Open invitation

I’ve been reading this book about body language called, surprisingly enough, ‘Body Language’ by Allan and Barbara Pease. I’ve read it once before, but decided to read it again as I didn’t get as much out of it as I could have got the first time. Now I found this one trick in the book that I decided to try out the other night and the response was amazing.

But before I tell you about the trick, some background information about my self. I’m not sure why but apparently I’m a very unapproachable person. People I don’t know almost never just walk up to me to start a conversation (neither guys nor girls). I’ve never been able to figure out why. I’ve tried opening up my body language, smiling and a whole host of other things, but it never generated any approaches (though it did cause quite a few people to look over in interest).

It can’t be because I’m ‘too good looking’ or anything like that, because I have this mate here in Bangalore who also models is at least as good looking as my self and constantly gets approached by both women and men (including me on the very first day I came out here).

I had accepted that there was something about me that just didn’t make me seem approachable. That is, until last night. Last night I tried something (only once, admittedly) and the response was tremendous. The girl I did it to (I’m generally far more interested in attracting women to come talk to me than men. I realise that is sexist, but then anybody that prefers one sex over the other can be labelled as sexist, in that case!) smiled immensely broadly and actually waved. She even almost walked over, but then checked herself as she became uncertain (I could see the uncertainty suddenly cloud her face) and she walked by. I could have stopped her right there and then, if I’d wanted to, but I was still too amazed by the reaction that a simple gesture had provoked.

I can hear you thinking, even now, ‘okay, you jerk, great story, but what was the gesture?’ Ah hah! I’m not going to tell you. No wait, yes I am. The gesture was what is called an ‘eyebrow flash’. That does not mean you burn off your eyebrows, put lights in them or anything like that (though I’m sure people would talk to you if you put lights in your eyebrows). It just means that you quickly raise and lower your eyebrows.

The reason this is effective is that this is something that we do to people we know and want to talk to. It’s a subconscious signal that tells the other person we recognise them and are willing to talk. Doing it consciously towards a person is basically inviting them in for a conversation. They can approach without fear of rejection.

‘Yeah right’ many of you now think, ‘so how come I never noticed it?’ That’s because it is subconscious, just like a ton of others signals. But I have a much better idea than trying to convince you. I’m going to tell you to try it. If it doesn’t work, well then you’ve really not made a fool of yourself (unless, of course, you think raising and lowering your eyebrows makes you look foolish) and if it does work, well imagine the possibilities!

And it works. That’s the great thing. You might not get everybody to approach, but you’ll certainly get a lot of smiles and positive reactions. In fact, I’m not sure why I’m sitting here typing this. I’m going to go out on the street and try it. And yes, I will also ‘eyebrow flash’ a few men as well, for equality’s sake.

Apartment

I now have an apartment in Bangalore. Well, almost. I’ll have it tomorrow, which is a bit tight because I’m being forced out of my hotel tomorrow morning (and they still have to paint the apartment tomorrow as well, bugger). Still, everything is working out well and it looks like I’ll be here for a while longer.

So all of yous can come and visit! I’m not sure we’ll be able to fit all of you in my one room apartment, but half the fun of India is trying new things, right?

The room has no furniture, only one window and an Indian toilet. Washing will have to be done by bucket (you take water from the bucket, dump it over your head and then repeat) what’s more there is a construction site on one side and a graveyard on the other. It is also on the third floor and has no elevator. That’s all not much of a problem though, because it’s really central (10 minutes walk from my gym) and it has a really nice roof terrace, which I imagine I’ll be sitting on a lot.

It also only costs me about 160 Singapore Dollars a month. That’s a pretty sweet deal, right?

My muscles are finally starting to get used to taking a beating every day and slowly I’m starting to notice the effect. If things go well I’ll actually have a six pack by the sixth. That’s important, because I’m travelling half way across the country for a show then and need to be in good shape. It will also be the first time in my life that I’ll have a full on six pack. It’s about bloody time.

I hope all of you are good and really appreciate the comment that you’ve sent my way. I know I’m not very responsive but I promise I read and think about each of them. Be good, wherever you are.

Alpha

I never used to be the alpha, but of late I am. I notice it in the way that people interact with me, behave towards me and want to be around me. After many months of study, practice and experimentation I am now frequently the leader of the groups I am in. People expect me to make the decision, look to me for acceptance and want me to set the mood.

Some people are naturally alpha. I am not. Everything I am today has been learned from literature, observation and my own thought process. When I was younger I was a social outcast. I had very few friends, was considered weird by most people and generally didn’t have much of a social life. I was introverted, felt uncomfortable talking and was generally shunned by people that cared about their social image.

Here I’d like to talk about what I did to change from somebody at the bottom of the pack to somebody at the top. Most of this stuff has already been mentioned in numerous books, essays and forums. I realise that quite a lot of this will sound repetitive. Still, I include it here because I want to include the whole package, not just those bits that are new (if there are any).

First I’d like to start by talking about the inner alpha, as I think that it is better to start fixing your inner game, before you start fixing your outer game. For one thing, when you’ve got the right frame the rest will all happen quite naturally. Though there might still be quirks that need to be ironed out, it will all flow much more naturally if you’ve go the right mindset. There is a lot of stuff to being an alpha, so I’ll only include some of it in this post. So here are the first four, in no particular order (they’ve been written as they came to my mind):

Alphas expect to be obeyed.

Alphas do not use words like ‘could’ ‘would’ or ‘might’, they tell other people what they want them to do, because they expect other people to do them. So you don’t say ‘could you pass me the butter’ but you say ‘pass me the butter’. You can include please, if you like. Being alpha does not mean being nasty and impolite.

Alphas also make decision for the group and expect others to follow their decisions. This does not mean they walk all over other people’s opinions. Quite to the contrary, they might well wait with making their decision until they’ve heard what everybody else suggests and then go with the suggestion that they think will be best. If, however, nobody knows what to do then the alpha will decide a course of action.

This might sound rude to you, but that’s because society’s ideals are not actually in line with our natural state of mind. We are led to believe in democracy, freedom and free will, but in small group dynamics people give up some of their freedoms in order for group cohesion and enjoyment. People don’t mind if others make the decisions, as long as those decisions bring them something. One thing a leader’s decision brings the rest of the group is a more dynamic time (as they don’t end up arguing endlessly about what’s going to happen next) as well as freedom from responsibility. They don’t have to stick their necks out, as the alpha is doing that for them.

