Greek Feather lands in Dutch Airspace

May 17, 2010

Being a feather in the wind is more difficult than it sounds in a self-help primer. Simply (hah!) detach yourself from concentrating on everything. Free in the wind means that you go where you are intended to go, not to the place that you’ve rationalized is the ‘correct’ place to go. This strategy is true of career, family and friends. I’m certain that history’s great men followed the signs that direct them to their futures. We are largely foolish if we ignore the energy of the world entirely and discount the world’s road signs as coincidence.

While I don’t believe in fate in its purest sense (that our life is a series of predetermined actions), I do believe that certain things happen for a reason beyond our immediate understanding. Giving power to that belief, I’ve chosen to follow my mind rather than my thoughts in many instances on this trip, often pleasantly surprised and mystified by the results.

At one point yesterday, I found myself seemingly lost in a maze of small streets. I had been roaming the city for hours, letting my mind wander as I passed the red light booths, trading glances with the flirtatious girls...I bobbed in and out of interesting stores that boasted everything from high fashion to the unmentionables that would make my parents blush. Each time I left a shop, I didn’t worry about where I was going or if I went back the same way I came. I made a decision early in the morning that getting lost was ok, even a healthy way to enjoy this city (and maybe life?).

The interesting facet of this story is that just as my feet started to get tired and I felt like a nap was in order, I began to feel concerned, maybe even a bit worried that I was a long way from the hotel and I would be completely worn and sore by the time I reached the hotel. Without thought, I proceeded in the direction I was headed, and in one block I was at the hotel. My mind was secretly looking out for me.

I think that our minds tend to look out for us often, but our thinking process tries to second guess instinct, which is where most of our own individual conflict arrises. Trust yourself doesn’t mean trust your thinking, it means trust yourself to make an action without over thinking and analyzing a situation. I’m quite captivated with the concept.

Our minds are our most powerful allies. This is true as long as we can keep our own thoughts from interfering with our true instincts. For those of us lucky enough to have our minds in proper working order, it’s important to recognize that the greatest triumph we can aspire to is in owning our own self and controlling none other.

All this is to say that my trip has happened largely on it’s own, in fact, planning for every stage in advance would likely have left me in dire straits, either stuck in a dangerous situation or accruing costly travel change fees as I adjusted and listened to my environment. I have moved from city to city with no plans or onward flights. This is fortunate, because I have been dodging rather significant world tragedies, starting with the violent red shirt protests in Bangkok. Just hours after I decided to abandon plans to visit that city, the first round of Thai violence erupted. In India, I flew through Bangalore, missing a failed bomb attack in the city center by a day. In Greece, I left Athens 2 days before rioting resulted in the death of 3 Greek men, and this was just 1/2 mile from my room in that city.

I cannot attribute the change in mentality to Yoga alone, but I did experience an inordinate number of good moments during my week in Crete. After 5 days of yoga, I woke up without pain in my back for the first time in 6 months. I performed an ambitious back bend that surprised most of the class along with a proper head stand. I juggled for the first time ever, despite years of trying. Midweek I took a ride to Spili, a small town 30 minutes from Triopetra...after 5 days of a macrobiotic diet, I was hungry for a small Greek lamb...heheh, that sounded funny, I have never been as happy eating lamb chops as I was that afternoon in Spili in front of about 14 jealous holiday vegetarians. I spent a confusing evening trying to find my chakras in order to both tune and align them, though I gave up after humming in concert for about an hour.

The retreat ended with a farewell meal at an incredible seaside restaurant that grew all of its own produce and ingredients for their meals. The next morning I woke up early to leave before most folks woke up. Fittingly, leaving my new friends to drive to the nearest town (Amounia), I picked up an old man, about 70, hitchhiking on the side of the very desolate road (I’d be surprised if 20 cars passed on this road in a day). He spoke no English, but despite that fact, he kept me from worrying about getting lost in an area that has absolutely no street signs. The major highway in Crete is simply called the ‘new road’, which should give some indication of the rural nature of the island. The old man invited me to join he and his friends for a cafe leche at the local coffee shop he asked for me to leave him at. I politely declined and continued on my way, just happy.

