I’m not sure why

“On a recent trip to Cuba, a member of our delegation handed a local girl her iPhone. There was no mystification, no hesitation; the girl started playing with it as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Which it somehow, inexplicably, is. Thank you, Steve Jobs, for the wonderful tools — and the irresistible toys.”

Friends have lately been giving me flak for not letting them know when I’ve published new stories. So I’d also like to mention that, since February, I’ve been a doing a lot of writing for Smithsonian. This has turned into one of the more enjoyable relationships in my long freelance career. So far there are five features, with a sixth to appear around October 12th. You can see the list by clicking here. Note: The Beach Plastic tale is one of my favorites…

Let’s close up this tedious vanity post by mentioning another recent story for OnEarth, this one about ocean researcher and sea turtle advocate Wallace “J” Nichols. Nichols recently started the “Blue Mind” conferences at the California Academy of Science, where he poses the quasi-obvious but seldom-asked question: “Why (neuroscientifically speaking) do we love the ocean?” His thoughts are well-reasoned and –  if I dare employ the word in the context of a blog that mentions Cuba — revolutionary.

Speaking of which, or where, I trust you all read my Ethical Traveler blogs from Cuba! What a place, and what a trip. Stay tuned for the next Ethical Journeys Cuba trip, being cobbled together right now by our wonderful travel coordinator.

Now that the latest run

In the meantime, I’m writing up my recent trip to Guyana for the Los Angeles Times. Guyana is a country about the size of Iowa, with a population smaller than San Francisco. Seen from the air, the landscape resembles the sort of thick loop carpet you might find in a state college dorm room. 

It’s a nearly unbroken expanse of green. There are some tannin-laced rivers, and a few spectacular waterfalls, but very few signs of industry. Guyana is a country just finding its place on the adventurers’  map, and it was fascinating to travel deep into rainforest and meet the Amerindian tribes that have decided that eco-lodges and birding expeditions are a better bet than mining and logging. I’ll post a link to the story when it’s in print.

In other news, a couple of terrific interviews aired recently. The insightful Dave Iverson invited me to be his guest on the January 28th broadcast of KQED Forum. We discussed my solo show, my books, and the work of Ethical Traveler. Also on the airwaves is a penetrating conversation with the sagacious Rick Steves, during which we spoke about Nepal’s current political situation and the serpentine plot lines of Snake Lake. Rick is a skillful interviewer and a wonderful human being, and our discussion was far-ranging. I hope you’ll check it out!

In early January,

We named our new friend Ghang Sik Dondrup: “The snow lion whose every wish is fulfilled.” (There’s a picture of a mythical snow lion in the blog post below.) I hope you enjoy the photos!

Remember, Strange Travel has been extended through February 19th!

The first is an actual adventure in Nepal, my second home since 1979. In late February 2011 I will lead a two-week trip to the former kingdom, arranged by Ethical Traveler and Global Exchange. Dreams of Kathmandu—An Intimate Visit to the Sacred Valley will explore the cultural highlights of a city I love like no other. This is an opportunity for a small group of people to see a side of Nepal invisible to most tourists. Co-led by renowned photographer Thomas Kelly, “Dreams” will thrill anyone with a passion for the arts, a desire to meet great Asian thinkers, and a curiosity about the world’s newest republic. Sign on soon, as the trip must close in mid-January! (Big discounts for Ethical Traveler supporting members.)

Next—after a two-year hiatus — Strange Travel Suggestions is returning to The Marsh! Get your tickets now for the latest avatar of my ever-changing solo show, presented The Marsh Cabaret in Berkeley (just two blocks from the University BART station). This is the first run of Strange Travel since it sold out The Marsh San Francisco in 2008!  I’m also teaching a “page-to-stage” performance class. Journeys for the Stage: Finding Your Inner Marco Polo will meet on three Saturdays starting January 8th, and is limited to 12 people. Thinking of turning your travel stories into monologues? This is the time to begin!

So there you have it. Two irresistible ways to get off your butt and see the world. That is your Number One New Years’ resolution, isn’t it??