Alphas do not mind if others take the spot light.

Sometimes people want to be alphas and they constantly hog all the attention and the spot light. This is because they are insecure in their alpha status. They are not true alphas, as a true alpha doesn’t mind somebody else taking over for a while, as they still know that they are the leaders. In fact, the alpha of the group need not necessarily be the most talkative person in the group. Some alphas are very quiet, but they dominate by force of will and personality.

An alpha that is insecure in his alpha status will soon be out alphad and might not even be aware of it. What is more, they will quickly get annoying to the other people in the group. A lot of people like to talk and if they don’t get the chance, they will resent the person who is hogging too much of the attention. A true alpha is like a chairman, deciding who should speak by focusing their attention on them (at which point others will follow their lead).

Alphas do not try to be alphas.

An alpha is an alpha. They do not have to try to be an alpha. Anybody that tries to be an alpha is, by definition, not the alpha. In fact, people that try very hard are often resigned to the bottom of the pack. Alphas do not try, they are.

So what does that mean? It means that you tell stories, do tricks and generally behave the way you do because that’s what you enjoy and because you do it well, other people enjoy it too. You talk about things that interest you or talk about things that interest other people because you’re interested in them. You don’t do it because the person will like you more if you do that. You don’t need to be liked, you already are.

If you do things for your own enjoyment people will catch your mood and believe you to be more genuine (which is true). They will enjoy being around you because you give them energy by being full of energy.

Alphas do not seek approval, they give approval.

Alphas rarely ask such questions as ‘Do you like it if I do [blah]’ or ‘do you mind if I do [blah]’. This is because that is a form of approval seeking. The alpha knows not only that he is already approved, but that he must be the one to approve of others. Other people will frequently ask them for their advice and ask them about what they should, or shouldn’t do.

This does not mean the alpha doesn’t care about what other people think. Of course they do, because otherwise they would soon lose their alpha status. They just watch for how others approve through more subtle cues. They read body language and listen to what others say without the alpha prodding. What somebody says in approval about you without you asking is far more valuable than when you try to force them to give you complements. The first types of complements are much more likely to be genuine than the second.

Alphas also give approval to others and, because they are leaders of the group, this approval is very much appreciated. When the alpha of the group gives a complement, this can make another person’s day. Note, however, that this power is lost if you give too many complements. Complements should be used sparingly and truly meant when they are given. That way they hold more value for everybody involved.

More is to follow, please give comments on what I’ve written so far. These are my observations, so they might not all be correct so I expect you to criticise, correct and counter. To be continued…

This too shall pass

I haven’t read a great deal of Buddhist philosophy, but I did read one book of stories at one point. I can’t remember the name, nor the author. In fact I can only remember very little, but the thing I do remember will stay with me for a very long time. At one point the author explains that something we should absolutely take to heart is the sentence ‘this too shall pass’.

As long as we never forget that our low moments will be less low and our high moments higher. After all, depression becomes a great deal easier to deal with if you realise that it will end. What’s more, understanding that the high moments in your life will also pass will make you appreciate them more. You will be less likely to become complacent and more appreciative of the good times you already have.

‘But wait,’ some of you might say, ‘how can you truly enjoy something if you can’t forget that it will end?’

The thing is, I don’t think we ever really do forget that the moment will end. True happiness (or ecstatic happiness) is at best momentary. For a moment you can suspend reality and live in the moment, but within minutes – if not seconds – the moment will pass and though we’ll still be happy, the worries in our mind will come slipping back in.

The realisation that this too shall pass means that those moments of ecstatic happiness will mean more to us and, what is more, those people, things or ideas that bring them will be appreciated more.

Is that pessimistic? I think realistic is more like it, though of course one person’s realism is another’s pessimism. Still, I don’t think it’s pessimistic, as I see myself as an optimistic person.

The first of many

Yesterday I did my first fashion show in India and I have to say it is quite unlike anything I’ve experienced before in the fashion industry. Back in Singers, when I modelled there seemed to be an unwritten rule that models should not have any fun. Not so here in Bangalore. Before and after the show the models were allowed to mingle and behave like the guests. So that included bites, booze and bickering.

The show was, in true Indian style, a bit of organised chaos. The run was practiced once (as opposed to the two hours back in Singers) and then when the show happened the event manager decided to improvise on the mike, ordering the models to do things that they were not in any way expecting to do. They had to answer questions, remove garments and smell each other, while all the time not trying to embarrass themselves in front of hundreds of people.

It went surprisingly well. Nobody made an ass out of themselves, nobody tripped and nobody said anything overly stupid. Well, except for me when they shoved a camera in my face for some local news channel and asked me about the products (which I had not even heard about until yesterday). ‘The products? Oh yeah, they’re really great. What products do they have? Well, uhm, skincare and uhm, hey look over there! That man is using a moisturizer on an uncleansed face!’

No, I didn’t say that. Instead I rattled. I always rattle when people shove a camera in my face. If I’d slow down then I’d sound much more in control and I’d have much more time to think about what I’m going to say next. Slowing down would be the logical thing to do. At that moment logic is not foremost in my mind, though, and I end up speeding up. I guess I can hope I talked so fast that they couldn’t understand me so they’re not going to use any of my footage, or maybe they’ll just slow down the track.

It was quite funny seeing the reaction of the lady interviewing me, when I asked her name (this was before the cameras were rolling) she actually looked shocked. As if I should already have known who she was. She did mention her name, but then I promptly forgot it, as the heavy camera light momentarily blinded me and she started in on her questions. Now that I think about it, maybe she asked me those questions I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know who she was. Would TV personalities be that petty?

Talking about TV personalities, I met another woman last night and she’s the anchor for a new TV show. We chatted about what doing TV was like and only about 15 minutes in did I realise I didn’t know what kind of TV show it was. I hadn’t asked and she hadn’t volunteered the information. It became clear why when I asked her. Her show was the overly exciting and highly entertaining ‘Realty Check’ a program dedicated to bringing the newest news and the hottest tips in the real estate industry.

Wow, that must make for stimulating viewing. I can just imagine getting some mates together, cracking open a beer and sitting in for a long evening of real estate news. One group could cheer for the improving economy and the other group could cheer for dropping house prices. We could invent our own chants and occasionally tussle in a friendly, non-lethal kind of way.

