This from a New York Time's Op-Ed piece:
But the best answer to the terrorists is to dream bigger, make even more money, and visit Mumbai more than ever. Dream of making a good home for all Mumbaikars, not just the denizens of $500-a-night hotel rooms. Dream not just of Bollywood stars like Aishwarya Rai or Shah Rukh Khan, but of clean running water, humane mass transit, better toilets, a responsive government. Make a killing not in God’s name but in the stock market, and then turn up the forbidden music and dance; work hard and party harder.
If the rest of the world wants to help, it should run toward the explosion. It should fly to Mumbai, and spend money. Where else are you going to be safe? New York? London? Madrid?
So I’m booking flights to Mumbai. I’m going to go get a beer at the Leopold, stroll over to the Taj for samosas at the Sea Lounge, and watch a Bollywood movie at the Metro. Stimulus doesn’t have to be just economic.
Suketu Mehta
I've always wanted to go to India, and if I had the money, I would go now. Travelling teaches you the paradoxical lesson that nowhere is safe but everywhere is a lot safer than you imagined. Staying at backpackers' hostels you certainly get a biased opinion -- these are people that live, in many cases, just to travel to see the world and get to know its people. And the more obscure or villified the country, the more travellers you meet deny the reports. Venezuela? Be careful, but it's worth the trip. Columbia? Best country to travel in South America. Iran? The nicest and most welcoming people in the world. I'm more cautious than to run toward the explosion, but once the smoke has cleared, and in the wake of cowardly attacks like this, it's our duty to make sure we see the world and understand as much of it as we possibly can.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Davis Cup and Mar del Plata
As the depression settles in and Argentineans question whether dulce de leche really tastes that good (no, that will never happen) no doubt they will find solace in futbol (soccer) and try to pretend tennis doesn't exist anymore. I also find that denial is an effective way of solving problems.
I helped tennis.com with their coverage, which was good fun but being in the press certainly didn't insulate me from the widespread malaise that settled in after DC. Im sure you were all on tennis.com, as you should be, but in case not...
Furthermore, Mar del Plata is a great city with a great beach and casino, good food and plenty of sun. I only dropped 100 pesos to a swindling black jack dealer, which, luckily, is not the same as 100 dollars.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Expecting the Unexpected
Travel isn't all glamour and high living, great food and warm beds. I currently have bug bites all over my body from a bad bed. My camera was recently taken and so my picture taking days are over, though obviously I'll find some way to take pictures. I won't dwell on this point because it is deeply upsetting. I was luckily able to upload at least most of my pictures to my computer and online.
And while I currently find myself in Mendoza, AR, in the western part of the country, I'm headed back to Buenos Aires and then to Mar del Plata for the Davis Cup final to help out with Tennis.com's Davis Cup coverage, unless something goes wrong between now and then. While my circuitous route around the country is insane and illogical -- I was just in the south, then I took a flight to Salta, in the north and now am headed back cross-country -- it's obviously an opportunity that makes it all worth it.
I've been in Mendoza the last couple days mostly "working" -- helping out with a small travel mag called Get South and it's been nice to just relax and handle some easy writing and editing assignments.
More on the Davis Cup later. Sorry I likely wont be able to post pics...
And while I currently find myself in Mendoza, AR, in the western part of the country, I'm headed back to Buenos Aires and then to Mar del Plata for the Davis Cup final to help out with Tennis.com's Davis Cup coverage, unless something goes wrong between now and then. While my circuitous route around the country is insane and illogical -- I was just in the south, then I took a flight to Salta, in the north and now am headed back cross-country -- it's obviously an opportunity that makes it all worth it.
I've been in Mendoza the last couple days mostly "working" -- helping out with a small travel mag called Get South and it's been nice to just relax and handle some easy writing and editing assignments.
More on the Davis Cup later. Sorry I likely wont be able to post pics...
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Chiloe, Chile.
Chiloe is a small island in southern patagonia, considered the beginning of the end of the world, a rugged island filled with a hard and certain people who have lived there lives surrounded by seafood and its trade.
I´m flying blind -- without a guidebook, which other experienced travellers find absolutely insane -- because I came here after seeing one sentence on a map. So the power of words have coerced me here, and I´m glad they did.
Chiloe and Chile have a certain ruggedness, a coldness and beauty that is both enigmatic and wonderfully omnipresent. It´s a place where no one extends a hand unasked or even says hello, but if you ask for a good supermarket to buy wine, you´ll prompt an intense back and forth on the merits of the town´s two respective supermarkets.
At the same time, there is warmth in unexpected places. The waitress called me and a fellow traveler "sons" after a short meal of huge lump king crab and scallops.
"I don´t have children," she says, smilingly broadly as she clears plates. She invited us to take a picture with her tomorrow, where she says she´ll put us next to the other Americans -- her other children.
The king crab and scallops, covered with parmesan cheese and butter sauce, were unbelievably fresh and huge servings greeted us for the equivalent of about 15 dollars each. I digress to food because fish and food are the lifeblood of these small towns I´m travelling, and the day centers around fish. The fish trade also reflects the general feeling from the people -- tough and efficient, unflailingly competent but content with hard work and the results they bear.
I´m flying blind -- without a guidebook, which other experienced travellers find absolutely insane -- because I came here after seeing one sentence on a map. So the power of words have coerced me here, and I´m glad they did.
Chiloe and Chile have a certain ruggedness, a coldness and beauty that is both enigmatic and wonderfully omnipresent. It´s a place where no one extends a hand unasked or even says hello, but if you ask for a good supermarket to buy wine, you´ll prompt an intense back and forth on the merits of the town´s two respective supermarkets.
At the same time, there is warmth in unexpected places. The waitress called me and a fellow traveler "sons" after a short meal of huge lump king crab and scallops.
"I don´t have children," she says, smilingly broadly as she clears plates. She invited us to take a picture with her tomorrow, where she says she´ll put us next to the other Americans -- her other children.
The king crab and scallops, covered with parmesan cheese and butter sauce, were unbelievably fresh and huge servings greeted us for the equivalent of about 15 dollars each. I digress to food because fish and food are the lifeblood of these small towns I´m travelling, and the day centers around fish. The fish trade also reflects the general feeling from the people -- tough and efficient, unflailingly competent but content with hard work and the results they bear.
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