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Where I live, there are at least 7 languages flying around. Mizo, Kom, Assamese, Hindi, Burmese, English, other ones I don’t know, and Englindi(thanks ty). Since there are so many, and it would be impossible to remember even 3 words in each, I figured I’d learn Mizo, the language of the place I live, so I could maybe communicate with people in Aizawl, if I didn’t sound like an idiot.

I have so far learned 10 or so words, a few phrases and am trying to learn more each day. I know Mizo for thank you, hello, goodbye, yes, no, would you like some tea?, yes, I like some tea, sit down, wow, and that might be all of them. But still, it’s a struggle to remember all these. I had a Mizo teacher for a while, she was planning on teaching me a word a day until I left, but, it turns out, that she left before I did. Daisy and her husband got up and headed out one fine Saturday night, leaving me illiterate. Like Rocky Balboa.

Now I have Andrew and Autumn to teach me, as well as a bunch of college guys and girls that speak like 9 languages each. I’d say Becky would be the most reliable, but she likely knows a good dozen languages. As much as I hate French, I now regret only being able to speak one language. Canadians have it easy. Everyone around them speaks the same language, without accents, for miles, and everyone wants to learn our language. French is taught in schools, I still don’t really know why, because I would never use it, but it would still be nice to know more than one language.

The names of humans is also like a language here. The way they say their names is so cool, everyone sounds like a movie star or a kungfu master, until I say their names, they sound like the names of idiot hippy children from Cali. My accent ruins everything. When a girl told me her name was Mashiati, it sounded sweet, but he only thing I could get out of my mouth was Machete. Not as graceful.

The names of towns do the same thing to me. They don’t spell the name of a town the same everywhere. In some places they call it Chanmari, some places Chandmary, some places Chandmarieiy. And that just doesn’t help. Get it straight, India, get it straight. Help a white brotha out.

I already wrote a blog today, but I took it down, because this one is way more important.

check out another new means song HERE.
so good it makes my knees weak, my face smiley, my gut hurt, my head bob.
wow.

Yeah, I’m 6 years old, I think bugs are sweet. I take pictures of them, sometimes kill them, sometimes stare at them for hours. Canada doesn’t have very sweet insects residing in its land mass, but that’s ok, India has got plenty. I have seen quite a few different moths and ants, spiders and huge wasps, and caterpillars the size of your face. One of them is my friend. He lives right outside my window, doesn’t move, doesn’t do much. I haven’t named him yet, and I think that would be the final say of whether I’m a real loser or not, so I’ll hold off for a while.

One day while sitting on my bed, my window was wide open, I leave it open for air circulation throughout the day. Interrupting my music and my computer, 2 huge wasp-like things, flew in, battle royale. They landed on the ground, fluttered around for a while, I killed them with my shoe, took a picture and threw them out. They were huge, so I didn’t mess around. Rule #1 of insect killing, if they are bigger than your bicep, don’t mess around. Rule #2 of insect killing, if they are pink and fluffy, that is a definite sign of a killer, end its life quickly.
I have yet to find a pick and fluffy insect here, but, I’m sure the day is not far off.

I also often find ants running around on the wall, desk, books, my face, chest, arms and legs. Those little guys are speedy, and everywhere. And guess what, as I type right now I see one running across my fingers. We have a special relationship.

Last night I had one of those, ‘Oh mannnn, I have to go to the bathroom, and it has to be like 4am. Why aren’t I a responsible adult and go to the bathroom before I go to bed?’. It was bad. I got up, and halfway through the deed I heard a bit of a rustle and saw something move around. Then, it darted right by me, running over my foot in the process. The thing scared me so bad and almost sprayed everywhere, but held my composure and held other things to keep the bathroom clean.. Wall lizard. He ran into my room, and probably into my mouth as I slept. Then I woke up, and found some mystery thing in my bed, looked like a tarantula leg, but I doubt it. If there was a tarantula in my bed last night, I wouldn’t have woken up to see it’s leg in the morning.

I have also learned many things about vegetation on my trip. Did you know that pineapples grow in the ground? Don’t lie to me, you didn’t know. I had no clue. One of the guys told me, and pointed to a pineapple ‘sprout’ and said that eventually the pineapple would be like sitting on the ground. That’s amazing, and leaves me to ask, what the heck did they teach me in school? Nothing useful or practical, I guess.

Also, for Daphne, I’m pretty sure I eat quite a bit of garlic every day, in every meal, in every dish. But I also eat bananas, and I hear they attract mosquitoes, so I guess I’m balancing it all out. I smell like a regular guy to mosquitoes, but to the girls in India, I probably smell like a foot.