Anyways, the evening was fun. Not profitable in the least (it paid a measly $50 US) but at least it kept me from spending money elsewhere and allowed me to meet some new people. As if I haven’t met enough of those over the last few weeks.

No pain, no gain

I’m in a great deal of pain. Thursday and Friday (as in yesterday and the day before) I went to the gym for a total of three and a half hours. A trainer has been arranged for me and this guy’s a bit of a masochist. He gets you to push yourself to your limits and then asks you to push yourself a little more.

The place I was in was air conditioned and everybody there seemed to be doing alright with the temperature. Everybody, that is, except for me. Both days I was absolutely drenched with sweat; so drenched that I needed to hang out my shirt to dry, just so that my bag wouldn’t end up stinking of sweat along with all the other lovely scents that have gathered in there over the last month and a half.

Now my whole body is sore; my chest, my upper and lower arms, my legs, my back and even my throat. No, he didn’t find some mysterious muscle in my throat that he felt needed training. Instead I’ve got a throat ache. I think I got it from a combination of getting caught in a rain storm the other day (even my underwear was drenched) along with the suppression of my immune system that happened as a result of the hard training. I’m glad that the dude isn’t available for the next two days, so that I can at least get some rest.

But that’s not all. I also almost managed to electrocute myself. You see, my room is not exactly rain proof and it’s been raining a great deal over the last few days. It’s not like my room gets absolutely flooded, but puddles do seem to form. My charger, unbeknownst to me, was lying in one when I decided it was absolutely essential that I recharge my laptop. I plugged it in and immediately a charge started to build up all over the laptop, which I was holding. I got three nasty shocks before I was able to pull the cord out.

Of course I am stubborn, so half an hour later I tried again (hoping that by this time the plug had dried). One more shock made me aware of the folly of my ways. I gave up on the charging till the next day. Fortunately only my ego (and possibly my nerves) were harmed and my laptop continues to function well.

No pain, no gain. At least now I know I’m going to get a little stronger, a little huskier and a little wiser about using wet electronic devices. It’s about time. I’m almost thirty and I’m still perfectly capable of electrocuting myself. I have the feeling that as the rate I'm going I'll be long dead before I'm wise.

Deja Vu

I’ve been picked up by a modelling agency in Bangalore. As I’ve told all of you I’ve been hanging around with some interesting people and one of them said ‘why don’t you go meet this guy, he’s one of the top stylists in Bangalore and blah, blah, blah.’ I no longer have any pictures, or anything from my modelling time, but I did have a great deal of time. So I thought, ‘why the hell not.’

I was given the address of the place and I got horribly lost. Of course it had to be a hot day, so by the time I arrived there (I walked again, like usual) I was absolutely drenched in sweat. I didn’t give a damn, as I thought my chances of getting any work were pretty slim anyway, without a book. So I just walked in, put a big friendly smile on my face and said ‘hi, my name is Symbol, Blah from Blah called you yesterday.’

He looked at me for a few seconds and then asked ‘do you have a book?’ I said ‘no, I’m travelling so I didn’t think I’d need it. Anyway, I haven’t modelled in a couple of years so they’re out dated.’ He looked at me for a moment longer than said, ‘we can use you.’

That, as you might have figured, was not the answer I was expected (with sweat gushing from my face and the front of my shirt wet with sweat). I stopped myself from talking for a few moments, in case I’d stutter and then just said ‘cool’.

That same evening the dude took some new pictures (to send to clients) booked me for the Bangalore fashion week (which he was managing anyway) and got me two shows. The next day he got me a free one year gym membership with a local place and told me I have one month to get in shape.

I love dead lines. They push you to perform. Getting into shape will be a fantastic thing, even if I don’t get any work. But I have the feeling this bloke is pretty serious about using me (he’s already expended a lot of effort on my behalf).

I guess there just aren’t enough white models in India right now. Apparently they fly most of them in from outside. Using me would mean not paying for the air tickets, accommodation and babysitting. That, not surprisingly, is an enticing offer for any stylist cum event organizer.

So what does that mean? Well, I suppose it means I’m going to be sticking around Bangalore for a while longer. I’ll have to make short day trips to the surrounding area. That doesn’t bother me, though. Bangalore is filled with excellent people and I’m sure I’ll even learn to deal with the 11:30 closure time.

Plus there’s a ton of cheap book shops around the city, so I can pick up anything I want to read. I paid four Sing dollars for two books the other day! And if things go wrong? Well, then I’ll just go back to my original plan and keep moving. It’s great living out of only two backpacks. It only takes about an hour to leave almost anywhere.

Still in Bangalore

As the title might already have given away, I’m still in Bangalore. My days have been occupied with writing, reading, drinking coffee, going out and generally spending too much money. I might have mentioned this before, but the clubs in Bangalore close early, frustratingly early. At 11:30, just when you’re really in the groove, the lights come on and the staff start to usher the people out. For me the night only really gets started around twelve, so it has been quite an adjustment.

In the beginning I thought that this would result in fantastic after parties, where all the crowd in the know go to continue revelling deep into the night. But either I’m not hanging out with the crowd in the know, or these parties don’t actually exist in Bangalore. The best I’ve been able to find is to end up sitting in an apartment that needs a new coat of paint with a group of guys who need more female friends.

The result is that I’ve been going out every day of the week, just in order to get the number of hours together that I’d normally do on one or two nights back in Singers. I wonder if the way I’m partying now is more or less expensive than the way I used to party before.

So why am I still here? I’m not exactly sure, to be honest about it. I like the people I’m hanging out with and they are probably the primary reason that I’m still hanging around. Travelling has always been about meeting new people for me. The people here are interestingly different, with a whole new set of hang ups and problems. Watching them has given me some insights into how I deal with my own problems.

One of the biggest problems I’m currently stumbling over time and again is that deep down I’m actually shy and of the opinion that I’m not that good at making contact with new people. I’ve made it my mission to stamp that trait out before I leave India. So far, however, I haven’t been doing as well as I might have liked. I constantly doubt my own ability to initiate an interesting conversation. I know intellectually that I can keep a good conversation going with most people, but unfortunately my fears and worries don’t really care a great deal for what I consciously know. Communication is in so many ways a subconscious thing.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that I am apparently unapproachable. I don’t know why that is, but ever person I end up speaking to I speak to either from my own initiative or through an introduction by somebody else I already know. I realise that this is pretty normal for most people, but everybody must occasionally get approached by a stranger interested in meeting somebody new, right? Well apparently they prefer initiating those kinds of conversations with people other than myself.

