked that one. Also, we were on the floor holding our knees in to our chests laughing, and when you laugh like that your laugh sounds really funny and makes you laugh extra hard. Which feels extra good. That's the thing, is that the more you fake it, the better it feels. Supposedly the body can't tell the difference between fake and spontaneous laughter, and it's in fact been demonstrated that fake laughter has more health benefits because it is often sustained for longer periods of time. Just giggling a little here or there throughout your day isn't as good as doing it with a group of people for ten minutes straight.
I supposed spontaneous laughter is often associated with humor, and that's why we think it's more authentic. But so often comedy is so closely connected with tragedy, or something incredibly humorous incites not laughter, but a smile accompanied by a thought "oooh, that was so smart and funny." Dr. Kataria wants us to be laughing in the driest sense--for absolutely no reason at all.
Now, I skipped open-mic night at Takeout Comedy Club to go to the laughter yoga workshop. I'm gonna have to say that I'm really confident that I made the right choice. Even though I think the best gift in the world is telling somebody a funny story, and one would think going to a show where a bunch of people stand up on stage trying to make you laugh would be better than fake laughing with a bunch of accountants, I laughed WAY more in that yoga studio than I ever have at open-mic night, and felt way better at the end. Even though I was menstruating.
I just saw three construction workers walk by carrying coconuts with straws sticking out of them and unwrapping cigars. All three of them the same--coconut and cigar.
Then two weeks later the professor died of congestive heart failure and liver disease, and the last class he ever taught was the class where he fell asleep and Kate and I couldn't stop laughing.
So, you see, sometimes laughing is not funny at all. But it still feels good.
Last night I went to this laughter yoga workshop with the inventor of laughter yoga--Dr. Madan Kataria. He is the Merry Medicine Man. In 1995, he was writing an article for a medical journal about the medical benefits of laughter for, like, cancer patients or something. And he was finding out that laughter was just so beneficial, that he decided to start a laughter club in Bombay, and everybody thought he was bananas. So he had a couple friends who were willing to join him, and they started out by telling jokes, but they quickly ran out of jokes, and as Dr. Kataria the Guru of Giggling will tell you, he has a very bad sense of humor. And it's true, he's not kidding. I asked him to tell me a joke, and it wasn't that funny. It was sorta funny, I guess, about how you never stop paying for marriage. But that's kind of tragic. Which is I think why Dr. Kataria is really on to something here with the whole fake laughter. So they started just laughing for no reason at the laughter club, and soon started inventing different exercises to get people to laugh, added in some meditation and breathing, and on the fifth day there was laughter yoga, and Dr. Kataria saw it, and it was good.
You've got to be a little bit of a whackjob to think of the idea of getting a bunch of people together to laugh for no reason. But I'm not so sure that Doc really cares too much about the ironies, and layers of humor contained within the idea itself. Each session starts off with everybody in attendance saying their name, laughing, saying where they're from, laughing, and saying what they do, and then laughing. An example is, "Hi, I'm Gabby...tee hee heee heee heee I'm from California and Germany... ehhehhh heheheh and I'm UNEMPLOYED BAHBAHBahahahahahahh!" You laugh at who you are, where you're from and what you do--so right off the bat you admit to the absurdity of all the labels you use to identify yourself, and can let go of what you think of as your position in the world and your expectations for yourself. Now in my case, there's a slight element of tragedy in that, because I think it's kind of sad that I'm unemployed, so that's why I laughed so hard at that part. My name is funny and where I'm from is funny, too I guess, but in a different way. That stuff is funny in the way that Dr. Kataria thinks things are funny--the unemployed part is funny because everybody else there was an accountant, and I felt a little silly so I diffuse the situation by laughing at it. There was that German hip hop group that sang about how comedy is reflected tragedy.
So what Dr. Kataria is hitting on here, I think, with his fake laughter thing is that humor and laughter are two different things, and are not married in any way. Sure, they're related, they're not mutually exclusive, but they are not codependent. We were sitting around fake laughing, and the doctor's fake laugh is really super super good and gentle, and I realized that my laugh is really vocalized, and sounds a lot like my cry. Dr. Kataria thinks this is ok, and he says often people cry and laugh at the same time at laughter clubs, and this is healthy.
After we introduced ourselves and sat in a circle laughing for no reason for exactly one minute, Dr. Kataria showed us a bunch of slides on a power point presentation he had, with all these tables and graphs charting endorphins and cortisol. Really dry stuff. And I realized: this guy is really serious about laughter. It's not funny for him at all. It's something you do for your health, like drink green tea, or take vitamins.
When you're laughing at one of these sessions, it's hard to tell what's real and what's fake, and who's laughing at whom or at what. We did this one exercise where you go up to someone in the group, and then stick out your tongue and lion-laugh at them. I really liked that one. Also, we were on the floor holding our knees in to our chests laughing, and when you laugh like that your laugh sounds really funny and makes you laugh extra hard. Which feels extra good. That's the thing, is that the more you fake it, the better it feels. Supposedly the body can't tell the difference between fake and spontaneous laughter, and it's in fact been demonstrated that fake laughter has more health benefits because it is often sustained for longer periods of time. Just giggling a little here or there throughout your day isn't as good as doing it with a group of people for ten minutes straight.
I supposed spontaneous laughter is often associated with humor, and that's why we think it's more authentic. But so often comedy is so closely connected with tragedy, or something incredibly humorous incites not laughter, but a smile accompanied by a thought "oooh, that was so smart and funny." Dr. Kataria wants us to be laughing in the driest sense--for absolutely no reason at all.