I drove into the town of Heraklion for a night to get a taste of a bigger Cretan city before my flight the following day. I found a hotel in the city center through a travel agent and then went out to see a movie - I saw Clash of the Titans (in 3D) in Crete...being at the heart of Greek civilization and watching Roman G-ds battle mythological monsters in 3D was perfectly timed. For local color, I’ll add that there was an intermission in the middle of the movie.

The next morning I headed to the airport for an early morning flight. I decided to make a trip to visit Sandra and John, the Dutch couple I had met in Goa a month earlier. They had offered a sincere invitation for me to come and visit if I could make it to Holland before returning to the states. I was thrilled that they were excited to have me as a guest as well.

On landing in a characteristically overcast Amsterdam, the pilot calmly offered, “Amsterdam is a wonderful city, but it should have a roof.” No doubt. The city was cold and dank, and I soon learned I was a few months shy of the summer weather I’d just left. First purchase, a trenchcoat and scarf to keep me warm over my summer travel gear, with socks and shirts layered in multiples. The streets of Amsterdam are the perfect setting to walk alone and enjoy the time with yourself thinking about nothing, just experiencing a quiet street.

Amsterdam also has the most incredible cigar store in the world, literally. The century+ year old Hajenius cigar store has everything that I could ever need to enjoy a good scotch and an expertly rolled cigar, even thin flecks of cedar to enhance the flavor while lighting the cigar. The 2,500 sqft. well-preserved relic evidences a much more beautiful and ornate time. The hardwood paneling covers most walls of the glassed-in smoking library, a sitting room, study area, a bar serving coffee & tea and most importantly, scotch. The display of pipe tobacco and mearsham pipes was presented like a first-rate museum. I would recommend this shop to anyone who appreciates these things.

John Franck picked me up in Amsterdam. We drove out to Nordweig, his residence and his birthplace. We took a tour through the coastal town, and he pulled me by Mr. Heineken’s home, where his surviving daughter now lives. Freddy Heineken used to walk around the town regularly when John was a boy until his kidnapping in the 1980’s. The kidnappers were paid the equivalent of about 20 million dollars. Since then, the Heineken family has maintained a lower-profile, primarily living inside the walls of their gated property.

My hosts were incredible, and I was extremely lucky to have them as my Holland guides. Within minutes of arriving at their home, tucked onto a classic Holland waterway, I was greeted by John and Sandra with fresh tomatoes, wine, beer, pate and crackers. They invited John’s brother, their neighbors and their buddy Matai to join us on the porch for appetizers and cocktails.

Matai was hilarious, the Dutch version of my buddy Rick, possibly the best friend any bachelor party could ever have. Matai is the type who could have written an even better and more raucous script for Animal House. This hulking Dutchman sleeps about 4 hours a night, drives motorcycles and deals in bottled water for a living. Despite the expectation that his sense of culture would extend as far as the keg, he proved to be more worldly than I could have imagined with fact from the streets of Amsterdam to the ashrams of Asia. The most interesting man?, certainly a close second.

The first morning, after a prepared breakfast, John showed me more of the city including the amazing gravestone for his father Cor Fraank that John had designed and commissioned a few months ago. John’s Dad had worked for Heineken for 40 years, and even today a production line at the Heineken plant is named for him.

Afterwards, I joined John on his day-trip to Utrect, a beautiful European city with tiny canals and small walking streets. I ambled through the small quiet city for an hour while he met with a client of his Healthcare business, and then we reconnected and headed to Leiden for a lunch of chicken gyros and fries hidden by glorious mayonnaise.

Knowing of my interest and career in Fine Art and Antiquities, John made appointments for me to visit with his friend Sebastian, a well-researched collector of Greek & Roman antiquities. He scheduled an evening meeting with another friend Aad, a collector/dealer in Dutch paintings. Both visits were interesting vignettes of unusually eclectic and unusual personalities.