It must be something in my body language that seems to scream ‘danger, do not approach’. The problem is that I haven’t quite yet figured out what it is that I do. Do I appear too arrogant? Too cocky? Too self assured?

What ever it is (and I am determined to find out what it is) it is leading to me not being approached, while my own insecurities lead to me not approaching. Those two things together, in turn, lead to me spending a great deal of time sitting alone in all the cafes, coffee shops, bars and restaurants I frequent.

I guess it's simply another barrier that needs to be overcome. I'll keep you posted about how well I'm doing in overcoming it.

Infinity

Don’t think too hard about what is to follow. It isn’t meant to make sense. It isn’t meant to be understood. If it was supposed to be understood, then I would have made it understandable, wouldn’t I? I don’t care about what you really think. Just give me your compliments; just give me your praise. If you tell me the truth I’ll smile and nod, while inwardly wondering at what you’re trying to prove.

The colour of truth is an awful shade of green that nobody really likes. It’s one of those colours that’s available, but so few people paint with. It is only there to shock and awe. It’s one of those things to which we pay lip service, but we never truly appreciate. Truth is a dagger, driven into comfort’s heart.

The syllabus of creation theory is a manuscript written with the sole purpose of destroying reason. If we really wanted to think, we wouldn’t rely on God; instead we would rely on our own judgement, a flawed mismatch of chaos and misunderstanding, a troubled tool of uncertainty and confusion.

When the time comes for our own demise, will we run screaming into the night? When the time comes to pay the Pied Piper, will we haggle for a better deal? It doesn’t matter that we say we’re ready, when the real time comes we’re bound to find that our existence was both too short and too brutish. If we were happy with the little time we were given, then we’ve obviously lived too long.

Try to understand what I’m failing to tell you. Try to comprehend the beauty of my dementia. After I’ve committed suicide, I’ll be certain to clean up the mess. I’ll drag around my lifeless body and wash my carcass with the waters of forgiveness. Even if it then remains tainted, at least I tried to make the best of it. I’ve tried to take this moment and draw it into eternity.

The eternal moment continues into infinity. The boredom was excruciating. It was that extended bus trip, with us stick forever one third of the way through. It was that road trip with those people you called friends, but never really liked.

The bottom of the bottle draws near, but yet I’m too far along to believe I should end it. The last grains of sand are wasted on regret. Don’t hope for anything more than you’ve got. After all, only when we’ve lowered our expectations to where we’ve already met them will we ever be happy with what we’ve got.

I dream of the stars and how one day I will conquer them. I dream of a time where eternity is at my beck and call. It doesn’t matter that she’ll hate me. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. Ultimately I will just take her and even if she will hate our children for the pain they have caused her, the beauty of my love will eclipse the sordid way that I have created everlasting pain and destroyed her hope for redemption.

Delusions of Grandeur

How logical are you as an individual? Chances are that you consider yourself far more logical than you really are. The reason for this is that you (just like everybody else) post rationalise. You apply logic after the fact and then believe that it was always there. Very often we react out of an emotional basis, but then fool ourselves later into believing that it was all done from a completely logical point of view. Though we might not be able to change what we did terribly much (though even that is possible) we can change why we did it.

Our motivations for our actions are largely internal and frequently not immediately shared with those around us. For that reason the only person who could possibly notice them changing is you and, since you never vocalised them, the chance of you noticing that happening is rather slim.

That is especially true considering the weakness of memory. Every single time you remember something, what you’re really doing is remembering the memory as you last remembered it. Yes, that sounds like quite twisted way of saying the same thing, but it isn’t quite. If you remember something you recall it from your memory, bring it into your conscious mind, play around with it and then put it back in your memory. There is no backup copy that remains behind!

Every single time you do that little details change. This is made even easier because, contrary to the common held view, memories are stripped off all but the most essential information so as to make it easier to store them. The rest of the memory isn’t actually memory at all, but simply your imagination filling in the details.

You’d think you’d notice, wouldn’t you? But of course you don’t, because the only thing you have to compare your memory to is, well, it self. You have (as mentioned before) no backup. There is no part of you that’s going ‘but wait a minute, wasn’t her coat red the last time I remembered this?’ because the only thing you have to go by is your memory and if you this time remember her coat as blue, well then it must have been blue all along, mustn’t it?

The only way to compare memories is to look at other people that were there at the same time. These people have their own memories and will frequently have memories quite different from your own. This is, in fact, the proof of changing memories.

So with these memories so easily changed, it becomes easy to make yourself appear much more thoughtful and intelligent, as well as far less emotional and capricious than you really are. Add to that the halo effect (in which we think we’re more special than everybody else for the simple reason that we are the only person we are fully aware of) and you’ve got a situation where you think you performed more reasonably in the past than you did and you predict you’ll behave more reasonably in the future than others.

No wonder complete strangers are almost as good at predicting our future actions as we are.

It's raining men

Today it’s raining. I think it’s been raining softly for most of the day (a very Dutch style of rain where the rain is really fine, almost like mist and you can walk through it, but it’s cold and continuous) but I wouldn’t know as I was asleep for a great part of it.

Last night I was invited to some of the guys’ home who I’ve been hanging out with. They live in two bedrooms somewhere a short distance away from the centre. We sat and talked about everything from the size of the galaxy to good literature and even, dare I say it, gossip. Yes, occasionally even I gossip.

I crashed out there for a couple of hours, then headed back to my new hotel (which has a 24 hour door, a must for me I’ve found) where the managers looked quite surprised to find me walking in at 11 o’clock in the morning. They probably thought I had had a much more adventurous night than I had actually had.

I slept some more and now I’m back near the MG road (short for Mahatma Gandhi Road). It’s three o’clock and I have another suspicion tonight will not end early.

That’s all cool, except I have one important question that I need answered: Where are all the women? It’s very strange for me to hang out in almost completely male company. It seems like the sexes don’t mix very much over here at all. Though there are women about they seem to almost always be either in the company of each other, or in the company of their boyfriends; and this is in one of the most western cities of India.

