Khakra

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Stuck in Kamloops -- Part 3

(Part 1, 2)

After spotting a Punjabi woman selling samosas in remote Canada, atop a mountain, we headed to Kamloops, a a snug city in a valley where two rivers meet.

There's not much to see there, but Kamloops' real vibe is in people's lives. (Much like Vancouver and Victoria). Overworked and struggling, life seems like a daily struggle. For good or bad, seems like they have nowhere to go.

Take the hotel manager. He complained working 14 hours a day, with their massive turnover rate. He couldn't even find people to carry luggage. Bah, this is just a manager's rant, I thought, heading out to trek.

On Day 2, I headed to the reception to get Kamloops' maps. I waited as a receptionist was chatting on the phone, giving what seemed more like a phone interview.

"Yes, I can come to Vancouver any day for lunch," she said, smiling and aware of my presence, but trying not to make eye contact.

She was thin, well groomed, with short blond hair. She was also in a bind, with me hearing the interview. I smiled, behaving like I didn't hear anything.

Another chat with her would be great, I thought. We did chat later in the day, about life in San Francisco and about Canada's skilled labor shortage, a rather grim topic among Canadians.

Kamloops is a stepping stone to big places like Vancouver and Victoria, she said. There's no shame in giving open interviews, even her bosses know that she intends to move on. She was perhaps the only qualified person available to staff the reception desk; her managers had no choice, she said.

That didn't ring true; there must be resorts as Kamloops downtown seemed weirdly active. In the evening, no downtown parking spots were available though *all* stores were shut. It just defied conventional logic. Comparable to New York or San Francisco. I kid you not.

It's a big ski town, the lady said, but lacks social life and the excitement of a tourist town, she said, as I watched her charming face turn to disgust. No Greek parties, few salsa dances. Skilled labor tries to avoid a life like this, she said.

Kamloops is only a stopover for nature enthusiasts and the timber industry, she said. I agree with that -- Kamloops' riverside is beautiful. We were greeted to a stopover of migratory geese; watching them sloppily parade around. What fun. Also got my weekly run in.

"It gets more remote as you head to Jasper [in the Canadian Rockies]," she said, adding "and I'm not going there." She's bent on getting to Vancouver, leaving Kamloops in the dust.

"Do you want my job?" she asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

An ode to my grandmother

Ba, my grandmother, was the most unassuming individual. Her love was unconditional, and she held nary a grudge.

Sitting in her little throne, a couch on the roomside, she loved watching movies. She was fond of flicks with Gujarati superstar Naresh Kanodia or Bollywood star Sanjay Dutt. She'd watch Chinese movies. English movies. Tamil movies. Language didn't matter to her, she somehow understood the visuals and patched the movie together.

We'd go crazy if an English movie was deemed too long, but she'd sit there, calm like a turtle, waiting for the next scene. The amazing patience came from a tough life she lived and a roller-coaster ride of emotions she endured. Under a tough and petite frame, inside, she was as tough as nails.

The rare tear she shed was gut-wrenching to bear and perhaps the most emotional few seconds anyone in our family ever faced. She would talk about small things and be overcome by emotion. She hoped her estranged son would come and meet her again, but she held no expectations. As long as her son was happy, she was happy.

She was a comic too. She loved banana milkshake, amusing for a traditional Indian lady who didn't enjoy modern food. Any other milkshake was "banned by religion." The exception also went to chocolates, a thing every woman needs.

The watchdog she was, Ba reported the daily activities of my younger bro and me to Mom and Dad. If we watched TV for 2 straight hours, she'd tell Mom. If we ate twinkies on the sly, she told Mom. She was the Mom's eyes; there was nowhere to escape.

Finally, we counterattacked. One day we recorded and reported everything she did to Mom -- from watching 2 Gujarati movies to drinking 2 banana milkshakes. She panicked, not expecting us to report her, and denied doing everything. In jest, she gave us a naughty glance as if to say "you finally got me!"

