Seems like another quite prominent topic that this trip has held is that great idea of girls and marriage. I don’t know if you knew this, but I am easily the most awkward guy since Napoleon, and definitely the most awkward white man in India. I was hoping that this trip would help that problem I have, but as of yet, no luck. I guess part of the reason is that I sit here and write these blogs, instead of practice my non-awkward skills. Like looking people in the eyes. I just can’t do that. What is wrong with me? Oh yeah… thats right.

Even months before I left, people came up with this great idea, and started asking me, “So, Nic, are you going to marry and Indian princess?” or something along those lines. And, I know, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Since I’ve been here it has been no better, and it doesn’t help with all the cute girls around. The other day, at church, a group of girls I’ve never met, came up to me and gave me a note that said, “Nick, we wanna take a picture with you and can you wait for us after the service. Thanks, the Girls.” So, being the great gentleman I am, I said yes, met them after church and went for a short walk to the photo taking location. We got there, I said very little, stood awkwardly in my huge size 12’s looking down at the top of their heads from my tower-like height. Turns out that the camera was broken, and no pictures were taken, just me, standing there awkward, with a group of girls I didn’t know.

It happened again. This time less formal, but equally as weird. I was hanging with the dudes, and they asked me over to take some pictures. After a good 15 minutes of pictures with girls I hadn’t met, I got to have a short chat with 2 girls about true love, jealousy and girlfriends. So that was great. They also didn’t believe me that I didn’t have a girlfriend back home, like I’m some sort of catch, or something. Since then I have talked to them a few times, and are pretty nice girls. They ask me about Avril Lavigne, what Canadian girls do all day, and asked me to ‘hangout’ when they are done exams. All in all, this may top my list of the most awkward series of situations in the past year, and I’m not looking forward to topping it once more, as I can see happening. Soon.

Some of the guys here have even got the idea that I want to marry an Indian girl (which again, wouldn’t be such a bad thing), and ask me often about it, trying to set me up with some girls. So that is great too.

So, remember, when I come back in a few months, I may be a brand new guy. Confident, classy, mature and totally socially acceptable, but I realllly doubt it.

Both important topics in youth today, and I’d like to address both of them head on.

In the past 4 weeks I have read 4 books, and am working on my 5th. That is a huge record for me. Usually it takes me a good 4 months to read a book, even a good one. I’ve never been a child of reading, but lately, wooowee. Maybe it’s life without television, power, and rarely internet. This is not a search for people to congratulate me or to tell you how much better of a human being I am (but, if you must…), I just wanted to let you know that I’m breaking old records and have enjoyed doing so. I read 2 best sellers and a C.S. Lewis book, so none of them have been really short or easy reads, they have challenged me to look at my 6 pack and turn my pecs around.

Now from breeding, to church. My main point, don’t breed in the church…
The other night at devotional, every night at 7:30 about two steps from my room, one of the guys was song leading, and picked a few doozys right out of Songs of Faith and Praise. The songs were not strangers to me. They were, ‘Have a Little Talk with Jesus’ and ‘Hallelujiah Praise Jehovah’, both solid hymns of faith and praise. The problem was that no one but me knew the songs. I tried to stay in key, or on tune or whatever you musicians call it, as the others mumbled along, trying to get the rhythm. In the end, my voice probably cracked on every High C and Low R. When they do know the songs, they are the loudest singers I’ve known. I bet 10 or 15 of them would be louder than the Glen Elm congregation. They’ve got church down. Sing 3 songs, quick 5 minute preach, shake a few hands and head out. By the way, they love the handshake here, so I’ve thrown down a few great handshakes. Handshakes are the new French kiss, is what I hear. So I’ve French kissed a good 150 people. Another record breaker.

Here is one of those blogs that not everyone gets. Only the people that know Bob will get this blog, and if you read this blog without knowing Bob, then I hope my impression of Bob will get you to want to get to know Bob. It’s the Boblog. Or the Blob.

Bob Parker has been in India for a week longer than I have, but has been here like 100 times before that. I have thoroughly enjoyed his company throughout my weeks here, and it will be sad to see him go. I’m glad I got to spend the time I did, with him, in Guwahati and Aizawl, hitting up the city life and learning new things about India. He’s been a good English speaking friend over the past few weeks and learning the entire New Testament in 3 weeks couldn’t have gone any smoother.

If I could write songs, I’m sure that I’d write one about the man named Bob, which would include mad drum fillers, melodic guitar rifts, and bass lines that could slay the holiest of cattle. It would include a verse about India, a verse about Saskatoon, and a chorus about keepin’ it real.

Soon to come! : Ode to the Rebirth of Starter, the once great hat company making a comeback with underwear and socks. Ode to Linoleum, the great cover up as well as the great lazy man’s work. And of course, the Ode to the Blue Footed Booby. Until then.