I’m going to have to figure out how to solve this, because I find idea of remaining womanless for much longer very unappealing. And no, not just in that way. It isn’t always about carnal knowledge, you dirty minded dodger! Well maybe it is a little, but there is more to it than that. I’d like to meet and get to know (in the normal sense, not the biblical one) Indian women. I’d like to understand how they tick and how different they are from the women I’m used to.

So far, almost all the conversations I’ve had with women have been with Western ones. That’s cool, but I already have a reasonable idea about how Western women work. It’s how the South Asians fit together that still mystifies (and therefore intrigues) me.

First Impressions

Yesterday Morning at four o’clock I arrived in Bangalore, along with two other travellers that I had been moving around with for the last ten days. They crashed out in a hotel (which was hard to find) and I took to the city. Bangalore is a great deal more western than Chennai and after quite a while on the road now I kind of needed that. I drank coffee, wandered around western shops (which were still too expensive for me even here) and generally enjoyed myself, while still looking for a better hotel.

I ended up meeting the other travellers in a coffee place and we sat around sipping cappuccinos. A couple of tables away from us was a peculiar dressed fellow. His shirt was unbuttoned almost a couple of buttons too far, he was wearing aviator glasses on an overcast day and so forth. I remarked on him and the English bloke I was with (the couple were both English) remarked:

‘He looks like a twat’

I decided to find out if he was one. I went over, struck up a conversation and ended up chatting with him for a couple of hours about religion, psychology and other related topics. He turned out to be a genuinely nice guy. The reason he was dressed like that? He was a part time model and worked in marketing. One man’s twat is another man’s fashion icon.

In the evening he offered to take me clubbing and we ended up in some hidden trance/ house. Club dancing at about twice the energy level of the rest of the room (and the rest of the room wasn’t holding back, either). Another bloke joined us and we just danced. Barely any alcohol (he doesn’t drink as he’s a practicing Muslim and I couldn’t drink because the prices were just way out of my league) just cigarettes and positive energy. I haven’t done that in a while.

Now it’s just a question of how long I will stay in Bangalore. The other two travellers I was with have moved on. They couldn’t take the heckling out here and I do have to say that it can really get on your nerves, but then nobody ever said that India would be easy and I’ve already experienced that first hand.

Out and About in Chennai

Things are much better now. I’m healthy again (I think, the Imodium hasn’t stopped working yet, so I’m not completely sure) and except for the fact that the bus broke down on the way back to Chennai, everything has been going pretty smoothly.

Yesterday I went out. We went to some westernish style bar, drank a couple of beers, then moved on to gin and then got hit on by an old faggot who had flown in from Australia, probably with the intention of finding himself a toy boy. That wasn’t quite so amusing, especially considering that initially we had a pretty good discussion about politics. I knew he was gay right from the start, but I thought I was giving the right signals to make him aware that I wasn’t interested. Apparently he didn’t see it that way after pouring two bottles of champagne down his throat.

After that we met the New South Wales Cricket team and went up to one of their rooms (don’t worry, there were some women). They had absolutely smashed the place. Clothes were strewn about, people were passed out from alcohol abuse and the toilet lid had been smashed by some drunken, oversized lout.

It was mystifying, watching them in action. They just assumed that everything would work the same way as back home. One of the people I was with (not a member of the cricket team) probably explained it best when he said ‘they are just country lads with no real world experience, who found out one day that they could throw a ball’.

They drank and they drank and they kept ordering more booze, even after the 11:30 booze curfew had passed. The hotel kept given them drink, as these guys were like gods to them. One of the Indian people I was with excitedly told us that he had seen a cricket legend in the pub he’d been in before. That turned out to be their coach. The Indian man could initially barely contain his excitement. That changed a bit when he was sitting with them and watched how they were behaving, at which point his excitement mixed with confusion and unease.

It’s interesting to see when West and East clash and can’t get to grips with each other. It also happened over in SEA, but it is much more apparent here. Probably because the Indians are far more direct in giving their opinions. When the South East Asians don’t like something you do, they gossip about it afterwards. When the Indians don’t like what you do, they yell at you.

I’m learning how to yell back.

Alien

There’s been so many things that the Indians do that have just left me shaking my head in disbelief. I’ve been told so many stories about other people’s adventures that just leave me wondering if the Indian people are actually human, or belong to another species entirely.

I’ve already mentioned their ability to lie straight to your face without a shred of guilt or worry that you’re going to find out just a few minutes later that they’ve lied to you. For example, a man in the queue behind me at the bus station told me that I had to get a ticket from a special office. He knew it was bullox and he knew I was going to come right back to that same bus a few minutes later, obviously pissed that I’d been tricked out of my position in the queue. Yet it made no difference to him, he still said it.

Or their complete different interpretation of personal hygiene. As many of you might well know, the Indians use their right hands to eat and their left hands to wipe their bum. Now that would be a great idea if they would use toilet paper or, barring that, they would then use soap to wash their hands. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure many of them do use soap, but many of them don’t! What’s even worse, sometimes you walk up to the washing basin area and you can’t even find soap there! You’re like ‘this is a restaurants, I’m sure that the cooks have to do their business sometimes, they don’t have soap at the wash basins and I imagine they can’t cook with only one hand. Hmmmm….’

That’s like that story of a town that they spent a great deal of money on to build toilets in this little village, then they came back a couple of months later and found that the people were using it for storage. Why? Because the villagers preferred crapping out in the open by the river. You don’t crap in the house, that’s dirty! You crap outside, preferably by the river so that it washes away (and the dysentery only affects the villages down river).

Or the place where the government spent huge amounts of cash to cover up the open sewers and the people then proceeded to rip back open those same sewers, as they preferred to have them there to do their business in, or throw their waste in.

But then they won’t clean bathrooms. That is a task only left for the lowest of the low. To ask people to clean the bathroom is a certain way to be ostracized and ridiculed.

Or their completely different way of interacting socially. When a woman engages in idle chit chat with a man, for instance, that pretty much means that she is sexually interested in him (according to the man, anyway). Or the way they take western politeness (when they are trying to sell you things on the streets, for example) and means that the person is really actually interested in the product but just being difficult.

And the way you can say ‘no’ seven times and they will still ask you an eighth, a ninth and a tenth. You can’t have a conversation with somebody who sells something without them ever giving up on trying to sell you that thing!