Throughout my time with John I saw many similarities in our lives, our attention to family and friends, career ambition, and a healthy recognition of ourselves for both the good and bad. His friendship was a nice affirmation of my life progress.

Sandra was an attentive host, a prim and proper lady with the ability to stomach John and Matai’s Dutch humor. A good sport and kind woman in every way. She translated difficult words for John and I, and she made the perfect companion for our outings.

John and Sandra drove 30 miles to Amsterdam to see me off at a going away dinner at Nam Kee chinese restaurant. We had dinner and drinks and then said our goodbyes. I headed back to the Victoria Hotel to pack my bags before shipping off the next morning for a 22 hour journey to DC through London and JFK.

The challenge of being back in the US is in maintaining the outlook that I have worked so hard to incorporate during my travels. Focus on the now, allow myself to follow signs, and breathe deeply. These mantras seem much easier alone, under the instruction of a Yogi, or surrounded by 15,000 devout Hindu’s, but how will I react in comfortable situations where the status quo is long established?

My first leg of my US travels is in DC, visiting my cousin Geoffrey and Uncle Glenn, and my friend Sharon. Without strain or pressure, this new mindset seems to be working much better already. Blocking out concern with the future, or thoughts of the past, I find it so much easier to cultivate stronger relationships focusing on the moment and the conversations in front of me. There’s still room for my independence, though I’m still learning how this all plays out. My trip is not over, and I have a feeling my learning has only just begun.

Love from your ever-present friend,
Jared

Carefully Aligning Chakras in Crete

Monday May 3, 2010

In India I had asked around to see if anyone had a connection with any producers or celebrities in Ballywood (Bombay) so that I could be cast in an Indian film as the tall puffy headed white guy. No luck in India, but without prompting, my new friend Kostas volunteered the news that his friend was filming a movie in Athens in just 2 days time. He was scouting for extras and said that I was welcome to show up on the set early Wednesday morning.

I arrived Wednesday morning to a well-appointed set in an old theater building. The upstairs was stocked with coffee, tea, and sandwiches that the producer’s mum had made (with the corners cut off - it’s a little excessive, but I enjoy it no less). I was quickly outfitted with a green sleeveless shirt and told to wait upstairs in the dark smoke-filled room and sip tea until they were ready for us.

I made friends with some of the extras and we discussed the political situation of Greece...Nikos (a tall stocky fellow with tall hair and solid english) told me about his career in Journalism, which was recently cut short by the closing of two of Greece’s leading newspapers. Many of the young people in Athens are out of work, and the newly graduating undergraduate classes are coming into the workforce with joblessness at an all-time high and no viable opportunities to use their degrees.

Despite lovely weather in the 70’s, Athenians are garbed in long pants and jackets during the day. I’ve caught several groups stop to look at me awkwardly because I’m the only one in sight wearing shorts. Athenians are highly individual people, sporting unique styles, political opinions and tastes. They embrace their friends and kiss on both cheeks, they don’t seem to have much conflict in bars, and they respect their seniors tremendously. Out of the corners of my eyes I catch young people helping older people with little tasks like hailing a cab or pushing their grocery cart over a particularly difficult crease in the street. It’s refreshing to see young people extend patience and kindness for what will ultimately be the older versions of myself. Maybe I’ll come back here to get old.

Athenians also smoke like chimneys. One fellow, both a mountain biker and erotic photographer, said that he believed the Athenian diet and his extensive daily biking routine would keep him from contracting cancer. I assured him that he was wrong, but did suggest that the erotic photography might give him a few extra years.

I digress, back to my film debut, after 2 hours we were ushered downstairs to the set (a bar scene meant to be in Barcelona). I was in the background as the main players acted around myself and 30 other extras. We danced and mimed conversations with each other, mugging for a hopeful cameo in the film. When the main characters kiss, we freeze (like someone’s been shot) and look at them, post-kiss we run out in a frenzy. The indy movie is called ‘Dos’, like the operating system, and should be out in about 6 months. With any luck, it will make it to the Angelika back in the US and I’ll have a chance to share my memory with my friends. Sometimes these things just happen on their own...call it omens, fate, good luck or even the influence of G-d.