Remember that children’s book with that title? Basically, I think it was a little baby chicken, a chick, that went around asking dogs, cats, cows, and ducks if they were his mother, because he didn’t know who his mother was. What an idiot. If the chick didn’t even know that its mother would’ve been a chicken, not much of a son or daughter it would be. If my baby didn’t know that I was its father and went around asking other guys, ducks or cows if they were his father, I’d disown him in a second. No stupid babies in the Olson Family.

Anyway, the reason I thought of this is because everywhere I go this kind of idea pops up. I obviously know who my mother is; she is the 3rd greatest lady in the history of the world, right behind Esther and that lady that invented Cheez Whiz.

Everywhere I go I get asked if Ellen is my mother, or if Ray or Bob is my father. Explaining that they are just friends, it might be easier just to say, “Yeah, I’ve got 3 dads and 2 moms, beat that.” Being the only 4 white people they have ever seen, I understand why they think we might be related, because we are the only 4 white people in the world, obviously.

Through my trips to town I have found a small sports shop where I have befriended an older lady that works there. She sits there every day, chews the beetlenut, and sells soccer balls. So far I have visited her 3 times, and a few of those times I have sat and talked with her for a while. The last time I was there I got another soccer ball for 200rupees, which she tells me is a great deal. She told me that she gave me these deals because I was one of her sons. I didn’t really know what to say, so I said, something along the lines of, “Haha, yes! Good! uhhaha! I’m an awkward white man.”, bought the ball and headed out. By the way, she’s a pretty cool lady. I’ll get a photo someday.

So, a shout out to all the mothers and fathers out there; Keep putting up with jerks like me and everything will be alright.

Or, Engl-Indi-ish, Englindiish. When one of my new friends, Hratchung (pronounced Rat-ChOOng) nominated me to do a devotion for tonight, I began to think of what to say, and how to say it. You see, with what they call ‘Indian English, or what I like to call Englindiish, there are a few key words that are quite popular, as well as a few key ways of speaking that must be mastered. I have even been using some of this specific type of English on occasion. Like somehow we think speaking in broken English will help them understand.

First, the key words and phrases. Words such as ‘No’ and phrases such as ‘So to say’ are common in Canadian English (Canad-inglish or Canadinglish.) But the extent to which they are used here, and the ways they are used here are quite unique. Phrases such as, ‘Nic, that is a duck, no?’ or ‘Good, no?’ are often used where the ‘No?’ is actually someone asking for confirmation. The same thing could be done with the word, yes. ‘This is an English lesson, yes?’ or ‘That is a duck, yes?’… The phrase ‘So to say’ seems to be used when a person of Englindiish is searching for a phrase or word for their own regular speak. An example would be, ‘Nic is, uh, so to say… a fantastic gentleman.’ Where the ‘so to say’ is the searching for the part of ‘a fantastic gentleman.’ Anyways, these are some key phrases I have noticed here so far.

Some of the guys here have been kind enough to point out, that in my prayers, I may speak too fast and use words that are not understood by the majority of them. In my prayers I often use words such as ‘Dawg’, ‘Brotha’ or ‘The Easy G’, just to spice it up a bit, but I guess I’ll have to let that go for a while. Along with dropping the hot teenage youth crew slang, I will have to speak slower and enunciate better. All things I have learned, slowly, to do since I have been here.

They also use words such as toilet, in replace of bathroom or washroom. They don’t know what bathrooms or washrooms are, as far as I have figured. And toilet has always seemed like such a crude word to me.

Since I teach Andrew and live with Ray, life is a never ending English lesson. Where Autumn says ‘Me and Andrew’, Ray is quick to correct her, and she quickly changes her story to, ‘Andrew and I’. Andrew, using words such as ‘standed’ and ‘yif’ and ‘brang’ I do my best to pull out the English teacher in me and correct him as much as possible…..

I’ve turned into an English teacher. The worst possible thing has happened. Let’s do some calculus.

Sincerely,
Brother Nic

Check it!

In town this past weekend I spotted quite a few new things that I thought were sweet. All the ‘American’ stores they have here, you are bound to find some gems. In one store today, it was primarily a hat and shoe store, things I like very much, there were hats from the NFL and the College leagues, and caught in the mix was an Ottawa Senators hat. The next store down, a guy was wearing an old worn out Colorado Avalanche hat. It is the high point of my day seeing these hats, and it’s especially awesome because the people here have no idea who these teams are, or what hockey is. Most of them don’t even know what we call football. It’s just as stupid when people in Canada were wearing hats with Chinese symbols on them that translated into ‘dog’ or ‘boot’. Another sweet find was an old MxPx shirt in some trendy new wave teenage hot pants store. Hanging on a hanger, the only one on a hanger, like it was something special. MxPx is deeeeeeeadly. I also saw a dude with a hat that had the Cincinnati Bengals symbol of the front, and stitched into the back were the words ‘Buffalo Sabres’.
Where do they come up with this stuff? India, I guess.