Now I’m sure I’m grossly over generalising, but so far this place has been truly alien. I’m still waiting for the good stuff.

Internal Workings

I only just got up. It’s 5 PM. No, I didn’t go out last night and get plastered. I was, I fact, on the set of a Tamil movie (a little like Bollywood movies, but then down south) as an extra, acting like a stupid white person. That ended at two o’clock (though they tried to keep us there till five, as they weren’t finished yet). Then we went home and back to sleep.

The reason I was only able to get out of bed only a bit ago was because apparently on the set they fed me some bad food. As a result, all I’ve been able to do is poo, sleep and occasionally get out of bed to complain for a few minutes.

The problem was that while I was sleeping it was very hard to control my bowels and I couldn’t not sleep. Suffice it to say I’ve been forced to hand wash a lot of underwear. I hate being sick as it makes you hate what ever you’re doing. Right now I really don’t want to be out here in India. I’d much rather be somewhere clean, organised and understandable. Yesterday I was loving India, so I know it’s just the illness, but still.

I’m in a little place called Mamalapuran (or something like that) which is half way between Chennai and Pondicherry. Tomorrow, or the day after, I’ll be travelling up north with a couple of people to do a night on the town. We’ve been invited to join a PHD student who is out here to do her anthropology studies.

After that chances are I’m going to hit Bangalore (I want to get over to the west coast). Right now, however, I don’t really feel like moving at all. I just want to sleep more and get well.

I still haven’t figured out why I’m here. A girl I was chatting to a few nights ago explained that there are normally three types of travelers; the hippies, the naïve and the mystics. I didn’t fit into any of those categories, according to her. Maybe that’s because people like me don’t normally go travelling in places like this.

I think I went on this trip even though I no longer really wanted to go, simply because I’d been telling myself for so long I wanted to go. Not that it’s been bad. I’ve enjoyed myself tremendously and don’t regret it. I do often wake up, though, and ask myself ‘Why am I here?’

When I know, I’ll be sure to tell you.

Pondycherry (or how ever you write it)

Yesterday I took a 3 and ½ hour bus ride down from Chennai to this place. It’s an old French colony that still retains a great deal of the French attitude and architecture. Many of the buildings here are hundreds of years old and really do make you feel like you’re in France, if you can ignore the fact that everybody is a great deal darker, dirtier and more conservative (yes, the majority of the Indians are more conservative than the French, believe it or not).

Last night I stayed at an Ashram. The problem with that was that the Ashrams have a number of rules. These are 1) No alcohol, 2) No smoking, 3) No drugs and 4) no coming back after 10:30. Now I can do rules one, two and three (oi! I heard that!) but number four is just too much. What, am I sixteen again? It’s not that I have to stay out beyond 10:30. I just want to be able to have the choice (very Dutch trait, that).

So this morning I got up at seven, got out of the hotel by eight and walked around till 11 to find a new place. The reason I had to walk around so long was that everything was full, too expensive or just nasty.

I’m now staying at a guest house that has obviously just been turned into one (there’s still screws lying around and that kind of stuff). It isn’t half as nice as the Ashram, but at least I can come and go as I please.

I did just have to switch rooms, though. The reason? There was no water in my old room. That’s a bit annoying when you got a slight case of Delhi belly and there’s no new water to flush the toilet.

My new room has a balcony and (this is a very interesting feature) a bathroom that I can only get to by way of the balcony. I hope the neighbours don’t mind seeing a half naked Dutch man shuffle around in plain view, because if they do, well I guess they’ll just have to turn the other way.

So far India has been a great deal milder than everybody seems to have suggested. Though the occasional smell has assaulted my nose and the occasional taut has harassed me, it has all been pretty smooth sailing (well, except for the mosquitoes, the lack of water, Gandhi’s revenge and the interesting interior design).

I found an internet place that has wireless, aircon and great coffee. Unfortunately I think I drank a bit too much of the coffee, because it’s 12 at night and I’m still very much wide awake (despite spending half the day walking around).

Well, I guess that just means I’ve got more time to write. No rest for the wicked; or the caffeinated, for that matter.

Lair

I checked into a room in Chennai that was advised to me by the Lonely Planet. The place was a bit run down, but it was clean enough and it had a nice view of a little lake by a temple, out back. I said ‘what the hell, I can always get a new room tomorrow’. I noticed that there was no mosquito net and that there were some pretty big gaps in the windows. I asked the boy that was showing me around if there were any mosquitoes.

‘No,’ the boy said, ‘there are no mosquitoes.’

It is now four o’clock in the morning and I am not exaggerating when I say that I’ve killed more than twenty so far. And the little fuckers are still flying around!

In order to kill them I just turned on the light and sat on my bed, waiting for them to sit down on me. Then smack! Dead mosquito. The first time I did that I must have killed about 15 in the space of ten minutes. I didn’t have enough hands to kill them all.

I tried going back to sleep after that, but they just kept biting me. Add to that that the bed is too short for me and not very comfortable, plus I haven’t had a smoke (which had apparently, without me realising it, become a big sleeping aid, as I’d been smoking before I went to sleep for the last few weeks) and I don’t think it’s very likely at all that I’m going to be able to get any sleep tonight.

I can’t believe that that boy just lied to me like that. He must have known there were mosquitoes. If he had told me, I would have gone out and got some spray (which admittedly I should have done anyway, but never mind that).

It’s the second confirmed time since I walked out of the airport that somebody lied straight to my face, without a pang of guilt. The first time it was a tuk tuk driver who told me straight out that a taxi was 475 rupees and his tuk tuk was only 300 to get into the city. I didn’t believe him, walked up to the taxi stand and was only charged 280 rupees to get where I wanted to go.

Will this happen everywhere I go? Do many Indians just lie to get what they want? I’m going to have serious trouble with that, if they do. I can’t stand liars.

My hand is covered with blood splatters from all the mossies I’ve killed. I can’t wash it off, because the water has been turned off. This is turning out to be one hell of a first night in India.

Well, at least things can’t get much worse, right?

Famous last words.

Social Evolution

Since I believe in evolution theory, I accept that everything has evolved for a reason. Nothing is superfluous and everything either gives an advantage to our genes, or was a side effect of something that gave an advantage to our genes. Now these types of ‘advantages’ might not always be advantageous for the species (e.g. peacock tails), but nonetheless it evolved for a reason.