Now, I skipped open-mic night at Takeout Comedy Club to go to the laughter yoga workshop. I'm gonna have to say that I'm really confident that I made the right choice. Even though I think the best gift in the world is telling somebody a funny story, and one would think going to a show where a bunch of people stand up on stage trying to make you laugh would be better than fake laughing with a bunch of accountants, I laughed WAY more in that yoga studio than I ever have at open-mic night, and felt way better at the end. Even though I was menstruating.
I just saw three construction workers walk by carrying coconuts with straws sticking out of them and unwrapping cigars. All three of them the same--coconut and cigar.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Escaped The Chamber
You know you're in Hong Kong when you get to work in the morning to find your boss fiddling with a silver can asking, "WHO has been using my OXYGEN? It's empty now." There was a small deadline crisis. Johannes, the editor of Taxi magazine, whispered to me, indignant, "I think it was Tom." Tom is our editor at AsiaCity Publishing. People in Hong Kong like to keep oxygen around--but it's especially wise for people who have as many daily deadlines as Johannes.
Sometimes at HK I do strange work, like the day I had to collect responses from people on the street about what they do when they can't sleep at night, and then take their pictures. He wanted about ten to twelve responses, mixed demographic, preferably funny. I met a Dutch couple who both had blue eyes, and matching blue shirts that were the same blue as their eyes. They wouldn't let me take their picture. A lot of people seem to think masturbating is a good way to pass the time when you can't fall asleep. Except for the Dutch couple, but if they didn't have each other, that's what they'd be doing.
Also, sometimes I have to find people I don't know very much about, and ask them strange questions about their habits. For example, I'll go into my boss' office, and he'll ask me, "How would YOU like to go to a super exclusive, all expenses paid, extra fancy party at the Hong Kong Cricket Club?" and I nod. Yes, yes I would. This is always how assignments get posed "There's one catch. You have to find Shane Warne, then use all your womanly charms to get him to answer a couple questions about business travel. Tonight at 8."
"Who's Shane Warne?" Eeeeeeeerrrr! Wrong answer. He's the most famous cricketer alive. Perhaps ever in the history of the game. We worked out details, and I wikipedia-ed him so that I wouldn't say anything off-color. Turns out, he's got a lot of scandal attached to his name. There's PLENTY off-color things to say.
On Friday, a photographer from the magazine and I went out to busk with my guzheng. I didn't really want to put out a hat for money, so I just took my guzheng and my music, and she took her camera, and we went to a park. It was a lovely morning, and there was an old lady who sat down next to me played human-music-stand and sang along. She knew all the songs in my book, because she had been in a performance troupe when she lived in the mainland.
We tried out a couple more spots--Pedder Street, a very busy pedestrian area near a very busy intersection, a bus stop, another sitting-out area. Then, I got the idea to go to the walkway between the Lippo Centre and the Bank of America Tower, where there's a man who actually busks every day around lunch time with his erhu and his harmonica.
I sat down with him, and we jammed out together a little. He seemed happy to have company, although our instruments weren't entirely working out well together. Mostly, we were being ignored, and in the fifteen minutes I was there we made two Honkies, which is about 25 Cents.
At some point, a man with a megaphone started saying something I couldn't understand in Cantonese, and a team of photographers showed up. The erhu player began to pack up. I continued playing, but only because I didn't know any better.
Our photographer, Debbie, rushed over to me, "That's Anson Chan! We've been trying to get an interview with her for ages, but she's too big. She's too busy." Anson Chan is a pretty well-loved politician in Hong Kong, and she seemed to be campaigning on the Bank of America walkway. She's the one people call 'The Conscience of Hong Kong.'
She ignored me at first. I was playing my heart out, and the erhu player watched on in horror. Debbie was sitting next to me, giggling. I started to serenade Anson.
"Aaaaaansooon Chan! Pay aaaatttention to mmmmmeeeeeee...." ding ding bong bang deeetle deeetle.
I waved, caught her attention, and she cocked her head and walked over to me.
"How long have you been playing?" She asked.
"Five weeks."
"Are you a legal resident?"
"Uh-huh." I'm pretty sure my visa is valid.
"Well then would you please cast a vote in my favor?" She handed me a flyer. Flashes went off. The entire photographer team crowded around the four of us, Debbie, Anson, the erhu player and I.
"Oh, I can't vote here. But I am legal." I was very nervous.
"Well, in that case, have a very nice day. Thank you." And that was it. Anson Chan continued to walk down the Bank of America walkway, handing out flyers.
Debbie started to pack up her camera, "I think we can go home now."
"Yea... I'd better get back to the office and wikipedia this lady."
In the evening, I went to the cricket club, only to find a heap of food, plenty of friendly Australians, and unfortunately no Shane Warne. Poor guy was at a funeral. However, I did meet the chairman of the cricket club and his lovely wife who is an incredibly friendly lady working as a judge, and now I have tickets to see the game today, Saturday. So, I'd better get going so that I can interview Shane. I have some riveting questions I need to ask him about what he likes to do when he gets off the plane.
(just to explain the photo I uploaded there ...three hours and a few bus rides later, I did get to meet Shane Warne, but he wasn't allowed to answer any of my questions. He was incredibly gracious about letting me take a picture with him. I just went to buy water at Chungking Mansions on my way back, and all the guys at the store were crowded around the television, watching the game I had just left, cheering wildly. That was a pretty strange feeling.)
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