Bob and I tapped David’s Kitchen again the other day, and it was just as good as last time. While waiting for the meal, the waitress brought each of us something to read. For me, a magazine called RAVE, because of my obvious raver giddup. Bob got a newspaper. In RAVE I read about how Iron Maiden is taking over India with their newest album, but I forget the album’s name. In the article I learned many new things. One, that Iron Maiden is still kicking, but really, I just should’ve known that. Two, that India has radio stations. That one was surprising, actually. Three, that Victoria Beckham put out a CD. And four, just a reminder, that metal is funny to listen to and to look at. Old men that think they are 20 again. Sad but beautiful.

I have added a few pictures; I try to add a few each day. Each picture takes like 30 minutes to upload, so you should spend at least that much time just enjoying it and thinking about it. If you are not going to do that, don’t bother looking at them. Thanks.

Today is cold and rainy. Last night was a thunderstorm. Loud and flashy, like some of Sharon King’s shoes. (ohhhhhh, yeah) Today has been raining most of the day. Because we couldn’t be playing soccer, the guys pulled out the carom board. Similar to crokinole, 2 colours of discs, black and white, one shooter, and one red disc which I couldn’t figure out what it was for, holes in the corner, where you shoot the discs. There is a powder on the surface, so the discs move better. A few weird ways of hitting the shooter disc with your fingers, but the one staple crokinole flick is still there. It’s a good thing I have my Masters in Crokinology, or else I would have looked quite the fool, moreso than I did. I can only hope that someday I can reach the status of Wilf, and get my Ph.D. in Crokinology, Majoring in Wicked Action Power Angle Shots. Tell Lucas that we have a new Tuesday night game, about 10x harder than crokinole.

Just bring it.

Sounds tasty, doesn’t it?

Since the grid-blog happens so seldom now, I figured I’d join in on the fun, even with a topic like this. Just kidding, it’s a good topic. So what does generosity….

Look like: I have been eating breakfast every day with the college kids, so that means eggplant, potatoes, green beans, kidney beans, a lot of things I don’t know what they are, and of course rice. And every time I’m there I can’t help but stare at the generous helpings of rice in front of me. One time I went to India House in Regina and I ate so much that I couldn’t move after. Seriously, if I would’ve moved, I would’ve displayed the buffet on a different table than the buffet table. And it seems like they serve me that much here every meal. But I’m not complaining. Not just that, it is the generosity of all the people and what they are willing to do for you. I have met a load of people in this past 3.5 weeks. More than I ever have before, I’m sure, and every one of them has offered me many things. They have been generous beyond then my sense of the word. Other examples are obviously my parents, who have poured out love and time and money and new underwear to me. Without them I’d be no where. And of course there is the short list of others such as the Ashby’s, the New York Yankees, Lee Strobel, Andrew, Daisy, all the ants in my room, my bed, and of course Ray and Ellen.

Generosity seems hard for me. It is a great thing to do, to show it, but sometimes to accept it is hard. I guess it would be pride’s fault, or my fault, or my pride’s fault. If someone is willing to be generous, then it sometimes means that you are in a weakened or lowered position, and to admit that is hard. But then there is that generosity for no good reason but being generous. As usual, this likely makes no sense to anyone but me. Oh yeah, I forgot. What does generosity….

Sound like: kind words and a rippin’ solid guitar solo.

Smell like: I’m not too sure, possibly a bean burrito, or a nice warm slice of apple pie.

Taste like: Again, I am not sure, probably just as it smells. Or better.

This morning I was heading for the shower with my Old Spice Hair AND Body wash, (amazing invention by the way, it cuts shower time in half.) and bucket to collect my bath water for flushing, wearing only a towel. I got situated in my shower stall, which looks like a place they would clean cattle, and the water is about as cold as a witch’s teat. That part is nothing, you get used to cold showers when you shower after Melissa, and when Sharon comes to visit. And, it’s actually rather refreshing. Anyways, Bidyut (pronounced BEE-DOOT) asked me something I couldn’t quite understand, and I peaked around the stall wall and he started laughing. I think he was laughing because I was bathing naked, and he thought it was pretty funny. I, personally, don’t know any other way to bathe. I’d go totally Indian and bathe the way they do, but that would require me to go through the awkward question of asking another dude, “So… how do you bathe?” or creeping around and trying to see. Neither, I really want to do, so I am keeping to my original way of bathing. Nice and naked.
Maybe they were laughing at a birthmark in the shape of a cricket bat and posts that I haven’t seen before, you know, in that one spot on your backside you can’t see without mirror or photo aid.

Mom, do I have a birthmark you never told me about?

worse than new york city. i’ve never been there, but there is a good chance.
a good 5 hour traffic jam on the way home from the science centre field trip. like most good field trips, little learning was done. but it was a good time. pictures to come soon.

but yeah, 5 hours. we saw the sun rise, then set, then rise again. we ate cookies, noodles, chips, water, and knuckle sandwiches. got home, ate burgers and furters.

it was a good day. i am tired.