Since this includes everything, this also includes social interaction and courtship, especially the underlying urges that drive our interactions. Specific actions in a social situation might well be learned and imitated, but the underlying pressures and motivation are genetic in origin.

In terms of male/ female interactions often what is happening is genetic selection. The male needs to demonstrate his prowess, which the female then uses to select the highest placed male that they can.

This bears out in numerous studies, with the interesting trend that for long term relationships men and women almost always end up with somebody of similar physical beauty (with physical beauty often having a direct correlation to physical fitness).

The elaborate process we therefore go through to find and mate is actually a highly necessary, as annoying as that may be. It is only through this process that value can be demonstrated and the appropriate partner can be selected (Generally by the female, I might add. It seems that in general men strut and women chose. This fits in nicely with the fact that men can impregnate many, while women can only be impregnated once, leading to men needing to be less choosy in whom they sleep with.)

If you look at the mating ritual as an evolutionary process, it suddenly becomes a bit easier (note the bit) to understand a large number of the actions that both sides undertake. Of course men do the approaching, as they need to make the women aware of their availability. Of course women will be choosy about who they sleep with, as bearing the children of a dunce will be a huge waste of resources.

Of course, among humans it is no longer only physical prowess that needs to be demonstrated. Human males must also demonstrate their social status (as people with high social status make better providers) and their mental competence (same as before). Of course, women must do the same in order to demonstrate their own value, though both sexes do so in notably different ways.

So next time you’re stuck in a mating dance and wondering what the hell to do, think from an evolutionary perspective ‘what would her genes want me to do?’

Now there’s a big difference between the above question and the normal question most men ask. Most men ask ‘what would she like me to do’ but that is something quite unrelated to what the genes might want. She would probably like a nice, pliable guy that brings her many gifts and is meek and easily controllable. But do her genes want that?

No! They want something completely different. They went somebody tough, bad and in some ways nasty, as somebody like that would be much better prepared to fight off possible dangers and raise the likelihood of her offspring surviving (even if she might not actually be happy with him).

Girls like nice guys, but their genes know that most likely those nice guys are a genetic dead end. So, though they will befriend the nice guys, they won’t sleep with them. Nice guys make good allies and second choices, but ultimately the rougher, tougher guys will dramatically increase the chance of a large number of offspring carrying on the lineage.

Self Perception

Apparently, a perfect stranger is almost as good at predicting our future actions as we are.

The reason, it seems, is because we give ourselves a halo of importance and ability. We believe that we are far more capable and in control of ourselves than we really are. We are more objective about strangers than we are about ourselves and our loved ones. Our high regard for ourselves actually distorts our perception of ourselves.

Therefore, when we predict our future actions we believe we will be far more ethical, brave and able than we really are. This, not surprisingly, has serious consequences for the choices we make. We end up choosing a course of action that is not actually the most suited for ourselves.

Another interesting little tit-bit: When they gave professional gamblers more and more information about the horses participating in a race their actual ability to predict who was going to win the race didn’t actually improve. The only thing that improved was their belief that they were making the right prediction!

What this means is that we’re not very good at weighing the significance of a certain factor, especially if there are many other factors competing for our attention. When there are only three statistics available, we can do a relatively good job at balancing them against each other and deciding how to weigh them. When the number of variables increases, however, it becomes harder to attach the right weighing and our accuracy does not increase overall.

So what does that mean?

It means that our confidence in making the right decision is much higher than the actual likelihood of us making the right decision. Therefore, it is important to always accept that a decision you’re making has a high chance of being the wrong one. This doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t make decisions (indecisiveness is a terrible trait to have, and I should know), but that we should be more willing to alter our decisions as we realise that we’ve made the wrong one.

The best way to deal with our obvious inability to make the right decisions is to be adaptable enough to change our minds when we find out we’re wrong. Unfortunately, this is apparently goes against another human characteristic, as we don’t like to change our minds once we’ve made a decision (we’re all very stubborn, it seems).

If we could fight this, however, then we should have an incredible advantage over those around us. By being more adaptive and accepting of our own faults and wrong decisions should ultimately lead us to make more right decisions.

But of course, I could be wrong about all of this…

Bored out of my skull

I haven't really spoken to anybody for about 24 hours. Some of the people on the street try and I had a short conversation with this mediation traveller chick from holland, but for the rest it's been just me, myself and I.

Unfortunately I'm far to dependent on social interaction to be very good at that. It's kind of funny, I desperately crave social interaction but find it very hard, recently, to just talk to people. Even when people talk to me I'm generally very reserved and distant. It's like they have to prove that their interesting before I'll engage.

Which is an interesting counter point to this mediation traveller chick from holland (hereafter MTCFH, which is unpronouncable but at least readable), who was completely open, outgoing and spontantious. Her body language (I'm currently studying bodylanguage in a couple of e-books I downloadeD) was completely open and with no holding back. I could see that she met a lot of people and made a lot of friends.

Of course, it isn't totaly my fault as the place I'm currently staying is is competely devoid of people I would normally start a conversation with. The only people here are old, families or couples. They are not interested in me and I'm not interested in them.

Tomorrow night this big budhist festival starts and I originally came down to see that. The unfortunate thing about it is that it is that the government has installed a ban on all alcohol for the entire duration. That means that all the pubs, bars and clubs (places where I normally find it quite easy to meet people) are all closed.

I know nobody, I can't drink, there is nobody at my guest house to talk to and there are no interesting things to do as far as I can discover (and I've asked). I am, in other words, looking at a second night of sitting in my hotel room, smoking spliffs and wanking.

I think I'm going to piss off tomorrow (bugger the festival), but I have no idea where I'm going to go. I don't want to go back to colombo and I don't want to end up in yet another place where there is nobody to talk to.

Oh woe to the poor lonely travelling backpacker that is me.

Yeah, I know, I really don't have anything to complain about, but when you're bored you need something to kill the time, right?

The first of many

So staying in Sri Lanka turned out to be a mistake. I decided to stay an extra week, after I finally managed to hook up properly with this model chick I discussed earlier. I thought, ‘one more week will be good! We’ll hang out and have fun. Then I’ll leave for real and we’ll both have good memories.’ Unfortunately, the moment that I decided to stay longer she turned weird on me.