Wednesday afternoon I headed to an art supply store 3 blocks off the Omonia Square subway stop. I went in to buy some paints and paper, but somehow managed to find myself in a conversation with Costas Niarchos, a 60+ year-old drawing instructor at the art school next door. I invited myself to his class which was beginning in just 15 minutes. He obliged me and took me into the art studio. We had 10 minutes before class started, which was enough time for him to impart some world knowledge. He said “Life is not about Happiness, but instead about happy moments”. He credited me with sharing a happy moment with him. I agreed, it’s good to be welcomed as a friend in a foreign country, and it’s so much more meaningful than it would be in a familiar setting.

About 5 people showed for the class, and while I didn’t learn any new skills, it was good to be ‘arting’ in commune with other people again. I found it surprising that this classroom was the one place in Greece where there was no cigarette smoking, though there was a smoke break halfway through the class, and the entire room emptied out. By that time, the principal of the school had gotten wind of the English-speaking stranger in the school and encouraged the teacher to boot me, lest the school be inspected for illegal students or some such BS. I said my farewells and left happy to have gone to school and been kicked out in the same day.

I went to a theater performance in Plakka in Athens one evening. The production looked interesting albeit a bit dark from the pictures outside the box office. It was in Greek, but the attendant suggested that I would still enjoy it. A very impatient Jared sat through a very conceptual and confusing production, fighting a filling bladder and choking back yawns for 2 hours as the only exit was over the stage.

To deal with my impatient tendencies, I purchased a Kompoloi, a strand of worry-beads that Greek men play with incessantly while going about their normal routine. The term is made up of Kompos (knot) and logos (words), and the ideas is that playing with the beads can help work out kinks in conversation. So far, it’s just like a yo-yo for me, but I can see where it would be a helpful distraction.

Found my way to the Acropolis eventually (I’m not generally one for historical places - I’m generally more interested in pursuing my own adventures), but it had closed just moments earlier so I headed to the newly-constructed Acropolis museum just at the base. A decent museum, but the food was both delicious and inexpensive. I had a flan-like dessert and a pastry filled with gruyere cheese, walnuts and something else that made it taste wonderful. I will reiterate that I could easily eat my way through Greece. I have not eaten anything remotely resembling mediocre since I arrived in Athens. These people invented food, I’m sure of it.

I popped into a Yoga class in Athens (Nysy Athens) and worked on my moola banda - by the way, I thought this area was just below my naval, but was surprised to learn that it’s actually the perenium (yes, google that...for the curious). Which leads me to my present locale.

2 days ago, after an extensive Google search, I called YogaRocks in Crete to book a 1-week retreat to practice Ashtanga yoga in the Southern region called Triopetra. On Saturday morning I hopped a short flight with Aegean Air to Crete, rented a car and headed immediately to the Aquarium (one of my favorite sights in any city). I had a zen experience eye-balling an octopus (he started charging the glass at me) and then a large reef shark headed directly at my face. I must be giving off some cosmic magnetism.

The ride, which was supposed to have been 1 1/2 hours, stretched anxiously into a 4 hour saga as I missed the given route forcing me to rely on the back-dated navigation system that excluded any roads built in Crete in the last 15 years. The roads were as crooked and windy as the most insane roller-coaster ever conceived. I snaked through an inordinate number of small mountain towns situated precariously on the tops of cliffs and edged along 1-lane roads with on-coming traffic testing me every mile or so. I hate mountain driving and avoid looking over the edge, but it was near impossible to overlook the amazing views of the mountains and lush overgrowth and eventually, the bluest seas I have ever seen.