I’m not the kind of guy who jumps up

Let’s cut to the chase: I was in awe. Matreyek has created an art form that is conceptually brilliant, technically magical, and utterly seductive. To see her performance—a kind of shadow dance, in the purest Indonesian wayang fashion—is to enter into a dream and lose, for a gorgeous moment, any distinction between art and life. She is both dalang and puppet, the creator and heroine of her freshly mined myth. Though I was naive enough to think the artist was relatively unknown, a quick search of her name (and there aren’t a lot of Miwa Matreyeks) revealed that everyone seemed to know about her but me.

And: The Snake Lake tour is over. It ended with a radiant love fest at the beautiful Alameda home of my great friends Mark and Laurie Wagner. Laurie, who I’ve known for 25 years, is a profound writer, teacher and muse. Mark is a brilliant artist; he painted the Wheel used in Strange Travel Suggestions. Check out his work at Hearts and Bones Studio. Sitting by the fire in their comfy living room at 27 Powers (check out the upcoming writer events), I read to an audience of fully engaged geniuses. Who’d had plenty of wine. I think a few nagas were listening from the rain-soaked yard, as well.

Someday, The Prairie Home Companion will die.

Two hour-long shows were recorded in tandem last night. I was on the  first (it will air Saturday 11/27). The second had somewhat more kick-ass energy, fueled by Portland’s beloved Weinland and ignited by stand-up political satirist Will Durst. I’d never seen Durst perform, but knew he’d be good. He brought the house down. His closing line about Sarah Palin was so fucking brilliant that I won’t spoil it for you here. See him. When the show was over, the cast and crew gathered to drink  whiskey at a nearby bar. Here’s what sound effects wizard Pat Janowski, Scott Poole, Will Durst (and me, left) looked like afterwards.

So I take my leave of the Pacific Northwest (bidding farewell, also, to my favorite airport advertisement.) But I’m holding onto a dream: to perform Strange Travel Suggestions in Portland. For one thing, Portland is the perfect place for the show, with an audience that loves theater and loves to travel. For another, I’d get to live in Portland for a month, and develop a relationship with the local IPA. Maybe I met some people who can make that happen. I sort of think I did—and symbolizing a nod of agreement from the nagas, our Horizon jet is struck by lightning as we descend into Oakland airport.

The notion of living in Portland

Lots of friends showed up, and plenty of people I didn’t know. A few Nepalis, too, who clearly dug Snake Lake. My old friend Flora, a brilliant poet who was my next door neighbor in Santa Cruz when I was 22. William Burroughs came to stay with her from time to time. Her son Charlie was 10; he’s 44 now. My pals David and Pearl, who I met when we were visual artists in Santa Barbara. It made America’s West Coast feel like a self-contained universe, a snakes-and-ladders ride I’ve played again and again these past 36 years, since that long-ago Summer afternoon when I roared through the Waldo Tunnel and into the picture postcard of my dreams.

All of these people moving together and moving apart. All of us navigating through time and space with the flimsiest of compasses. And me among them, writing my books and drinking my beers. Like Billy Pilgrim, who has come unstuck in time. Astounded by the knowledge that the lights must go out someday. It made me realize that what the Buddha taught is true: The only thing that matters, moment to moment, is how you feel in the moment.  This mad scramble of moments that supposedly all happen at the very same instant, regardless of our illusions about space and time. And at this moment I feel good.

Three photographs taken on Long Island’s West End Beach

To tell you the truth, hers are much better.

West End Waves (click link for video)

Of all the varieties of nostalgia,

Today I visited the POB library as a guest, and told a small but eager audience what a lifeline the place had been for me. Among the local guests was Jeffrey Lipsky, one of my best friends since Junior High School, now a brilliant writer/director preparing to release his third independent film (12:30) in mid-January. We’ve worked diligently, Jeff and I, not always for the richest of financial rewards, but mostly out of true devotion. Jeff’s big break came at 18, when his review of John Cassavetes’ Minnie and Moskowitz, published in our college paper, so astonished the legendary director that he took Lipsky on as his protégée.

I guess I’m still waiting for that big break. For the phone message out of nowhere. For the email that must surely be a prank. For the whisper, the summons, the call. It sounds deranged. I know waiting doesn’t work. I’ve stopped waiting, and that doesn’t work, either. I know there’s no forcing that serendipitous instant when my own oblique angle intercepts the zeitgeist. Which will happen, if at all, by accident. Snake Lake has the heart and soul to be the right thing for the right person. But only a twist of fate can drop it into their hands. Who knows? Maybe they were at the library.