It was to be expected. Any chick that will have you on the side of her boyfriend is bound to have some inherent weirdness. I could have kept things going, but decided I didn’t like this ‘half way here, half way there’ bullshit that was going on, so I said to her ‘tomorrow I’m leaving Colombo. I’m going to go up north. You can come if you like, but you leave your baggage behind.’

She couldn’t, of course. It didn’t really come as any kind of surprise. She tried to explain herself and I told her not to bother. I only cared that she wasn’t coming, the reasons why were really of no importance to me what so ever. Guilt, self loathing, honour, values, whatever. It’s all that same, in the end.

So how do I feel now? A bit sad, I’ll admit honestly. It was never going to work out (conversation was difficult, to say the least), but it was still fun while it lasted. I also feel relieved, however. It’s time to continue my journey and at least I know that it was all my decision (when she told me she wasn’t coming I informed her that then it was better we didn’t see each other again, as a clean break was better).

She was definitely the oddest girl I’ve ever been with. She’s left some good memories, and ultimately that’s what it’s all about, right?

It was a mistake to stay here, but I don’t regret it. I’ve learned from it. The next super hot model that bounces up to my table won’t have it so easy, I promise you that! I’m glad I’m completely alone again. That’s how it was supposed to be. All I hope is that my next few months will be as interesting as the first one was. Then I’ll be happy.

What's going on here?

It’s weird. Ever since I’ve left Singapore I’ve not really received any E-mails, or any comments on my Blog, or any visitors for that matter. It’s like I suddenly stopped to exist, or the people I used to know have ceased to exist, or that I’ve moved to some parallel universe.

Before anybody suspects of it, I’m not whinging, or asking you all to start writing, visiting and commenting more, I’m just noticing a strange occurrence. Is it coincidence, or is the fact that I’m somewhere far away make me seem less accessible, or less contactable? Does the idea ‘he’s on a trip’ influence the frequency of how often people are likely to type in my e-mail address and send me something? Or is all that just hogwash and is it really because I’ve stopped writing e-mails and haven’t put anything interesting on my blog for a while?

I don’t know. I’d ask you guys to comment, but you wouldn’t anyway, so I won’t bother. (That sounded a bit nasty, didn’t it?). I guess I’ll just keep doing my thing and hope that the trend reverses itself. And if it doesn’t? Well, then I guess I’ll just keep writing for myself. There’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes you really are your own best audience.

Compilation

‘Rot’ the sign said, so that’s what we did. We sat and we rotted away, slowly suffocating in our own bodily fluids, the wet raspy laughter frightening away the other guests.

Giggling insanely, the leprechaun skipped away, carrying the baby’s head. The body it had left for the family to find. It was the sixteenth child he murdered, this serial killing figment of the mind. It often made designs in blood on the baby’s bedroom wall. ‘With love’ he would write, or ‘Sorry’.

What else could he do?

Boom, the cannons roared. Boom, boom, they crashed as thunder against the heavens, lighting ripping alongside. The metal balls sheared through cloth and man, ending lives and uses where ever they went.

God has decided to learn how to play the violin. He sits up, in his attic so that his angels can’t hear, and pulls the bow across the strings. A few more years, he thinks, and maybe he can play them all a little ditty. They can line up, five pence a piece, and come listen to him play.

Excitement soon fades to normality and normality slides into boredom. The wind smells of the lady’s scent.

Look carefully at my eye. Look carefully at the white space, there, in the middle, where madness holds reign. I will show you the way to enlightenment and there I will murder you, by they gooseberry bush.

With bloody hatched he worked on the body. The clinically clean room was soon splashed with the life blood of his victim, slashes of red showing the violence that he had wreaked. In the middle mutilation finds a new home. When you can no longer recognise it as human it just becomes another piece of meat.

The trees have died. Petrified by the bomb blast they stand as testimonies to a better time. Grim monuments to laughter and love. Pray here at my shrine. Pray to the gods of yore, for they will deliver you to instinct.

Screaming and raging, frothing at the mouth the beast inside slavers at the bonds. It would break every convention, it would destroy every norm. Letting it free would end me. Thousands of miles of chain span the width of my understanding, weaving together my reality in a web of bondage and restraint.

Death had a cousin. He was the black sheep of the family, often sitting for days on the couch, beer in one clawed talon, the remote in the other, zapping through visions of alternity. The eyeless corpse stares right back. There is no hint of recognition, there is not even a hint of awareness, but you sit frozen in fear.

A lone crow caws its annoyance.

Message in a Bottle

In two days I leave for India. I’ve been in Sri Lanka for 18 days now. It will be 20 by the time I leave.

For the last few days I’ve been down south, eating, drinking, smoking and being merry. It was a strange experience, just hanging around, chatting and not doing much of anything else. The guest house we were staying at was fantastic, as it had these lying areas covered with mats and cushions that we just felt no urge to leave. Add to that great food, a view of the beach and smoke and you’ve got a very centralised holiday, but one that is memorable nonetheless.

India I will do alone. I’m looking forward to that. I had a great time hanging out with my buddies, but I didn’t really meet anybody except for them. In the first week I met half the city, while for the next ten days I don’t think I really met anybody new that I wasn’t introduced to by those people I met in the first week.

When you have no choice but to be social, you suddenly find that it’s not to hard to strike up a random conversation. When you already have your established group, on the other hand, you approach less people and generally become less approachable. That’s a fact of life and one that can only be avoided by travelling alone.

So India, here I come!

For the next four months I probably won’t be meeting anybody that I knew from before this trip. Only at new years will friends from before come out to meet me. That should give me enough time to really get to know myself again. In the last few weeks I’ve come to the conclusion that some things in my personality can be improved upon and I think it is easiest to do that in an environment where nobody knows you. At least in that way they will simply accept you for who you are and not judge you by who you were.

What I want to focus on is being more consistently outgoing with the people around me. I want to stop paying quite as much attention to the little guy on my shoulder who always whispers in my ear ‘you shouldn’t say that, that’s stupid, it will only make people laugh at you’. I think ultimately it’s okay to look stupid sometimes, as long as you accept your stupidity gracefully.

I also want to bring my self consciousness under better control. There is no need for me to worry so much about what other people think. What’s more, I find that those people that seem to care the least about what other people think are often the people best (or worst) at interacting and entertaining the people around them.

I don’t have to be so reserved all the time. It gains me little and probably loses me a lot of opportunities.