About 3 hours in I decided to stop for a Coke and a smile. I was a bit nauseas, hot and hungry. It was May 1st, a national work holiday and a Saturday, so finding an open store wasn’t so easy. When I found a spot, it was in a quaint town at a local gas station, I found snacks and soda in ample supply. When I got out of the car I noticed what sounded like live Greek music just a bit down the hill. After leaving the gas station, I decided to be adventurous and seek the source. I walked about 50 yards to the small bar finding that the live music was actually from the open car door nearby. About 7 men were playing cards and drinking inside the bar/living room. I went inside and asked for a Coke. All eyes were on me, I sensed that this town doesn’t get too many visitors now that a larger highway allows most people to avoid this twisted route.

The biggest guy in the bar, Mikos, told the waitress in Greek that my drink was on his tab. I resisted but he insisted, which led to a full conversation in absolutely no common language. He did understand that I lived in Dallas, to which he held up his hand, indicating a gun. I nodded, acknowledging that us Texans do have guns. Immediately he ushered me outside and went to the black BMW playing the Helenic classics and lifted the floor mat to reveal a 9mm pistol.

Mikos grabbed the gun and emptied 6 rounds straight into the air. The hot shell casings bounced off my head onto the ground. I started laughing, I suspected the worst was over so what harm was there in cracking up. We walked back in, and a call came in on the bar-owner’s phone - a neighbor wondering if everything was ok at the bar. I finished my Coke and left to my car after about 5 minutes. When I got there, I thought I needed to give this man something in exchange for his hospitality, which is exactly what it was, I have no doubt that he was showing off and not trying to intimidate me. I picked out the Duke hat that I purchased in honor of their recent National Championship win and brought it down to Mikos. I put it on his head...all of the folks in the bar cheered and laughed to see their friend with a baseball cap on his head. A bit more rattled than when I arrived, I hopped in the car and headed on my way, back on the crooked road to Triopetra.

Arriving was wonderful...the seaside building is not surrounded by anything except for mountains and a few distant houses.

I’ve been practicing yoga with 15 foreign women for the past 2 days. 6 Swedes, 6 Danes, 3 Brits and me, the US yoga novice. I’m not as bad as I supposed I would be, I can actually do the first grouping of poses without much prompting now. I am quite sore and everything cracks and creaks, but I’m told that will pass. Our meals are all macro-vegan concoctions, which I’ve read encourages concentration essential for meditation and yoga focus. Still, I’m hungry for another amazing Gyro like I had when I first arrived on Crete (Kreti).

Breakfast is at 7, meditation at 8am, then yoga for 2-3 hours immediately following. In the evenings is either a second yoga session or a meditation session (tonight is the first evening meditation).

I sweat like a pig-in-heat, which my classmates effortlessly glide between poses. I think I have glandular problem. I’m fairly certain that I’m detoxifying my body, as my sweat has ceased smelling like Indian entrees. There’s no alcohol or other mind-altering substances to impede or confuse our paths to enlightenment. The nearest town is about 40 minutes away, cutting distractions to a minimum. Everyone is very positive and encouraging. It’s a wonderful learning environment and I’m very happy to be here.

My new friend Binda is a strong Danish woman who was recently divorced from her husband of 40 years. She realized she had completely ignored herself in raising her children and caring for her husband. At 58-years old, her new life consists of scuba, golf and yoga. For some this is about fitness, some it’s about calm, and for a few of us, it’s about getting a bit more enlightened and improving our lifestyles.

In between classes I’m reading books on exploring the mind, hanging in one of the many hammocks around the building, or on the beach (the water is still frigid, so we only jump in and then immediately pop out of the surf).

Tonight I had an incredible meditation session. New breathing exercises brought me to some wonderful visualizations and I had an enormous grin on my face from an intense feeling of joy. It was almost as if I was attacked by a sea of tickle-monsters who could instantly make me happy by jumping on me. Mental images may not translate well to blogs, but let me just say that it was a moving and exhilarating experience. It’s 9:30pm and everyone has gone to sleep. I think I’m the first one to break and use a computer. Oh well, we’ll all have nirvana, I might just be the last one there:)