Since everyone these days is too busy, I was thinking of a Top Ten. Everyone loves them, I hate them, they are an easy way to convey a message. These are not a top ten as in, the best to the least best, but just ten things you’ll see in India. Most of them, you will see quite often and in large quantities.. Here it is.

TOP TEN THINGS YOU’LL SEE IN INDIA

1. Fantastic Advertising: Whether it is a ripped white dude selling steel or concrete, or the hottest Bollywood star selling Coke, biscuits, cellphones, diapers, dawning a great smile and perfect brown complexion, you’ll see them everywhere. Cellphone companies advertise in the most inappropriate places, like on a nice rock wall, or the back of a baby’s head.

2. Garbage. Loads of it. Again, this is everywhere too. I always thought Regina was bad for littering, but this place makes Regina look like a Greek underarm (don’t worry, I don’t even know what that means.). I don’t think there are dumps anywhere, unless you count everywhere as being a place to dump your garbage. But, it just adds to the beauty.

3. Indians. I guess this one was a bit obvious, but it is true. I have seen so many people, that I just don’t know what to do anymore. It is a little bit unbelievable the amount of people I’ve seen. The ones I have met, also an unbelievable amount, have all been hospitable, very friendly and welcoming. I’m not huge on meeting new people, but here, you can’t avoid it, so I’m getting better.

4. Hills. At least in Mizoram and Meghalaya, but they are quite cool things. Being the prairie boy that I am, mountains have always been pretty amazing to me, and they are quite rampant here. Yeah, rampant.

5. Food stands. Every corner, even in the most remote places, has small food stands where you can buy some beetlenut, candy, chips, pop, smokes, bananas and other things. I haven’t figured out how the food gets there, or how they make money off of it. I haven’t really seen warehouses that you could order a crate of Sunfeast biscuits from, so I have no clue. And wherever they buy them, they must be buying them for close to the same amount that they sell them for, therefore no profit. I don’t get it. By the way Sunfeast biscuits are the new Oreo. I’ll bring a load home, cheap as nuts, I tells ya.

6. The Rickshaw. The beautiful mode of transportation they have some places, but not Mizoram. Those things couldn’t climb a hill brand new. I have only been on one in Guwahati, and only an auto rickshaw, no bicycle. Pretty sweet thing though, what with the leather doors and pull starter. We need some in Canada

7. Dogs. Stray dogs. Sometimes laying beside of the road, looking dead. Sometimes laying on the road. Sometimes barking at the stupidest hours of the night. Always gross.

8. Taxis. Few people own their own cars here, so taxis are everywhere. You can stand at the side of the road, wave your hand, and one stops. I didn’t think that actually happened, except in the movies, but oh yes, it does happen.

9. Cellphones. I think every newborn comes with a cellphone in India. Bob bought one here, and it cost like the amount of a bottle of Coke in Canada, and the plan for it cost 1 rupee. That is about ¼ of a penny. So, with great coverage and cheap rates, everyone and their stray dog has one. They even work to talk to Canada, that amazed me.

10.The West. At least in Aizawl, there are many teenagers wearing Dead Kennedys shirts, a band that even few Westerners know about. Teenagers dressing like North American teenagers would, listening to the same crappy music, and generally western. It is familiar, but in a kinda bad way.

It’s pretty cool here though. So, if you want to come visit anytime from now until late May, you can stay in my room. I can get you a date, probably, and show you around.. Think about it.

P.S. Check out Tyler B.’s blog HERE. He is one of my oldest bros, and I love him dearly. His blog is top 2 on my list of best blogs ever, that is, when he updates it. He is behind only, Madonna’s Blog of Sin. He is profound!

P.P.S. If you are one of those people who thinks Nelly Furtado sold out on her last CD, you should just back off a bit. It’s called musical progression alright. She is a fantastic Canadian songstress that can speak numerous languages, and is as beautiful as they come. So just back right off, alright. Thanks.

I haven’t been plagued at all, throughout my time here, but it seems that everyone else around me has. A vicious cold, a day ruining flu, a hand burning fever, and about all the other things you could think of, have taken over many people. Andrew and Autumn seem to be sick everyday, sometimes they are actually being sincere, but usually, they just don’t like their teacher and don’t want to go to school. I have no sympathy to show, so I send them to their grandma.