She mostly kept to herself; religion pulled her together. She would go to the Jain temple every morning, and we held her religious commitment in high regard. We didn't want Ba upset, so we refrained from eating nonvegetarian food at home, but we did outside.

We had codenames for non-veggie dishes -- "chicken" was "kitchen," and "kabab" was "tree" (for mint leaves that came with the kabab). Ba was smart -- she knew we ate nonvegetarian food outside but never said a thing.

Memories pinch me so hard that I can't stop shedding tears. She cried when I left home for university; she held on to my hand for a few seconds trying to stop me from going. I cry with the memory that she is now gone, no hand to hold or none of her tears to wipe away.

But it is her memorable smile of when I came back home that I'll remember the most. She lived a long life, and her memory will be forever with us.

We miss you Ba.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Marooned by 5

I thought Maroon 5 was some pimp band when I first heard of them last month, like "Lavender 6" or "Purple Velvet 1876". And I was paying a fortune for their concert tickets, so if they sucked, I was gonna destroy somebody's guitar. What I won't do for KM, who was hell bent on seeing them rock out. Lo and behold, Maroon 5's the next coming of Stevie Wonder, Sting, U2 all rolled into one, atleast for KM. Anticipating atleast 1/4th of U2, KM goaded me to hear Maroon 5 @ the Great American. "I've really never heard of this band," I told KM. "You're from Mars anyways," she responded, making fishy faces. The room was crammed with a Britney Spears meets Eddie Veder type crowd, so I didn't know what to expect. Then the band appeared, a bunch of wannabe rockstars still in their diapers. All I wanted some rockin' jammin', vocals don't mean jack. I evaluated the instruments they bought -- a few guitars, keyboards, drums, few rhythm accessories -- hmm, enough to indicate a decent jam. Hope was in view. Maroon then started ripping out songs that ringed of familiarity -- I thought I'd heard some of them in in movie promos, radios, paid bathroom stalls, everywhere. Ah, I thought, so those songs were sung by *these* guys. One of life's mysteries solved. Overall, twas a good jam. Vocals were OK, but their music, arrangements and sounds were unique. The timing of keyboards, guitars and drums were impeccable and meshed surprisingly well for such a big arrangement. It's tough for three major guitarists to put their act together to a single keyboard octane, but these guys didn't miss a beat, not once. Bringing so much together can be tough, even a terrible guitarist like me can tell you that. The songs were the usual pop fare, but the bass provided the kick I was looking for. They mixed interesting keyboard sounds with good bass guitar riffs to generate a somewhat deep bass. Not the kind you'd find with a bass viol, pick-up and strings, but good enough to please. But in the end, it's Maroon 5 and a pop concert for teeny boppers, not an a capella or jazz concert. Also tuned into the MP3 of their new single, "Makes me wonder" and it's much more polished than the concert version. Guitars are fewer. Rugged synthesizer shots accompany bass guitar. Bongos add to what's an already deep bass. Drums are less significant they they were in concert, simple keyboards riffs instead set up a stanza (not like that in concert). Essentially the keyboards are the glue that patch the song together. They make up for bass cut by drums, and act as a great set up to execute the vocals. Very clean and sophisticated pop arrangement, with interesting instrumentation and bass for a pop song. We see that in all pop songs, but this is a particularly interesting example. If you hear it the second time, forget the vocals and focus on the song's instruments. You might find something new to appreciate. And now I know Maroon 5, KM. Shut your big trash talkin' mouth.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

TV news wars

Bill O'Reilly's a TV personality you either love or hate. For all the outlandish things he's said -- most of it much worse than Rosie -- he hasn't drawn a lot of publicity. That changed, when yesterday's outburst drew the anger of media giants CNN and NBC.

On a radio show, O'Reilly -- bunching CNN and MSNBC in the left-wing caboodle -- said:

"On [O'Reilly Factor], I don't do a lot of Iraq reporting because we don‘t know what's happening. We can't find out. So I'm taking an argument that CNN and MSNBC are actually helping the terrorists by reporting useless explosions. Do you care if another bomb went off in Tikrit? Does it mean anything? No! It doesn't mean anything."