The other day I killed a mosquito on my arm, and I’m sure it had malaria. I slapped it, and instead of a nice clean mosquito kill, or one with a good red blood colour, it was all brown, gooey and almost slimy. If that wasn’t malaria, I don’t know what it was. The bird flu perhaps. I was that close to getting the dreaded killer of the west. West Nile Virus is like two steps down from malaria on Nic’s ‘Things that will kill you slowly’ list, and I’m pretty sure I got West Nile one summer, but defeated it in a courageous display of strength. Turns out that I defeated West Nile’s older brother too. Those mosquito born viruses have got nothing on this guy. Oh, man…. Knock on wood.

Immune system like a young stallion, I have got. You can work me and work me all day, but I still come out on top.

There have also been a few hospital visits since I have been here. Yesterday, scary event, one of the college guys fell off the roof, down to the ground, about 25 feet down. All the guys were up there cleaning off the roof, including me. He broke his arm in two places, had to go to surgery, and stayed in the hospital last night, and maybe for a few more nights. I watched it happen, and I was helpless, all I could do was watch, and when he was laying on the ground below, all I could do was look.

India is a dangerous place. I am now a regular Tarzan.. Tree to tree, vine to vine, baby.

I’ve never been much of an artist. Usually my circles end up looking like triangles and my people end up looking like deformed Thundercats, but on the beautiful State Holiday that Mizoram provided me, I sat down, with endless patience and some sort of drive, to draw a picture. Sure, it still is a bit rough, but this is probably my best drawing since I drew Andre Agassi in grade 4. That took me hours.

I guess I can talk about it here. It is not just a random bunch of things that look cool on a coat of arms, but everything represents something, to me. Altogether the picture represents family. The coat of arms for the relationship I have with my siblings and parents, and also friends. More specifically…

Two Candles: mom and dad, Wilf and Laura, the mamas and the papas. I chose candles because they have always been a light for me, showing me where to go, what to do, and giving me a pretty good sense of direction for my life. In India, you get to know candles pretty well, and when all else fails, turn to the candles for light. They are always there, always reliable, always helpful, always loving.

Eye: Jerms. I have always looked up to him, ever since I can remember. He has showed me the way to do things, and the way not to, and has always been watching out for me. As an older brother he has looked down to his siblings and taken care of them. Plus he’s got such a handsome gaze and dreamy eyes.

Hourglass: Kris. My thoughts of Kris have changed drastically in the past 5 years. For most of my youth, I was afraid of him, and just avoided him. Now, we are great friends, hangout all the time, play soccer, watch movies. The hourglass represents how he has changed in my eyes, and how our relationship has changed so much.

Star: Melissa. She always told me that she was going to get a star tattoo because she liked stars, and I always thought that was the worst idea ever. Melissa has often been one of my better friends, probably because we fight so often. We’ve been so close for so many years that it is hard not to be a friend with that kind of person. We have the same sense of humor, although mine is a bit grosser, we have laughed at many things together. She has always been a sort of star in my life.

Roses: The two roses connecting, one bloomed and one bud, represent my friends, old and new. The roses are connected, just as old and new friends are, and they will grow together.

Key and Lock: Also representing friends and all the different kinds of friends I have. I have so many friends, from so many backgrounds, with so many different interests, there is no one type, or one kind of friend I have, the key is open to all.

The Banner: The banner has the words ‘In a clouded world you kept me clear, and there’s a part of you in all I’ve done.’ This is a lyric from the song ‘Libertine’ by Good Riddance, and it talks about how my family, and my friends, are a part of me, and how they bring light to my life, and how they take away the clouds. In everything I’ve done, they are a part of it. In each smile I have, they are a part of it. The picture in the top right corner of the coat of arms represents this quote.

Just thought I’d share that with you. I had a good time drawing it and I hope it made sense. If you are reading this, you likely had some influence on this picture, in some way. I will likely add more to it someday. Maybe I’ll permanently needle it onto my body someday. I guess we’ll see.

If you haven’t heard me complain enough about the internet and electrical problems of India, then read this blog. It’s really not that bad, but it is pretty easy to complain about. It makes it feel like camp, more than ever. It’s like we are in the 1980’s, when they invented electricity.

They call it current over here. If there is no power, there is no current. Everyday, almost guaranteed, for at least 2 hours, there is a power outage, and usually during the most inappropriate times. Like when Ray just begins printing a 300 page document, or just when I start talking with friends on MSN, India Power Corporation says, “No way, white man, you can’t steal my power. Go back to Canada, where power is plentiful and your father the engineer could build you a mini power plant if he wanted.” In Canada, as kids, when the power went out at school, we got excited because sometimes if the power was out long enough, for some reason, we got to go home. (Teachers are so lazy) But here, if the kids got to go home when there was no power, there would never be school.

Along with this, is the fantastic ability of the internet. Obviously, no power, no internet. Same sort of thing. Internet stops working when you are in the middle of something very important. In the middle of listening to means, the internet connection goes out, or, the power goes out and knocks out everything, including my heart. And when it does work, the miracle of dial-up makes you question whether it actually is working. Plus wireless through 4 concrete walls doesn’t help.

I have become quite the solitaire champ. My average time for a completion is 140 seconds. Each time I don’t win, however, I wonder if there was a way to win when I quit. Does anyone know the basic probability of solitaire? Any formulas? When I’m waiting for internet to load, I play solitaire. I also play the game of how many ants can I kill. Usually there are 5 or 6 running around on my wall, and it’s a fun game to catch them with my thumb. There are ant guts all over the wall. I bet I eat on average 10 ants a night.

But, it all just adds to the atmosphere. It forces me to get off my bed, stop using the computer, go play some football, do some reading, or hangout with the guys. But it does make it feel more like camp. Everything here has had that camp kind of feeling. Good and friendly environment, food cooked on a gas stove, flashlights, candles, walking in the dark, looking at the stars, playing football, the occasional leaf fire, the guys trying to look cool in front of the girls, great food, really dirty swimming pool, sandals, shorts, sitting in the sun, devos, hymns, bunk beds, cold showers, ants, skipping showers, not brushing my teeth, lawn chairs, flirty girls, shirtless dudes, forest, Ray the Director striking fear into the hearts of many. I hope that list helps you feel out my camp theory. Because it really makes sense.

Camp in January-May. Much better than snow-blindness.

Let’s talk real football. Worldwide football. It is a beautiful thing, a game that can be played literally anywhere, virtually anytime. It’s a pretty beautiful thing indeed.
When I left Canada, I left a soccer team behind, and that sucked. I miss playing on the cushiony artificial turf that is Regina’s indoor facility. I have had many a good evening, turf burning my knees, hips and face, making a save.

The past month I have played more soccer than I ever have before. I usually get an hour in daily, if not more. Either working the juggling skills, something I could never do until I came here, or just playing a game of pickup, soccer has been the activity of choice thus far.

Sometimes we have intersquadular battles between the college, sometimes we have heated competitions versus the younger school boys, but either way, it is a doozy of a time. One day, one of the older dudes named Michel (pronounced Mickel, as far as I know), probably 45 years of age wearing his Canadian tuxedo (jean jacket and jeans), and he thought it would be a good idea if he played goalkeeper for a while, as we, young men, took some blistering shots at him. I felt bad for a while, afraid I’d break a hip or cause a puncture of the spleen, but it turns out he is nimble and a solid keeper. I gave him a rest, played keeper for a while, and showed the Indians that Canada sucks at soccer, but enjoy its position at the teat. I often play with a guy named Duseka (pronounced Deuce-ekah) a really good athlete, and other young guys named Arun (pronounced Aroon) and Arum, (pronounced like, “Is that a Whisky or what is it?” “No, no, no, that is A RUM.”)

The sad part about it here, is the most famous name they relate to soccer is Beckham. Too bad. The next most famous would go in this order, C. Ronaldo, Ronaldihno, Zidane and so on. The most famous ones are the sexy ones, if you didn’t notice. I often see photos of Beckham, his smokin’ wife, and his kid(s) in a tabloid photo, in small shops around town. Like he is important or something. He is good looking, that’s all he’s got going for him.

Anyways, be prepared when I return to Canada as a quick and powerful striker, instead of the slow, clumsy keeper you usually see. Yeah….

Lately I have been worried. Not about work, school, malaria, girls, boys, or muscles, but about me. (yeah, i know, i’m a shallow loser) I have caught myself saying some really not funny things. It is a worrisome situation. Maybe it is all the time spent with the people over the age 50. I doubt that, Ray, Bob and Ellen have good humor. Or maybe it is all the time spent with all the people under age 13. I doubt that, Andrew has made me laugh doing many things, including singing Rihanna’s hit SOS. Or maybe it is all the time spent with people that have English as a second language. It can’t be that I’m turning into my father, because that would only make me funnier. Whatever it is, it is taking its toll on me, hard.

But then again. Thinking about it for a while, there is that off chance I was never funny to begin with. That is even more worrisome. Maybe my immature yet witty jokes were only found funny by me. My immature humor still lives. I don’t even know what this means, but before people say Ray and Ellen’s names here they say it Pu Ray or Pi Ellen, I get a small chuckle everytime. (Like honestly, they couldn’t have picked any other words in the world?) Maybe TV was my only source of fresh jokes. I really hope not. Who knows? I know that I don’t know, that’s what I know. Do you know?

I might have just died a little.