(This was in response to a study that cited Fox News doing the least Iraq coverage.)

He argued CNN and MSNBC delighted in showing bombs blast in Iraq. By showing that, they are discrediting Bush and helping the left-wing cause, he said.

Those accusations pissed off MSNBC . As a response, Dan Abrams, MSNBC's chief, interviewed a panel of network bitches and one dissenting media expert, Bob Kohn.

In a shocking reversal, Kohn made Abrams his bitch, slapping his butt at will and ripping MSNBC's fraudulent standards of claiming to be "unbiased." Abrams has no business in TV journalism, I've always maintained that, and this confirmed it.

MSNBC providing balanced coverage in Iraq and not discrediting Bush is BS, Kohn told Abrams. MSNBC openly discredits Bush, and their negative Iraq stories outnumbers their positive stories, Kohn said. That smells of bias, he said.

MSNBC atleast covered the war, Abrams debated back. He questioned O'Reilly and Fox News' patriotism and commitment to America by not covering the war.

And Kohn started his bashing right there.

KOHN: This is like McCarthyism. You know...

ABRAMS: How‘s that?

KOHN: Because you guys complain that your patriotism was being questioned when you guys spoke out against the war. Now you‘re questioning this [O'Reilly's] dedication...to the troops. I think you're taking this out of context. He was definitely making a point here about the journalism that's going on here.

And...

ABRAMS: As the person who runs the network, Bob, are you accusing me of telling people to cover the story a way that embarrasses the administration?

KOHN: You're not a news reporter, you're an analyst, OK? [There's a difference between reporters and analysts. Reporters don't make decisions sitting on desks or sofas, analysts do.]

ABRAMS: Right, and I also run MSNBC. [That's why Abrams sucks, and why MSNBC has been faltering. Abrams shifting his weight means he has no argue or response left.]

KOHN: We have numbers that say NBC is biased, OK?

ABRAMS: ...There is great pride in the way we have covered ... the story. There is no shame ...that MSNBC has ended up covering ... the most important story facing Americans today.

KOHN: But don't claim to be objective!

--

Abrams assumed O'Reilly was in an "indefensible" position, but Kohn turned the table and embarassed MSNBC. Assuming O'Reilly in a weak position before the segment shows "biased" coverage. Every good reporter knows not to assume that before covering a story.

That's a small sampler of why Abrams is a failure. Let's hope he doesn't garbage MSNBC completely. He hasn't done anything to improve MSNBC, while Fox News, as trashy as it is, improves and continues to innovate with experiments like "Red Eye."

Back to O'Reilly, I don't like or hate the guy. He's successful because he is a showman, and he draws attention with whatever he says. Like Rosie. Can you do that?

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Property hijinx

"Who is it?" I shout into my buzzer.

"We've come to see the condo," she says.

"My neighbor's condo is on sale. Please buzz 9." I tell her.

It happened three times. Downstairs, I notice: the apartment number on the "For Sale" placard is wrong.

That's my afternoon. It's nasty outside, I'm sleepy, and apartment prices in San Francisco are going into the "crazy" stratosphere.

I just saw the place. It's decent, nothing fantastic. The jazzed up place has 2 fair-sized bedrooms, 2 baths, skylights. View is good. A parking spot. My building's construction isn't brilliant, the walls not soundproofed. The pipes are decades old.

And the clincher -- bidding for it starts at US$1 million. Am I dreaming?? For a piece of junk? An apartment in this building was $559,000 when I moved in 4 years ago, it has doubled since then.

It's good equity, said my roommate, and San Francisco's property prices may or may not go down. Waiting for the bubble to burst shouldn't be a reason to not buy an apartment, she said. San Francisco's still cheap compared to Palo Alto, where every inch of earth is worth gold.

I sigh and catch a glimpse of the real estate agent. She's radiant, knowing a good payday's on tap.